Fel Faixedas: "Jean Leon is the kind of person I admire, but we don't know him well enough here."

You've played all the roles of the auca. You've worked with wine in the restaurant world, as a promoter with the program "Glops," and you're also a consumer. Which of these facets do you have the most special memories of?

— There was a moment when we got tired of the theater, in 2014. I had an idea to open a restaurant in Arbúcies, Mams, which is a restaurant where, basically, I wanted to have Catalan wines, very well priced, to bring them closer to the people. I told Xuri [Carles Xuriguera] and he joined as a partner. At the same time, Xuri, who wanted to return to Montgrí, started making wine, and I became his partner. But a year later, when he told me that if I planted the vines now it would take us three or four years to make the first wine, I dropped out. He took over the wine business alone, and I took over the restaurant alone, because everything burns me out. I liked being part of that process, but there came a point where I distanced myself.

"Distancing" from wine in general, or from production processes?

— Generally speaking, no! I've learned a lot, but I haven't been as interested as Xuri, and I've focused on the final stage of winemaking: as a consumer. I like it when people explain the winemaking process to me, but it's not my passion; however, it is for him.

Have you always had a close relationship with wine?

— Not at all. I entered the world of wine for Xuri. When I met him, he was drinking Coca-Cola, and it doesn't matter that 25 years ago, several friends and I went to a nice restaurant for dinner. Everyone ordered wine except me, who ordered a Coca-Cola. Everyone insulted me a lot, but I didn't drink wine. Xuri patiently taught me about wine because he comes from a family that was already a producer, and I remember how he spoke to me about the vineyard with such passion. That's why I got hooked on this world.

So much so that the restaurant you started, Mams, ended up revolving around wine. What did you keep in mind when creating the wine list?

— We tried to stock wines from all over Catalonia, and I liked the new things that came out. It was a really cool time. Since I didn't know much about wine, I made up for it by telling stories about the wineries, and I realized that people need little excuses to choose this wine. And the story behind that bottle really helped me sell that wine.

Which story would you choose?

— I particularly like the one by the Xitxarel·lo brothers, Àlex and Albert. I got to meet them, and I found it funny that they had no problem saying they'd never been to Priorat, but they believed in the project and their madness, and they managed to pull it off. They had a great marketing idea with the names they put on the wines. Suddenly, everyone wanted to drink Xitxarel·lo.

I think you also particularly like the story of Jean Leon, who even brought it to the top of the stage.

— For me, Jean Leon is the kind of person I admire. His ability to rise from the poverty he suffered in Santander after the Civil War, come to Barcelona, ​​then to France, and then to the United States. He's a character who managed to be loved by people like Paul Newman and James Dean... and when he was older, he discovered the Penedès region and ended up making wine, which we still drink.

Do you think it is well enough known in Catalonia?

— No, not at all. I've always said we're missing a Jean Leon film. He was a person deeply rooted in Catalonia and his family, and his story is fascinating. But the play we made based on the adaptation of Martí Gironell's book didn't have much commercial success. Because the people who hired us always asked us if it made people laugh, and, well, it didn't make people laugh, especially, but people left the play very happy, they were amazed.

Now, with Carles Xuriguera, you're performing the play "Las madres" at the Poliorama. What role did your family play in your introduction to that world?

— In this regard, they didn't have much influence. I do remember my father at home, always with a porrón on the table, but since we weren't farmers, we weren't so aware of this culture. Furthermore, neither the wine nor the cava were particularly good at home. In fact, in Arbúcies, we're known as the vineyardsThe people of Sant Hilari call us that because, although there's a lot of forest now, a hundred years ago it was all vineyards. The phylloxera outbreak took advantage of the situation to plant vineyards to sell in France. But the quality was terrible. And the people of Sant Hilari, the neighboring village, were screwed by the bad wine we made. To counterattack, we call them chamois, because the chamois is an animal that lives in the mountains, alone, isolated... The one I do remember drinking cava was my grandmother.

Because?

— Some Sundays, he'd buy a batch of six Benjamins, and he was 80 years old. After a while, he'd say, "I think I'll open another one," and then in the afternoon, he'd say his stomach hurt because he'd drunk tap water and it made him sick. I don't think it was because of that [laughs].

If you could have one last glass of wine, who would it be with?

— Man, the biggest glass of wine I'd love to make right now would be with my mom. I wouldn't make just one glass, maybe we should make a bottle... Obviously, with my wife too, but I'm lucky that I already do it with her. But for my mom, I'd give all the money in the world to have a glass of wine with her. Maybe we could meet up somewhere else. I'm sure it would be really cool.