(Manfred Klimek)
I only wanted to get Bilo milk, when I suddenly found myself standing in front of a small wooden crate: a magnum bottle of Faustino Rivero Ulecia Reserva 2019, attractively packaged – and all that for € 9,90 at the discounter Netto. A moment of astonishment, followed by a pronounced furrowing of the brow and then: an internal nod. Because this bottle tells us far more about the wine market in 2026 than we might suspect at first glance.
Faustino Rivero Ulecia represents a century-old Rioja tradition from Arnedo in La Rioja, a family that has been making and exporting wine (with its internationally renowned label) since 1899, long before many consumers even knew where Rioja was on the map. Yet this particular Reserva 2019 does not come from the DOCa Rioja heartland, nor from Arnedo itself, but from a completely different part of Spain: Utiel-Requena, just under 500 kilometres south-east near Valencia, a region with a Mediterranean-continental climate and its own identity, known above all for the red grape variety Bobal – ever since the major Spanish houses expanded with an export- and volume-oriented focus in the late 1980s and 1990s. This expansion was no coincidence, but an entrepreneurial reflex: anyone who wants to grow looks for territories, grapes and capacity. Utiel-Requena was one of the answers of this era of growth – not a prestige region, but a functional one that could be shaped cost-effectively.
What is sitting in the magnum – the wine, incidentally, received 90 points from the James Suckling tasters – for less than ten euros at the discounter is, at its core, a classically vinified Spanish Reserva: ruby-red with violet highlights, made from Bobal (80%) and Tempranillo, well extracted, velvety, with decent acidity and a body with mature fruit and traditional oak notes, which serves the palate far more comfortably than the bargain price would suggest. It is an almost touchingly old-world-smelling and -tasting wine – nothing special, but light years away from the plonk we usually get for €4.95 when it comes to red wine.
But here is the real point: What makes a wine of this provenance and quality available for so little money at Netto? The answer is not merely that Spain produces wine on a massive scale and that its climate enables favourable yields. It is also that overproduction, globalisation and pressure to sell make things possible today that would have seemed absurd ten years ago. These bottles are not single-vineyard wines, nor classic Rioja Reservas from Rioja Alta or Rioja Alavesa. They are spreadable commodities – clearly vinified, easy-drinking, consumer-oriented – and they are produced in quantities that turn traditional volume and pricing models on their head.
And they have an impact. The few shelf metres devoted to these inexpensive Reservas are eating into the sales of German and Austrian red wines, especially where consumers are not nostalgically attached to local origins, but decide according to price and feeling : “What do I get for my money?” A Spanish Reserva, especially in a magnum, answers this question faster today for under ten euros than many a domestic country wine. No matter how patriotic a buyer may be – when a magnum of an acceptably vinified red wine catches the eye and the price tag seems like a joke, the bargain-hunter's instinct often triumphs over local loyalty.
And it does not stop with this one wine. 2026 will – one can already say this with considerable certainty – see a flood of inexpensive, decent to very decent wines from southern European growing regions inundate our shelves. From Italy to Spain, from Portugal to southern France: old brands, new brands, large volumes, low prices. This is not a temporary hype, but a structural shift in the market. The reasons are as sober as they are complex: increased yields, harvest prices, distribution chains, inflationary pressure, international demand – and the simple fact that many southern European regions can now deliver precisely what the broad, price-sensitive consumer demands: flavour without pretension, drinkability without flaws, price without regret.
Whether that is good or bad – everyone can and must answer that for themselves. But if, at the weekend, you suddenly discover a €9.90 magnum next to the milk at Netto that you would genuinely open with a meal, then perhaps this is no longer a coincidence, but a symptom. A symptom of a wine market that is reorganising itself – and of consumption that has long since stopped thinking only territorially, and now thinks globally.