1999 Chateauneuf du Pape, A Decade in the Books

I’ve recently gone through a couple dozen ‘99s & wanted to put some broad strokes to the canvas of the vintage. The accessibility and early maturation of 1999 has made it food friendly for years, but a handful of top wines could still use a bit more cellaring to round into form. Though ’98 was the first blockbuster vintage to emerge in Chateauneuf du Pape after 1990, ’99 has been a safer bet for me of late from a consistency standpoint (particularly in light of some bizarrely poor showings by Marcoux, Marcoux VV, Bonneau, Centenaire, Vieille Julienne). 1999 tends to mentioned alongside 2004 and 2006 from a qualitative/stylistic perspective, and I generally agree that each of those vintages share a forward, fairly homogenous mix of very good to outstanding wines. ’04 and ’06 do have a leg up on 1999 from a sanitary standpoint (’99 is not for the brett averse) and the number of quality oriented producers has increased substantially (and continues to increase) over the last 10 years, beefing up the resumes of ’04 and ’06 in relation. Whether or not ’04 & ’06 will mature as quickly as ’99, or maintain the same accessibility throughout their lives, remains to be seen. That being said, the raw materials appear to have enough commonality to breathe life into the comparison & keep the debate alive.

With regards to consistency, 1999 is a superior vintage than 2003. I don’t know if that is a widely accepted notion in the wine community, but for my palate there is no debate. To my way of thinking, a vintage can only be considered outstanding if there is some uniformity to its quality, and ’03 is far too irregular to be considered as such. You can’t let a few great ones blind you to the flaccidity that follows beneath the best. Moreover, far too many ‘03s teeter on the edge of what I consider to be balanced, compelling wines. In relationship to ’00, ’01, ’05 and ’07, ’99 certainly lacks the punch, flesh and structure to compete, but again, I find these comparisons enlightening in that they remind me of how varied each good to great year in Chateauneuf has been over the past decade. The style of ’99, while not suited to everyone’s taste, offers a great window into the virtues of mature Chateauneuf du Pape. The wines share wildly pungent scents, fresh fruit and are beginning to gain a sense of mineral traction that is all too rare in Grenache-based wines. I adore the vibrancy and explosive nature of the top vintages in Chateauneuf, but ’99 reminds me that a little bit of rusticity goes a long way. In fact, rusticity is just the feature that attracted me to the Rhone in the first place.

In terms of back-filling, many of these wines still offer terrific value relative to the tags they are currently fetching. For example, you can grab anywhere from 3 to 6 bottles of the ’99 Vieille Julienne Reserve (a watershed year for the cuvee) for the price of one, neonatal bottle of the ’06. Instead of paying a premium for ‘99s at their peak, the downward pricing pressure of the more highly touted, neighboring vintages have kept the ‘99s affordable. Such is the luxury of the sandwich vintage. Here’s to hoping that ’04 and ’06 can surpass their ’99 comparators in terms of quality, yet follow suit in terms of price.

I’ve culled out a few wines from the pack that I thought best typified the year. I hope you enjoy my impressions.

The top tier of my sampling includes (mid 90’s):

Vieille Julienne Reserve (in my opinion, their first great wine)
Beaucastel Hommage Jacques Perrin (what else is new?)
Chateau Beaucastel
Henri Bonneau Reserve des Celestins
Marcoux Vieilles Vignes

The second tier (low 90’s):
Clos des Papes
Charvin
Vieux Donjon

The others…(mid to high 80’s)

Select notes, in order of qualitative preference:

Vieille Julienne Reserve, '99

Trademark creme de cassis nose of Vieille Julienne pops from the glass, w/ an exotic flicker of blueberry, violet and high class tobacco making an appearance in the bouquet. The palate is effortless & super-suave, seamlessly gliding along an uber-refined bed of tannins (which are surprisingly powerful for the vintage). As the wine sits in the glass, a river of mouth-watering acidity lets alluring bittersweet cocoa & garrigue notes chime in on the finish. This is a pristine performance that is in its prime, yet should provide plenty of sex appeal for the next decade, 95 points. Come to think of it, this vintage really began the almost un-interrupted run of quality for the domaine (the '98 was solid, but lagged behind the best of the vintage) and is easily one of the best wines of the vintage.

Henri Bonneau Reserve des Celestins, 1999

Bonneau bucks the quick to mature ’99 trend, as his Celestins hides behind a compact, coiled facade. Tight as a drum, subtly hinting at Asian spice, nutmeg, smoked meats and candied orange peel notes. The attack suggests supremely sweet fruit, yet the structure still holds sway, pinning down the belly of the wine from bursting. This is a rare ’99 that demands cellaring, but is sure to reward patience, 94+ points.

Marcoux Vieilles Vignes, 1999
While I’ve had far too many bottles of insipid ’98 soil my opinion of this domaine, the ’99 wipes the slate clean with a heady, liqueur driven profile of vivid kirsch, black raspberry, rose petal and graphite notes. This has all the characteristics of a top vintage Celestins, w/ round, mouth-filling textures, exuberant fruit and a grounded, almost chalky minerality framing the body head to toe. Tasting this reminded me of my favorite Robert Parker analogy to a Henri Bonneau wine, “These wines often taste as if someone took one of the old Grenache vines, threw it in a Cuisinart, liquified it, added a bit of brandy, and then bottled it.” For those that say Grenache isn’t transparent, I’d like to know of one other place on this planet that can produce a wine like this, 94 points.

Beaucastel Chateauneuf du Pape 1999
Up w/ Bonneau, this has to be one of the more structured, tightly wound efforts of the vintage. A deep crimson red, with primal, savory scents of dried Angus steak, cumin, curry powder, new saddle leather and gravely undertones. In the mouth, the attack is bright, beefy and layered in spicy sheets. A core of juicy red fruit pumps over a bed of garrigue, fanning out to a long, peppery finish. This effort easily has the structure to improve over the couple years, and perhaps end up as one of the longest lived Chateauneufs of the vintage, 93+ points.

Charvin '99
Believe it or not, this is a much better effort than I thought it would be. This squeaky clean '99 (oxymoron) is adorned in a sweet bouquet of incense, cassis, pepper, black tea and anise. High toned and full of fresh, mouth-watering acidity in the palate, w/ a juicy, medium to full bodied frame that leaves a lip-smacking, complex impression. A complete package from A to Z, 93 points.

Clos des Papes ‘99
I recently bought a 6 pack of this 10 year old beauty at a third of Clos des Papes current release price. The transparent ruby shade belies the intensity of the wine, with its effusive nose of sandalwood, fresh garrigue, melted licorice, dark plum, macerated cherry and lead pencil shaving notes. A beautifully complex, resolved performance, w/ all the silky texture and invigorating acidity one could hope for from a fine ‘99. The shapely tannins reinforce the structure harmoniously, turning the corner on a peppery finish. As the wine sits in the glass, a wave of mesquite & iron flicker through the flavor profile, 93 points.

Vieux Donjon Rouge 1999

Yet another ’99 that commands a place at the dinner table. This vintage was composed of 75% Grenache, 10% Mourvedre, 10% Syrah and a mélange of the other allowed varieties made their way into the cuvee. An extraverted perfume, if a tad bretty (sound familiar ’99 fans?), as graphite, sweet tobacco, dried hay, grilled game, black currant, savory herb and iron flood the nose in an immediate, earthy allure. In the mouth, the wine is fresh, medium to full bodied and still backed by sinewy grip, with hints of mesquite chiming in on the long finish. A gem of a ’99, packed w/ complexity and should continue to drink well over the next 5 to 10 years, 92 points.

Clos du Mont Olivet 1999

This is yet another classic example of the quick to mature vintage and is arguably showing at its apex, w/ a complex of array of licorice root, beef juices, fig and braised game notes. Again, this will definitely not be one for the brettophobes, but it’s important to note that the layers of sauvage elements are interwoven w/ fruit in an easy harmony, echoing along the sappy finish for close to 30 seconds, 91 points.

*On a tangential note, neighboring Gigondas stalwart’s Yves Gras also made a terrific prestige cuvee in ’99. The wine has impressed me so much so that I’ve drank half a dozen bottles over the past year at restaurant mark-ups (and I still find it to be a top value!).

Santa Duc Gigondas Prestige des Hautes Garrigues 1999
Along w/ the ’04,’99 is my favorite vintage of this supreme expression of Gigondas and I find it vastly superior to the more touted ’00 vintage (which, for me, is quite the statement). The nose is nothing short of supreme, serving up charcoal-grilled beef, dried truffles, hot stone, black currant paste, pepper and hints of mesquite spices on a platter fit for a king. Contrary to the uber-extracted versions of this cuvee, the ’99 is dazzling display of elegance, as the mouth-feel doesn’t skip a beat, without a rough edge or a hiccup to be found. A showpiece for its polish, yet remains a bloody, spice-rack speckled beast at its core, 94 points.

A couple examples of ‘the rest,’ formidable, yet far from fantastic:
(Also includes Senechaux, Barrot, Usseglio, Autard, Ferard Brunel, Grand Veneur, Janasse, La Nethe, Pegau, Rayas, Mon Aieul)

Cuvee du Vatican, Reserve Sixtine ‘99

Tasting this vintage provided me with a positive window to the evolutionary potential of the currently awkward ’06 Vatican wines, as this ’99 had integrated quite nicely. Notes of coffee, mint, sweet cherries and fresh berry fruit fill out this sappy, medium bodied effort that is squeaky clean and very well rounded. While this is an undoubtedly solid wine, it lacks the excitement and punch of what I consider to be outstanding, 88 points.

Mas de Boislauzon, ‘99

Ahhh the dirty vintage rears its head yet again, but I have to note that the brett in Mas de Boislauzon was definitely at a level where I consider it to be an attribute, sans Breeder’s Cup imagery. The scents were right up a Burghound’s alley, w/ a fascinating array of iron, tobacco, damp meadow, graphite, cherries and red currants seething from the glass. The mouthfeel was ethereal, w/ completely resolved tannin and bright acids pumping things along at just the right clip, 87 points.

I Continue to Kick Myself for not Drinking More of This

Allow me to put on my Matt Kramer hat on for a second while I wax on a true ‘gout de terroir,’ Jean Foillard’s ’07 Morgon Cote de Py.

It is no secret that the price of village level Burgundy fetches you the crème de la cru of Beaujolais, but when it comes to making a selection I’m faced w/ a familiar dilemma. Which one should I buy? 30 dollar Beaujolais is the type of investment that few are comfortable making, and I include myself into that mix. As luck shall have it, an opportunity arose to taste the one of the big boys for myself. In my palate I trust.

The first thing that stuck me about this Morgon was its sense of authenticity and breed. What immediate irony we have here. While its aromas speak more of the earth and imagined origin than any mere fruit descriptors, there was a bright red fruit component more in line w/ a pomegranate than any customary Pinot Noir cherry. The vivid entry turned over to a spicy core of black pepper, rocky soils & chalk dust, buttressed by an indescribable hearty component that beefed up the spine. While hardly stout in terms of its body, the minerality swelled in jagged edges, providing raw presence over power. The 2 or 3 opportunities I’ve had to taste fine bottle aged Beaujolais have given me enough faith that a few more years in the cellar will unlock another door or two, 92 points.

Now, allow me to quickly justify my stupidity for not drinking wines like this more often. Let’s talk superficial judgments.

Its price isn’t the only element stacked against it. The fancy schmancy label reeks of real Burgundy envy, topped off with a red tipped wax capsule of ‘cult-like’ pretension. The back of the bottle doesn’t get any better, unless you can think of a positive connotation to associate w/ Kermit Lynch importing the stuff. Just another way to dress up the ugly baby…the harder you try to prop up the pricy plonk, the more pathetic it seems. Of course, re-inventing the Beaujolais wheel can’t without commercial growing pains. Good thing I’m not in Foillard’s marketing department, as all I’ve got to offer is scathing commentary, sans constructive alternatives.

All that said, the superficial bias of this bottle isn’t nearly as difficult a mountain to climb as the ignoble label of its appellation (much less its dearly departed variety, exiled from the hallowed soils of the north). The one compliment I’ve got to give the packaging is that the dreaded ‘B word’ is nowhere to be found on the label, and that praise is more directed towards the French A.O.C. than team Foillard. So great, it isn’t labeled as Beaujolais, but what the hell is a Morgon Cote du Py? Maybe the Burgundy guys buy this stuff and are as versed in Beaujolais terroir as they are in the Cote de Nuits. Perhaps it’s much ado about nothing…maybe the premium Beaujolais business is booming. Marketing snafus aside, if pricy Beaujolais consistently delivers these types of goods, shame on me for buying cheap imitations of a more noble kind.

*Photo courtesy of cherriesandclay.com

Great Wine, and the Progression of Emotions & Questions Attached to it.

Sometimes I’m in a more George Thorogood frame of mind, not to say that drinking alone is a healthy habit to form, but there’s a time & a place for everything. My good pal Buddy Weiser...

The wife is out of town, the Yankees just won the World Series…screw it, pop something ridiculous. No guilt, all glut. While scavenging the wine fridge, I searched for a bottle that could spin my inner monologue dial….something I’d otherwise be ravenous about. Perhaps a rumble w/ the wife over the last sip type of bottle…or a wine that drives me rabid, damning even my closest of friends for stealing precious glasses away from my gullet.

Well, how about a wine I’ve never tasted? Sure, as a somewhat contemplative mood was sure to swirl through my mind…at least once the sports bravado wore off. Considering I’d just sprinted through a half dozen bottles of the ’07 Kongsgaard Chardonnay, why not ante up for the top dog? No one’s looking, just rip the sucker open and cope w/ the culpability later. It’s only wine…too much mental back & forth was begninning to erode my spontaneity, so I finally shut up & popped that bad boy.

Mind frame: initially visceral, incoherent.

First tangible experience: dude, even the cork smells great.

Then…philosophy takes over, poor excuse poetry:

The bouquet was one blast off after another, with an overwhelming intensity that struck me as paradoxically obvious and profound all at once. Its thick legs dripped down the stem like melted ice, giving way to a clear base of golden color. 14..1% alcohol my ass. The explosive nature of the fruit could be initially construed as hyperbolic & caricature-like, but further investigation unveiled something singular. In the mouth, the Judge struck me as one of the most texturally dynamic American Chardonnays that I’ve ever tasted. It was gossamer and gigantic all at once; rippling a striking mineral chord through its pools of fleshy plumpness. The size & breadth could likely be replicated by other producers privy to warm Californian sites, yet its dimension, depth and indescribable authenticity put this wine in a rarified New World air. Talk about bucking the simplistic rationale that super cuvees defining traits lay w/in their size alone.

Finally, a curt mood of summation dashes in, peppering bullet points a la Reader’s Digest:

• There’s no way I’ve ever had a more minerally injected New World wine.
• There’s no way I’ve had a more enormously proportioned, yet mineral-driven wine.
• There's no need for fruit descriptors w/ a wine like this.
• How come there is such a variance in minerality from Kongsgaard’s entry level Chardonnay & the Judge? The Napa Chardonnay has comparatively zero mineral tone vs. the Judge (at least at this phase in the game).
• It’s far too expensive a wine to conduct experiments w/, but Old World fans (who may still hate this wine) need to know that the minerality in this wine is legit, far from one of those taster created ‘I think that may be a pebble’ types of New World minerality. This is an avalanche at a quarry after a seismic event.
• No clue how it will evolve, but based on how it reacted to prolonged air exposure, I can only imagine that the best case scenario would synthesize a Chave white Hermitage-like density w/ Montrachet texture.
• I wish I was financially loaded enough to explore said bullet point…or, patience not withstanding, well off enough to have another quiet evening alone w/ another bottle.

Chateau Palmer Vertical

I can count my experiences w/ this estate on one hand (save for multiple samplings of the great ’99 vintage), so I drew upon a familiar M.O., vertical immersion, to get the ball rolling with Chateau Palmer. Perhaps one of the reasons that I haven’t given Palmer much play has been due to its price. Well, that and its siren of a neighbor, Chateau Margaux’s sea-sized shadow, trimming my view of the appellation to tunnel vision. My few experiences w/ Palmer have been fine, but hardly remarkable enough to keep me searching. So our Bordeaux clique gave it a shooter’s chance at Allegretti see if there are, in fact, points awarded for second place.

A duo of Fevre Chablis lit the candle, w/ the lightly oaked ’04 Preuses impressing me w/ its precision and clarity of flavor. Its nutmeg tinged green fruit glided over a refined, stony frame. Chiseled yet fleshy, the Preuses is already in a sweet spot & primed to drink well over the next half-dozen or so years. The ’02 Valmur, on the other hand, was caught in a funky phase. Its nose reminded me of an old Savennieres, w/ creamy hazelnut, quince and ginger scents hitting at disjointed angles, leaving a dull and flat impression on the palate. It’s debatable whether or not this has fallen to premature oxidation or has crept away to an awkward corner of its lifespan. The always affable NV Duval Leroy cleansed our palates afterwards, with its slightly evolved notes of coffee, grilled nuts and honeysuckle. She’s bright & fresh, w/ a refined bead of bubbles framing its finish w/ class.

The single blinded flights of 3 commenced w/ the sweet perfume of the ’95, a simply beautiful nose of pure black currant, truffle oil & morning earth. Closed and a bit lean in the mouth, while obviously ripe it was just too taut to yield its inner virtue. This vintage continues to be overshadowed by ’96 in side by side tastings (at least from a left bank perspective), and I begin to wonder if their snail’s pace towards fleshing out will be eclipsed by their proclivity to dry out. The latter two vintages of the flight couldn’t have been more transparent. The first, obviously the 2000, revealed the power & raw density of the vintage, w/ broad, yet sweet tannins coating the smoky graphite, dark chocolate and blackberry flavors. Primal and still a touch too young to start playing with, the wine’s shield of sinew is sure to Sheppard its full belly of fruit well into its 40s. The final member of the flight, obviously the ’99, seduced with its sensual, up-front sweetness, bringing an almost cherry cordial-like note to the bouquet. Its suave, velvety roundness spread sweet licorice & graphite flavors over the palate like melted butter to bread, offering up the pure pleasure of its primary coat. The only problem w/ our group’s brilliant take on the vintages is that we flip-flopped them, mislabeling the ’99 as the titan and the ’00 as the vixen. Whoops?! I don’t think there’s any question left to what the wine of the vintage was in 1999.

The second flight was yet another moment where our group’s bravado outweighed the situation’s tangible reality. The first vintage, clearly the great ’83, had an absolutely gorgeous, tertiary bouquet, full of mint, basil leaf, porcini mushrooms & lead pencil shaving, leaving me weak in the knees. The savory entry left the palate awash in sweet cassis and ripe cherry fruit, driving its full bodied band of flavor over a rock solid backbone. The apex of the mountain is a remarkable experience with great wine, and this was just that point in time that all its beauty has touched the summit, for if it were to fly any closer to the sun it would surely leave your lips in flames. Its pinnacle was followed by the stern, struggling youth of what must have been the ’90, w/ grippy, black tea-like tannins squeezing the core of uber-fruit to the point of strangulation. Spicy notions of licorice snap & black currant fanned a bit of opulence, but there was simply too much beefed up tannin dialing back the high notes. Finally, the lone contamination of the evening brought up the rear of the flight, and I seem to have lost its origin through the TCA haze (the ’89?). Well, smart minds think alike, and our genius was showing yet again. The ’90 was the ’83 and the ’83 was the ’90. The ‘bizarro Palmer world’ continues to trudge on, leaving us w/ the impression that the ’83 is over-rated & under-evolved, and the ’90 was under-rated and over-evolved. In spite of the rapid progression of this particular bottle of the ’90, the fact remains that it performed impeccably. That being said, if this bottle was at all representative of its true lifespan, I’d drink up whatever stash I had over the next 5 years….before lightning leaves the bottle.

The final flight rendered me so idle that I forgot to jot down the correct vintages of each. Thankfully, Kravitz paid more attention than I & we’ve since connected the dots. The first was fresh, with a lip-smacking, mouth-watering disposition that gave its dusty cherry core nice drive and focus. There’s a good deal of substance remaining in the ‘85, especially on the finish, which fans out an attractive array of cedar and spice notes. The second, the ’75, had demonstrated considerable decay, with its fading colors and watered down character turning greener & greener w/ each subsequent sniff. The soil tones were too dirty to be pleasant & the surrounding cherry and tea flavors were too modest to keep the wine afloat. We capped off the night w/ the modern, big-dollar youth of the 2002. The unattractive high char-nose was obvious, w/ splintery elements funneling over a mixture of dark fruits & rubbing alcohol. I considered this an unmasked, almost vulnerable showing, w/ a midpalate pummeled by extraction & shallow fruit, ending on an abrupt note. Far from an outstanding wine, yet in all fairness its phase appears to be an unforgiving one. Don’t touch.

All told, the ’90, ’99 and ’00, for me, were the most singular expressions of Palmer during the vertical. While distinct, they all synthesized elegant, full frames w/ terrific perfume. The ’83 and ’95 had outstanding elements, yet I’m concerned that their stubbornness may get the best of them. I would have liked to see what Palmer did w/ the raw materials of ’89 (especially as a contrast to the rapidly evolved showing of the ’90), as well as ’96 (juxtaposed to the showy, yet hard ’95). In terms of older vintages, if anyone has had experience w/ some of the more heralded vintages (ie: ’61), please chime in. I’m curious to see what Palmer’s perception is, particularly to Margaux buffs. My sample size is far too small to have formed an opinion of any validity, but the top performers of this tasting have piqued my curiosity to dig a bit deeper.

Wine Rating

Fevre Preuses '04 93

Fevre Valmur '02 78?

Duval Leroy NV 90

Palmer:

'95 91

'99 96+

'00 95

'90 97

'83 92

'89 ?

'85 89

'75 71

'02 79?

*For fair balance, I believe Rich was the only source of dissension in correctly identifying the ’99 and ’00. His reasoning was that ‘I always like the 2000’s best, and it is a slutty vintage.’ Well played Mr. Stahmer.

100 Point Wine, Before & After

Expectations and experience tend to soften excitement in wine, muffling the high pitch of greatness to meager moans. It can be difficult to savor the high highs once a sensory resume has been established, just as the anticipatory thrill of perfection can carve the pleasure from the stem like a critical mass. As oddly as it sounds, the Quilceda Creek 2003 & Barroche Pure 2005 had the odds stacked high against them on football Sunday. Adding two 100 point albatrosses to two discerning palates, coupled w/ atrophied wallets, was certain to net disastrous results of squared proportions.

The backdrop, a non-competitive NFL match between the New York Giants and Oakland Panty Raiders, proved to be as scintillating an event as a horizontal comparison of country appellation boxed wine. I pity the people of Oakland, home to a professional band of charlatans, who continue to pilfer millions of dollars from their masked fans, governed by a throng of stern senility.

We began with a chuckle, swilling down a bottle of 2007 Beaurenard blanc, which had the ullage of a 35 year old wine and all the zip one could hope for from a local grocer’s hard apple cider. Secondly, I unearthed a bottle of 1986 Trotanoy, which managed to fan a flame of mediocrity w/ all the smoke & heat of a damp kindling fire. Insipidly vegetal, with beet root and tired fungal flavors smoldering through the palate like dead leaves. A quintessential example of what tertiary wines taste like with nary a drop of fruit left in the well, leaving the mouth w/ a hankering for Australian Shiraz, desiccated.

As the Quilceda & Barroche lay in their decanters, juxtaposed in dark brooding shades, all I could think of was how much I wanted a beer. Bad football and over-priced, frothy Bud Light go together like Stilton and Sauternes. That said, my apathy for the game kept me away from Miller time, so I drew some of the Barroche into my Burgundy stem like a scientist sucking away a sample into a slick pipette. It had been brewing in the decanter for over an hour, intensifying like hot coffee in a French press. Now I’d tasted every other vintage of Pure to date, the ’04, ’06 and ’07 (Julien came on board at Barroche in ’02, w/ his first two vintages being to erratic to bottle), but I had yet to taste ‘the vintage.’ ‘The vintage,’ deified w/ a 3 figure salute in the Hedonist’s Gazette, is scarcer than a defected Cuban ballplayer on Castro soil. My opportunities to savor one of my two bottles hadn’t existed up to that point, so I created one. I took a deep breath & did my best to extricate all the pomp and circumstance from the glass, then tasted the wine.

It was closed at first, almost blinding you to its intensity and depth. As I patiently swirled away, scents of rose petals, pepper and sweet kirsch emerged, on the verge but far too coiled to disband. Its flavors attacked slowly but continued to progress, elevating like numbers on a dial with each swish and swirl. Full and enveloping, then absolutely blasting off to an explosive finish that leaves your senses recoiled, like an abrupt stop to a high speed chase. The flavors ran the gamut through the dark side of the Grenache-spectrum, twisting a bitter cocoa and fruitcake note on the midpalate, then spackling its tactile mineral core on the back-end.

The ’05 Pure is tangibly young, but seems to share a bit of its neighbor’s sandy soil driven minerality, in spite of its immense size, structure and breadth. I own one more bottle, and I aint’ touchin’ it for at least another five years. One down….

If the Quilceda Creek were a person, it would be stewing away in that decanter thinking ‘great, now it’s my turn?!’ Tough act to follow, but the Quilceda did have a leg up on the Pure from a couple angles. One, I’d only tasted one previous vintage of the wine (’04), and two, the Cabernet grape was sure to seem like a novelty to my palate, seeing that I draw Grenache fluids into my body intravenously. Well, the stars were aligned for QC ’03, scattering a constellation of fruit that blanketed any possible dissension from each one of its 100 points.

Its perfume, redolent of eucalyptus and the oils of crushed flowers, was as pure and natural an aromatic expression of New World Cabernet as I’ve ever smelled. While large-scaled in the palate, it possessed an ethereal sense of ease that belied her density, unspooling layers of flavors like wavering fields of wheat in the breeze. The finish was awash with tiers of cassis and blueberry fruit, packaged by impeccably suave tannins. I found myself more contemplative after I swallowed it, as it grew in presence the longer the flavors lingered. If I were an architect conjuring a Cabernet from the ground-up, I don’t think I could have even imagined assembling a structure more impressive than this.

On this particular day, the two wines defied all the drugstore psychology. While it is quantitatively impossible to smash the expectations of a 100 point wine (save for a new scale), these wines left resounding impressions in addition to their promise, and I found that particularly noteworthy. If a certain entity is supposed to illicit a certain familiar emotion, does that render the end result less pleasurable? I’d gather the answer is sometimes yes, sometimes no. Wines, like people, are moody, fickle creations that are too multi-dimensional to predict or expect. Even if they possess the raw materials & acute evolution to affect you in a subjectively ‘perfect’ manner, what if you are incapable of embracing that affection at that given point? The mood wasn’t right, the company was stifling, the food was loathsome, you didn’t sleep well last night….so on & so forth.

Should I be more impressed w/ these wines for their ability to deliver perfection in spite of some peripherally damning elements? Or should I credit the environment for enabling the experience to proceed w/o a hitch? I’m inclined to champion the former, particularly w/ the Oakland Raiders and hot dogs filling out the nexus of the latter.

As an epilogue, I can say that the two wines shared an objective profundity in terms of presence and length. While it is difficult to quantify either trait, I can only describe them as aspects of 3 dimensional wines. They affect your senses through a range of emotions. Their perfumes, textures and array of vivid flavors seem to mature and excite each aspect of taste & all at once, while the wine is present and when it is gone. They evolve like scenes of a play, maintaining the moment while impressing upon a broader scope.

For comparison purposes, we drank a bottle of 2000 Beaucastel afterwards. With all due respect to the Chateau, it seemed a mere aperitif after these two goliaths, demonstrating just how ‘normal’ even a great wine can be in such classic company. When interpreting scores, don’t kid yourself into believing that the differences between a 100 point wine and a 93 point wine are negligible (for those that don’t score wines, you can extrapolate the points into whatever classification of experience that you choose).

As an addendum, these wines were all drank 3 weeks ago. I took no notes but remember the Pure & QC as if they were still on my lips. I had no intention of using Beaucastel as a whipping boy, but it provided a much needed sense of relativity.

Super Sardinian

Agricola Punica is a sprawling 370 acre estate that lies in the southwestern region of Sardinia, splicing its land between the Barrua & Narcao sites. Admittedly, the only reason I sampled the Barrua was due to its high pedigree, as it is the brainchild of Sebastiano Roca of Sassicaia fame, the President of Catina Santadi Antonello Pilloni & under the technical supervision of Giacomo Tachis. Whatever the catalyst, I’m glad to have Barrua as part of my vinous consciousness.

Tachis found enough similitude from his origins at Bolgheri to jump into Sardinia waters & explore the virtues of old bush trained Carignano. As for Barrua, it is labeled under the I.G.T. of Isola dei Nuraghi, which makes allusion to the Neolithic stone towers that were erected by the Nuragic civilization, an archetype of the pre-Roman Sardinian landscape. The Barrua vineyard is a cross-section of 25 acres of old vine Carignano & 50 acres of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and younger Carignano vines, planted to soils of clay and sand.

Intense Scirocco African winds are a thumbprint of the southwestern Sardinia climate, sprinting over the hot Sardinian sea like a southern Rhone mistral. The arid, sun-baked summers draw another parallel to the Rhone, which further elucidates the success of Cannonau (Grenache) in the island. The more I traipse through the tunnels of the island’s climatic data, the more I dig it.

Barrua is a blend of 85% Carignane, 10% Cabernet Sauvignon & 5% Merlot. It represents the finest lots, unfined and unfiltered. The elevage is exacting, as the wine spends 18 months in a third of new, a third one year old & a third 2 year old Allier oak barriques. The wine retails in the high 30’s price range.

Agricola Punica Barrua, 2004
I loved the '03 vintage of this wine & the '04 version follows suit. This novel Sardinian blend represents the nexus between Sassicaia's Cabernet and the rugged garrigue of the Rhone valley. The perfume is redolent of warm, Cabernet Franc-like scents, with thyme, cedar, pepper and menthol essences seeping from the stem. Its richness of character translates to the palate, as a lacy entry drives spicy red currant and plum flavors along a finely textured frame. The symmetry & elegance are of Bordeaux text, yet a certain zesty freshness speaks in another volume, 94 points.

Recent Munchings on a Chateauneuf sandwich vintage

'99, '04 and '06 are hype's forgotten children, but us Chateauneuf drinkers will be getting plenty of mileage out of them for years to come. They sure get more to the gallon than the super premium jobs, and they’re ready to roll fresh out of the shop. I’ve been dipping into my ’06 stash of late, and I think the vintage will continue to compare favorably w/ ’04 in quality, style & value.

Clos du Mont Olivet, Cuvee Papet '06

A heady, spice rack of a wine, w/ a healthy dose of black pepper, cut cedar, cassis and game aromas working their way from the stem. The wine is classically structured and chewy in the palate, w/ a bit more bite than most '06s, w/ a firm, peppery command punctuating the close. This has the burly type of spice one expects from a young Crozes Hermitage. If you're curious to pop a cork now, you best be bringing beef to the table, 91+ points.

Vieille Julienne '06 CDP

Tight at first, but as it airs the purity of the vintage begins to shine through in the shape of rose, lavender, dark chocolate, blueberry and cassis fruit. Dense and layered, gently unfurling its polished flavors w/ grace and ease. A textbook Julienne, full on flavor & tannin, yet fair on the palate. She's another pretty one, 93+ points.

Colombis, '06'

06 was a lovely vintage for Isabel Ferrando's line-up, w/ her newlest label showcasing a harmony between the finesse of a Pinot Noir and the flesh of Grenache. This medium ruby shaded red smells of potpourri, fig paste, cinammon & sweet cherry liqueur. The flavors tap-dance across the palate, w/ succulent texture, fabulous purity and an easy-going freshness. Great out of the gates, and sure to please over the next dozen years, 92 points.

*I purchased each of the previous 3 wines for under 40 dollars (and the Colombis for 20 and change!).

Charvin '06

This vintage played right into the hands of Laurent, providing plenty of forward, fresh fruit in a way that this domaine always seems to take full advantage of. '06 is easily a superior vintage to '05 and '04 for Charvin, w/ a lively bouquet of crushed raspberry, espresso roast, sweet cherry liqueur and spicy herb notes. The palate is pure, polished and as seamless as any Grenache based wine could hope to be, w/ an effortless vein of minerality pumping under the beam of pure cherry fruit. This is surprisingly precocious but should cruise in the cellar for 15 years w/o shutting down as the '01 has, 94 points.

Pegau '06

This is my first taste of ’06 Pegau since sampling it from barrel a while back. The scents burst at the seams, with a flurry of pepper, leather, garrigue and warm cassis notes swimming away from the stem. A seamless, mid-to heavy weight boxer in the palate, with its tannins packed away under a silky veil of earthy fruit. The finish lays down the most blatantly bloody flavor I've ever noticed in a wine, rich in iron and lingering like bits of beef wedged between the teeth, 94 points.

Thus far, the most impressive '06 I've had outside of Vieille Julienne's Reserve has been Clos des Papes. It was rip-roarin' yet again over the weekend, with all the pepper, kirsch and gorgeous cassis fruit one could hope for. The depth and length are tape-measure jobs, and I can see this one going the distance, 97+ points.

Giving the Mailing List a Reboot

Almost exclusively a domestic wine phenomenon, the ‘mailing list’ is rejoiced in as often as it is reproached. Its maladies have been chronicled here ad nauseam, so I feel compelled to cite what endears me to it. While scarcity and exclusivity are obligatory reasons to march along the mailing parade, variety is what turns its necessity into a gift. Oddly, I think the two examples that provide me the most joy come from opposite coasts. Foxen, pocketed within a Santa Maria canyon, and Channing Daughters, near the edge of a fork at the east end, each exemplify all that’s right with the mailing list.

While each producer has their signatures, neither clings too tightly to a flagship. Channing Daughters finds their inspiration from Italian soils, crafting the only Tocai Friulano Pinot Bianco & Pinot Gris blends on the island. While its pulse may lay in Friuli, Channing breathes an air of all sorts of variety, including Gewurztraminer, Blaufrankisch, Aligote, Semillon, Muscat Ottonel & a mélange of the usual suspects one would expect form most any Long Island Winery. Over 25 different cuvees are made at Channing Daughters, experimenting not only w/ a variety of grapes, but clones, yeasts, oak casks (Slovenian, Hungarian, American & French oak all make an appearance in the cellar) and fermentation technique (whites co-fermented w/ reds, whites fermented on the skins, etc.) all vary from wine to wine. Channing Daughers not only sounds unique on paper, their wines deliver distinction to the more important senses of smell & taste. Their Tocai Friulano carries a telltale note of bitter almond, the native yeasts wildly punctuate the Sauvignon Blanc & each Chardonnay clone casts its own series of defining characteristics. The field blend, Mosaico, pays homage to Friuli by highlighting a particular spot in the vineyard, and their most novel blends, called Meditazione & Envelope, carry all the fiery layers of nuance that fermenting w/ grape skins can provide white wines.

Broadly speaking, Channing Daughters wines possess more punch & flesh than the vast majority of whites I’ve tasted from the east end. Each bottle exhibits a sense of creative artistry that is particularly daring when considering its humble origins. Imaginative wines that also manage to be pleasurable are some of wine’s richest discoveries, and thanks to the mailing list, I can relish in this find every other month.

Foxen, on the other coast, is a producer that I’ve had difficulty defining. Although they’ve upgraded their tasting facilities to a more contemporary dwelling, I can’t help but associate the Foxen label w/ the homey, unadorned shack that tugs you away from the road like a toy to a child. A quick glance at their line-up leaves you w/ the impression that Bill & Dick specialize in Rhone varietals, but that thought quickly dissolves into a soupy haze once your eyes crust over the words ‘Chenin Blanc.’ Not to be outdone, the Chenin anomaly finds company in various shapes & sizes, as their roster is filled with the likes of Sangiovese, Bordeaux & Burgundian varieties, Zinfandel and the Mission Grape (aptly listed in the ‘other wines’ section of their website). Wineries that attempt to master innumerable, finicky grapes usually render my intrigue idle, but not Foxen. There’s a spunky flash to be found in each of their wines, as if they were comedic on the surface but proud & humble at the core. Each bottle is packed w/ exciting, vivid flavors that remind you how fun good wine can be. In fact, tasting through Foxen’s wines is one of the first memories I have of anthropomorphizing wine. The personalities of each were too bright not to notice. While I’m certain I’d had other wines that were deserving of human characteristics before, I felt too mired in falsity to put a name to their faces. Sometimes I’m limited by environment, but at Foxen, the scent of pretension wouldn’t dare skulk through that shack’s stratum. A bit of irreverent wordplay always helps the young taster along too. Toasted Rope anyone?

The variety shared by each producer plays out like a bi-monthly gift, arriving at the base of my doorstep as if it were a Christmas tree rug. Each delivery finds me excited, with my interest on high and cynicism in the shadows. There’s something precious about the unpredictability of each package. I still view each bottle of Foxen as openly as their facade-less shack in Santa Maria, and each bottle of Channing Daughters as a liquid painted canvas, with all the artistry of one of their winery's wooden sculptures. The prices are modest and the shipments are small, keeping the debit dent well below the wife’s radar screen (nothing ruins child-like bliss more than fiscal responsibility). Foxen and Channing Daughters have taught me to embrace the mailing list, almost forgetting the four letter words attached to concepts like ‘allocation size’ and ‘waiting list.’
Yep, I can easily say that these guys do the mailing list right. Who out there has changed your perception of what is right w/ the mailing list? Or, if you are in more pessimistic spirits, who most perpetuates the odious connotation we have w/ the mailing list?

Biodynamics, Method to the Madness?

Just how many domaines are biodynamic in Chateauneuf du Pape? For a quick temperature check you need not look any further than to consultant extraordinaire, Philippe Cambie. With close to three quarters of Cambie's clients practicing biodynamic farming, this statistic takes on heavy relevance when considering his reach. While Chateauneuf is hardly the only region where biodynamics have taken a fashionable stronghold, its rampant proliferation brings to mind the question:

Gimmick or greatness?

Most fads tend to die out as quickly as they emerge, but when considering the fact that biodynamic farming demands excruciating diligence as well as obedience, it is difficult to paint it with an ephemeral brush. While there are certain to be some pockets of false brands that hope to use a biodynamic calling card as a sales pitch, the sheer difficulty of becoming certified (much less the laborious practice itself) is likely to discourage this as a widespread practice.

In terms of my personal understanding of it all, I'd like to appreciate how taste, or viticultural growth & vitality, are affected from a gravitational perspective, but I'm still wrapping my brain around the moon's more linear effects on tide & weight. Walk before I run.

What I find compelling is that at the root of this philosophy there is an immutable dedication and almost fanatical passion which often does find its way into the bottle. I am certain there are biodynamic wines that I won't enjoy, but I'd imagine the sheer attention to detail will almost always lead to something at least moderately interesting, if not convincing. If I looked at bottle selection purely from an inorganic, organic and biodynamic point of view, I'd imagine my batting average would increase as I moved along that pendulum (not to say there wouldn't be plenty of caveats). Even if I can't grasp how one can be so unearthly to say that 'they became a vine' or comprehend their extolled virtues of the 4th dimension, I have noticed that the crazier the vigneron, the more likely I am to find their product to be provocative in the least. While I've yet to find a true quality guarantee, a biodynamic stamp is as close as it gets to immediate intrigue.

Attention Syrah Lovers...

I highly recommend you give this producer a try, that is if you haven't already:

Rudi Schultz Syrah, Stellenbosch South Africa, ‘05

A really terrific Syrah, w/ an obvious Cote Rotie influence to its aromatic profile of char grilled bacon lard, espresso roast, black currant and crème de cassis notes. The smoky entry gives way to a rich, savory tune of juicy black fruit w/ ample weight & power, staying focused and silky through to the finish. While certain elements call a Guigal D’Ampuis to mind, others aspects seem to have a Stolpman-like sensibility. All in all, the 3 or so vintages I’ve had from Schultz have opened a window to something special, and this winery continues to be VERY competitive in terms of value, 94 points.

Backward Wine, A Nightmare Inspired by Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five

Reinier Palinal settled into a tightly wound leather chair, sliding back in it as it gave way to his soft collapse. He had sipped through a few glasses of warming Amarone after dinner, putting him into a sort of inquisitive haze. He liked to read about wine as he drank it. Scanning through pages of wine criticism, he began to appreciate how his favorite writers managed to anthropomorphize wine. Humanizing a beverage seemed foolish at first, but Reinier learned to look at wine as a vehicle of exploration. Discoveries on the road were always richer to him when someone else was doing the driving, so he learned to let the wine take him wherever it wanted to go. Always learn more from listening, he thought. Sometimes it was a woman behind the wheel, others were more masculine. He sipped the Amarone and let it flow through his body, numbing his tongue and blanketing the back of his throat like a lap cat. He wondered where he was going as he read on. Reinier felt it pushing forward through unseen hills, meandering along wavy smooth paths that trail on and on…misty colored, tugged left, right…sideways and backwards. Backwards, now how can a wine be backward he thought? He’d read several passages and found that expression’s obscurity baffling. Heady? Yes. Muscular, full…round, silky…tight, sure. Backward made no sense. He took another sip of wine and the heavy leather smell of the chair zig-zagged through his nose, weighing down on his eyelids…backwards.

Reinier Palinal opened his eyes to a group of fuzzy figures, slowly coming into focus as their human forms. There was laughter and a palpably jovial mood. Their teeth were charcoal colored, as if they’d been baptized in barbeque smoke, yet no one seemed to care. Reinier faintly made out other ambient noises amidst their giddy laughter. It must have been music but it wasn’t familiar. As he struggled to pinpoint the origins of the esoteric sounds, he noticed the merry groups of charcoal toothed people were walking backwards, up a series of steps and through rose colored doors. Through the doors lay a grand table, strewn w/ empty decanters and ruby stained wine stems that seemed to have lost their transparency in the light. Lipstick smudge and Vaseline residue spackled the edges of each glass. The group staggered towards selected seats, backwards and w/ all the calamity of nursery school children before naptime. A series of waiters and waitresses marched backwards into the room, paying each of the rowdy patrons hefty sums of money as they settled into their seats. The ridiculous mood of the event had all the fanfare of a college basketball tournament game.

Almost one by one, each person at the table raised a glass to their mouth, commencing a swirling, gargling motion w/in their cheeks. Once they were satisfied w/ their bubbling, they collectively un-pursed their lips and expectorated copious quantities of crimson colored liquid into each glass. As they put their glasses down, the stems filthy edges and stained bowl rims disappeared, as if their spew exerted a polishing effect. The empty decanters were then drawn above each glass; miraculously sucking each stem’s liquid upwards into each decanter until they were filled. Reinier noted that the emptied glasses sparkled in the light. The clean glasses were then put on stainless steel trays, as the waiters carried them backwards through a dimly lit corridor behind the table. As the wait staff disappeared into darkness, each patron unzipped their adjoined bags, removing dozens of empty wine bottles. Each bottle was topped off w/ an upside down cork, wedged halfway down the neck of each bottle like melted wax on a candle. The wine stained corks were removed from the bottle necks and placed on the table. The empty bottles were raised above the decanters and sopped up the wine like 750 mL vacuum cleaners. Once the bottles miraculously wiped each decanter cleanly, the wine stained corks were shoved on jagged screws, then violently sandwiched back into the bottles, tightly wound until level w/ the top of the bottle necks.

Reinier noticed a change in mood around the table. The raucous volume quelled as an air of borderline civility feathered through the room. Waiters returned to the table, walking backwards, carrying separate trays of soiled stems, strangled by thick legs of alcoholic residue. Each dirty glass was cleverly planted in disorder along the table, yet none of the patrons seemed pay it any mind. Hands over stems they went back to their gargling, spitting volumes of wine back into their glasses. Their teeth whitened and smiles lessened with each spit. The waiters continued to dirty the table, followed by the patrons picking up after them, making those filthy glasses & decanters as good as new. Muffled footsteps could be heard in the distance.

What next? Reinier assumed those newly filled bottles of wine ought to be placed back in those bags, as the moods and behaviors of the patrons clearly demonstrated. Reinier imagined that the wine would later be returned to the retailers they bought them from, whereby the retailer would subsequently be responsible for re-packaging it with more bottles of a similar ilk. These packages would then be mailed back to the people that produced the wines, so they could deconstruct each bottle into its original components. Over the next few months, alcohol would be painstakingly removed from the wine until harmless grape juice was rendered. The grape pickers would then stomp backwards, until the juice solidified into separate grape clusters. Each cluster would then be hidden away among innumerable rows of vines, where each grape would retract in size over time, turning into little green peas as the sun set in the east and rose in the west. Eventually the little green peas would disappear, along w/ the wine and the people that made it.

In terms of exploration, Reinier Palinal still lets his wines do the driving for him….but that evening w/ the Amarone taught him there’s one place he never wants to go. From that point on, he vowed never to purchase or drink a wine that a critic described as backward.

A vertical of Chateau Rayas, alongside a smattering of others w/ Robert Parker & company

250 Miles to Dim Sum

On a typical Wednesday of a typical week, I took the day off and decided to board a 7 am train to Washington D.C. It was a damp, overcast morning, covered in a blanket of slow humidity. Oppressive late July heat has never been kind to me, but it didn’t bother me on that typical Wednesday of that typical week. I was headed to Mark’s Duck House for dim sum, some 250 odd miles away, 3 and a half hours by train. I hadn’t eaten that morning and was hungry, w/ the salty idea of steamy shrimp dumplings making my stomach tremors audible above the rustling hum of the train.

I arrived at 10:30 and grabbed a taxi. We crossed over the Virginia boarder and the cab driver asked where I was going and where I came from. “New York,” I said. “Here on business,” he asked? “No, dim sum,” I replied matter of factly. When he asked what dim sum was, I lazily referred to it as a sort of Chinese brunch. He dropped the small talk and plowed ahead to a row of amorphous strip malls, each indistinguishably suburban and lost in bland dimension. I immediately thought of Lotus of Siam in Las Vegas, wondering if all the great holes in the wall outside of New York reside in strip malls. I tipped the driver well and took my coveted bottle of ’05 Rayas inside Mark’s Duck House.

Inside the scantily lit, yet colorful restaurant lay a series of pedestrian looking tables, fronted by what looked like a counter service for to-go orders. Hovering above, as if it were on a stage, lay a broad, oval shaped table that appeared to be completely aloof from its surroundings. It was flamboyant and festive, adorned in large, Riedel stem glasses that towered over the other modest, tucked away stands drowned in background noise. I clumsily wandered around the table w/ my bottle of 2005 Rayas like a half blind dog off its leash, until a waiter stopped me, asking if I needed any help. I asked him if he had any decanters for wine. After a game of roulette, which featured an old water pitcher, a carafe half full of ice cubes and cola & a sort of porcelain tea kettle, I settled on a cork screw and took my seat. When Robert Parker arrived w/ a handful of bottles wrapped in old Rayas labels, my anxiety eased up, and I let my hunger turn to thirst.

As more people and more wine began to arrive, almost two dozen bottles piled up on an alcohol stuffed carousel, spinning around the table like a giant Lazy Susan. I foolishly began w/ a Gewurztraminer from some producer of some vintage. It tasted like….Gewurztraminer. I had Rayas on the brain for over four hours and knew that I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything until I sipped some of that ethereal nectar. Oldest to youngest, I poured some of the ’78 into my stem.

After some damp, musty scents blew off, the ’78 Rayas began to round into form, highlighting wonderfully fresh layers of dried cherry, olive paste and sweet balsamic notes. Very light on its feet, & picking up a bit more density on the back end, the palpable mineral core reminded me of an older Burgundy that has stayed afloat, yet is well beyond its youthful paddling. The perfume of the ’79 was exceptional for a 30 year old Grenache, w/ scents of sweet cedar, graphite, wilted rose and cranberry fruit. Light to mid-weight, she danced across the tongue w/ plenty of grace, wearing each wrinkle in style. The ’82 Fonsalette, a year Jacques Reynaud dumped all the Rayas & Pignan fruit into the Cotes du Rhone label, was mouth-watering & full of damp earth notes, underscored by a ripple of gravelly texture. Better to feel than to taste, as its fruit has atrophied a bit, leaving the midpalate hollow and a touch short.

Moving to the middle of the decade, the ’85 was the first Rayas to show a heartier, dense character, flirting w/ the black fruit end of the spectrum. The wine has good concentration and an outstanding mineral presence, leaving the palate w/ a pebbly impression that reminded me of the prickly texture of a warm day at the beach. The ’88 was top flight, an obvious ripe vintage product, w/ a bouquet of iron, sweet raspberry and kirsch liqueur. A more round, mouth-filling personality nestled in the palate, w/ layers of sweet red fruit wrapping up the gentle finish. The ’90, which Bob said was representative of his most recent experiences, relies on purity over exuberance (which I gather has waned over the years). The warm licorice, sweet berry and spice cake notes are all there, filling out the mouth w/ good weight and excellent drive. While I unfortunately never had the opportunity to taste this legendary vintage at its apex, its character still represents the essence of how sensual a fine Grenache can be.

The tragedy of the afternoon was found in the ’95, which was battered in TCA & relegated to a pile of newspaper excrement. The ’96, my surprise of the tasting, wiped the ‘95s failure off the slate & performed brilliantly. Jacques Reynaud’s last vintage really seems to have come into its own, demonstrating a delicious coat of glycerine-like texture and packing in just about as much flavor into its mid-weight frame as it can handle. It was never overwhelming but always suave and sincere. This type of vinous seduction is more than worth whatever its going rate on the secondary market may be today. The vertical was capped off by the neonatal ’05, which went from strength to strength as it aired. The perfume was pure ambrosia, full of cocoa dust, warm ganache, garrigue and the liqueur of black raspberry fruit. Coy at first, but as I came back to the ’05 it continued to gain length, weight & richness, yet always retained grace and elegance. While I truly enjoyed the ’03 & ‘04, this vintage appears to be Emmanuel’s first masterpiece & is one for the cellar.

A mélange of other bottlings filled out the carousel, and I chose to stick w/ the southern Rhone, sampling an ’00 from my favorite producer, Vieille Julienne. While this just misses the mark of its more recent vintages (namely the ’05, ’06 & ’07), this is a fine example of how excellent their entry level Chateauneuf can be. The ’00 has terrific concentration in its blackberry, cedar and lavender flavored palate, glazed in a layer of silky, impossibly refined tannins. The depth of fruit unfolds on the finish, uncoiling like a snake. Then it was on to Beaucastel, w/ the sweet honeysuckle scents of their ’06 Chateauneuf du Pape blanc calling my name. This is the finest vintage of this cuvee that I’ve sampled, and I imagine it would stand up to many vintages of their singular Roussanne Vieilles Vignes. Expressive and opulent, the roasted nut, fig, citrus oil and floral flavors unfold on the full-bodied palate like a tropical breeze. In spite of the intensity of fruit, the wine has plenty of energy to keep it alive & fresh. The ’06 Chateauneuf du Pape rouge from Beaucastel is also outstanding, and almost in line qualitatively w/ their immense ’05. Dark and big boned, the tree bark, grilled meat & spicy black currant fruit have an impenetrably deep, almost brooding character about themselves. Layered and sinewy, yet the tannins are surprisingly gentle at this stage relative to the raw titan they fashioned in ’05. The final Chateauneuf du Pape of the evening was nothing short of surreal. Clos St. Jean’s ’07 Combe des Fous (a.k.a ‘Spanish Fly’) is fantastically immense, w/ its black forest cake and blueberry fruit almost melting atop the taste buds like warm butter on sweet corn. In typical fashion, this cuvee is suave as well as rich and fresh in spite of its fullness. Clos St. Jean’s ‘07’s are flat out sensory bombs that will push just about any taster’s pleasure gauge well beyond oblivion.

I moved north to the Hermitage hill to sample an ’06 from the master, Jean Louis Chave. While most ’06 Northern Rhone Syrah I’ve had to date are fresh, forward and trim, Chave’s bucks the trend w/ its inky black color and sinewy texture. Its personality is backward, subtly revealing aromatic nuances of black currant sauce, crème de cassis and smoky mocha, yet its presence truly takes hold in the palate. The mouth-feel is best described as sculpted, as if it were carved out of stone. While there’s a thickness to the wine’s concentration, the fresh acidity and firm spine keep everything in symmetry. The Chave white Hermitage was engulfed too quickly for me to enjoy, which is a bummer as its one of my favorite white wines in the world. Further north, I was reminded of one of my favorite smells, the bouquet of a mature Cote Rotie. Jamet’s ’00 has a nose that is as heavenly as they come, akin to waking up to the sizzle of apple wood smoked bacon after a week of fasting. The palate was exemplified by its seamlessness and grace, weaving in spices like cinnamon and clove to the black currant fruit, which washed over the mid-weight frame, leaving a mouth-watering impression on the finish.

The Jamet’s counterpoint was Guigal’s ’03 D’Ampuis Cote Rotie, an effusive, almost lavish take on the appellation w/ its black currant paste, dark olive, bacon fat and sweet toast notes. A delicious initial attack fans out over the palate, offering up a texture that has a certain luxury about it, so much so that I almost felt guilty for drinking it (a la chocolate chip cookies at 3 am). No rough edges and no apologies…damned if I know what lightning they put in that bottle. The cherry on the sundae was a fascinating Italian take on Syrah, a ‘table wine’ from a domaine called Les Cretes (the stalwart producer of the Val D’Aosta region), their ’04 Coteau La Tour. The wine is loaded w/ up front liqueur of blackberry-like fruit, but spiced in a savage, almost beefy cloak, which keeps things interesting. Suave, yet shows good spine, the Les Cretes manages to pull together a great synthesis of fruit w/ earth and should age well over the next decade.

Surprisingly enough, Rhone-based wines have much more flexibility than most wine aficionados give them credit for, and this group mingled very well w/ the varied dim sum dishes put together by Mark’s Duck House. I wasn’t keeping track, but it felt like we put back over a dozen different courses. We survived through them by eating like birds, I a pigeon and the rest, vultures.

Robert Parker is as generous an everyman as I’ve met, and only an everyman to those that know him. He tells his stories of Chateauneuf du Pape freshly, w/ the excitement of a young child on Christmas morning. When my father used to question me if it was possible to transform a passion into a profession w/o bastardizing your love of the thing, I can look to Mr. Parker for a resoundingly affirmative answer. I’d imagine the answer to how he’s done it is a clandestine one, but all the same, I can’t see his giddy enthusiasm expiring before he does.

I enjoyed being in the company of Bob and his friends as much as I could have hoped to. I left them in a bit of a haze, lacking the faculty to draw any substantial conclusion from our afternoon. As I boarded the late afternoon train back to New York I came to appreciate what I’d learned. See I never used to leave D.C. w/ much inspiration to return, save for a hankering for crab cakes. This time was different. I knew that I’d be back and I knew why. In fact I couldn’t wait to board the early train again. After all, 250 miles isn’t very far to go for good dim sum.

Wine Rating
Rayas ’78 91
Rayas ’79 90
Fonsalette ’82 84
Rayas ’85 93
Rayas ’88 94
Rayas ’90 95
Rayas ’95 NR
Rayas ’96 93
Rayas ’05 98
Vieille Julienne ’00 93
Beaucastel Blanc ’06 95
Beaucastel Rouge ’06 94+
Clos St. Jean Combe des Fous ’07 98
Chave Hermitage ’06 95+
Jamet Cote Rotie ’00 92
Guigal D’Ampuis Cote Rotie ’03 97
Les Cretes Coteau La Tour VDT ’04 93

A terrific deal in mature Chateauneuf du Pape

If you've got a few in the cellar, I highly recommend popping one now. If you don't, Crush has it on sale for 30 and change...thievery at its finest.

Roger Sabon Reservee Chateauneuf du Pape '98

This '98 Sabon is an absolute beauty & typifies what potential glories lie w/in moderately aged, mature Chateauneuf. The aromas have taken on tertiary, complex naunces of sou bois, pine resin, date bread, savory plum, mesquite & cinammon spice notes. The texture is fine, as the tannins have melted away into the belly of the palate. The acidity propels a dusty sensation, fleshing out the hearty, dried herb flavors in the mouth to a long, dry finish, 91 points.

Dagueneau, the Taste of an Icon

My relationship w/ wine has yielded very few regrets. In my life, I most closely associate regret w/ things that I didn’t do, as opposed to the stupid things that I’ve tried to do and failed. Chalk ‘em up to experience. Never visiting the World Trade Center comes to mind immediately as regret, and I know that if I dig deeper there’s certain to be a laundry list that I’d prefer not to delve into. In terms of wine, I’d like to think that if I have the desire and direction to do something, I’ll do it. Unfortunately, meeting the irrepressible Didier Dagueneau is no longer a possible aspiration, and that is where regret has found me. I have no tales of the person to share, so all I am left with is the image I get when I taste his wines.

Executive Wine Seminars put together a fabulous tribute tasting for Dagueneau that spanned vintages from the year 2000 through 2006. While I’ve tasted plenty of Didier’s singular Pouilly Fume wines, I’d never sampled his Buisson Renard, Silex and Pur Sang vineyards in juxtaposition. Not only did I jump at the chance to attend, I scoffed at Howard Kaplan’s (of said EWS) suggestion that I’d be more interested in a ’05 Chateauneuf du Pape horizontal. While several producers in Chateauneuf have collectively raised the bar for what Grenache is capable of, how often does one man transcend an appellation and a grape variety?

Onto the wines:

The first flight began w/ a ’00 Silex that immediately stuck out as a product of a botrytis inflicted vintage. One of the deepest golden colored Sauvignon Blancs of the flight, the scents reminded me of dry Sauternes, w/ saffron, bee pollen, honey and wilted flowers filling out the nose. Atypical, yet affable in its palate coating flavors that flowed like a running riverbed over a pebbly surface, ending w/ moderate length. The ’01 Silex was the smokiest, most flinty expression of the cuvee that we’d had all night. The Mosel Riesling like perfume of smoky slate, damp earth and crushed stones turned sinewy in the palate. An enveloping tide of saline, lime candy and macadamia nut flavors rocketed through the cheeks, driving the salivary glands to flood the mouth like tide pools. The consistent theme for the evening on top Dagueneau cuvees was typified in their persistence, and this ’01 was a case and point. This Silex was simply an outrageous tactile experience that has to be tasted to be believed.

We then moved on to the ’02 Pur Sang, which was a different animal altogether. The almost impenetrable mineral core could only be likened to climbing a rock wall w/ your tongue. This was all about raw power, energy and length, yet still left me w/ the feeling that bottle age would further delineate its flavors. Following that up w/ the Silex of the same vintage elucidated how Didier’s wines vary from parcel to parcel. A thick, layered wine, full of glycerin and profound flavors in the shape of peach, honeysuckle, sunflower seed and passion fruit notes. The textures were exotic, as they turned almost chewy in their opulence, yet I slightly preferred the exuberance and verve of the Pur Sang in this particular vintage. The flight was capped off w/ a ’95 Silex, which showed its age. Tiring, w/ oxidized characteristics buffered by a nutty, creamed corn like element in the nose. In spite of the advancement demonstrated by the nose, the palate still had an extra gear left, typified by an electric kick that kept the finish alive.

The group of ‘03s would have been fascinating to taste, considering the irregularities of the vintage, yet the EWS team was hijacked at the last minute, baited and switched w/ additional bottles of the ‘05s (which we happily drank anyway). The ’04 Pouilly Fume has significantly deteriorated and continued to falter as it aired. The classic oyster shell and lean lemon flavors were still evident, yet its skeletal frame had given way to age. The ’04 Buisson Renard was a fresh, rip-roaring malic acid bomb, w/ a Chenin Blanc like nose of green tea, baked apple, hay and sea breeze notes. The texture of a green apple peel was almost palpable in the mouth, as its tingling acidity carried the mineral-laced flavors to a mouth watering close. In relationship to the previous two bottles, one can’t understate the qualitative jump made by the Pur Sang and Silex cuvees. Both were outrageously complex in spite of how lean ’04 was as a vintage, but the Pur Sang’s poise and focus ended up winning me over. The brightness of the fruit took hold in the mouth, incrementally building and expanding from cheek to cheek, yet it is still in its infancy & its flavors remained relatively unformed. The Silex served as the yin to the Pur Sang’s yang, w/ its idiosyncratic array of white pepper, musky tobacco and white currant flavors coming at you in an unbridled display. While wild and singular, I felt it lacked the relentless tenacity of the Pur Sang in this particular vintage.

The 2005’s had a bit better pedigree, as even the Pouilly Fume shone through w/ its snappy pepper, citrus and stone fruit flavors, beaming through the rock solid finish. The Buisson Renard was simply effusive, w/ its ostentatious perfume carrying along to the richness of the palate. Relative to the ’04, the ’05 Renard demonstrates more depth, intensity and persistence. My perception of Didier’s top cuvees shifted in ’05, as I found the Silex not only to be the better of the two, but the best of the show. The nose was absolutely hypnotic, as its kinky layered nose came at me in waves of quince, unsalted butter, chive and honeysuckle. There is an immediately powerful impression on the attack, revealing uncanny size and scope as it moves through the mouth. While the texture is so generous it borders on unctuous, the underlying vibrancy and reserve wraps the entire piece together. While I find it instantly compelling, its elements almost dizzy the senses and it may be prudent to cellar over the short term. The Pur Sang served as more of a classical interlude to the Silex’s crescendo, washing over the palate like a rising tide to the shore. The wine struck me as a visceral experience that comes off better in poetry than any feigned attempt at describing particular flavors. Its only flaw was that it was tasted alongside the Silex of the same vintage.

We unfortunately finished things off w/ the 2006 vintage and I found it aloof by comparison to the rest of the bunch. The Pur Sang shuffled through some Viognier-like tones of golden flower and sweet peach, seemingly spruced up w/ a touch of residual sugar. The Silex, although unique, also failed to truly compel as I found its macadamia nut, lychee and hummus notes to be confused in their creamy, almost gelatinous textures that obscured any mineral definition. While neither wine was poor, they lacked varietal recognition and came off as blowzy compared to their older siblings. Whether or not this is a matter of vintage, raw age or stacked competition is difficult to say, but to be fair, ’06 was not without its fans.

Didier’s ’04 Jardin de Babylone capped off the evening w/ its tasty notes of brown sugar, over-ripe banana, papaya and apple peel. Thick, yet fresh in the mouth, w/ a nice sense of drive keeping the flavors defined to the finish.

I left the tasting w/ a few thoughts & questions regarding the tasting and the group’s discussion:

· Each vintage shone through the wines transparently. Whether or not you appreciated the botrytis of ’00, the angularity of ’04 or the exoticism seen in the ‘06s is up for debate, but Dagueneau never tried to mask the weather.
· I like the Pur Sang Vineyard better than the Silex.
· I like the Silex Vineyard better than the Pur Sang.
· See point one for further clarification on points 2 and 3.
· I can’t emphasize enough what remarkable feats these are for dry white wine. The definition of the variety is forced to become an evolving document because of Didier’s wines.
· It is tough to summarize the ‘house style’ as each wine takes different shape from the next. That being said, I think it is fair to say that most of them have a sort of enveloping severity to them that is almost indescribable. There are some classic elements of Pouilly Fume, some white Bordeaux & some sauvage…they are a powerful ballerina w/ a razor sharp shave.
· Do any other Sauvignon Blancs remind you of Didier’s?
· Do any other Pouilly Fumes remind you of Didier’s?
· If the answer to the previous two points is no, then we can’t complain about the price, because there is no comparison. If the answer is yes, I’d love a bottle.
· Who in the wine world (old or new) has reshaped your vision as to what a varietal and/or appellation is capable of?

Wine Rating
’00 Silex 89
’01 Silex 95
’02 Pur Sang 95+
’02 Silex 94
’95 Silex 76
’04 Pouilly Fume 71
’04 Buisson Renard 91
’04 Pur Sang 96
’04 Silex 95
’05 Pouilly Fume 92
’05 Buisson Renard 93+
’05 Pur Sang 95
’05 Silex 98
’06 Pur Sang 90+
’06 Silex 91+
’04 Jardin de Babylone 89