1952 Toro Albala Amontillado Convento Seleccion 750ml, Montilla-Moriles Andalucia

22% ABV. Names of the old bottlings tend to vary (they are highly creative at Toro Albalá!) and the old Amontillado is now presented as 1952 Amontillado Convento Palma. It has the character of a very old wine, with traces of the biological aging under flor, certainly more pungent and sharper than the Palo Cortado I tasted from 1964. There is, as I have seen in other vintages, a sensation of sweetness on the finish (but no aromas of sweet wine), that kind of softens the sharpness. It could very well be the pure concentration from old age. They expect to eventually fill some 3,400 bottles with this wine.

93-95 points, Luis Gutiérrez, The Wine Advocate  

From the deep solera reserves at Toro Albalá, the 1952 Amontillado Convento Selección is what happens when patience stretches into decades. Beginning life under flor before slowly moving into oxidative ageing, it carries both delicacy and depth, a hallmark of the house since its founding in 1922. This is Montilla Moriles at its most nuanced, shaped more by time than by technique.

The aromatics feel almost architectural. Roasted almond and hazelnut form the base, then layers build, dried orange peel, chamomile, old wood, tobacco leaf, a flicker of curry spice and that unmistakable rancio note that brings savoury, almost umami depth. There’s also a saline edge that keeps everything feeling alive rather than heavy.

It glides rather than sits. Bone dry, but with a texture that feels almost silky and enveloping. Flavours move from toasted nuts to caramel, citrus oil and spice, all held together by a fine line of freshness that keeps it in tension. The finish lingers with a gentle bitterness, nutty, savoury and incredibly persistent.

This is where things get interesting at the table. Think grilled sardines with lemon and sea salt, or jamón carved thick and slightly warm. It’s brilliant with a mushroom and walnut pâté, but just as compelling with something like a caramelised onion tarte tatin or roasted artichokes with olive oil and thyme. Even a simple bowl of olives and toasted almonds becomes elevated alongside it.

There’s a quiet intensity here, a wine that doesn’t shout, but keeps revealing itself the longer you sit with it.