by Wine Owners
Posted on 2016-09-30
We are currently in the midst of a renaissance in both interest and prices in a little known wine growing corner of France called Bordeaux. Having languished in the doldrums since mid-2011 the last 12 months has seen a resurgence of the pre-eminent fine wine producing region. Although still way short of the peaks of May 2011, prices are steadily rising, and a stellar 2015 vintage has breathed life into a moribund en primeur system. It is still some way from leaving the hospital, but at least ‘La Place’ is now out of intensive care. You may have noticed that our introduction to a piece purportedly about Piedmont has focused squarely on Bordeaux. There is a design behind this geographical madness, we assure you.
As Bordeaux has once again become flavour of the month (year?) it seems that Super-Tuscans have suffered by comparison. This is, of course, the equal and opposite reaction to the increase in interest in Super-Tuscans in the period mid-2011 to December 2014, when Tig, Sass, Masseto et al moved ahead in pricing terms as Bordeaux buyers looked for high quality wines in sufficient quantities, and with sufficient liquidity, to adequately substitute in…
(Again, where is Piedmont is all this?)
Bear with us.
The point here is that Bordeaux and Tuscany appear to have a pricing relationship based on the similarity of styles, and a similarity of production levels. They are yin and yang, and if the focus is on Bordeaux, then logically it follows there is an absence of focus on Tuscany.
So, the scene is set; now on to Piedmont. Where the Super-Tuscans are Johnny come latelies, deliberately combining the traditional virtues of Sangiovese with alien plantings like Cab Sav, Merlot and Cab Franc, the best wines of Piedmont – and we're thinking, naturally, of Barolo in particular – are a bastion of hundreds of years of mono-varietal wine making, where Nebbiolo is revered as King to the exclusion of all others. Many wine lovers would agree that the best wines of Barolo, from producers such as Conterno, Rinaldi, Giacosa et al, are a match for anything made in France in terms of complexity, balance, ageing potential and sheer quality. If, as seems to be the case, Tuscan wines are perceived as an alternative to Bordeaux, then it stands to reason Piedmont is a natural counterpoint to Burgundy. Single dominant varietal? Check. Small average production levels per producer? Check. Passionate following by hardcore wine lovers? Check. Both regions have even undergone similar improvements in quality control, with Burgundy improving through the 80s and Barolo a little later, through the 90s. But…stratospherically high prices for the best producers? We're afraid the comparison falls down on this point.
Even the best producers in Barolo can be bought for a fraction of the prices paid for DRC, Leroy, Rousseau or Roumier. Certainly they aren’t cheap, but the huge increases in values that have been seen in the Bourgogne haven’t been replicated in Barolo. But things might be beginning to change. Interest in a broader array of regions by increasingly well-educated global wine buyers has opened doors into markets that didn’t exist a decade ago. Slowly, but with gradually increasing speed, these top Piedmont wines are attracting attention, and if (as many commentators believe) Burgundy prices may beginning to slow, plateau or even fall, then there is every chance that the relationship between Tuscany and Bordeaux may be mirrored by the Burgundy and Piedmont regions. Long term buyers of Burgundy, looking for value, could well switch attention to new areas, and thereby reduce exposure to Burgundy. Piedmont could well be the major beneficiary of any such move…
by Wine Owners
Posted on 2015-12-09
Robert Parker has consistently highlighted low yields over the years as a key indicator of quality. It’s a belief over which he’s been challenged by producers and experts alike.
But is he wrong? Are low yields a prerequisite for wines of character and nuance that we so crave, or is this just a red herring seized upon by eager wine writers whose understanding of winemaking techniques are inadequate?
Jordon Ross of Oenology International points to a run of vintages where the worst wines from the key regions of Bordeaux, Burgundy and California were made from lowest production vintages, whereas the best wines came from those where production was highest.
His misgivings, and those of producers he interviews such as Dominique Lafon, are down to the belief that low yields sell wine and that old vines do not necessarily produce better wines than young vines.
M. Lafon highlights an extreme case to argue that view “Some producers here are talking low yields but with so many dead vines in their vineyards that it’s nonsense, it means nothing.”
That’s as maybe, but let’s not allow rotten vineyard husbandry to define the argument and allow the rejection of the notion that low yields might nonetheless be an important factor behind quality.
I for one am more than happy to accept that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, that my own technical base - like the know-how of most collectors - is relatively scant, and that it’s easy to grossly oversimplify.
However, I do possess one means of very subjectively putting the question to the test, and that’s my palate. When all is said and done, surely that’s what matters most?
Burgundy seems to be a particularly good and topical reference point when discussing yields given the run of low yield vintages the region endured 2010-2014.
The true colours of a fine wine show with age, long after they've been evaluated by tasters in their first blush of youth (or in the case of Burgundy as échantillons untimely plucked from the comfort of their oak casks).
Vintages blessed with good production volumes and generally fine weather - 1990 and 1999 being prime examples that were lauded upon release - whilst studded with beautiful wines, contain as many examples that are bland and fruity, but fall short of complex or exciting.
On the other hand, there are many wines from low-yielding vintages characterised as difficult or gawky upon release, which 15-20+ years on show a level of intensity and aromatic complexity that are more than a match for the bigger, ‘better’ vintages. For example, there are truly wonderful wines from 1998 (Gouges, Barthod, Bachelet, Mortet) that at release were described (correctly in my view) by Jancis Robinson as ‘tough and stolid’. 18 years on, and they have matured into exceptionally complex, deeply toned wines.
Seeking out the best producers is a must of course, since there are great, good, average and awful ones irrespective of anything else.
Talking of great, no one does it better in Barolo than Roberto Giacomo. His transparent Monfortino 2002, with its tiny yields from a dismal vintage, is a very special wine of weightless proportions. It will never be mistaken for a hot year like 1997 or 2004, but so what? The wine has a rare aromatic subtlety and sweetness that makes it a rarity.
So what of more recent vintages? Bill Nanson talks about 2012 red Burgundy as a vintage visited by ‘the four horsemen of the apocalypse’! It wasn’t easy and yields were considerably reduced. Will it prove to be a great vintage? I believe so, with the best wines surely destined to be as good as 2010 or 2005. There is a fabulous vitality to the vintage that ought to see the best examples blossom into wines of great character.
As if that wasn’t bad enough from a vigneron perspective, 2013 was worse: an exceptionally low yielding year, blighted by a summer that only dared speak its name in July. Although the wines can seem lean and dry at times (evident in January 2015’s échantillons in London), on another day from barrel in situ they show fine, sappy, delineated fruit.
Even though 2013s have higher acidity levels and bright flavours, my guess is that the miserly yields and consequent concentration of juice will compensate over time and make some fine older bones, unlike the much higher-yielding 1996 vintage which remains angular and more often than not lacking.
So far we’ve discussed low yields resulting from nature’s hand.
When it comes to the age of vines and yields per vine, it seems to me the argument is rather more clear-cut. Assuming the producer puts the necessary time and effort into vineyard husbandry, older vines and the naturally occurring lower yields seem to very obviously impart intensity and complexity to the end result. When Clive Coates talks about ‘creamy old vine flavour’ I get what he’s describing.
So, whilst accepting that low yields per se do not necessarily mean good wine, to deny its very significant contribution to creating truly great wines and their appreciation seems unnecessary.
by Wine Owners
Posted on 2014-05-16
What was truly historic about this tasting was that every wine served was from magnum. Since Monfortino was not bottled in magnums every vintage (Roberto's father shied away from larger formats because they had to be hand-bottled) this tasting was of EVERY Monfortino vintage EVER bottled in mags.
The magnums all came from a collector in Italy, known to Roberto, and acquired by Antonio some time ago. Theoretically, because the wines have been stored in exactly the same conditions since release, what you were therefore tasting is the vintage differences, with the exception of the 1970 which was made from bought-in grapes as was the custom of the time. Cascina Francia was bought by Roberto's father in 1974.
The flights were arranged thematically. This was an inspired choice, with warmer vintages grouped together, cooler shades, modern day classics etc.
The magnums were decanted 4 hours in advance of the start of the dinner.
The wines were poured in advance of each course arriving, so that the wines could be tasted alone and with matched dishes.
Flight 1: To Start
Served with crispy chicken thighs and charred lettuce.
1988
Ripe, expressive nose, sweet and pronounced pepperiness. Pale brick rim, limpid ruby core. Really thick glycerol. Grippy and bright, with a persistent citric thread. Mouthwatering finish with tertiary leafy notes.
An hour later a bit loose-knit.
1993
Cool nose. Pure creamy fruit, subdued pepper, orange brick rim with a deeply coloured core. Fresh, intense fruit, orange zesty, progressive cedar notes. A little closed on the mid-palate then blooms into a very long finish.
An hour later rich, confit, firm and excellent.
Wine of the flight.
1995
Sweet nose, elegant, fruity and floral. Pale pink rim with orange tinge. Fluid, integrated palate, crystalline and precise.
An hour later, very complete. Grippy, heady fruit, masculine.
Flight 2: The warm vintages
Served with a layered Foie gras terine, pomegranate, sauternes gel.
1990
Warm pepper nose, powerful and spirity. Translucent rim. So young on the palate, with an amazing entry that is grippy with thrilling acidity. So young.
An hour later less grippy but still super-fresh and exciting. Another decade?
1997
Very overt nose; subtle blueberry notes followed by macerated cherries and summer pudding. Blueberries on the entry, texturally dense with a lifted mid-palate, mouthwatering. Vivid fluid palate and finish. Very expressive yet fine.
An hour later, nose has calmed down beautifully, stunningly layered palate with floral notes. Wine of the flight.
1998
Creamy nose, white pepper, liqueur. Pale orange rim, shining ruby core. Warm entry, a little less precision than the preceding wine, softly spiced fruit, confit aftertaste and a vibrant, fabulously driven finish.
2000
Rye bread nose, spirity, herbal and fresh, with pinot-like undertones. Pink-tinged, strawberry-coloured core. Supremely elegant palate, soft yet dry. Aside from the nose, you would never guess this was the product of warm vintage.
Flight 3: cooler shades
Served with beef Fillet Tataki, pickled onion and something called Wakame.
1987
Rich, heady nose, deep colour, pink tinged rim. Energetic and intense, dramatic yet elegant. Floral mid palate, powerfully and progressively builds to an endless finish. Perfect balance.
Wine of the flight (head)
1996
Not a good bottle sadly. Oxidative Bovril nose, fresh and mouthwatering , sherbet finish, short and un-knit. This was the better of the 2 bottles opened apparently, the first being corked (not served).
2002
Sweet, perfectly poised nose of red and soft fruits. Reminiscent of pinot within the strawberry flavor spectrum. Sweet, gentle pastille fruit. Very long. Beautiful and one for burgundy lovers. Adorable.
Wine of the flight (heart)
2005
Macerated fruit nose. Savoury notes with grippy cool tannins then dark brooding fruit with a sour twist to the mid-palate, before pushing on to an enduringly deep but firm finish.
An hour later, perfectly resolved.
Flight 4: the epic vintages
Served with cannon of lamb and lamb belly, cauliflower pureé and lentils - a masterpiece.
1970
Very alluring savoury nose. Surprisingly deep colour. Slightly gamey, intense and powerful, complex and perfectly poised. Flavours contained by the evident structure of the wine. The wine sings properly with the lamb.
Wine of the flight.
1982
Saline nose, faintly oxidative before it blows off then pure sweet fruit. Slightly volatile, very bright sexy fruit, very intense confit character lifted by a powerful freshness.
1995
Darkly fruited nose, very pure. Translucent scarlet colour. Such a lovely balance. Grainy palate. Elegant, deeply veined fruit.
1999
Primary nose of pure fruit, edgeless. Primary colour with the merest hint of a maturing rim. Stuningly defined, intense but balanced fruit. So refreshing. The ultimate food wine and a future monument for 10-20 years hence.
Future icon of the night.
Flight 5: modern day classics
Served with cheese.
2001
White pepper nose, pure and pale rimmed, limpid ruby, pretty medium weight.
2004
Ripe, fleshy and overtly fruity nose. Deep colour, purple-rimmed. Structured, powerful, grainy palate.
2006
Peppery, fruity, fresh cool nose. Classic form. Very pretty ruby colour. Glycerol drenches the side of the glass. Stunningly pure, linear fruit
Wine of the flight.
