Charvin Châteauneuf-du-Pape 2003
82% Grenache, 8% Syrah, 5% Mourvèdre, 5% Vaccarèse. I have not always considered myself a Châteauneuf-du-Pape fan (liked the better wines, of course), but in many ways it has become (not just remained) a source of something I like: highly concentrated expression of terroir that need not be overbearing in alcohol, intensely flavourful, in a best-case scenario even finesseful and Burgundian, with no oak masking the, in a few cases even single grape variety (or close) – food-friendly, ageworthy, and as well or better priced wines than most other wines I, my family and friends favour from other appellations. Asked what I like best, I would still have to say “anything that is good”, and on second thought, would still consider myself primarily a fan of Burgundy, Piedmont and the Northern Rhône when it comes to dry red wine, perhaps inevitably followed by Bordeaux. It actually took a comment from a reader of my notes for me to realize what I experienced and wrote about, the succession of great vintages in the late nineties and since, along with the rise of the appellation from relative neglect and so many more domaines making great wine than ever before, to all of which we owe a wealth of great wines far surpassing, not necessarily in quality, but certainly number, anything I grew up with (my experience with the wines of Châteauneuf-du-Pape really only reaches back to 1978, still a sentimental favourite vintage of mine, same as in Burgundy and Piedmont), that yes, I might consider myself a fan of the region (been there only a couple of times in my adult life) and its wines. Whew! Something else to make room for in my wine-buying budget...
At a trade tasting in Lucerne a few weeks ago, where Rainer and I could taste the 2004s and 2005s, I also had the opportunity to talk to a representative from the winery, and learnt that Charvin’s style, purity, kirsch top notes and in particular, the seemingly always judicious proportion and integration of alcohol, is based on two factors: parcels offering a comparatively cool microclimate and yields that are not extremely low by Châteauneuf standards. I was told so when I asked, more or less bluntly, if the fact that one finds less and less of the highly concentrated but comparatively lower-alcohol wines of the past may in part have to do with the progressing climate change, apart from a tendency to make increasingly alcoholic “super” cuvées. “Mais, il a toujours fait chaud en Châteauneuf-du-Pape!” (= It has always been hot in Châteauneuf-du-Pape) is what I was told, but also, that harvest takes place between three to four weeks earlier than it used to (mind you, the kind lady kept shaking her head at this in apparent dismay, and agreed it may have more than a little to do with risk aversion). As to the alcohol bombs she added the Charvins do not like “ce style-là” (= that style) either, preferring wines that are elegant and “utile” (= useful), that is, food-friendly and – not too expensive! She went on explaining that at Charvin, the whole production is usually sold out within three weeks, so that for the rest of the year they have nothing to sell to prospective customers. I could not help thinking the wines have been getting a bit lighter in the last few years (of course the 2002 is a rare success in that abysmal vintage) – which is why I decided I must open a bottle of the 2003 soon.
After all this, it may come as a surprise I am really half disappointed with the relative lightness of recent vintages here (note my Charvin-loving friends Dani and Rainer are with me on this), and that includes the 2003. The 2002 was really a rare success in that abysmal vintage, but neither the 2003, 2004 nor 2005 truly mark a return to the form of old here – that is, if I am allowed to thus call, in particular, the era spanning from 1998 to 2001. The 2003 shows a lightly purple ruby of medium-plus depth and black reflections. It somehow manages to smell bitter, which is rare even in this vintage of predominantly bitterly tannic wines (not a problem as far as those wines are concerned that offer the fruit density or necessary baby fat that will allow them to age their tannin off, that is, provided those are free from greenishness!). Soft Kirsch top aroma to grey pepper, tight garrigue (roasted Provençal herbs, in this case with an emphasis on sage) and frozen raspberry. Cherry jam and prune peel of above-medium concentration on the palate (somewhere between the 2004’s and the 2005’s, closer to the latter unless my memory fails me), very peppery and rather bitter, if ultimately unproblematic tannin. As Dani said in its defense (having had it several before, he is not too happy with the development chez Charvin either), all this needs is some bottle age and not too ambitious expectations from its owner. The real problem, of course, is not the slightly lesser concentration per se, but the lack of complexity, depth and finesse that seems to come with it, same as in the 2004 and 2005. From the covered decanter 24 hours later it was showing more cherry jam, a red-fruitier, more Burgundian if not Rayas-like character, with a more flamboyant Kirsch top note. Nice cool fruit, a bit sweeter and perhaps a fraction longer, but ultimately I have to agree with Rainer that it lacks mid-palate intensity and finishes a bit short, thus is no match for the exceptional 1998, 2000 and 2001 trio here. He actually quipped that whereas other producers are marking up, others cut back on the quality that is going into the bottle. I continue to love the supremely food-friendly and oak-free style here, but am saddened recent vintages no longer knock one's socks off for the money. Is Charvin committing himself not only to offering attractively priced old-vine Grenache, but increasingly of an “elegance” in the double sense propagated in British wine criticism? Of course, what I am secretly most concerned with is the question (to pick up where I left off above) if producers in Châteauneuf-du-Pape are increasingly forcing upon us fine wine lovers the seemingly (!) unavoidable choice between lighter examples of modest attraction on the one hand, and small quantities of rare and expensive super cuvées on the other hand, of which too many are going to emulate the same overblown and uselessly alcoholic bombast-made-to-win-blind-tastings soon to be found anywhere from here to Mars. Laurent Charvin, of course, whom I have yet to meet in person, figures on my good guys list as far as stylistic preferences go (note also they were not even bottling their own before 1990, as far as the ensuing wet dream is concerned), but how I wish I owned a horizontal of e.g. 1978s to which I could invite favourite producers to remind them there used to be and thus still should be room for something in between. I would sure hate to see disappear what I only recently developed a soft spot for. Rating: 90+?
In all fairness one might want to cite evidence that the prospects cannot possibly be so bleak. One the one hand, those rare and costly super cuvées aren’t necessarily freaky wines at all: a wine like Beaucastel’s 1998 Hommage à Jacques Perrin seems impossible to fault and is as super-concentrated as it gets, yet contains no more than 14.2% alcohol (thus indirectly proves what I said before, that it apparently is still possible to make such wines, but also, that our perception of what high alcohol means has radically changed – such an alcohol content was still considered quite extraordinary when I first started learning about wine). On the other hand, there still seem to be those in-between wines I alluded to above, wines that are not only pleasurable to drink but will also satisfy those who, like myself, believe that wine’s more than a beverage, about hedonism, thus meant to be should be a drug, in other words, it should be capable of commanding one’s attention on both an emotional and intellectual level. Châteauneuf-du-Pape as serious and interesting as that, but containing moderate levels of alcohol, continues to exist, though I cannot help noticing that its fans, like my friends, keep enumerating examples to prove this point, they rarely refer to producers we didn’t already know years ago (and none of which are true bargains anymore). The problem, as seems to be the case in other wine-growing regions, seem to be those producers that are still looking for their share of the limelight. Châteauneuf-du-Pape seems anything but a fledgling region, but try and think back just one decade, two if you can, and you may understand this seemingly sophisticated worry of mine.
Tommaso Bussola Amarone della Valpolicella BG 2002
Thanks to Dani, our resident Amarone fan. Quite full, almost opaque purple-garnet-red that deepened (!) with airing. Eucalyptus, faintly soapy raisins and currants, lightly sweet and rather unprecise. Milk-chocolatey tannin. Reminiscent of the 1994 in its potential soapiness. Fairly hot with a spiky acid/alcohol combination at 16%, though in great part due to a lack of stuffing or density (other, better Amarones manage to integrate as much alcohol and more). Increasingly heavy-handed and sullen with airing, on both nose and palate. Interestingly, no one at the table thought this very typical of Amarone. 24 hours later more harmonious on the nose, sweeter on the palate, although with an underlying touch of greenishness. A bit more precise, but also a tad bitter. Some crystallised herbs. Ultimately not too complex wine. Rating: 87+?
Azienda Agricola Brigaldara Amarone della Valpolicella Case Vecie 1999
Glossy-plummy ruby-red, watery red at the rim. Round, ripe, balanced, an undeniable success for the vintage, with dense, smooth fruit, quite full body, plummy with licorice and a touch of green pepper, long on the finish. Nicely thick and fat wine. Some new oak here. Maybe a touch lactic. 24 hours later, so sweet and smooth with candied raisiny blackcurrant, tinged with vanilla oak and milk chocolate, yet floral and fresh, this is where Amarone meets Australian Shiraz. A modern style of Amarone, no doubt, but what a rare QPR! Seriously, stylistic considerations (of course I prefer Quintarelli) become irrelevant when high-grade budget Amarone is all but extinct. The 2002 Bussola, at twice the price, probably suffers from having been made in a yet less successful vintage (cannot say I have tasted all that many examples in either vintage, though, certainly none better than the 1999 Dal Forno, which I would still not refer to as an unqualified success). The Brigaldara, in complete contrast, tastes as if it were from a superior vintage, just lacks a little something in terms of depth, unfair if not ridiculous to complain about in this price category. Rating: 91
Auguste Clape Cornas 2003
Thanks to Rainer, to whom I owe most of my experience with young and mature examples of Auguste Clape Cornas. Impenetrably opaque ruby-purple, minor ruby-red at the rim. Concentrated, huge in fact, smooth yet faintly bitter, prettily bitter chocolatey as Rainer said, I guessed 2003 Chapoutier “something” blind (with airing, it seemed more Chave-like). Not rustic at all for a young Cornas, and yet, there is nothing New Worldish about this. Dark chocolate and dark berries. Fantastic wine, perfectly balanced despite little or no acidity and huge tannins. Squeaky clean yet still, as Rainer insists, quite traditional Cornas, with spectacular Provençal herbs and dark fruit purity, great freshness and lovely terroir expression. Very full-bodied, stood up to the Amarones with ease, yet not at all over the top. Persistent on the balanced finish, and more than just hinting at quite considerable subtlety and finesse for this bottling. As Rainer noted, more compact than Rostaing’s La Landonne. With yet greater concentration and nobler irony minerality, one could have mistaken it for Chapoutier’s Le Pavillon. Attractive lemony touch to the fresh sage-flavoured tannin. Did not stop getting sweeter in the decanter. 24 hours later, its resistance to oxidation was most notable, this had closed up with airing yet also showed sweeter floral top notes, but also flintstone and iron. Not a soft wine at all, but an empty glass left behind bewitching fig sweetness. More structured to age than the successful 1999 and truly outstanding 2001. My wine of the weekend, even if I must admit for stylistic reasons also. Note this is the first Cornas ever that my Burgundy-addicted mother, who really only likes Chave Hermitage when it comes to Northern Rhône Syrah, encouraged me to buy. Not a cheap wine at roughly 50 dollars, but still an attractive QPR when put into perspective: I would currently rank it fourth among the 2003 Northern Rhône Syrahs I have tasted (my wine of the vintage, by far, remaining the Chave), smack between Rostaing’s Côte Blonde and La Landonne (and perhaps closer to the former in quality, though not similarity). Rainer, who still complains he missed buying some 1999 Jamet in time, announced he has no intention of making the same mistake this time round. Rating: 93+?
Egon Müller Riesling Spätlese #16 VdP-Auction Wiltinger Braune Kupp 1999
Thanks to Rainer, who had ordered this from a restaurant wine list the day before, and brought along the remainder of the bottle (a couple of glasses’ worth) in part because he wondered if it may have been slightly misstored. I would say so. Barely medium yellow green. Rather rubbery on the nose, some botrytis and, for an Egon Müller, almost Auslese-like sweetness and viscosity, very minerally, slightly cabbage-tainted sweet and blossomy apple, quite long, a bit medinal on the aftertaste. Medium-low acidity that does not taste fully fresh. I would not be surprised if it had seen a little too much light in its life, rather than been stored too warmly. But definitely rather closed at this stage anyhow, that is, unless ordered from a restaurant wine list, I would not recommend pulling corks now. Rating: N/R
Feiler-Artinger Ruster Ausbruch Pinot Cuvée 1995
50% Pinot Blanc, 50% Pinot Gris, must had 22.2% potential sugar, wine has 174 g/l residual sugar and 12.2% alcohol at 11.5 g/l acidity. Fermented in steel tank, aged 18 months in oak, 50% of which new. Quite deep orange-gold. Brown bread botrytis, banana and dried apricot, hugely viscous, tender lightly nut finesse note, lively apricoty acidity with a minor spikiness, great body, ideal combination of structure and freshness in this legendary Neusiedlersee late harvest vintage. Like a virtual cross between a 6P Tokaj and a high-end Alsatian Pinot Gris VT, if not SGN, this could actually make one believe sweet wines from this region have real depth thanks to terroir (like them or not, these wines are virtually devoid of soil notes, in particular, minerality), too, beyond their undeniable complexity. Less surface tannin than a Tokaj, Rainer notes, who thought it fascinating how heavy the glass started to feel when I poured him some. More emphasis on dried apricot with airing. Very slight touch of volatile acidity here, giving additional lift to the aromas? Entering my note into my databank today, I notice my numerical rating, even though those apparently lack any basis for consistency, is exactly the same as when I last had this seven and ten years ago. Be that as it may, Rainer simply loved this, adding he had never had the patience to sift through so many Neusiedlersee stickies until he would, like me, have unearthed ones in this category, let alone that of the (depending where you are from, legendary or insiders' tip) Ausbruch Essenz from the same vintage. Really a best buy at roughly 25 dollars per half bottle. Rating: 93
Bernard Burgaud Côte-Rôtie 1998
Opened my last bottle of this 25 dollar Côte-Rôtie with dinner although I suspected it would still be young, after Rainer had mentioned he had tasted the 2001 (which he thought rather bretty, too). Pruney ruby, opaque almost to the rim, strong black reflections. Poo-poo diaper is what Rainer immediately exclaimed, and it is indeed likely that Australian tasters would be appalled by a wine like this. Aromas of gunpowder, sewage with a touch of animal fur, cherry and strawberry jam, along with a nice violet top note. Firm tannins, some sweetness to the – dare I call it thus? – fruit. Acidity is a bit metallic onion-like, the aftertaste a bit rhubarb-flavoured. Quite good concentration for a Burgaud. Not too evolved since release, disregarding the more prominent than ever sewage notes. A bit sweeter and rounder with an hour’s airing, including a suggestion of those canned tomatoes reminiscent of Jaboulet’s La Chapelle, undeniably tasty (tasting better than it smells for sure), not yet completely out of its closed phase. Not free from faults (quite apart from the brett, it was the greenishness of the aftertaste I was least happy with). But then, just 20% new Alliers oak, the aspect I liked most about it: nothing between us and all the dirt, so to speak. My parents simply loved this, and, especially since it is so much more mature, even preferred it to the 2003 Clape. Rainer was equally pleased with it as I was, noting it should really have been more sweetly ripe as well as, more importantly, more evenly or thoroughly ripe as far as its acid backbone is concerned. There may still be a little room for improvement in bottle, though. Rating: 88+?
Greetings from Switzerland, David.
