Rhône
Jaboulet’s Hermitage “La Chapelle” 1983(14/20) received 98pts from
Parker. I read “Wines of the Rhône Valley and Provence” and became an early
adopter when I followed Parker’s advice and bought some. Sadly, the case has given
very little pleasure, because back in the 80s the bottles were put under an
evil spell that turned all their contents into stone, scuppering mine and
Parker’s fin-de-millennium drinking strategies. The spell was very specific,
because Jaboulet’s Côte Rôtie “Les
Jumelles” 1985(17.5/20) was juicy and sweet, and provided yet more evidence
that this appellation could fit as easily into Burgundy as it does the Northern
Rhône. Interestingly, both wines had
been bought on release, and cellared together. Tasted as a pair they supported
my long held conviction that the difference between good and bad vintages is not
as great as we think, and the temptation for consumers to overvalue, and for producers
to over-macerate hot, dry vintages needs resisting. 
Two white Rhônes were served, Chapoutier Hermitage Blanc “Chante Alouette”
94 (15.5/20) and St-Péray Domaine de
Tunnel 2010 (13/20). Both wines were full, but if I was in the Rhône on one
of those hot, drawn-out summery days, I’m not sure if either of these wines could
wean me off Tavel Rosé.
The Southern Rhône was
represented by Pignan Châteauneuf-du-Pape
1997 (17.5). The pallid colour lowered expectations, but on the palate, the
wine swelled and deepened, impressing with a singular potency that suggested a
high balance of Grenache in the blend.
White Burgundy struggled this
year. Nature had gone about as far as it could agreeably go with Louis Michel’s
skinny Grand Cru Vaudésir 1981 (12.5/20) and 1er
Cru Forchaume 1986 (12/20) , and the wines need to be gently euthanized or
drunk before they attenuate any further. The two Ramonet wines, Grand Cru Bâtard-Montrachet 2001(13/20)
and Chassagne-Montrachet 1er Cru
Morgeots 2009 (15/20) were baffling. A tasting note that includes seaweed,
chamomile and pinewood might flag complexity for some, but there was an
underlying disharmony that some tasters were attributing to it being “a root
day”. More and more “root day” is sounding like a cosmic anthropomorphism contrived
to cover some very human failings. And
Ramonet wasn’t alone in disappointing, Drouhin’s
Marquis de Laguiche Chassagne-Montrachet (Les Morgeots) 99 (15/20) also
struggled to impose any sense of accord. It used to be left to Pinot to spin Burgundy’s
mysteries, but over the last two decades Côte de Beaune Chardonnay has been
vengefully miring itself in controversy too.
Jean-Jacques Confuron’s 2002 Romanée St Vivant (16.5+) was decanted
early. There was a certain dissonance between the fruit and the tannins, the
wine’s musculature remained cramped and stiff, but I suspect these are just
growing pains, and there is a nimble future ahead. The next decade will be
tougher for D’Angerville’s 1er Cru
Volnay Fremiet 99 (13/20) which seemed as hapless in the glass as a
jellyfish beached above the tide. The wine lacked structure and shape, so
despite the abundance of fruit, I wasn’t sure whether I should drink the liquid
or prod it with a piece of driftwood.
Bordeaux
Pointillism was a technique used
by Seurat, Van Gogh and Angrand. Despite the fundamental discontinuity of its
method, pointillism was capable of extraordinary subtlety. For me, pointillism provides
a good metaphor for the Médoc and Haut Médoc, which seem grittily composed of
opposites - fruit/tannin, glycerol/mineral, ripe/acid – just as Seurat believed
in the fundamental graininess of all matter. If these differences are out of
balance, or their constitution is too coarse, then the wine fails to attain
harmony. Perspective is hard-earned. The most appealing part of this analogy derives from the fact that
we, as drinkers, are actively engaged in the final constitution of elements;
the wine offered-up to our senses isn’t quite the finished object; the
intellect is needed to complete the picture.
We drank some fine Bordeaux. Château Cos d’Estournel 1995 (17.5) was
loosening-up nicely, but on the day was outshone by a remarkable magnum of Château Cantemerle 1998 (18.00), which,
at the moment of ingestion, tweaked the blurred elements of fruit spice and
earth into sharp focus. Innevitably,
everyone was pleased to get Château
Mouton Rothschild 1986 (17.5) set before them, but the fragrance was slow to
come, and we were all very impatient drinkers by this time. Château Bahans Haut-Brions 2005 (14.5)
and Château Lynch-Bages 2000 (15.5+) were
young, firm, and wanting. If the first three Haut Médoc’s served-up tender
fillet, then the last two were like chuck steak, chewy and unyielding; and this
mattered, because, if you hadn’t noticed, we were kings for the day, and after
this much wine we’d given-up on being gracious monarchs.
We tasted one Pomerol, Château Vieux Chateau Certan 2004(16.0+),
which appeared rigid and isolated, despite the fact it had resisted adding all
the thick gym muscles of nearby estates.
Our final Bordeaux was white, Château Margaux, Pavillon Blanc 2001 (15-/20)
which I scored 15, though I can’t remember why, which probably means it deserved
less.
Italy and Spain
If there was one Paulée wine I
would choose to rendezvous with again, it would be Giacomo Conterno’s Barolo 2005 (18.0+).
Where the soup of molecules within la
Chapelle’s tannic shell remained confused and disparate, those in
Conterno’s wine were gathering into palate pleasing configurations. You could
already sense this ample wine’s inexorable slide towards perfection, like the slow,
melting ride of a glacier towards the sea. 
Riva al Fosso il Poggiolo 1998(17) was from Brunello, but (and this
amused me) failed to make the classification because the stems of half of the
bunches were twisted before the harvest. Despite all this labour, the wine was only
medium-bodied, and my glass, with its whiff of tomato leaf, herbs and antipasti
was doing a great job of publicizing Italy’s broad-base of provisions.
The Rest
We were served two Champagnes. Bollinger’s RD 99 Extra-Brut(17) had a
hard brilliance, though, I have to admit, the extra-brut-thing kind of passes
me by, because I always thought Champagne’s sweetness was something of a secret
anyway; and Salon 96 (16), which seemed content just pushing
champagnisation (the process) to its lumbering limits.
Willi Haag, Sonnenuhr
Auslese 1990 (18.5) provided an unexpected peak to the day’s white wine
drinking. There are more expensive producers, but the whole structure, body and
balance of the wine was articulated through a succession of flavours.
Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of Weinbach Grand Cru Schlossberg 1988(14) or Hugel’s Jubilee Pinot Gris 96 (12) which jogged my memory back to a
lecture at which I’d learnt the end point of wine oxidation was CO2 and
water. By this point in the day, my body craved water, but not watery wine.
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