Admittedly, the Dominican Republic does not immediately come to mind as the promised land of distinguished drinking culture. The Dominicans love their thin Presidente beer and of course the rum – and not refined in sophisticated cocktails, but rather mixed with Cola or Sprite.
Maria Claudia Mallarino and Guillermo Villalona want to change that. Mallarino, 54, comes from Cali, Colombia. Villalona, 69, comes from Ramon Santana, a village in the southeast of the island. The two worked as doctors in the USA for 30 years, living in New York, California and Florida. “Ocoa Bay is the place where we want to retire,” says Mallarino on the drive from the capital, Santo Domingo, to the west. “You will see why.”
It takes just under two hours to see the sweeping bay for the first time: deep blue sea, behind barren hills on which thorn bushes and cacti grow. Like a city wall, they shield the bay all around and create a microclimate like the Mediterranean.
The infinity pool, lined with palm trees, is the heart of the complex. The first wine is said to have been brought here by the Spanish conquerors.
(Photo: Florian Sanktjohanser)
“We like dry places,” says Villalona. He and his wife came here for the first time on a trip with his Dominican relatives – and immediately fell in love with the area. In front gardens they saw wild wine, which is said to have once been planted by the Spanish conquistadors. “Columbus brought vines with him on his second trip,” says Villalona, ”they were on the inventory list.” And Hernán Cortés lived in Azua, the city on Ocoa Bay, before he set out to conquer the Aztec empire. “The Spaniards liked it here, it’s hot and dry like in Andalusia.”
They are finally allowed to receive guests again at the winery
Mallarino and Villalona are wine aficionados. They had long dreamed of having their own winery. While traveling, they visited wine growers in France and Spain, Chile and Argentina. In Colombia they learned that vines also thrive in the tropics. Here in Ocoa Bay, they finally found the perfect opportunity to make their dream come true. And from October onwards they can finally receive guests again.
Pink bougainvilleas line the access road to their property as a trellis, and a flight of stairs leads from the parking lot down to the restaurant. A fountain splashes under a pergola made of peeled eucalyptus trunks, you walk through a carmine-red gate into a gravel garden with agaves and cacti and to the heart of the complex: a turquoise infinity pool, lined with palmetto palms, from which you can see the deep blue bay and the green overlooks the brown spotted hill beyond.
“We were inspired by the gardens of the Alhambra and the architecture in Marrakech,” explains Mallarino. She sits down on the terrace, shaded by a pergola with awnings, in the background electro music bubbles and clacks. Everything is in line with the urban zeitgeist.
The music is quiet, the portions are small
Elegant townspeople dine at the next tables, the men in jackets and large sunglasses, the women in dresses and gold jewelry. So far, Dominicans have mainly come here from the capital. “At first it was really crowded,” says Mallarino. “Families played loud music on their cell phones. That wasn’t our idea. So we raised the prices.”
Small children are no longer welcome in the temperature-controlled wellness oasis. An extended family, dressed in swim shorts and swimming rings, is discreetly turned away at the entrance. “Dominicans who have been around the world like it here,” says Mallarino. “Others wonder why the music is so quiet and the portions are so small. But in time they will come to appreciate it.”
The waitress serves the lunch mezze: tuna ceviche, fresh goat cheese with chilli, a puree made from beetroot and yogurt, octopus with avocado, carrots and desiccated coconut. First there is a Colombard. The fruity white wine has a fine acidity, but remains a bit pale, just like the Tempranillo afterwards.
The vegetables come from a women’s cooperative
In 2010 Mallarino and Villalona planted the first vines and hired an oenologist from Chile as consultants. “We experimented with 20 grape varieties,” says Mallarino, “with what we know today, perhaps a few more would thrive.” Because all the experiences of the winemakers in Spain or Chile have to be adapted to the tropical climate here. And sometimes even trickery: “By removing water from the vines, we simulate winter dormancy.”
The Caribbean location has advantages too. There are no plant lice here – but there are many birds. To keep them away, the amateur winemakers played birds of prey from boxes, hung reflective CDs, and pulled medical hairnets over the vines. All unsuccessful. “In the end we just came to terms with them,” says Mallarino.
The first bottles were filled in 2014, a few dozen to drink yourself. Mallarino and Villalona have had a license to make wine since 2019. They currently produce 20,000 bottles a year, which they deliver to hotels and restaurants in Santo Domingo and of course sell here. “We don’t want to compete on the world market,” says Mallarino.
Appetizers at lunchtime: octopus with avocado, carrots and desiccated coconut, tuna ceviche and of course your own wine.
(Photo: Florian Sanktjohanser)
Her bestseller is served with a dessert made from dulce de leche and stuffed figs: the KiBay, a fruit sparkling wine made from mango and passion fruit. The two of them got the idea when they saw mangoes growing in abundance on the road during harvest time. They now deliver the KiBay to hundreds of mini-supermarkets on the east coast of the USA, where nostalgic diaspora Dominicans buy it.
Before the tropical heat knocks you down on your deck chair, Mallarino invites you to take a tour of the property. She drives up the hill in a golf cart and leads through olive trees into the vineyard. Black tubes lie on the ground along the vines, no more drops than necessary flow out of the respective valve. “Water is precious here,” says Mallarino. It shows the grove of fig trees, the dragon fruit cacti and the greenhouses in which aubergines and cucumbers, lettuce and basil grow. The workers pull up weeds by hand and use the excrement of the 200 goats, which are kept for cheese and ragout, as fertilizer. Additional vegetables come from a women’s cooperative. “We want them to grow with us,” says Mallarino. “Ocoa shouldn’t be a place where empires are demarcated with high walls.”
Mallarino and Villalona can certainly be relieved of their social commitment. During the AIDS epidemic in the late 1980s, the two worked in the Bronx, and after one of the numerous earthquakes they helped in Haiti. Its 35 employees all come from the area, most of them from the neighboring village of Hatillo, a nest of brightly painted concrete and corrugated iron houses. In addition to work, they should learn to read and English. And so give impulses for the poor area, where there is hardly any tourism up to now.
Above the restaurant is a nine-hectare vineyard. To simulate winter dormancy, the vines are not watered here in the tropics.
(Photo: Florian Sanktjohanser)
In the bodega made of natural stone and wood, a promotional video shows the vision for the future of the project. On a huge TV in the air-conditioned presentation room you can see chic rendered bungalows in the hills, each with its own mini pool. She wants to build the luxury chain Six Senses, along with a spa and dozens of villas. The wealthy from the capital should be able to moor their yachts on the sandy beach below.
The young French women who are lounging on the rattan loungers by the pool with a bottle of KiBay in the champagne cooler in the late afternoon might like all of this. Just like the couple cuddling at the pool bar. Butterflies buzz over the bushes below the pool, a woodpecker sinks its long beak into orange agave flowers, a frigate bird circles in the sky. At some point, Villalona wants to ship its guests in a solar-powered catamaran to the fine sandy Playa Blanca at sunset. Until then, it’s okay to watch the sun sink into the sea from the lounger by the pool.
Travel information
Getting there: Several airlines fly from Germany to Santo Domingo. Caribe Tours buses leave for Azua from the stop near Avenida 27 de Febrero. There you take a taxi to the winery.
Winery: ocoabay.com
Accommodation: The Hotel Ibiza Palmar de Ocoa Azua is a bit overpriced, but is close to the winery, double rooms from 112 euros, Tel .: 001/80 98 66 81 41; Cheaper holiday apartments like Las Palmas in Palmar de Ocoa (double room from 46 euros) can be found on AirBnB.
Information: Dominican Republic Tourist Board, Tel .: 069/91 39 78 78, E-Mail: [email protected]
The research trip for this article was partly supported by tour operators, hotels, airlines and / or tourism agencies.