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Warning: This email is very long, but if you like French wines, it is well worth reading.

This past week brought me to Paris for my yearly pilgrimage. It is a trip sparked by the passion of Dr. Bipin Desai for the best that the food and wine world has to offer, and there is no doubt that Paris is as good a place as any for this pursuit. Bipin organizes a week-long trip out to Paris every September, and it is well worth the effort of forgetting that it is actually September, that summer is officially over, and remembering that life is something meant to be sipped slowly and savored. Of course, between lunch and dinner, lunch and dinner, lunch and dinner, and that additional pursuit of packing on about ten pounds (or so it felt), I found time to work every second I could in communicating back to home base and specifically preparing to make our October auction while also making sure things were sailing smoothly over in the shop.

The trip also afforded me the opportunity to say hello to a few friends and clients in the area, and the trip started off innocently enough with a casual dinner Sunday evening in the home of S. and his lovely wife Cecile. We started off with a 1996 Dom Perignon, and we were quickly marveling at not only the quality of the 1996, but also about how they make close to one million bottles of it when a vintage is declared, and how that has to translate into about $50-75 million for the company each vintage. Not bad. The 1996 DP was a good way to start the trip and reminded me that if I had to stock up on one vintage of Champagne for the long haul, it would be 1996. The DP was fresh, racy and full of minerals with lots of zip and zest and a stone-faced personality. The wet rock and youthful mineral flavors were delicious, and the acidity left no doubt that this wine would shine for a long, long time. There was still a delicacy to it, and while it was not rich up front or in its fruit qualities yet, the finish left no doubt that this is an all-time classic for DP (96+). We had two wines with dinner, the first being a 1978 Domaine de Chevalier Rouge. 1978 is one of those forgotten vintages, but with wines like Haut Brion, La Mission Haut Brion, Margaux and Latour amongst others, it is still a vintage worth keeping an eye on. It was probably best in the Graves overall, and this Domaine de Chevalier backed up that argument. It had a great nose full of nutty, plummy cassis fruit, accompanied by chocolate and vigorous alcohol, supplemented by a firm backdrop of earth and cedar. ‘Still young,’ S. observed as he reminisced over when he first had this wine and how he is always seeking it. There was a lot of acidity and alcohol on the palate, zesty and fresh without being overbearing. I really liked the wine, the vigor of the earth, nut and tobacco flavors, its chocolate and nut kisses, and the chalky, spiny finish (93). S. had a little fun with me with the second wine, servingit blind. After swinging and missing a couple times, he mercifully revealed that it was a 2000 C. Dugat Gevrey Chambertin ‘Premier Cru.’ I will say that the wine did give me an initial Rhone-like impression with its extraction. ‘Very extracted’ were the first things I said when the wine’s identity was revealed. The wine had cigar and chocolate in the nose with some sour cherry, earth and almost sea air. The nose was musky, tangy and intense, and the palate was rich, fleshy, tangy and vigorous. There was excellent extraction, pushing the limits of extraction for a red Burgundy yet somehow not over the top. There were lots of vitamin flavors that developed, and this is one of the best 2000s that I have had in recent memory, stalky and jammy with nice stem and spice flavors on the finish. The acidity was excellent, and I thought to myself how perplexing a producer Dugat is, sometimes exhilarating as in this bottle of premier cru, but also disappointing in others, like his 2002 Griottes that I had earlier in the year. I think his 2000s look like a buy, however (92+).

The next day saw a doubleheader at Taillevent, one of Paris’ longstanding culinary institutions. This was no ordinary day, for Bipin had assembled about 40 vintages of Chateau Montrose, all sourced directly from the chateau, whose owners and winemaker were also in attendance. The vertical was so vast that it was split into day and evening sessions. Not only were the owners and winemaker there, but almost every significant European wine writer/critic was in attendance as well. Gerald Asher, Michel Bettane, Michael Broadbent, Clive Coates, David Peppercorn, Jancis Robinson, Steven Spurrier, James Suckling and Serena Sutcliffe were all there, amongst others. I was quite honored to be one of the media’s three ‘American representatives,’ as Bipin told me. James Suckling and Tara Weingarten were the others, and I gladly accepted the challenge of helping represent the USA amongst this venerable group.

Paris is a city of firsts for many, whether it is one’s first culinary epiphany or the birth of a first love; for me, it was my first 2003 Bordeaux, the 2003 Montrose, of course, reputedly one of the wines of the vintage. Clive, to whom I was sitting next, had previously told me that 2003 was a good Bordeaux vintage if you liked California Cabernet, so I was quite curious to experience it firsthand. The 2003 Montrose had a very ripe and rich nose with remarkable sweetness yet noticeable terroir; it was very complex with its nut, mineral and earth components with some piercing (more like pinching) alcohol and acidity aromas underneath its massive fruit. Chocolate, coconut and good wood rounded out its exotic and meaty nose. Secondary aromas of freshly baked bread developed later on. The palate was rich and oily with lots of nut, chocolate, plum and oil flavors. The finish was a touch dry, the acidity solid, and the wine was overall rich and sexy, always a good combination in my book. Clive muttered how everyone should drink it now while we could because it won’t get any better, and that there was ‘too much Chateauneuf du Pape here,’ referring to its overripe quality, adding that all 2003 Burgundies taste like they were ‘made by Helen Turley.’ Clearly, 2003 was a hot year everywhere in France. Steven Spurrier was quick to defend the 2003 when the topic arose. The only negative thing I can say about the 2003 is that after three hours in the glass, while the 2000 was still going strong, the 2003 seemed to be losing its focus, although I did only have a half of a swallow left by that time, so perhaps that was a factor. How wines expand and hold over time in the glass is always a sign of greatness in a young wine. Despite sitting next to Clive and the enormous influence he was trying to wield, I still found the wine outstanding (95). The 2002, ‘an ignored vintage’ according to Clive, had a more classic nose with more prominent cedar to go with the earth and terroir of St. Estephe. It did have a pinch of exotic cinnamon and a smoky edge; the nose gave me a log cabin impression, an impression not intended to be negative or imply an overuse of oak. The fruit came out with time, but the palate was clearly lighter than the 2003 pleasant, yet lighter and not nearly as definitive with its structural components. There were pleasant flavors of pencil shavings on the finish (89). The 2000 seemed to have tightened up, certainly having much more structure and much less baby fat than the 2003 at this point. There were great aromas of smoke, cedar and minerals; the wine had breed and was elevated and stylish, though definitely in reserve. The nose had impressive length; it was deep, dusty and a veritable spice box of dried herbs. Frank wondered if it was ‘a little green,’ but I found that to be a quality of the 1996 more so and not here really. Michel Bettane found significant bottle variation between the two bottles of 2000 that were served. Some fireplace action emerged with the wood, ash and brick, and some sweetness slowly slinked out. The acidity kept gaining in the glass, and as previously mentioned, three hours later the wine was still going strong. The structure was indubitably outstanding; there was great balance to its body and flavors between the front and back ends, but it did not quite have the weight I expected, perhaps a stage. The wine was still outstanding, don’t get me wrong. Clive called it ‘glorious,’ though ‘a bit adolescent,’ and that it had ‘gone into its shell, which you’d expect. Drink after 2015.’ While the 2003 was more enjoyable right now, the 2000 reeked of more potential (95+). The 1996 had the first sign of green, benevolent in a bean and forest way, and thick cassis underneath it in a rich and chunky way with a waxy edge. Candle wax, mint, caraway and alcohol rounded out the nose. The palate was gritty and spicy, hearty, long and back-sided; i.e., more finish than fruit. There was lots of lingering acidity. That pinch of green was also on the palate more in its bean form; I did like its style, but I could see some not liking it, such as Clive, who called it the ‘least exciting’ of the flight and not having the ‘same dimensions’ (91). The 1990 has always been a bit of a controversial wine in my mind, never living up to my expectations. I suppose I need to curl up with a bottle for five hours, as Mr. Squires insists, one of these days; my one Achilles’ heel as a wine writer is that I tend to experience many wines at once and smaller samples. I enjoy the comparison and contrast of that format most; however, I do recognize that my impressions may be more snapshots than full length videos, but I doubt that I am alone in that regard when it comes to those in the business of publishing their notes. Back to the 1990 the nose had that greenish hue with the bean but also a sweet pinch of cinnamon, and there were much more pronounced aromas of barnyard and animal, which has always been one of my issues with this wine. There were a lot of horses racing around my glass, thoroughbreds perhaps, but horses nonetheless. A touch of morning mouth did not help, and I am talking about the wine and not me. The nose needed a lot of coaxing to shed its animal skin and don a mineral one. Once that skin was shed, I slowly started to become more infatuated with the wine and found more mocha, coffee and piercing minerals within. The horsy quality faded back in and out; it was a wine that almost needed to be swirled a few minutes before each sip and evaluation. The richness of fruit was clearly superior though, but its animal components kept distracting me. The plump, rich and fat fruit combined with its elegant and long acidity won me over a bit, but I still have my doubts about this ‘modern-day legend’ (95). The 1989 had a fabulous nose with a gorgeous center point with minerals and alcohol balanced around it. The nose was searing yet not too hot; ‘just right,’ as Goldilocks might say. There was a great balance of cedar and nut; the fruit was there but lurking, and Frank picked up on some ‘iodine.’ It was my style of nose rich, hearty and spiny with a nut oil/syrup thing happening. The palate was rich, fleshy and leathery; perhaps the wine does not have as much long-term potential as the 1990 or others, but it was my favorite at this point in time of the first flight. Right there and right then, it was great. Its soy-like ripe fruit and ripe tannins were lip-smacking good (96). The room was divided about 50/50 over the 1989 versus 1990 debate. While Clive found the 1989 ‘hedonistic’ and the 1990 ‘classic,’ Michel found it the exact opposite. So much for a consensus amongst experts! Clive asked Michel whether he liked 2003 or 2004 more, to which Michel replied, ‘2005.’ That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, start your engines as it looks like 2005 could be a great vintage in Bordeaux. This first flight was decanted roughly two hours before being served; for the rest of the wines served, it was about thirty minutes.

We traveled back in time exactly a quarter-century for the next flight, beginning with the 1964. The nose was pungent, and we were ‘starting to get in that area I like,’ Frank coyly observed. ‘You mean that yummy, tasty, mature area?’ I smiled back. Let me say once again and for the record that Bordeaux does not truly get great for at least thirty years, and I am sorry for anyone that thinks otherwise. The nose of the 1964 was quite pungent, with a lot of alcohol to go with its cedar, brick, cinnamon, earth and leather aromas. The nose was definitely alive and kicking, and some forest emerged as the nose started to flirt with some baked nuts. The palate was dry and cedary, pleasant and lightly spicy, but lacking weight in the middle. The wine was still bordering on very good and had some exotic and very faint banana flavors, but the palate was really all about the cedar, that and a drop of chocolate. Overall, the wine was on the dry and austere side but still nice (89). The 1961 had a very vegetal nose at first with lots of that 1990 horse, animal and barnyard action. Michel was quick to point out that 1961 may be a ‘legendary vintage, but bottles are not always legendary.’ I started to work the wine in my glass a bit, and the earth of St. Estephe emerged, but the wine had a bit of a mildewy edge that was bothersome, and it was not cork or bottle taint. The wine was much better on the palate, where it was rich, smooth, satiny and round. Almost fully mature, there was still vigor and life here, but it was not the impression that most ’61s give me on a regular basis. There were solid leather flavors, and the wine was certainly very good, but not great. I wondered about the bottle being affected somehow (91?). David Peppercorn reminisced about how in 1961, a lot of people were short on money, so many chateaux were selling on futures in July before the vintage was even harvested. He added that there is an old saying in Bordeaux, that ‘if a vintage is small, it will be even smaller.’ The 1959 saw some bottle variation, but two of the bottles were glorious. A third was opened to replace one of the bottles; in general, there were two bottles of each wine served and occasionally a third opened when one came into question. There was significantly more power and stuffing than the ’61 and excellent vigor and spice in the nose. There was some black cherry fruit underneath it all. The mouthfeel was rich with excellent structure as well, and strawberries started spilling out of the glass to the point of ‘wow.’ The nose became more chocolaty and figgy. Classic, muscular, balanced, rich, hearty and spicy, the 1959 Montrose was an outstanding wine (96). The 1955 was no slouch, quickly picking up where the 1959 left off. The nose was seductive with great cedar, nut and caramel aromas, and touches of animal, brick and cinnamon. The nose was fabulous and almost stole the show from the 1959. I went on my ’55 tangent, about how this was probably one of the most overlooked, overall, great vintages of the century. Frank chipped in how it was Jean-Michel Cazes’ favorite vintage as well. Secondary layers of spice, earth and sawdust of cedar rounded out its complex nose. The palate was great; its earthy flavors fit right in with its overall personality, and caramel ones supplemented the earth wonderfully. It was a close call with the 1959, which ultimately had more power and hence a higher score (95). The 1953 had a nutty, figgy nose with some pastry and bakery aromas relating to molasses, gingerbread and confectioners’ sugar. The wine was maderized, more mature than the other wines in its peer group; all three bottles were off in the same way. It was very ripe, bordering on stewed. There were lots of nutty, vanilla flavors, easy and simple ones, with some old book flavors as well. A little woodsy on the palate, these bottles of 1953 were definitely past their prime but still had some enjoyable qualities (87A). The 1952 was the year Michel Bettane was born, and he joked how the wine was ‘a bit younger than me today.’ At first, the nose was quite bizarre and total chalk city; it was almost as if we were smelling more glass than wine. The nose was extremely spiny in a floor cleaner way, but that is 1952, someone said, all finish. Nut and carob emerged on the nose and on the palate, and the palate was certainly all about ’52 a hard, whips and chains nature with robust tannins and finish. I found the wine quite tasty with lots of backside flavors of rust, brick, earth, leather, dust and cedar. It held quite well and had excellent stuffing. Bipin insisted on the 1952 being included after having an incredible magnum and said that it was one of the wines of the vintage. Someone remarked how ’52s were better palate wines than nose ones, and Leoville Barton and Calon Segur also came up as sleepers, along with Mouton. The wine was excellent, bordering on outstanding but not quite (94).

The last flight was one so rare that it will most likely never be recreated. We started with the 1918. Frank was admiring its ‘sweet’ nose, although I found it to be more buttery and oaky. In fact, it was the first nose where the oak bothered me a bit old oak, of course. It was brought to our attention that most of the wines, at least in this flight, except the 1916 which had original corks, were reconditioned at the chateau in 1993. HOWEVER, at Chateau Montrose, all wines are reconditioned with the same vintage (BRAVO). One of greatest tragedies of the 20th century in Bordeaux are the amount of wines that were reconditioned, or topped off, with younger wines, especially when a majority of them did not even have to be in the first place. Basically, we are talking winocide, perhaps more like sedation, as reconditioned wines that are topped off never reach the heights of original or properly reconditioned bottles. Without naming names, suffice it to say that there were some significant chateaux in Bordeaux that topped off many wines, wines with good fills even, unnecessarily and incorrectly. But I digress the 1918 came around a bit with some aeration, although Francois Audouze and Michel both said that wines of this age are meant to sit in the glass and not be swirled. Well, mine benefited from some swirling, and some carob, old wood and book, a touch of musk and caramel all emerged. The wine had nice texture and body, flesh and balance, still meat on its bones, but its flavors were definitely old. Its ‘oldness’ was not necessarily a negative, but not necessarily a positive either. Frank said ‘it still has life, but it might need a eulogy soon.’ The structure held, and I had to respect the wine, but its old flavors were not my cup of tea. Serena Sutcliffe waxed on about the wine’s virtues, however, calling it ‘scented’ and ‘so elegant.’ She filled us in on a bit of history, reminding us that at the time it was regarded as a big vintage that needed time, and that in the past,vintages were not judged as they are now (90). The 1916 was next, and we were reminded about how World War I was taking place at the time this wine was made. Its nose was maderized just a touch yet still fresh. There was definite Madeira in the nose, along with worcestershire, tomato and syrup. The palate was much fresher than the nose had me expecting with flavors of caramel, nut, earth and slate. Its freshness on the palate was all the more remarkable considering this was the one wine that was not reconditioned. Its finish and texture were excellent, and Serena agreed how despite the fact that the nose was a touch maderized, the palate was quite good (93). The 1911, despite looking a bit like primordial soup in the glass, was outstanding. I guess I got the bottom of the bottle, as Frank’s glass was clear, so I tried his first. It was classic with lots of minerals, brick and cedar and had outstanding flavors to match. My glass, with more of the sediment in it, had an edge of burnt popcorn, still buttered, that was not offensive but just different than the other glass. I liked the wine’s pungent quality; it was toasty and tasty, slaty, long and kinky, and ultimately outstanding for me, despite Serena’s opinion that it was past its prime. I found it to be incredibly exotic. With time in the glass, it held well and separated itself from the 1906, which was next (95). The 1906 had a classic, chalky nose with some ‘spearmint,’ as Frank noticed. There was good vigor, although that vigor was on the slaty and minerally side. The 1906 also had the popcorn of the 1911 and great verve and backbone in the nose at first. The palate was softer with nice balance and nutty and dusty flavors. I also noticed citrus for the first time. Its balance and roundness were excellent, and Frank personally gave it bonus points for its age (93). The 1898 caused Frank to have a silent orgasm, I think. The nose was amazing; there was perfect balance of nut, chocolate, cedar, spearmint and earth. It was warm, inviting and phenomenal. The palate was pure and beautiful with lots of chocolate, sweet baby’s bottom, nut and this Krispy Kreme glaze, again in a chocolate way. The wine had a hedonistic, dessert-like quality to it, but it was far from dessert wine. Rich, velvety and long, this wine was fantastic, incredibly exotic and complex. It had a nose unlike any other, and even the ‘lesser’ bottle I liked. Thankfully, I had the better one. Along with the 1911, the 1898 won the award for ‘most exotic’ (96). The show was not over yet, though. The 1890 also had an exotic nose that was also briny. It was a spine, slate, popcorn, chalk and mineral quintafecta. There was sweet fruit underneath on the plum side. There was lots of earth, sporty sweat and vim to the wine, and the palate was round, rich, lush and balanced, long in a mature way, subtly and not overtly. The 1890 shared the spearmint of the 1906 and 1898, and it also had a Graves-like gravelly character to accompany its tenderness (93). Lastly and not leastly was the 1888, which had a (surprise) deep, complex nose. Again, I got the bottom of the bottle, being the youngest in attendance, I suppose, or just some luck of the draw. The nose had meat, chocolate, earth, leather, and snappy fresh green vegetables such as green pepper and cucumber. Chocolate and molasses rounded out the nose, and the excellent palate was gravelly with lots of coffee and mineral flavors, a touch of confectioners, and some gateau-like action. For 117 years old, it was pretty damn good. Torn between 94 and 95 points, I split it down the middle (94+). Serena shared with us that the 1888 was the last vintage made by the Dalfus family; ‘papa’ died and had left too many children behind to work it out, so they sold to the same family that owns it today, the Charmolues.

Bipin brought it all into perspective, as always, when he said that Montrose ‘fits the definition of a truly great wine. It needs time, but if you have patience, it develops into a complex, balanced wine. It has terroir and year after year is consistently great.’ Francois made one last comment about food and its influence on wine, strongly convinced that some wines, like the 1961 and 2003, benefited by having food with them while others, like the 1959, stood out on their own.

Evening session, post-nap

Hardly bright-eyed yet obviously bushy-tailed, I made my way back to Taillevent for the evening session after a deep, deep nap. A photographer was there taking lots of pictures, even after we sat down, prompting Ed to joke that ‘this guy must have been chasing Princess Di.’ I went along and replied, ‘the last time I had so many pictures taken of me was when I did that spread for Playgirl.’ It was a great issue, I might add.

We quickly got down to business with the 1986, which Clive had earlier mentioned as being a poorer vintage for Montrose, along with 1983, so it was an interesting way to start the evening. The 1986 had a pleasant nose, delicate by ’86 standards, but still long in the nose with its sultry and perfumed aromas of cassis, nut and light cedar. More nuttiness came out, and the wine became quite pleasantly rich without and heaviness of the tannins or alcohol invading. Cedar came out more and more with coaxing. The palate was nutty with additional flavors of black olives and had a dry, cedary finish, and good acidity. The fruit on the palate was dry, and it was a back-sided wine, typical of 1986, and Steven called it ‘slaty.’ James Suckling was very happy, reminiscing about 1986 being one of his first vintages in Bordeaux, calling the wine ‘typical 1986’ with its ‘tannins, clean fruit, mineral edge’ and predicted a ‘long life ahead.’ This wine had me torn between 92 and 93 points, back and forth on whether it was excellent or just very good, and due to its tannins and resulting potential, and after seeing how well it lasted in the glass, I decided it was excellent after all, despite the bah humbugs of Uncle Clive (93). The 1985 had a gorgeous nose: forward, fragrant and seductive. There was plump cassis, plum, chocolate, nut, caramel, cedar, minerals, pencil, bread and earth all dancing in unison in its nose. Steve called it ‘rich, especially compared to 1986,’ and the palate was just delicious with its round and rich flavors, with more of the earth and mineral shades exerting themselves. The saltiness of St. Estephe seemed to be taking charge, and there were more tannins and acidity than I expected on the palate; it was still less dry and tannic than the 1986 but just as good if not slightly better at this stage. Bipin, right on cue, went into his 1985 vs. 1986 spiel, which is how 1985 is superior to 1986 and that the two vintages are similar to 1953 vs. 1952. For this wine and this moment, the case could be made, although I thought the 1985 lost its focus more over time in the glass, but it was certainly the most enjoyable of the first flight at the moment. James called it ‘softer, rounder and more ready, but I like the more austere quality of 1986’ (93). I could very well be underrating the 1985, and if it didn’t lose a little focus in the glass, I would have rated it a point higher. The 1982 had a very spiny nose in a pungent and alcoholic way. Aromas of anise and indoor cleaner dominated with some plum, fig and raisin underneath. There was a lot of cedar in the nose as well. The palate was long, sturdy and spiny, possessing lots of vigor, although it was definitely lopsided towards its dusty back end. The wine started to get a little sappier in the glass and come out of its shell, and flavors of green olives emerged. I asked Steve about his preference between the 1986 and 1982, a question that will constantly be repeated for years to come, and he said that he loved the 1986 and found it typical, but that one had to know with whom one was drinking to have that wine, that it was a claret lover’s wine, and that the 1982 was ‘more exotic and universal.’ James found the 1982 ‘ever changing’ and admired its ‘strength and clarity,’ adding he could drink it ‘all night long.’ For me, it was a statistical dead heat, although the finish of the 1982 showed more potential, I will admit (93+). The 1975 was a pleasant surprise with its pungent nose and that anise and indoor cleaner combo again. It was slaty with lots of minerals and what I call indoor aromas, but it was mild beyond that and overall. You really had to inhale deeply to get something out of it, so it wouldn’t be a wine to bring over to Bill Clinton’s house for dinner. The pleasant surprise really occurred on the palate, which was quite good. Spicy and rusty, the 1975 was masochistically tasty with its baby got backside of cedar and minerals and taste (flash) of chocolate. The ’86, ’82and ’75 seemed very related, and I loved the ’75’s vigor and iron-fisted personality on the palate. The wine could be a long-term sleeper but is by no means a fruit bomb, not even in any wine lover’s deepest, darkest fantasy. James noted how ‘the seventies were a tough time, but this showed better than I expected. I enjoyed it’ (92). The 1970 has long reputed to be a great Montrose. Ed was liking it while Bipin found it ‘swampy.’ I was somewhere in the middle. Its aromas of chocolate, cigar, nut, olive and stewed prune were appealing, but it was a bit swampy, which is never a good thing. The palate was back-sided, as were all the wines in this flight (which was well assembled), and had cedar and slate on its long finish and solid t ‘n a. Its upfront flavors were a bit woodsy for me, and the 1970 was my least favorite of this flight. In seemed riper in the nose in that figgy, ‘I’m ready’ way, and while its structure was solid as a rock, its flavors were disappointing and a bit too gamy and woodsy for me (88).

We jumped back in time to the 1949, which had a musty nose and traces of old oak that once might have been cedar. There was some oily and chunky cassis fruit that was a bit masked by the previously mentioned qualities. The palate was pleasant with flavors of old wood, carob and leather. The wine was nice but unexciting, mature and possessing a shred of tannins (90). The 1948 had an exciting nose, especially since it was a 1948, a vintage of which I had recently tasted a disappointing Haut Brion. It was one of those things that make you go ‘mmmmm.’ There were great cedar, nut and caramel aromas balanced by smoky, plummy and vanilla ice creamy fruit. The palate was mature yet sturdy, long with nice grip. Its carob and cedar flavors were tasty in that mature way, and there were some teabag and leather flavors as well, but its overall personality was chalky. Wolfgang loved the wine’s opulence, and Josh said, ‘this is the real story (of the flight) given it is an off vintage.’ Ed did not feel ’48 was that ‘off’ a vintage. The palate was a step behind the nose, for sure, but the nose stayed fabulous, with what poker fans would call great ‘nuts’ (93). The 1947 was exotically rich, sweet and oily, possessing that elusive ‘yum’ quality. There were divine aromas of nutty chocolate and caramel, and the wine was brimming with red fruits, rose oil, raisinets, vanilla and almost coconut. Its nose was very exotic and seductive. The palate was rich and full of vigor and length, with a wave of red blending into auburn fruits followed by minerals, cedar and slate. It was chocolaty and flat out great. The nose stayed meaty and syrupy, the palate rich and thick (96). The 1937 was a bit off-putting in a corky way, definitely musty with a lot of band-aids, minerals and not much else. It was tough to find any fruit in the nose, and while the palate was better, it was still on the slaty side with those band-aids. There was nice balance, but the wine wasaustere nonetheless. Someone called it ‘dirty because it always was.’ That must be that ‘once a, always a’ concept (86). The 1934 showed more promise, with some sourdough to its fruit along with traces of caramel, dust, tang and old wood. Its very pleasant nose also had traces of cinnamon and brick. The palate was rich with nice, mature flavors and a hearty finish. The ’47 and ’34 were both ‘volatile’ wines in regard to their acidity, but I liked them regardless. I guess I’m just a volatile kind of guy. The nose got more chocolaty and meaty, and the wine stayed tasty with poised grit and length. The mineral-laden earth flavors had chocolate shavings on them, and the 1934 gave the 1947 a run for its money. This is another sleeper from 1934, a vintage one rarely sees. I have also had excellent bottles of Latour and Petrus (95).

There were a whopping eight wines in the last flight, beginning with a 1945 that was purposely served out of order. The 1945 had a great, classic nose with a wintry spice and traces of cedar, minerals and smoke. There was a shred of caramel, mocha and vanilla as well. You could tell this was a massive, youthful wine at first smell. There was fabulous breed to it with cedar flavors, structure and strength to its length. Classic, beautiful and very Cabernet with its flavors of cedar, leather and pencil, the 1945 was an outstanding wine, one that I found on the dry side, but hardly starting to dry out as Serena questioned (96). The 1929 was another wine with a fabulous nose, this one with loads of cherry fruit and accompanying brick, smoke and vanilla. It was heady, rich and lush. There were some secondary aromas of tapenade, cedar and earth, but the fruit was primary. The palate was round, rich and lush with an incredible mouthfeel; for 75 years old, it was amazingly lush. Its bright bing cherry flavors were joined by vanilla, cedar and a cream soda edge. Soft, lush, easy and round, its vim held quite well (96). As good as the first two wines were in this flight (did someone plan this?), the 1928 left no doubt as to what vintage was wine of not only this session, but also the entire day. ‘Wow’ starts my note, ‘this nose is bordering on liquid crack.’ That is a presumption, I would like to add. I hope you get the idea. There was a divine chocolate, caramel and bakery character to the nose. So nutty, so thick, the 1928 also had a spine unlike any other wine on this day. The power of the ’28 was staggering, shattering every wine of both sessions. Young and intense, nutty and tasty, long and viscous, the 1928 was the most beautiful girl in the most beautiful dress winning an award for best something. It got another ‘wow’ from me and was certainly wine of the day (98). You know that the difference between 96 and 98 is a big deal, right? It’s all about exponentials, ladies and gentlemen, in case you forgot. Just when I thought the evening couldn’t get any better, it almost did. Almost. The 1926 had seductive aromatics too, more playful and floral than the ’28, more delicate yet still brimming with red fruits, vanilla bean, cloud smoke, caramel and rubber tire, adding up to an absolutely delicious nose. There were lots of caramel flavors, great structure and a long, rich finish. This was the first wine from 1926 where I saw its light. There was a caramelized sex appeal without being maderized, and great leather and cedar. Gerald Asher noted its ‘elegance and substance it threw me back in my chair.’ It exceeded the 1945 and 1929, and everything except the 1928 (97). The 1921 was ‘an exception for the Left Bank in 1921,’ Bipin told us, along with Mouton, meaning that it was a success. The wine was incredibly oaky in the nose, less so on the palate but still oaky, nonetheless. The palate was rich and long with lots of alcohol, but overall it was a bizarre wine. Coffee, caraway, caramel and almost port flavors were minor compared to the oak. There was indubitably great texture and structure, and while I had to respect it, the 1921 was not my style, at least this bottle (90+). We were back with the program with the 1920. There were more classic cedar, green bean and ashtray aromas, with the ashtray having a marijuana edge, an edge that started to morph into older oak. The nose had presence, and the palate was deliciously firm and chocolaty dusty, spicy, earthy, rusty and tasty. It wasn’t the same for everyone, as Gerald called it a ‘letdown,’ but I enjoyed its mineral, rust, mocha and wax flavors. The only issue I had with the ’20 was the fact it started to lean on the oaky side of things both aromatically and on the palate with a little time, but it was a lean and nothing more (94). Ed wondered aloud who was as good and consistent in the 1920s, to which Bipin replied, Latour and Calon Segur. I think they were both talking ‘Leftist,’ so to speak. The 1900 was also a bit oaky at first, though baking soda fresh. An exotic, banana flamb eacute; sundae quality mercifully took over the stage from the oak after we had some food, pigeon to be precise. Carob, forest floor and cream became its signature aromas, and the palate was still fresh, round and pleasant. Its flavors were on the citric side, old and pretty, and the 1900 was still walking and talking well yet was not one of the superior wines of the day, although Bipin got a lot more out of it than I (92). We came to the last wine of this historic wine experience, the 1893, and it delivered a grand finale. The nose was decadently rich, a bit horsy on the animal side but exquisite nonetheless and not overbearing. Additional, aged aromas of earth, dried beef, leather and spice complemented its rich, lush, tasty and round palate, which also had flavors of beef to go along with forest floor, old book and caramel. Beefy, rich and lush, all deserving a ‘so’ in front of them, the 1893 caused Gerald to note how we were ‘tasting sunshine that’s a century old. Extraordinary, seamless, affectionate ‘ (97).

Gerald had some of the most interesting and astute comments of the day when asked to speak about this flight, including ‘if you had to define these wines by one thing, it would be structure- the elegance and simplicity of line that goes through the wines, the acidity more than the tannins.’ He also reminded us that we weren’t tasting wines but rather bottles when it came to the older ones, and that judgments were never truly definitive as a result. He reminisced over the endless debates between back to back vintages such as ’28 vs. ’29 (‘same difference after all these years’), or ’52 vs. ’53 (his ‘first’ discussion of the sorts), or ’85 vs. ’86. He quickly warned that ‘analysis should be left for technicians,’ however, and that far too often we have a ‘tendency to taste a wine for what it isn’t rather than what it is, but we should always enjoy it for what it is.’ Some Angry Men jumped to mind! Wine should be ‘something to drink and have something to say, should reflect the vintage’ and be consistent with the style of the producer. He reiterated that all of these wines had a character specific to Montrose. A great wine should remind us of where, who and when, and the combination thereof proved to be unforgettable on this day.

Bipin, to whom we were all indebted for organizing such an event, summed the day up perfectly when he asked, ‘how many Chateaux could stack up to these if you had the same vintages?’ Not many, indeed. Here is to Chateau Montrose.

So that might be enough to make the trip worthwhile, you say? Technically, the official part of Bipin’s trip began Tuesday night at Carre des Feuillantes, but what was one to do Tuesday afternoon? We had to eat, right? Well, Bipin and some of his early bird disciples, myself included, gathered at Hiramatsu, a restaurant that takes its name after its
Asian chef, but it is not an Asian restaurant. It was a gourmet experience all the way and a personal favorite of Bipin’s, and the wines were something to write home about as well. Arriving a few minutes late after a morning meeting, I quickly intervened; there was a non-vintage Champagne that was just ordered, and I suggested we replace it with a 1979 Louis Roederer Vintage Champagne. After all, it was only 200 Euros or so on the list, so for the extra ten or so Euros a person it would end up being, it seemed like a no-brainer. The group quickly agreed. While looking over the rest of the wine list, I was thinking about how much great wine is tucked away in restaurants in Paris, or France for that matter. Sometimes, it seems like none of it ever left! 1993 Rousseau Chambertin was about half of its market value on the list, as were many others, although some wines were not cheap. Back to our regular programming – Louis Roederer is the producer that makes Cristal in case you forgot, and some of his regular vintage champagnes, particularly those of the pre-Cristal era, have been some of the greatest bubblies I have ever had 1928 and 1959 included. The 1979 was still very fresh. Bipin found it ‘too meaty and not my style,’ but it was oh so mine. The nose was rich and complex, honeyed and bready with some citrus and orange edges and a pinch of caramel to its honeyed sweetness. It was quite full-bodied and long with an extensive finish full of attack and graceful length. With lots of exquisite acidity and verve, it became more stunning with each sip. Flavors of soda, freshwater, geyser, citrus and bread were impeccably balanced on its oily palate with liqueur-like edges. This champagne was bordering on outstanding, right on the cusp of elite status, but I think I need to revisit it in ten years first before I give that up to it (94+). We skipped the whites for now and eased into a 2000 Roumier Bonnes Mares. The 2000s are a fashionable vintage to drink young, so I was quitecurious to try a wine from one of the best producers in all of Burgundy, although I couldn’t help but notice the 2002 on the list at about the same price. ‘The 2000 is more ready,’ explained Dr. Desai, which offered a glimpse into his mind and thought process. The nose had sexy, cherry fruit that was incredibly fragrant and forward. Besides loads of cherry, rosy and stemmy fruit, the 2000 had additional, complex aromas of pure earth, spice, forest, mint and chocolate. Round, smooth and satiny, its palate had a nice kick of acidity on the finish, but the nose was ahead of the palate by a bit at this stage. Its palate had a leathery backbone that was firm yet understated, but its fruit had this just-beginning-to-bud quality with some benevolent green and muted fruit flavors. The 2000 had a 95-point nose, but the palate still needed to grow. The backside had ‘oomph’ and hence promise, but the palate was a bit light texturally up front (92+). Three wines from Michel Gaunoux were next, the father of Francois. ‘He died in 1978, and the wines were never as good,’ said Chris, and after having the trio of wines I am about to describe, I can assure you that pre-1978 Gaunoux is something of which to get a hold. The 1947 M. Gaunoux Pommard ‘Grands Epenots’ had a Tasteduvin label, which means it was bottled, or bought specifically for that historic and still active group. Bipin quickly called it ‘terrific,’ citing 1947 as a ‘very hot vintage, but not great like 1949.’ The nose was absolutely fabulous; incredibly rich, fleshy, meaty and beefy. The alcohol underneath all that was penetrating like a needle drawing blood, precise and exacting. There was a touch of old book but overall the wine’s aromas were sweet and hedonistic. Flavors of beef, stems, molasses and a pinch of worcestershire made this wine quite tasty, and its volatile acidity (there I go again) gave it spine with some whips and chains to go with it. Chris called it ‘perfect the balance, the sweetness and the length.’ Licorice,cherry and honeyed cough drops were adjectives coming from the group. There were also old book flavors, lots of wood spices and decadent coffee and mocha flavors that developed, while Frank noticed its ‘toast and burnt sugar.’ This wine almost exceeded being outstanding, but it was Pommard, after all (96). There were two more Pommards, beginning with a 1926 M. Gaunoux Pommard ‘Rugiens,’ which was drier and earthier than the ’47, still with some red fruits but not nearly the sweetness of the 1947. The red fruits in its nose were beautiful nonetheless red currants, cranberry and raspberry to be exact, and the nose was wound in a pinchy, dusty way. More citric vigor was noticeable here. On the palate, there were flavors of old book, or ‘sauvage/wet leaf’ to which Chris likened it, that gently rolled around one’s tongue in a soft, smooth and mature way. The middle palate was softer but not absent, and there was nice leather on the finish (93). The 1927 M. Gaunoux Pommard ‘Rugiens’ had more ripeness and oil to its nose with pungent aromas of brown sugar, alcohol and fading rose. The palate was rich and sweet, again not as rich as the ’47, but still excellent with its dry, pinchy tannins and drier, waxier, book-ier flavors. Mushroom came out in the nose, which expanded quite well, and the palate fattened accordingly, more so than the 1926 (94). We ended the afternoon with a white, another one of my suggestions, the 1973 Trimbach Riesling ‘Clos Ste. Hune,’ another wine that was very underpriced. They also had the 1976, a better vintage Bipin assured me, but I had had the 1976 once before, so the new experience of the 1973 appealed to me. The Trimbach had a fabulous nose, one with which only a white Burgundy could compete (or visa-versa, I suppose). Peachy, petroly, penetrating fruit was patiently pacing precariously ok, sorry about the alliteration, but it was still an accurate description! There was a pinch of mint blending into its mineral and slate qualities, and bright, yellow, citrus jelly candy as well. The petrol was still in charge of this nose, though, make no mistake about it. The palate had excellent balance and length with a nice, long, grainy and sandy finish. There were flavors of lemon, wax, petrol and dried peaches and apricots, and someone noted the ‘purity of fruit,’ while the sommelier chipped in, admiring the fact that it was ‘straight.’ With medium vim and a straight-laced personality, this Clos Ste. Hune was a nice way to end the afternoon (93).

Dinner was at 8pm, so there was no time to dilly-dally about town. Carre des Feuillantes was the place, and it was nice to see Bernard Hervet of Bouchard again, who joined us on this night. This was officially the beginning of the week, although it felt like I was there for one week already! The NV Pol Roger Brut was delicious, a great non-vintage champagne with a lot of sweet fruit and flavor to go with its lovely delicacy and balance. The same cannot be said for all non-vintage bubblies (90). We sat down to a couple of Haut Brions, Laville Haut Brions, that is. The 1998 Laville Haut Brion was served a bit on the cold side, but beneath the icy mute on it were some classic LHB aromas of glue, straw, honey, dried yellow and white fruits, candle wax, honeycomb, nuts and orange peel soaked in white chocolate. The palate was rich and lightly toasty with flavors of citrus, honeydew and cantaloupe (‘melon that’s it!’ Elaine agreed), and none of the overoak or glue that sometimes plagues young, dry, white Bordeaux. With time in the glass, the wine became fresher and more vigorous once it warmed up, its superior minerality becoming more and more self-evident. Teona found it ‘like a good stinky cheese,’ probably picking up on what I call glue. There were lots of white floral edges in this tasty, pure, delicate and spicy (in a Graves way) white. The acidity got stronger and stronger, bordering on searing in the belly (94+). The 1989 Laville Haut Brion had a nose that caused Frank to comment, ‘there’s a nose that I like,’ referring to the more mature style of the 1989. An extra decade does a Laville well, I always say, and the 1989 had a fatter, wider nose with more nutty sex appeal. There were also wax, alcohol, honey, musk and caramel aromas. The palate was richer and meatier with more sweet caramel flavors and an earthier finish. Fleshier and oilier with loads of caramel, the 1989 stood out over its younger sibling (95+). Bipin told us he chose the 1998 since he had never had the wine before, adding that it was very hard to get upon release. Adding that there was a very low production made, Bipin found them both ‘spectacular.’ Having had some spectacular, very old LHBs, I can say that this is one wine that benefits from a lot of age, hence my ‘plus’ on each score. I always say that Bordeaux gets truly great after thirty years of age, and this is one white Bordeaux to which that saying applies. Next up was a flight of Chevalier Montrachets from Bouchard directly, all served out of magnum. The first was the recently released 2003 Bouchard Pere et Fils Chevalier Montrachet ‘La Cabotte.’ Bernard later explained to us that ‘La Cabotte’ is the plot of land between the upper part of Montrachet and the lower part of Chevalier, adding that they decided to bottle it under a separate designation than their regular Chevalier as they felt it was closer in style to a Montrachet. The 2003 had a clean and smoky nose with sweet butter and tropical Chardonnay fruit, so sweet I would have guessed Kistler if it was served to me blind. That must be that ‘Helen Turley’ factor in regard to the 2003s to which Clive had earlier referred. There was nice earth and wet rock there behind its sweet fruit, and the palate was very chewy and nutty with taffy-like flavors and an oily texture. Sweet, nutty, and buttery, the 2003 had a caramel center if you kept chewing away. Someone commented that the wine ‘won’t last that long.’ The acidity was not that prominent at this stage, and this tropical wine was a bit sweet for me but still respectable. (91). The 2002 Bouchard Pere et Fils Chevalier Montrachet ‘La Cabotte’ was a whole new ballgame. The 2002 was much more wound with divine minerals rippling through the nose. Smoky and lightly toasty, the wine had pineapply fruit slowly emerge with pinches of anise and rainwater. Elaine called out ‘apples’ clearly and correctly. It was my kind of nose, more about the earth than the fruit. The palate was flat out fantastic, long with great acidity and a spicy, spiny finish. The wine was rich and loaded with lots of yellow fruit bullets, dried yet somehow ripe. Streaky in a good and intense way, the 2002 stayed spectacular on the palate, and the acidity kept exerting itself like a boa constrictor trying to suffocate my nostrils. I saw the Montrachet here (96). The 1992 Bouchard Pere et Fils Chevalier Montrachet ‘La Cabotte’ was actually the first vintage that Bouchard ever bottled, all one barrel of it, and all in magnums, magnums that have never been sold or offered. One barrel means only 150 magnums were made. Now Bernard would be the first to admit that the Renaissance of Bouchard Pere et Fils did not begin until the mid-nineties, and this 1992 showed that to be an accurate statement. The 1992 had a dirty nose, and Frank saw what I was saying but still liked it. There was this rotten edge, some pungent alley action that dominated, and behind that were additional aromas of smoke on the water, dirty earth and stewed, overripe corn. The palate was better with some nice flesh, richness and sweet, creamed corn flavors, but also with more of that dirty earth, this time with some wax. The palate could have offended many, though, and it was not a wine that was pretty by any means. Its texture was its best quality, and although it mellowed out in the glass, and Elaine found it to improve, it was an auspicious beginning to what has to be now considered one of Burgundy’s elite white wines (88). It was on to the reds and a flight of Moutons. The 1988 Mouton had a better nose than I expected, classic in style with its cedar, walnut, cassis, minerals and earth. Frank said that it was still ‘austere. So dry, it gives me goose bumps.’ He was a little ahead of me already! The nose was stereotypically perfect, almost, and slate and plum rounded it out but cedar was the dominating factor, a profile which Elaine could not get past. Unfortunately, the palate lived up to my expectations of ‘Mouton-lite.’ It just lacked the weight and texture in the mouth. There was cedar, pencil shavings, earth and not much more. Who gave this 100 points again? (88). The 1986 Mouton, one of my all-time favorite Moutons, was unfortunately an off bottle, at least the one we had (DQ). We had the 1985 Mouton out of magnum, and it was very fresh and vigorous, more so than the average ’85 I thought, which had to be the magnum factor. The nose was decadently nutty with toast, caramel drops, underlying cassis, coffee, minerals, earth and chocolate croissant aromas. The body was excellent, medium-bodied, spicy with great cedar flavors on its chalky finish. There was some richness to the palate and nice grit, but the wine lacked some weight in the middle, its only noticeable flaw. Bipin assumed his usual position about ’85 vs. ’86, saying ‘The 1985 has been ready to drink for twenty years and is still drinking beautifully. You decide what is the better wine.’ Despite Bipin using the force and one of his Jedi wine tricks, this is one ’85 vs. ’86 debate that he cannot win with me. On this night, however, he was correct, but that is because the ’86 was off, although only my table seemed to notice (93). The 1985 was basically the only enjoyable wine in the flight. I mean, I could probably enjoy the 1988 Mouton on its own, but in the context of other great wines, it was difficult. Now I had the pleasure of sitting with Frank and Jim, aka the Good Lawyer and the Good Doctor, and Mary and Elaine, their wives and two experienced tasters in their own right. Jim and Frank are both avid connoisseurs who are not exactly tiny guys. So when the next wine came out corked, there was mutiny on the bounty. It was too bad, as it was a 2000 Chave ‘Cuvee Cathelin.’ Now I have had that wine three times (two bottles on one occasion actually), and two of the bottles were corked. This is one of those things that make me go ‘hmmmm.’ We quickly got a list and honedin on a 1993 Meo Camuzet Richebourg before someone had a seizure. A debate ensued as to who would try and break that ice with Bipin, as none of us would dare do it without speaking to him first. Bipin is a man of procedure and etiquette if he is nothing else. Of course, I was elected, and I crept over to Bipin’s table, hovering for a couple minutes trying to jump in, but he was deeply entrenched in a conversation with Bernard, so I could not work my way in. I slithered away to the bathroom for a break, only to hear cries of ‘wuss’ from Jim and Frank, and by the time I got back the dessert wine was being served, and the moment was lost. Oh well. We somehow managed. The dessert wine, by the way, was a 2002 Francois Laplace ‘Maydie’ de Tannat. It was a red dessert wine from the South, served slightly chilled and Amarone-like in style yet Banyuls-like in flavor. Made from the Tannat grape, it was port ‘Parisian style,’ with less alcohol yet stil rich, lush and lingering (92). It was time to stick a fork in me, but if someone did, I might have exploded.

I was losing track of time, but it was only Wednesday, which meant it was time to hop a train to Lille and then a van to Belgium to experience the 3-star cuisine of Hof van Cleve. After experiencing a morning in the life of a Parisian and taking the metro (subway) to the ‘gare’ (train station), and using my limited yet effective French, we made the train with about 15 minutes to spare. The van that met us in Lille was one seat short, so I volunteered to sit in the back on the floor, important cargo that I was. By the time we got to Hof van Cleve in the middle of the Belgian countryside, everyone was good and hungry. We started with a NV Gosset ‘Grande Reserve’ Champagne, which had a bready and full-bodied nose and a taut, fresh palate that was finish-centric. It was decent but a bit taut and citrusy, though bright and fresh as it should be (88). A flight of Clos Ste. Hunes was first, beginning with the 1995 Trimbach Riesling ‘Clos Ste. Hune.’ The 1995 had a classic, beautiful CSH nose, very youthful and brimming with minerals and peachy fruit. There were secondary aromas of wood, mild alcohol and what Jim called ‘honeybees.’ Yellow and white flowers were also there along with rainwater, white lilac and a pungent fruit I couldn’t quite peg until Jim helped me out again with ‘grapefruit’ bingo! There was impeccable balance amongst all its aromas, but the wine was a bit shy on the palate. There were a lot of muted fruits and a drop of petrol but other than that it was shut down or was it just not a great Clos Ste. Hune? It was still very good, but there were more skin and rind flavors than fruit. Jim noted how the ‘flavors are gone in fifteen seconds.’ The nose kept improving over time and became quite precise with its anise and mineral components, but the palate never followed suit. It might improve, but it wasn’t obvious to me that it would (91). The 1992 Trimbach Riesling ‘Clos Ste. Hune’ had an intense, more pungent nose, pinchy with its spice and wood, moremature with pruny white and yellow fruits. A lot of petrol, minerals and ‘golden raisins,’ as Russ picked up, rounded out the nose. The wine was showing a lot of flesh on its palate and great balance between its fruit, mineral and petrol flavors. It seemed to be just entering its plateau of maturity. There was not a boatload of acidity, so I do not think it will improve considerably, but it was pretty darn good. Someone noticed that ‘it gets better the weight on the tongue it expands in the mouth.’ Russ admired its ‘nice sweetness to the palate,’ and there were nice apricot and lemon drop flavors that emerged on its finish (93). The 1986 Trimbach Riesling ‘Clos Ste. Hune’ had a great nose. There was this dollop of what I would call pungent, mature Riesling the dried grapefruit along with yellow citrus fruits, a healthy and appealing streak of wood, minerals and tang. The pinch in the nose was super sexy, and the palate was big with youthful acidity, although the flavor profile was on the sour side. Elaine said, ‘it tastes like grapefruit that was picked from the tree too soon,’ and she was also bothered by its ‘stemminess’ as its wood flavors were more pronounced. The wine was still quite layered with the longest acidity of the three by far. It needed a lot more time and started to come around more and more; we ran out of time before it did in the end, and Frans wisely noted that ‘in twenty years, the 1986 will still be here.’ It definitely showed the youngest and had the most potential of the flight (94+). Bipin summed up the flight calling the 1995 ’round, rich and potentially great,’ the 1992 ‘lighter in style,’ and the 1986 ‘extraordinary.’ A pair of Ramonets were next, beginning with the 1989 Ramonet Chassagne Montrachet ‘Les Ruchottes,’ one of my pet wines not specifically the 1989 but the Les Ruchottes in general. The nose had amazing nutty and caramel qualities, quite exotic with its white chocolate, mint and as Russ noted, ‘sausage.’ He was right! Fragrant, forward and honeyed, the 1989 had a kinky edge to its spice, so kinky it turned me on. Let’s not forget the butter and the corn yum. The palate was full of vigor and alcohol with wood, corn and butter flavors as well, a touch rugged but in a good way. Frank called it the ‘best ever’ for Les Ruchottes, and the nose ended up smothered in butter and all about the caramel, while the palate went in a dusty, gritty mineral direction. I had gotten a substitution for my fish dish, and it was beef cheeks. The Ruchottes actually went well with the beef, which brought out its acidity quite nicely. That should give you an idea about how much was going on in this ‘premier cru’ white (96). The 1990 Ramonet Bienvenues Batard Montrachet was a complete contrast in style. Anisy, tight and waxy, its nose was very shy and despite some bread in there, there was a bit of the ‘cleaner syndrome’ here, where a wine takes on aromas similar to a recently waxed floor or polished substance. It was shy but indubitably deep with its cascades of minerals that seemed laced with diamonds. The palate was even shier at first, incredibly youthful, long, lingering and regal yet oh so young. It slowly kept emerging, and someone noted how ‘its finesse and class are superb.’ The acidity was like ‘whoa,’ like a knife in the gut slowly inserted, if that could be a good thing. Some nut and popcorn slowly came out in the glass, as did some sweet corn that was the first sign of any fruit. Elaine noted some ‘white pepper’ (man, she’s good). This was a wine that might have needed a week to open up, and if the fruit ever expands, it could become incredible (95+). Bipin found the 1989 ‘so intensely rich, balanced and extraordinary’ while the 1990 was ‘very, very good but too lean with high acidity and lightness of fruit’ at this stage. We moved on to the reds and two wines from St. Emilion’s self-proclaimed greatest producer, Chateau Figeac. The 1966 Figeac had a sexy nose of red wintry fruits,green olives, milk chocolate and musk. Incredibly fresh and vibrant, its red fruits blossomed into jammier raspberry and strawberry aromas. Its stem and olive aromas balanced out the nose like the scales of justice, and some plum, cassis and Cabernet fruit aromas slipped in there. The palate was very dry, however, and there were lots of alcohol and browned flavors. The wine was overly dry and on the bitter side, still pretty and holding onto whatever youth it may have left by a thread (90). The 1964 Figeac was distinctively different from the 1966, deeper and more chocolaty, nutty and syrupy in character. There were lots of plum, nut and vanilla going around the nose, which was more Pomerol than St. Emilion, with which Chris was quick to agree. The palate was rich, round, balanced and smooth with light dust and grit on its finish. Flavors of black olives and black ‘n white ice cream graced the palate, and the acidity held well in this excellent L’Evangile, I mean Figeac (93). There were three more wines to go, and two of them were Musignys each over 75 years old. The 1915 Guichard-Potheret Musigny had a vibrant nose for the age of ninety, woodsy with its mushroom and forest and meaty with its worcestershire. There was an Madeira-like edge to the wine, which was not maderized but definitely showing some signs of its age. Flavors of worcestershire, dry brown sugar, band-aid and tomato were all present along with some wintry edges to its finish. Nice but not great, it was aliiiiiiiive, I joked. The brown sugar and earth components became more and more pronounced, but for what it was, and if you have a taste for very old wine, it was very good (91). The 1928 Chevillot Musigny was outstanding. Its nose was sweet, seductive and lightly pungent with divine, musky, sexy fruit. There were aromas of red and brown fruits, musk, candied cherry, strawberry ice cream and a pinch of cat’s pee. The palate had excellent vigor dusty, round and long, it was still smooth. There was a ‘just-right’ woodsy kiss. This was big and bodacious Pinot Noir, lush and sweet, reminding me of 1959. Jim noted while after thirty minutes the 1915 was getting tired, the 1928 was not.