WTN: Viré Clessé from Plato's Cave

2002 Domaine de la Bongran Viré Clessé Cuvée Tradition 14.0%
For the expression "Plato's Cave," the word "Cave" can be pronounced in English or French.

In English, it's a well-known metaphor for living in a world of illusions, Plato having suggested that we could never access reality, only its shadows projected on the walls of our caves [he had cave (English) dwellers in mind; winegeeks, on the other hand, are cave (French) dwellers].

Pronounced in French, Plato's Cave is the underground cellar that Plato filled with archetypes from each appellation, a veritable catalogue of what each wine should taste like. The AOC system is nothing if not Platonic in inspiration.

On pulling the cork, I was SO glad this wasn't premoxed, you can't believe. In fact, I was hard pressed not to handicap it (in reverse) just for being sound. And sound it was, a sound I could bite. Gorgeous aromas of white flowers, hazelnuts, ripe melons and honey, underlined by a serious mineral streak that said "baby, am I ever going to take you for a ride." No sign of wood, praise the lawd. In ze mouth, perfect weight, crisp acidity, and honeyed sweetness, all harmoniously integrated. Marcia says "this is my platonic ideal for chardonnay." I think maybe, just maybe, a wee bit more acidity would be welcome, but then I remind myself, from many a night of raucous drinking and drunken philosophizing with the Man himself, that the chards in Plato's cave (French) had exactly this much acidity. Taking this for what it's meant to be, it's hard to imagine better. Pleasure to be had in spades, hearts, diamonds and clubs.

Without enough unoaked Chablis in my cellar, I was beginning to despair of finding a chard that pulled its weight without oak, and beginning to tautologically conclude that chard needs oak to pull its weight. Believe! If this saw any new oak, it's integrated in the most desirable way possible. If it didn't, then who needs it? Plato, my man, this one's for you.

It was the Domaine Pascal Bonhomme Viré Clessé that had me rethink chardonnay, though unlike the wine you describe above there is some wood there but just the hint. It's as if the wine said "oh, yeah there's a tiny bit of new oak over there in the corner, don't worry about it have another sip." I think in the interest of the philosophy I need to go out and buy more Viré Clessé.

thanks for such a well written note. I'll confess that while I've liked some Thevenet, they're so idiosyncratic that they're pretty far from my ideal for Chardonnay. Often there's botrytis (your "honeyed sweetness"?), extreme ripeness, etc. My personal ideal is a bit leaner.

thanks for such a well written note. I'll confess that while I've liked some Thevenet, they're so idiosyncratic that they're pretty far from my ideal for Chardonnay. Often there's botrytis (your "honeyed sweetness"?), extreme ripeness, etc. My personal ideal is a bit leaner.

Excellent point, a Platonic Macon might indeed be quite a bit leaner than this. Looking back, I think the lack of wood made it seem more austere than a typical Meursault, so even though it's richer that a typical Macon, in my mind it struck a sort of middle ground between Macon and Cote de Beaune that felt Platonic for white Burgundy as a whole, if one can speak of such a diverse category (or even its constituent parts) in such terms.

I don't remember the producer's name but I do remember a Macon Vire Lugny or Clesse that was an inspired pairing with an apple-based salad at a wine dinner some years ago. The unoaked Chardonnay evinced green apples and just added to the enjoyment of the dish. Your Vire Clesse does sound more ripe or lush than the crispness of the one I had.