WTN: Tuesday night out with Oliver, Christian and Remo

Went for dinner at a restaurant in the adjacent county and spent a great evening there. Oliver and I shared a delicious saddle of venison (open season for hunting!), Christian and Remo decided to play it safe and order Châteaubriand. All the wines were ordered from the wine list and impeccably stored. As Oliver quipped the following day: "in David's terms, the wines were all nice/fair enough" ;^)

Knoll Riesling Smaragd Ried Loibenberg 2005
I could hardly believe how much better this showed last night than back in April, when I tasted this with our friend Márta Wille-Baumkauff at a trade tasting in Bad Ragaz. My best guess is that the (already bottled, of course) samples poured there had travelled shortly before, as they tasted comparatively disjointed and alcoholic, and low on fruit. Bright, lightly golden-green yellow. Citrusy herbs with a nice little bitter note (still not a “fruity” wine, but far from bland), soft Wachau pepper and minerality, nice body and length. Tasty, especially considering this is “merely” the Loibenberg (if you have access to either of the Vinothekfüllung bottlings, by all means, get some – if anything, the Grüner Veltliner is even better in this vintage!). Nicely racy and firm, still hard to tell if bottle age will pay off – the Loibenberg terroir making for somewhat less profound wines than Knoll’s finest. Rating: 90(+?)

Château Pichon Longueville Comtesse de Lalande Pauillac 2000
The consensus favourite of the evening, even if I am not sure if for the right reasons with everyone present. It is true the higher Merlot content seems to make this more approachable, plus the higher than average Petit Verdot content integrates so well now, all it does is give the 2000 additional complexity and individuality. Even so, Oliver and I agreed that this should be thought of at least as partially closed, with the Merlot currently dominating for this very reason. The short version would be that the 2000 has slightly greater mid-palate density and more complex (aromatic and flavourful), deep and finesseful tannin (our favourite characteristic of the best, if not most 2000s we have tasted) than the 1995 of which it is currently perhaps most reminiscent (apart from the Petit Verdot influence that makes the 2000 special), and that it may be the finest Pichon-Lalande since the great 1982 (to me one of the top wines of that vintage). A blend of 50% Cabernet Sauvignon, 34% Merlot, 10% Petit Verdot (from vines planted in 1932) and 6% Cabernet Franc. Deep, nearly opaque ruby-purple, almost to the rim. The combined mouth-filling richness of sweetly opulent Merlot (noble cigar and pipe tobacco!) and ripely rich Cabernet Sauvignon (creamy-smooth and syrupy/coulis-like, yet fresh, lively and precise blackcurrant and mixed berries), plus the finesseful, deep, finely-grained, palate-drenching tannin quality of the vintage. Lead pencil, a perfectly integrated, tiny hung pheasant note from the Petit Verdot, and already well-integrated vanilla oak. Deceptively yummy, this wine’s opulence is a danger to itself (provoking infanticide, that is). I know Baron fans will say Lalande is somewhat hit and miss from vintage to vintage, but between the more artificial-tasting, virtually equalizing “made” style of Baron and the crunchy-opulent, more natural-tasting Lalande, there is really no choice for me – all one has to do is pick the right vintages, which given the price level for the forty to fifty most sought-after Châteaux, prospective Bordeaux customers need to bear in mind anyhow. What I find stylistically most remarkable about Pichon-Lalande is that it is one of those rare wines that will bring together finesse lovers and terroirists (like myself) and admirers of modern fruit bombs (I am not mentioning names) – I have in fact rarely met anyone from either faction who does not like Pichon-Lalande, and that includes efforts from less opulent and Merlot-dominated vintages like 1994 (more of a Pauillac classic in this regard), or the occasional standout from a so-called “off” vintage like 1991. In a vintage like 2000, how could anyone not like it? Again, as a reminder to those who have not re-tasted it since release, the Petit Verdot is not sticking out like a sore thumb anymore, so the the 2000 Pichon-Lalande most emphatically does not deserve its “weird” sticker. Rating: 96

Château Pichon Longueville Baron Pauillac 2000
Perhaps my favourite vintage of Pichon-Baron, as it shows at least some finesse (less open-heartedly so now than a couple of years ago, naturally), somewhat more attractively flavoured tannin, not least because it is less dominated by toasty oak than the more massive and slightly more powerful 1990 (my experience with Pichon-Baron only goes back to the eighties). A fraction blacker though not denser garnet-ruby-purple. Cinnamon, not too noble tobacco and fruit, cedar- and coconut-scented oak. More superficial, bitter chocolatey blackcurrant (versus the Pichon-Lalande’s, Merlot-driven fresh, soft milk chocolate note – if any), more dominated by Cabernet Sauvignon of course, but with less natural-tasting vinosity and depth. A bit higher-acid (though no more precise or racy) than the Pichon-Lalande, similarly tannic from a quantitative perspective, qualitatively of course, the tannin is more oak-driven and superficially plain, even if there is greater potential for complexity and finesse in this regard than in any other vintage of Pichon-Baron I know. With airing, the tobacco top note became a fraction nobler, the oak notes greener. Faint lead pencil. Whereas the Pichon-Lalande currently hides much of its minerality under thick layers of fruit, it seems one would have to apply a different wine-making style to be able to tell if Pichon-Baron’s terroir offers any (although soon after release, I thought the 2000 was at least hinting at some). Needless to say, the direct comparison makes this sound worse than it is – fans of this Château should probably disregard my stylistic issues, and hurry and get some of the highly successful 2000, if they have not already (or grow up and insist on wine that more truthfully speaks of the grape and soil it is made from ;^)
Mind you, the following is not at all intended to be an ironical snide remark (I have had my share of offensively overripe, modern and oaky Bordeaux this year): if it were not already so shut down and thus a pity, the 2000 Pichon-Baron would make the perfect “pirate” in a blind tasting of Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignons (and I mean in a lineup of good ones, where it should cause a maximum of confusion). Rating: 92+

Château Margaux 1995
Deep ruby-black, opaque almost to the rim. Started out rather closed, and never opened up fully, as could be expected, but it seems to be evolving well. More high-acid then the two 2000s, but no more tannic (the 1995 Margaux’s polyphenol readings were notoriously high also). What I find more important (being a quality- versus quantity-minded wine lover) is that the acids seem a fraction less thoroughly ripe than I would like to see (not the same as if they were merely not too evenly ripe – that will sometimes make a wine more interesting at the early stage of its plateau of maturity). Extremely noble and well-integrated coconut oak spice (noticeably less oaky than the 2000 Pichon-Baron, probably the least oaky of the three reds). Violety, deep blackcurrant, blueberry and damson plum. The most subtlety and finesse to the fruit, which grew sweeter and fuller-tasting with airing (in contrast to the tannin, which became drier), but of course is no match for the 2000 Pichon-Lalande’s opulence. Later faint lead pencil, a mintier licorice stick freshness than the two 2000s, soft grey pepper, fair enough minerality. Ironically the 1995 Margaux tastes a bit as if from a cool vintage, not unattractively so – it has fine vinosity and just demands more attention to detail. It is nicely balanced and structured to keep. Good medium length, no less, but no more. All in all a very solid vintage for Margaux, though not one of the handful most precious. Even so, I was mildly surprised to hear that Christian did not even like this one at all. I say “mildly” because Château Margaux has always struck me as something of an oddity among the world’s so-called great(est) wines, and the Bordeaux 1er Crus in particular: it tends to have majority appeal in blind tastings even though (I am tempted to say: because!) its character is difficult to grasp or put in words – indeed, everyone at the table agreed they would not be able to recognize the 1995 if it were served to them blind anytime soon. In fact, those who think recognisability is a factor may argue Margaux does not have much character or personality at all, a line of reasoning that is not entirely alien to me, although I prefer to it as a kind of “über-individual claret” – it might as well be British ;^) Having said that, I am not one to deny quality, and the 1995 is once again, quite simply, very well-made, quite stylish and no doubt ageworthy young claret. Rating: 93+

Greetings from Switzerland, David.
_________________

„J'ai gâché vingt ans de mes plus belles années au billard. Si c'était à refaire, je recommencerais.“ – Roger Conti

[David M. Bueker]

I noticed the "enthusiastic" discussion over on Therapy surrounding the meits (or lack thereof) of Baron, and though it better to say over here than over there (and risk being drawn, quartered, burned at the stake and then beheaded) that I actually am a fan of Pichon Baron. Indeed it tends to the more massive in ripe years, and I have never had a bottle of "off vintage" (now there's an abused descriptor) Baron that gave me any more than minimal pleasure, but I do find it to have a mineral base aa well as a richness that makes it a great choice for me when I (sometimes) want a bigger Cabernet wine without venturing into cult-Cab or Aussie land.

The 2000 Baron was the highlight of a dinner almost exactly 4 years ago shortly after its release. Almost immediately thereafter it shut down hard, and I will wait until at least 2015 to open another bottle.

It was, needless to say, most finesseful and minerally right after release, as I've said elsewhere/before. I also remember saying in an old TN that this would be the vintage of Pichon-Baron of which I would at all care to own a few bottles, not least because there is hope the oak toast isn't going to take the upper hand as in many earlier vintages.

What strikes me, from a stylistic perspective, as impossible to understand, is why some of the wines I write TNs about are thought of or attacked (elsewhere rather than here) as "New Worldish" and not others. To me the term has little or nothing to do with the fact that in European wine growing regions, there have always been cooler and riper vintages, including heat and drought years. I use the term for a kind of winemaking whose purpose it is to make an overtly but to me superficially pleasing product, often with the side effect of an equalising (across the years/vintages) standard and/or style. More like perfume, so to speak, where someone's making an effort to get the same thing into the bottle over and over again, and not one that expresses - apart from grape variety/-ies and soil - the difficulties and/or straightforwardness of the vintage. The kind of winemaking, as I sometimes say sarcastically (although/because I mean it!), that bespeaks the risk aversion of a joint stock corporation.

Fact is, in Europe, when people speak of the "New Worldishness" of Bordeaux (or Bolgheri, Supertuscans etc.), they're not referring to an apparent climate change, but to what happened after there was a Napa Valley wine boom in the eighties to early nineties, that is, a time when people who used to buy Bordeaux (and other Old World wines) looked elsewhere for a while. What then happened is that wine-growing regions this side of the Atlantic started adopting this "new" style. That this style was in fact originally created in Bordeaux is not something people ever seem to think of when they attack e.g. Napa Valley wines for being "New Worldish". It's not a geographical term, nor meant to attack any continent or wine-growing region in particular.

It seems like a paradox: when people in Europe accuse e.g. a Bordeaux (or Northern Rhône Syrah) of being "New Worldish", they mean it seems to be trying to beat e.g. Napa Valley (or Barossa etc.) at its own game, even though the style they're attacking was originally brought/taken overseas to create wines to beat Bordeaux (or Hermitage etc.) at its own game.

Greetings from Switzerland, David.
_________________

„J'ai gâché vingt ans de mes plus belles années au billard. Si c'était à refaire, je recommencerais.“ – Roger Conti

[David M. Bueker]

I fully agree with you that there is a double standard. Most of the folks who attack old world wines for being ripe (even in hot years like 2003 when there is really no alternative) then turn around and recommend that new world wineries make wines as if they are in a cool climate.

I actually chalk most of it up to a new millenium feeling of entitlement - if the winery isn't making wine in a style "I" like then they are wrong and should be castigated for their evil ways.