Every year around Christmastime, three of my friends and I get together for a little holiday dinner. We’ve known each other since elementary school in Forest Hills, NY, and the quartet reached its full flower in middle school, where we were one of the more disruptive elements of a large but loosely defined clique and had a lot of fun right up until graduation. We all still live in Manhattan, ironically, and about five years ago I hit on the idea to start organizing the dinners.
Last year, we decided to go to a French restaurant. The season wasn’t shaping up to be anything particularly special, but the dinner was easy to coordinate, for a change, and I was really looking forward to it as I’d picked out a very cozy and warm little restaurant, Bistro Les Amis, in SoHo.
The week before the dinner, I was wine shopping as per usual, picking out a bottle of Burgundy for a colleague of mine who was leaving his job for something better. At the last minute, after I had paid, I decided to swing by the end of the counter and look in the bargain bin to see if there was anything of interest. I’d had luck there before, but this time it was even better. I noticed an old bottle of what looked like Bordeaux. On closer inspection it turned out to be a bottle of 1962 Pichon Baron. I was immediately excited, as you can imagine!
The fill was middle to lower shoulder but some of the still intact foil had been cut off to reveal a cork that was very sturdy looking. The label was quite faded but intact. The price might lead one to believe that the wine could be shot - $75. A bottle of ’61 Pichon Baron that they had in stock from the same cellar was almost $400. Why so cheap on this ’62? We know that ’62 is overshadowed by ’61, but it’s also considered to be a very good vintage, verging on excellent. Some say it’s one of the three best vintages of the ‘60s, along with ’66.
I thought it over for awhile, asking the owner some questions. He thought it had great potential but there were no guarantees. He mentioned that the price was lower because there was only a single bottle. Don’t ask me why that would diminish its value. I was thinking, "when will I drink this? I’ve got to get to it soon." Suddenly, I had a moment of clarity – I could bring it to the Christmas dinner where it would be, get this – all four of our birth year wines! The beauty of school friends, with so much in common becomes clearer than ever at times like these. Even if the wine was dead, it would be a great party favor and would save me the chore of finding three individual Christmas presents.
I bought the bottle and immediately proceeded to look for notes online. None of them were particularly encouraging. Most suggested that it was way past it’s prime, and probably overly acidic due to the style of the vintage. But I was intrepid and kept my fingers crossed.
Four days later, we met at the restaurant. Bistrot Les Amis asked for a reasonable corkage and provided excellent service, although I brought my own glasses. Everyone on the staff was intrigued by the 45 year old bottle of Bordeaux and it cemented my reputation as a wine lover at one of my favorite local haunts. We ordered a bottle of Chateau de Fonbel, St. Emilion 2004, a 90 pt wine, just to have some more wine at the table and in case the Baron had flown his last flight long ago. I had the Baron chilled slightly as it was a little warmer than it should be.
I pulled the cork myself. Amazingly, it easily came out in one piece. It was very long. I poured out some wine. It was fully intact! The wine was a ruby red color and when I say ruby red, this is what rubies must really look like. It was gorgeous, fully mature red wine, and it reeked of tobacco. It was full bodied, with a long finish and flavors of chocolate and currants on the palate. It grew and grew as the night progress, easily lasting the full meal and seemingly growing stronger up to the last drops. It was fully alive.
Very well balanced, it surely had seen days of greater fruit concentration. However, it was richly satisfying, and spoke of a style of wine with longevity, gravity, depth and complexity that one will only encounter rarely unless you’re a member of the wine trade. It went perfectly with the food, and it was great to see my friend’s faces as they drank it. It was a great party.
Ahem, the Fonbel. The Chateau Fonbel provided a nice contrast. Not that it provided much else. Next to the Baron, it reminded me of Beaujoulais, of which I’m not a great fan. Extremely light and fruity, with a slight chemical or medicinal flavor that I associate with gamay, I’m sure the wine would have been much better if it wasn’t tasted next to a 45 year old Pauillac. However, it did serve a great purpose by assuring me that I wasn’t simply seduced by the atmosphere and history of the immaculately preserved, mature Bordeaux. The 1962 Pichon Baron was certainly the real deal.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
1986 Gruaud Larose
A friend of mine bought a new house. I heard all about it from him over the course of months, the negotiations, closing, about the house and finally moving in, some work that was done and more. It wasn’t just any house, though. It had been owned by a very famous American, and handed down to his son who in turn had had a prominent political career. I expected it to be quite impressive but nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see.
I knew it was big, and on a lot of land. But I didn’t know that it had been designed and constructed by one of the most famous East Coast architectural firms of the 20th century. Of course, everyone loves old houses, historic houses, even more. This one had been built in the 1930s. I love the 1930s. Think: Empire State Building, Dinner At Eight, William Faulkner’s “Sanctuary.” Well, maybe not that – think the opposite of that.
But you’re thinking, what about the wine? Is this just another article like all those that plague the NY Times nowadays, where the subtext of every story is real estate? No, I’m getting to that. You see – there was a wine cellar. I asked my friend, who prefers Italian wine to French, what kind of wine I should bring with me. He said, let’s do Italian. He also said, I’ve got a few reds on hand. I didn’t know about the wine cellar yet. Restraint and discipline are the cardinal rules of effective surprise. Surprise and delight, I might add… My friend had that part down.
I didn’t see the wine cellar until well into my visit. I was so excited by the house itself and finally visiting my friend there that I didn’t rush into the basement looking for the cellar like the mad wine freak that I am. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The house was so big, I probably wouldn’t have been able to find it, anyway.
So the house, the house. Let’s revisit that for a moment before we check in on our wines. We spent some time in the solarium, no really we just looked at it through some glass in the ballroom. I visited the boys, and the girls’ rooms, delightful little powder rooms located on the first floor and painted in appropriate colors – blue and pink. Perfect for freshening up after a long ride in from Rhode Island. Or a late night rendezvous during a Gatsbyesque revel.
Ok, so we’re thirsty by now. Just the mention of Gatsby makes me think of mint juleps, of 1928 Lafite and ’22 Musigny – in a former life I must have been a landowner in Burgundy – make that a nobleman. Or maybe just a peasant who killed his own game and repaired to perfect local bottle of carignan? No matter – the grape is in my blood and being in such opulent settings sets my mind to the thought of liquid recreation amongst other things. It certainly was the stuff of fantasies. Did twelve rooms ever look so grand? That wouldn’t include the servants’ wing, of course – big enough to house my entire apartment in Manhattan about three times over.
But I’m boring you. You want to know what wine I brought. Not really? You want to hear about the wine cellar, and whether – the important question – the contents of the wine cellar had been sold along with the house? You’re very clever! Yes it’s true – the contents of the cellar might not have made it into my friend’s possession when he took possession of the glorious container of the cellar, also known as the house. In fact yes – several verticals of Petrus had already been sold off to an auction house before the day of my arrival, pity…
Not knowing what to expect, I had brought a good solid red but nothing extravagant, a Roagna ’95 Barolo Rocca la Pira Reserva. It made for an interesting comparison and held its own, admirably. OK, so we cut to the chase. The cellar was limping a bit. The furnace of the house must have been hijacked from the Chrysler Building, it was so big, and generated a huge amount of heat, which was enough to put the refrigeration system in the cellar in need of a tune-up.
There was a small display of 1st growths albeit from the 19th century, hanging on by a thread. A bunch of red and white burgundy from… the ‘70s looked enticing but probably in need of a salad. However there were a few intesting bottles around, besides the ones that my friend had added recently. The racks that had held the verticals of Petrus, et al, gaped from their glassed-in temperature controlled tanks, reminding me of what could have been.
After sniffing around for a bit, my friend proffered a bottle of 1986 Gruaud Larose and said, “what about this one?” I pounced! Yes! That looks great to me. It was hard to tear myself away but we returned to the professional chef sized kitchen and grilled some chicken on the indoor barbeque. True to its pedigree, the ’86 Larose was beautiful. A big wine, still young, but perhaps showing a little more evolution than an example I had tasted a year or so previously. Lots of tobacco and a beautiful red/mahogany color were followed by rich currants and a silky texture. As it opened up further, more complexity and depth revealed itself.
The Roagna made an excellent showing, acquitting itself admirably. It was more evolved in color, but had similar full body, good fruit and a long finish. The biggest difference was the acidity, which was much more prominent. And of course, the quality, subtlety and complexity of the Gruaud was much in evidence. Even my friend, the Italian wine lover, was bowled over by it.
I haven’t returned to the house since then. The renovations, painting and repairs have dragged on now for a half a year, although many would say that’s nothing. They have made my friend a virtual prisoner on his estate, not to mention a slave to his job. Hopefully there will be a chance for a summer party. The time is right.
I knew it was big, and on a lot of land. But I didn’t know that it had been designed and constructed by one of the most famous East Coast architectural firms of the 20th century. Of course, everyone loves old houses, historic houses, even more. This one had been built in the 1930s. I love the 1930s. Think: Empire State Building, Dinner At Eight, William Faulkner’s “Sanctuary.” Well, maybe not that – think the opposite of that.
But you’re thinking, what about the wine? Is this just another article like all those that plague the NY Times nowadays, where the subtext of every story is real estate? No, I’m getting to that. You see – there was a wine cellar. I asked my friend, who prefers Italian wine to French, what kind of wine I should bring with me. He said, let’s do Italian. He also said, I’ve got a few reds on hand. I didn’t know about the wine cellar yet. Restraint and discipline are the cardinal rules of effective surprise. Surprise and delight, I might add… My friend had that part down.
I didn’t see the wine cellar until well into my visit. I was so excited by the house itself and finally visiting my friend there that I didn’t rush into the basement looking for the cellar like the mad wine freak that I am. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The house was so big, I probably wouldn’t have been able to find it, anyway.
So the house, the house. Let’s revisit that for a moment before we check in on our wines. We spent some time in the solarium, no really we just looked at it through some glass in the ballroom. I visited the boys, and the girls’ rooms, delightful little powder rooms located on the first floor and painted in appropriate colors – blue and pink. Perfect for freshening up after a long ride in from Rhode Island. Or a late night rendezvous during a Gatsbyesque revel.
Ok, so we’re thirsty by now. Just the mention of Gatsby makes me think of mint juleps, of 1928 Lafite and ’22 Musigny – in a former life I must have been a landowner in Burgundy – make that a nobleman. Or maybe just a peasant who killed his own game and repaired to perfect local bottle of carignan? No matter – the grape is in my blood and being in such opulent settings sets my mind to the thought of liquid recreation amongst other things. It certainly was the stuff of fantasies. Did twelve rooms ever look so grand? That wouldn’t include the servants’ wing, of course – big enough to house my entire apartment in Manhattan about three times over.
But I’m boring you. You want to know what wine I brought. Not really? You want to hear about the wine cellar, and whether – the important question – the contents of the wine cellar had been sold along with the house? You’re very clever! Yes it’s true – the contents of the cellar might not have made it into my friend’s possession when he took possession of the glorious container of the cellar, also known as the house. In fact yes – several verticals of Petrus had already been sold off to an auction house before the day of my arrival, pity…
Not knowing what to expect, I had brought a good solid red but nothing extravagant, a Roagna ’95 Barolo Rocca la Pira Reserva. It made for an interesting comparison and held its own, admirably. OK, so we cut to the chase. The cellar was limping a bit. The furnace of the house must have been hijacked from the Chrysler Building, it was so big, and generated a huge amount of heat, which was enough to put the refrigeration system in the cellar in need of a tune-up.
There was a small display of 1st growths albeit from the 19th century, hanging on by a thread. A bunch of red and white burgundy from… the ‘70s looked enticing but probably in need of a salad. However there were a few intesting bottles around, besides the ones that my friend had added recently. The racks that had held the verticals of Petrus, et al, gaped from their glassed-in temperature controlled tanks, reminding me of what could have been.
After sniffing around for a bit, my friend proffered a bottle of 1986 Gruaud Larose and said, “what about this one?” I pounced! Yes! That looks great to me. It was hard to tear myself away but we returned to the professional chef sized kitchen and grilled some chicken on the indoor barbeque. True to its pedigree, the ’86 Larose was beautiful. A big wine, still young, but perhaps showing a little more evolution than an example I had tasted a year or so previously. Lots of tobacco and a beautiful red/mahogany color were followed by rich currants and a silky texture. As it opened up further, more complexity and depth revealed itself.
The Roagna made an excellent showing, acquitting itself admirably. It was more evolved in color, but had similar full body, good fruit and a long finish. The biggest difference was the acidity, which was much more prominent. And of course, the quality, subtlety and complexity of the Gruaud was much in evidence. Even my friend, the Italian wine lover, was bowled over by it.
I haven’t returned to the house since then. The renovations, painting and repairs have dragged on now for a half a year, although many would say that’s nothing. They have made my friend a virtual prisoner on his estate, not to mention a slave to his job. Hopefully there will be a chance for a summer party. The time is right.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
The Bordeaux Wine Enthusiasts Part II
One must wonder at times, in what state the members of an international, internet wine drinking group would tend to be doing their posting. I mean, I for one would Never turn on my computer after drinking a bottle of Chateauneuf des Papes. Nooo sir… But the temptation is there, what with the occasional virtual tasting, and the propensity for some to simply begin their tasting notes at the point at which the bottle is first uncorked. And it would follow that this state of participation might lead to a colorful repartee, a few misguided comments, the occasional virtual punch-up...
It’s true, there are some flare-ups, and some have even misguidedly ventured into the political arena, but never the actual arena. Most disturbances are mercifully brief, although there were quite a few boilovers in the early days. Come to think of it, there were a few pot-stirrers, as well. Typical topics of discussion often revolve around Parkerized wines vs. classic wines, investment strategies vs. drinking strategies, and so on.
But there is a bone of contention, not necessarily amoung the BWEers themselves who are relatively unified in their opinion, but involving a certain quasi-prominent wine critic and his favoring of the ’95 vintage over the ’96 in Bordeaux. BWE comes down solidly on the side of ’96, because of the outstanding quality of the Left Bank in that vintage. The ’95 vintage is favored by James Suckling, Bordeaux and Italy critic for the Wine Spectator, and he rarely misses a chance to plug his favorite, largely because he seems to prefer Right Bank, merlot based wines overall, and ’95 shines in that area. So it’s really a feud, now very much dormant, however always in danger of flaring up, between BWE and one of its especially prominent members, and James Suckling and the Wine Spectator. Although admittedly it’s a feud where one of the combatants is decidedly obscure, eccentric, and whimsical, no matter how aristocratic, romantic, courageous and intellectually superior he may be.
No large group is without its foibles of course. I tend to avoid feuds in general, but can’t help using this opportunity to mention a few negatives. One revolves around the natural tendency of posters to do a bit of bragging, however unintentional it may be. I mean really, if I go home tonight and drink a bottle of 1995 Grand Puy Lacoste with my lusty girlfriend, am I a humble man? Irrelevant. And then I tell you about it? Certainly not. But everything being relative, I must say the tendency of some people to respond to your posting about a particularly fine bottle of wine that you just had by stating that they’re sitting on several cases of it is not exactly gracious. Another gambit that irks me is the “Lowball Response,” for example when you mention in a thread in post-shopping therapy bliss of how you just scored a case of one of your favorite wines at an unheard of price, you don’t exactly want to have someone chiming in with, “Yeah, that’s a nice wine – I just paid 20% less for it at so-and-so’s.” These are minor complaints, but it’s enough that at times I studiously try to avoid the postings of certain members who seem to make these practices a regular part of their commentary.
But some more interesting clashes have popped up. More than a few involved a high end inebriate going by the name Pomerolover. He first came to my attention in my noticing the straightforwardness of his moniker. Before long, however I saw that he had become embroiled in one flare-up after another, most notably with a fellow who goes by the name of Compte Flaneur. Their embroglio descended to the level of politics, as they often do, and lasted some 100 posts with all manner of name calling and whatnot.
You can imagine my delight when I put together my first full scale BWE tasting, on the Margaux appellation (a difficult choice but it had to be done) and I saw that on the list of attendees was the notorious Compte. A deceptively polite and erudite Englishman showed up at the tasting and we hit it off right away. His dark side has surfaced on more than one occasion since then but always in acceptable circumstances. I never did meet “Pom” but the agitative Compte has managed a few more scrapes in the intervening time.
A more recent development stands as one of the most serious feuds yet on BWE. A very active member who for lack of a more secretive nickname must remain nameless, became irksome to our BD on more than one occasion and they had minor words. The offended party left the board in a huff and several of his most loyal followers went with him. It was a shame because it knocked a substantial piece off the core of the NYC crew. But the recovery has been taking hold and one could even say that dullness has set in for the moment.
Sparks may yet again fly, and in person this time, though it’s highly doubtful, when the group convenes in the fall for a 1986 Horizontal. The scabrous Compte has organized the event, and at least one of his nemesis is scheduled to attend. One could almost see a sort of ‘pistols at dawn’ scenario in the making but the likelihood of any BWE member being able to hit the side of barn after one of our spirited soirees makes the likelihood of such a violent development almost nil.
Of course, I’m probably almost as guilty of it as the next guy when it comes to polluting cyberspace with gin-soaked drivel. One of the reasons that I started my blog was to spare the members of the board the hazard of my sometimes overtly personal posts. I needed another outlet for my writing. Wine wise and otherwise.
Really, it’s amazing - I never expected to get so much enjoyment out of membership in an internet group. Through BWE some incredible people have invited me into their homes for dinner in some of the most beautiful locals of Europe, and I’ve had an absolute blast with others on my home turf of NYC, as well. The generosity of the group members has been astonishing. And I’ve learned an enormous amount about wine. There’s still a long way to go, and I’m sure BWE will be traveling there with me.
It’s true, there are some flare-ups, and some have even misguidedly ventured into the political arena, but never the actual arena. Most disturbances are mercifully brief, although there were quite a few boilovers in the early days. Come to think of it, there were a few pot-stirrers, as well. Typical topics of discussion often revolve around Parkerized wines vs. classic wines, investment strategies vs. drinking strategies, and so on.
But there is a bone of contention, not necessarily amoung the BWEers themselves who are relatively unified in their opinion, but involving a certain quasi-prominent wine critic and his favoring of the ’95 vintage over the ’96 in Bordeaux. BWE comes down solidly on the side of ’96, because of the outstanding quality of the Left Bank in that vintage. The ’95 vintage is favored by James Suckling, Bordeaux and Italy critic for the Wine Spectator, and he rarely misses a chance to plug his favorite, largely because he seems to prefer Right Bank, merlot based wines overall, and ’95 shines in that area. So it’s really a feud, now very much dormant, however always in danger of flaring up, between BWE and one of its especially prominent members, and James Suckling and the Wine Spectator. Although admittedly it’s a feud where one of the combatants is decidedly obscure, eccentric, and whimsical, no matter how aristocratic, romantic, courageous and intellectually superior he may be.
No large group is without its foibles of course. I tend to avoid feuds in general, but can’t help using this opportunity to mention a few negatives. One revolves around the natural tendency of posters to do a bit of bragging, however unintentional it may be. I mean really, if I go home tonight and drink a bottle of 1995 Grand Puy Lacoste with my lusty girlfriend, am I a humble man? Irrelevant. And then I tell you about it? Certainly not. But everything being relative, I must say the tendency of some people to respond to your posting about a particularly fine bottle of wine that you just had by stating that they’re sitting on several cases of it is not exactly gracious. Another gambit that irks me is the “Lowball Response,” for example when you mention in a thread in post-shopping therapy bliss of how you just scored a case of one of your favorite wines at an unheard of price, you don’t exactly want to have someone chiming in with, “Yeah, that’s a nice wine – I just paid 20% less for it at so-and-so’s.” These are minor complaints, but it’s enough that at times I studiously try to avoid the postings of certain members who seem to make these practices a regular part of their commentary.
But some more interesting clashes have popped up. More than a few involved a high end inebriate going by the name Pomerolover. He first came to my attention in my noticing the straightforwardness of his moniker. Before long, however I saw that he had become embroiled in one flare-up after another, most notably with a fellow who goes by the name of Compte Flaneur. Their embroglio descended to the level of politics, as they often do, and lasted some 100 posts with all manner of name calling and whatnot.
You can imagine my delight when I put together my first full scale BWE tasting, on the Margaux appellation (a difficult choice but it had to be done) and I saw that on the list of attendees was the notorious Compte. A deceptively polite and erudite Englishman showed up at the tasting and we hit it off right away. His dark side has surfaced on more than one occasion since then but always in acceptable circumstances. I never did meet “Pom” but the agitative Compte has managed a few more scrapes in the intervening time.
A more recent development stands as one of the most serious feuds yet on BWE. A very active member who for lack of a more secretive nickname must remain nameless, became irksome to our BD on more than one occasion and they had minor words. The offended party left the board in a huff and several of his most loyal followers went with him. It was a shame because it knocked a substantial piece off the core of the NYC crew. But the recovery has been taking hold and one could even say that dullness has set in for the moment.
Sparks may yet again fly, and in person this time, though it’s highly doubtful, when the group convenes in the fall for a 1986 Horizontal. The scabrous Compte has organized the event, and at least one of his nemesis is scheduled to attend. One could almost see a sort of ‘pistols at dawn’ scenario in the making but the likelihood of any BWE member being able to hit the side of barn after one of our spirited soirees makes the likelihood of such a violent development almost nil.
Of course, I’m probably almost as guilty of it as the next guy when it comes to polluting cyberspace with gin-soaked drivel. One of the reasons that I started my blog was to spare the members of the board the hazard of my sometimes overtly personal posts. I needed another outlet for my writing. Wine wise and otherwise.
Really, it’s amazing - I never expected to get so much enjoyment out of membership in an internet group. Through BWE some incredible people have invited me into their homes for dinner in some of the most beautiful locals of Europe, and I’ve had an absolute blast with others on my home turf of NYC, as well. The generosity of the group members has been astonishing. And I’ve learned an enormous amount about wine. There’s still a long way to go, and I’m sure BWE will be traveling there with me.
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