Newsletter No. 29: 23^rd April 2007

Tractor ploughing between the vines at Château Lafite

A Word on 2006 Bordeaux…and those 2005 Rhônes

We spent a week in Bordeaux in early April chewing our way through lofty, occasionally green tannins to which some wine had been appended, or at least that’s what it felt like during the odd downbeat moment during our stay (and by “odd” I mean daily, if not hourly).

What an extraordinary vintage: so many lows – the car crash that was the St Emilion tasting just one example – that coming across a really worthwhile wine was like the proverbial golden ray of sunshine through the storm clouds; the tinkle of laughter in a leper colony.

Much has been said about this vintage, about pricing (tba) and whether the quality is better or worse than some of its predecessors. Of course, 2005 stands alone and offers no comparison at all. But what about 2004, a vintage that I confess that I loved from the word go? 2006 is nowhere near as homogenous. The lows in 2006 are as the Grand Canyon to a roadside ditch in comparison and yet the best wines of ’06 may be bigger, more intense, boast more power. There are certainly some extremely worthy wines, but not enough to balance the crud.

We launched late on the 2005 Rhône vintage, but it is being well taken up. Unlike the 2006 vintage in Bordeaux, here we have a harvest of which the local vignerons can be proud. Jancis states, “I was excited to see how good the 2005 Northern Rhône wines are…The Rhône Valley is certainly as full of energy as any wine region in France.” Parker comments, “…consumers will have plenty of choices to salivate over when the 2005 Southern Rhônes hit retailers shelves.”

No one who has any interest in shiraz (syrah) or the GSM (Grenache, Syrah, Mourvèrdre) blends of the south should miss this vintage, so do let me know if you would like specific recommendations.

» Click here for the 2005 Rhône offer 

The chapel on the Hill of Hermitage and the view beyond

New Drinking Wine: First Shipment of 2005 White Burgundy

Many of you know of and have bought Chassagne-Montrachets from one of our favourite white wine producers of Burgundy: Guy Amiot. Thierry Amiot, wine maker, crafts clean and clear-voiced lovelies from some seriously decrepit old vines and, most excitingly, keeps his prices very sensible. The estate itself has its foundations in the edge of the noble Caillerets vineyard, of which the domaine owns a decent chunk.

When I visited in December of last year I was, of course, searching for age-worthy wines for Bowes Wine clients’ cellars. However, the first sample to be poured out was the Aligoté. Usually when this occurs, one feels obliged to sip and spit and nod and smile vaguely as if one has possibly even quite enjoyed the experience (Aligoté tends to be viewed as the sort of bastard, back stairs, white variety in Burgundy and for quite good reason; there are many very earthy and thin examples out there, which is precisely the reason why Cardinal Kir decided, all those years ago, that the best thing to do with Aligoté was add a splash of crème de cassis, thereby creating the world’s first alcopop).

What we have here is an altogether different animal. For one thing the vineyard was planted in 1935, so these vines are hoary old things quite capable of producing highly concentrated fruit. Given such fruit to a man like Thierry and voilà, one arrives at a very suitable wine for Bowes Wine’s drinking wine list. Here’s what I said at the time:

This lacks the Aligoté earthiness and instead one is presented with delightful aromas of pears and nuts – almonds - some of which are sugared. This is clean as a whistle, which isn’t to say that it’s lacking at all in character. On the contrary, this is full of apple, lemon and pear fruit, laced with nuts and a chalky minerality. Quite fresh enough, although not too crisp to obviate immediate consumption. This is proper white burgundy and very delicious.

Okay, so that wasn’t entirely written in Burgundy. We’ve just removed a case from Octavian for our own home entertainment and I have a glass in front of me on the desk. It’s 6pm somewhere in the world and anyway, I wasn’t drinking, I was tasting.

Price of this stunner? A mere £9 per bottle inc. VAT. Order any three cases from our drinking list and delivery is free to a UK mainland address.

» Click here for our list of drinking wines

Victoria and Joseph at Château Lafite

Imminent Far East Trip

I am wending my way back to Asia soon for my spring visit. I’ll be flying to Hong Kong on 5^th May and staying there until 17^th, when I travel to Singapore for 6 days or so. Anyone and everyone would be welcome to request a time/date for a meeting. I am happy to talk on subjects ranging from 2006 Bordeaux to the prospects for the salmon fishing season on the spate rivers of Sutherland.

Kowloon from Hong Kong Island

Wine of the Week

I am happy to report that I am thoroughly spoiled for choice on this one, the drawback being that I failed to take tasting notes for most of the good stuff I have consumed of late. In any event, here’s a small taster of what the Bowes palate has been subjected to over the last few weeks:

1983 Château Pichon-Lalande, Pauillac

1986 Château Haut-Brion, Pessac-Léognan

1994 Château Langoa-Barton, St Julien

1998 Masseto, Ornellaia, Tuscany

1993 and 2001 Corton-Charlemagne, Bonneau de Martray

2000 Montrachet, Henri Boillot

1988 Château Grand-Puy-Lacoste from magnum

1985 Château Léoville-Lascases, St Julien

2001 Château Latour-à-Pomerol, Pomerol

1962 Château Guiraud, Sauternes

1966 Coonawarra Cabernet, Wynn’s from magnum

I will conclude my showing off with a tasting note of possible the oddest best wine I have drunk recently:

1993 Roussanne Vieilles Vignes, Château de Beaucastel

Extraordinary colour: a deep honey/amber starts the nerves jangling: what if it’s OTT?

In the glass, this behaved as old wines sometimes do: changing and evolving with air, so that each time one went back to it, one found something new. Nuts, yes. Honey and toast. Roast chicken skin. Touch of liquorice, maybe aniseed. And that richness in the mouth. Still fresh, but so very mature, so very, very complex. The fruit has become a marmalade of oranges and nuts and uncountable other flavours.

The wine slid down; the smiles broadened. When the last sip was gone, the room heaved a communal sigh, not wanting more, just satiated by sensory plenitude.

It wasn’t, I am overjoyed to say, my last bottle.