So the Cork Is Crucial in Premature Oxidation of White Burgundy

Because of the problem of premature oxidation, I no longer cellar white Burgundy for the long term, and I am drinking all my older vintages. At the moment I’m going through 2005, with generally disappointing results: most wines show some oxidation, with about half being at the point where the wine is drinkable but has lost much of its true character, a quarter being past the point where you really want to drink them, and a quarter still showing reasonably on form. (Curiously, the few 2002s that I also have left sometimes show better than the 2005s). This is specifically a problem of the Cote d’Or: with Chablis, my 2002s seem to be coming to end of their natural life span, but the 2005s are still lively.

It is fair to say that until this week, I have hardly had any 2005 white Cote d’Or in the past year that has been absolutely on form. But then I had an interesting experience with the Bonneau du Martray Corton Charlemagne. At first I thought we were not going to be able to drink the bottle, because I could not get the cork out. It seemed to be wedged in so tightly, it required more than the strength I could apply to extract it, but finally it came out. And then a revelation! The wine was a classically pale color. Not a trace of oxidation in appearance, or on nose or palate. The steely, mineral character was like turning back the clock two decades: I thought this style had disappeared from old white Burgundy. I would say it was at its peak, except that since there is no sign of it tiring, it might well go for another decade in classical fashion. If the cork is tight, that is.

I have had this wine three times previously, twice from my own cellar, once at the domain with Jean-Charles le Bault de Morinière. All of the previous bottles showed a more oxidative style, mostly as a more nutty texture. I did not open the bottle tasted at the domain, of course, but the other two showed normal extraction of the cork. One opened only a week earlier had a faint touch of perceptible oxidation in the background. I’m not sure whether you could call this premox ten years after the vintage. As Dominique Lafon said when I discussed this issue with him, “They open an old bottle and say it’s oxidized, but if you open a 1996, it’s not premature oxidation, it’s the aging process.”

Up to a point, there’ll always be bottle variation with older wines, but my experience with white Burgundy is that it’s far greater than it used to be: one bottle can be too oxidized to drink, while another from the case has just a trace of oxidation. The correlation between a cork that was too tight to extract and the total absence of oxidation suggests that corks may still be part of the problem. Actually, I don’t think corks are worse than they used to be, in fact they are better, but the wine is more on the edge (as the result low use of sulfur and other changes in winemaking), so that any lapse in the cork is absolutely revealing.

It’s a sign of the conservatism of Burgundy that although the premox problem strikes at the very heart of what white Burgundy is all about, there’s been almost no move to screwcaps. If ten or fifteen years ago, when it was clear the problem was not transitory, producers had at least experimented with screwcaps, by now there would be a definitive answer as to whether they would be an acceptable solution or would bring other problems. Given my recent experience, however, I cannot understand why tighter-fitting corks weren’t tried at least for a partial solution.

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When Should You Send Wine Back at a Restaurant?

I hate sending wine back at a restaurant. Of course I will do this when a bottle is flawed, but there’s always the potential for some disagreement or unpleasantness. My working rule is that this is appropriate only when the wine is clearly flawed, not merely because I don’t like it. Usually this is because the bottle is corked, and in the vast majority of cases the sommelier accepts immediately that the bottle is defective, but occasionally there is a sommelier who doesn’t recognize the taint and is awkward about it. But I was brought to a new question this week by a wine that was so poor – although technically it was not flawed by being corked or oxidized or having any other single identifiable defect – that I wondered whether being completely atypical should count as a reason for rejection.

Increasing problems with premature oxidation of white Burgundy have made this, my staple when I want a white wine in a restaurant, more of a risky venture when the wine is more than a year or so old. Once again, most sommeliers will recognize madeirization as a flaw, but from time to time I’ve had difficulties with this, especially in France. “These are the typical aromas of the vintage,” a sommelier explained patronizingly to me at a grand restaurant in Provence when a white Burgundy was madeirized. As politely as I could, I said that I had a cellar full of that vintage and none had this problem. With very bad grace, he agreed to take the bottle back, but warned me to order a different vintage, because all his wines of that vintage had the same problem. The storage conditions must have been terrible. These days I have taken whenever ordering a white Burgundy to asking at the outset whether it has any problem with oxidation. Often enough a sommelier will say there have been problems, and advises me to choose something else. But having asked the question, at least I then feel free to send the bottle back if there is any taint by oxidation.

Given the erratic nature of cork taint, there would not be much point in asking whether a wine is likely to be corked, but even with this most easily recognizable flaw, there can be doubt. When a bottle is well and truly tainted, it’s a fairly easy decision to reject, but this can be more difficult when there’s a subthreshhold level of taint, enough to suppress the fruits but not enough to show any clear evidence of TCA on the nose. Actually, I think this is a killer for the producer: if you don’t know this particular producer, you can easily conclude that he’s no good rather than that the wine is flawed. In such cases I have usually felt obliged to stay with the bottle. When you have a clear expectation for the wine, you may be able to say fairly that it is flawed. But given people’s widely varying sensitivities to cork taint, there can be problems in marginal cases. My most amusing incident was at the restaurant Les Bacchanales in Vence, where a bottle of a recent vintage white Burgundy was suspiciously lacking in fruits. When I expressed concern, the waiter took it over to the diner at the next table, who was a local dignitary on the wine and food scene. We could hear him saying, “no, I do not see any problem here,” which the waiter duly came back to report. As the taint was slowly becoming more evident, I stood my ground, and indeed a substitute bottle was vastly better, A few minutes later the chef came out. “I do apologize,” he said, that bottle is terribly tainted. “I would not even cook with it.” So here we had a living demonstration of variation in sensitivity, increasing from the food writer to the chef, where I was uncomfortably the piggy in the middle. That’s why it can be so difficult.

This week I am visiting producers of Cabernet Sauvignon in Napa Valley as part of the research for my next book, Claret & Cabs. My usual habit is to try to perform a reality check at dinner by having a wine that we have tasted at a producer, to see whether experiencing a whole bottle with food gives me the same impression as a tasting. However, having dinner at the Auberge du Soleil, I was so offended by the markups on the Napa Cabernets that I decided to try something else. My usual experience in wine regions is that restaurants showcase the local producers, and while it would be naive to expect to find bargains on the wine list, often there is some wine, perhaps an older vintage that hasn’t been terribly marked up, that offers an interesting experience without completely breaking the bank. Slowly I have become adjusted to markups moving from two fold to more than three fold, but at over four times retail prices, I draw the line. One example makes the point. The Spottswoode Napa Cabernet 2000 is $360 on the list at Auberge – but the restaurant at Domaine Chandon has it at $160. Now I’m prepared to believe that expenses are higher at Auberge, but not that they justify a price of more than double compared to another good local restaurant. The wine averages around $80 at retail, so the markup at Auberge is well over my line.

So I did something I have not done before and ordered a wine from another region altogether, in fact from Burgundy, as  I thought a lighter style anyway would fit better with our particular meal. This was the Nuits St. Georges 2005 from Confuron-Cotetidot. I think it’s a reasonable expectation that in 2005 any decent producer should have been able to make an acceptable wine at communal level. But this was a throwback to the old days of Nuits St. Georges, and I do not mean that as a compliment. It had no nose at all and no fruit could be detected on the palate. If this had been a Bourgogne AOC, I would have shrugged and said that I expected a better result in this vintage. But this tasted (if the word taste can be used at all in conjunction with this wine) as though it had been overcropped to hell. I hesitated, but decided that as it had no detectable flaw, it would be unfair to send it back. However, when the wine deteriorated in the glass to the point that all you could taste was a medicinal acidity, I called over the sommelier and asked her to taste it. “Ah it has racy acidity, a bit surprising for 2005,” she said. I explained that my problem was more with the lack of fruit, and she wondered whether decanting would help. I did not feel that decanting could bring out nonexistent fruit, however. She offered to bring another wine, but I did not feel like starting another bottle at this point (and I had somewhat lost confidence in the selection of Burgundy), but we ended up with a couple of glasses of the Beaux Frères Willamette Pinot Noir from 2008 (surprisingly taut for this producer and vintage), but definitely wine as opposed to the previous mix of acid and water.

I still hold to the position that you can’t send a wine back just because you don’t quite like it, and  I cringe at the thought of imagining flaws because a wine fails to come up to expectation. But in retrospect, I think perhaps I should have rejected this wine at the outset, without crossing the line, on the grounds that it was so far from the typicity of Nuits St. Georges that it was unreasonable for it to be presented on the wine list. Here is the tasting note

J.Confuron-Cotetidot, Nuits St. Georges, 2005

No nose at all. Rather characterless and lacking fruit on the palate, seems dilute and overcropped. No obvious flaws, but only a thin somewhat medicinal, slightly acid, quality to the palate. Only fruit character is an amorphous somewhat flat medicinal note. Would not be a credit to the Bourgogne AOC. 75 points.

What’s Happening with 2005 White Burgundy?

I was brought up completely short this week by tasting several of Etienne Sauzet’s Pulignys from the 2005 vintage. I was expecting the wines to have developed nicely by now, filling in the lushness on the palate with some complexity. What I found was completely unexpected.

Personally I’ve never been quite certain about Sauzet, because I have usually found the wines to display their oak a touch too obviously, most often showing some overt vanillin when young (although new oak is usually less than a third in the premier crus). But when the 2005 vintage was released, I decided this would be a good moment to get a mixed case and see how the various wines age, because Etienne Sauzet is often considered one of Burgundy’s top domains. Most of its holdings are in Puligny Montrachet, and there are several premier crus, as well as tiny amounts of two grand crus. The wines I tasted this week were the village Puligny Montrachet, and two of the better known premier crus, Les Perrières and Les Folatières.

The first surprise was that the village Puligny and the Perrières were barely distinguishable: I had expected a significant step up in quality. The reason was that both are losing their fruits fast, and a strong phenolic emphasis overpowered the palate. The Folatières was similar, giving the impression that it’s just a few months behind on the same path of development.

I would not have been surprised if these wines had showed this sort of development after say ten or so years, but even allowing for the fact that white Burgundy needs to be drunk much earlier than used to be the case (but mostly because of premature oxidation), I was startled to find the wines apparently over the hill after only six years. I don’t think condition is a problem, because the wines were all bought on release from a reputable merchant (Zachys in New York, imported via Briacliff Manor according to the back label).

I am not certain, but I don’t think this is the phenomenon the Germans call atypical aging, (untypischen Alterungsnote in the original German), although that also is marked by the accumulation of phenolic aromas. (Atypical aging is caused by accumulation of naphthalene-like aromas caused by 2-aminoacetophenone, a compound related to methyl anthranilate which causes the foxy aroma in grapes of non-vinifera varieties. These Sauzet wines simply tasted as though they’d had too much skin contact, or otherwise picked up phenolic compounds.) Anyway, if it is atypical aging, which usually more affects aromatic varieties (and the cause of which, so far as I know, is still unknown) this should become obvious with further development over the next few months.

Certainly there was at least no sign of premature oxidation. First noticed with the 1996 vintage, this has become the major problem with white Burgundy. Its cause is also unknown, and it seems to strike completely unpredictably. It doesn’t usually show as soon as the current vintage, but earlier this year at a dinner at Le Bernardin, Aldo, the sommelier showed me two examples of a Puligny and a premier cru of the 2006 vintage that had just arrived, straight from a famous domain, and which were already completely shot with strong madeirized aromas and flavors.

What with one thing and another, white Burgundy seems to be becoming a chancy proposition, so to check that my palate hasn’t simply gone out of whack I tried another premier cru from another producer from the 2005 vintage. This was Ramonet’s Boudriotte from Chassagne Montrachet. As Ramonet is considered one of the very best producers in Chassagne Montrachet (many would say the best), this seemed a fair comparison.

Ramonet’s wine was up to his usual standard, and I enjoyed the Boudriotte, but it left me not completely convinced that the phenolic problem was confined to Sauzet. Ramonet’s wine had to my mind a better balance of fruit to phenolics, but it seemed to be going in the same direction as Sauzet, with those phenolic overtones just a bit too present for comfort. At the time of the 2005 and 2006 vintages, some critics felt that the 2005s were too opulent, too lacking in acidity, and that the fresher 2006s would last better. This may be correct, but I don’t think lower acidity as such is responsible for this rather rapid aging of Sauzet and (perhaps) of Ramonet. As the Ramonet left me undecided as to whether this is a general problem with the vintage, I turned to another wine, what they might call a “banker” on the M.W. tasting exam, meaning that it is absolutely reliable. This was the (white) Clos des Mouches, the best premier cru in Beaune, from Drouhin.

Ah ha: here I felt I was tasting a mature Burgundy at its peak. Yes, that’s a small cause for concern, since a decade or so ago, I might have felt that a top premier cru should not peak until a decade of age, but here was lovely wine without any problems. I do feel that it somewhat makes the case for the advantages of 2006 over 2005, since it shows more opulence and less potential longevity than usual. It’s more peaches and cream than citrus, you can still see some signs of its maturation in oak, but the phenolics are pushed well into the background by the richness of the fruits.

So where do I stand on 2005 white Burgundy? Very cautious. The best premier crus probably should be drunk in the next three or four years: perhaps the grand crus will last longer. But I am afraid that some wines are aging so rapidly that already they are past their peak. Caught between rapid aging and premature oxidation, it seems increasingly risky to cellar white Burgundy. Perhaps the 2006 vintage will fare better than 2005. Watch this space.

Tasting Notes

Puligny Montrachet, Domaine Etienne Sauzet, 2005

Already the fruit is drying out and the wine is going over the hill. The lightening of the fruits is leaving slightly herbaceous aromas and flavors to dominate nose and palate. The original vanillin is turning vegetal. The wine becomes somewhat phenolic on the finish.  Overall impression is that the wine is just too tired and old, very disappointing. 86 Drink now.

Les Perrières, Puligny Montrachet, Domaine Etienne Sauzet, 2005

Only a very faint whiff of Sauzet’s usual vanillin, more of a faintly herbaceous touch on the nose. There’s a touch of vanillin on the palate, which tends to citrus fruits including grapefruit, and quite an acid finish. The acidity pushes the sensation of herbaceousness, which strengthens in the glass. The general impression is that already the fruit is drying out. This is a most disappointing result for what should be a top vintage.  86 Drink now.

Les Folatières, Puligny Montrachet, Domaine Etienne Sauzet, 2005

A slightly citric nose has hints of phenolics. On the palate the citrus fruits are tinged with stone fruits, with a slightly acrid touch of phenolic grapefruit and some remnants of the original vanillin. Overall quite a decent balance, but the general spectrum of aromas and flavors seems to be following the village Puligny and the Perrières down the same route to strengthening phenolics at the expense of fruit. I think this will last a few months longer, but I’m afraid that a year from now it will have the same problems. 87 Drink soon.

La Boudriotte, Chassagne Montrachet, Domaine Ramonet, 2005

Citrus nose initially shows some faint phenolic overtones, which then give over to a nutty impression. The citrus fruits on the palate are supported by good acidity, with a touch of heat on the finish, and those phenolic notes coming back. Nicely integrated flavors right across the palate, but I’m worried that the phenolic notes will intensify as the fruits lighten up, and this will limit longevity. Drink in next year or so. 88 Drink-2013.

Clos des Mouches, Beaune, Joseph Drouhin, 2005

Nice golden hue shows a little age. Interesting nose has some herbal notes of anise, with the underlying fruits more peaches than citrus, A faintly exotic note of stewed peaches or apricots comes through on the palate, where the ripeness of the fruits is evident, and supporting acidity is adequate. There’s a lovely finish of peaches and cream, but just a touch of phenolics coming through the back palate, but this is subdued by the bursting ripeness of the fruits. With time in the glass, the phenolics disappear to leave a lingering impression of peaches and cream on the palate, in the opulent style of the vintage. This has reached a lovely stage of maturity and now may well be at its peak, but it should hold and develop well for a few years yet. 91 Drink-2015.

An Experiment with Corks and Screwcaps

It’s years since I did a scientific experiment but there is one I would like to see done with corks and screwcaps. It’s quite amazing that even with a more than a decade’s experience of bottling wines under screwcaps, the long term effects of the type of closure remain controversial. One issue that I think should be finally resolved is just what effect exposure to oxygen has on long term maturation.

When the same wine is bottled both under cork and under screwcap, it’s evident within a few months that they develop differently. Most of the comparative tastings that I have done have been with white wines, where the usual difference is that wine under screwcap retains brighter fruits with more evident freshness. Preferences are usually split at such tastings between the bottlings: some people prefer the fresh, young style of screwcaps, while others find more complexity in the greater development of the wine under cork.

When I was out in New Zealand and Australia earlier this year, I had several opportunities to compare older red wines that had been bottled under both types of closure. The results were completely consistent.  The wine under screwcap always seemed younger – in a blind tasting you might have said by a couple of years – with more primary fruits, whereas the wine under cork showed some development towards more savory, sometimes even tertiary, aromas and flavors. All of these wines were Pinot Noir (mostly from the first few years of this millennium) but I assume the results would be generally true for all red wines. (The tastings are described in more detail in my recent book, In Search of Pinot Noir). This may not be a completely fair comparison, because the reason for the switch to screwcaps was often the terrible condition of the corks available down under. In fact, when there was the opportunity to taste multiple bottles under cork, they often tasted as different from one another as they did from screwcap, an immediate validation of the decision to switch to screwcaps.

So wines under screwcap clearly develop more slowly: the question in my mind is whether they develop in the same way at a slower pace or whether the overall pattern of  development is different, reflecting a different relative timing of the loss of primary fruits and the appearance of tertiary flavors. Among the wines I tasted, when the wines under cork were in perfect condition, I generally preferred them: but that may be because my taste generally runs to older wines. I would be really interested to repeat the comparison in a few years when the screwcap wines have developed further to see which I prefer then.

Anyway, back to the experiment. The difference between screwcaps and corks is the rate with which oxygen gets into the bottle. It can be close to zero for screwcaps: in fact, there have been problems involving reduction for wines bottled under screwcap, just as damaging in their way as problems with oxidation for wines with faulty corks. Sulfur levels need to be reduced when bottling under screwcap and it may take a while to establish the most appropriate levels for wines intended for any aging. The very best corks (defined operationally as the tightest) have very low oxygenation levels close to those of screwcaps. But the unanswered question is whether you do actually need some level of oxygen exposure; for corks this comes from the supposed “breathing” of the cork; for screwcaps it could come in the future from liners with defined rates for passage of oxygen.

So the experiment I want to do is to determine definitively whether the difference between corks and screwcaps is solely due to oxygen exposure. It is very simple in principle. Bottle a (red) wine under both cork and screwcap. Take bottles with each type of closure and keep one set in normal cellar conditions (cool, dark, humid). Put the other set under identical conditions but in an atmosphere of nitrogen. Then see whether the wines with cork and screwcap closures develop in exactly the same way under nitrogen (which is what you would expect if oxygen is the sole relevant factor). And of course see what differences emerge with and between the wines in the normal cellar. All that’s required is a cellar filled with nitrogen (and I suppose a means of retrieving bottles for periodic testing). Then finally we would know the answer instead of speculating and arguing about it.

Minerality and Oxidation in Puligny Montrachet

I was caused to think about minerality and its causes once again by the conjunction of two events: I was impressed by the classic minerality of an old Burgundy; and I saw an interesting explanation of the phenomenon in pages from Filip Verheyden’s forthcoming book, WINE.

What is minerality anyway? A bit like pornography, you know it when you see it, but it is hard to describe where to draw the line. Personally I view it as a sort of flinty, smoky, precision, sometimes associated with a clear touch of gunflint, always with good acidity. It’s a classic feature of traditional Chablis and some other white Burgundies; perhaps it is clearer in Chardonnay than other white varieties because it stands out against the full body and opulence.

The wine that prompted me to think again about the issue was Domaine Leflaive’s premier cru from Puligny Montrachet, Les Clavoillons, when I just drank my last bottle of the 1996 vintage. It showed Leflaive’s hallmark style of a steely backbone, a whiff of gunflint (there’s that minerality), and a great sense of precision to the fruits on the palate. While there are some other Puligny’s in this style, Leflaive for me is its epitome. While the wine has all the richness you expect from a Puligny premier cru, it conveys to my mind a definite sense of minerality. I have drunk my way through a case of it, starting a couple of years after the vintage, and it has matured steadily from an initial sense of opulence to showing more clearly its steely structure as the baby fat of the young fruits slowly resolved. For me it’s shown a full blown mineral style roughly since 2004.

Surprisingly little is known about the causes of minerality. The one thing we can be sure of is that it does not come from taking up minerals from the soil. Minerals are present in trace amounts in grapes, and therefore in wine, of course, but far below the threshold at which they could influence taste: in fact, if minerals accumulated to the point at which you could sense them directly, it would probably be illegal to sell the wine. The only compound that’s ever been associated with minerality is a thiol (sulfur-containing compound), benzenemethanethiol, which might be a component of smokiness. This leads to the thought that minerality might basically be a consequence of the presence of reduced sulfur compounds in wine. But why should this be a feature of wines from specific places?

In his new book, an introduction to wine that succeeds in presenting major issues without pandering to simplification or the purple prose so beloved of some wine writers, and which is beautifully illustrated (and I recommend the book for mavens as well as novices for its prose and insights), Filip suggests that minerality develops in wines coming from grapes that are grown on poor, stony soil. The critical feature is not so much the presence of the stones as the fact that stony soil is poor in nutrients. The lack of nitrogen forces the yeast to utilize sulfur-containing amino acids as an energy source during fermentation, and in so doing, they generate volatile thiols that give the wine its impression of minerality.

This idea gives a practical explanation for a suspicion I’ve had for years about the connection between thiols and minerality, but I still find several aspects confusing about the connection. If minerality is related to the presence of thiols, it should be less evident in wines that have had more oxidative treatment, because oxygen destroys thiols. You might think this would mean that Chablis matured in stainless steel would be more prone to minerality than Chablis matured in oak (because there is more oxidative exposure in oak barrels), but I’ve never quite been able to convince myself that there’s a correlation. And if the connection is true, shouldn’t minerality decline as a wine gets older and has more exposure to oxygen; but the impression of minerality in my Clavoillons definitely increased after the first few years.

And that brings me to the problem that plagues white Burgundy today: premature oxidation. For more than the past decade, white Burgundy has erratically taken a sudden dive into oxidation. Premier or grand crus that used to last ten or fifteen years – indeed that might not even peak until after a decade – suddenly begin to decline after four or five years, showing notes of madeirization. No one knows the cause: some suggestions have been quite hilarious, such as changes in mowing between the rows, others have a ring of plausibility, such as increased battonage (stirring the lees when the wine is in the barrel, which tends to increase oxidative exposure), use of lower sulfur levels at bottling (sulfur protects against oxidation), and so on. The most obvious explanation lies with the corks: Philippe Drouhin told me that it is typical to find a case in which some bottles may be oxidized while others are perfect. “What could be the difference between them, except the cork,” he asks. (I wondered for a while whether the problem reflected changes made when corks stops being washed with chlorine, but if the solution was that simple, it would have been found by now.) The puzzle for me is why premature oxidation should affect white Burgundy so widely. Whether it’s practices in viticulture or vinification, or a deficiency in the corks, why should it seemingly affect all producers; they don’t all have identical practices or the same suppliers of corks.

So that brings me back to minerality. Reduction and oxidation are yin and yang. If minerality is indeed due to thiols, it requires (relatively) reduced conditions; having more reduction, should mineral wines be less prone to premature oxidation? Actually, it is my general impression that white Burgundy in lusher styles is more prone to premox (as it is abbreviated in the trade), but I can’t really support that assertion systematically. Could a difference along these lines explain why Chablis seems to suffer from it less than the Côte d’Or? On the other hand, the only time I have had a prematurely oxidized Chablis, it was from a producer famous for his use of stainless steel rather than oak. Every time I think I’ve found a correlation that might reflect a basic cause, I’m confounded by a counter example. It’s very confusing. In the meantime, I’m forced to drink my white Burgundies up to a decade earlier than I used to, which is very annoying.

The most amazing thing of all is that in spite of great advances in placing viticulture and vinification on a more scientific basis, we still don’t really understand in detail the effects of oxygen. That it has a dramatic effect is clear: anyone who has tasted the same wine bottled under both corks and screwcaps knows that after even a few months, you have two different wines. This has to be due to differences in oxygen exposure. There isn’t any agreement on whether oxygen is needed for the aging of red wines (by breathing through the cork), and the pros and cons of corks and screwcaps continue to be debated partly because of this lack of understanding. But that’s a topic for another day.

Tasting note

Domaine Leflaive, Puligny Montrachet Les Clavoillons, 1996

I hate to say it, but they just don’t make Burgundy like this any more. The nose is pure gun smoke and flint, very Puligny, very Leflaive. Complex palate mingles peaches and cream with citrus, the latter showing especially on a long textured finish, with a lovely balance. The palate has broadened out with age and has reached the heights of elegance and is sheer perfection after fifteen years. A grand cru might have a little more weight, but it could not have a better balance and flavor spectrum.