June 16, 2025

There’s a hill in the Sierra de Gredos where the air gets thinner, the light gets weird, and the soil turns to dust. And that’s where Comando G fomented their revolution. Where they found what the rest of Spain forgot. It’s punk rock viticulture.

Daniel Landi and Fernando García started this project as an act of defiance. They walked away from the modern Spanish wine machine—big oak, big alcohol, big expectations—and went up into the mountains looking for something lost. What they found were forgotten old-vine Garnacha plots, growing on crumbling granite terraces, some at altitudes higher than the Alps.

The wines they make from these vineyards shouldn’t exist. At least not like this.

Because Garnacha isn’t supposed to be this light, this transparent, this mineral. It’s not supposed to hum with acidity and floral lift, or finish like a splash of cold stream water on stone. But that’s exactly what Comando G delivers. They’ve redefined what this grape can be—not by force, but by listening: to the site, the soil, the vines, and the limits of intervention. It’s Burgundy in a sun-scorched monk’s robe.

We’re featuring three releases that could each be your new favorite wine—or your new religion:

Commando G 'La Bruja' Garnacha

The gateway drug. A spell-caster in red. Light, feral, floral, and nervy as a caffeinated fox. It drinks like Pinot that got into Tarot. If you’re new to Comando G, this is the one to start with.

Comando G Rozas de Puerto Real

Altitude and attitude. Grown on granite cliffs with the kind of precision that makes Burgundy fans nervous. A single-village wine from high-elevation vines on decomposed granite. Finer structure, darker tones, and an almost alpine freshness.

Comando G Navatalgordo

The rarest drop. From a remote, Jurassic plot 1,200m up where even the goats get altitude sickness. Pure mountain Garnacha: mineral, electric, transcendent. The wine is electric, pure, and bracing. Nothing else in Spain tastes like this

What makes Comando G’s wines special isn’t just altitude, or old vines, or farming choices. Plenty of producers can check those boxes. What sets them apart is how all those elements converge to express Garnacha in a way that feels paradoxical—light but deep, wild but precise, primal but elegant.

These wines don’t shout. They resonate—especially with friends who think natural wine is too cloudy and Burgundy is too expensive.

Available now at BayTowne, but probably not for long. Cult status has a way of disappearing fast.