All hail the King

Posted on | November 30, 2008

King Angry recently welcomed a few of us to his home for an evening centered around Bollinger. It was a Monday night, but soon enough everyone was acting like it was Friday. Before all was said and done we had sampled thirty wines in all, par for the course at an evening chez Ray. With so many wines tasted, I am just going to cut right to the chase.

We started with a 1964 Bollinger RD magnum, disgorged in the mid-80s. It had a yeasty nose with light orange blossom, minerals and light mesquite. It was a touch musty in the mouth at first, very dry and linear. There was still nice sprite and decent straw flavors, but most were unimpressed. It got a ‘sweaty’ from Brad, it was definitely corked and an ‘ehhh’ overall (88A-M).

We got to the controversy early with the evening’s second bubbly. I should note that the King always does his hosted tastings blind, so everyone can make an ass of himself and be relegated to the King’s stable, where God knows what happens lol. There was this wild truffle pudding sweetness to the nose, flirting with a butterscotch. Its flavors tasted almost spiked with something absinthe or de menthe. Something and cinnamon joined the party, but the overall palate gave a minty and medicinal impression, and it was very fresh. Brad said that he ‘never had a nose like this before,’ while Big Boy found it ‘outta this world.’ Everyone was all over the truffles in the nose. People were guessing ‘60s or ‘70s, and then the guessing went all over the map, and no one thought this was a 1923 Bollinger. Even after people knew, some still didn’t think it was :). I haven’t seen too many fake Champagnes in my life, but have seen a handful, and its crazy nose and sickly flavors had to make you wonder, but I couldn’t say one way or another definitively. Airplane Eddie found the nose ‘still mind-blowing’ thirty minutes later (93).

The third bubbly had a more mature nose and was seemingly more advanced than the previous two. There was more baked bread and yeast, as well as petal aromas. The palate was round and wine-like, and I have definitely had better bottles of 1929 Bollinger, seeing that I have had a near-perfect, 98-point one before. The palate was easy and tender, soft and with morning mouth flavors (91A).

The next bubbly also had the truffle oil thing going on, big-time. There was also a hint of floral, sweet, lavender-ish something. Brioche toast aromas rounded out the nose. The palate was delicious, long and balanced, still with a touch of sprite. The palate also had coffee flavors, and its touch of petillance tickled my fancy, as did kisses of white chocolate and sugar. Big Boy declared that we were in 6-star territory. It was a 1900 Heidseick Monopole. Hell yeah (97).

We were starting to heat up, as the next bubbly was also very complex. The 1949 Bollinger had aromas of honey, acacia and edges of minerals and botani ebi sweet shrimp were enveloped in its sweet, floral and decadent style. It was lightly toasty. Its palate was mature, full of caramel and orange flavors, with just a touch of sprite left. Someone noted that it was ‘in a perfect place, mature but just enough acid.’ Its finish was lengthy and dry, and its spriteliness actually picked up in the glass; this was a long, intense and dry wine that still left a fine impression - it still had elegance and delicacy. There were great honeycomb flavors, and this stony, minerally, creamy beauty won’t get any better, but it won’t necessarily get worse for a bit, either. Yum (96).

Another odd bottle was next, and it was a 1961 Salon. ‘Sea dock,’ was the first thing I noted. Bob concurred with ‘barnacles.’ It was tough to get past that, but it did blow off, and a little vanilla cream came through. The palate was round with flavors of minerals and citrus. There was good sprite here, a lean sweetness and a smokehouse edge. The sea dock blew off, and it was very fresh overall, but the King and Big Boy both acknowledged that the bottle was disappointing given what it was. Todd noted ‘apples’ (93).

We were back to Bollinger again, and the 1961 Bollinger was outstanding. There was a bit of sweaty armpit in a nice way, along with shellfish shell – there was this great musky, seared scallop thing happening. The palate had excellent definition, with fresh and lively citrus and vanilla flavors. It was leaning on the dry side with a pinch of sweetness, and had great lime flavors (95).

The next one was even better, also fresh, clean, sugary, edgy, floral and sexy. Its nose was also white meaty. There were decadent oil flavors, and a smoked, outdoor grill style to its flavors. Sweeter and more sugary than the 1961, the 1966 Bollinger was great. A ’66 versus ’61 debate broke out, and Dr. Conti was in the ’61 camp, but conceded the ’66 was better now. Eddie preferred the ‘66 (96).

It was time for some red wine, and the first was Burgundy, of course. It had a fabulous Burgundy nose, sweet and tangy, full of hedonistic and musky fruit. Vibrant black cherry, gamy Burgundy essence permeated the nose and palate. Menthol was also all over the palate, and there were round, tea-like flavors, as in the Emperor’s tea. There were also beef bouillon and oil flavors and unreal garden goodness in this spectacular 1969 Rousseau Chambertin Clos de Beze (97).

The next wine was also a Clos de Beze, this time being a 1976 Drouhin Chambertin Clos de Beze. Its nose was much more coy, tight and shy, with an oatmeal nose, along with rose and black chocolate. The palate was citrusy and dry with nice tannins. Clean and clear, it left a very good impression but was tough after the Rousseau (91).

Unfortunately, the 1976 Drouhin Musigny was oxidized (DQ).

It was back to Champagne, and the mini-streak of bad luck continued with a corked bottle of 1970 Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Francaises. What a shame. There is no doubt that this bottle would have been in the 95+ category if it hadn’t been corked, but there was too much cork to deal at this stage (DQ).

Lucky number thirteen was a 1975 Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Francaises. Its nose was sweaty, with good animal aromas. It had a nice edge to its very, very dry personality. Strawberry flavors emerged, but overall it was too dry. It did have nice length, and hints of unsweetened marzipan emerged. The sushi brought some life out of it and some bready goodness, but I wanted more from it (92).

The 1979 Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Francaises finally lived up to its reputation. As Eddie succinctly put it, ‘Now that’s an f’in wine – really good mousse.’ Big Boy hailed it as ‘great.’ Its nose was incredible – sweet and wide with the bread and meat of a perfect calzone, made with whole wheat and grilled. There was also this ginger snap edge to the ’79, whose crazy complexity and razor-like greatness combined for an intensity unmatched by any other Champagne on this evening. Bready, yeasty edgy, long and full of straw flavors, it continued to get better you better you bet (97).

The next bubbly was very oaky, over the top with its oaky, baked oak. The palate was so thick and meaty, though, it made me want to forgive. Its texture and length were monumental, but the oak was tough to get past. So damn thick but too damn oaky are pretty much the remainder of my notes on this 1979 Krug Clos du Mesnil (95+?).

The VVF’s continued with a 1980 Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Francaises, which was dusty, almost spicy in a wintry way. There were nice vanilla notes, but also a hint of alley in the morning, freshly hosed. Nice freshness, nice sprite and nice length made up for a nice wine, simple but nice. I guess it was the vintage (91).

The 1981 Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Francaises was a bit rubbery at first, Eddie was liking it, but Big Boy found it ‘good but a little empty.’ It opened up to reveal honey, marmalade and quince aromas and flavors, with the flavors adding an orange hue to the overall picture. It kept getting better and better. Big Boy then confessed that he was smoking crack, and a lifelong addict lol (95+).

The 1982 Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Francaises was peculiar, with a rubber tire nose and a rubber tire, super dry palate. It tasted like it should be great, but just wasn’t (92+?).

Eddie pulled a couple wines out of his bag to break up the Champagne, and it was perfect timing. The first had an intoxicating nose that was smoky, sweet and sappy. Aromas of mesquite and a wood-burning grill along with an exotic perfume graced its nose. There were also great forest and cedar nuances in its fantastic nose. The palate was super – balanced, long and with great stalk and good earth flavors. It was evidently good real estate, and this 1964 DRC Richebourg got oilier and sweeter (95).

The next red courtesy of Eddie had an earthy, gamy nose that had great meat to it. The flavors were more tender with sour cherry notes along with carob and citrus. The menthol and mesquite were admirable, but it was soft in the mouth overall, still excellent. It was a 1969 DRC La Tache, which some preferred to the ‘64. I just felt like saying, ‘Eddieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee’ (93).

The 1991 Rousseau Chambertin Clos de Beze had a spiny edge with great spice and an easy personality. Meat and blood spilled out of the glass (93).

It was back to Champagne with a great nose, spritely, fresh and special with white meats and fruits. Tangy and citrusy in the mouth, this 1985 Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Francaises was sexy juice (95).

The 1986 Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Francaises was taut and citrusy, with a great centerpoint, and corn and butter flavors in a margarine way (93).

Words were starting to allude me as we neared wine number twenty-five, as you can see by my concise notes. The trend continued, as my notes for the 1989 Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Francaises read, ‘bready, toasty, corny…so fresh and young…super fresh…super young fresh.’ I think that about sums it up, other than the fact that the ’89 was a monster, one of the wines of the night, just so young and wound that I felt we were disturbing it (97).

We ventured into Bordeaux with a gravelly and smoky nose full of rich tobacco and meat aromas. Cassis, caramel and dank, dark fruit also emerged. Edgy and delicious came to mind as I sampled its rich tobacco flavors. It was round and tasty, balanced like well-managed bank accounts. Are there any of those left out there? Some tootsie pop flavors signified Pomerol, and it was an outstanding bottle of 1947 Latour a Pomerol (95).

The 1945 La Mission Haut Brion showed lots more animal and barn, very gamy and earthy, but softer overall. It did gain in the glass to reveal more game, hay, earth and animal, but was still shy in the company of the Latour a Pomerol (93+).

We had another incredible Burgundy that was meaty and gamy with rose, oil, iron, animal and animal fat. Rich, meaty, delicious was all that was needed to describe the “19?? Je ne sais quoi.” Sorry, I forgot to write down what it was, and was waiting on an update there from the King as of press time…it was (95), whatever it was :).

The 1964 DRC Romanee Conti was also great. I even conceded the notes were over, but ‘this is the shit.’ It also got a ‘yum yum deeeelish.’ It was party-time (95+).

Well, I thought the notes were over, but the next wine gave me one last surge of strength and invigorated me. ‘Killerrrr,’ was how the note began, with a few more r’s in there. ‘Wowowow,’ was next. Smelling this wine was like walking into a royal garden, full of intensity and energy. Despite being so old, it still had remarkable acidity and great richness. Its intensity and spice were noteworthy. I couldn’t even drink the ’45 La Mission after having one sip of the 1906 La Tache. It was an earth-shaker (97).

There were a couple more bottles, a 1952 Bouchard Musigny (91) and a 1969 Marey-Monge (DRC) Romanee St. Vivant (93), but the night truly ended with the 1906. What a wine, and what a night. Since the King’s secret hideaway is basically on the West Virginia border, a flock of Manhattanhites including me flew out of there in a hurry, as it was really late already. Not much was said on the trip back except ‘Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.’

FIN

JK

Holiday Cheer

Posted on | November 28, 2008

Last night, New York City’s wine version of the Usual Suspects got together at a secret location to drink and be merry. A kickoff to the holiday season, it all started so innocently, with Bad Boy Bruce checking in with the King, and then it quickly blossomed into something that everyone could fit into their schedule. I happily sampled generous portions of seventeen wines in all, including a grandest of a finale. Many were magnums, and I was glad not to see the usual 25-30 wines since it was only Tuesday, after all.

Champagne dominated the evening, as many Bubblephiles were in the house. Consider me one of them. It was also a Clos des Goisses first quarter, with four magnums going back that spanned a quarter-century. We began with the 1976.

The 1976 Philipponat Clos des Goisses was disgorged in March 2002. All the Clos des Goisses we had were late disgorgements, and done very well. There was great toast in the ‘76’s nose, with a touch of Flintstone vitamins, more bread and ultimately caramel and quince. It was delightfully complex in the nose, but the palate could not keep pace. While smooth and fresh, the ’76 was also simple, solid and easy to appreciate but not as great as I was hoping. Gamy quince and wheat flavors rounded out this very good magnum (92M).

The 1966 Philipponat Clos des Goisses was grassier in its first impression, with similar cracked wheat and now rye crisp aromas. Jo observed its ‘nice mushroomy quality.’ The ’66 was much fuller-bodied, displaying more definition and flavors than the ’76. Much more. There was also great length to this superb Champagne. Edges of white chocolate danced in and out, and its great, earthy finish displayed some dirty goodness. The ’66 was disgorged in November of 2000. He shoots, he scores (95M).

We had a red wine intermezzo, a good thing when a magnum of 1971 Vogue Bonnes Mares. There were nice aromatics, with game, cherry, truffles, earth, bitters and a touch of limy kink to its citric sides. Round, tender, smooth yet still vigorous, it was a nice magnum but I wanted a little more from it (93M).

A small debate began after the 1964 Philipponat Clos des Goisses was served, that being 1964 vs 1966, both specifically and in general. While specifically could have gone either way, in general the answer is 1966, which is not to take away from 1964. The ’64 was disgorged in November 2004 and was very clean with aromas of straw, hay, earth, grass and game. The grass and game really came out on the flavors, along with wild garden ones. Nice acidity and length played right into its ‘stonier’ personality. Elegant, easy, classy and long, the 1964 had everything going for it, but I did prefer the 1966. King Angry and Big Boy were leaning towards the ’64 (94M).

The 1953 Philipponat Clos des Goisses was the finest of our four magnums of Goisses. Its nose was full of wafers with a vanilla sex appeal and drops of honey. Wendy, aka the Angry Chick, cooed, ‘this is why we drink Champagne.’ There was this Wheaties goodness about the ’53, as if health benefits could be derived from drinking it. Its acidity was great, the greatest so far, and its vivacious citrus flavors were impressive. The ’53 stayed light on its feet, in an Ali way (96M).

Time for another red, this time a magnum of 1964 Clair Dau Bonnes Mares. The magnum of Clair Dau had a spectacular nose, dripping with sweet, decadent cherry fruit along with animal, olive, forest and mint. Jo called it ‘sensational.’ Its sweetness became nutty and meaty. The palate possessed flavors of oatmeal, brown sugar, iron and meat on the grill juice. It was round, tasty and sexy, plentiful and flirting with outstanding territory, but ultimately softening like the beginning of a setting sun. The Vogue was more silky and satiny, but the Clair Dau made one think more (94+M).

A magnum of 1975 Bollinger RD was super sweet in its aromatics with a candy corn-like complexity. Thick, lush, creamy and sweet, the Bolly had a good finish and was a better show than many expected. There was nice sprite to its personality and tasty sasparilla flavors. The ’75 still had good bones (93M).

I noted how times must be tough, because it was 10:45pm and we had only had seven wines. In 2007, we would have been up to twenty by now lol. Big Boy then made his own version of social commentary when he relayed that someone told him this past week that he looked like a million bucks, to which he replied, ‘My friend, times are bad, but they’re not that bad.’

And they were not, as next up was a killer bottle of 1990 Ponsot Clos de la Roche V.V. courtesy of the Duke. The Ponsot was spot on, with an incredible and concentrated nose of crushed black and blue fruits. It was menthol city, with delicious mint chocolate flavors and a monstrous personality. Crazy thick and rich, the Ponsot also had an explosive finish that said, ‘see me in 2030’ (97+).

A magnum of original 1961 Bollinger was a touch advanced, very wine-like with wood notes. The palate was honeyed, nutty, round and buttery with apple edges. It was excellent, but should have been better and had lost most of its fizz (93A-M).

A magnum of 1964 Ayala was ‘diesely’ per Airplane Eddie, and very fresh as it was recently disgorged. Rich, vitamin and hearty, the ’64 was excellent but quickly an afterthought (93M).

A very rare bottle of 1966 Billecart Salmon Blanc de Blancs had a stony nose, quite hearty and sturdy with descriptors such as long, big, powerful, ‘heft’ (Patman), rich and killerrr. Its flavors were rich and full of vanilla, delicious despite a woodsy streak. Its full-bodied sweetness was most impressive (95).

The Billecart was followed by another, this time the 1966 Billecart Salmon Cuvee Nicolas Francois. The color was a bit dark, so there was some initial trepidation, but the N.F. was outstanding. Aromas of marshmallow, caramel and diesel all came from the crowd. Flavors of anise and honeypot graced this rich, thick and long Champagne, which displayed nectar-like qualities. It was lip-smackingly good with a huge finish, displaying ‘far more muscle’ per Bob. Additional flavors of white chocolate rounded out this killer Champagne (95+).

The 1966 Krug quickly bumped the Billecarts to the back. It was a perfect bottle. ‘Far and away the best,’ seemed to be an initial consensus. It had the signature, old Krug vanilla cream sex appeal, and its structure was nothing less than incredible. Even Eddie gave it a ‘quite good,’ which really means something coming from Eddie! Gentleman Jim appreciated its ‘youthful’ nature, and this serious Champagne had so much power it was flirting with being out of control. Its searing intensity called everyone to attention, and its long, spiny and crushing personality dominated the room. White berry and white truffle flavors developed. Big boy hailed, ‘there’s this and then everything else,’ in a way which made it sound like Old Milwaukee lol, but it certainly was the truth (98).

A 1966 Salon was a worthy follow-up to the Krug, with its big, saucy nose. I wrote ‘rich’ three times in my notes, and it also had vanilla, butter and cream components. ‘Awesome, long, creamy and rich,’ (make that four times). That about summed it up at this point (96).

Somehow, a 1976 Taittinger Comtes de Champagne slipped into the mix before the grand finale. It had been rated 99 points by Richard Juhlin apparently, but this bottle was not that one. It did have the signature C de C butterscotch aromas. Rich, buttery and all-around excellent, it just wasn’’t spectacular (94).

Actually, there was another bubbly before the grand finale, a 1921 Moet. The Moet had a sweet nose, like a sugar stick, but also with the vanilla cream. It was wine-like but still buttery and rich, tasty and delicious, round and lush (93).

Last and certainly not least was a spectacular bottle of 1923 DRC Romanee Conti. It was everything one could hope for from a great, old Conti. The haunting bouquet of old, wilting roses, grilled meat, old book, Worcestershire, leather, tender cherry fruit, animal…the nose kept going and going, literally haunting the whole room. It still had tremendous concentration and noticeable acidity that was strong enough to carry the kaleidoscopic spectrum of aromas and flavors. It was well worth the extra hour Big Boy made us wait for it as he lectured the night away (98).

I had to run for the hills. I think it was already after 1:30AM.

I would like to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving. If you read this far, then I know you will be drinking some good stuff

May all your wines be memorable.

FIN

JK

1995 vs 1996 Bordeaux

Posted on | October 29, 2008

My recent trip to Asia before my next trip to Asia (in two weeks) found me in Korea, and as I usually find myself, surrounded by a significant quantity of fine wines. This particular evening was all about Bordeaux, 1995 vs. 1996 First Growths, to be exact. It was a great mix of people, mainly young professionals very eager to taste these distinguished wines, and very eager for Korea to lower its somewhat prohibitive tax on wine.

We started with the Haut Brions, and the 1996 Haut Brion had a fresh, waxy nose, spiny and full of cassis, tobacco and nut, but wax was the dominant aroma. A pinch of green bean and a hint of chocolate rounded out the nose. The palate had lots of tobacco flavors with a hint of banana split, very dry but lighter than I expected. There were nice cherry traces on its finish, and solid earthy flavors. Its acidity was also solid, but the body was definitely light and its dryness a bit out of balance. It was still excellent, a clean and jerk type of wine, still with upside potential but definitely not an elite Haut Brion (93+).

The 1995 Haut Brion was much more cotton-candied in its nose, sweet and fragrant with a touch of pruny goodness. There was also wax, and earth and dust joined the party. The palate was more balanced, also with tobacco flavors and an earthy dryness, but better balanced with its cherry fruit and gamy flavors. At first, I preferred the 1995, but ultimately gave a slight edge to the 1996. It would be a recurring theme (93).

The 1996 Latour had a much deeper nose than either of the Haut Brions, brooding but also a bit horsey at first. There were pencil and black fruits behind that and a touch of toll house. The palate was big yet refined, with laser-like acidity yet still full of finesse. There were nice chalky flavors on its finish, along with animal and tobacco flavors. Someone with their Palm Parker out hailed it as ‘near-perfect’ lol. It got szechuany in the nose, losing its animal and green edges to become just what Goldilocks ordered (96+).

The 1995 Latour was rounder and more honeyed in its nose, with touches of cola and a hint of syrupy sweetness. It was perfumed in an angel food cake way. The palate was sturdy and rugged, also leathery and big overall. There were stewed flavors of black cherry and cola, and its stewed qualities were those of beefy goodness. However, the 1995 did lose a step in the glass compared to the 1996 (94).

The 1996 Mouton Rothschild was spiny and waxy, a la the Haut Brion. There was also plenty of cassis, or this black, perfumed fruit. ‘Chocopuffy’ was a new word that came to mind. Carob and caramel were also here in a ‘Milky Way’ way. The palate was very spiny and waxy as well; the acidity really stood out. Excellent flavors of cassis, dry blueberry, earth and leather were complemented by a hint of green. The wine stayed spiny, but it also got greener (94+).

The 1995 Mouton Rothschild was a bit Caliesque like a great Screamer. It was rich, lush and creamy with nice spice and exotic truffles and candied something. Powder also came to mind. There were delicious coffee flavors with the griiind, and the palate was rich upfront but soft on the backside. There were excellent flavors with nice roasted edges. I finally wrote that 1995s were better now, but that 1996s were better long term, although the Mouton ended up being a dead heat (94+).

The 1996 Lafite Rothschild left no doubt as to who was in charge, at least up until now. It was a lean, mean fighting machine! It was waxy and spiny like the other 1996s, but also elegant city. There was pungent anise to go with emerging cassis and nut aromas. Lit kindling and cedar joined the party in secondary fashion. The palate was super rich – finally a 1996 with upfront density! It was not only rich, but also big and thick in the mouth, and its acidity was clearly the best of the bunch, so fine yet so sharp, as in ‘on point.’ There were green flashes like lantern, and its finish was precise, linear and singular in its greatness (97+).

The 1995 Lafite Rothschild had a tough act to follow. Its nose was one of baked chocolate croissant and deep cassis and plum. It still had a meaty nose, full of iron and more chocolate, yet it still retained a perfumed-like elegance. The palate was softer and more caressing, and the finish left a soft impression as well. The 1995 was a bit ‘lite,’ especially after the 1996, dry and a touch out of balance like the Haut Brion, still excellent but not as special after the 1996 (93).

Our last pair was Margaux, beginning with the 1996 Margaux. The Margaux nose was super sexy, jumping out of the glass with its candied edge, almost like a root beer float without the root beer. Make that an ice cream soda, that’s what it was, black ‘n white with a little egg cream. The nose was toasty, spicy and spiny, full of coffee, nut and leather aromas, with enough t ‘n a for an S & M dungeon. The palate was thick and long with great acidity, and flavor and aromas of beef bouillon complicated matters in this complex wine (97).

The 1995 Margaux was the best 1995 with its honeyed and caramel nose that was rich, meaty and sexy. A whiff of wood, mainly cedar, rounded it out. The palate was full of roasted cassis flavors and length. Interestingly enough, the 1995 was already throwing a ton of sediment (95).

It was back to the USA, where I would be quite busy at night for the next couple weeks…

FIN

JK

Wolfgang in Hong Kong

Posted on | October 29, 2008

This past week saw Wolfgang and I in Hong Kong together for a very special dinner celebrating his auction and cellar. It was a most extraordinary testament to a most extraordinary cellar. Amidst all the financial turmoil of the week, the dinner at Robuchon transported us to a place far, far away, about as close to wine heaven as one could hope. Every bottle, shipped from Europe to America and then to Hong Kong, was in ideal condition and showing phenomenally. It really does not get any better, and for this we had Wolfgang and his four decades of collecting to thank.

We started with a couple of bottles of 1988 Krug Clos du Mesnil. I didn’t have much time to take notes, as I was meeting and greeting everyone as they arrived. I kept insisting how wine is one of the better investments out there, especially now – it won’t become worthless overnight, and at least you can always drink it! The Krug had a fresh, baked bread nose with aromas of anise and a twist of lemon. It was intense and full of spice. It was also rich and meaty in the mouth, with hints of wood flavors and great citrus tang. I don’t think I have ever rated a Clos du Mesnil, Champagne’s vineyard equivalent of Romanee Conti, less than 95 points, and I wasn’t about to start now (95)!

A trio of whites was next, beginning with a sexy 2000 Coche-Dury Meursault Perrieres. Clean and fresh, it had that distinctive Coche nut/kernel kink along with baked, buttered corn aromas. There was also a touch of milk in its long, aromatic profile. It tasted great too, rich and round with superb acidity and lots of butter and mineral flavors. There was great toast and a rocky definition to its finish. Everyone admired its ‘minerality,’ although it lost a step over time rather than gaining, curiously enough (95).

We time-traveled back to a 1982 Lafon Meursault Perrieres. Obviously, the Lafon was much more mature but still fresh, displaying more of a yeasty, mature, buttered biscuit of a nose. Touches of wood, game and lit match were also present. It was rich, long, buttery and woodsy on the palate, mature but still solid and possessing nice grip on the finish, and a thickness not present in the Coche. Secondary aromas of marzipan, forest, seashell and almost scallop (no scallop served, by the way) joined secondary flavors of forest and wood (great ones, I might add). The Lafon held well, and while the Coche lost a point for me, the Lafon added one (94).

A magnum of 1986 Domaine de la Romanee Conti was our third and final white. It was an interesting contrast, the two Perrieres versus Montrachet, almost a handicap match that would make Vince McMahon proud. In the end, the big, bad Montrachet showed why it was still the king of the hill. It kept gaining and gaining and gaining, lasting well into the evening. Its nose was very exotic at first, showing off that ’86 botrytis, along with this saucy Asian sweet plum sex appeal. There is ‘huge potential still,’ admired one of our guests. Yeast, cobwebs and hints of tropical orange were also there. The palate was round and rich, also incredibly tropical with exotic honey, guava and orange marmelade flavors. Its acidity was holding on quite well, which many ‘86s cannot still say, and while it seemed to be plateau-ing, it also seemed to be capable of being there for a while, a sentiment that would get stronger as the night went on. There was great texture in this rich, long, round, gentle giant. A tomato dish really brought out its acidity more, along with exotic tea-like flavors and cement, the type of cement in a brand new, mint apartment building. Two hours later, it was still going strong (96M).

It was time for some reds, and we got right to the point with a 1947 Trotanoy. ‘Wow,’ started my notes. ‘Classic,’ was next. Aromas of rich, ripe plums, chocolate, raisins, citrus and mahogany were stratospheric in their presence. There was also a balancing pungent, rocky minerality after all these years. The palate was so round and lush it reminded me of what it must be like for a child to have ice cream for the first time. It was so chocolaty, so raisiny in that mature yet still healthy way. Its finish was chalky and stony, displaying superb acidity and a great minerality. There was almost a hint of apricot in this exotic red. Sweet and tender yet sturdy and strong, there was no doubt that this was hallowed ground, both 1947 and Trotanoy itself, which seems to be the forgotten great Pomerol (97).

The 1964 Petrus held its own against the Trotanoy. It was darker, thicker and firmer, nutty and even sturdier, possessing aromas of caramel, thick cassis, plum and more black fruits with a pinch of cocoa. The palate was fantastic, rich, thick – did I mention fantastic – I wrote it twice; it was that good. ‘Unstoppably good,’ I continued, as I could not stop drinking each of these two Pomerols. Stony, edgy, long, fine, earthy, hearty, rugged yet smooth – that about summed it up. Old wine, people, that is what it is all about (96).

A trio of Bordeaux was our next flight, beginning with a magnum of 1986 Le Pin. Even though the Le Pin had been open and decanted for two hours, it was still tight; there is ’86 for you. Its nose seeped deep, deep purple fruit, sweet plum and cassis, as well as garden and sexy Pomerol cream. Its flavors were chocolaty and super stony, the whip of those 1986 tannins showing strongly, and its acidity remarkable. This was a big wine with big flavors and a nice edge, so chocolaty that ‘yum’ was appropriate, and green beans joined the party, in a good way. 1986 is one of those years where some Pomerols hit it on the head too, probably only to be recognized many years down the road like 1952 (95M).

A 1982 Latour was a nice reference point, and about as good a bottle of it as I have ever had. Could I have expected anything less from Wolf? Classic aromas of walnut, cedar and spice slowly oozed out of the glass. Its length was noticeable right away aromatically. It was much nuttier than the Le Pin, both in the nose and in the mouth, where caramel, mineral and walnut flavors danced. The wine was very long and very fine, possessing that hallmark ’82 elegance and class yet still brooding like a Latour. It was stylish and so elegant, elegant like a hammer kissing a nail softly. Coffee flavors rounded out this special bottle (97).

Our last Bordeaux on this night was a 1975 Lafleur. Surprisingly ripe, the ’75 was much more open than I last remembered it. This bottle had the signature, kinky kirsch and black cherry jam aroma of mature Lafleur, extremely ripe and juicy in its fruit. The palate was thick and sturdy, spiny and possessing the best t ‘n a profile so far. If other wines were big, this wine was a monster. Thick and ripe, with additional flavors of black olives and earthy rust, the ’75 Lafleur was gamy, juicy and kinky, everything it was supposed to be. This evening was turning into a textbook night (97+).

Ahhhhh, Burgundy. The 1985 Ponsot Clos de la Roche V.V. just shattered every memory that I have had of this wine and immediately catapulted itself into the best ever category. It was ‘so aromatic, so pungent, so gamy…’ So? Incredibly ripe, there were sweet redcurrant and cranberry fruit aromas, along with great spice. On the palate, it was ‘so rich, so hearty, so acidic…’ So? Acidic as in great acidity, not heartburn, although the Ponsot did make my heart race! There was a rich, cranberry goodness to the flavor profile with a kinky raspberry twist. Monstrous and off the charts, this was a ‘wow’ wine, and probably the best bottle of Ponsot ever made (98+).

As good as the 1979 Henri Jayer Vosne Romanee Cros Parantoux was, the Ponsot made it difficult to notice. The Jayer had this herbal edge like pellet-ized grain. It was rich, sweet, round and gamy with cherry and vitamin flavors, but I think it would have showed much better had it been served first. Oops (93).

The last flight of Burgundy was a fitting closer, beginning with a stellar 1966 DRC Richebourg. Aromas of vitamins, spice, spine, roses and cherry spilled out of the glass like beautiful body parts out of a designer dress. The palate was rich and hearty, full of acid, instantly achieving check plus plus plus status. Flavors of vitamin, citrus, rose, light leather and carob made it lip-smackingly good, along with touches of forest floor and animal cage. I was seduced by the Richebourg and left begging for more (96).

A magnum of 1966 Romanee Conti was next. Yes, magnum. There was more animal in the nose than in the Richebourg. The RC was darker and beefier yet reticent with hints of bouillon. It was an intense ‘stonewall’ of a wine, very gamy and hearty on the palate with flavors of rose, rich meat and minerals. It stayed hearty and improved, displaying more thickness and the directions to iodine city. While the Richebourg may have had more finesse and caresse, the RC made its point loud and clear (97M).

While that would have been a fitting ending, there were still two wines to go. The 1949 Leroy Richebourg was gamy and pungent, with even more animal and black fruits. It had a Lafite-like cedary edge as well. Long and rich, there were nutty flavors and nice citric spice on its earthy finish. It was the big yet square, make that squarer (94).

The 1983 De Fargues was an afterthought, but still excellent. Cotton candy city, rich, sweet, smooth, practically as good as Yquem…that’s about all I had left in me (93).

What a night. What a cellar. The economy will be just fine sooner or later, but there will be no cellar of Wolfgang Grunewald again.

FIN

JK

Happy Birthday Hans Jorg

Posted on | October 10, 2008

A week after packing up Wolf’s cellar – at least what he parted with, I should say – I was back in Switzerland for a most special dinner hosted by one of Wolf’s dearest friends. It was a belated 60th birthday party for Hans Jorg (born in 1947), but I don’t think anyone minded much that it was a year late after being treated to an extraordinary lineup. When it comes to Wolf and his wine-drinking friends, apples do not fall far from the tree!

We started with a welcome 1998 Billecart Salmon Cuvee Nicolas Francois. It had a warm, inviting nose full of mature, yeasty notes, bright yellow sun-baked fruits and perfect toast. The palate was rich, creamy, spritely and delicious, full of vanilla and citrus flavors, and I was quite impressed given it was a 1998. There wasn’t the weight there of a truly great vintage, and its acidity was quite civilized, but it should provide excellent and earlier drinking pleasure for a while still (93).

We sat down to the first ‘official’ wine of the night, which was also a bubbly. There was only one rule for the night – everyone must drink everything! A deep gold color and very slight petillance had every one guessing which 1947 Champagne it was. There was just a bubble here and a bubble there. Its pungent nose had lots of vanilla, almost a vanilla crunchiness to it, and there was also wood, caramel, straw and a combination of wet hay and wet grass. There was better sprite in the mouth, a Chateldon quality of a sparkle, very fine but bright with its lemony goodness. Hints of minerals, wet rocks and earth rounded it out at first. This bubbly kept changing, though, and its secondary aromas were all about dried fruits extraordinaire, this combination of apricot, peach, pineapple and banana peel. It got more stewed, in a good way, and the palate flirted with outstanding, but there was a hint of lightness in the middle. Some caviar brought it across the border; however, we were a bit shocked to find out this was a 1979 Krug Collection, out of magnum nonetheless. I have had infantile bottles of this, so even though this magnum was still outstanding, it was definitely a touch advanced (95A-M).

We had one white wine on this night, a white Burgundy, of course, also served out of magnum. It had a gorgeous nose, honeyed and dressed in white with aromas of acacia, lilac and honeysuckle. On the one hand, it was so sweet and so tropical, but on the other hand still so poised. All the shades of honey joined the party – suckle, comb, nectar…even honeydew. Its floral components were definitely all white. The palate was round and softer than the nose, perhaps muted by the cold temperature at which it was served, but the white was still seemingly mature with its integrated acidity despite its youthful flavors. I noted that its acidity could also have been lost in its opulence, and sure enough the broth that came shortly thereafter helped the acidity emerge. Wolf observed, ‘honey, pineapple and botrytis.’ We were thinking DRC ’85 or ’90, shocked to find out it was a 2001 Drouhin Montrachet Marquis de Laguiche! It was a fascinating follow up to the 2000 I had the night before, showing a lot of botrytis, indeed (93M).

It was time to get serious with some red, red wine. The first red had a great, old nose with the cobwebs, dust and leather, but still fragrance to its fruit. Sweet black cherry, cassis, a pinch of animal and an almost Asian, spicy glaze were all there in this alive and complex nose. Caramel started oozing out, along with some sautéed green beans. The palate was a bit simpler, ‘volatile’ per Wolf, who still conceded ‘beautiful sweetness,’ a ‘the sweetness of death.’ The palate was honeyed with hints of raisin and fig, round and fleshy without the flesh, lush without being chewy. It was soft, tender and caressing in the mouth, with dusty flavors of candle wax and walnuts. The intensity factor wasn’t much, but the beauty was still there in this magnum of 1947 Latour, and that is that ‘sweetness of death’ to which Wolf earlier referred (92M).

The next wine’s nose was all about the graham cracker at first, with chocolate behind it. It flirted with smores but was not that sweet. It was more gamy and ‘waxy’(Wolf, of course), with aromas of dried nuts and shells. The palate was rich and had excellent mouth feel and grip with its great citric spice, tang and long finish. Even Wolf cooed about its length. The wine was round, rich, tangy and long, still with excellent acidity. Flavors of carob and tobacco and a signature gravelly finish rounded out this excellent magnum of 1947 Haut Brion (94M).

The next red was also out of magnum, much lighter in color but still all about Bordeaux. There was a perfect balance of nut and cedar, complemented by an equally beautiful balance of fruits and nuts, along with ‘sweet roses.’ The nose was incredibly harmonious; rich, soft and tender with pinches of gas and earth. ‘Sweet and mellow,’ Wolf admired, calling it ‘more refined.’ Lafite? Ausone? This was grace in a glass, a charming, tender and easy wine, and sure enough was a magnum of 1947 Lafite Rothschild, what would turn out to be the most elegant wine of the night (94M).

The quality continued with a much deeper nose. Aromas of olive, forest, mushroom gravy, black fruits and a cardamom or something of the sorts were all present in this big nose. The palate was noticeably dry, a bit sun burnt in a black sand way. There were more tannins and tobacco present in this gritty red. It was not as seductive as the Lafite, but sometimes a spanking is in order lol. I liked the vigor in this magnum of 1947 Calon Segur. It was more muscle than charm, a sturdy, schoolyard bully of a ’47, and excellent though perhaps a hint brutish (93+M).

The next two reds stole the show, as they should have. The first had great cobwebs in the nose, like walking into a tomb full of wine treasure. Dust, leather, earth, carob and caramel were all there in supporting roles. A hint of Mouton mint and menthol crept in, but this was not Mouton. The palate was rich and saucy, chocolaty and minty. The acidity was superb and noticeably long, giving tremendous lift to an already spicy finish. Everyone quickly agreed that this was wine of the night, a true ‘palate coater.’ This magnum of 1947 Ausone was worth a trip to Switzerland! It was so minty and so delicious, rusty and spiny to the last drop. Traces of gardenia lingered in my empty glass (97M).

The obligatory magnum of 1947 Cheval Blanc followed. Oh, if you insist. The nose was coffee city; rich, concentrated and saucy. It, too, had excellent acidity and was very hearty, spicy and long. 1947 was a Right Bank year, after all. It became classically port-like with a little air time. Flavors of caramel, chocolate and motor oil were all there, and there was no doubting the quality of its intense grit, spice and spine. Walter, aka ‘Mr. Cheval Blanc,’ blessed the wine, so we knew we were good . The Ausone and Cheval were practically a dead heat, but in the end I preferred the Ausone. Walter then got up and proceeded to give a warm, heartfelt speech. Too bad it was in German lol (96+M).

But it wasn’t over! There were two dessert wines to go, the first being a 1967 Yquem. The Yquem’s nose was sweet and musky, classic with its candle wax, nut and caramel aromas. While it came across mature, its color was so young. Wolf picked on it, citing ‘a hint of bitterness and not quite perfect.’ After getting to know Wolf’s collection intimately, it is easier to understand how ‘not quite perfect’ is a letdown! It was still clean and fresh to me, with delicious flavors of caramel, orange marmalade, butterscotch, peach and apricot. It didn’t last long in my glass - yum (96).

The second Sauternes had a milder nose with more wax and honey to it and also seemed deeper, thicker and nuttier. The palate was much richer and oilier, full of coconut and smoke flavors. There was more acidity and pop here, but the 1947 Rieussec gave a clumsier impression and seemed simpler over time, albeit still excellent in its own right (94).

Happy Birthday Hans Jorg. To many more!

JK

Dinner with Wolf

Posted on | October 7, 2008

After a hard week packing up Wolfgang’s cellar, or should I say half of it, Wolf rewarded us with a tremendous dinner at Zum Gupf, a spectacular mountain retreat near Appenzell where you can actually see Germany and Austria. We sampled a quintet of wines from his cellar, featuring a pair of Romanee Contis and Leroys, two of his favorite things.

First, we set the table with a 1996 Krug clos du Mesnil. The razor-like acidity was incredible at first whiff, slicing through my nose with ninja-like dexterity. The nose was pure Krug with its vanilla cream and bright citrus rainbow. The palate was so fresh and zippy but somehow reserved. Its flavors still manged to last on my palate for over a minute. It reminded me of Romanee Conti (RC) with its extraordinary subtlety yet length. There were excellent traces of nut and wood in this Champagne that is as good as it gets (98+).

The 1982 DRC Montrachet had a deep color and fantastic nose with an amazing balance of smoke and sweetness. Aromas of forest and Szechuan oil without the spicy edge graced its regal nose, along with butter, caramel and honey. Its palate was rich and sweet with lots of root vegetable flavors. Wolf found that it ‘shows botrytis,’ but its sweetness was not over the top, and it was in a perfect spot at age 26. The acisity was still solid even though the wine just melted in the mouth. There was great dust expression as well as well as toffee crunch flavors, and a ‘scotch-like complexity’ per Justin. Hints of mesquite rounded out this rich, supple and perfect expression of mature Montrachet (95).

A 1990 Leroy Latricieres Chambertin needed a minute to blow off its oak, but after that aromas of cherry oil, forest, earth, mint and basil. This was certainly a bull in the burgundy shop lol. Black cherry and strawberry joined the party, and this exotic Thai curry (wow!) along with cinnamon. The wine was a bit brutish after the Montrachet but still excellent and signature in style of Leroy. It got more Asian in its spice with a refill, its big beefy flavors balancing well with its leather, spice and spine. It got more purple in its nose, and a debate ensued whether this was poetry or rap. Either way, it had something to say (93).

The 1990 Leroy Richebourg was much beefier and brawnier, very brooding in style. Again, there was this initial whiff of wood, along with sesame oil and crunch. More animalistic, the Richebourg also had much more power, again big and bruising with more slate and mineral this time. It got saucier in the glass, concentrated and exotic, thick, burly and rich with its meaty flavors of beef and cola. Bouillon emerged, along with smoked almonds (95+).

The 1983 DRC Romanee Conti was a fitting farewell. Exotic aromas of mint and vanilla first emerged, along with some tutti frutti and a hint of rot. It was still concentrated yet also light on its feet. The palate was thick and lush, so RC. The mint morphed into more spice cabinet, and rust crept in. It had that gout de terroir and rich, delicious menthol flavors. Its acidity was still remarkable for 1983, a year that always seems to setll please me when it comes to the best producers. There is no doubt that this is one of them (95).

It was a small selection, but one that proved the point yet again what a special cellar this is. I will always drink to it.

JK

Wine lectures I

Posted on | September 4, 2008

Thursday: there was another meeting of the wine club which I co-founded and whose purpose is the laudable enquiry into wine, literature, art and anything else. Hedonism constrained by enquiry might be an appropriate description of our activities. The club is known as the Kensington Amateur Wine Club (or, KAWC, for short). The choice of name may seem odd but we decided to use a name which could not, in any way, be considered pretentious - there is so much pretentiousness in wine. Wine is such a refined product that it often attracts wine bores and snobs. We wish to appeal to a broad section of the public. The acronym seemed appropriate.

I was to address the society this day on the ‘Epigrams of Lord Henry Wootton, from the novel ‘the Picture of Dorian Gray’, and their relationship to wine’ and below is an account of the evening…

‘Good evening gentlemen - ahem, Madame - and gentlemen.’ I peered over my reading glasses at a large rectangular form topped by a substantial blue rinse hairdo encased in a broad hat which appeared to offer a variety of border plants which had been harvested at their post optimum maturity.

‘Welcome…’ I smiled benignly at our new member, the depth of my benignity constrained only by the lack of a reciprocal response. I turned back to my text.

‘Permit me to introduce my subject this evening, of which you have received due notification, with the following: ‘…there is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about and that is not being talked about.’

I think I detected some stifled guffaws (or was it shuffling feet?).

‘I think that we could apply this to any wine and it makes a good introduction to the evening.’

‘Let me first admit that my interpretation of the famous novel, The picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde, is somewhat different to the mainstream thought on this subject. I do not believe that the allegory is so obvious as it appears. On the contrary it is as subtle as the ‘Immaculate Conception’. One might even say, it was the ‘Immaculate Deception’. The portrait of Dorian Gray expresses the protagonist’s mental corruption and mendacity rather than his deeds. He veils (an anagram of evils) his actions. To give an example, it is not when he kills his portraitist Basil that the painting takes on an even more evil and sinister aspect but rather that he lies about it and corrupts a friend to dispose of the body. Gray’s evil lies in his ability to hide his motives and thoughts rather than his actions. Much like the concept of the Immaculate Conception which is not the subject of the painting but the concept of it which gives it its name - something which few people appear to comprehend. So, an allegory, but rather for the unfortunate life of Oscar Wilde himself and, I believe, it is the writer who writes of himself. A self-portrait indeed with the scoffing Lord Henry Wootton an alter ego.”

I gazed around the room at this juncture and feeling that I had somehow outlined an appealing but abstruse post-structuralist proposition decided I would revert to the more prosaic matters of some membership business so that the assembled company might have time to digest my theory which was crucial to my exposition concerning the epigrams of Henry Wootton whilst considering his proposition that ‘every effect that one produces gives one an enemy. To be popular one must be a mediocrity.’

‘By the way, before we really get started I’ve been asked to mention a few of our upcoming fascinating lectures. Next Friday Pierre Martin will tell us about his exciting expedition and ‘The wines I drank on Aconcagua’ .

A hand shot up in the audience.

“Sorry Hugh, but Pierre won’t be able to deliver the lecture as planned”.

I had trouble disguising my disappointment. “Oh dear. Well, perhaps we could reschedule it?”

“That won’t be possible”. Kevin was a young serious individual and had attended all our meetings. I had given him the role of Club Secretary. I was charmed by his youth and naivety. He made me think of the line ‘because you have the most marvellous youth, and youth is the one thing worth having.’ Favouritism tinctured by nostalgia I grant you.

“Kevin. How many questions will it take to drag out the information we need on this?”

“Sorry, Hugh. Unfortunately, Pierre is dead. He fell off K2 last week. Apparently they had cleared the Abruzzi Spur just above the Godwin Austen Glacier and were on the Bottleneck when one of his climbing partners yelled that he could see the top. Pierre lifted up his head and the weight of the bottles he was carrying pulled him off the mountain.’

‘Bottles? You mean oxygen?’, I replied.

‘No not at all. I gather he was planning a vertical of Chateau Latour on the summit.’

‘I see. Presumably all the bottles were lost?’ Perhaps my concern was a little hasty.

‘I believe so’ replied Kevin in a voice which led me to believe he, at least, had not understood the underlying motivation behind my enquiry although I had detected a faint gasp of disapproval emanating from the flower box in front of me.

‘But I thought all climbers roped up?’. Was I pushing the possibility of saving this fabulous wine too far?

‘They are, but his climbing partner cut the rope immediately, believing he couldn’t support the weight and anyway the word is he was always more of a Merlot man.’ Another of Wilde’s quotes entered my head ‘death and vulgarity are the only two facts in the nineteenth century that one cannot explain away,’ realising that I was using up the store of eloquence I had prepared for the evening.

‘Well, we’ll just have to bring forward Heinz’s ‘The hidden cellars of president Higinio Morinigo Martinez of Paraguay’

Kevin’s hand appeared again, only this time it barely reached the height of his ear lobe expressing a diffidence predicated on the reception of the latest bombshell he was about to impart. ‘Sorry… Hugh….’

‘Yes, Kevin?’, I replied curtly although to be fair to the young man it wasn’t exactly his fault but I’d somehow embarked on a public execration of our entire year’s programme and I was feeling embarrassed.

‘I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone it. Heinz can’t make it.’

‘Well, that’s infuriating of him. He’d better have a good excuse?’

‘He’s in prison,’ said Kevin. ‘He was arrested last week in his cellar with a substantial collection of phoney bottles purporting to come from South America including some large format First Growths with Paraguayan customs’ stamps on the labels. Some of the bottles even had swastikas on them. Didn’t you buy some wine off him, Hugh?’

‘Well, that was a long time ago’ I spluttered, ‘before he became obsessed with South American dictators. Anyway, I sold all of them at auction. I never actually consumed any of them.’

I refrained from asking when Heinz might be available to appear sensing a sudden lack of enthusiasm for the subject. I was feeling tired now and had no wish to deliver my own lecture which conveniently everyone had seemed to have forgotten about. I had noticed Felix sitting near the back row, his beret askew, as always. I looked at him hard. He smiled back, a lingering, reassuring and friendly smile. I felt emboldened.

‘Well, at least we have the fascinating ‘Prime numbers and Hungarian vintages’ talk from Felix Kerekes’.

Felix beamed back and I felt a rush of affection for Hungarian wines.

Hugh Stanley

Vintage 1965: (I can’t get no) Satisfaction

Posted on | August 23, 2008

Unfortunately, 1965 started inauspiciously when wine’s greatest living ambassador died at the age of ninety - Winston Churchill. His capacity for drinking was reknown as were his related quotations: ‘remember it is not just France we are saving but also Champagne’ and ‘I must point out that my rule of life prescribed as an absolutely sacred rite smoking cigars and also the drinking of alcohol before, after, and if need be during all meals and in the intervals between them’ which he reputedly announced during a lunch with the Arab leader Ibn Saud, on being told that the King’s religion forbade smoking and alcohol. Harry Hopkins’s (one of Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s closest advisers) papers contain many references to Churchill and his enjoyment of wine and its fortified varieties. In a memo from Churchill to Hopkins dated 21 January 1943 : ‘Dinner. … (Dry, alas!); with the Sultan. After dinner, recovery from the effects of the above.’ The next day Hopkins arrived early at Churchill’s residence to discover him ‘in bed in his customary pink robe, and having, of all things, a bottle of wine for breakfast.’ As if in revenge for the loss of such a great wine lover most of western Europe sustained one of the worst vintages ever. In Champagne the summer passed with severe storms, cold and hail. In Bordeaux it was catastrophically damp and cool, and Burgundy had one of the worst vintages on record. One would have to look to the west coast of the United States for something better.

1965 was the year that Mick Jagger and Keith Richards wrote the hugely popular ‘(I can’t get no) Satisfaction’ which regularly features in the Top 100 most popular or seminal songs of the 20th century. It was the first hit song in the USA for the Rolling Stones. The title and content of the song is often erroneously construed as having strong sensual connotations whereas it was really a statement against the unchecked commercialism that Jagger witnessed in the United States during their tour there and when this song was written. It tries to illustrate just how luckless and alienated one can become if one doesn’t conform to these consumer aspirations - Jagger’s alienation complete with his line: ‘When I’m drivin’ in my car, and the man come on the radio, He’s tellin’ me more and more about some useless information. Supposed to fire my imagination’. Perhaps the 60s more than any other marked the start of ‘commodification’, a theme of this song, as social values are replaced by ones determined by their market value, but a word which only made it into the Oxford English dictionary a decade later even if its roots are founded in the philosophies of Karl Marx over a hundred years previously. As an antidote to the musical irreverence of the youth of their day, the rest of the world continued to live a normal life by making The Sound of Music, starring Julie Andrews, the biggest grossing film of the year.

The revolution played itself out in the decades that followed as Hell’s Angels, drug-takers, revolutionaries and the scene setters of the 60s fermented into a maturing middle class, themselves turning the capitalist wheel complete with honours, knighthoods, gala evenings, royal patronage and the sartorial accoutrements of Range Rovers, Barbour jackets and green wellies. The predictions of sociologists and philosophers of the time conveniently forgotten as the icons of the era faded into a diaspora of contented bourgeoisie. So much for the counter-culture.

The Rolling Stones’ arch rivals, The Beatles, continued to progress with their new album Rubber Soul, a title which was credited to Paul McCartney who had overheard another musician referring to the voice of Mick Jagger as ‘plastic soul’. It was also the year the Beatles met with Elvis Presley for the first and last time. In the UK, apart from these two groups, the best selling artists that year included Elvis Presley, the Shadows, Bob Dylan, The Byrds, The Kinks, The Hollies, The Animals, Sonny and Cher, The Yardbirds, Marianne Faithfull, and Tom Jones. All these would continue to dominate the music scene for decades something which no popular music pundit might have predicted back then.

But it’s hard to imagine the swinging 60s if you weren’t actually part of it - ‘Swinging’ because just about anything went and as Jefferson Airplane’s Paul Kantner commented: ‘If you can remember anything about the sixties, you weren’t really there.’ This image sustained by the largely misunderstood slogan of Timothy Leary ‘turn on, tune in, drop out’ something he helpfully clarified in his 1983 autobiography Flashbacks: ‘Turn on’ meant go within to activate your neural and genetic equipment. Become sensitive to the many and various levels of consciousness and the specific triggers that engage them. Drugs were one way to accomplish this end. ‘Tune in’ meant interact harmoniously with the world around you - externalize, materialize, express your new internal perspectives. Drop out suggested an elective, selective, graceful process of detachment from involuntary or unconscious commitments. ‘Drop Out’ meant self-reliance, a discovery of one’s singularity, a commitment to mobility, choice, and change. Unhappily my explanations of this sequence of personal development were often misinterpreted to mean ‘Get stoned and abandon all constructive activity’. It’s not hard to understand why no one grasped the true meaning at the time.

The price of wines in the 1960s had not yet put them in the status of asset-class. Berry Bros & Rudd, one of the UK’s oldest wine merchants revealed that in 1965 they sold the following bottles: 1960 Chateau Latour or 1960 Chateau Mouton Rothschild for 42/6 (forty-two and six if you can’t remember that far back or £2 2s 6d: £2.125 expressed as a decimal) , 1961 Ch. Cheval Blanc: 48/- (forty-eight bob; £2.4) 1961 Ch. Lynch Bages: 29/- (£1.45) per bottle, 1961 Ch. Palmer: 30/- (£1.5) per bottle and 1961 Ch. Léoville Barton: 29/6 (£1.475) per bottle. Apparently quite cheap. However, if we convert these into today’s money they look like this: 1960 Chateau Latour or 1960 Chateau Mouton Rothschild £28 at today’s prices; 1961 Ch. Cheval Blanc: £32, 1961 Ch. Lynch Bages: £19, 1961 Ch. Palmer £20 and 1961 Ch. Léoville Barton £20. So, something has changed given that a bottle of the 2007 vintage of Chateau Latour would set you back just over two hundred pounds in today’s money. That’s almost ten times more than might be accounted for by inflation alone. In 1965 you could buy an E type jaguar for approximately £1850. In today’s money that is £25,000. A gallon of petrol cost which cost around £0.24 then would cost £3.50 today if adjusted for inflation alone whereas in fact it costs just £5 (sic).

You can find wines from the 1965 vintage today, at generally inflated prices, perhaps sold for the purpose of celebrating some anniversary or other, like newspapers. One hopes they give some pleasure.

This is part of a series of articles about all modern vintages. It is published in Fine Wine magazine.

Fabian Cobb

Bear markets, chickens and wine

Posted on | July 30, 2008

This is just a short note to highlight what could be an interesting review at the year end, at least as far as the UK wine market is concerned. For the last ten years consumers have benefited from a strong currency vis-a-vis the US dollar and Euro, low rates of interest and low inflation. Their properties have risen to staggering values fueling credit opportunities. Now, this is all changing and it will be interesting to see how the economic circumstances of the current period impact. Living costs are rising, the pound is going down, the tax take is not decreasing, property is going down, and there is a credit crunch. Selling any product to consumers is going to get a lot tougher. It’s worth noting that in the last few months if you’re in the premium or luxury market sales have been good. This doesn’t necessarily transfer to higher market capitalisation as earnings multiples are not being upheld. 45 of the largest 350 companies quoted on the London Stock exchange have lost more than 70% of their value since their peak during the last 18 months. The UK’s Chancellor of the Exchequer described the slowdown in the UK as ‘profound’ whilst a reputable thinktank referred to the UK economy as a ‘horror movie’ (The Ernst & Young Item Club). The outlook for the next year at least is gloomy.

Worse, for those focussed only on on-trade sales (sales through hotels, bars restaurants etc) a recent survey in the Observer newspaper reckoned that people’s top sacrifice was eating out - twice as many giving this up compared to holidays or the gym; even more than donations to charity.

According to a report in the Guardian newspaper (25th July, 2008) allotments are in demand and people wanting to own chickens outstrips supply. Could this also translate to vineyards?

So, let’s lay down a marker and see where we go from here…

Bastille Day in Beaune

Posted on | July 28, 2008

I have been traveling across Europe for the better part of two weeks. The first week was all work, packing up the cellar of Wolfgang Grunewald in scenic Switzerland. While we probably should have spent seven or eight days on the job inspecting and packing the some-odd 800 cases for shipment, we managed to jam it into five days in true Acker fashion, including a couple of 2-3am nights. It was well worth it; it was a thrilling cellar to inspect, and it should be the most significant sale of the entire market’s Fall season.

Wolfgang, a healthy and vigorous 78-year old whose passion for life is as great as it’s ever been, has been collecting wines for over thirty years, much of it with his dear friend Bipin Desai. Together they sought after the best of the best for decades, not only for their collections, but also to experience. It was an epic journey of tastings and dinners throughout America and Europe, leaving a trail of thousands of empty bottles behind, one that still continues to this day. Of course, we tasted a few things during that week with Wolf, but I will get to that soon enough, as I will more about Wolf and his cellar. Suffice it to say for now that it is one of the last great and grand collections of the 20th century, a testament not only to the man himself, but also to a golden era of discovery for those passionate about the grape.

So we finished up on the 12th, but there was a significant tasting of 1947s the following Friday, again in Switzerland, so I figured it was finally a good time to take a long, overdue trip to Burgundy in between. The Don, Doug, Brian, the Rock and the Burghound were all already there, or scheduled to be there, so it was as good a time as any to be there myself for the first time since I was a child. I had been meaning to come to Burgundy for a long time, but never quite seemed to make it. I can safely say, after spending a few days nestled away in beautiful Beaune, that I will be back very soon. Beaune is an amazing little ‘ville,’ with a neighborly, Old World feel, where life centers around wine, lunch and dinner. Sounds like paradise, right? Well, it was to me, and I highly recommend a trip to Beaune if you ever want to get lost in the countryside, or under the dinner table, for a few days, which is exactly what I did.

I basically came to decompress. There were a couple of significant appointments that I was able to make, but for the most part, the week was recovering from the strenuous week prior, and catching up on a lot of paperwork as well. Lunch and dinner were significant parts of the day, none more significant than the dinner we had on Bastille Day, which was also a birthday celebration for Doug Barzelay, one of Burgundy’s most knowledgeable and experienced collectors, who appropriately was born on France’s version of independence day. Eight of us gathered at the L’Hotel de Beaune, including Louis Michel Liger-Belair, one of Burgundy’s youngest shining stars.

The evening started innocently enough with a 1999 Philipponat Clos des Goisses, which had a pungent nose that was on the anise side with aromas of wet hay and citrus, but also possessing roses and minerals. It had rocket-like acidity, with rocky and racy flavors of pungent pee and wet hay. While certainly fresh, it lacked a bit of depth that I had hoped for based on the nose, but it was still an intense bubbly built for the long haul (93).

A pair of 1979 whites was the official welcome to dinner, beginning with a 1979 Ramonet Bienvenues Batard Montrachet. A clean yet tangy nose flirted with pungency, possessing good stink. Aromas of earth, mesquite and indoor cleaner resulted in a nose that was fresher than I expected. There were not yet as many mature nuances here, and the wine was more lemony and zippy. There was a hint of a cement, oak and nut mix like a faceful of sidewalk tree stump lol. The acidity here was special, and while its flavors stayed on the pungent side, it was the clear preference and admired by all (94).

A 1979 Coche-Dury Meursaul Perrieres was unfortunately a bit corked, although it wasn’t blatant or so dominant that the wine couldn’t be evaluated a bit. There was a balance of old and new here in its earthy and yeasty nose, one balanced by warm lemon notes. Orange blossom slowly emerged, as did a BBQ stink. There were a lot of cement flavors in this ‘overpowering’ white, one that was ‘hinting at nuttiness but beyond that,’ per the Rock. Flavors of poached yellow tomatoes also joined the party in this ’79, whose acidity was still solid. Doug finally conceded its mustiness, saying ‘I thought it would clean up, but it didn’t.’ There were still some exotic and meaty flavors to this unfortunately affected bottle of Coche (92A).

Speaking of affected bottles, there were unfortunately a pair of oxidized old Ramonets, or Ramonet-Prudhons as they were back in 1962 and 1971. The 1962 Ramonet-Prudhon Batard Montrachet had one of the more offensive noses I had encountered, so much so that I was scared to even taste it. It smelled like dirty sea dock that was ready for a horror movie scene. It did taste better than it smelled, but it was clearly shot (DQ). The 1971 was not that bad, and ‘still pleasant,’ as one put it, though clearly affected and not what it woulda/coulda/shoulda. It still had a very exotic nose, yeasty but with this Galiano cake meets orange blossom honey thing happening. There were tea-like flavors in this soft and round white that had ‘lost its fruit,’ as Doug observed, but its nose continued to get more exotic and very marmelade-like. ‘Apricot jam’ and ‘a hint of basil’ were also noted in this simpler-than-it-could-have-been white, which was still ok and palatable but affected (88A).

It was a tough start for this tough crowd. Between Doug and the Rock, praise can be difficult to come by! However, we marched on, and things would soon right themselves in dramatic fashion once we got to the reds. There was still one more white, a 1992 Lafon Montrachet, a quick emergency substitute due to all the issues with the whites. Its nose was buttery and toasty with nice perfume and ‘Georgia peach’ per our Georgia Peach of a guest. One could smell the botrytis in its sweet corn aromas, and the Rock observed how there was ‘both sur-maturite and drying qualities; I am not sure how that can be.’ I liked its smoky nose and the additional aromas of earth, caramel and lit match. The palate was round and yeasty, also a bit Botrytissed. The Rock and I got into a debate about ratings when I asked him what he would score this wine, and he said ‘89 points.’ When I scoffed at such a low score for what I would categorize as still a very good wine (92 points), albeit one on the decline, the swords were quickly drawn. ‘You’re smoking crack,’ I was told, and I countered how he was part of the ‘No Joy, No Luck Club.’ Doug is the President, by the way, lol. We quickly settled on an 89-92 rating, and the Rock convinced me to average down after accurately describing how the wine lacked that ‘excitement factor’ that he seeks. All in good fun (91).

A pair of glorious 1937s were next, beginning with a great bottle of 1937 DRC Echezeaux. Aromas of green olives danced on a platform of ripe brown sugar and oat, combined with tomato and Worcestershire. This was a heady and saucy wine, still with sold t ‘n a in its nose. Someone noted ‘licorice’ in the nose, and benevolent ‘rubber’ on the palate. Superb brown sugar flavors graced its rich and saucy palate. Sweet, black and red cherry flavors balanced with its hearty acidity. I could see it being a touch too ripe for some, since it was so ‘hedonistic.’ I was quickly skewered for my use of the word, and despite that, everyone was in agreement that this was an outstanding and impressive bottle (95).

The 1937 Drouhin Bonnes Mares was equally as glorious, although stylistically much different. The nose was more reserved compared to the Echezeaux, although sweet cherry slowly fought through a wall of smoke, earth, freshly cut green grass, a green grass that almost flirted with honeydew. A syrup edge emerged as its nose became more cherry and more vanilla with time in the glass. While the Drouhin was not as over the top as the DRC, the acidity was superb in this dusty delectable. Someone compared the two ‘37s to ‘chocolate cake versus a tart,’ the DRC being the cake. It was also joked that one ‘could bring home the Bonnes Mares to Mom.’ The Rock was all over the ‘elegance’ of the Drouhin, scoring it 97 points to 94 points for the DRC. He was wrong again (96).

A rare pair of Liger-Belairs were next, both original bottlings, all the more special in the presence of Louis Michel Liger-Belair. First was a 1906 Liger-Belair La Romanee. The nose was great; deep yet reticent and on the black and purple side, still pungent and fresh despite being age 102. The nose morphed into aromas of mint and curry while its fruit focused into blackberry and boysenberry. Traces of spine and spice were still alive and kicking after all these years. The palate was rich but had a bit of a metallic edge at first, but it blew off into a soft, leathery edge. The acidity was still intense, and everyone was ooh-ing and aah-ing over this ancient relic. Violet and sweet black fruit flavors still sung in this citric, dusty and vibrant ’06…1906. The Rock summed it up, comparing the ’06 to a ‘school yard bully. It beats the crap out of everyone in its way. It’s not elegant, but it sure is powerful’ (96).
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Beijing

Posted on | July 7, 2008

Here’s wishing everyone a happy 4th of July with an article about…Beijing, or rather my recent trip to Beijing before our inaugural Hong Kong auction, interrupting my not-so-recent ‘Four in a Row’ series of articles. Better late than never, I know. But, in a way, I can’t help but notice the irony, and I can assure you it was strictly unintentional! Without getting into a social and economic paper about it, let’s just say that China has got the world’s attention with its blistering economy, not to mention all the profits it is making for foreign companies as well. Is it me, or do Americans seem to be getting fatter and lazier? Well, the Chinese are hungry, and they are coming, three or four for every American, too. It is clear to me that China is the world’s next superpower, and I hope America will continue to keep up. Work, people!

Where were we…Bipin’s auction was Wednesday night the 21st of May, and I was off to Hong Kong on the 22nd, meaning that I got there on the 23rd. Time flies when you head to the Far East. Before I could say ‘ni hao,’ I was off to Beijing that Saturday morning to attend the International Congress of Chinese Cuisine and Wine’s seminar, featuring sessions of Penfolds Grange and Chateau Margaux, led by Peter Gago and Paul Pontallier respectively. Robert Parker was actually in Beijing this very same weekend, but doing a different event.

It was my first trip to Beijing, and the first thing that I noticed upon descending into this great and emerging city was the haze that surrounds it. The pollution is definitely a problem, and one could argue that there is no sky once inside this bustling metropolis, where bicycles still seem to be as equally as popular as cars for transportation, undoubtedly a financial consideration for many. However, one could not help but feel the energy of the city, building away and growing rapidly by the minute, the anticipation and pride of the Olympics everywhere. Despite the overall ‘gray’ feel, and the shadows of deep-rooted Communism still lurking, one could still appreciate the change that has and will continue to take place, especially when discussing with those that had been there even ten years prior.

I was a bit discombobulated, and by the time we had gotten settled in, I had to crash for a power nap, one from which I could barely resuscitate. I stumbled downstairs to seven vintages of Grange, and although I thought I wasn’t going to be able to take notes, after a few sips and spits, I got into the zone for Australia’s first growth, which averages between 7,000-9,000 cases a year.
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The Billionaire’s Vinegar

Posted on | June 27, 2008

Subtitled: the mystery of the world’s most expensive bottle of wine.

This was a bottle of wine which was sold at auction some 25 years ago: Château Lafite 1787. Its authenticity is eventually brought into question. The bottle sold for just over $156,000 to the magazine publisher Malcolm Forbes, outbidding Wine Spectator publisher Marvin Shanken. To put this into context a case (12 bottles) of 1961 Petrus recently sold for $102,850 (Sotheby’s Aulden Cellars, 2008).

Billionaire’s Vinegar is a book you will enjoy reading; wine-lover or not but I don’t much care for the title of this book. Explicit oxymorons don’t work in my view and both ‘billionaire’ and ‘vinegar’ are harsh unattractive words with unpleasant connotations. Millionaire is altogether more pleasing and less extravagant sounding. Vinegar is ambiguous in this context. Clearly confusing.

Billionaire’s Vinegar concentrates on mostly old bottles of Château Lafite and Château d’Yquem which purport to have belonged to one of the founding fathers of modern America, Thomas Jefferson, a man who travelled the world learning about and enjoying fine wines wherever he went. A bottle of Château Lafite, engraved with his initials (Th. J) was sold at auction (Christie’s) in 1985 for the record price of $156,000 to the ‘billionaire’ publisher Malcolm Forbes. This book doesn’t tell us why he and others like him are motivated to purchase a wine for such a price when, apart from its dubious provenance, it would likely be undrinkable. Such was the heat (both literally and metaphorically) that the auctioneer, the person who staked his reputation on the validity of the lot, cooled his feet in a bucket of cold water, unseen by the roomful of bidders. No one stood up to gainsay the authenticity of the bottle then even if they doubted it. One wonders why not.

The book is balanced and well-researched. Wallace and others have been struck by similarities to another great forgery in the late 20th century, that of the Hitler Diaries. Forgers themselves are often more knowledgeable than the experts they fool. Much to everyone’s chagrin they make a mockery of valuers, historians, and connoisseurs. The world of fine wine at this level is rarefied. Hardy Rodenstock, who is described as being behind many apparently fake old bottles, has also conned most of the major wine critics and commentators at one time or another - Parker, Broadbent, Shanken, Sutcliffe, Robinson all included. Just as with the Hitler Diaries there are those who become caught up in the rush of excitement desiring to give the public what they want. A bottle of wine belonging to Thomas Jefferson is so significant it becomes impossible to deny. Objectivity gives way to fantasy which is not a totally unworthy sentiment when the only true reaction to a great bottle of wine is an emotional one. But in my view Christie’s auction house never possessed the negligent intentions that Rupert Murdoch lent to the publication of the Hitler Diaries. Murdoch never cared whether they were real or not.

Mr Wallace travelled the world to interview participants in this drama and has worked hard to assemble the proof or even lack of proof for authenticating the wine under review. It’s too bad his publishers didn’t give him the space to add an index and even a few appendices.

Wallace writes well and sympathetically. Some of the crueller anecdotes concerning well-known wine industry commentators are related as if they are the diagnosis of a benign, disinterested, clinical psychiatrist referring to his pschyopathic patient. A good novel is about characterisation, style, and evocation. Not totally dissimilar to a good wine. Content and plot are often secondary. Not here: but then this is no novel. Something one has to remind oneself of again and again. Indeed, characterising the protagonists in this book would be hard — they are bottles of wine. There are so few of them, and they are so expensive, that very few people will have had, or will ever have the opportunity to taste them. All very esoteric.

As one nears the end of the book it’s hard to feel any real sympathy for the aggrieved parties. So long as you need a scientist to carbon date your wine to prove its authenticity, you might as well drink Coke. The ultimate irony is that many of these Jefferson bottles which will rarely be drunk were portrayed as belonging to an historic and highly knowledgeable wine enthusiast who ended his days drinking table wine and enjoying it just as much. I suggest Messrs Koch and the others do the same.

Hardy Rodenstock, the man at the centre of the scandal, seems to have used most of his friends at one time or another for no other purpose than legitimising his wine collection. It is a truly sad picture of a person so intent upon becoming part of a world which he aspired to that he was prepared to sacrifice and even betray these friendships for a seat at the table. His talents, enthusiasm and knowledge were already enough for this and it reminds me of the lone yachtsman Donald Crowhurst who faked his passage around the world in the Sunday Times Golden Globe Race - a single-handed round the world yacht race. To do so he had to fake his yacht’s position on a regular basis which he could only do by working back from a particular grid position on a chart. A mathematical exercise which would have daunted even a university professor. He had already accomplished more than most yachtsman do in a lifetime and broken several records before he slowly went out of his mind from the stress, loneliness and alienation he felt all those thousands of miles from home. Paradoxically the possibility that his forgery would lead him to win the race only increased his anxiety and shortly after his last log entry he jumped into the sea and was never seen again.

Hardy Rodenstock has a lot of explaining to do - mostly to his friends.

Review by Fabian Cobb

See this archived Forum post.

The Billionaire’s Vinegar
by Benjamin Wallace
Published by Crown Publishers, New York