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A Trip Up the Loxarel Rabbit Hole


“We also make wine for ourselves that we stomp with our own feet. Want to try it?” Nervous laughter and then a resounding silence emanates from the group. It soon becomes clear that ‘no’ was never an option.

Josep Mitjans is walking full steam ahead toward a corner of the Loxarel warehouse. He invites us up into the refrigerated truck carefully, one by one. “Cuidado. The floor is all ice,” he says. Like a gentleman, he grabs my hand and helps me up attentively. 

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