Chile spans some 4,300 kilometres down the western edge of South America: from the red emptiness of the Atacama, the driest desert on earth, through world-famous vineyards and the painted hills of Valparaíso, to the blue glaciers of Patagonia. Yet the drink that best belongs to it is one the world is only just waking up to. Distilled in the northern valleys, where rain barely falls and the ripening sun gives way to cold desert nights, lies something far more discreet: Pisco, its national spirit. With centuries of heritage, and the oldest denomination of origin in the Americas, it remains, beyond Chile, a well-kept secret.
Pisco is, at heart, a spirit of place. The grape behind it is Muscat, grown across Elqui, Limarí and their neighbours, where sun and altitude concentrate the fruit into something intensely aromatic.
In the glass, it is all lift and freshness. The classic, unaged style, ‘transparent’, is floral on the nose: rose, jasmine and orange blossom. On the palate it turns to green grape and soft stone fruit, brightened by citrus peel, before a clean, gently sweet finish. Rest it in barrels of oak or native Chilean raulí, and it turns amber and altogether richer, gathering vanilla, dried fruit and a whisper of spice: one spirit, a spectrum of moods.
That range is exactly what separates Chilean Pisco from its Peruvian cousin. Where Peru’s version is distilled once and bottled undiluted and unaged, Chile’s rules allow for blending, adjusting strength and, crucially, for wood ageing, opening up a far broader family of styles. The distillation itself remains true to its roots. The wine is heated in copper alembics, with only the ‘heart’ of each run drawn off, sometimes passed through the still two or three times for purity. It is a craft the northern valleys have practised for four centuries, ever since colonial growers began distilling surplus wine to stop it spoiling.
The spirit even takes its name from the land. Early on, it was stored and carried in elongated clay vessels known as piscos, and the word stuck. In 1931, Chile drew a legal line around it, fixing in law exactly where and how Pisco could be made – rules that still govern the spirit today.
For all that heritage, Pisco wears it lightly. It is the backbone of the tart, frothy Pisco Sour and the everyday Piscola; poured long over ice with cola. A few labels are worth seeking out, from the floral to the oak aged. Waqar is a small-batch, fifth-generation Muscat pisco of real elegance; the oak-rested Capel Moai Reservado is as memorable for its Easter Island Moai-shaped bottle as its softly spiced warmth. Richer still, Alto del Carmen Etiqueta Negra spends two years in American oak, at the whisky drinker’s end of the scale. In its homeland, though, the ritual is simpler. “In Chile, we enjoy our Pisco with asados (delicious grilled meats) while dining with family and friends,” says Nicolás Poblete, ProChile’s UK trade commissioner.
The rest of the world is catching on. Chile makes roughly four-fifths of the planet’s pisco and now ships it to more than 40 countries, with exports climbing fast – up 460% to China in a single year, 190% to Spain and 70% to Germany. Much of that momentum is down to ProChile, the Chilean government’s export arm, and its ‘Chilean Pisco: First Spirit’ campaign. “We have an incredible amount of pride for our Pisco,” says Poblete. “It is the most widely drunk spirit here in Chile.”
Out in those far northern valleys, blazing days still cool into star-strewn nights. Centuries in the making, Chile’s desert spirit is, at last, being found.
Learn more about Chilean pisco here.
words. Olivia Cichero
edit. Huma Humayun
images. Courtesy of ProChile
