I’ve been asked for my opinions on what ‘brow’ classification certain wines fall under. For those unfamiliar, the ‘brow’ classification divides life on earth into four categories – Highbrow Highbrow, Lowbrow Highbrow, Highbrow Lowbrow and Lowbrow Lowbrow. It first came to my attention in an Honi Soit article reviewing pub trivia venues in the vicinity of Sydney University. I have found it most efficacious for classifying everything else too.
The classification applies to both things and attitudes towards things. Highbrow Highbrow is the ultimate in the evolution of any field, like a Doctor of Letters from Oxford University, the works of Joyce or Proust, The Rite of Spring by Stravinsky, shirts from Turnbull & Asser.
Lowbrow Highbrow is its poor imitation – things that attempt to rival true Highbrow Highbrow but fail miserably, yet are still loved by those with a little learning and loads of cash. Members of this category include MBA degrees, Tim Winton novels, classical music compilations such as ABC Classic FM’s ‘Swoon’ collection, Rockpool restaurant, Armani suits, the(sydney)magazine.
Highbrow Lowbrow is my favourite category – its members don’t pretend to greatness but are the greatest things of the everyday – Agatha Christie novels, sausages and mash, Wife Swap, Naxos CDs, yum cha.
And Lowbrow Lowbrow is pretty self explanatory – Lowes, shop-a-docket, Panthers World of Entertainment, greyhound racing, The Jeremy Kyle Show.
This classification is not, repeat NOT meant to be a hierarchy. One’s life may, indeed probably does, (and really should for the sake of life experience alone), transcend the brows. A great friend of mine went to Eton, studied classics at Oxford and is related to Earl Grey (of tea fame), and even he likes Desperate Housewives and Sainsbury’s pepperoni pizza. (As do I). The only category really worthy of scorn is LH – the hallmark of LHness is being able to afford to do better, but choosing not to (or being culpably ignorant of the possibility).
So here is my first attempt to classify some wines (and wine writers) into the four brows. I welcome challenges and challengers to my selections. With any luck this might begin to partner scores and star ratings as a method of assessing wine.
Highbrow Highbrow
Grand Cru Burgundy. Ah, Burgundy. Loftily inaccessible labels, expensive wine the quality of which varies so much that you basically need an MW to even navigate the Burgundy section in any wine shop – but superb, intellectual wine that you probably won’t like the first 50 times you drink it.
Classed Growth Bordeaux (other than First Growth). Current favourites of mine include Ch Leoville-Barton, Ch Cos d’Estournel, Ch Kirwan, Ch d’Armailhac. Same comments as for Burgundy, but at least Bordeaux is more accessible, consistent and immediately likeable. Where are the First Growths? Well, it’s hard to say whether they are HH or LH. It’s probably true that Chateau Latour 1982 is one of the greatest wines ever made, but at over £1000 a bottle (if you can get it) is it really worth the price? How much better can it really be than any of the super-seconds from the same year, at a fraction of the price?
Hungarian Tokay. The thinking man’s sweet wine, that draws quizzical looks when brought to a dinner party but is universally admired once tasted.
Barolo. The king of Italian wines. Difficult to appreciate, but rewards persistence. I once witnessed a conversation about Barolo that I think gives the gist of it: “You know, I just don’t understand Barolo.” “Well, it’s like ‘la la la, I’m riding through a cherry orchard! Oh, there are some roses…’ then getting bashed over the head with an oak plank.”
Vintage Port. If I ever get gout I hope it’s from drinking VP. It takes decades to mature, but when it does, you’ll never be able to look at another bottle of Penfold’s Club Port ever again.
Jancis Robinson MW. Not a wine, but a wine writer – the first woman to get an MW, the first non-wine industry person to get an MW. Her knowledge is unparalleled (if you don’t believe me, go read Vines, Grapes and Wines – they didn’t have Wikipedia when it was published in the 1980s, so she can’t have cheated), her writing accessible, her attitude correct (although far be it for me to even offer my opinion). I’ve been in the same room as her twice. The first time, she brought a 1993 Josephshofer Von Kesselstatt Spätlese Riesling to the OUWC Christmas Tasting, and was my introduction to what is now one of my favourite styles. The second time I got to speak to her. It was after the varsity blind tasting match and I had been awarded a tasting prize so I dared to ask her what my score was. She said “I can’t remember but it can’t have been that bad.” Dismissive, and rightly so.
Lowbrow Highbrow
Penfold’s Grange. Australia’s greatest wine, allegedly. I don’t think so, and I don’t really know any serious wine enthusiast that does. Or at least, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t think that the likes of Rockford Basket Press Shiraz, Mount Langi Ghiran Langi Shiraz, or Cullen Cabernet Merlot don’t equal it, at a fraction of the price. Doubtless, Grange is an excellent shiraz, and historically very important - Max Schubert made it in secret after being told by Penfold's to stop making it after the first vintage. It was a breakthrough wine that proved Australia was capable of producing serious table wine. But these days, with so many other good wines on the market, its price reflects its for show-off value, not the contents of the bottle. Want proof? I once served a bottle of 1971 Grange Hermitage ($1400 a bottle) to a table of Japanese businessmen who ate it with Singapore Noodles, the chilli in which would have ruined any ability to properly taste and appreciate the wine.
Prestige Cuvee Champagne, such as Cristal. The Champenois unashamedly say that they produce these wines for the sake of image and don’t really care that their target purchasers don’t appreciate them. Hubert de Billy of Pol Roger told me once that ‘People want to drink what the rapper drinks, or what Winston Churchill drank’ and that prestige cuvees are made for the ‘money to burn’ set that want the story behind the wine rather than the wine itself. (Indeed Champagne Pommery have just released a champagne in a blue bottle that is claimed to be ‘specially blended to be drunk from the bottle or through a straw’ in order to capitalise on recent media images!) Louis Roederer NV is probably the best NV around, but it is ignored in favour of Louis Roederer Cristal, which, for all the fanfare, isn’t that much better (if it is better at all). Pol Roger Cuvee Sir Winston Churchill wasn’t made until 10 years after its namesake died, so people who drink it because they want to drink what Churchill drank are kidding themselves. It’s a fine drink, let there be no doubt, but why are the excellent vintage champagnes (Pol Roger Vintage is at the same quality level if you ask me, and is the stuff that Churchill actually drank) ignored in favour of prestige cuvees? We can also lump into this bracket the likes of Moet et Chandon NV, which is nowhere near as good as other NVs at or around the same price, like Louis Roederer, Pol Roger, or Billecart Salmon, but that people still drink to feel posh.
Leeuwin Estate Art Series Sauvignon Blanc. Leeuwin Estate Art Series Chardonnay is one of the best Chardonnays produced in Australia. Yet in a restaurant I used to work in, sales of its Sauvignon Blanc far outstripped sales of the Chardonnay, and it is a much worse, much cheaper wine. My theory: the desire for the Art Series label without having to pay the price of the Chardonnay. Unfortunately the Chardonnay is much better than the Sauvignon Blanc, so the prestige doesn’t transfer across. And there are many better Sauvignons for the price (such as virtually any Sancerre or Pouilly Fume).
Anything with a medal on the label. Show medals don’t mean anything. Most people don’t even know that a gold medal does not denote first place at a wine show. It denotes any wine that receives over a certain score in its class. And if that is “Bundanoon Back Yard Tasting Club Class 22 – Chardonnay under $5” then it’s no proud boast. I once examined a bottle resplendent in a gold medal, the medal sticker reading, in 6 point font “Organic” – it wasn’t even a wine show prize medal! If that’s not an attempt to mislead or deceive, than I don’t know what is.
Robert Parker. Sadly the world’s most influential wine writer. Even more sadly, his preference is for overblown, far-too-alcoholic, porty reds. (He regularly gives 100% scores to Barossa Shirazes that I can’t drink more than half a glass of before being under the table). Why must people listen to him so much?
Highbrow Lowbrow
I hope no LH types are reading this – all the good stuff might become popular.
Sherry. Not just ‘dry, medium or sweet’, good sherry is a revelation, and relatively inexpensive. Try a fresh Manzanilla, a nutty Palo Cortado, a rich Oloroso or a delicious sweet Pedro Ximénez from good bodegas like Hidalgo, and you’ll see what I mean.
Virtually all Spanish and Chilean wines. Great quality, supple flavours, some really interesting styles, and reasonable prices.
German Riesling. Still suffering from the image of the likes of Blue Nun and generic Liebfraumilsch, there are some great bargains to be had, even of rare and aged wines. I recently obtained a bottle of 1992 Reinhold Haart Piersporter Goldtropfschen Kabinett Riesling for only £10 and it’s one of the best wines I’ve ever had. (Actually, that wine probably belongs in the HH department).
Beaujolais. Often mocked, but great to drink in summer, and very cheap.
Wines from little-known appellations, particularly in the South of France. This is where it’s all happening. Loads of great stuff is coming out of Provence (tried any Bandol lately?) and the Midi, much interesting and affordable. And then there are the loads of wines that because of the tyranny of the appellation system can’t use words on their labels that would get them loads of customers. Everyone’s heard of Chateauneuf-du-Pape, but not many have tried Lirac, virtually next door, with some excellent producers. Henri Milan ‘Le Grand Blanc’ is a superb wine that is only ‘Vin de Table’ classification. And then you have Cahors, Bergerac – fantastic wines that give Bordeaux a real run for its money.
Mark Shield. The greatest wine (and beer) writer that ever lived. He never spat when judging wine, even if faced with a bracket of 100 shirazes. For that he earned the nickname ‘dry bucket’. What a man.
Lowbrow Lowbrow
Well, I could go on for ever here, about virtually any wine under $10. But I single some out for particular attention.
Fetzer Coldwater Creek. I don’t just mention this wine because it is the first wine to be served ‘on tap’ like beer from JD Wetherspoon pubs. You could, theoretically, put good wine on tap, but as a rule of thumb, the more a vessel deviates from a 750mL capacity, the worse its contents. On that scale, a 115 litre keg foreshadows a dismal beverage. This is truly awful stuff. I made a New Year’s Resolution about 4 years ago to never drink bad alcohol ever again. I’ve only breached it a few times, but one of the most memorable of them was when I was served this wine at a recent university function. I only had the red (I think it’s a Cabernet/Shiraz blend). God it’s dreadful. It tastes of metal, beer and tomato sauce. Truly disgusting.
Golden Oak Sherry. This drink is very close to my heart. I used to use it for cooking if I couldn’t get rice wine. A friend of mine and I calculated that it is the cheapest drink available in a Sydney bottle shop, coming out at about $0.36 per standard drink.
Monday, 9 July 2007
Friday, 6 July 2007
Chile – it’s not just empanadas and genocide any more
Think ‘Chile’ and what is the first thing that springs to mind? Legendary pianist Claudio Arrau? Legendary poet Pablo Neruda? Legendary génocidaire Augusto Pinochet? Well, no longer! Step forward a new great Chilean – legendary red grape Carmenère!
As is now well known, Carmenère is an obscure Bordeaux grape that was exported to Chile and thought for a long, long time to be Merlot. Lo, the ampelographers came forth and, in a style not unlike a Scooby-Doo cartoon in which that nice little-old lady’s mask is ripped off to reveal a bandit underneath, showed that the vine’s DNA matched Carmenère, not Merlot.
Well, now it is a regional speciality. ‘Regional speciality’ is one of these terms that to sceptics (myself included) often carries an implication of ‘So you’re a country that can’t grow decent cabernet sauvignon? Here – try this grape that nobody else wants and you might be able to market yourself on novelty value.’ (Don’t believe me? Well, go and try a South African Cinsaut or an Algerian Carignan and tell me I’m wrong). But Carmenère is not at a regional speciality in that sense. It’s more a regional speciality in the sense of ‘you wish you could grow your own grape this well, France’ accompanied by a two-finger salute – Like Hunter Valley Semillon, or certain Marlborough Sauvignons.
Anyway, I tried an absolutely superb Carmenere the other night at a restaurant in Surry Hills called Bodega (which I recommend in its own right. Its wine list contains only wines from Spain and South America. Hurrah! Sydney has waited too long for a restaurant that doesn’t treat foreign wines as novelties. I’m all for low food-miles and ‘showcasing’ domestic wines, but really, how many McLaren Vale shirazes can I drink in 6 weeks?) The wine is Perez Cruz Reserva Limited Release Carmenère (Maipo Valley). Ripe, freshly cut red capsicum on the nose, with leather, leaves, ink, woodsmoke and coal. The palate is an exercise in elegance (especially for a wine of 14.5% alcohol, which I simply don’t believe, as the alcohol is not obvious): soft plummy fruit, blackcurrant, almost imperceptible acid and fine tannins. An absolute triumph.
While I’m at it I will mention the Cardenal Cisneros Pedro Ximenez Sherry that I ordered for afters, if only to show my old flatmate and his new flatmate (with whom I was dining) that Sherry can be fantastic. The old flatmate’s new flatmate (let’s call him Darren, since that is his name) is a chef and came out with this – cinnamon, orange zest, raisin, treacle, coffee; and I agree. The palate is rich and sweet with a distinctive coffee-bean finish.
As is now well known, Carmenère is an obscure Bordeaux grape that was exported to Chile and thought for a long, long time to be Merlot. Lo, the ampelographers came forth and, in a style not unlike a Scooby-Doo cartoon in which that nice little-old lady’s mask is ripped off to reveal a bandit underneath, showed that the vine’s DNA matched Carmenère, not Merlot.
Well, now it is a regional speciality. ‘Regional speciality’ is one of these terms that to sceptics (myself included) often carries an implication of ‘So you’re a country that can’t grow decent cabernet sauvignon? Here – try this grape that nobody else wants and you might be able to market yourself on novelty value.’ (Don’t believe me? Well, go and try a South African Cinsaut or an Algerian Carignan and tell me I’m wrong). But Carmenère is not at a regional speciality in that sense. It’s more a regional speciality in the sense of ‘you wish you could grow your own grape this well, France’ accompanied by a two-finger salute – Like Hunter Valley Semillon, or certain Marlborough Sauvignons.
Anyway, I tried an absolutely superb Carmenere the other night at a restaurant in Surry Hills called Bodega (which I recommend in its own right. Its wine list contains only wines from Spain and South America. Hurrah! Sydney has waited too long for a restaurant that doesn’t treat foreign wines as novelties. I’m all for low food-miles and ‘showcasing’ domestic wines, but really, how many McLaren Vale shirazes can I drink in 6 weeks?) The wine is Perez Cruz Reserva Limited Release Carmenère (Maipo Valley). Ripe, freshly cut red capsicum on the nose, with leather, leaves, ink, woodsmoke and coal. The palate is an exercise in elegance (especially for a wine of 14.5% alcohol, which I simply don’t believe, as the alcohol is not obvious): soft plummy fruit, blackcurrant, almost imperceptible acid and fine tannins. An absolute triumph.
While I’m at it I will mention the Cardenal Cisneros Pedro Ximenez Sherry that I ordered for afters, if only to show my old flatmate and his new flatmate (with whom I was dining) that Sherry can be fantastic. The old flatmate’s new flatmate (let’s call him Darren, since that is his name) is a chef and came out with this – cinnamon, orange zest, raisin, treacle, coffee; and I agree. The palate is rich and sweet with a distinctive coffee-bean finish.
Thursday, 5 July 2007
Planet of the Grapes post no 2
My remaining notes from the (not so) recent Planet of the Grapes tasting, in order from good to bad:
2004 Kientzler Reserve Riesling (Alsace) (£14.50)
Relatively closed nose of minerals and lime. Palate very minerally, wet coal, nice, tight acidity.
2005 Max Ferd Richter Mosel Riesling (£11.50)
Very restrained, closed nose. Palate bursts forth with lime/lemonade flavours but really with insufficient acidity. Nic thought it was ‘like flat lemonade’ and I’m inclined to agee.
2005 Domaine Boisset Bourgogne Blanc (£11)
Ripe Chardonnay nose. Peaches and cream. Creamy palate, very well made in a ‘New World’ style but ultimately not a wine of character.
2006 Isabel Estate Marlborough Riesling (£11.50)
I’m not enamoured with New Zealand Riesling. Isabel Estate is one of the best producers in Marlborough and not even they can get it together, at well above the price at which you can get some very worthwhile German wines. Lively lime/orange sherbet nose leading to a lime lolly palate, a bit of a train wreck actually, burnt orange on the finish. Starts German, ends Australian.
2003 Botalcura ‘La Porfia’ Camenere Reserva (Chile) (£10)
Roast capsicum on nose, but alcoholic. Soft fruit, easy drinking, with an ink/charcoal dimension.
2004 Luigi Bosca Reserve Malbec (Argentina) (£10)
Very dark. Purple fruit, southern Rhonish. Palate is dense, liquoricy, alcoholic.
2005 Chermette Fleurie ‘Poncie’ (£13)
Confected yet concentrated nose showing dark jammy fruit. Palate shows fresh bubble-gummy character. A rather serious attempt, but then again so was Dohnanyi’s ‘Variations on a Nursery Theme’.
2005 Marques de Murrieta Capellania Rioja Blanco (£11.50)
Spicy nose, not as aggressive as it could be. Oxidised sherry smell. Chippy palate, salty, sherryish.
2006 Falesco Valpolicella (£8)
This is where Valpolicella gets its terrible reputation. No wonder they invented Amarone. Cheap cherry liqueur bubblegum nose, straight forward lolly-ish palate with a bit of vanilla. Uninteresting.
2003 Keerweder Pinotage (£9.50)
Stinky nose of tar and rusty nails. Aggressive palate, some coffee hints. Horrible.
2004 Kientzler Reserve Riesling (Alsace) (£14.50)
Relatively closed nose of minerals and lime. Palate very minerally, wet coal, nice, tight acidity.
2005 Max Ferd Richter Mosel Riesling (£11.50)
Very restrained, closed nose. Palate bursts forth with lime/lemonade flavours but really with insufficient acidity. Nic thought it was ‘like flat lemonade’ and I’m inclined to agee.
2005 Domaine Boisset Bourgogne Blanc (£11)
Ripe Chardonnay nose. Peaches and cream. Creamy palate, very well made in a ‘New World’ style but ultimately not a wine of character.
2006 Isabel Estate Marlborough Riesling (£11.50)
I’m not enamoured with New Zealand Riesling. Isabel Estate is one of the best producers in Marlborough and not even they can get it together, at well above the price at which you can get some very worthwhile German wines. Lively lime/orange sherbet nose leading to a lime lolly palate, a bit of a train wreck actually, burnt orange on the finish. Starts German, ends Australian.
2003 Botalcura ‘La Porfia’ Camenere Reserva (Chile) (£10)
Roast capsicum on nose, but alcoholic. Soft fruit, easy drinking, with an ink/charcoal dimension.
2004 Luigi Bosca Reserve Malbec (Argentina) (£10)
Very dark. Purple fruit, southern Rhonish. Palate is dense, liquoricy, alcoholic.
2005 Chermette Fleurie ‘Poncie’ (£13)
Confected yet concentrated nose showing dark jammy fruit. Palate shows fresh bubble-gummy character. A rather serious attempt, but then again so was Dohnanyi’s ‘Variations on a Nursery Theme’.
2005 Marques de Murrieta Capellania Rioja Blanco (£11.50)
Spicy nose, not as aggressive as it could be. Oxidised sherry smell. Chippy palate, salty, sherryish.
2006 Falesco Valpolicella (£8)
This is where Valpolicella gets its terrible reputation. No wonder they invented Amarone. Cheap cherry liqueur bubblegum nose, straight forward lolly-ish palate with a bit of vanilla. Uninteresting.
2003 Keerweder Pinotage (£9.50)
Stinky nose of tar and rusty nails. Aggressive palate, some coffee hints. Horrible.
Friday, 15 June 2007
Planet of the Grapes post no 1
OK, after a long time typing up my notes from the scores of wines tasted at the Planet of the Grapes tasting last week I am finally ready to release my opinions to the public. Originally my plan was to present my complete and unabridged notes. However I am not a professional taster (if only) and so, after about 40 wines my concentration began to wane (along with my ability to write) and I don’t think that my readers would be greatly assisted by the resultant notes, which consisted of incisive remarks such as “minrmmmly/chooolfm…dog” and “orly +? shiraz?” together with smears of bodily fluids.
So instead of being prolific but boring (like the Etudes of Czerny), I propose to present two smaller batches of hopefully worthwhile notes (like the Etudes of Chopin). The first, contained herein, is called “interesting and different” and comprises notes of those wines that, rather obviously, I either found particularly interesting or were made from different or unusual grape varieties. A further post will follow with my notes of other wines that I simply found to be of high quality or value or otherwise worthy of comment.
And here they are:
2006 Domaine Felines Jourdan Picpoul de Pinet (£9)
I had never tasted a varietal Picpoul before, the grape being known to me only as one of the permitted whites in Chateauneuf du Pape. The guy behind the counter described it as being ‘real peasant’s wine’ (‘peasant’ being a compliment these days in certain circles), so I will start drinking it regularly once I buy a beret and take up backgammon. Austere nose of slate, armpit and grape fruit. Palate shows hay, grape fruit, moderate acid and a lingering sappiness/greenness. Worthwhile.
2006 Nautilus Pinot Gris (Marlborough, NZ) (£14.50)
There is a real dispute as to whether Pinot Gris smells of ‘pork fat’. James Simpson MW thinks it does, and he’s an MW so his opinion is probably valid. I have found it less helpful as a descriptor, but this wine really does have a pork fat/pork scratchings nose, together with the poirewilliam/pear drops more commonly associated with Pinot Gris. Unfortunately I had already lost credibility as a taster with the guy behind the counter because I had described a 2005 Pazo Senorans Albarino (Spain) (£12) as smelling like pork fat and nacho cheese flavour Doritos. So he did not accept my pork fat comment. (You really have to earn respect at ‘public’ tastings. At ‘trade’ tastings they assume you know what you’re talking about – at public tastings it’s quite the opposite, and usually for good reason. Still, it annoys me). He insisted instead that this Pinot Gris had a ginger and lemon tea dimension to the nose, which I’ll allow. In any case the wine has a zesty entry, with green pears, a bit of hay, and a soft lingering finish with even a hint of parsley. Perfect for Chinese food/noodle dishes. (Incidentally the Albarino DID smell of Doritos, at least initially, with hay, chorizo, and olives on the nose. The palate is all lemons and melons with a rather short finish).
2005 Jean Daneel Signature Chenin Blanc (South Africa) (£20)
I’ve already noted this wine elsewhere, but it was showing particularly well today – in fact I would say it was the best white wine of the tasting. Golden yellow – dried apples, pears, caramel and vanilla on the nose. Palate shows honey, caramel, sandalwood. Rich, lots of finesse, no corners. A small percentage of botrytis affected grapes is included in the blend, to great effect. This wine is definitely going in the ‘wines I pull out for wine lovers’ box. (One MUST have interesting things of high quality in reserve for one’s wine loving friends. Interest alone is insufficient – they also have to be good wines. If you start bringing Bulgarian Traminer to tastings you will get a reputation for stinginess that is hard to shed…)
2005 J Lohr ‘Wildflower’ Valdigue (USA) (£10)
Valdigue is pretty common in the Midi, apparently, but the only reason they grow it in the US is that they thought they were growing Gamay for decades before ampelographers told them otherwise. A bit like learning that the ‘original’ Rembrandt on your wall is actually a fake. Still, it shouldn’t matter if the quality of the wine produced is good. The wine has rhubarb, red fruit and boiled lolly characters on the nose, and slightly vegetal hint. There is some Cottee’s strawberry jam on the entry with some sweetness. (For my UK readers, Cottee’s is a very mainstream Australian brand of cordial and jam, one step up from Home Brand products. Only one step up though – still lots of sugar). An interesting one off, but too sugary and confected for my liking.
2004 Cline ‘Small Berry’ Mourvedre (USA) (£21.50)
It is not usual to find an American attempt at a wine that is more subtle than its French equivalent. Usually US wines are a bit like the Canyonero – 12 yards long, two lanes wide, 65 tons of American pride. Loads of coffee, spearmint, eucalypt and anise on the nose. Palate shows loads of black fruit, intense, liquoricy. Supple but firm tannin finish. A big wine, let there be no doubt, but not as black and gothic as some Bandols I’ve had.
2004 Ridge Lytton Springs Zinfandel (USA) (£25)
A really serious attempt at Zinfandel here. Liquorice, black jelly babies on the nose, with something fruity like fibrous peach or peach stones. Thick, fruity palate, very supple, almost no discernible acid or tannin on the finish. Zin isn’t really my cup of tea, but this is as serious as they come.
So instead of being prolific but boring (like the Etudes of Czerny), I propose to present two smaller batches of hopefully worthwhile notes (like the Etudes of Chopin). The first, contained herein, is called “interesting and different” and comprises notes of those wines that, rather obviously, I either found particularly interesting or were made from different or unusual grape varieties. A further post will follow with my notes of other wines that I simply found to be of high quality or value or otherwise worthy of comment.
And here they are:
2006 Domaine Felines Jourdan Picpoul de Pinet (£9)
I had never tasted a varietal Picpoul before, the grape being known to me only as one of the permitted whites in Chateauneuf du Pape. The guy behind the counter described it as being ‘real peasant’s wine’ (‘peasant’ being a compliment these days in certain circles), so I will start drinking it regularly once I buy a beret and take up backgammon. Austere nose of slate, armpit and grape fruit. Palate shows hay, grape fruit, moderate acid and a lingering sappiness/greenness. Worthwhile.
2006 Nautilus Pinot Gris (Marlborough, NZ) (£14.50)
There is a real dispute as to whether Pinot Gris smells of ‘pork fat’. James Simpson MW thinks it does, and he’s an MW so his opinion is probably valid. I have found it less helpful as a descriptor, but this wine really does have a pork fat/pork scratchings nose, together with the poirewilliam/pear drops more commonly associated with Pinot Gris. Unfortunately I had already lost credibility as a taster with the guy behind the counter because I had described a 2005 Pazo Senorans Albarino (Spain) (£12) as smelling like pork fat and nacho cheese flavour Doritos. So he did not accept my pork fat comment. (You really have to earn respect at ‘public’ tastings. At ‘trade’ tastings they assume you know what you’re talking about – at public tastings it’s quite the opposite, and usually for good reason. Still, it annoys me). He insisted instead that this Pinot Gris had a ginger and lemon tea dimension to the nose, which I’ll allow. In any case the wine has a zesty entry, with green pears, a bit of hay, and a soft lingering finish with even a hint of parsley. Perfect for Chinese food/noodle dishes. (Incidentally the Albarino DID smell of Doritos, at least initially, with hay, chorizo, and olives on the nose. The palate is all lemons and melons with a rather short finish).
2005 Jean Daneel Signature Chenin Blanc (South Africa) (£20)
I’ve already noted this wine elsewhere, but it was showing particularly well today – in fact I would say it was the best white wine of the tasting. Golden yellow – dried apples, pears, caramel and vanilla on the nose. Palate shows honey, caramel, sandalwood. Rich, lots of finesse, no corners. A small percentage of botrytis affected grapes is included in the blend, to great effect. This wine is definitely going in the ‘wines I pull out for wine lovers’ box. (One MUST have interesting things of high quality in reserve for one’s wine loving friends. Interest alone is insufficient – they also have to be good wines. If you start bringing Bulgarian Traminer to tastings you will get a reputation for stinginess that is hard to shed…)
2005 J Lohr ‘Wildflower’ Valdigue (USA) (£10)
Valdigue is pretty common in the Midi, apparently, but the only reason they grow it in the US is that they thought they were growing Gamay for decades before ampelographers told them otherwise. A bit like learning that the ‘original’ Rembrandt on your wall is actually a fake. Still, it shouldn’t matter if the quality of the wine produced is good. The wine has rhubarb, red fruit and boiled lolly characters on the nose, and slightly vegetal hint. There is some Cottee’s strawberry jam on the entry with some sweetness. (For my UK readers, Cottee’s is a very mainstream Australian brand of cordial and jam, one step up from Home Brand products. Only one step up though – still lots of sugar). An interesting one off, but too sugary and confected for my liking.
2004 Cline ‘Small Berry’ Mourvedre (USA) (£21.50)
It is not usual to find an American attempt at a wine that is more subtle than its French equivalent. Usually US wines are a bit like the Canyonero – 12 yards long, two lanes wide, 65 tons of American pride. Loads of coffee, spearmint, eucalypt and anise on the nose. Palate shows loads of black fruit, intense, liquoricy. Supple but firm tannin finish. A big wine, let there be no doubt, but not as black and gothic as some Bandols I’ve had.
2004 Ridge Lytton Springs Zinfandel (USA) (£25)
A really serious attempt at Zinfandel here. Liquorice, black jelly babies on the nose, with something fruity like fibrous peach or peach stones. Thick, fruity palate, very supple, almost no discernible acid or tannin on the finish. Zin isn’t really my cup of tea, but this is as serious as they come.
Monday, 4 June 2007
Wines from the Magdalen College cellar
Not everybody is lucky enough to have a boyfriend in the SCR at Magdalen College Oxford, and therefore vicarious access to that institution’s vast cellar, the contents of which are available to the lucky few at insanely low prices.
But I am, so I might as well write a few notes about what I have been drinking from there over the last term.
But first, a rant about the ridiculous glassware that one is expected to drink from when dining (on the High Table, no less!) We are talking here about a college with an endowment of £116 million. A place with its own deer park and constitutionally mandated chapel choir. A place where water at dinner is served in hand engraved, double handled, 19th century silver tankards; and which has a designated common room the sole purpose of which is to eat fruit after dinner in Summer only. (There’s a different room for Winter). A place where coffee is drunk in one room on Thursday but a different one on Sunday.
This place is so oozing in wealth that I at least expected the wine to be served in Riedel ‘Sommeliers’ series lead crystal glasses, and even half expected each person at dinner to have his or her own personal butler to recline each chair back and pour the wine into our mouths to save us the hassle of tilting our heads.
But no. Instead of good stemware, or even the modest but functional Luigi Bormioli large ISO glasses (which come in at about £2), which are totally acceptable budget glasses, one has to drink from a shitty thick glass goblet that not even Argos sells, and that would be more at home in a JD Weatherspoon pub after they’ve run out of glasses on Curry Club Thursday. And to make things worse they serve the white wine in Champagne flutes! This might seem like pedantry, but when you’re serving something as worthy of appreciation as aged Grand Cru Alsace Riesling, or Premier Cru red Burgundy, it is disgraceful to put it into a vessel that (for various reasons) decreases one’s ability to enjoy the beverage and that would be more accustomed to receiving box wine or West Coast Cooler.
2005 Isabel Estate Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough, NZ)
Just when I was becoming disenamoured with Marlborough Sauvignon, on account of so many of them being so aggressively herbaceous, this one restores my faith. It is at the very tropical end of the spectrum – zesty nose of passion fruit and lime sherbert (Almost Mosel-like!), lean, clean palate with a slightly herbal dimension and crisp acidity. A very energetic, fresh, lively wine.
1996 Zind Humbrecht Wintzenheim Riesling (Alsace)
I don’t often think of Riesling as being ‘big’. But this wine is very big. Deep gold. (I was slightly late to dinner on this day on account of some idiot crashing their car on the M40 meaning that the Oxford Espress had to use an A road, making the journey last about 3 hours. Anyway, in my absence, my dining companions were slightly worried that there might be something ‘wrong’ with the wine, because it was ‘so yellow’, as Stefanie put it. No, no. The wine is very right indeed). Intense mouth- and eye-watering lemon juice on the nose, slightly sweet, sherberty entry, major minerality/steeliness on the mid palate, finishing tight, austere and chalky. Still incredibly youthful.
2003 Domaine Vacheron Sancerre
Red Sancerre. A pretty ordinary proposition I’m afraid (I didn’t order it). A certain blackcurrant leafiness to it, but all in all just a bit too thin, green and under-ripe for my taste.
1993 Domaine Rion Chambolle Musigny ‘Les Cras’
A very agreeable red Burgundy. Perfumed nose of lavender, redcurrants, dried cherries and leather. Palate follows through – flavours seamlessly integrated, subtle, pure. Good balance between fruit and secondary characters. I don’t like my Burgundy that old, to be honest (sacre-bleu!) and I think this wine is probably about as old as I would want it. Mid-palate fades away a little bit but it’s beautifully supple and elegant.
1998 Chateau Potensac (Medoc, Cru Bourgeois Exceptionnel)
Utterly exemplary claret. Integrated nose of blackcurrants, cedar wood and cigar box, following through onto a very smooth, supple palate, warm mouthfeel, ripe tannins.
2002 Samos Grand Cru Muscat
In the dessert room they send the bloody wine around in carafes so one has no idea what it is (there being no printed menu). Good blind tasting practice though. I thought this was a Muscat de Beaumes de Venise, being such a competent expression of the flowery Muscat Blanc a Petit Grains. But I sneaked a look at the label before I left and was quite surprised that this was a Greek wine of the same grape variety. Fresh, fragrant, with that agreeable oily/bitter finish that Muscat has. I thought it was great. I even resisted the temptation to correct everyone who had been calling it ‘Sauternes’ (which is just SO wrong, on so many levels). People think anything sweet and white is ‘Sauternes’ (little learning being dangerous and all that). Perhaps a rant for another day.
But I am, so I might as well write a few notes about what I have been drinking from there over the last term.
But first, a rant about the ridiculous glassware that one is expected to drink from when dining (on the High Table, no less!) We are talking here about a college with an endowment of £116 million. A place with its own deer park and constitutionally mandated chapel choir. A place where water at dinner is served in hand engraved, double handled, 19th century silver tankards; and which has a designated common room the sole purpose of which is to eat fruit after dinner in Summer only. (There’s a different room for Winter). A place where coffee is drunk in one room on Thursday but a different one on Sunday.
This place is so oozing in wealth that I at least expected the wine to be served in Riedel ‘Sommeliers’ series lead crystal glasses, and even half expected each person at dinner to have his or her own personal butler to recline each chair back and pour the wine into our mouths to save us the hassle of tilting our heads.
But no. Instead of good stemware, or even the modest but functional Luigi Bormioli large ISO glasses (which come in at about £2), which are totally acceptable budget glasses, one has to drink from a shitty thick glass goblet that not even Argos sells, and that would be more at home in a JD Weatherspoon pub after they’ve run out of glasses on Curry Club Thursday. And to make things worse they serve the white wine in Champagne flutes! This might seem like pedantry, but when you’re serving something as worthy of appreciation as aged Grand Cru Alsace Riesling, or Premier Cru red Burgundy, it is disgraceful to put it into a vessel that (for various reasons) decreases one’s ability to enjoy the beverage and that would be more accustomed to receiving box wine or West Coast Cooler.
2005 Isabel Estate Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough, NZ)
Just when I was becoming disenamoured with Marlborough Sauvignon, on account of so many of them being so aggressively herbaceous, this one restores my faith. It is at the very tropical end of the spectrum – zesty nose of passion fruit and lime sherbert (Almost Mosel-like!), lean, clean palate with a slightly herbal dimension and crisp acidity. A very energetic, fresh, lively wine.
1996 Zind Humbrecht Wintzenheim Riesling (Alsace)
I don’t often think of Riesling as being ‘big’. But this wine is very big. Deep gold. (I was slightly late to dinner on this day on account of some idiot crashing their car on the M40 meaning that the Oxford Espress had to use an A road, making the journey last about 3 hours. Anyway, in my absence, my dining companions were slightly worried that there might be something ‘wrong’ with the wine, because it was ‘so yellow’, as Stefanie put it. No, no. The wine is very right indeed). Intense mouth- and eye-watering lemon juice on the nose, slightly sweet, sherberty entry, major minerality/steeliness on the mid palate, finishing tight, austere and chalky. Still incredibly youthful.
2003 Domaine Vacheron Sancerre
Red Sancerre. A pretty ordinary proposition I’m afraid (I didn’t order it). A certain blackcurrant leafiness to it, but all in all just a bit too thin, green and under-ripe for my taste.
1993 Domaine Rion Chambolle Musigny ‘Les Cras’
A very agreeable red Burgundy. Perfumed nose of lavender, redcurrants, dried cherries and leather. Palate follows through – flavours seamlessly integrated, subtle, pure. Good balance between fruit and secondary characters. I don’t like my Burgundy that old, to be honest (sacre-bleu!) and I think this wine is probably about as old as I would want it. Mid-palate fades away a little bit but it’s beautifully supple and elegant.
1998 Chateau Potensac (Medoc, Cru Bourgeois Exceptionnel)
Utterly exemplary claret. Integrated nose of blackcurrants, cedar wood and cigar box, following through onto a very smooth, supple palate, warm mouthfeel, ripe tannins.
2002 Samos Grand Cru Muscat
In the dessert room they send the bloody wine around in carafes so one has no idea what it is (there being no printed menu). Good blind tasting practice though. I thought this was a Muscat de Beaumes de Venise, being such a competent expression of the flowery Muscat Blanc a Petit Grains. But I sneaked a look at the label before I left and was quite surprised that this was a Greek wine of the same grape variety. Fresh, fragrant, with that agreeable oily/bitter finish that Muscat has. I thought it was great. I even resisted the temptation to correct everyone who had been calling it ‘Sauternes’ (which is just SO wrong, on so many levels). People think anything sweet and white is ‘Sauternes’ (little learning being dangerous and all that). Perhaps a rant for another day.
Monday, 28 May 2007
Lincoln's Inn Loire Valley & Bordeaux tasting
When you go to a wine show, the last thing you want to do is give your honest opinion of a bad wine to the exhibitor’s face. Usually exhibitors make you taste your way through a forest of appalling lesser wines – usually their ‘unwooded Chardonnay’ (code for ‘we’re pricing this at £2 so we can’t afford oak barrels’), or their ‘unique’ Riesling-Viognier blend (code for ‘it’s much easier to offload one badly made wine than two’), or their ‘barbecue Rosé’ ‘for drinking rather than thinking’ according to the pamphlet – before they let you loose on the good stuff.
Accordingly it is wise counsel for the amateur, if he doesn’t want to lie outright or attract the exhibitor's ire in the form of a glass to the face or a corkscrew to the bottom, to at least cloak his true opinion in apparently complimentary terms. I learnt this lesson very quickly after describing a 1991 Chateau Pichon Lalande as 'stinking like a public toilet' to one of the chateau's reps direct from France, and we all know how the Bordelais take such comments. I had to move hemispheres before I was able to blag my way back into a Bordeaux trade tasting, and have shut the hell up ever since. So when Cookie told me at yesterday’s Loire Valley tasting in our living room that the 2004 Domaine de la Cotellaraie St-Nicolas-de-Bourgueil (£8) ‘stank of farts and poo’ I quickly reminded her that in wine parlance we would prefer her to say it ‘had a wild, untamed earthy nose of barnyard and truffles’.
In the wine’s defence, the initial bottle stink went away after a couple of hours and in my opinion was one of the standouts of the tasting. The nose ended up developing a rich fruitcaky character, the palate following through with dried fruits, pepper and a ripe tannin finish.
Here are my notes for the rest of the stuff we tasted yesterday.
First a pair of Muscadets. 2005 Chais de la Grange Muscadet (£5) was pretty much par for the course – soft nose of white fruits, a little salty and yeasty, with a prickly finish on the tongue. Not at all interesting, but textbook in style. Ruth didn’t think it really smelt of anything, which is probably right. Beside it, a 2005 Le Vieux Chai Muscadet Sèvre et Maine ‘Sur Lie’ (£5), which was not showing at its best. Ruth noticed an unattractive, solvent/glue note on the nose – others thought it was like aniseed (Adam), pear drop ester (Andrew) and bananas (Bobby). Not particularly pleasant at all. Crowd reaction: boring.
Then a pair of Sauvignon Blancs – one Sancerre, one Pouilly-Fumé. Personally I’d like some definitive guidance on what the stylistic differences are between these two regions. The World Atlas of Wine (5th edn) says that ‘The best of each are on the same level; the Sancerre perhaps slightly fuller and more obvious, the Pouilly-Fumé more perfumed.’ In complete contradiction Roger Voss’s Wines of the Loire, Alsace and the Rhone says of Pouilly-Fumé ‘the wines tend to be fuller, higher in alcohol, richer and longer lasting than white Sancerre, but sometimes lack the initial crisp fruit.’ So go figure. 2005 Domaine Daniel Crochet Sancerre (£10) is perhaps a more restrained, closed example of the style. Evident alcoholic heat on the nose, followed by white fruits and only faint hints of the grassy, herbaceous character of the grape. The palate is light bodied, with a hint of orange and decent acidity. The 2004 Domaine Cailbourdin Pouilly-Fumé ‘Les Cris’ (£9) on the other hand is a pungent bastard – celery salt, herbs, cut grass, tomato leaves, wet slate, gun smoke. ‘Acidy plant smell’ according to Neil. Palate follows in the extracted herbaceous vein, with citrus and mint in the mix, finishing with really high, persistent acid. Personally I preferred it over the Sancerre, but I was in the minority – the crowd generally preferred the more restrained Sancerre.
And finally in the white department a pair Chenin Blancs from Savennières. 2004 des Forges ‘Clos du Papillon’ (£11) I’ve already noted elsewhere, but was really showing at its best with its opulent honeycomb/chocolate nose, fat, floral, sandalwood palate and chalky finish. The 2004 Chateau Pierre-Bise ‘Clos de Coulaine’ (£10) was also impressive. Golden colour, nose of red apples, sandalwood and honey. The palate entry is slightly sweetish, with honeycomb and heather characters and finishing very dry with very high acid. Crowd reaction: bouquets.
The red bracket began with a Gamay – 2005 Domaine St Nicolas ‘Les Gammes en May’ (£7). I’ve tried this wine a few times now and I’m afraid I don’t like it. The colour is a bright lustrous purple, but the nose is brackish and dank. The palate is a bit tingly, with red cordial and boiled lolly characters, but these fade behind a bitter, green flinty character. Crowd reaction: If my pet made this smell I’d send it outside.
Then two jolly decent Cabernet Francs. The 2004 Domaine Wilfred Rousse Chinon 'Les Galuches' (£8) is mid red with a purple tinge. Nose is metallic (Cookie – ‘like staples’) with charcoal hints, blackcurrant, raisin and tomato leaves. The palate is supple and round, with soft ripe plums, jam, and cherry pie, with a tight minerally finish. Well structured. And the Domaine de la Cotellaraie I’ve already noted at the beginning of this post. Crowd reaction: varied, from ‘farts and poo’ through to ‘pretty promising, actually’.
Strictly this was supposed to be a Loire tasting, but I decided to throw in a few Merlot-based Bordeaux blends for variety’s sake and because you just can’t find that many interesting Loire reds in one’s local High Street retailer (and I’m not yet prolific enough to have Chateaux throw free wine at me for my opinion).
So, first was 2001 Chateau Barrabaque (Canon Fronsac) (£16). The nose is dominated by cedar wood and vanilla, with almost no fruit showing, and is far from integrated. The full bodied palate is still tight, finishing with ripe tannins. A few years yet before it will be showing at its best. This was followed by 2000 Chateau Franc La Rose (St Emilion) (£16), which was very promising on the nose – fruitcake, mint, generous dried fruits and beginning to integrate very well. Unfortunately the palate delivered less what the nose promised, and is ungenerously minerally, with river water streaks and even fish (Andrew). The 2003 Chateau Preuillac (Medoc Cru Bourgeois) (£13) was showing the best of the Bordeaux reds. Generous chocolate and coffee aromas, with a ripe palate of blackcurrant and black cherries and soft ripe tannins on the finish. Very 2003 with its amplified fruit and ‘baked’ character. Crowd reaction: flat patch bullies – Bordeaux will always taste superior when following Loire Cabernet Francs.
As has become my custom, we finished with a crowd pleasing sweet wine – 2003 Chateau Pierre-Bise Coteaux du Layon Beaulieu ‘Clos de la Soucherie’. Dried apples and honeycomb on the nose, palate is fresh but ultra-sweet, finishing dry and chalky.
Accordingly it is wise counsel for the amateur, if he doesn’t want to lie outright or attract the exhibitor's ire in the form of a glass to the face or a corkscrew to the bottom, to at least cloak his true opinion in apparently complimentary terms. I learnt this lesson very quickly after describing a 1991 Chateau Pichon Lalande as 'stinking like a public toilet' to one of the chateau's reps direct from France, and we all know how the Bordelais take such comments. I had to move hemispheres before I was able to blag my way back into a Bordeaux trade tasting, and have shut the hell up ever since. So when Cookie told me at yesterday’s Loire Valley tasting in our living room that the 2004 Domaine de la Cotellaraie St-Nicolas-de-Bourgueil (£8) ‘stank of farts and poo’ I quickly reminded her that in wine parlance we would prefer her to say it ‘had a wild, untamed earthy nose of barnyard and truffles’.
In the wine’s defence, the initial bottle stink went away after a couple of hours and in my opinion was one of the standouts of the tasting. The nose ended up developing a rich fruitcaky character, the palate following through with dried fruits, pepper and a ripe tannin finish.
Here are my notes for the rest of the stuff we tasted yesterday.
First a pair of Muscadets. 2005 Chais de la Grange Muscadet (£5) was pretty much par for the course – soft nose of white fruits, a little salty and yeasty, with a prickly finish on the tongue. Not at all interesting, but textbook in style. Ruth didn’t think it really smelt of anything, which is probably right. Beside it, a 2005 Le Vieux Chai Muscadet Sèvre et Maine ‘Sur Lie’ (£5), which was not showing at its best. Ruth noticed an unattractive, solvent/glue note on the nose – others thought it was like aniseed (Adam), pear drop ester (Andrew) and bananas (Bobby). Not particularly pleasant at all. Crowd reaction: boring.
Then a pair of Sauvignon Blancs – one Sancerre, one Pouilly-Fumé. Personally I’d like some definitive guidance on what the stylistic differences are between these two regions. The World Atlas of Wine (5th edn) says that ‘The best of each are on the same level; the Sancerre perhaps slightly fuller and more obvious, the Pouilly-Fumé more perfumed.’ In complete contradiction Roger Voss’s Wines of the Loire, Alsace and the Rhone says of Pouilly-Fumé ‘the wines tend to be fuller, higher in alcohol, richer and longer lasting than white Sancerre, but sometimes lack the initial crisp fruit.’ So go figure. 2005 Domaine Daniel Crochet Sancerre (£10) is perhaps a more restrained, closed example of the style. Evident alcoholic heat on the nose, followed by white fruits and only faint hints of the grassy, herbaceous character of the grape. The palate is light bodied, with a hint of orange and decent acidity. The 2004 Domaine Cailbourdin Pouilly-Fumé ‘Les Cris’ (£9) on the other hand is a pungent bastard – celery salt, herbs, cut grass, tomato leaves, wet slate, gun smoke. ‘Acidy plant smell’ according to Neil. Palate follows in the extracted herbaceous vein, with citrus and mint in the mix, finishing with really high, persistent acid. Personally I preferred it over the Sancerre, but I was in the minority – the crowd generally preferred the more restrained Sancerre.
And finally in the white department a pair Chenin Blancs from Savennières. 2004 des Forges ‘Clos du Papillon’ (£11) I’ve already noted elsewhere, but was really showing at its best with its opulent honeycomb/chocolate nose, fat, floral, sandalwood palate and chalky finish. The 2004 Chateau Pierre-Bise ‘Clos de Coulaine’ (£10) was also impressive. Golden colour, nose of red apples, sandalwood and honey. The palate entry is slightly sweetish, with honeycomb and heather characters and finishing very dry with very high acid. Crowd reaction: bouquets.
The red bracket began with a Gamay – 2005 Domaine St Nicolas ‘Les Gammes en May’ (£7). I’ve tried this wine a few times now and I’m afraid I don’t like it. The colour is a bright lustrous purple, but the nose is brackish and dank. The palate is a bit tingly, with red cordial and boiled lolly characters, but these fade behind a bitter, green flinty character. Crowd reaction: If my pet made this smell I’d send it outside.
Then two jolly decent Cabernet Francs. The 2004 Domaine Wilfred Rousse Chinon 'Les Galuches' (£8) is mid red with a purple tinge. Nose is metallic (Cookie – ‘like staples’) with charcoal hints, blackcurrant, raisin and tomato leaves. The palate is supple and round, with soft ripe plums, jam, and cherry pie, with a tight minerally finish. Well structured. And the Domaine de la Cotellaraie I’ve already noted at the beginning of this post. Crowd reaction: varied, from ‘farts and poo’ through to ‘pretty promising, actually’.
Strictly this was supposed to be a Loire tasting, but I decided to throw in a few Merlot-based Bordeaux blends for variety’s sake and because you just can’t find that many interesting Loire reds in one’s local High Street retailer (and I’m not yet prolific enough to have Chateaux throw free wine at me for my opinion).
So, first was 2001 Chateau Barrabaque (Canon Fronsac) (£16). The nose is dominated by cedar wood and vanilla, with almost no fruit showing, and is far from integrated. The full bodied palate is still tight, finishing with ripe tannins. A few years yet before it will be showing at its best. This was followed by 2000 Chateau Franc La Rose (St Emilion) (£16), which was very promising on the nose – fruitcake, mint, generous dried fruits and beginning to integrate very well. Unfortunately the palate delivered less what the nose promised, and is ungenerously minerally, with river water streaks and even fish (Andrew). The 2003 Chateau Preuillac (Medoc Cru Bourgeois) (£13) was showing the best of the Bordeaux reds. Generous chocolate and coffee aromas, with a ripe palate of blackcurrant and black cherries and soft ripe tannins on the finish. Very 2003 with its amplified fruit and ‘baked’ character. Crowd reaction: flat patch bullies – Bordeaux will always taste superior when following Loire Cabernet Francs.
As has become my custom, we finished with a crowd pleasing sweet wine – 2003 Chateau Pierre-Bise Coteaux du Layon Beaulieu ‘Clos de la Soucherie’. Dried apples and honeycomb on the nose, palate is fresh but ultra-sweet, finishing dry and chalky.
Sunday, 20 May 2007
Classed Growth Bordeaux blind tasting
I love red Bordeaux – it’s the answer I give when people ask me the unanswerable question “what is your favourite wine?” simply so that I don’t have to give a long-winded explanation to someone who probably doesn’t care and was only being polite. (Anyone who does care would probably ask a better question). But I learnt two things at a tasting of classed growth Bordeaux on Saturday.
First, when you get a good Bordeaux in a lineup of random wines (of equivalent quality, let’s say), it sits head and shoulders above the others in terms of its attraction, and it becomes very easy to label it ‘beautiful’ or ‘classic’. But when you try a lineup of good Bordeaux against each other, one’s critical faculties come to the fore, and no wine seems good enough for approval, when under any other conditions, any of them would probably emerge the favourite. I was really disappointed that in yesterday’s lineup of 6 wines, I only really liked one or two of them. But I bet that if any of them had been presented on its own or in a lineup of other wines I would have been making all the right noises about it. Lesson: don’t drink a lineup of just classed growth Bordeaux if you want to cream your pants over every sip.
Second, when I try a glass of Bordeaux on its own, I always struggle to find more than a few generic descriptors for the wine – blackcurrants, cedar, mint, tobacco. But when I try a lineup of all Bordeaux, a whole spectrum of flavours appears that is much wider than I would have expected, and includes flavours that I would never even expect to find in Bordeaux let alone in such abundance. Turns out the people from Berry’s aren’t bullshitting me in their daily emails encouraging me to purchase wine I couldn’t afford in my wildest dreams. Lesson: if you want to expose the variety of Bordeaux, drink it in a lineup of Bordeaux. Why must the lessons conflict?
Anyway, here are my notes for the wines tasted.
1995 Chateau Lagrange (St Julien)
Mid red, with a brickish rim. Nose shows mint, river pebbles, blackcurrants, mulberry leaves. The palate is on the thin side, to be perfectly honest, with a little too much acid for my liking and almost no tannin at all, and slightly sour on the finish compared with the others. Fully developed, I don’t think it will improve greatly from now on.
1998 Chateau Langoa Barton (St Julien)
Dark red-purple. The nose is fairly closed and restrained, but what does emerge is quite fragrant – perfumed sour cherries. The palate has a more cedary edge to it and is rather green but finishing with fine tannins. To be honest, neither of the two St Juliens excited me that much, despite having been impressed on previous occasions by the same wines on their own.
1995 Chateau d’Armailhac (Pauillac)
The two Pauillacs were the two that most obviously reflected their terroir, and this one was the most classic of the wines tasted. Nose of cedarwood, blackcurrants and tobacco, the palate is plummy with violets and a minerally streak to it, finishing with medium tannins. All elements well integrated and mature, and showing some complexity.
1999 Chateau d’Armailhac (Pauillac)
The general consensus was that this was the favourite wine of the afternoon, and I agree. Mid-red in colour, with an opulent nose of ground coffee, chocolate and cigar-box aromas. The palate is supple and concentrated, with ripe red fruit and finishing with mouth-coating, persistent tannins. Well proportioned and will continue to improve in years to come.
1995 Chateau Haut-Bailly (Pessac Leognan)
Nobody could believe this was a 1995 – still an incredibly youthful wine, and built to last. The other interesting thing is that the half of us that didn’t think it was Pessac, thought it was St Estephe, such was the minerality of the wine and the power of the tannins. But wrong we were, and to my mind it is interesting that so many people were wrong in the same way given how remotely different the two communes are. Anyway the nose is minerally, with loads of slate, river water and wet pebbles, with ink and green capsicum too. The palate is forward with loads of ripe fruit and mint, with a long finish with very firm, drying tannins. Powerful.
2002 Domaine de Chevalier (Pessac Leognan)
Mid-red, nose of caramel, rhubarb and cream, boiled cherries and mulberry leaves. The palate is restrained and a bit green, with oak that is a far way from being integrated. A few years yet before it is ready.
We joined a party at a Lebanese restaurant after the tasting. Naturally the only thing on the wine list there was Chateau Musar, so we had a bottle of the 1997 with our meal, which I suppose is worth noting. Translucent red (but throwing a massive deposit), nose of raisins, spices and dried fruit. Palate is relatively light, and forwardly fruity with bright acid, but almost no trace of tannin on the finish.
First, when you get a good Bordeaux in a lineup of random wines (of equivalent quality, let’s say), it sits head and shoulders above the others in terms of its attraction, and it becomes very easy to label it ‘beautiful’ or ‘classic’. But when you try a lineup of good Bordeaux against each other, one’s critical faculties come to the fore, and no wine seems good enough for approval, when under any other conditions, any of them would probably emerge the favourite. I was really disappointed that in yesterday’s lineup of 6 wines, I only really liked one or two of them. But I bet that if any of them had been presented on its own or in a lineup of other wines I would have been making all the right noises about it. Lesson: don’t drink a lineup of just classed growth Bordeaux if you want to cream your pants over every sip.
Second, when I try a glass of Bordeaux on its own, I always struggle to find more than a few generic descriptors for the wine – blackcurrants, cedar, mint, tobacco. But when I try a lineup of all Bordeaux, a whole spectrum of flavours appears that is much wider than I would have expected, and includes flavours that I would never even expect to find in Bordeaux let alone in such abundance. Turns out the people from Berry’s aren’t bullshitting me in their daily emails encouraging me to purchase wine I couldn’t afford in my wildest dreams. Lesson: if you want to expose the variety of Bordeaux, drink it in a lineup of Bordeaux. Why must the lessons conflict?
Anyway, here are my notes for the wines tasted.
1995 Chateau Lagrange (St Julien)
Mid red, with a brickish rim. Nose shows mint, river pebbles, blackcurrants, mulberry leaves. The palate is on the thin side, to be perfectly honest, with a little too much acid for my liking and almost no tannin at all, and slightly sour on the finish compared with the others. Fully developed, I don’t think it will improve greatly from now on.
1998 Chateau Langoa Barton (St Julien)
Dark red-purple. The nose is fairly closed and restrained, but what does emerge is quite fragrant – perfumed sour cherries. The palate has a more cedary edge to it and is rather green but finishing with fine tannins. To be honest, neither of the two St Juliens excited me that much, despite having been impressed on previous occasions by the same wines on their own.
1995 Chateau d’Armailhac (Pauillac)
The two Pauillacs were the two that most obviously reflected their terroir, and this one was the most classic of the wines tasted. Nose of cedarwood, blackcurrants and tobacco, the palate is plummy with violets and a minerally streak to it, finishing with medium tannins. All elements well integrated and mature, and showing some complexity.
1999 Chateau d’Armailhac (Pauillac)
The general consensus was that this was the favourite wine of the afternoon, and I agree. Mid-red in colour, with an opulent nose of ground coffee, chocolate and cigar-box aromas. The palate is supple and concentrated, with ripe red fruit and finishing with mouth-coating, persistent tannins. Well proportioned and will continue to improve in years to come.
1995 Chateau Haut-Bailly (Pessac Leognan)
Nobody could believe this was a 1995 – still an incredibly youthful wine, and built to last. The other interesting thing is that the half of us that didn’t think it was Pessac, thought it was St Estephe, such was the minerality of the wine and the power of the tannins. But wrong we were, and to my mind it is interesting that so many people were wrong in the same way given how remotely different the two communes are. Anyway the nose is minerally, with loads of slate, river water and wet pebbles, with ink and green capsicum too. The palate is forward with loads of ripe fruit and mint, with a long finish with very firm, drying tannins. Powerful.
2002 Domaine de Chevalier (Pessac Leognan)
Mid-red, nose of caramel, rhubarb and cream, boiled cherries and mulberry leaves. The palate is restrained and a bit green, with oak that is a far way from being integrated. A few years yet before it is ready.
We joined a party at a Lebanese restaurant after the tasting. Naturally the only thing on the wine list there was Chateau Musar, so we had a bottle of the 1997 with our meal, which I suppose is worth noting. Translucent red (but throwing a massive deposit), nose of raisins, spices and dried fruit. Palate is relatively light, and forwardly fruity with bright acid, but almost no trace of tannin on the finish.
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