Back in 1918, Antonio do Nicho did what so many Galicians did: he emigrated. Antonio is my son’s great-great-grandfather, on my wife’s side. His destination was the capital of Cuba, where he spent three years in Havana earning enough money to return home to his native San Fiz, in Chantada.
“A Mingona”, a family vineyard on the riverbank, produced wine for the household and a little more to sell to people from the mountains or the neighbours — a modest trade that became an important part of the family’s livelihood, and the land itself one of its most cherished possessions.
As happens with almost everything, it was passed down from generation to generation until it reached his grandson, who modernised it and planted Mencía, while keeping the old Garnacha and other ancient varieties already growing there. That grandson is my wife’s father, who one day asked me whether I wanted to take charge of A Mingona.
After several years of making wine just for myself, aware of how much it meant to him that someone take it on, and recognising the potential of this small piece of land, taking the helm was both an honour and a challenge. It was my perfect chance to become a winegrower — a small one, but a winegrower nonetheless.
My thanks go to him and his wife for letting me fulfil this dream, and for their moral and practical support, just as I thank my own wife and son. This is how “A Mingona” carries on…
A tribute to Antonio do Nicho.
