They call you a peripatetic, all purpose enologist-rather a controversial concept…
Yes it's true, I am an official enologist at some bodegas, and an advisor at others, as in the case of Casa Gualda, though when they first called me in it was to plan their new CJ range of wines, and to work exclusively for that particular winery. But I was only permanent at Terras Gauda for two years: nowadays, I can't bear it if I have to spend the whole day in the same winery. We all have our different approaches to things, and our personality influences the way we set about what we do. I felt drawn towards consultancy work right from the start, partly out of interest and because I am rather restless and unaccepting by nature, but mostly because of the influence of Pepe Hidalgo. He was my maestro and first business partner, and he showed me by example that it is perfectly possible to work consistently with established projects, such as Bodegas Bilbaínas, and, at the same time, to write, teach, advise other enologists occasionally and undertake projects of one's own, which I find really admirable.

All of which seems to suggest a very deep-seated vocation.
Not really. In fact, my interest in wine came about by chance and then was reinforced by an act of rebellion. I never considered it when I was studying chemistry at the University of Bilbao, but when I attended the CSIC (Spanish Council for Scientific Research) in Madrid to work on my final thesis, I got the idea of focusing on certain compounds to carry out a comparative study of two grape varieties, Albariño and Riesling: it was part of the lore, and a constant source of controversy, to draw comparisons between the two. But when I presented my thesis to the University of Bilbao's panel of examiners, I realized that wine wasn't precisely their favourite subject. They were neither knowledgeable about it nor interested in it: they must have thought it a minor subject, beneath their dignity. They didn't understand what I was talking about-there wasn't even a 'cross-questioner' who challenged my thesis-but even so they felt they had the right to award me a mere pass, which I thought was unfair.

Quite a setback!
Well, the setback turned out to be providential, because I then thought that studying chemistry wasn't going to lead to anything more exciting than a career in teaching at that stage. So I decided to apply for a grant to study enology at Madrid's School of Agronomy, signed up for a Masters course on offer at the CSIC, and also for classes at the School of Viticulture and Winemaking… everything to do with wine that was available. I suppose I was determinedly turning my back on those skeptical examiners in the Basque Country. Who would have thought that, years later, I would be directing educational courses and conferences about wine at that same university, with some of the teachers who examined my thesis as my students?

You are largely responsible for changing the perception of txakoli…
Txakoli used to be a rather down-atheel, minority interest wine type, appealing because it was native and traditional to the Basque Country, but with defects and drawbacks that were preventing it from thriving. Txakolis were cloudy, acidic and lacked alcohol. Nowadays, nearly all the txakoli produced gets sold: there's a demand for it and it's very good, because at last it's been understood that you can't make txakoli just anywhere. For such a singular grape to ripen you need propitious terrain, good climate, the right orientation… and the Basque Country is small and heavily farmed. Txakoli is made with a tricky variety, Hondarribi Zuri (sometimes rounded out with Riesling or Folie-Blanche), but it is a grape that generates a plenitude of aromas-herbaceous, green fruit, carbonic and citric sensations-that are very elegant when it is well ripened. We achieved that in Guernika with Itsasmendi-a wine with an easily rounded presence in the mouth, sincere and subtle: a viable wine.

And your aim is to make viable wines, wines for which there is a market?
I find experiments and obsessional attempts to make wines that will appeal to critics, or impress them, alarming. The most worrying, absurd thing is that these supposed novelties are reiterated and replicated; their voguish success is backed up by good critical scores, yet they end up becoming all the same. Doble pasta wines (with twice as many black grape skins as normal), for example, have lots of color and body, plenty of density, and are received overenthusiastically. Suddenly, bingo! everyone's making doble pasta: it's a process that anyone can do, so you are not proving anything. What I like best about the wines in which I'm involved is that everyone enjoys them. They obey the rules of ethics rather than aesthetics!

Yes, that's the real point, after all: for people to enjoy a bottle of wine, and feel sorry when it comes to an end.
The other thing I like is that the wines we make hail from their particular area, and represent it. Take Itsasmendi-it's the best-known and most characteristic of the txakolis around today; the potential of Cigales reds has been firmly established by Traslanzas; everyone who drinks Guitián likes it and thinks of it as quintessentially Galician. These wines may be better some years than others, or vary for some other reason, but they don't disappoint anybody. I'm currently making a wine at Castillo de Cuzcurrita, which is near Haro, and my aim is to make a Rioja with a personality of its own that meets the very latest criteria.

What are the pros and cons of being a 'flying enologist'?
As far as I am concerned, all advisory work is positive as long as professional ethics are applied and a code of practice is established beforehand. I never work with two wines or two wineries in the same area. If I make a Rioja, I make just the one Rioja; if I make a txakoli, the same applies. I involve myself in a project because I like that project- it's not just a question of monitoring wine. When I make a wine, I put something of myself into it. All the projects I take on are small-scale, because I am more interested in them conceptually and in being able to follow them through. I'm a bit of a Miss Fix-It; rather than my having chosen what projects to be involved in, they've chosen me. If I know that I'm not going to be interested in a project I can perfectly well say no. I'm not an advisor who arrives, does a tasting, then goes away again. At this point in time I can tell you the exact state of all the wines in the bodegas under my care.

What is the most decisive factor in a good winemaking project?
I'm a firm believer in professionalism. It's become fashionable for all sorts of people to make wines, and it doesn't work. Just as I don't get involved in doing things that I'm not trained for, I'd prefer it if making wine were left to the professionals. I'd like you to say that in your report. For better or for worse, I am a wine professional and just as it's a crime to dabble in medicine or other fields, I think it's criminal for our profession to be trivialized.

How do viticulture, enology and technology get on together?
Viticulture used to be very detached from enology. There are now lots of professionals in the enological field, but there still aren't enough viticulture professionals. In the areas that I monitor, we count buds and bunches, we mark every ten plants to provide reference points for monitoring the vines so that we know whether the yield is balanced or not. We have vineyard maps, and take three references for historical purposes every year. All this contributes to closing the gap between grower and winemaker, but growers have to be professional, too: after all, wine starts its life in the vineyard.

What is the role of women in wine today?
Personally, I wouldn't say that I've had any problems. I've reached a certain status because I've always worked freelance. But it is glaringly obvious that prominent women in the wine world generally are so because they are winery owners. Yet how many female managers or technical directors are there in wineries? There's no denying that the wine world, influenced basically by agriculture, is still stoutly masculine, and would still find it difficult to accept a woman at the helm of a winery. But more and more trained women are graduating from Spain's schools of agronomy and enology: the time has come for greater responsibility to be handed over to them.

Luis Cepeda is a journalist and foodwriter. He is restaurant and wine critic of the Madrid weekly Guía del Ocio and director of Cocineros magazine.