WTN - Corton, Corton-Charlemagne

So, once again Daniel Lifshitz twisted a few arms, got some of us to bring some wines, others to subsidize the cheese and breads and piled up a lot of arcane data into a powerpoint presentation. All to highlight the weirdest hill in Burgundy, where plots and sub-plots combine to create a battleground of Pinot vs. Chardonnay, which the Chardonnay proceeds to win hands down.

First, the obligatory appertif:

Deux Montilles, Bourgogne Blanc, 2009

A ripe wine, yet lean and fossil-mineral-laden at the same time. I like.

Burgundy Wine Collection, 110 NIS.

So we all know red Corton sucks, right? Or, to be more politically correct, it is yet to be ascertained whether the Corton Grand Cru AOC justifies its ranking. Because Corton is so iffy, I have rated the samples tasted based on how close they approach the ideal of a Grand Cru. My ideal, anyway.

Lucien Le Moine, Corton Le Clos du Roi, 1999

Band-aid funk with a surprising sense of poise, coming as it does after the funk. Also some iodine. The palate is beefier, rustic, with roughly hewn tannins. A passable Premier Cru.

It's Le Moine, so it's over-priced.

Michel Picard, Corton, Hospices de Beaune, 2002

A riper nose, almost liquor-ish, all the while retaining its Pinosity, sous bois and salnity. Powerful yet elegant, this doesn't hook, it jabs. An excellent Premier Cru.

Not imported to Israel, about 100 USD

Bonneau du Martray, Corton, 2002

An unrewarding nose: overt band- aid and a roasted fruit profile; and a one dimensional palate. A mediocre Villages, which I carried for Daniel from London.

Not imported to Israel.

Joseph Drouhin, Corton-Bressandes, 2006

The funk is minerally here, gun powdery, a la de Montille. Very good, almost a Grand Cru.

Scottish Company, about 400 NIS?

And now the whites. Corton-Charlemagne is the last affordable white Grand Cru. Except for Chablis, which is played out on a different field.

Vincent Girardin, Corton-Charlemagne, 2004

Honeyed, flinty Bourgogne, with some sesame oil. Dense and multi-layered, yet elegant. Very detailed on both nose and palate - and very, very long.

WineRoute, about 500 NIS.

De Montille, Corton-Charlemagne, 2007

Just how tight is this? Catholic-anal tight? Dunno. Or maybe this just proves Etienne's lack of jism with whites. Furthermore, it's debateable how typical a Corton-Charlemagne this will evolve into. But it still manages to be tasty.

Burgundy Wine Collection, 620 NIS.

Bouchard, Corton-Charlemagne, 2006

Closed too. I don't think it really matters how good it might turn out to be, because right now I just can't gauge it. But recalling how good the 2004 is, I'd assume this will turn out alright, too.

WineRoute, about 600-700 NIS.

Joseph Drouhin, Corton-Charlemagne, 2008

A slightly, just slightly, slutty nose with fossil-boned aromas. The complexity builds up exponentially. An elegant, honeyed palate, culminating in a dense, sweetly spicy finish. This, and the Girardin, were the evening's winners.

Scottish Company, I didn't catch the price.

Bonneau du Martray, Corton-Charlemagne, 1991

The nose presents lovely bottle stink, while the palate is one long, lovely, subtle understatement. Arguably a bit past its best but still one hell of a treat.

Price unknown.

Thanks for this, Chaim. Corton is one of the more vexing, at times infuriating of the Grand Cru designations.

There's time when Corton is wonderful; yet all of us who have had it across the years and producers can recall times when it wasn't. Both the white and the red version.

Here's what I wrote just recently on the Bouchard Pere thread:

Domaine Bouchard Pere Corton Charlemagne Grand Cru 2010
Corton is not a wine for everyone. There are those left unsatisfied with its charms, because it is often so weighty and ponderous and solemn, a wine that can be thuddingly closed when young and brooding when old, a dense, compact and demanding wine that grudgingly allows you to fall in love with it, if you wish. For those people, this is a Corton to try, for it’s a Corton with an engaging nature, showing some brightness and mineral and snappy acidity in its youth, and a liveliness that is sometimes lacking in this weighty wine. Still a big, dense mouthful, mind you, but there’s so much packed into this wine---apple, limestone, lemon, sweet orange, oyster shells, brine (yes, a distinct saltiness laced with mouth-watering lemon zest and minerals), crushed stone, menthol, earth, mushroom and truffles---that it can induce sensory overload in the mouth. Add in the silky weight and the uncharacteristic vitality of this particular version, and you’ve got a Corton to treasure, with limitless development potential.

Of course, it could go in altogether weird directions. it is a Corton, after all.

Early on in my misspent youth I questioned why Corton was a Grand Cru. Of course, in those days I questioned everything, but the Corton question did puzzle me greatly. So I asked the French, and particularly the Burgundians. I got some agreement that, yes, Corton was confounding, and yes, it wasn't the most reliabe of locations, and, yes "one cannot always tell what one is getting when a bottle of Corton is opened" (that one referred specifically to the chardonnay, btw).

So I thought "Hmmm. Seems to me there are a lot of people willing to pardon Corton because they don't know either. On the other hand, most of these people have had a far wider and longer experience than I with the site. So it's still a mystery."

Still is, actually. But I am now more in the camp of excusing Corton. Hell, it may be the ultimate Burgundy in the sense of Burgundy (There's a pony somewhere in all that shit and I'm going to find it! Or more politely the Hundredth Bottle Syndrome.)

Corton is infuriating. But when you get to something like that 2010 Bouchard, or to throw in a red version, there was a Picard Corton from the 80s, an unremarkable vintage but a remarkable wine, then you tend to at least want to forgive and give it another pass.

Since I don't crack open bottles of Corton with any great regularity anymore, and for damn sure don't go out and buy too many of them anymore (exaggeration: none would be a more correct word there, simply because I can't afford them), I get infuriated less so I am more forgivable.

And boy oh boy, when you do find a good one. Hooraw! There is nothing quite like it.