Icons, Unicorns and Relics

The last few months have been a pretty special run of opening and drinking great, rare and old wines. I’m not really a big label drinker most of the time. I first got into wine through blind tasting, and that has largely shaped what I choose to drink at home to this day. What’s in the glass is more important to me, though a label can unquestionably provide context and enhance the experience in some cases. To open so many great wines in such a short space of time feels excessive, especially looking back on some dinners where many were opened in one sitting. But, in the end, the point of these wines was always to drink them, and though many delivered incredible experiences and delivered in the glass, some were either disappointing, tired or outright faulty, to the inevitable dismay of those who brought them. What follows below is largely a highlight reel, with a few lows, concluding with some thoughts on what a great wine is and when we should drink them.

Enough has been said about 1982 over the years that there is little new I can offer, but I tried three of the first growths at a dinner and then a fourth the following lunchtime. This is not normal behaviour, even in the trade, and a rare treat to compare and contrast styles and quality. For what it’s worth, the Lafite, Latour and Mouton were served together blind. I immediately preferred the Latour, but guessed it as Lafite. I should know better, over the years the muscle, sinew and depth of the wine is always what I look for in great, mature Bordeaux. All three were obviously from the top of the pyramid in a great year, but Latour stood apart. The next day at lunch we had an easy task guessing Haut Brion down to château and vintage. Recent context helped, but Haut Brion in the 1980s (and in several 90s vintages) is just so distinctive. Powerful, rich yet never heavy, with a smoky, open fire and hot earth note layered on sumptuous fruit, even at 43 years old. I’m not sure how much longer these 1982s will continue at the peak of their powers, but they are so gorgeous now I can’t really see a reason to wait. 

Continuing in that vein, I drank another Bordeaux 1982 that will be the best I drink this year, and perhaps for several years. A full angels-singing, transcendent bottle of Lafleur 1982. Points are pretty irrelevant when you drink wines like this – it’s obviously 100 but it means more than that. The haunting aromatics, almost decadent in fruit and savour; the impeccable chocolatey but crunchy balance of ripe but not over-ripe Merlot; the chalky, layered freshness of Franc; the apex maturity and the pure x-factor of the wine. This wine makes your hairs stand on end, and had the table muttering to themselves in expletives and thanking the very generous donor of said bottle unreservedly. The only issue I had, and why points don’t always work, is that it was served next to a 1975 Lafleur that on any other night would have stolen the show (and been given a perfect score). This too was layered, smooth, supple but fresh and bursting with individual character. It just wasn’t the 1982. WOTY (Wine of the Year), and then some. 

The wine I thought would claim that title early on comes from a producer that anyone who has read my writing before will not be surprised with – Domaine Jamet. This, however, was a rare treat from a friend who brought it to a celebratory (and very excessive lunch) – Côte Brune 1996. The vintage doesn’t have the reputation of the years that follow or precede it (indeed 1990, 1991, 1995, 1997, 1998 and 1999 might all be considered ‘greater’ years for the northern Rhône), but my goodness, this was good. If you were to capture the essence of what Jamet is, the top notes of bacon, rosemary and pressed flowers, the incredible interplay of freshness and depth, and the vibrant, moreish drinkability that keeps you coming back, this was it. To say this bottle surpassed my expectations does not do it justice. World-class Syrah, and like the '82 Bordeaux, at its apex right now.

Opening bottles like this inevitable leads to disappointments – a 1928 Haut Bailly was sadly well past its best, a 2005 Clos de Bèze Rousseau was in its awkward phase, a pair of 1945 Bordeaux had different issues and most sad of all was a Fonsalette Syrah 1989 (my vintage) opened especially but which was sadly corked. But this makes the triumphs feel all the sweeter. A 1945 Talbot was not a blockbuster but instead extremely elegant, classy and typically St Julien despite such a long time in bottle. 1990 Hermitage La Chapelle has long been a big, bold wine but the bottle we opened was now, finally, at its peak. It was, though, perhaps outdone by a 1978 La Chapelle opened a month or so later, the “back up” for Reynaud’s 1989. This wine is all you could want from Hermitage, bacon, fruit, muscle and sinew, wrapped in a satin-like savoury pillow that only bottle age can provide.  

I’m acutely aware that this list is all red and all French – I confess that preference and access causes the latter while I always consider non red wines less likely to captivate a room as they simply come to early, or too late, in an evening. There are a handful of noteworthy additions for this list, though. 1949 Yquem is a marvel that I am lucky enough to have tried twice, fully resolved and seductive rather than overtly sweet or sticky. Jean-Marie Guffens’ Pouilly Fuissé Les Croux and Petits Croux 2020 has 100 points from William Kelley, and my two experiences from bottle so far have done nothing to suggest it is anything but perfect. Kelley’s own Aligoté is a rare beast and expertly done – I have tried several of his wines from barrel but this white from bottle showcases his skills beyond wine criticism. In Champagne, it’s hard to look past bottles from my two favourite growers: Ulysse Collin’s 2019-base 48 month Pierrières is a complete, smoky, supple and beautifully formed wine. Egly-Ouriet’s Vieillisement Prolongée is one of my favourites from this estate, and a bottle disgorged in 2016 was similarly outstanding. More robust and rich, this wine is just hitting its stride.

Outside of France, I have had great bottles of Porseleinberg 2013 (more Hermitage or Cornas in those days than the Côte-Rôtie style of recent years), a tryptic of most impressive, well-stored 1993 Chardonnays from Marcassin’s heyday, rare bottlings of white from Suertes del Marques and upcomer Finca La Habanera tasted on-site in Tenerife, some 2002 Eiswein from Donnhoff that lingered with me despite so many wines that came before it, a well-decanted Burlotto Monvigliero 2016 that outshone a stodgy 2010 Bartolo Mascarello, a(nother) brilliant bottle of Kumeu River’s 2007 Hunting Hill and a very rare bottle of 1875 Malvasia from d’Oliveiras, that has more in common with digestifs such is its power and drive, than any normal wine. I have also been on a run of brilliant Syrahs from South Africa that, though young, continue to impress me – Van Loggerenberg’s Graft, Minimalist’s Stars in the Dark, and both the AVA and auction bottling NOA from Donnovan Rall are all wines that will be stars of the future. 

It seems fitting, though, to end with four wines that tug on my heartstrings (and which are, again, French reds). Trevallon is an individual wine, but the 1982 is an individually brilliant vintage within this unique property. A bottle of this Syrah-Cabernet blend went toe to toe with 1982 first growths (and those 1982 and 1975 Lafleurs) and was still one of the best – and for some people the best – wines of the night. 1989 Lynch Bages was one of the first great wines I tasted from my vintage and it continues to deliver with such consistency. As wines reach a certain age, the adage that there are only great bottles rather than great wines is proven above, but this wine seems to have a very high floor, with even the less good bottles still delivering high quality. One can only hope that modern winemaking and bottling techniques will make this the case for more wines in the future. Next, a wine that can be variable in Château Rayas. I find many of the modern vintages a little excessive, 2008 being a go-to wine that hits the ethereal top-notes I crave from Reynaud. A bottle of 2012 served recently did just that, but with more undertow and depth, a bottle that shows how high the ceiling can be here. Lastly, it’s my desert island producer once more. There is an upcoming blog on back-to-back dinners focused on Jamet and Allemand, featuring many wines that should really be included here. By way of preview I will focus on just Jamet’s 1999 Côte-Rôtie, which is a complete wine at perfect maturity. Like the 1996 Côte Brune it captured the essence of the producer, but here in a supple, velveteen-textured and yet effortlessly powerful way. 

Looking back on the last few months, it’s hard not to feel bashful at just how many great wines I have been lucky enough to try. There have been many miscues along the way, and I often find the wines I most enjoy from start to finish are not those burdened with reputations that mean they are often drunk too fast with too many people and other comparable wines to truly appreciate a bottle from start to finish. My favourite wines are often informed by personal bias - I clearly love Syrah, France and reds more than anything else. A great wine is often defined by not conforming to the norm - it needs an x-factor or separating character in aroma, texture or flavour to set itself apart, often in ways that might not be considered technically optimal. I find, too, that except for fortified wines I am trying not to hang on to bottles for too long. The wines that show well at over 40 years can be exceptional, but the hit rate diminishes quickly past a certain point, and I would rather drink a wine approaching its apex than one whose best days are in the rear-view mirror. I wouldn’t be holding my 1982 Bordeaux or 1978 Rhônes to see where they go, and I think I would say the same for most wines from the 1990s. Icons and unicorns are certainly fun to open, but they really should be enjoyed before they become relics.