When visiting the famous wine region of Rioja in Spain, forget about traveling by high

López de Heredia, a Spanish winery founded in 1877, which was among the most important producers with whom Matt Straus worked with over his 20 years in California restaurants.

This is the second installment of a three-part series of Matt Straus' travels in Spain.

Wouldn’t you know it; after landing in Spain at 10 a.m., I was wandering around my neighborhood in Madrid Centro in the afternoon, and I found a wine shop.

Not every wine shop in a new country, or any country, is going to come with a friendly conversation from a thoughtful clerk, but when they do, well, they can be very fruitful. I highly recommend the practice of finding a decent wine shop anytime you’re in a different city. This is partly because you might want something good to drink; but more, so much more, because wine shop owners invariably make excellent restaurant recommendations.

José Luis at Bodegas Trigo, a tiny little spot with a great selection in the Atocha area of the city, told me about two establishments within close proximity: DisTinto, a wine-focused taberna, and Ganz Wine Bar. No matter what they’re called in Europe: wine bars, enotecas, tabernas, cafés, so many eateries are dedicated to the same program, which is presenting delicious simple foods, mostly in the range of about 15 Euros per plate. The thoughtful beverage service in these places tends either to be mostly about wine or all about wine.

Ganz was full that first night, though after seeing the menu online, I vowed to find a way to have dinner there when I was back in Madrid after the winery visits. I had managed to sleep a little on the plane, and between the adrenaline and the time difference (six hours), I was practically dancing down the stairs into DisTinto, a charming little subterranean wine bar. I was greeted by a friendly staff, and promptly with a glass of Cava and a menu, presented on the side of a magnum bottle. There were croquetas, the fried pods made with béchamel sauce and other ingredients, cured ham of every imaginable variety, and my first look at the ubiquitous Russian salad, which I would subsequently see everywhere, and which seemed like a glorified potato salad.

And then of course there were the tortillas, the classic Spanish dish that resembles a frittata, offered with a litany of fillings: octopus, cuttlefish, salted cod, cecina (dried beef). I opted for potatoes, mushrooms, and “trufa,” which probably didn’t mean truffles per se, but seemed to promise something fragrant and delicious. Ten minutes later, a server appeared with a single-serving cast iron pan, moving a perfectly golden mass around in it. He promptly flipped it, dispatched it onto a plate with the panache of a magician and set it on the table. A minute later, there was a glass of Mencia, the great red grape of Spain’s northwest, to wash down the perfectly moist and succulent tortilla, eggs in the center just a shade or two shy of fully cooked. The bill for my two small glasses of wine, tomato salad, and tortilla: thirty-four Euros.

The next morning, I picked up my rental car and set out for Rioja, the famous wine region about three hours north of Madrid. Traveling by high-speed train is one of the things I have enjoyed the most on the half-dozen or so trips I have made to Europe, but there is no way to visit wineries without renting a car. I arrived early to Haro, the little village tucked in next to the Ebro River, mere steps from the handful of world-famous wineries located on the outskirts of town. After an hour of watching locals enjoy their noontime breakfast of cold beer and cigarettes, I pulled into the driveway at López de Heredia, a winery founded in 1877, which was among the most important producers with whom I worked over 20 years in California restaurants.

Lidia, who guided our little tour through the dank, mold-covered, impossibly magical cellars, and then led a tasting, asked that we not post any photographs to social media; after I descended the stairs to those caves, I understood why. All of the greatest European wineries have been navigating the same challenge for years, but especially recently, and that is how to satisfy surging global demand for their wines, while their vineyards produce more or less exactly the same amount of wine that they always have. Prices are bound to rise, and they have. But a person gets a sense that these wineries are also trying to mitigate the attention they receive from fans all over the world.

After the cellar tour, our group of eight shared a bottle each of López de Heredia’s two famous Tinto reservas, 2011 Viña Tondonia and 2010 Viña Bosconia. Lidia told us that Tondonia was the first vineyard planted at the property by Rafael López de Heredia, in the late 19th century. She thinks Tondonia usually has a bit more freshness and acidity of the two reservas, and the Bosconia tends to be more tannic and structured. A few days later, by chance, at a wine bar in Barcelona, I shared a bottle of 1983 Viña Tondonia with a stranger.

Matt Straus is the owner of Heirloom Café, a San Francisco restaurant, and recently bought the former Williamsville Inn in West Stockbridge. He has worked at renowned restaurants in Boston and Los Angeles. He was named one of the top sommeliers of 2011 by Food and Wine Magazine.