Palate presence revisited III

First of all, let me own up. I cracked open the Arnoux Bourgogne "Pinot Fin" 2002 bottle just this Tuesday -- exactly the next day after my last writeup where I nobly proclaimed I wasn't going to do just that. Such weakness...

So much had been written on the more regular (nonetheless interesting) bottles in the past two posts, it now begs the question: what about the grand crus?

Before I talk about the various grand cru encounters I had recently, I realised something about the way I tend to assess grand crus -- somewhat I use a slightly different angle when it comes to these very special bottlings which represent only 1% of the total produce of Cote d'Or.

In a world where people are interested in comparatives and superlatives, it's hard not to hold one's breath when encountering such revered bottlings. Why? Well, if the highest expression of pinot noir can only be found in burgundy, then, the its highest classification must surely be the most special. Split that across 34 distinct sections, and after which into hundreds of producers, I think the hair-raising factor of the idea of just drinking one of these bottles are certainly very present.

There tends to be only two ways of judging what seems to be the 'best' of the best: either find reasons to justify why it's so good or find faults with it.

As a discerning consumer, and one with very limited financial resources just to add, I tend to falter into the second category. Looking back to the various grand cru tasting notes, I notice that I often wrote about what the wine lacked rather than possessed, especially in reference to its exalted potential. This tendency can easily be explained via human psychology (the "sour grapes" syndrome), but now I question if this is at all helpful.

I am not going to write an apologetics of the grand crus of burgundy. Suffice it to say that centuries of diligent record keeping, research and corporate tasting (read: tradition) can hardly be wrong. So yes, the very fact that a plot of land is now classified as a Grand Cru must totally reflect its exalted potential to produce the top crops of the region. Period.

So how do I reconcile the fact that most grand crus tend to disappoint more than they satisfy? Let me suggest a few possibilities:
(a) the wine is not well prepared for the tasting (after all, we're talking about a most fragile varietal)
(b) the wine has not reached the peak drinking window (seasoned burgundy drinkers must recognize the nature of a burgundy lifespan which is vertically more convoluted than the most exciting rollercoaster ride you've ever taken)
(c) there are many styles in winemaking, some of which fall short of what is romanticized as the 'burgundy way' and hence the result is compared with a fictitious 'reference-standard grand cru' which we may never taste anyway
(c) most of us don't really understand burgundy wines to begin with
(d) there are truly bad grand crus around

In view of my recent experiences, I must say that none of the grand crus I've tasted really stood out as a very special wines no matter how good and unique they may be in the context of pinot noir wines. That does not mean that all of them suck. The most profound pinot noir I had were all grand crus. I was just lucky to taste them when they showed best. Let me recap some recent tastings...

Fougeray de Beauclair's Bonnes-Mares 2000 was tasty, and candied-smelling in the nose. There's lots of raspberries and cherries going on here, but the palate, although pristine, just lacked the cut, austerity and depth expected of both the cru and the appellation. I honestly thought it was a Chambolle-Musigny, although ironically this is the only Bonnes-Mares plot that resides in Morey-St-Denis. In short, it was clean and sweet, technically very good, but no extra edge to make the wine a standout.

Lamarche's La Grande Rue 1997 was mind-boggling for a simple reason: it was muted. It is actually beyond me that a 1997 can be this closed today but here's one. Very reticent aromas that won't let up despite minutes of coaxing in the glass, although the palate was both layered, sweet and very cool for the vintage. What it lacked however was the midpalate -- perhaps a testimony of the vintage? Otherwise, a fine wine, but shortchanged by its lack of readiness and certainly quite inexpressive today. I have long realized that lack of vivacity in burgundy should not be conveniently interpreted as mediocrity, but this one was honestly difficult to assess. Still I'm hopeful that it would one day be delicious.

A tasting of an Echezeaux from 1988 (the producer's name, an obscure one, eludes me) showed me two things: (1) just how long grand crus take to come around, and (2) just how underappreciated the 1988s are. This wine was delicious. Still vibrant in the core with bright black cherry fruits, it was complicated with smoke, meat and underbrush. Structured, this wine was not at all dry. A restrained sappiness stick around in the midpalate. Sweet!

I had always wanted to try a Roty grand cru. And so I really looked forward to trying the Charmes Chambertin TVV 2001. The wine was quite dramatic. Huge, dark, broodingly sweet and viscous in the centre yet quite light in weight. I almost had to search for that Gevrey earth and minerals, but yes, it was there too. This wine was implosive and if it ever unfolds over time to reveal its layers, there is no doubt it'd be great. And so I look forward to anyone with older bottles. Anyone?

Arnoux's Romanee St. Vivant 1998 is always an anomaly in Arnoux's family of wines. While other Arnoux wines almost always has a edgy and angular take on their finish, this RSV is always very round. Tonight, it tasted somewhat less vibrant than the last time I tasted it, some three years back (I think). What was still there was the roundness, almost-candied sweetness, and some spicy hint a la Vosne-Romanee. Again, a wine that I really wonder about its future.

There was a Leroy 1969 Echezeaux too. Although the wine was still alive, it was getting thin and a tad too metallic for a Vosne. I thought it was a lesser-year-in-the-late-60s Chambertin Clos de Beze. I suppose the rusticity, a hallmark I always find in Echezeaux (except at chez Jayer) should have been a giveaway. But this was hardly inspiring.

There was a Faiveley Latricieres-Chambertin 1995, as well as a Geantet-Pansiot Charmes-Chambertin 2002. I like Faiveley, but this one was just off-form, not to mention not-ready. The Charmes by Pansiot, was again sticky-sweet. The 2001 version was much better, with interesting bacon-fat and cut than the 2002 which tasted ripe and a tad roasted.

I look forward to tasting fully ready grand crus. The kind of experience like tasting Jayer's 1992 Echezeaux (religious) I hope to replicate soon. There would be a 1998 grand cru tasting next month. I truly hope there'd be some that would show beautifully. (For a start there'd be a Jayer.) And the BurgFest next month, some of the older Clos Vougeot I hope too would show up well. Given all the potentials, it would be a shame to keep discovering the unreadiness of these bottles. After all, they really ought to be the greatest wines on this planet!