Ungrafted Vines and Rare Varieties: the Unusual Wines of Henry Marionnet

Posted on August 30, 2016 by Benjamin Lewin

I have been following the wines of Henry Marionnet ever since I first encountered his cuvées from nongrafted vines, so I was delighted to be invited to have lunch at the domain when I was in the Loire updating my Guide to Wines and Top Vineyards of the Loire. The vineyard is pretty much at the eastern edge of Touraine, not far from the great Chateau of Chambord (of which more in a moment).

“Here we only make special wines that others don’t make. All my life I have looked to make the best wine, and not like the others,” says Henry Marionnet. Henry’s father started the domain before the first world war, but he had 20 ha of hybrids. Henry built it up to its present level, mostly with Gamay and Sauvignon Blanc, but with an interesting in reviving the original wines of the area, in this case meaning cultivating some old varieties, planting vines on their own roots, and making wine without adding sulfur. Today his son Jean-Sébastien is the winemaker, but Henry is still very much in evidence.

Ungrafted vines are a specialty of the domain, and there are presently 6 ha, including Gamay, Malbec, Sauvignon Blanc, Chenin Blanc, and Romorantin. Both the cuvées of Romorantin come from ungrafted vines. Romorantin is an old variety of the area that has almost disappeared, possibly because it’s a late variety—it is always the last to be harvested. (It is permitted in Cheverny AOP and is the basis for Cour-Cheverny AOP). Indeed, most examples of Romorantin give me the impression of having struggled to reach ripeness. It is different at Henry Marionnet, where there are two cuvées.

Pucelle de Romorantin comes from a plot of ungrafted vines planted in 2007, while Provignage comes from a plot of vines that precede phylloxera. We started with Provignage before lunch, because “it has so much finesse and elegance it deserves to be appreciated alone,” Henry says. The very old Romorantin was a small part (a third of a hectare) of a 4 ha plot that Henry purchased in 1998. The plot was not regarded as anything special by the previous owner, who included the grapes with other varieties he sold to the cooperative, and it’s lucky it survived; it would probably have been pulled out but these were among the only vines to survive the great freeze of 1956, so they were left alone.

Are these the oldest vines in France? Henry Marionnet dates this plot of Romorantin from the 1850s.

“The owner proposed to sell the vines to me 15 years ago. I immediately called INAO and asked them to come and take a look at the vines. They couldn’t tell the age, and asked if they could pull out two vines. They dissected them at Montpellier and reckoned they had been planted in the first half of the nineteenth century.” The plot still contains more than three quarters of the original vines; when a vine dies it’s replaced by using marcottage (sticking a branch into the soil until it roots). Curiously for the era in which the vines were planted, they are in tidy, well separated rows. Henry claims these are the oldest vines in France. Provignage has dense flavors, with an impression somewhat reminiscent of white Burgundy with a touch of Chenin Blanc. It is unique.

Other varieties have multiple cuvées. “We’ll compare the normal cuvée—well, there is nothing normal here—with the ungrafted vines,” Henry says, as we start our tasting. In fact, things rapidly became more complicated as there are three lines: “normal,” Première Vendange, which is made in exactly the same way but has no sulfur used at all in vinification or maturation; and Vinifera, which comes from ungrafted vines. For Gamay, Renaissance is a cuvée that is a two-fer, coming from ungrafted vines and having no sulfur. Jean-Sébastien first made it in 2014. There is also Les Cépages Oubliés, a cuvée from the unusual variety Gamay de Bouze. This is thought to have come from a village near Beaune, around the 18^th century. It’s a partial teinturier (the juice has some color) and was banned at one time—“because it made good wine,” Henry says dryly.

The Sauvignon is very good but the Vinifera has an extra level of purity. “The damage that phylloxera did lingers on,” Shakespeare might have said. When you taste the Gamay, you think, this is very good, it puts most Beaujolais to shame, then when you taste Première Vendange, you think, this goes a step further, and then Renaissance pushes that back, Each wine successively becomes more subtle and complex. “This is a pure wine, no sulfur, no rootstock,” Henry says when we reach Renaissance. Gamay is the heart of the domain: “here you drink Gamay and you eat Gamay,” Henry comments as we finish lunch with a fruit tart made from Gamay with a sauce made from Gamay de Bouze.

As if all this was not enough, the Marionnets are presently involved in a project to recreate the vineyards at Chambord, the great chateau built by Francoise Ier, who is supposed to have brought the variety Romorantin (from Beaune) to the region in 1517 when he built the chateau. A new vineyard has been planted about 1 km away from Chambord, 14 ha altogether, including Romorantin, Pinot Noir, Pineau, and Sauvignon Blanc, in an attempt to recreate the varietal mix of the original vineyards. Of course, the vines are ungrafted. The name of the wine is undecided, as the authorities will not allow it to be called after Chateau Chambord—”it’s crazy,” says Henry, “but that’s France.”

Chambord

The fist vintage at Chateau Chambord (although not under that name) will be 2019.

When I mentioned to the sommelier at my hotel that I had visited Henry Marionnet, he said that the wines were good but rather expensive. That they are: but how often do you get to drink wines from 150-year-old vines, or for that matter from ungrafted vines in Europe? They are worth trying, and the comparison between vines on rootstocks and franc de pied (what the French call vines on their own roots) is fascinating.

Tradition Lives in Barolo

Posted on July 7, 2016 by Benjamin Lewin

Following a day visiting three “modernists,” where the hallmark was elegance and delicacy, I set out to visit three “traditionalists,” to see if I could define their common distinguishing feature.

Vietti is located in the heart—well really one might say at the top of—the hilltop town of Castiglione Falletto. Set in two buildings around a charming courtyard, the only place to build the winery is below, so it extends for three storeys underground. The oldest part is right up against the medieval town walls. The modern era at Vietti started when Sabino Vietti returned from the States to take over in the early twentieth century. Known as the “crazy Americano,” he had strange ideas such as buying land in other communes.

“We have always been known as a Barolo producer,’ says Elena Vietti, but Barbera is very important to us—we try to make extraordinary wines from the ordinary.” Some of Vietti’s vineyard sites in the Barolo DOC area that could be planted with Nebbiolo are planted with Barbera. La Crena comes from vines planted in the 1930s, and Scarrone Vigna Vecchia comes from vines more than 85 years old. Far from the rustic reputation of Barbera, these offer a creamy sophistication with deep flavors.

A stainless steel vat stands in front of a window in the old fourteenth century walls in the Vietti cellars.

“We consider ourselves one of the most traditional wineries,” says Elena, “for example, in using very long maceration times, but many things that are modern are normal now. It’s not just about botti and barriques.” She describes Vietti’s philosophy. “So long as you do not impose your personality, so long as you respect the soil, it’s traditional.” Vietti has vineyards in 15 different areas, but produces one blended Barolo and four single vineyard wines. “It would be very complex to produce 15 different Crus.” All the wines are vinified by parcel, but after two years of maturation in botti, all except the single vineyard wines are selected either for the Barolo blend (called Castiglione) or are deselected into the Langhe Nebbiolo, which is effectively a second wine. Going up the line, the Lange is quite restrained, Castiglione shows more aromatic life and delicacy, and the single vineyard wines are yet more refined. There’s a lovely contrast with the Barbaresco, which has a more savory, earthy character. No argument here that traditional winemaking is representing the differences in terroir.

From Vietti’s terrace on one side of the valley, you can see across to Serralunga d’Alba on the other side, where my next visit was to Massolino, which is in full flight of expansion, with a large extension to the cellar, just being completed, looking over the valley from the edge of the town. “All our Barolos are aged in traditional large botti, with very neutral oak,” says Franco Massolino. Neutrality of the oak, which comes from Slovenia and Austria, is a major concern here. Wines are vinified in cement vats. “We did experiments with stainless steel and cement, we always preferred the cement, although it’s a very fine detail,” Franco explains. Vinification for the single vineyard wines is always exactly the same in order to bring out the differences in terroir.

Massolino’s new cellar contains both traditional botti and modern barriques.

The Barolo makes a classical impression with relatively light color and delicacy of expression. Then Margheria shows a little more intensity, a sort of silky sheen covering the palate. Coming from older vines, Parafaoa is deeper and velvety, a lovely balance between concentration and delicacy. Then Parussi shows more power and a more savory inclination. There is simply no mistaking the fact the terroir is the driving force, as the wines show the full range of Barolo, from subtle delicacy to smooth elegance, and each is quite distinctive.

There could scarcely be a greater difference between the snazzy modern cellars at Massolino and the old cellars of Guiseppe Mascarello, located by the railway station in Monchiero. “We are 3 km out of the Barolo DOC,” explains Elena Mascarello, “but we are a historic cellar, so we are authorized to make the wine here.” The building, a slightly dilapidated looking warehouse, dates from the second half of the eighteenth century, and Mascarello has been making wine here since the 1920s. Concrete or fiberglass tanks are used for vinification; everything is matured in rather old botti—there isn’t a barrique in the place.

I had to move my car to make way for a huge truck arriving at Mascarello.

The famous Monprivato, coming from a vineyard in Castiglione Falletto, is the biggest production here. Tasting the 2010, I was startled by how approachable it is already. I quizzed Elena as to why Monprivato today should be more approachable than it was when first produced in the 1970s, but it seems that whatever changes are responsible lie more in viticulture than vinification. Purity of fruits shines out, the tannic structure is very fine but somewhat hidden behind the fruits, and there’s a silky finish. Coming from what is surely one of the most traditional producers, this has none of the toughness of youth that you might think is the marker of tradition, and perhaps shows the greatest purity of fruit in my tastings so far. Roll on tradition.

Visit to Douro and Porto Day 5: Quinta Vale D. Maria (at the top of the mountain)

Posted on June 15, 2016 by Benjamin Lewin

During my week in the Douro, I met several producers who come from families long involved in Port, but whose companies or quintas have been sold or absorbed into larger companies during the ups and downs of production. Often they have started out again with a vineyard that was retained in the family. The Van Zellers owned Quinta da Noval until it was sold in 1993 as the result of problems in the family, and the eponymous production company, van Zellers, was sold with it. Cristiano van Zeller managed to buy back the name of van Zellers in 2006 when it had become more or less moribund, and this is now his negociant arm. Quinta Vale D. Maria has been in his wife Joana’s family for several hundred years, and had been leased to Symingtons until Cristiano obtained ownership in 1996.

The winery finally hove into view

I admit to a loss of confidence that there would be a winery at the end of the road as I drove up the single track unpaved road that hugs the edge of the mountain, but there near the top was Cristiano waiting at the winery. Built into the hillside, it’s larger than it appears from the outside, and is stuffed with equipment, but Cristiano is hoping to build a new underground winery some time soon. There’s a mixture of granite lagares and stainless steel fermentation vats, but the plan is to replace the vats with more lagares as Cristiano feels this gives more subtle results in the wine. Production is focused on table wines, both white and red, but there is also a range of tawny and vintage Ports.

The view from the winery

Wines under the van Zellers label include at least some purchased grapes, but the tendency is to depend more on sources within the estate. The wines of Quinta Vale D. Maria range from the entry level Rufo to single vineyard wines that highlight parts of the quinta. The one word I would use to describe the wines is sophisticated. Displaying silky textures, the whites have a definite trend towards minerality, especially when you go above entry level. The reds are elegant and silky with a lovely sense of precision to the black fruits on the palate. Although alcohol is high, it’s never evident on the palate. The style is subtle.

Several vintages of the eponymous wine, labeled just Quinta Vale D. Maria Douro, which comes from the center of the quinta, reinforced my impression that it’s a mistake to drink the red wines soon after release, because with an additional year or so, the aromatics really come to life. The single vineyard wines show the properties of different blends and locations, from Vinho de Francisca (named for Cristiano’s daughter who now works with him) to Vinho do Rio, which comes from the lowest altitude vineyards, close to the river, and offers the most dense impression of all.

The one word I would use to describe the wines is sophisticated. Displaying silky textures, the whites have a definite trend towards minerality, especially when you go above entry level. The reds are elegant and silky with a lovely sense of precision to the black fruits on the palate. Although alcohol is high, it’s never evident on the palate. The style is subtle. Some favorites are:

Quinta Vale D. Maria, Douro white, CV, 2015

This comes from a single vineyard of just less than a hectare at an altitude of 400-500 m. The vines are 80-90 years old, with a huge mix of varieties. Slight smoky spicy nose from oak. Smooth and silky on palate with mineral impression. Very fine and elegant.

Quinta Vale D. Maria, Douro, 2010

Slightly lifted black fruit aromatics on nose.Very fine, elegant ripe fruits fill a smooth palate with layers of black fruit flavors just coming out, supported by silky tannins on the finish. The main difference with younger vintages is not so much softening on the palate as the development of broader flavor variety.

Quinta Vale D. Maria, Douro, Vinho do Rio, 2014

This comes from the vineyard at the lowest altitude, by the river; it’s about 1 ha and has 29 grape varieties, although 47% is Tinta Barroca. The nose conveys a sense of density. Dense black fruits dominate the palate and are spicy on the finish, which shows velvety tannins. Quite reserved at this point, time is needed for the tannins to resolve to show the underlying smoothness of the palate.

Quinta Vale D. Maria, Port, Vintage 2009

Not so much sweet on the nose as slightly perfumed. Dark and sweet on palate but cut by lovely piquancy on finish, which is sweet with that touch of perfume coming back retronasally. Very good intensity.

A Perspective on Canadian Wine

Posted on May 27, 2016 by Benjamin Lewin

Most people probably know Canadian wine only through the prism of its famous ice wine, but actually Canada has around 12,000 ha of vineyards (mostly in British Columbia’s Okanagan Valley and Ontario’s Niagara Peninsula) roughly equivalent in total to Burgundy’s Côte d’Or. Most production is dry wine, with sparkling wine and ice wine a small proportion. A tasting at Canada House in London offered a rare opportunity to get a bead on whether this is a successful endeavor.

The wines were almost all VQA (Canada’s appellation system), so this is a look at the high end. I do think they’ve made a mistake in defining the VQAs in great detail at this stage, with ten sub-appellations in Niagara, for example, confusing rather than enlightening.

Living on the East coast of the United States, I am inclined to regard Canada as the frozen North, or anyway, distinctly cool climate, so I am frankly confused by the somewhat optimistic descriptions of climate by the Wine Council of Ontario. An amusing chart of annual temperatures in various wine growing regions appears to show that Bordeaux is warmer than the Languedoc and that Niagara is warmer than Bordeaux, which leaves me feeling somewhat sceptical.

Looking at weather station data, I place Niagara between Alsace and the Mosel. It is a little bit warmer in British Columbia, and there is certainly significant variation between the ends of Okanagan Valley as it extends for more than a hundred miles from north to south, but I am surprised to see the southern part described as warmer than Napa on the basis of degree days, as weather station data in the midpoint of the southern part suggest to me that temperatures are quite close to Alsace. Perhaps I am not paying sufficient attention to variations between microclimates.

Tasting the wines, the climate that most often comes to mind for comparison would be the Loire. With Riesling and Chardonnay as the main focus, but also a fair proportion of Pinot Gris, Gewurztraminer, and Viognier, the impression is distinctly cool climate.

Most Chardonnays at the tasting had too much oak for my taste, even though the stated usage of new oak was usually quite moderate. Even allowing for youthful character, I’m not certain there’s enough fruit to carry the oak. My impression of the Chardonnays from Niagara is that the citrus palate can be a bit too much driven by lemon. It’s fair to say that the style is European rather than New World, but given the cool climate character of the wines, I would suggest that Chablis would be a better model than the Côte d’Or, and the question should be how much (old) oak to use together with stainless steel, rather than what proportion of the oak (with many wines barrel fermented) should be new. With prices often around or above $35, competitiveness seems an issue.

Curiously given the cool climate impression, I was not generally impressed with the Rieslings. My main complaint is the style: Riesling character is often obscured by a significant level of residual sugar. I did not find a single dry Riesling. I’m inclined to wonder whether, if you can’t successfully make a dry wine, you should plant a different variety, but I suppose you might say that the best Canadian Rieslings do show a nice aperitif style.

Given the cool climate impression made by the whites, the successful production of reds is quite surprising, especially the focus on Bordeaux varieties rather than those more usually associated with cooler climates. Among them, Cabernet Franc appears to be the variety of choice for single varietal wines, and although there are certainly some creditable wines showing good varietal typicity, I find many to be on the edge for ripeness. Certainly the style is much more European than New World—the Loire would be the obvious comparison. The best Merlots or Bordeaux blends seem more like the Médoc than the Right Bank of Bordeaux in style.

To my surprise, Syrah outshines Cabernet Franc in Okanagan Valley. The Syrahs are evidently cool climate in character, definitely Syrah not Shiraz, in a fresh style with some elegance, which should mature in a savory direction; nothing with the full force impression of the New World. They remind me of the Northern Rhone in a cool year.

There are some successful Pinot Noirs in both British Columbia and Ontario, presenting somewhat along the lines of Sancerre or Germany. The difficulty is to bring out classic typicity in these cool climates, but the best are Pinot-ish in a light style.

Some producers are now making single vineyard wines. Is it worth it? It’s an interesting question whether at this stage of development the best terroirs have been well enough defined to produce reliably better wine every year or whether a better model would be to make cuvées from the best lots. There’s also the question of whether they are competitive at price points pushing beyond those of the estate bottlings.

Favorites at the tasting

Sparkling wine, Gaspereau Valley, Nova Scotia: Benjamin Bridge, 2008

This is called the Methode Classique Brut Reserve to emphasize the connection with Champagne: it comes from 61% Chardonnay and 39% Pinot Noir. It follows the tradition of Champagne with a faintly toasty nose showing some hints of citrus. Nice balance on palate with an appley impression. Flavors are relatively forceful. 11.5% 89

Syrah, Okanagan Valley, British Columbia: Painted Rocks Winery, 2013

Lovely fruits in a restrained style, fresh and elegant with beautiful balance, a touch of pepper at the end. A textbook Syrah in a slightly tight style. 14.9% 89

Syrah, Okanagan Valley, British Columbia: Burrowing Owl Vineyards, 2013

Black fruit impression on nose with hints of blueberries. Light style is quite Rhone-like on palate, nice clean fruits with faint buttery hints at end, more successful than the Bordeaux varieties. 14.5% 89

Pinot Noir, Beamsville Bench, Niagara Peninsula: Hidden Bench, Felseck Vineyard, 2013

Nicely rounded red fruits with faintly minty overtones bringing a slight herbal impression to the nose. Quite a sweet ripe impression on palate with touch of spice at the end. Slight viscosity on palate brings to mind the style of Pinot Noir in Germany. 12.7% 88

Cabernet Franc, Creek Shores, Niagara Peninsula: Tawse Family Winery, Van Bers Vineyard, 2012

Nose shows some faint tobacco and chocolate, with palate following with typically herbal notes of Cabernet Franc. Dry tobacco-ish finish. Does it have enough fruit to stand up when the tannins resolve? 13.0% 88

Chardonnay, Niagara: Norman Hardie Winery, Cuvee L, 2012

More restrained nose than Hardie’s other Chardonnay cuvees but some oak does show through. Nice balance on palate between oak and slightly lemony fruits. Follows Chablis in style. 12.4% 88

Viognier, Okanagan Valley, British Columbia: Blasted Church Vineyards, 2014

Barrel fermented with some new oak. Faintly perfumed nose with the perfume somewhat clearer on palate. Fry impression to finish short of phenolic. Nice long finish on which you can just see the oak. 13.0% 89

The Tipping Point in Bordeaux

Posted on May 18, 2016 by Benjamin Lewin

I’ve always thought that the tipping point when Bordeaux changed from its traditional herbaceous style to the modern fruit-driven style was 1982. A series of vintages of Lynch Bages has caused me to revise that conclusion and move the tipping point forward at least to 1990.

Considered by many at the time to have an unprecedented richness that would preclude aging, the 1982 was certainly the first vintage to be instantly delicious on release. It continued to be eminently drinkable in the same style for twenty years, but around 2000 showed the first signs of reversion to type, which is to say showing a delicious touch of herbaceousness to counterpoise the fruits.

My recent experiences with Lynch Bages 1982 show significant bottle variation, with the best bottles showing a generous softness that recalls the original character of the vintage, but others showing an extreme cigar-box like dryness that more resembles the 1975 vintage and suggests the fruits are drying out. At least for the last ten years, it’s been reverting to type, which is say to the pre-1982 tradition, so the change in character was more a matter of style for the first decade than a permanent tipping point.

The lush, rich character of the 1990 far out shadows the 1982, although it also now shows significant bottle variation. The range recently has varied from a bottle showing a touch of classic cigar box to cut the fruit to one that was completely undeveloped, rich and aromatic to the point at which first thoughts might turn to the New World. The latter seems to be the more common experience, and the sheer power of the aromatics makes me feel this may be a Cheshire Cat wine, with nothing left behind as the structure resolves. It seems so completely different in character from traditional Bordeaux as to represent a permanent break with tradition.

In terms of pinning down a tipping point, the 1988 is definitely old school; pleasant enough, losing some fruit now, but in the tradition of restraint rather than extroversion. By comparison with the 1990, the 1989 seems to offer reminiscences of traditional Bordeaux; faintly animal notes might suggest a touch of Brett (a big problem in Bordeaux at the time), making it difficult to judge the force of the fruits, but although they are deep and black, in the end the sense of tannic structure brings a restraint that is lacking from the 1990.

Along with these recent vintages, I have also had the 1961. To my palate, this is unmistakably the real thing: elegant fruits, lacy acidity, a touch of cigar box. A tribute to Bordeaux’s traditional longevity, it seems hardly to have changed in character since I first tasted it in 1982. For all the technical advances in viticulture and vinification, I don’t think any vintage since 1961 has produced its equal. I will accept that there have been great advances, especially in turning vintages that would have been write-offs into good wines, but why can’t we produce anything of the like of 1961 any more?

First Ever Tasting of All Dom Pérignon P2 Plenitudes

Posted on April 12, 2016 by Benjamin Lewin

Dom Pérignon’s cellarmaster, Richard Geoffrey, introduced the P2 Plenitude range in London today with the first-ever tasting of all available vintages. Plenitude takes the concept of late disgorgement to a logical extreme.

Richard Geoffroy explaining the wines

Late disgorgement has been used by many vintage super-cuvées as a means of bringing out Champagne’s maximum aging potential. Vintage Champagne ages in the bottle, of course, but its evolution is oxidative, replacing the initial freshness with notes of nuts, toast, and brioche. The same Champagne kept on the lees ages quite differently.

“The beauty of lees aging is that it is not passive, there is an active aging. The lees feed the wine – or I could say that the wine eats the lees, they are swallowed up to give more viscosity, more intensity. It’s all possible because yeast lees fight off oxidation, there is no better anti-oxidative agent than the lees. We believe that this element of active maturation is part of winemaking as much as terroir,” says Richard Geoffroy.

Four P2 Plenitudes in the typical bottles

Lees aging is a few years for most vintage Champagne, but is extended for top cuvées, where the dissolution of the lees into the wine becomes an important part of their character. Dom Pérignon is first released a minimum 8 years after the vintage. The same wine, released after some years additional lees’ aging, was originally called the Oenothèque, but has now been renamed Plenitude, to reflect the belief that aging is not a linear process, that there are certain discontinuous points in time where the wine reaches a stage of additional complexity that merits disgorgement.

For the P2 Plenitude, this happens around 12 years after the vintage, and we tasted the 1998, 1996, 1995, and 1993 vintages, all disgorged around that point. A second Plenitude occurs at least 18 years after the vintage, and there are P3 Plentitudes from vintages of the seventies and eighties. This takes the wine to its ultimate complexity, says Richard Geoffroy: “The energy of time in a P3 brings all the elements into place to make the wine as elongated as it can be.”

Vintage character comes out as clearly in the Plenitudes as it did in the original releases. 1998 is full, ripe, and generous; 1996 is taut and mineral, with more pronounced salinity than the first release; 1995 is refined and precise; 1993 offers the faintest suggestion of blowsiness. “I keep explaining that we are on a mission to recognize the Champagne years for what they are,” Richard Geoffroy explains. “Many people making vintage Champagne are too shy, they make it like a sort of super nonvintage.” If the aim is to reflect vintage character, even perhaps to intensify it given the nature of late disgorgement, it’s certainly been achieved.

There’s some concern in the trade that wines that have been disgorged late won’t age as long in the bottle as those disgorged previously, but the P2 Plenitudes seem to me both to have similar aging potential to the original releases (I would say the original 1996 release is just about reaching a limit now, and I think the P2 1996 will last about the same twenty years) and to reflect vintage character (1996 will have the greatest longevity, 1993 or perhaps 1998 will have the shortest).

Do all vintages justify re-release as P2 or P3 Plenitudes? “All vintages are meant to give P2 and P3, it’s built into the criteria… And success with P2 feeds back to P1. It puts the whole thing into perspective. Dom Pérignon has sometimes been criticized for being too tight at first release. I’m very happy now that P1 can be appreciated for what it is, knowing that P2 is to come,” is Richard’s final word.

Tasting Notes

1998: Disgorged 2009/2010. Full ripe impression to nose. Ripe and powerful on palate, good flavor variety and intensity, yet still showing fresh notes of citrus and apple at the end. Some more mature notes of chocolate and coffee come out faintly in the glass. 93 Drink now-2028.

1996: Disgorged 2008. Taut impression of vintage comes straight off nose, following to palate. The most mineral of all the Plenitudes, citric with overtones of salinity. Wide flavor variety but very fresh. The most structured of all, yet also the smoothest texture. Wonderful contradictions. 95 Drink now-2028.

1995: Disgorged 2007. Very pale color. Some sense of development just beginning with touch of toast and brioche. Very finely textured on palate, with great sense of precision to the acidity. Palate less developed than nose suggests, with general impression of citric minerality, and just a hint of toast and brioche at very end. 94 Drink now-2028.

1993: Relatively developed impression increases in glass; disgorged in 2006, this is the oldest of the Plenitudes in the flight, but it feels disproportionately older than the 1995 disgorged a year earlier. Granular impression to palate with greater sense of viscosity than other vintages. Impression of maturity enhanced by hints of coffee and roast on finish. 92 Drink now-2025

Is Bordeaux 1990 Finally Starting to Come Around?

Posted on December 4, 2015 by Benjamin Lewin

My question does not reflect concern as to whether 1990 Bordeaux is ready to drink, as the vintage has been drinking well for quite some years now (and to my mind is distinctly more reliable than 1989, with which it is often compared). It addresses the deeper question of whether this vintage will end up true to the old traditions of Bordeaux or will more reflect the modern era.

The driving force for this question in my mind is the history of the 1982 vintage, which showed an unprecedented drinkability on release. For the first two decades, the wines were lovely, but with a distinctly richer and more overtly fruit-driven spectrum than previous top vintages. Then around year 2000, they began to revert to type, with the left bank wines beginning to show traces of delicious herbaceousness to offset the fruits. Since then they have developed along the lines of classic Bordeaux.

My question is whether vintages that have been successively richer than 1982, such as 1990, 2000, 2005, and others, will show that same quality of reversion to type or whether they are so much richer, with higher tannins, greater dry extract, and greater alcohol, that they will follow a different path, more New World-ish you might say. Until now I have been concerned that they might fail to develop that delicious savory counterpart to the fruits that to me is the quintessence of Bordeaux as it ages. At a splendid gala dinner held by the Commanderie de Bordeaux of New York, which focused on the 1990 vintage, I got my first sense that these wines may now be moving in a savory direction.

Chateau Figeac now shows its structural bones more clearly than a few years back. Herbaceousness is evident to the point at which it seems much more dominated by Cabernet Sauvignon than its actual one third, and I might well have placed it on the left bank in a blind tasting. This now seems classic to the point at which I am worried whether herbaceousness will overtake the fruits as they decline.

Lynch Bages is at its peak, and little altered from two or three years ago. Here Cabernet Sauvignon shows more as a subtle touch of cigar box than herbaceousness; this is completely classic in offering a faint counterpoise to the black fruit spectrum of the palate. That refreshing uplift is what I love about Bordeaux. (I see a direct line from the 1985, where cigar box dominates the fruits, delicious but not as subtle as the perfection of the 1990.)

Chateaux Palmer and Latour are still dominated by the richness of the vintage; in fact they seem to have put on weight and to be richer than they were three or four years ago. Palmer has gone from the traditional delicacy of Margaux with violets on the palate three years ago to a palate that is now dominated by rich, round black fruits. This is rather plump for a traditional Margaux, although as refined as always, but the signs of potential reversion to type were there in the past, and I expect them to return .

It’s not exactly vinicide to drink the Latour now, but it would be missing the point. The wine shows impressive richness and power, with deep black fruits where the first faint signs of development are beginning to show. There are plenty of precedents for Latour requiring decades to come around—the 1928 wasn’t drinkable until the late 1970s—but this wine is certainly enjoyable now. It’s not unready because of a tannic presence, but because the fruits have yet to develop the flavor variety and complexity that will come over the next decade. In the context of my basic question, this is classic.

So there is good news and bad news. The good news is that the 1990 Bordeaux is now beginning to develop in a way that I think of as reverting to type. The bad news is that it has taken 25 years. The 1982s took 18 years to reach a comparable point. If we fast forward and try to predict the path for the 2005s or 2009s, we may be looking at 30 years.

Alcohol and Tannins in St. Emilion: Cheshire Cat Years?

Posted on November 9, 2015 by Benjamin Lewin

Austerity is not a word that often comes to mind in the context of St. Emilion, but it did at this year’s New York tasting of Grand Cru Classés, which compared the 2010 and 2012 vintages. This gave me much pause for thought by comparison with the tasting two years ago of the 2009 and 2010 vintages (Oenologues Triumph in St. Emilion). Last time round, the main impression (driven by 2009 but not that much different in 2010) was the softness of the palate, with fruits supported by furry tannins. This time the impression was of much tighter wines; the 2010s have tightened up, and the 2012s can verge on tough. These were not the lush, approachable wines for which St. Emilion is reputed; words like fleshy or opulent never appeared in my tasting notes.

Alcohol levels were punishing, often around 15% for 2010, and a half percent or percent lower in 2012. Now that the fruits of 2010 have lost their initial youthful enthusiasm, alcohol and tannin are driving the palate. What showed as a structural backbone to the fruits two years ago now seems more skeletal. It’s fair to say that alcohol is not directly obtrusive in many wines, but it has an indirect effect in enhancing the bitterness of tannins on the finish. Some wines have an almost tart quality at the end, which clashes with the fruits rather than refreshing. The traditional generosity of Merlot in St. Emilion is largely missing, and I often get an impression biased more towards Cabernet Franc than the dominant Merlot.

It wouldn’t be unfair to say that the 2012s are starting out where the 2010s leave off, with an almost sharp tannic finish often dominating the fruits. This makes me quite concerned as to how they will show in another two years’ time. I don’t often get the impression that the fruits will really emerge when the tannins resolve. Most chateaux have managed to achieve decent ripeness in the tannins, but occasionally you get suspicions of green. The 2012 wines have less alcohol than the 2010s, but they also have less fruit concentration, so the problem of maintaining balance as the fruits thin out is more or less equivalent. The fruits make them seem like wines for the mid-term, but I’m not sure the tannins will resolve in time; and they don’t have the stuffing for the long term. You might expect the greater fruit concentration to let the 2010s resist better, and I’m not so much worried about whether the fruits will outlast the tannins, which are mostly quite fine, but I have a concern that 2010 may be the year of the Cheshire Cat: what will dominate when the tannins resolve is the grin of the alcohol.

Very few of these wines, from either 2010 or 2012, are ready to drink: most need from two to four years more. Of course, this situation would scarcely be a surprise to any survivors who remember Bordeaux of the pre-1982 era. I will say that I saw more evidence of character in these wines than in the 2009s (and the 2010s two years ago) when there seemed to be a sort of interdenominational quality to them: the present question is whether you can handle the character of a bitter tang at the end. There’s evidently quite a lot of extract in today’s wines, and it’s hard to say whether that will give them the stuffing to develop well as tannins resolve, or whether it will remain awkward. In most cases, I preferred the 2010 to the 2012, but in those instances where I preferred the 2012, it was usually due to lower alcohol letting the fruits speak more freely.

My favorite wines were Chateau Fombrauge and Grand Corbin-Despagne in 2010 and Chateau Yon Figeac in 2012.

Chateau Fombrauge, 2010

Slightly nutty, soft impression from nose. Palate well balanced between black fruits and refreshing acidity; still something of a tannic bite at the end. The structure is there but not obtrusive, and the overall impression is refined, showing precision in the fruits. 91 points, drink 2016-2027.

Chateau Grand Corbin-Despagne, 2010

Some black fruits poking through restrained nose, leading into good balance on palate between refined black fruits and tannins with chocolaty overtones. A little tight at the end but should soften in next year or so. Refined impression avoids the bitter tang at the end of many wines. 90 points, drink 2016-2027.

Chateau Yon Figeac, 2012

More sense of black fruits and spices than in the 2010. Refined palate makes an elegant impression, with a touch of tannin at the end. I like the sense of precision in the fruits and the balance. Fine structure should offer some support for aging. 90 points, drink 2017-2026.

A Visit with Ernie Loosen

Posted on October 2, 2015 by Benjamin Lewin

Not only is Dr. Loosen one of the top producers in the Mosel, but Ernie Loosen is one of the most interesting people to visit, as he has a wide range of activities and trenchant opinions on many issues. A day spent with Ernie is an insight into trends in wine production in Germany in general and the Mosel specifically.

Ernie’s mother and father were both single children who inherited wine estates. He is the first dedicated winemaker in the family: his grandfather was in business, and his father was a lawyer. The estates were regarded as an investment, although Ernie’s father later became fully involved as a retirement activity. Ernie took over in 1988, and combined the estates under one name (previously they had been separate in Bernkastel and Urzig). Bernkastel is his mother’s estate, which produced only sweet wines. His paternal grandfather thought that sweetness was a fault, and his estate produced only dry wine until 1953 when it changed to fruity-style wines. Ernie introduced dry wines when he took over. Here in a microcosm is the great change in Germany to trocken (dry) wines.

Ernie recollects that sweet wines took over after the war because the technology became widely available. Ernie’s view is practical. “Before the technology the only way to have sweet wines was to do it naturally. The barrels of sweet wines got the higher prices, so this led to a drive to have technology that would make it generally more feasible. After the war, sweet was absolutely big, everybody wanted sweetness. I remember people drinking only Auslese. The demand for dry wines shrank so dramatically there was no market. My father stopped producing them when he took over in 1953. In the 1990s the whole fashion in Germany switched from fruity to dry; now we hardly sell any fruity wines in Germany.”

The ability to make high quality dry wines is relatively recent, and owes much to global warming. “It would have been more difficult for my father or grandfather to make great dry wines in their cooler conditions. We did make some great dry wines when the cellarmaster forgot to stop fermentation – there was some good 1985. But every time I drink it – it’s nice now – I wonder how it was 30 years ago; it must have been sour and not at all attractive. So I don’t see global warming as pessimistic here.”

In fact, Ernie is quite pragmatic about global warming. “The reaction to global warming is a bit fatal – we are not in the hands of global warming, we will not have to plant Syrah here in ten years. We have enough viticultural tools, we can alter yields; you used to have to reduce yields drastically to get ripeness, but we don’t have those really cool vintages like 1984 any more. My father and grandfather had only three ripe vintages per decade. We get our fruit ripe every year, but not over-ripe, that is the difference. We jumped up in the last 30 years from average ripeness at 8.5% alcohol to 10.5% alcohol – but that’s not high.”

A major difference in approach from the past is that now it’s the grapes with greatest potential alcohol that go into the dry wine. “There is selection in the vineyard right from the first day of picking, with different buckets for healthy fruit, partially botrytized (Auslese), and totally botrytized (BA etc). For the healthy grapes, if potential alcohol is less than 10.5% it goes to Kabinett, at 10.5-11.5% it goes to Spätlese, over 11.5% it goes to dry wine. We would never be able to produce only dry wines because being on the river and having moisture, we always have some botrytis.”

One of Ernie’s major concerns today is to produce dry wines that age well. “For me a great wine can only be a great wine if it has aging potential. Before 2008 we produced our dry wines mostly in stainless steel with cultured yeasts. They performed beautifully as young wines – the stainless steel really brings out beautiful fruits – but I call them poppy wines because as soon as the fruit lightened after a year they became one dimensional. The driving force (for rethinking) was a 1950 Urzig Würzgarten which was brilliant now. So what did my grandfather do? I wanted to make dry wines that will age again. So we are now making wines with more aging potential – they may not be so charming when young. I have changed many things to make the wines longer aging.”

Now there is a Reserve program for the oldest vineyard in each of the three major terroirs, with 20,000 bottles being set aside each year. In due course, these will become late releases. With lunch we had a Reserve wine from Wehlenner Sonnenuhr (not yet released): just one cask was produced, and the wine spent 24 months on full lees. It shows more depth and body than the Grosses Gewachs Sonnenuhr, with more grip and less delicacy. “This is exactly what I’m looking for,” says Ernie, “it should be closed now or it can’t open out with age.”

Comparing Loosen wines is always an exercise in understanding terroir. In the estate wines, Blue Slate is more precise and fragrant than Red Slate. In the Trocken single vineyard wines, Wehlener Sonnenuhr is delicate and elegant, Urziger Würzgarten has more weight with hints of the famous spice, Erdenner Treppchen shows slightly more herbal aromatics. Moving to Kabinett or Spätlese, the same relative differences show, but the wines are fuller bodied, with more of a delicious sweet/sour edge to the finish. As the Reserve wine program matures, there will be more opportunities to see how these differences play out with age.

Since this photo was taken, a major expansion has been undertaken and new cellars are being constructed to the right of the house.

What eBooks Have Got Right and What Amazon Has Got Wrong

Posted on September 29, 2015 by Benjamin Lewin

With Wines of France now published, I’ve been working on an electronic edition. With 350 pages of text discussing the wine regions of France, and 250 pages for profiles of individual producers, it’s really rather big for a single electronic book, but I think it may be useful as a series of seven guides to the individual regions: Bordeaux, Burgundy, Champagne, Rhône, Loire, Alsace, Languedoc & Provence. Each guide will have the information about the region from the book plus the profiles of producers from the region, and maps to show where to find the producers for people who want to plan an itinerary.

It seems blindingly obvious that an electronic format is a good way to go for a guide, as it’s easy to include direct links, e.g. to producers’ web sites, maps of the region, or other information, and also can be updated quickly and easily. But surprisingly the eBook format is not very hospitable. The problem is that the content – like any guide – is heavily dependent on graphics – pictures of the region, maps to show appellations and vineyard locations, maps to show where to find producers, and so on – and these are difficult to handle in the electronic format. One problem is the small size of the screen; but more important is the difficulty of achieving a layout like a print book, where the big effort is always to get the graphics close to the text that relates to them.

It’s possible to do a reasonable job for the generic eBook format, although it will come off better on a tablet than an iPad. But you can see the maps in color, legends can be fixed neatly below or besides them, and text can be wrapped around them. You can’t see a two page spread, of course, but you can move around the text and maps in a pretty workmanlike way, and of course you can go off to ancillary links quite easily. For people who carry iPads or tablets around, I think this will be quite useful.

The big problem comes with the Kindle, which, after all, is more than half of the eBook market. The programming for Kindle is amazingly primitive: Amazon must have made an early decision that the main appeal would be for books which are essentially text only. (This reminds me of the disastrous decision IBM made when it introduced the personal computer, that there would be different formats for black and white screens (no graphics) compared to color screens. And it’s really difficult to see any justification for Kindle using a different format from all other eBooks.)

For the Kindle, this is not just an issue of color, although it’s certainly more difficult to use maps and so on in black and white: it’s really difficult to do any sort of layout for the Kindle, as the software essentially limits the material to flowing in strictly linear order. Many of the commands that work with the generic eBook format have been disabled for the Kindle. That’s why so many books have odd spaces and look weird. The situation is supposed to be better with the latest formats for Fire, closer to the generic eBook format, but that’s not yet a really significant part of the market. I appeal to Amazon to make it possible to integrate graphics with text for the basic Kindle, as this will open the whole market up to guide books and other books that extend beyond simple text.

My first eGuide will be New World Cabernet Sauvignon: The Wines and Guide to Top 100 Vineyards, in a few weeks. I have some tastings to complete so that it will be really up to date, then it will be ready for release. The seven guides to French regions will follow in the New Year. All the guides will be available for both iPads and other devices as well as for Kindle, but it would be great if Amazon improved the Kindle format.

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