Sitting here editing last weekend’s tasting notes, listening to Alfred Brendel’s 1976 live recording of Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations.
With dinner on Saturday, with Rainer:
Van Volxem Riesling Alte Reben #07 Wiltinger Gottesfuss 2003
Actually, it still says “Gottesfuß” on the label (the old sharp “s”). From old small berry clones, 120 years of age, 100% ungrafted vines. Still holds some CO2. Exotic pear and apple, remarkably fresh and lively, very complex pit fruit and slate minerality, finesse notes of ethereal orange blossom and herbs. In contrast to most Erste Gewächse, Rainer notes, this puts an emphasis on fruit over alcohol. Hugely ripe on the nose, portraying a whiff of egg soufflé, really more like a (botrytis-free!) late harvest sweet wine than on that is barely off-dry. Smooth, lightly oily mouthfeel. Low but beautifully flavourful acidity. Very, very long, rather finesseful for the year. Growing fresher with airing instead of flabbier, a great success for a 2003. More yellow fruit and (not quite aged Robert Weil-like) saffron, honey and clove, great subtlety and minerality of almost Egon Müller-like noblesse by the following day, by which time much of the 2003 exotism had waned, but also some of the cut and grip this exhibited at release. Another day later, it seemed fraction lighter, if hardly less pretty.
This is a prime example of what German wine critic Marcus Hofschuster and I discussed a month ago: ageworthiness does not always have to be a factor determining one’s admiration for a wine. I still, and seriously, doubt these wines improve (here in both the sense “keep” and “taste better mature than young”) in bottle, and so does Rainer, who brought the new Van Volxems to my attention. At the same time, I would not be ready to bet one dime against it. Who cares when what is in the glass is seemingly a liquified miracle of Mother Nature’s? I actually bought some extra bottles just to see what is going to happen to them. Rating: 95-/94?
Gaja Langhe Sperss 1997
Thanks to Rainer. Goodness gracious! The more often I get to taste this, the more obvious it becomes I underrated it – and I already loved it at release! How anyone could have made wine of such freshness and potential harmony in this vintage remains a mystery. Deep garnet-ruby-black, virtually opaque at the center even in the Riedel’s Burgundy Sommelier fish bowl. Strong white Alba truffle on the nose, plus aromas of fennel seed, minerals, Orange Pecoe black tea, dried rose petal and suede. On the palate truffle, huge and surprisingly (for the bottling) deep minerality, racy and refreshing black cherry and half-dried blood orange, some tomato concentrate. It is only on the minerally finish that some marzipan, cocoa dust and merely faintly tarry oak surfaces, where it still barely stands a chance against finely grained smoked black tea tannin, American blueberry and fennel seed. Beautifully palate-cleansing “Nebbiolo” (the 6% Barbera can in all likelihood only be detected by those who know it is there, must say the 1997 is almost truer to type Barolo than earlier vintages). Starting to close down again with too much airing, after maybe six hours plus. Extremely well-balanced wine that Rainer noted is the finest 1997 dry red he has so far tasted from anywhere on the planet, and that in hindsight he feels stupid not to have bought some at release price (I cannot blame him, youthful Gaja can seem so superficially modernistic at that stage). Shockingly enjoyable, a magnum between the two of us would not have been too much, despite the for a 1997 unusual youthfulness (this could be mistaken for a 2001 at present). The potential harmony here is virtually assured to exceed that of the monumental, take-no-prisoners 1996. Both deserve years if not decades of bottle age, but the 1997 is the one that allows a more pleasurable peek at its future. Rating: 96+/97(+?)
With lunch on Sunday, with Rainer and Remo:
Bruno Giacosa Barolo Riserva Le Rocche del Falletto di Serralunga d'Alba 2000
Thanks to Remo. #3630 of 10’600 standard size bottles, 1500 magnums and 200 double magnums. From a parcel within the Falletto vineyard (the same parcel, by the way, the 1996 Riserva stems from – Giacosa only started labelling the difference with the 1997 vintage). Full ruby-red, black hue. Sweet Grenache-like grenadine syrup, marzipan-scented, nutty oak, white Alba truffle and cherry, moss. As Rainer said, were it not for the minor tar, truffle and marzipan fruit/oak combination, one might think this is Burgundy on the nose. Lovely sweet-and-dry, palate-cleansing of fine precision. Low acidity, nicely dry and mouthwatering tannin, wholly free from bitterness (especially in a 2000). Gingery tannin. Quite long but not the endless finish of some of the greatest wine from this source. Not the concentration of the 1997 Sorì Tildìn, signifcantly more evolved, at this early stage more food-friendly and easier to enjoy on a hot summer day. Lightly viscous, longer with airing. Remo loved this, but in comparison to the 1997 ST found it “lighter”. Rainer and I agree this is on almost the same level of quality as the 1996 Riserva Asili, whose tannin quality we prefer, but below that of the 2001 Riserva Rabajà, let alone the stuff-of-legends 1996 Riserva Falletto, or some great Giacosas of the past, such as the 1982 Riserva Collina Rionda or 1978 Riserva Santo Stefano. There has been some stylistic change towards the modern here since the early nineties, but 2000 is also an unusually approachable vintage that has merely had the misfortune to be hyped out of proportion by one (to my knowledge still only one) wine critic. This is rather an exceptionally lovely 2000. Rating: 94+?
Gaja Langhe Sorì Tildìn 1997
Deep garnet-ruby-black, virtually opaque at the center, perhaps a fraction lighter than the colour of the Sperss the night before. The greater concentration, intensity and fuller body compared to Giacosa’s 2000 Rocche already shows on the nose. Liqueur-like cherry truffles, licorice stick and quite soft marzipan oak (a little oakier than the Rocche, less so than expected). A more Burgundian wine with greater fruit subtlety than the Sperss, but not as minerally. Sweet chestnut with airing, growing in sweetness, more opulent and meatier though not necessarily bigger than the Sperss. Full body, good alcohol integration, even on a hot summer day like this (we had both bottles lightly chilled, and leisurely observed how each new pour warmed up in the big fish bowl Burgundy Riedels). Extremely mouth-watering, firm and juicy wine without excess power or fat, but of great persistence and length. Palate-staining yet melting tannin, significantly more complex, deep and finesseful than that of the Rocche (a respective function of the two vintages, it is no secret I have a soft spot for Giacosa). Tempting to think that lovely little acidity is entirely due to the percentage of Barbera, but note the wines have not become less true to type. Fattening up with airing, this holds plenty of reserve fruit and sweetness for a long development in bottle. No use airing this for too long, or else its youthfulness strikes back and the wine might close up on you, as the Sperss did on Rainer and me the night before. Structured to age for decades, the potential sweetness of the fruit here, when more of the finely grained tannin subsides, is – as Rainer put it – almost scary. Even in view of a track record barely a handful of wine producers anywhere in the world can match, 1997 may be the greatest vintage Gaja has yet made. While I would not go so far as to claim the 1997 ST is bigger, let alone more monumental than its 1990 counterpart, Gaja’s 1997 crus more clearly than ever express their individual terroirs (in this of all vintages!), show greater finesse and, compared to other vintages at this early stage, oak integration. My friends and I have successfully duped people into believing these are traditionally-made Nebbiolos serving 1982s or 1985s, vintages of which long-time Gaja fans have always said they are a significant improvement over earlier ones in terms of “oak management”, and I am not yet sure when exactly in the mid-nineties it happened, but these 1997s seem another step up in this, possibly every regard. Rating: 97+?
With dinner on Sunday, with Albino, Andrea and Rainer:
Ridge Monte Bello 1996
An absolutely pristine bottle thanks to Rainer. A blend of 80% Cabernet Sauvignon, 11% Merlot, 9% Petit Verdot. 13.2% alcohol. Opaque purple-black, ruby-red at the rim. A whiff of sweet hung pheasant from the Petit Verdot, an emphasis on jammy sweaty blackcurrant, milk chocolate superripeness (and partial surmaturité, if not overripeness) and those 100% vanilla-scented (even more so flavoured!) American oak. A faint violet florality is what hints at freshness here, if anything. Sweet, thick, hugely jammy and milk-chocolatey on the palate, this is the most concentrated Monte Bello I know (never had the 1974, but would be surprised if it topped the 1996 in this regard). Cannot deny the wine is impressive, in other words, it does not miss its apparent purpose, but it is scary how much overtly modernistic wines resemble each other – this really reminded Rainer and me of the 1997 Solaia a couple of weeks ago. There may be a fraction more depth, more likely soil notes hidden in the 1996 Monte Bello, but whoever is waiting for any finesse to surface in either of these wines is clearly barking up the wrong tree. The most awe-inspiring and ageworthy Monte Bello I have ever had, but from a stylistic point of view, I cannot say I liked it. The upfront, easy to interpret 1997 goes better with food (instead of drowning it), as would a zillion other wines. Having said that, if I owned any of the 1996, I would let it mature until it reaches age twenty or so, as it certainly has the raw materials to gain good complexity of tertiary characteristics with age. More oak spice with airing, by the way, yet more emphasis on chocolatey superripeness and lack of finesse to the tannin, some coffee and cocoa dust, but while the extraction here has clearly been taken to the limit, it is the virtual absence of raciness and freshness that makes the wine overbearing. I am well aware this bottling has its following, so anyone with a New World palate may want to look out for this extraoridinarily concentrated incarnation of Monte Bello (the 1996 makes other recent top vintages, such as 1994, 1997 or 2001, look like lightweights) – Andrea, for example simply loved the wine, and poured herself a generous refill. Rating: 92+/93?
St. Stephan’s Crown Tokaji Aszú 5 Puttonyos 1995
Thanks to Albino, who got this as a gift from another Tokaj lover. Orange colour. Orangey dryness due to not too offensive rancio (oxidation), some Apfelstrudel (caramelized apple with rum raisins) and dried apricot sweetness, as well as the curry and paprika notes of young Tokaji Aszú, a little black tea. Quite nice acidity. Oakier and drier (and deeper in colour, showing an amber shade) with airing until the next day, some fallen autumnal leaves. No soil notes or minerality whatsoever. The fact alone that barely half of the bottle was emptied by the time Rainer and I left says it all, I guess. What I find disturbing is that a self-proclaimed Tokaj fan deems this attractive or interesting enough to want to show it to another – this is a combination of style and quality level of Aszú that might make a newbie turn to the products of other late harvest sweet wine-growing regions, too close to what we jokingly refer to as highway Tokaj (sold at gas stations all over Hungary). Rating: 83
István Szepsy Tokaji Cuvée 1999
For those who, like me at one time, wrongly assume everything including the term “Cuvée” on the label has got be modern-styled, let me add an excerpt from an earlier TN on the same:
What I find worthy of mention is that I accused this product unjustly of being a modernistic product whose main purpose I felt was that it could be marketed earlier. István showed Albino and me a reprint of a book from the 18th century which explains the old method of making Tokaji Föbor ("prime wine"), the basis of his inspiration to make what for legalistic reasons has to be called Tokaji Cuvée: around the year 1500, when vineyards were still planted with approximately 30 grape varieties (a majority of which Furmint already back then), there was no picking and stacking of Aszú (dry) berries as later on, i.e. no picking in repetitive passings through the vineyard. Instead people waited and harvested very late (running the risk of bad weather destroying the harvest) and vinified the grape material, some of which was botrytized, some healthy, on the same day. When I asked whether it would be correct to think of the product as a "super-Szamorodni Édes" (Szamorodni is Polish for "the way it was grown", meaning it is a product of fate rather than scheme, as there is no breaking out of dry berries as in the Aszú-szölö bor method), István agreed. The Aszú-szölö bor ("wine from desiccated grapes") method was invented later, the obvious advantage being that vintners did no longer run the risk of losing a complete harvest by leaving everything hanging until late autumn. István added that Tokaji Föbor was of course not bottled at the time but sold in cask so that people went down into their cellar to fill jugs to serve it, so that it was always drunk young (as most wine was) and ageworthiness not an issue. Although the early drinkability can be regarded as a plus, István feels the Aszú method gives the wine more serious structure and thus finds it preferable.
500 ml bottle thanks to Albino. The 163 g/l residual sugar, 9.7 g/l acidity and 10.7% alcohol, reductive style wine of which Hungarian wine writer and critic Gabor Rohály claims it is the greatest Tokaj of all time. Luminescent, full yellow gold. Sweet and exotic nose of bread dough and bakery spices, Scheurebe-like tropical fruit aromas such as candied mango and caramelised pineapple. Most floral and complex on the nose, sweet and mild and lightly viscous on the palate, with the comparatively low alcohol nonetheless giving it a tropical fruit long drink-like warmth. Lovely little lemon zest bitter note, merely faintly bready botrytis, ripe yet quite aromatic acidity. Very long finish. Smooth wine without undue oxidation. I love it (and like the fact that it contains no base must or wine), and yet, compared to a fully-fledged Aszú, it does not come across as structured, gripping, intense or deep enough for my taste. What it may be, however, is a near-ideal, since easy to interpret introduction to the wines of Tokaj for newbies, even hinting at some of the Japanese green tea notes I am routinely fascinated by in the greatest Tokaji Aszús. Rating: 91
With lunch on Monday, with Albino, Andrea and Rainer:
Luciano Sandrone Barolo Cannubi Boschis 1993
Thanks to Albino. Actually, Rainer and I were only served a glass to share, the remainder went into Albino’s (particularly yummy, as Andrea observed) Risotto. Garnet-ruby-black, watery at the rim. Tar, a little forest floor and tree bark, dried cherry and orange, medium sweetness to the fruit at best, tasty, though not especially complex. Some acidity, faintly dry tannin. Some stale marzipan and nutty oak on the nose and medium-long finish. Has seen better days, but never was too remarkable to begin with. Rating: dp 87-/86
Clarendon Hills Shiraz Liandra 1997
Thanks to Albino. 14.5% alcohol. A wine I badly underrated at release (when it seemed overwhelmingly gamy and earthy), this has turned out well. The wines of Clarendon Hills are always the most Northern Rhône-like (Guigal-like, that is) of all Aussie Shirazes, and so is this. Still lightly purple opaque ruby-black. Clean sweaty and lightly animal fruit, not really heavy at all, nicely complex top notes of thyme and rosemary, driven by soil notes more than fruit, round softened tannin, there is even a little finesse to this. Quite long finish. Compared to two years ago, however, this does not seem to be improving anymore. Reminds me that the Guigal La Turque-like Astralis from this vintage remains one of my favourite Australian Shirazes of all time (even if since releases since then could not always convince me I like the bottling per se, nor even this producer’s wines in general – the 1997s here were perhaps an exception rather than the rule). Rating: 91-
Greetings from Switzerland, David.