An Exercise in Bottle Variation in Less Than Twenty Years

An evening of 1998 Pomerol was as much a demonstration in the difficulty of judging wines at this age due to individual variation as an opportunity to get a bead on this unusual vintage, where the right bank performed well but the left bank was miserable.sunset24

Sunset over Pomerol. The church at the center of the village is on the right

We started with La Conseillante. The first bottle was corked, okay that’s an occupational hazard. The second bottle was slightly corked. Bad luck. The third bottle was brilliant, typical La Conseillante, giving that impression of iron in the soil you get from the edge of Pomerol, fully on form from what has always been one of my favorite chateaux.

A bottle of L’Eglise Clinet was rather restrained for Pomerol, with a fresh sense of acidity to the palate, almost at the edge of piquancy. But then a second bottle showed clear, pure fruits with more spice, and a greater sense of Cabernet Franc, perhaps more in line with expectations from St. Emilion, but very fine. Presumably the second represents the real l’Eglise Clinet, but without any obvious flaw in the first bottle, it would have been easy to dismiss the chateau.

Clinet showed as softer than Eglise Clinet, more Merlot-ish but again quite restrained. Fresh, pure, good structure but not obtrusive. Ah, but a second bottle showed greater fruit purity, more sense of spice, gorgeous. I would not buy Clinet based on the first bottle, but I would definitely buy it based on the second.

No problems with Trotanoy: spicy, full, pure, very refined impressions of Merlot. Then Vieux Chateau Certan, which some people described as sexy, and which for me seemed more typical Pomerol, which is perhaps why Trotanoy, with more restraint, was my favorite.

Then back to bottle problems. The first bottle of Le Gay was quite undeveloped, somewhere between rich and structured, with good acidity, but no very distinct character. This is just not a very good wine, said my neighbor. Then a second bottle showed greater fruit and precision, with distinctly more purity.

So out of six wines, only two were unequivocally in peak condition. (And, of course, it might be that because they were so good we did not ask to try another bottle, but there could have been less successful bottles at other tables.) In the four cases where the first bottle presented a problem, only the La Conseillante was obviously corked. If a second bottle had not been available, it would have been easy to put all the other cases down to poor winemaking. This is a real killer for the chateaux.

There was no question of provenance here, each wine had been bought as a lot in good conditions, usually en primeur, and stored properly. So what can it be but the corks? This is woefully unacceptable. If an appliance, say a refrigerator, performed with such variability, its manufacturer would go out of business.

I’ve never really liked the idea of screwcaps for red wines destined for aging, because I worry about problems of reduction, but when I’ve had the opportunity to compare the same wines bottled under cork and screwcap (specifically in New Zealand and Australia, where the wines were about ten years old), the screwcap wine was always fresher and younger. Whether it would ultimately age in the same way as a wine under cork is the big question in my mind. I think it is time for the chateaux in Bordeaux to do some experiments and find out.

A Day at Three Mythic Wineries in Montalcino

“This destination is not on the digital map,” my GPS announced, when I entered the coordinates for Cerbaiona, but we knew the destination was in sight when we saw the huge crane looming over the construction. The buildings are in full flight of reconstruction with a two year project to renovate and extend the cellars, improve the vineyards, and plant a new vineyard. Cerbaiona is one of the mythic producers of Brunello, created when Diego Molinari left Alitalia in 1977, and instead of flying planes, began making wine.

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The crane showed me where to find Cerbaiona

 Winemaking might more accurately have been called idiosyncratic rather than traditional, with vinification in cement tanks with fiber glass lining, and aging in very old botti. But the wines won worldwide acclaim.

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The house at Cerbaiona is being restored

Cerbaiona was a manor house, and the east-facing vineyards just below the house are adjacent to the La Cerbaiola estate. Cerbaiona was purchased in 2015 by a group of investors led by Matthew Fioretti, a Californian who spent some of his education in Italy, and started in wine by importing Italian wines into the United States. Now he is living at Cerbaiona and managing the massive reconstruction. “I thought we could do it one step at time, but I realized we would have to do everything at once,” Matthew explains. Just below the house a 1 ha olive grove has been replanted with vines, and an additional vineyard may be added at slightly higher elevation (the estate is at 450 m).

“The Molinaris were the ultimate garagistes, making some wine in the basement,” is how Matthew describes the previous situation. Working around the construction, the current vintage is being made in new equipment, with wood fermenters and new botti. So there may be a bit more wood showing for the next year or so. Tastings of the Rosso and Brunello presently maturing in botti show the characteristic combination of density with elegance. Will there be any permanent change in style? “Well, it’s the vineyards that count,” Matthew says, but there will be better handling of the fruit, so look for increased purity in the wine.

The adjacent vineyard is La Cerbaiola—Diego Molinari used to say that Cerbaione and Cerbaiola were part of the same estate a century ago—but to visit you don’t go to the winery, but to the cellars in Montalcino. The tiny scale of production at La Cerbaiola is indicated by its aging cellar, underneath the family house in Piazza Cavour in the town of Montalcino: it has 6 botti of 20 hl. That’s the total production for one of the mythic producers of Montalcino.

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The unassuming entrance hides the cellar of one of Montalcino’s top producers

The property at La Cerbaiola, three vineyards totalling 4 ha in a 20 ha estate, has been in the Salvioni family for three generations, but winemaking is relatively recent. “Our story started in 1985 when my father decided to make wine, says Alessia Salvioni.   Guilio Salvioni’s first vintage in 1985 was an immediate success: the traditional approach, using indigenous yeast, botti (albeit of medium size), and lack of filtration, marked the wines firmly in the artisanal camp.

The entire vineyard is declared for Brunello, but some is declassified to Rosso when the crop is unusually large or there is a poor vintage. There are certainly ups and downs in production. In 2012 there were 12,000 bottles of Brunello, in 2013 there were only four botti (about 10,000 bottles), in 2014 the entire crop was declassified to Rosso, and in 2015 there will probably be 15,000 bottles, all Brunello. The wines have that combination of full flavor and density, yet elegant expression, that marks the vineyards of Cerbaiola and Cerbaiona.

And then for something completely different, I went to Valdicava, in the northeast of the appellation. Well, not completely different: a sense of Déja Vu all over again, as we had to go a long way round to the back entrance, because the front was blocked by massive reconstruction works. Driving through the extensive estate on the way to the winery, we passed the Madonna del Piano, a small building that used to be a church, and which is just above the famous 8 ha vineyard of its name.

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Madonna del Piano overlooks the famous vineyard

The work is to build a new winery, a stable for the racing horses (another interest), and a tasting room. The present winery is small facility, packed with equipment and botti. One of the older established producers in Montalcino, Valdicava was turned into something of a cult wine after Vincenzo Abbruzzese took over in 1987. The estate was founded by his grandfather, Bramante Abbruzzese, in 1953. Valdicava was a founding member of the Consorzio, and has been bottling wine under the Valdicava label since 1977 (previously they carried a generic description from the Consorzio with the winery’s name).

The vineyards occupy only a small part of the 135 ha estate, which extends into the famous Montosoli hill, where the most powerful wines of Montalcino are produced. Valdicava produces three wines: Rosso (from the youngest vines), Brunello, and the single vineyard Madonna del Piano Riserva, produced only in the best vintages in small amounts (around 800 cases). Wines are aged only in botti, which are natural wood with no toast. Botti are replaced after fifteen years, and Vincenzo buys the wood and stores it in advance.

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The gracious back of Valdicava’s winery hides all the work at the front

The style is forceful, and at all levels the wines give an impression of the density that comes from low yields (in fact some of the lowest in the region), and the wines correspondingly need time to come around. Although forceful, Valdicava does not lose elegance and purity of fruits. Madonna is not so much more intense than Valdicava as different in its profile, with an intriguing blend of minerality on the bouquet and chocolate on the finish. “It’s different but it’s just between the other vineyards, there must be something in the soil.” Its character comes right through vintage variation, but it needs a long time to come around, perhaps twenty years. How long will these wines age? Vincenzo has been quoted as saying, “I guarantee the Riserva for the lifetime of the buyer.”

Will Gran Selezione Pull Chianti Classico Out of the Doldrums?

On my research visit to Tuscany last month for the Guide to Wines of Tuscany, I spent a morning at Rocca Delle Macìe, where I had a long conversation with Sergio Zingarelli, presently the chairman of the Consorzio of Chianti Classico. Founded by Sergio’s father in 1973 as a small winery, Rocca Delle Macìe has grown to include four estates in Chianti Classico and two in Maremma, and its total annual production is numbered in millions of bottles. The original winery is a tiny building now used to store botti, and around it is a gracious courtyard with family buildings and a tasting room; just below is the large, modern winery. I’m going to report the conversation verbatim without much commentary, as it casts an interesting light on the great progress being made in Chianti.

roccamacie1The black rooster in the courtyard at Rocca Delle Macìe

“The quality of Chianti Classico had increased a lot, due to changes in the cellar and the work on the Sangiovese grapes,” Sergio started, “but the image was not up to the level of the wines and the wineries. There are two big problems. One is the confusion between Chianti and Chianti Classico. We’ve given the black rooster more visibility, and we hope everyone will put Gallo Nero on the neck in the future.” This refers to the emblem of Chianti Classico—which is prominent as a large metal sculpture in the courtyard at Rocca Delle Macìe. [Chianti tout court refers to the huge area around Chianti Classico which also produces wines based on Sangiovese, but it is a completely separate DOCG with different regulations.]

“The second problem is that the best wines from the best wineries were not Chianti but IGT [the so-called super-Tuscans]. People would ask why the top wines were not Chianti Classico if they come from the Chianti Classico area and fit within the rules for the Chianti Classico blend.” The answer to this has been to introduce a new category, Gran Selezione, starting with the 2011 vintage. “It took two years to decide the name of the new category. The idea is that it has to represent the very best. In 2014 the first presentation was by 24 wineries with Gran Selezione; now there are over 100 wineries. Even some of the wineries that voted against have started the production of Gran Selezione. It’s important that the commission tastes the wine.” A big difference from Riserva (which still exists) is that wines must be approved: when I asked how often a wine is rejected, Sergio would not be drawn into details, but said that it’s certainly not a pro forma procedure.

I asked about the controversial decision that Gran Selezione is restricted to a producer’s own grapes, but not to an individual vineyard. Sergio gave a big sigh—obviously this had been a hard fought point. “No, it’s not required—but most of them do, 80 or 90%.” An informant in the Consorzio explained that there are some important top Chianti Classicos that don’t come from single vineyards, a prominent example being Ruffino’s Ducale Oro (which actually comes from two estates in the same commune). Ruffino wanted this to be Gran Selezione. “It was difficult to say no to Ruffino…”

Will IGTs be relabeled as Gran Selezione, I asked? “This is our goal. We are waiting.” In the meantime, some new top cuvées have become Gran Selezione, including Rocca Delle Macìe’s wine named for its owner. “The Sergio Zingarelli cuvée would have been an IGT if the Gran Selezione category had not been created,” Sergio says. I have come across a couple of former super-Tuscans that are now labeled as Gran Selezione, but most producers tell me they do not plan to change the label.

Chianti is a large area, covering seven or so communes, with different soil types, and climatic variation from north to south and from low to high elevations, so I asked whether producers will be allowed to indicate zones on labels. Wouldn’t this be a useful movement towards distinguishing character? “We are working to see what geographical information could be included. If we divided by soils and geography we would have to have 100 different classifications. We have to work by steps. Now we are working to have more information on the label where a wine comes from; if this happens it will probably be for Gran Selezione and Riserva.”

The rules for Chianti Classico have undergone continual evolution from the old regulations requiring white grapes to be included and limiting the proportion of Sangiovese (both factors that drove many top wines into the super-Tuscan category). Today Sangiovese has to be at least 80%, white grapes are forbidden, and international varieties can be included, but there’s something of a move back to indigenous varieties. “In the eighties when we understood we had to improve the quality, a lot of wineries felt they had to use international varieties because it was difficult to reliably produce high quality with Sangiovese. But with Chianti Classico 2000 [a research project to develop better grape varieties], we found several clones of Sangiovese and one each of Colorino and Canaiolo that are high quality for Chianti. For example, in a vineyard my father planted with 3,000 plants/ha, we could have two weeks difference in ripening between adjacent plants. We’ve analyzed the soil and replanted at more or less double density, and we don’t have the same problems with ripening. With these changes probably the international grapes will begin to decrease. Twenty years ago some people wanted to increase the international proportion allowed, but now this is anachronistic; people are increasing Sangiovese and indigenous grapes. I think in the natural way Sangiovese will increase—but I think Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon are important grapes in the area.”

I admit I was sceptical when I first encountered Gran Selezione. However, whereas at the first showing, most Gran Seleziones were the same cuvées that had previously been labeled as Riservas, in Tuscany last month I found many new cuvées, often representing single vineyards or specific terroirs, and the quality was a definite step up from where Riservas used to be. Is Chianti Classico closing in on Brunello di Montalcino (where the wines have to be 100% Sangiovese) in terms of quality?

I Form a New View of Champagne at the Fête de Champagne: Savory not Sweet

Tasting through the wines of thirty producers at the Fête de Champagne in New York, my notes often read “savory” or even “umami,” sometimes “austere” or “mineral,” but rarely mentioned sweetness or sugar. Of course, this could be because I focused on small grower-producers rather than large houses, because producers chose to bring a particular selection of Champagnes biased away from the more traditional style, or because the organizers took a specific view of what cuvées would be suitable to present in New York.

Several producers showed only Extra Brut or Zero Dosage (Brut Nature), where the trend was clearest.  It’s certainly true that dosage has been decreasing in Champagne over the past decade, although this is more to maintain continuity of style in the face of riper grapes resulting from global warming than to change the style, and there is also something of a trend to introduce zero dosage cuvées, but almost a quarter of the cuvées at the Fête de Champagne were Extra Brut, and as many again were Zero Dosage, which seems quite extreme against the general statistical trend. (Actually the classification as stated on the label probably underestimates the trend to Extra Brut, because many cuvées where dosage has been reduced below 4 g/l continue to be labeled as Brut although they could be Extra Brut.)

Although acidity has been decreasing with the warmer vintages, there was no shortage of it at the tasting (even though most producers are performing malolactic fermentation). Subjectively it does not seem that the crispness of Champagne is at all threatened at present, in fact producers have scope to display acidity by moving to Extra Brut or Zero Dosage, or to suppress it by moving into the realm of Brut with higher dosage. Objectively, it’s probably the fact that acidity is lower than it used to be that allows the Extra Brut and Zero Dosage styles to be produced; indeed, some producers use only their ripest grapes for Zero Dosage as otherwise the wines really can be too austere. I would say that in almost half of the Zero Dosage I tasted at the Fête, acidity was higher than I was really comfortable with on the palate, and some of the Extra Brut cuvées were a bit too austere for my palate, showing a touch too much bitterness on the finish: in these classes, there is no escaping from the need for absolutely top quality grapes.

But aside from the whole question of the acid to sweetness balance, savory impressions in Champagne are something relatively new to me (talking here about newly released Champagnes rather than the tertiary qualities that develop much later). The trend to Extra Brut and Zero Dosage is no doubt a prerequisite, since at Brut levels of dosage, any savory notes are likely to be hidden by the sweetness from the residual sugar. One of the most overtly savory Champagnes I have had was De Sousa’s Umami, so named because Erik de Sousa wanted to capture impressions of umami in a wine after he returned from a visit to Japan, but conditions have been right to produce this cuvée only once, he says (in 2009).

Jacquesson’s numbered releases (each representing a base year augmented by small amounts of other recent vintages) have low dosage to bring out the savory side, and it was fascinating to see that a late disgorgement of #735 (base year 2007) really enhanced the savory style. Perhaps the most savory Champagne of the day was Jacquesson’s vintage 2007 from Dizy.

Benoit Tarlant is one of my favorite small growers for his focus on Zero Dosage, and this time I found that his rosé took the edge of the austerity of the style to give a flavorful balance. And there on the Cuvée Louis 2000 Brut Nature is a lovely savory tang at the end: who says that Brut Nature can’t age (some critics argue that it can’t, because sugar is needed for the Maillard reaction with nitrogenous compounds that is the basis for the development of toast and brioche).

I was impressed with the wines of Chartogne-Taillet for their fresh precision and savory aftertaste. Maison Bérêche’s cuvées seemed a little on the acid side, more herbal than savory, but a million miles from that sensation of saccharine on the over dosed Champagnes of the past. Villmart’s cuvées seem to be moving in a savory direction as they age.

I draw a distinction between savory and minerality (even allowing for the fact that minerality means all things to all people, as I discussed in the previous blog: There Is No Such Thing as Minerality). For me, minerality is stony, smoky, flinty, the quintessential marker would be gunflint; whereas for savory, I’m looking for an impression of umami, maybe a touch of fenugrek (Scarborough Fair Wines in the Jura). I got impressions of minerality in the tight, precise style of Larmandier-Bernier and René Geoffroy, with more savory impressions in the wines of Pascal Doquet and Michel Gonet, as well as those already mentioned. What I like about this is the feeling that Champagne is no longer a wine sweetened to hide the problems of ripening grapes in a marginal climate, but is now offering interesting representations of terroir (and sometimes cépage)

There Is No Such Thing as Minerality

Or if there is, the Seminar on Minerality organized by the Institute of Masters of Wine failed to find it. The seminar had a great format: first three speakers presented views of minerality from geological and sensory perspectives; then there was a tasting to assess minerality.

I thought it had long been established absolutely beyond contradiction that, whatever minerality might be in wine, it is not due to uptake of minerals from the soil, but geologist Alex Maltman presented several amazing examples from supposedly respectable sources, such as textbooks, where minerality was attributed to soil elements. So it’s maybe worth repeating that this cannot be: measured quantities of trace elements in wine are far below the threshold for taste. Any effects they have on taste must be indirect.

Debunking another myth, Alex pointed out that insofar as soil might influence any uptake by the plant, it’s the surface that is important: deep roots basically take up water, but it’s the roots towards the surface (or at least in the top meter) that take up nutrients. So all those efforts to drive roots deeper, all that pride in the deep roots of old vines, if not misplaced is at least misunderstood. Deep roots may be important in ensuring water supply, obviously this may have a big effect on ripening and therefore quality, but if nutrient uptake were to have any effect on character, it would come from the surface. (And if there were any such thing as microbial terroir, which I take leave to doubt, it would be superficial.)

You might even question whether minerality relates to the actual character of wine (that is, some chemical or physical property) or is due to some form of association (think of Proust’s madeleine). Wendy Parr’s experiments show that it’s associated with people’s descriptions of other properties in the wine, and so does at least appear to result from what they actually smell and taste.

But there is the most extraordinary range of characteristics associated with “minerality.” Jordi Ballester finds that people who call Chardonnay mineral fall into three groups, loosely characterized as: flint/seashore, oaky/smoky/wet dog, and floral/apple/banana. Personally I’m pretty much in the first group, I can understand the second group (sort of), but the third leaves me totally mystified as to what people mean by minerality. However, Jordi points out that whereas producers in Chablis have a relatively clear idea of what they mean by minerality, consumers show little agreement, to the point at which he is not working with consumers any more.

We blind tasted 5 Chablis and 10 Sauvignon Blancs and were asked to assess minerality for each wine on a scale from 1 to 10. I got a completely different view from participating in the survey from reading papers on the subject, and at the least a much better idea of the limitations. Here was a group of around a hundred professionals, but the assessment of which wine was the most mineral was totally dispersed in each set, not quite equally, but certainly showing no consensus.

I wondered whether this was because none of the wines (to my palate) actually showed strong minerality. I use minerality as a descriptor quite often, but I wouldn’t actually have applied it to any of these wines. I also wonder whether Sauvignon Blanc is a good variety to test, because its varietal typicity can be so strong. I was surprised that there wasn’t an internal control, that is, the same wine included twice: at a minimum, in a research setting I would not accept the validity of any study that didn’t show that individual tasters rated the same wine reliably—otherwise all we’re looking at is scatter in the data.

So is minerality at all useful as a descriptor? I know what I mean by it, but evidently this is not necessarily the same as anyone else means by it. There is an amazing panoply of components that have absolutely no taste but that are used to describe the flavors or smells of wine: graphite, flint, rocks, iodine just to start with. Where a smell is ascribed to an odorless compound, it may come from association—the solvent used in tincture of iodine, or the aromatics released by sparking flint, for example. I don’t think it would matter particularly if iodine was used as a descriptor, even though the smell is not actually of iodine, if it was a reliable descriptor.

The problem is that minerality is anything but reliable. There is a cynical view (people were too polite to express it directly) that minerality is nothing more than a marketing ploy. I don’t accept that, because I do find it useful in my tasting notes, although maybe what I really mean is gunflint or smoky. I guess we end up with the old philosophical question of how we know whether any two people smell and taste the same thing, which of course implies that tasting notes are useful only for the person who wrote them.

The Ultimate Artisan: A Visit to Champagne Agrapart

We arrived at Agrapart to find that Pascal wasn’t quite ready for us: he was in the middle of disgorgement. But this was not the usual machine with its wonderful automated array of equipment for dipping inverted bottles in ice, turning back up, removing crown caps, and inserting dosage before corking: this was Pascal. His son was dipping the inverted bottles into the freezing mixture and quickly turning them back up, Pascal snipped the cork off with a pair of pliers, stuck the end of the pliers into the neck to release the foam, then sniffed to check all was well, before the bottle was passed on for dosage and bottling.

agrapart4Pascal engaged in disgorgement

Agrapart is on the Avenue Jean Jaurès, which is Avize’s equivalent of Avenue de Champagne in Epernay–a long line of Champagne houses one after the other. It was founded by Pascal Agrapart’s grandfather and is still a family domain. Pascal’s father started to commercialize the Champagne in the sixties and seventies. Pascal built the domain up from 3 ha to 12 ha. “We wouldn’t grow beyond, say, 15 ha and be able to continue as we like to consider ourselves true artisans,” says Nathalie Agrapart. Vineyards include more than 70 individual parcels, mostly Grand Cru with some Premier Cru on the Côte de Blancs, and a little Pinot Noir on the Montagne de Reims. “We are specialists in Chardonnay, we just have some small plots with Pinot Noir,” says Nathalie.

agrapart5The courtyard at Agrapart

The artisan nature of the operation becomes clear going around the cellars, set around a charming courtyard off the street, and somewhat larger than they appear, as they go down for three levels. The top level is for vinification, the second level is full of pupîtres, and the third is for stockage. There are two old presses, where the juice runs out directly into an underground vat. (Not in use at the moment, the presses have bicycles stored in them.) Riddling is all manual, but “the problem with the pupîtres is that we don’t have enough space, it would easier with gyropalettes.” There’s no transvasage, remuage is done manually up to jeroboams.

There are 7 cuvées. Only two are based on assemblage from different parcels; the majority are single vineyard wines or represent specific terroirs. Only one is Brut, the rest are Extra Brut or Brut Nature. Pascal thinks a lot about his cuvées. “The idea in my head was…” he tends to explain with a gesture, as he introduces each cuvée. The range gives a terrific expression of different terroirs through the prism of Chardonnay. An extremely fine sense of texture runs through all cuvées. Flavors in the citrus spectrum are subtle, and deepen going from the vins d’assemblage to the single vineyard wines, but all cuvées have that impression of refinement and delicacy, giving a sense that a fine coiled spring is waiting to develop. The Extra Brut style allows purity of fruits to shine through.

There are four Blanc de Blancs representing specific terroirs. “We have vineyards very close to the Maison and make three completely different wines.” Mineral comes from very calcareous plots in Avize and Cramant. “In the same village you can find different terroirs, clay or calcareous, different depths of soil. My idea is to reflect those differences by selecting vineyards that show the mineral side.” Avizoise is a vintage that comes from the oldest vines (60 years) from soils with more clay in Avize. “Mineral has the verticality, Avizoise has more volume and breadth.” Exp. 12 is a Brut Nature from Avize. “This is nothing but Champagne. No dosage, no sugar at all. The liqueur comes from another vintage. So it’s all Champagne.”

Complantee is an unusual blend that in addition to the usual three varieties has Pinot Blanc, Arbane, and Petit Meslier. The name reflects the fact that the varieties are all intermingled in the vineyard. It comes from a tiny plot (less than a third of a hectare) which Pascal planted in 2003 because he thinks terroir is more important than cépage. For me, cépage does come through, however, because I get that faintly herbal, faintly spicy impression that comes from the old varieties.

It’s an experience to taste through the range at Agrapart as each cuvée has something different to say.

 

Artisan Champagne, Biodynamics, and Music at Éric Rodez

Arriving for a visit with Éric Rodez at what looks like a residence in a quiet back street of Ambonnay, there’s a crane hovering over the building, with everything under construction. Éric Rodez is constructing a new winery at the family house. He has separate cellars close by in the town, but they have run out of space.

The Rodez family has been making wine in Ambonnay since 1757, and after a stint in Burgundy followed by experience as an oenologist at a large Champagne house, Éric came back to run the family domain. “My first vintage was an exceptionally bad year, 1984, and this created a tsunami in me. I felt no emotion in my new wine,” he recollects. Éric bubbles over with comparisons between wine and music, all the while drawing parallels between the emotions they create. “When you go to a concert, every concert is a new emotion, it’s not just a repeat. For me this is the logic for terroir wine. Every year I am writing a melody with a new interpretation.”

Éric is committed to biodynamic viticulture, but that is not enough. “Now I am using aromatherapy. Organic viticulture uses copper for mildew and sulfur for oïdium, but copper is toxic for the soil and sulfur is toxic for the wine. Using oils reduces the need for copper.” Out in the vineyards, he explains the morcelated character of his holdings, which consist of 35 separate parcels. “These 13 rows of Pinot Noir come from my father, these 39 rows of Chardonnay come from my mother.” He points to his vines where the berries are small and the bunches are small, then we cross the street to a neighbor’s vines, conventionally farmed, and Eric points to the difference: the berries and bunches are much larger. “It’s not bad,” he says, “but it’s nice industrial champagne, it dilutes the terroir.” He’s fervent about the advantages of biodynamics.

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Eric Rodez’s biodynamic grapes (left) are much smaller than those of neighboring plots (right).

Winemaking is traditional in some respects and unconventional or modern in others. “Traditionally Champagne is 80% the new year and 20% reserves, but I use 70% reserve wines and only 30% of current vintage.” Pressing uses old manual presses constructed in 1936. “I don’t want to use a modern press. It’s very important to press slowly.” But there are a couple of gyropalettes, so Eric is not stuck thoughtlessly in tradition. The cellar contains stainless steel vats and barriques; 20% of the wine is fermented in old oak, and most élevage is in oak.

ericrodez1Behind the house, a new winery is being constructed.

Dosage is always low here. “All my wines are Extra Brut, but I put Brut on the label because I never know for the next vintage.” The style really showcases cépage, and you see the differences between the character of each cépage in a way that is unusually clear for Champagne. The Blanc de Blancs says, “I am Chardonnay,” and the Blanc de Noirs says, “I am Pinot Noir.” Coming from the Ambonnay grand cru, the blends have only Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. “I’m not interested in Pinot Meunier because it doesn’t age well,” Éric explains. All the wines have a great sense of balance and integration between density and vivacity.

“Cuvée des Crayères blends the structure of Pinot Noir with the sensuality of Chardonnay,” says Éric, and it shows that characteristic balance of the house. The Blanc de Blancs comes from Ambonnay and has a typically elegant uplift. The Blanc de Noirs has that characteristic sense of Pinot Noir’s density. “For the Blanc de Noirs I did not do MLF in order to have more sensuality.” The Zero Dosage is perfectly balanced, with no sense of anything missing, as sometimes happens in the category. It comes from a plot in the middle of the slope which gives good ripeness. The Cuvée des Grands Vintages is “a blend of the best vintages, it is very complex. “Les Beurys is “one plot, one vintage, one cépage,” from a plot of Pinot Noir with east exposure and 35 cms of soil. “It’s almost an anti-Champagne because there’s no assemblage.” The vintage Blanc de Blancs, Empreinte De Terroir Chardonnay, “is my view of the terroir of Ambonnay.” Long and deep, unmistakably Chardonnay, this says it all.

Flavorful would be a good one word summary of the style. You can only get a result like this if you hold back on the sulfur, says my companion, the Anima Figure, and indeed it’s very low. These are very distinctive wines, with everything focused on bringing out terroir and cépage.