The Jakarta Connection (Day Two: Finale)

After a make-do rest the night before, followed by a satisfying lunch-cum-tasting today afternoon, sustaining a build up of anticipation for the upcoming evening event -- the very reason why I had decided to make this trip -- my 'rational' self tried repeatedly to convince the body to take a rest before dinner. An hour of nap I thought would have been perfect. The coming evening, after all, promised to be one major burgundy fest, with far more bottles than there would be people, and I had every reason to want to be in the best shape for it.

Sleep is particularly elusive when you believed with all your heart you needed it. After lunch, I elected to tag along with the boys for a massage. One-and-a-half-hour session, and I thought -- believing what the rest said -- would have been the perfect vehicle to that mystical slumber I craved for so suddenly. And perfectly timed too, so why not, I reasoned to myself. To cut the long story short, I am happy to report that I did get some sleep... for approximately four minutes at the tail end of my massage. Now I know what not to do if I ever need to sleep badly.

But I felt alright. The little time spent in the hotel changing up and waiting to get over to the Miele showroom where dinner was supposed to be held seemed very long. Sourcing for a borrowed corkscrew in the hotel proved to be quite a challenge, especially when the three of us, all staying in separate rooms, wanted to open our bottles prior to bringing them to dinner. The housekeeper who delivered the corkscrew to my room flatly refused to let me hang on to it so that I could pass this around to my other friends. He said that some other guests were waiting to use it. In the end, I had to return it and ended up as the only person who brought opened bottles to dinner (other than my roommate, that is...)

The trip to the Miele showroom was in the classic tradition of the Jakarta lifestyle: 10 minutes of driving distance, or 5 minutes of straightline distance, decorated with a 25 minutes worth of peak-hour detour and traffic jam. Fortunately, in spite of the grandeur of the traffic ritual, it did not diminish my anticipation for what was to come.

Interestingly we still arrived quite early and felt right at home once we were there. The place was beautiful and cosy. To put it simply: I would have loved to live there. The chef and his crew were already beginning to boil, stew and grill some of the evening's concoction. The appetizing aromas filled the cool room, and at a table nearby, burgundy glasses enough to serve a party four times our size had been lined up waiting to do its duty. Andy was busy organizing the wines which appeared as and when each guest arrived, sorting and deciding carefully which ones would go into a decanter. KL and I were busy hunting for the 'right' fridge to put our white wine bottles into. Yes, there were that many fridges there. What do you expect? This is the ultimate showroom for kitchen appliances, no?

We eased our ways into unhurried conversations as each guest arrived. In between I stared at the evidence of past glorious escapades : a line up of great bottles (predominantly burgundy, of course) consumed on-site, decorating the side panels of the room. And I thought perhaps after tonight this collection would become even more illustrious. As a matter of fact I was rather convinced so. Minutes later, dinner was served.

I had been thinking to myself it would be quite difficult to do one up after the afternoon's Chablis Les Clos 2002 tasting. I thought the afternoon setting, format and atmosphere were perfect. Yet as I sat down at the table I sensed that although tonight's tasting was not as structured, there would be some special discoveries. All the wines were wrapped blind. The owner would ask questions about his wine(s), citing options to move things along more quickly. And since the white wines were still being chilled, the evening began, in the best of burgundian tradition, with the reds. Ting, ting, ting... Quiet please!

The debut red had a nose that was deep, full of earth and dark cherry essence. Its colour aged, and a mild evidence of the use of stalks in the nose. It was mature, sweet and even textured. Smoky, in fact, rather ashy with a elegant four-squareness. 1990 Armand Rousseau Chambertin. Delicious, but lacking that special force that was Le Chambertin. Perhaps a bottle or storage variation...?

At this point I was beginning to shake my head. If the start was that, what could be next? and next? and next...? But then again, perhaps it was just an unintentional arrangement -- after all, who the heck knows, it was all blind, right? Red #2 sported an even more aged hue. On the nose, definitely stalkier with unmistakable Vosne-like nose full of spicy fruits. This had denser extract than the Chambertin and displayed a tannic tail-end. Surely older, surely Vosne grand cru, and could be DRC or Leroy, although I thought it was more Leroy-ish since it had a burlier frame. 1976 DRC Richebourg. This is getting very interesting indeed, especially we were only on the second wine.

As I approached #3, we got right back into a taut minerally burgundy camp. Gevrey, I thought, and a damned good one. Soya nose, indicating some age that had allowed this surely-grand-cru wine to meld and tame its earthy exhibits into its current display. In fact, this was rather square and deep with chocolatey nuances as well. Yet at the same time it was pristine and densely constituted. A balanced, broodingly serious wine. 1985 Jacques Prieur Chambertin. A wonderfully delicious wine which put my faith back to this vintage who had been more frequently a disappointment than revelation of late.

A Chambolle nose came right up on the next wine. I thought de Vogue, and DO laughed at me. He said I was beginning to stereotype him, but I honestly did perceive some purplish creamy cherry fruits which typify de Vogue, particularly its Bonnes-Mares. Lots of raspberries here with chocolates. Some tang lifted the substantial, serious yet bright body of fruits. Turned out to be 1995 J.F. Mugnier Musigny, which I personally thought was markedly superior to another I had not too long ago. As I let the wine rest in the glass, the stemminess began to emerge. I guess I was too eager to call the wine and missed these little hints. With such a hint, I wouldn't have called it de Vogue. Well, that's what they called hindsight, I suppose.

Okay, enough of reds now (as IF...!) and so we followed up with the white crew. White #1 was a biggie, in fact quite exotic but without being blowsy and out-of-whack. Surely a Puligny grand cru with very deep, textured fruits hinting at minerals, honey, caramels and near-tropical suggestions (no bananas, thankfully! and that ruled out 2003 vintage). Deep golden hue, with fruits that had hints of toffee and a mouthfeel that was quite spherical. Caramelized nuts and very rich. Quite unlike anything I've tasted before. I couldn't put my finger to this wine and rightfully there was no way I could have. It was something I had not tasted before: Le Montrachet. 2001 Henri Boillot Montrachet. Delicious.

White #2 had deep gold and a near copper-like nose. Nutty and toasty with broad and textured flavour profile, albeit lacking middle flavours. I called it a Puligny 1er cru, and I won't know which one... 1994 Leflaive Puligny-Montrachet les Folatieres.

And the final white was from one of my favourite villages in Cote d'Or. Pristine high-toned flavours encased in discreet but incisive limey acidity. Quite flamboyant and expressive at the nose already at this stage with lime skin oil texture adding intrigue in the palate. Despite its unusual approachability, this wine had plenty of reserve in the middle, and it was particularly minerally and square. 2002 Faiveley Corton-Charlemagne. Believe it when people who 'know' say Faiveley's Corton-Charlemagne are special.

We're now back to the reds. The next wine had lots of dark raspberries and a dense multi-dimensionality I now began to associate with this grand cru. Vosne-spices aplenty and an un-shy level of oak treatment that now had begun to integrate with its fruits. Crystalline rich dark fruits stuffed to the brim. 1999 Anne Gros Richebourg.

Swinging back up north, the next bottle had that quintessential Chambolle raspberries essence nose. Dense, ripe and packed with a notable level of ripeness and hence texture. Again, unmistakably grand cru and it had to be a Musigny. This was a large wine but it effortlessly sported an irreproachable purity. The fruits tended to have that darkish tinge suggesting a fairly hardcore vintage. 2001 J.F. Mugnier Musigny.

The next wine had that bright red fruits that was quintessential burgundy. Dense yet elegant, with a certain minerally tinge, even vitamins too -- and this was after being decanted for more than an hour, prior to which it was quite completely muted. Quite high-pitched and multidimensional especially for the appellation, but little wonder because this was a work of a master. 2002 Marquis d'Angerville Volnay Taillepieds.

Aged burgundies now came on with the next two wines. It started with one which had an oily, sweet plums nose. It was also gently but noticeably spiced. Hallowed bacon fat, smokey aromas began to make its introduction with the help of some coaxing in the glass. This is particularly wonderful especially with an old wine such as this. There was evidence of stems and though it was lightly textured, it carried with it an intense innermouth presence and perfume. 1978 Robert Arnoux Romanee-St.-Vivant.

The owner had been very careful with the next one. Even before the Arnoux RSV was served, he was already anxious and began pouring himself a glass and passed it to both myself and Andy to seek the confirmation that the wine was well. Well, it was more than well. A high-pitched nose of evolved plums and almost-metallic minerality, plus that (again) densely packed multidimensionality fusing spicy fruits, earth, smoke, dark cherry liqueur... The fruits were, in a word, luscious, encased in a complicating (not distracting) stalky outer-tones. With even more air, this displayed that icy-cool crystalline black cherries. Very classy. Given its minerality, despite its rich spiciness, I had to take the middle of the road decision to call it a Chambolle, particularly a Musigny. But it was not. Now, on hindsight, I am beginning to realise that only one wine could come out this way. 1964 DRC Richebourg. A very tall, broad, masculine yet elegant wine. A magnificent treat. (The owner must be pleased to have his gamble paid off. The provenance of this wine was very good indeed!)

How to top off a wine like that, I asked myself... Still, while the next wine was decidedly far younger, this had that punch and 'Wow!' factor that was unmistakably from either one of the two most respected grand crus in Gevrey. This wine had a very special briary edge, distinctly and delineatedly displaying intense dimensions of smoke, toast, cherry skins and deep deep minerally fruits. At this point the wood treatment had not completely integrated, but the class of each of its components, the outright sizability of them all, yet remaining perfectly composed and focused in its balance surely suggested the work of a great artist. A great wine by any measure, in fact, thrilling -- infanticide aside. 1999 Armand Rousseau Chambertin. This vindicates why I am so partial to this vineyard, and Rousseau almost always renders a magnificent expression of this tremendous piece of land.

The momentum of the evening was relentless even up to this point, some thirteen wines after... Again, I found my sweet spots seduced by the pronounced soya-like savoury sweet nose of the next wine. High-pitched, with pronounced dense and again icy-cool black cherry fruits. The fruits were almost roasted, but maintained its pitch, focus and restraint. Impeccable juice of unmistakably grand-cru calibre. Voluminous and massive in the mouth, with certain creamy sappiness in its spine. Wonderful stuff. 1998 Meo-Camuzet Vosne-Romanee les Brulees... His most special premier cru vineyard (Meo's personal favourite, apparently) and one that performed far beyond its standing in the cru hierarchy.

What's next was quite spicy and stemmy in its rather exhilarating nose. There's a lot of wine in here, with a certain brooding character in it. Equally dense and spicy in the mouth and it had that almost liqueur like aspect which could only be due to either (a) tremendous ripeness, or (b) a well-cultivated old vine site, or (c) both. There's no doubting the class of this wine and I guessed it was a 1990, but it was in fact a 1995 DRC Romanee-St.-Vivant.

There was a good reason why the next wine was served last. This probably defined the meaning of the word "unyielding". Tremendous power, size and punchiness without sacrificing its exquisite elegance, this wine possessed the essence of raspberries. It was at once briary, confectionery, grapey, monolithic and near-wild. If Roty were to make a Chambolle, it might well turn out like this! This was almost like a 1999, except that it didn't have the nuanced layers, purple extract and backbone minerality typical of that vintage. Stupendous and knock-out stuff (literally). 2001 Roumier Bonnes-Mares.

And so the night ended for the eleven of us imbibing the more-than-just-great burgundies, all fifteen of them. A perfect dinner on all counts. The enthusiasm, atmosphere, food, wine, company, all of these were intoxicating. I was mentally intoxicated, while physically I was spared of it thanks to my dutiful, well-utilized spittoon. Was this well worth my temporary escape from family and professional duties back at home? Well, that's rather rhetorical. And quite importantly the privilege of being able to learn so many things in a single sitting with vintages going back so far was just priceless.

As in all great learning experiences, such an experience just went to show how little I knew of this wine region I thought I had come to know quite well. At this level of playing field, when one is tasting only the best producers making the best terroirs, and add to that the complexity of age, and the exercise of guessing the wines blind is no mean feat. The really good burgundies, when aged, tend to converge and become quite similar. The differences could not be perceived from the fruit profile standpoint anymore and need to be examined from less tangible/technical angles. How does one ascribe mineralities and pitch when it is indeed found in a Vosne? Or opulence in a Gevrey? Or massive structure in a Chambolle? Or 1999 reds which are not exactly sullen? These are the very discoveries which would certainly change the way I view these wines in the future -- blind or not.

And yes, I would need to attend a lot more tastings in the future in order to validate what I learned tonight... Anyone would like to make me an offer?