Bowes Wine

Burgundy Swansong; Branding and Offerrs Imminent

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 16:09:00 +0000

Scottish hill, beneath which we walked last weekend
We are coming to the end of a drawn out 2010 Burgundy campaign, during which I have attempted to hold clients' interest through a series of single-producer mini-offers: something I am trialling for the first time this year.

Why? Well, my goal and intention is to bring Bowes Wine clients fabulous wines in the easiest format possible, using some form of communication that is sufficiently succinct, yet in which I can adequately express my enthusiasm for a particular wine (or series of wines), whilst conveying a reasonable amount of concise information.

And I get the impression that this latest-to-be-tried format is not the ideal I had hoped it might be. I get the impression a degree of burgundy overkill has been experienced by clients in the latter stages of this timed-release. Perhaps it's time to move on. We have one or two producers as yet unoffered; maybe we can catch up with them at a later date.

Trouble is, at this time of year, "a later date" becomes a much later thing indeed. The 2010 Rhône wines are being released steadily and I have already reserved an excellent tranche of wine from a range of quality-conscious wine makers. Yet I need to get out to the Valley and taste for three days at a bare minimum and I have been struggling to find the time.

Then, in something of a cascade, we have a week of skiing from which I am flying straight to Bordeaux to taste the 2011 vintage. Not long thereafter I will have to be in Hong Kong, where I am assisting in a charity wine dinner. Where a Rhône offer or, indeed, a release of our remaining 2010 burgundies, will fit in all that, I am struggling to work out.

Changing the subject completely...the subject of branding in wine is never very far from my thoughts and is demanding more consideration in the face of my having, reasonably imminently, to start thinking about 2011 Bordeaux.

Of course, the individual châteaux are their own brands. And the communes hold their own sway over the consumer (how often does one meet a Pomerol person, or a Margaux man). I have now come to realise that vintages are very much their own brand, too.

Take 2010. After 2009, the 2010 releases were met by a Bordeaux-weary world; a body of consumers, collectors and investors who were all tuckered out with the region and from whom any interest in Bordeaux had been entirely wrung. I anticipated that clients might see the sense in buying a spread of cheaper wines, intent on the future drinking of mature wines produced in what was without doubt a vintage from the very top echelons.

Not a bit of it. Brand 2010 was dirty, tarnished by greed and mismanagement on the part of the Bordelais. The indifference was palpable.

Of course, a part of this indifference has an entirely pragmatic source. Stimulated into buying action by the excitement surrounding so many of the vintages since 2000 - 2003, 2005, 2009 and, to a lesser extent, 2004, 2006 and 2008 - many wine consumers have a great deal of claret in their cellars. At what stage do these people say hell, I have 30, 50, 80, 100 cases of red Bordeaux wine in my cellar and I neither want nor need any more. The desire is then to diversify. Even (as with the 2010s) if the next vintage is proclaimed the best of the lot, such proclaimation will bounce off a rubbery wall that makes the faint sound yadayadayada as it throws it all back.

So, coming up for Bowes Wine clients, we are planning an offer of wines from the longest standing "First Growth" of Spain and a small, fascinating range of Americana. In addition, there are the single vineyard Barbarescos (Barbareschi, I believe, is technically correct) of the Produttori de Barbaresco, a co-operative that, for years, has been making extremely fine wine from the Nebbiolo grape, perhaps the only variety capable of giving Pinot Noir a run for its money. There's also a Barolo and a Gattinara that I would like to unleash on our clients. Piemonte has been underexplored, both in my own cellar and in the offerings of Bowes Wine. Time to redress the issue, methinks!

To London to Walk and Taste

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 10:06:00 +0000

Dressed for the weather on The Mall

Twice I caught the train to London last week and twice walked across a frozen Hyde Park to my destination, in the first instance the Westbury Hotel off Bond Street, secondly the Institute of Directors on Pall Mall. Both were good walks. And the first day, the sky was bright and bold magpies sprang about on their bouncy legs as if they'd had word that spring was on the edge of town and bearing down on us. Day two was a different prospect altogether. The wind blew into the left side of my face like the frozen contents fired from the nozzle of a fire extinguisher until I started wondering how long it would be before I contracted Bell's Palsy.

The tastings - the pair of them - were fascinating affairs. The first was a "range tasting" at which an importer was showing a large selection from their list. This was upstairs at the Westbury Hotel.

I started with burgundy and sampled '10s, '09s and '08s. Stand out amongst the whites, I am happy to rreport, were the wines of Antoine Jobard, some of which have appeared on Bowes Wine burgundy offers these last few years (click here to see some remnant '09s and here to ask me about the '10s, of which we have a few cases left). They just had the lead over everything else by a clear length when it came to class and complexity.

The Rhônes were an interesting bunch, too. A couple of producers from the north of the valley reminded me why I object so to the 100% new oaking of the beautiful Syrah wines that are made there. The vim, spice and energy has been sapped by the wood into a smudge and creamy smear, both on the nose and in the mouth.

Yet a Châteauneuf producer brought the sun from behind quercus clouds. I had been to Domaine Cristia in Courthézon some years before and liked the wines very much, just not finding room for them in my offer that vintage. The '10s are quite spectacular. It helps that this is very much my sort of Southern Rhône vintage. The Grenache has come in with the facility to produce wines as pretty and elegant as Pinot Noir. The natural wildness of these wines is restrained, yet concentration and intensity very much in evidence. I hope in years to come to spend my Châteauneuf-du-Pape time drinking the '01s, '04s, '06s and '10s. It will imbue me with great happiness.

I then set about the serried ranks of wines from all four corners and managed to find a couple of storming liquids for The Daily Drinker: a Grenache Blanc (that white clone of the Grenache grape that is the 14th of the 13 permitted grape varieties of Châteauneuf-du-Pape) and a splendid Greco di Tufo, an ancient grape grown in the hills outside Naples.

Day two and a tasting that has become one of the unmissable fixtures in the UK tasting calendar: Wines of Austria at the Institute of Directors. And the place was absolutely packed with journalists, critics and merchants, this latter group all looking for new and exciting Austrian wines to buy for their lists; wines, as before, they would utterly fail to sell.

For this is the dilemma and paradox faced by wine merchants. In Austria we have a country that produces some of the world's most exciting wines, yet these are bottles that are virtually entirely impossible to sell. These wines are, in many ways, the opposites of the modern, high-alcohol, deeply-coloured, made-for-the-critics style. Pick up most glasses of Austrian wine and one's immediate reaction is "when's lunch?". They are appetising fluids that stimulate and enliven, rather than sun-drenched bruisers that make one sigh with exhaustion, rather than pleasure.

I suspect that, at some stage, these wines will become immensely popular, probably would be immensely popular now if only the world's wine drinkers would get out and try the best examples, of which there are many. Until that time, I will continue to talk about them and will continue, with great gusto, to drink them myself.

Small Rant on the Subject of Burgundy

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 13:32:00 +0000

The terroir of the departed, Savigny-lès-Beaune

Burgundy is a magical, mystical place for wine merchant and aficionado alike, source of some of the world's most stunning wines, at best extraordinarily scintillating amalgams of the most beautiful fruit and profound terroir. It's also a place - and a wine - that frustrates the hell out of me.

I think most wine consumers, by now, understand the significance of Burgundy in Planet Wine; its place at the head table; the manner in which it becomes an obsession for those who start out on a journey of burgundian discovery. Yet if the volume of bordeaux we sell in any given vintage can be expressed as x, the volume of burgundy we sell is 10% of x. There are reasons for this phenomenon; reasons, but little sense.

The fact of it is that many consumers avoid burgundy due to them finding it beyond their comprehension. Too complicated to understand, it gets left on the shelf. Many would rather put away a further tranche of bordeaux (on which subject they feel they have some grasp) than visit unknown territory and purchase burgundies that are utterly outwith their ken.

Sad to say, I suspect that this is the legacy of Robert Parker, before the advent of whose publications most consumers were happy to delegate their wine knowledge to a trusted wine merchant. I would suggest that, rather than freeing the tastebuds of the wine collector by the provision of comprehensive and easily-accessible information, many of today's wine writers have done exactly the opposite: they have instilled in the mind of the wine consumer a requirement for understanding. This is a travesty and a great shame. Wine consumers are missing out on some of the world's finest wines...and I am missing out on the bottom line.

Let me say now that my knowledge of Burgundy and burgundy is woefully underdeveloped. A big part of visiting the region every year and tasting the wines on a regular basis is the satisfaction taken in the expansion of that knowledge: identifying the questions and researching the answers; above all, asking questions. I am sorry to report that if you are saving your burgundy buying until such time as you have an opportunity to do some research of your own, you will, most likely, remain under-endowed in the burgundy department.

The answer is to buy burgundy from Bowes Wine. And yes, of course I would say that. But the fact remains, I am under no obligation to buy any of the wines you see on our burgundy offer; indeed, I am not obliged to sell any of the wines we offer at all. My levels of faith in all these wines is 100%. Please feel free to buy with confidence. Should you end up disappointed when you come to drink these wines, we would be happy to make amends...but I consider it extremely unlikely it would ever come to that...

Click here to go to the offer

Mighty Whites and Reds; Heady Views and Fine Food

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 09:42:00 +0000

Looking towards central across the lake in Hong Kong Park

I have just arrived in Singapore, a place which looked bright enough during my taxi ride into town, but the firm splatter of raindrops against my hotel rooom window showed its real intentions re the weather.

Hong Kong was busy, starting with a fine dinner out at Crown Wine Cellars. I was blind tested on a couple of bottles and managed to get really rather close to the first of them:

1989 Chateau Canon
Delicious, fully mature nose. Sweet black fruit of cherry and plum, plus a hint of cold tea, dark chocolate and a hint of mint. Wisp of smoke and raspberry, the whole thing dense in a slightly creamy way. The palate is plush, initially satin-textured. Flavours are cold tea with notes of spice and that lovely plum fruit. Piquant minerals wrap around the finish, where I also found some slightly grainy tannins (which should have given the game away re vintage). Grip increases throughout and it ends freshly. Takes on an aroma of nori when open for a while.

I guessed 1990 Canon, so wasn't too put out.

Next wine, I was nowhere near as clever:

1989 Vega Sicilia Unico
Floral aromas to the really pretty high-toned nose. And there's some sweet fruit nuanced by liquorice: smoked blueberries and plums, as well as some dried fruit. This is a little jammy, although not in any bad sense. Both red and black and tangy with it. A rich, fresh and quite structured palate showing easy and consistent grip. Very long, with a saline minerality along its length. Very little tannin apparent. Dried, savoury leaves.

I will not relate my guesses on this one. We finished with a half bottle of 1997 Chateau de Malle, which was delightful.

I had never been to Otto e Mezzo, that restaurant in Alexandra House where cooks the erstwhile chef of the mighty Toscana in the old Ritz Carlton. We were three diners and I had been instructed to bring a white. I secured a bottle of 2006 Riesling Smaragd Durnsteiner Kellerberg from FX Pichler and it was superb: fresh, dense, citrus and very complex, developing beautifully with air.

Next, a couple of fine reds:

1991 Clos de la Roche, Armand Rousseau
Fully tertiary. Notes of mushroom skin and rich red cherry and plum fruit, plus spiced liquorice. Palate is fully resolved, showing gentle grip. There's a hint of mustiness under the flavours of sous bois. Altogether delicious!

Next...the "other" French wine region!:

1994 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild
A fresh nose, crisp and pure. Aromas both red and black and fresh, of currants, with a classic cedar undertow. Black cherry. In the mouth, very cool; just medium weight. A dry wine, deceptively long. Really fresh, cool, subtle and elegant.

And lastly (and very kindly supplied by mein host):

1990 Krug
Not many bubbles, those that are present rising slowly. A profound colour of pronounced gold. Nose is dense and very bready, with a saline minerality. A truly gripping nose, in fact, mature and broad. Sugared almonds and walnuts; white chocolate. Very nutty: almond paste. With breathing, aromas of ginger and fresh mushroom skins. The mousse has a piquancy, although it doesn't come across as terribly fizzy. A highly mineral wine, long and subtly fresh. It develops flavours of mocha and deposits chalky minerals on the tongue. Walnut cordial. The mousse is lost in the wine's mineral concentration. Touch of the finest cheese rind. Later on, it took on a wheaten note.

We were all distraught when the last sip had gone. Towering, immaculate, masculine and utterly lovely wine. I wish I could drink it often.

And then there was my tasting at the Yacht Club. The Gun Room is a fine place for such an event, hanging out, as it does, over the waters of the harbour. The wines were showing brilliantly. What were the stars? The pairing of two 2008 dry white Bordeaux wines was scintillating: Smith-Haut-Lafitte and Domaine de Chevalier, just so different from one another, the first smelling of cat's pee in a herb garden, mightily concentrated, direct, very long, the second a touch closed, but beautiful, rich and blanaced impeccably. I will watch both with interest over the years.

2007s: Domaine de Chevalier red and La Conseillante. These are almost ready and quite delicious. No wonder the prices have started bouncing.

2008s: Vieux-Chateau-Mazerat and Carmes Haut-Brion. The former loam-dense, subtle and quite modern, the latter crisp, curranty, delightfully fresh.

Too many wines to mention! The white Rhones found many friends: 2008s from Clos des Papes and Beaucastel.

The 2008 Grenache de Pierre from Domaine Giraud shows why this variety is well into a rennaissance: intense wine, complex, spicy and delicious.

And the Daily Drinker wines shifted, I think, tasters' views of Portuguese and Greek whites, Romanian red. A few scales fell, I hope, from a few eyes.

Lots more fine food and wine was enjoyed and many excellent people met with. Leaving HK is always something of a wrench. I am still under its spell.

Oh, and for those who have yet to go, I can recommend a trip to the Ozone bar in the new Ritz Carlton on the 118th floor of the ICC building, Kowloon side. The view is unlike anything I have ever experienced...although I mightily disapprove of being told that tables have a minimum spend. Bah!

Fuel Expenditure Gone Wrong; Wines Gone Very Right

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 15:00:00 +0000

A sample of Fixin awaiting our attention outside the Domaine Mortet in Arnaud's absence

I didn't get a chance to pen a post on either my penultimate or final day in Burgundy. Dinner kept me out late for the former, and a woeful collection of misadventures ensured a tardy finish my last night, delivering me back to the gite exhausted in the darkness, fatigued and desperate for a square meal.

Thursday line-up: Digioia-Royer in Chambolle; François Lamarche in Vosne; Jean Chauvenet in Nuits. Pause. Lunch. Camus-Bruchon in Savigny; Tollot-Beaut in Chorey.

Friday line-up: Jean Grivot in Vosne; Rebourgeon-Mure in Pommard. Pause. Lunch. Taupenot-Merme in Morey; Mortet in Gevrey; Rossignol-Trapet in Gevrey; Drouhin-Laroze in Gevrey.

Thursday went off like clockwork and continued to reinforce our belief that 2010 is indeed a very great burgundy vintage. I have never tasted wines so fine at Lamarche nor, perhaps, at Chauvenet, at which domaine a shift in style has taken place. It's a shift which is, one has the impression, occurring all over the commune of Nuits-St-Georges: a move to minimise Nuits' natural toughness and craft liquids more approachable, but that still display clearly that fascinating terroir that makes Nuits such an excellent hunting ground for burgundy enthusiasts. Christophe Drag at Chauvenet showed us a beautiful collection of his 2010s and the change appears to have been effected seamlessly and highly successfully.

And you have to admire the wines at Camus-Bruchon. Largely unknown to all but the most avid burgundy afficionado they nevertheless continue to produce some of the finest wines of Savigny-lès-Beaune, ergo some of the best values in the region.

Dinner that evening was courtesy of a UK importer from whom we secure allocations of a number of very fine wines, including burgundy. Food was extremely palateable, but the wines were luminary. A bottle of 2007 Puligny-Montrachet 1er Cru les Referts from Louis Carillon was on the go when we arrived and very good it was too: showing its oak in its youthfulness, but rich and mineral and complete. Bottle number two was rather grander: the 2004 Montrachet of Ramonet. Of course, one hopes that one has the chance to drink this wine again when it is at its absolute apogee, but boy is this stuff impressive, seeming to define fineness.

A magnum of '93 Volnay Santenots from Lafon folowed and was deliciously energetic, as are so many wines of that vintage.

Friday was an altogether more complicated day. Late morning found Tasting Buddy and me at a petrol station in some despair. I had squirted 30 litres of unleaded into my diesel car and we were instantly earth-bound. A garage sent a man, but he confirmed that he needed to deal with the problem back at base. We were loaded onto/into a truck and soon delivered.

I placed a call to the UK agent of the wines of our afternoon's domaine visits and she quickly appeared and kindly ferryed us about all afternoon. Best of all, we took a call during our frist appointment to say that the car was all done and ready to collect. I had paid €50 for the petrol, now destroyed or, more likely, residing in the tank of one of the garage's staff cars. The work to empty the tank, including the tow, cost €212. The I refilled the tank with diesel: €118. A pricey day all-in-all!

I had never been to Taupenot-Merme before and sitting in a cosy dining room right by the grand cru vineyard of Clos des Lambrays we had a very good tasting. I will certainly offer some of these...as I will with every other producer at which we tasted. Grivot wines were very exciting; Mortet's one wine of which I can secure an allocation - the Fixin - is outrageously expensive for a Fixin, but is better than many domaine's 1er Crus from terroir considered vastly more senior. At Rossignol-Trapet the wines seems to get better and better. The 2010s are utterly fabulous. And Drouhin-Laroze. What a way to finish. Spoilt rotten, we felt.

Last up, I went to visit Daniel Rebourgeon in Pommard. I have a big soft spot for this domaine. Daniel is a very friendly sort who, after studying wine making in the same class as Jean-Pierre Charlot of the Domaine Joseph Voillot in Pommard, went on to teach wine making for a period before settling into the family domaine. The wines are, as ever, super-pale, yet concentrated, intense and beautiful. They are also ridiculously cheap for what they are. We finished with a 1962 Volnay village wine and it was quite extraordinary: still loaded with fruit, gently mocha-scented and flavoured. What fun.

We cleaned the gite and headed for the Channel tunnel. As we rolled down the ramp and onto the train the screen on the dashboard that shows the range for the remaining fuel ticked down to 0 miles and I then spent the 35 minute journey imagining us being pushed off the train by an irate band of those occupying the cars behind us, but we made it to the fuelling stop UK-side and were more relaxed for the 2.5 hour remainder of our journey home.

By all accounts, the 2011 vintage in Bordeaux is extremely mixed. Without doubt, the 2010 Burgundy vintage has produced stunning, concentrated, fresh and intense wines that are absolutely dripping in terroir. Can I ask those considering giving Bordeaux a miss this year to spend their usual budget for those wines on Burgundy instead? Pretty please?? This just might turn out to be the finest thing in your portfolio.

The Fog Clears to Reveal the Greatness

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 19:15:00 +0000

A modest message in the wall of a Meursault back street, yet to ignore it would be to bypass some of the world's finest Chardonnays

It's been a fine day in Burgundy, starting with thick fog in Corberon. The fog retained its density to the outskirts of Beaune before it lifted, revealing the glowing slopes of the Cotes, mist edging the vines in white.
First stop was Lafarge in Volnay. Tasting Buddy had stayed at home. He cannot secure an allocation of these wines and decided to do the family thing back at the gite instead. It seems to me that, increasingly, this will be the story with burgundy. Global demand for these wines is growing exponentially; Asia is diversifying, as testified by buses full of visitors from South East Asia.

The Lafarge cellars are a great place to crack one's cranium with some force. The people who built these chambers cannot have been much bigger than Bilbo and friends. Standing for an hour to taste from the barrels that reside here can result in much stiffness in one's spine. But, my-oh-my, it is worth it. This was a succession of the finest Pinot Noirs: super-sculpted art forms of ravishing fruit.

Tasting over, I stepped into the street and the fog had caught up with me, the sunshine gone. I popped back to Corberon to collect Victoria for her to drop me at my next appointment and the drive across the plain's flatness was surreal in the mist, the pigeons flying over the fields seeming directionless, the bits of landscape coming and going like dreams.

I was asked by a client some years ago why I never talk about the vintages and domaines that do not perform, are unworthy of selection for a Bowes Wine offer. Well, here it is..

Next visit was to a domaine that shall, of course, remain unnamed. And the wines were okay...fine....quite tasty. But premier crus from the 2010 vintage that are low in acidity, lacking intensity, short on concentration are the produce of a wine maker not trying sufficiently hard. And this is a domaine that has, in the past, produced some truly excellent bottles. Sad to say, there's no chance of me offering these for the foreseeable future.

Lunch was in a grill restaurant on the main Dijon road out of Beaune and with all the family/s. We sat and watched the fog finally lift, the sky's greyness change incrementally to blue, the sun return the colour to the extensive and mono-cultural landscape outside the restaurant's window.

Tasting Buddy and I pegged it north to Gevrey and the cellars of Rossignol-Trapet. This domaine is now certified biodynamic and, tasting the wines, one gets the sense of their purity; that one is tasting a purity of Pinot Noir fruit unsullied by human intervention. These are achingly beautiful wines in 2010: super-true to their origins. We sampled exceptionally impressive village, premier cru and grand cru wines, culminating in a properly masculine, smoky and complex Chambertin.

Then it was back to white wine territory: the village of Gamay and the Domaine Marc Colin. Wine making here is impeccable. St Aubin fruit in the hands of someone as talented as Damien Colin can trump many a wine from the more celebrated communes nearby, and at a fraction of the cost at that. Again, the white premier cru En Monceau was the one I'll be picking, intense, super-mineral and age-worthy as it is.

Lastly...a visit of the kind one looks forward to for months; a producer of white wines that could compete with pretty much anything made anywhere and still shine. Lafon, Coche-Dury, Ramonet are names well-known around the world and command prices that put them within reach of the super-rich only. Yet Patrick Essa at the Domaine Buisson-Charles in Meursault crafts Chardonnays that can live at least as long and offer as much pleasure. They are wines I buy every year and the 2010s are quite extraordinary.

We left Meursault with two fine bottles generously donated by Patrick: a 2007 Meursault Vieilles Vignes and a 1995 Meursault Les Tessons and I sit now in Corberon tying this post with a glass of the latter in my hand. It defines Chardonnay's potential to a T. I am tired; I am, happy. And venison terrine has just been placed in front of me, thus I sign off in anticipation of a Good Feed.

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 15:54:00 +0000

Mushroom found growing in a wood near our house in Corberon

We are having an afternoon off, for which I am really quite grateful. Towards the end of our last tasting before lunch today, I was starting to feel in need of forty winks and, indeed, back at the gite after fifteen minutes of grazing on goose rillettes and some rather fine venison terrine, plus a mouthful of cheese or two, I fell soundly asleep on the sofa, despite the fact that the children - all five of them - were engaged in energetic antics nearby.

Thus far, we have visited the following producers: Bachelet-Monnot; Paul Pillot; Morey-Coffinet; Etienne Sauzet; Francois et Antoine Jobard; Joseph Voillot; Louis Boillot; Bouchard Pere et Fils and Remi Rollin. It has made for hard pleasures!

What have we discovered to date? That 2010 is certainly an extremely fine vintage for both red and whites wines in Burgundy. It may well fall firmly into the "great" category. Reds are aromatic, crisp, rich, vivid, energetic and, perhaps most importantly, thoroughly beautiful. Whites are rich 'n' crisp, fresh, lively. Wines of both colours are some of the most terroir-clear liquids I have ever encountered.

And to be frank it's all a bit depressing. The market that is currently suffering is that for wines costing £300 to £500,... but that is exactly where the clever money goes for the really fine burgundy from domaines that haven't been so widely touted by the press that prices have become (perhaps artificially) inflated.

Example: the wines of Jean-Pierre Charlot at the Domaine Joseph Voillot should really be bought by burgundy lovers year in year out. They are always stunningly fine (as a bottle of 1992 Pommard Rugiens, donated by Jean-Pierre, proved at dinner last evening. It was an extremely tricky vintage and many of the wines have, by now, fallen over. This Pommard, on the other hand, was bright ruby in colour, complex, fresh and fascinating).

Jean-Pierre's 2010s are very great wines: glittering, rich, heavenly-scented beauties that combine elegance, gorgeous aromatics and excellent potential for cellar age. Yet already I baulk slightly at trying to sell £450 a case Cote de Beaune red. As one who has tasted these wines and feels utterly duty bound to bring them to Bowes Wine clients, I find myself slightly concerned by the response with which an offer might be met. It seems to be that wine collectors currently either want to buy the budget values at £120 to £200, or the creamy top at £750 plus.

Add to all these ruminations the fact that we sell 10% of the value of our annual Bordeaux offer in burgundy wine each year and one ends up feeling a tad blue. What's happened to all the true wine lovers that are looking for super-fine wines that offer great value regardless of where that wine is grown? And what happened to trusting one's wine merchant when he says he/she has found something spectacular? I reckon the answer to this second question is "Parker happened". The Amercan's publications have presented the consumer with a great deal of information; more than the average consumer could ever assimilate. Yet rather than freeing up the consumer and broadening his/her tastes and, ultimately, wine portfolios, it seems to have created a desire for the familiar, areas of ignorance being avoided like the plague. And even as a wine merchant who comes to the region every year for a week and one who drinks and tastes the wines with great frequency, I often find myself wondering whether there are more questions than answers in this extraordinary wine growing place. Familiarity is quite possibly an erroneous and ephemeral state when it comes to Burgundy and, indeed, burgundy. Please do not fear ignorance in this regard. Cherish it...and dive in with both feet!

Arrival in Burgundy; Sunshine and a Few Bottles

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 16:28:00 +0000

Corberon, where lizards are still enjoying the late autumn sunshine

We undertook the long drive to Burgundy yesterday and enjoyed brilliant sunshine the entire way.

It was cold last night; cold enough to leave stubborn ice on the windscreens of the cars.

Tasting Buddy and I have been accompanied by our families and we've taken a house in a village called Corberon situated on the plain outside Beaune. The house is big and sits in its own park-like garden and is accessed down a winding drive. The swimming pool is closed up for winter, alas; the children would have enjoyed it this afternoon as it has been unseasonably warm. We took lunch outside and had all removed our jumpers by the time the first cheese was cut.

I felt in need of a glass of wine last evening following the long car journey that brought us here and, on arrival, had that desire fulfilled on being handed a glass of 2007 Chassagne Vergers from Guy Amiot. It's a lovely rich wine, wearing an oaky nuance at the moment, finishing with a saline lick of minerality.

The red that followed was the 2003 Nuits Vaucrains of Robert Chevillon, which started remarkably pure and wholly burgundian, not something one can bet on with the wines of this vintage. From its uncorking it did, however, display some hard and slightly bitter tannins and after an hour-and-a-half, the fruit started leaching away, leaving something altogether less pleasureable.

1995 Hermitage Blanc from the Domaine Remizieres is now drinking beautifully and offers a lime-y experience on both nose and palate. This is one rich, wonderfully textured white.

Tomorrow the tasting starts and we are straight in at the deep end, with appointments from 08h30 through to supper time. I anticipate a tiring yet rewarding day. The word is that these '10s are something pretty special.

A Charity Do; a Caffeine-Fuelled Dash North; Late to the Convivium

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 08:27:00 +0000

Watching rising waters pouring over the weir at Chollerford

I have been intending to pen a post for some time, but have found the path to the blogosphere paved with distractions.

We recently helped in the organisation and hosting of a wine tasting at Vintners Hall in London for a fantastic charity of which my brother-in-law is chairman: EMpower, an organisation that seeks to turn around the lives of children growing up in the emerging markets, giving them the opportunity to lead productive lives, thereby contributing to the communities from which they come.

And believe me when I say that it did take quite some organisation! Jonathan (the b-in-l) first called me to discuss such an event pretty much a year ago, shortly afterwards suggesting that the evening take the form of a tasting of wines from the BRICS countries. I must have been in an especially chipper mood that day, as I agreed. What an excellent idea!

Well, the reality was rather trickier than the agreeing. Prising wine out of a Russian winery proved to be exceptionally hard, local laws stipulating thaht no more than five bottles of samples of any one wine can be shipped in a single shipment. DHL were scratching their heads; we were simply pulling the hair from ours (and those who know me will understand that I do not have that many left to pull).

We had managed to land the tasting in a small window in the exceptionally hectic diary of Jancis Robinson, who very kindly agreed to come along and be our guest of honour.

As it turned out, it was a fabulous event: 160-or-so people assembled for a blind tasting of the BRICS wines, followed by an "open" tasting of a range of Daily Drinker bottles.

We had offered up a couple of Daily Drinker memberships as prizes for the blind part of the tasting, assuming that someone would (whether by luck or judgement) manage to guess the origins of all five pairs of wines (grouped together in couples, one red, one white). And no one did. Not a single person. When sheets had been marked, the details of those who had come closest were dropped into a "hat" and two names were duly pulled by Jancis.

Jancis gave a very well-received speech decorated with anecdotes about her time as a wine writer and a very jolly time was had by all. Jancis's write-up of the event can be viewed here.

I had intended to stay the night in one of the Vintners' bedrooms, but the call of the John Buchan Food and Wine Society was too strong. I had spat assiduously all evening and the moment the Hall was clear, I hopped into my car and, fuelled by regular doses of high octane energy drinks, made it to our lodging in Northumberland at 02h50.

I should explain. By a supremely shoddy piece of organisation on my part, I had managed to merge the dates for the second evening of the JBFWS with the BRICS tasting. By the time I arrived, the three regulars had enjoyed two evenings of Henry's extraordinary cooking and, if not an ocean, then a sizeable sea of fine wine. Luke had even caught a 17lb salmon. Clearly, I was playing catch-up on a montrous scale.

I cannot remember eating breakfast the next morning, but we were happily met and proceeded to the banks of the North Tyne reasonably sharpish. The water was in fine fettle: high and dark (dark being the Tyne's usual state), but clear and distinctly fishy looking.

Two fish I lost one in the morning, one shortly after lunch. The second was met with a reaction bordering on despair. I heaved myself heavily from the water and went to find sympathy from the rest of the crew. What I found instead was a wide-eyed Luke standing on the bank with a 20lb salmon at his feet. Very kindly, he suggested that I slip into the water just where he'd left off. I didn't need a second asking...

It was but 10 minutes thereafter that my fly stopped and a raising of the rod to lift the fly from the rock I thought perhaps had intercepted it was met with the crazed run of what turned out to be a 15lb fish. It was a spirited fight. At one stage, she flew upstream towards me and, reeling hard, I was sure for a moment that she was off.

Henry confited a part of the fillet that evening and it was absolutely spectacular. Hand-chopped steak tartare was also scintillating and we poured 1982 Lynch-Bages after it (pure, resolved, with mild, silk-like tannin and beautiful blackcurrant flavour), as well as the 2002 Vosne Brûlées from the defunct Domaine René Engel (soft, airy, elegant), the 1966 Château Calon-Ségur (streets ahead of another bottle from the same source: cedary, red-fruited, delicious), the 2003 Valbuena Vega Sicilia (muscular in this company; complex; very fine).

Earlier, we had enjoyed bottles of 2001 Chassagne 1er Cru Les Champgains from Guy Amiot (perfectly à point; nutty and terroir-laden) and my last 1999 Beaucastel Blanc (a wine I thought had finally perhaps become a bit cidery...but then, after all the Red Bull I had consumed the night before, it is possible that my taste buds weren't 100% in order!

We finished with a half of 1990 Doisy-Dubroca, a half that wasn't quite right as it gave something of a loud pop when opened. The 2005 Banyuls Cuvée Leon Parcé from Domaine de la Rectorie was quite brilliant with the steak tartare.

But whlist we ate, we could hear the rain falling on the roof and windows, rain that persisted for much of the night. In the morning, two of our party of four set sail in a hire car for Abergavenny and a food festival. Luke and I, having thought we would be in the money, with the river to ourselves and stuffed with fat fish, arrived on the bank to discover a swollen flood.

The river grew through to lunchtime. We barbecued some fillet steak and had a couple of glasses of wine. Weary, we nodded off, me in the hut, Luke on the grass outside. On waking we found the river still rising. It was as the blowing of the final whistle. We packed away what gear we had and set off for home.

Could we host the JBFWS more than once a year? Indeed, should we? Would it be wise? (Many levels to this last question, including medical!) Not sure. What I do know is that I miss it when it's gone.

Empty Nets; Full Pleasures

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 08:24:00 +0000

Looking upstream from the head of the mighty Gaffer's Pool on the River Findhorn

I was in the north of Scotland last week on a boys' fishing sojourn, probing the dampness between the Findhorn's banks for the salmon that made no effort to hide their presence, sloshing, porpoising and jumping as they so frequently did. Looked after by a pair of tolerant young girls who cooked us high-protein meals at the top and bottom of the day and thereafter cleaned up after us, we ate and drank extremely well and fished hard: two hours before breakfast, then out again, halting only for barbecue lunch at the river's edge and the occasional cigar (actually, it is possible to fish down a pool smoking a cigar, but one has to hold it in one's mouth when casting and then either hold one's breath or inhale a great deal of fuming Havana up one's nose).

Everyone caught. Just not me. Come the final day, I had a "moment", standing in the water, slumped in my waders, utterly taken by despair. Half a day on the Tweed on the way up, four-and-a-half days on the Findhorn once there and all I'd had was three fish on and off again, with one or two other pulls, tweaks, blips or tugs, and that on favourable water with fish present.

Admittedly, no one found the fish that responsive. Yet everyone caught...except me. I have been forced into becoming rather philosophical...

We lunched with a client yesterday, a client who very kindly brought along a bottle of mature claret: 1990 Chateau Lascombes. I'd already opened and decanted a 2004 Domaine de Chevalier. Thinking a modest glass of white might be in order in the run up to being seated at table, I heaved the cork from a bottle of 2003 Clos des Papes Blanc. It's not a wine for everyone and wasn't 100% the client's cup of rose oolong, so I opened a 2006 Meursault: the Perrières from Boyer-Martenot. Here are some notes:

2004 Domaine de Chevalier, Pessac-Léognan
Almost opaque. For some time after opening, the aromatics are really pretty suppressed. After a couple of hours, classic gravelly, mocha aromas started emerging with rather more gusto, to combine with blackcurrant and spiced black cherry fruit. I also found hints of dark chocolate wood, biscuit, tomato and charcoal. There are also notes of ink and cedar. Altogether cool and highly complex already. The palate is very, very cool, very elegant, of sloe and blackcurrant. Both concentrated and extremely mineral, this shows a little, quite grippy and peppery tannin. Very long wine. Fresh and very pretty; very proper. And a style I very much like.

1990 Château Lascombes, Margaux
Deep mahogany bowl with a gold cast to the rim. The nose is really very smoky, the smoke laid over piquant red fruits. Aromas of dried herbs and a hint of orange came out later on. Palate is fresh, with a hint of those herbs again. Nice length and this gains in size and intensity. It also opened up steadily for two hours at least. There is grip here. A cool wine and a long one. A touch mineral. Fabulous finish. Complex and very good.

The 2003 Clos des Papes white is an amazing thing: pale in colour, still seeming quite secondary, with no hint of funky nuttiness or lanolin. Lime pastilles, yes and a myriad other fruits. This still has a remarkable future ahead of it. It is very much best served pretty warm: 18 degrees or so.

The 2006 Meursault 1er Cru Les Perrières from Boyer-Martenot does suffer from a degree of bottle variation. Some seem overly young, some spot on, the odd one flat and dull. How irksome! The one I opened yesterday was utterly tickety-boo: nutty; ready; hint of lime flower, then very mineral.

Lunch lead on to a distinctly dozy pm.

Mother

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Wed, 10 Aug 2011 19:38:00 +0000

I find within myself the tendency to believe, when dwelling on such things (not often, it must be said; perhaps once a month at a most generous estimate) that our vinegar fungus (mère, in the French tongue) is a contented entity.

To give you a brief, potted history (in so doing I fear I have no choice, "brief" and "potted" being the extent of my understanding in this matter), the blessed organism was given to us some eight years ago in the City of Bristol by a friend from across the Channel (French being both his nationality and native tongue). Prised from its resting place, abbreviated with stout kitchen scissors, a portion of its mortal essence was placed into our hands and our care for as long as we both shall live.

In turn, our friend (going by the name of Xavier, as they are wont to do in that country of romance, poetry and strong cheese) was given custody of his maternal share not by his mother, indeed, but rather his grandmama, she having taken delivery of the organism in her youth and nurtured it well into her ninth decade. (One can quite easily find oneself believing that one's own dear mère shared a common ancester with the noble mushroom that gave of itself to slake the thirst of the Son of God as he hung bleeding on the hill of Golgotha, such longevity do they endure.)

We have been good to our piquant friend. His first meal in the period of our guardianship was a more-than-generous pouring from a magnum of 1990 Chateau Lafite. Subsequent quenching has been both considered and loving. And our reward is a fiery juice, blood red and fruit-filled as one can only derive from a fungus that has truly become a part of one's family.

Mortality may have us firmly in her grip, but I live in hope that appreciative others may tend this secret garden as we, Xavier and Xavier's grandmère have done for more than a century. Her's is a benevolent and passive presence.

Croquet and Black Rubber

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Wed, 13 Jul 2011 10:33:00 +0000

Sand gives way to limestone in the soils to the north of Châteauneuf-du-Pape

The length of Pall Mall is festooned with smart clubs, all offering the chance to step out of the hurly-burly of the street outside (more or less of a hurly burly, one wonders, than when the area was frequented by those playing that eponymous game, a forerunner to modern croquet (in itself a savage game of violent emotional swings and roundabouts)), an opportunity to sit and think and talk and, oft-times, consume something in the way of both F and B.

I assisted in the hosting of a second wine tasting in the street the other evening. The first had been a rehash of the so-called Judgement of Paris, in which we compared top wines from Bordeaux and California of the same vintage: 1990. This time the requested theme was an investigation of the Syrah-Shiraz grape and the wines made there from and the event was preceded by a degree of email banter about suitable wines to be included. It was also to be held one door down from the previous event, giving rise to the hope that this process might turn out to be ongoing: an extremely grand and drawn-out equivalent to the pub crawls of our youth.

We convened in a private room at the club and palates were immediately and thoroughly cleansed by the application of cold champagne. I had arrived several hours earlier and had set up tasting mats, glasses (I had brought my own, as I thought the club's stemware not quite up to the grandeur of the liquids we were to be pouring), tasting sheets, drop-stops, pencils etc. and had then repaired to my hotel, a short taxi ride distant.

Quickly showered and clothes changed, I returned to the club perhaps an hour-and-a-half before the tasters were due and got on with the business of double decanting the wines (a process by which one carefully tips the wine into a decanter or (in this case) a clean glass jug and off any lees that it may be hiding. One then washes out the bottle with clean water and returns the decanted wine into its original container, thereby ensuring that a) one keeps track of which wine is which, b) one is serving clean wine and c) the liquid has had an adequate opportunity to breathe).

I had decided that the wines should be tasted in two flights, New World followed by Old World, and that within each flight wines should (as is common practice) be sampled yougest to oldest.

We began! First out was the 2006 Columella from Sadie Family Vineyards in Swartland, South Africa. Is this the best wine of that country? I'd be quite happy to believe it. Something of a cheat in this company, as it contains a 15% dollop of Mourvèdre, it is nevertheless cool, concentrated, very elegant and pure and, in style, really sitting somewhere between worlds Old and New.

Next up, a bottle that had been hand-carried to the tasting by one of those present: 2004 Dead Arm Shiraz from D'Arenberg in the McLaren Vale, South Australia. This is the figurehead wine of that winery, a producer that markets a string of wines red and white, none of which will disappoint. It has also become something of an Australian icon, helped, no doubt, by lofty scores from Robert Parker.

Perhaps the '04 is going through an introverted phase, or maybe it was resentful of its journey across town, but delicious as it was, I thought it a bit shy. It was, nevertheless, spicy, dark and a touch earthy, with rewarding, piquant tannin.

Next was a wine entirely new to me and one of those Cali wines that one can only obtain by being on the mailing list of the winery (and then only in tiny quantities). We had arranged for it to be delivered to the New York hotel room of the evening's generous host and he had carried it back to the UK in his check-in luggage: 2001 Seymour's Vineyard Syrah from Alban Vineyards in the Central Coast.

Why it took the Californians so long to plant Rhône varieties (as opposed to those of Bordeaux and Burgundy) in their Mediterranean climate, I know not. Yet this wine was proof that this change of focus is a Good Thing. Weighing in at 15.8%abv, with breathing the heat diminished, leaving aromas of smoke and menthol, tomato purée, spearmint and leather. The palate showed lovely purity and mineral touches to the creamy fruit.

Back to Australia for the final New World pair and a fascinating comparison betwen the two longest-established icons of the country: Hill of Grace and Grange. We sampled the 1999 and 1982 vintages respectively and I thought it very interesting to see such polar opposites side-by-side, the one - Grange - the model of Australian wine making (inter-regionally blended and a wine essentially constructed in the winery after harvest), the other the product of a single block of vines and made with as "hands off" an MO as possible. My sympathy, perhaps unsurprisingly, lay with the Henschke and it was that wine that I found most appealing, all dark spices, meat and mint, with its cool red-and-black fruited palate. The 1999 Hill of Grace is, perhaps, only recently come into its window of maturity. There is certainly a great future ahead for this wine.

The 1982 Grange is, of course, fully mature. I wondered whether the bottle was a fake, since Penfolds changed the name of this wine in 1990 from Grange Hermitage to, simply, Grange and this '82 bore the one word "Grange" on the label. I have subsequently discovered, however, that European labels of the 1980s were labelled this way, so am happy to believe that the wine was bone fide. It certainly came across as contemporary with its stated vintage, aged-looking as it was in the glass, offering aromas of singed hair, smoke, cold tea and smoked meat, a hint of caramel overlying. The palate still consistent, a hint of mint, of good grip and structure. Good wine.

In order the Old World bottles were: 1999 Cornas, Clape; 1990 Hermitage, Chave; 1990 Hermitage La Chapelle, Jaboulet, and 1990 Côte-Rôtie La Landonne, Guigal. And I must say that, impressive as the New World wines had been, it is difficult to come up with epithets suitable for application to these luminary fluids. I will copy below my tasting notes, taken on the night in question in order to make an attempt. Do please bear in mind that I was talking whilst scribbling, thus these notes are not the product of absolute concentration!

1999 Cornas
A savoury nose, a touch briary, giving a hint of tomato and ink. Ripe red and black fruits. The palate is really quite meaty. Mineral, with rich and quite serious tannins. Fresh and lively.

1990 Hermitage, Chave
Very rich nose and a very complex one. Mature. Note of singed hair and walnut. Mellow spice. Vegetal notes representing both decay and growth. And piercing, piquant red fruit. Cool and medium weight palate. Walnuts appear again. This is highly mineral, straight and fresh; really appetising. Dry leaf litter. Juicy, medium plus acidity. Presistent and almost metallic at the end. So fresh. Looks really mature in the glass. Highly complex and utterly lovely.

1990 Hermitage La Chapelle, Paul Jaboulet Aïné et Fils
Deep hued and still really quite red in colour. Tertiary aroams of offal, black rubber, meat and tomato purée; pepper and toasty gingerbread. The palate reveals cold tea flavours, as well as cooked beef. Richly, grippily tannic. Long, spicy and juicy-fresh. Mineral, rich and structured. This is one big and lovely wine!

1990 Côte-Rôtie La Landonne, Guigal
Very rich nose; very smoky. Black rubber and leather. Herbal notes and gingery spice. Tar. The palate is cool and medium weight. Very elegant mouthful; straight and bristling with minerality. Meaty; sweet spice. So complex. Richly structured. Fine grip and minerality. Busy wine and a very, very long one.

In my opinion, we left the best until last. All-in-all, an evening that I will remember for a very long time to come!

In Started In the Rain in Bordeaux and Went From There

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 12:21:00 +0000

A cool and persistently wet Sunday early in a Wiltshire June seems as good a place as any to talk about Bordeaux. From the depths of an en primeur campaign one gets a particular view of the market and a campaign like the present one (I say "like" although I cannot recall any precedent to this curiously unbalanced, sustained period of Bordeaux selling) offers the opportunity for merchants to guess as to where the future lies for this market.

So what is clear? Well, it is certain that interest in the "cream" will continue to rise; interest in the First Growths and their equivalents, super-Seconds and the aspiring lower classes. Whether bought to drink or to speculate, demand is rising as the newly wealthy economies develop a taste for all things luxury.

The pricing of such wines in each new vintage appears to fill the owners of the estates that produce them with a certain consternation. And if they subsequently release their wines at a notably higher price than the previous vintage, that release is met by howls of dismay and downright anger from merchants. Yet the fact of the matter is that each new vintage creates, in effect, a totally new range of products, a new range that demands an exercise in market research, price setting and marketing. It is really no different from a new Louis Vitton handbag or the next bling champagne cuvée.

Yet away from these shiny trophies the picture is rather different. There appears to be a widening fracture in the Bordeaux market as the top wines pull away in price and those beneath remain remarkably stable. I know we all want to drink Châteaux Latour, Lynch-Bages and Cos d'Estournel on a regular basis as, perhaps, we once did. But if we forget the names and focus on the quality instead, we all have the opportunity to drink as well as we did 10 years ago and at the same price. Second wines of the major châteaux are now better than most vintages of the grand vin from the decades of the '60s, '70s and even perhaps '80s.

Robert Parker recently stated that he considered investment in wine to be a travesty, gave a plea that we all stop engaging in such activity. I suggest that Parker's scoring system is at least patrially responsible for investment activity in the wine sector. It is like a Moody's or S&P rating that sets a wine's price and, for the consumer, has entrenched the widespread danger of a very little knowledge.

Scoring wines is in itself a travesty. Wine professionals and not-so-professionals analise wines in a pseudo-scientific way with their senses and apply scores based on the application of as professional a series of evaluations as they can manage, none of which concentrates on the single most important aspect of that wine from a consumer's point of view i.e. how much they're going to enjoy it. This has little or nothing to do with correct or otherwise levels of fruit, acidity, tannin or alcohol (unless there is glaring imbalance).

And this is a shame. A wine's fruit concentration is currently deemed an essentially desirable part of a wine's make-up when scoring thus, naturally, wines are becoming increasingly concentrated. Current by-words for quality in wine include: power; density; concentration; size. Less and less often one is told about a wine's elegance, poise and (what it should really most often be about) beauty.

In scoring wines, wine professionals are, at best, misleading the consumer, at worst lying to them. I say it has to stop!

There we are: an unstructured rant that started in Bordeaux and was diverted to wine scoring. Now, the rain looks as though it's here for the rest of the day, so I think I'll dig out some bits of feather and fur and wrap them into something that a fish might find attractive during one of my upcoming salmon forays...

Linen Eyelashes and Musky Sap

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Mon, 30 May 2011 16:34:00 +0000

I've just been out for a walk. It was the sort of walk that becomes essential in late afternoon to someone who has been indoors all day caring for an ill child. Isabella was awake much of last night and, after a short period of sickness, spent the hours of darkness very restless and with a raging temperature. That state has continued today. So, feeling as though my joints were full of dust and that my eyelashes were made from linen, I strode out down the lane.

I soon passed an old man who muttered "lousy day". I suspect he was from the Camping and Caravanning Club ground down the hill by the canal and was dismayed at the weather afflicting his annual holidays, so cheered him with a "hmm, miserable".

At first the tow path of the canal seemed to have that sterile look about it that it often has in winter, when any growth is negative growth and the wildlife has started playing the defensive game of short days lacking in sunlight.

Getting into my stride I quickly noticed it was not so. Damp and grey it may have been, yet the musky-sap of elderflower on the breeze quickened my mood and I saw that there were rabbits everywhere, of all sizes: generations of them enjoying the shower-fresh grass.

And as I climbed Rusty Lane, pressed in on by branches heavy with fat, green foliage, I started to get glimpses of the long view westwards where a moist mist filled the broad valley into the distance and the late-coming sunshine lit it the colour of okay, as in Everything's going to be okay; the rain has gone and it's all going back to how it was before, only better and more filled with life.

We've been drinking good and unusual wines as ever, but my liquid find of the moment has nothing whatever to do with grapes. I bought a bottle of organic beetroot juice from James White, that East Anglian company that markets such fine apple juice. I had my doubts, but since I love beetroot, I thought I'd give it a go. Wow, this stuff is good. Fractionally earthy and deliciously rooty, it has a remarkable sweetness to it. There is no doubt in my mind that I will buy this again. Besides, it renders Marys - whether Virgin or the full fat version - very bloody indeed!

As I walked through the village's small estate a group of boys were playing cricket on the grass and I am sure I heard them speaking Polish. Nearing home, I thought about the bottle of Larnaudie-Hirault Blanc de Noirs champagne that I placed in our drinks fridge yesterday and I calculated the time at which I would have to remove it from the fridge for me to have a glass at the perfect temperature as I cook Thai curry, waiting for Victoria to finish reading to the least tired of our children.

From Treacle Tart to Lemon Meringue

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 15:30:00 +0000

On the way to taste the wines of Jean-Luc Thunevin in a St Emilion side street. Note the Wistaria, which is adorning the facades of many a chateau at the moment

The vines have become a great deal more leafy in the last week. The summery conditions are blasting them into their full growth cycle and there is an almost tangible sense of burgeoning vitality about the vineyards. If there was absolute silence, I suspect one could hear vines shoots unfolding.

I set off this morning for a 09h45 appointment at Vieux Chateau Certan. I saw her - or perhaps him - again: the stork. She/he has now landed on the pylon and seems to be biding her/his time for some approaching event, possibly the ripening of an inchoate urge to get building its twiggy platform.

I was early, despite missing a turning and being trapped in see-saw morning rush hour traffic. Not wanting to arrive unexpected at VCC, I went instead to Chateau l'Evangile nearby, ignoring the signs that an appointment was essential and blagged my way into the tasting room. Only one wine here, the Grand Vin, that represents something like 80% of the harvest. It is absolutely gorgeous: ravishing black fruit of the sexiest sort.

As the day went on, I discovered that the extraordinary terroir of this hallowed corner of St Emilion/Pomerol has met with the most stunning success.

I was now dead on time for VCC and M Thienpont, in his quiet, rather shy way is evidently extremely pleased with the results of the 2010 harvest. HIs wine, often one of the most burgundian of Bordeaux, is a Rembrandt-like masterpiece, destined for the classical corner of collectors' cellars.

In steadily climbing temperatures I drove to the bottom of St Emilion town and then up the winding, impossibly narrow and twisting lane that rises sharply to the partially troglodytic chateau that surmounts the road that enters St Emilion from the east: Ausone. One tastes a string of wines here from properties owned by various Vauthier family members. None is less than superb in 2010. The Grand Vin and its second wine - Chapelle d'Ausone - are magnificent.

The streets of St Emilion were fully warmed to summer heat by the time I dropped back down the hill from my tasting.

Next, I was back up to the plateau and a visit to the UGC tasting at Chateau La Couspaude. The place was rammed with tasters: a heated mass of multi-lingual humanity all scribbling and spitting like mad. There were some profoundly successful wines here and at my next visit, Chateau La Pointe in Pomerol, where I tasted the UGC Pomerol wines. Some deep, pure, intense and mineral wines of vast length; some mean, charm- and fruitless liquids. I tasted my first ever Thai wine at the marathon tasting at Chateau Angelus and I preferred it to a number of the St Ems and Pomerols!

The Angelus tasting is always something of a marathon, so I decided that, this year, I would be very picky about what I sampled. Bellevue - a property adjoining Angelus across the road - is exeptional. Angelus itself is really quite seriously frightening. I might buy this for my great grandchildren if I can find a cage strong enough to hold it in the meantime.

On my way to Angelus, I had stopped by Canon to taste one of my favourite wines of this bank of Bordeaux and they were showing their 2010 alongside their 2009. They make for a fascinating comparison. I cannot for the life of me say that one is better than the other. Both are simply stunning.

Lots more tasting took place this afternoon. Temperatures were not far off 30 degrees C. Chateau owners are already talking about drought!

Last of all I arrived early at Cheval Blanc and, despite the hour, was welcomed and allowed to taste the wines: Tour du Pin, Le Petit Cheval and Cheval Blanc itself. These are really fine liquids. Tour du Pin is gorgeous, yet the two Cheval wines stole the show with their dry, expressive, finely turned fruit and extreme length and minerality.

I have, of course, to mention Yquem, which I tasted inside the chateau of Cheval Blanc. What a stunner! Initially I thought it much more like the '08 than '09 i.e. floral, airy and citrus. However, with more examination, I reckon it's more like a blend of '08 and '09. There is butterscotch and lemon meringue here, nutty botrytis married to that floral aspect. What a way to end a day!

The end is in sight. I wake tomorrow and drive to St Emilion where I am to taste the wines of Jonathan Maltus. And from there I head off to Bergerac and my flight home. I must say that I am profoundly looking forward to stepping through the door in Wiltshire and back into the bosom of family Bowes!

Day 3 in Bordeaux; A Stork, A Treacle Tart and More Fine Wine

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 16:26:00 +0000

The tasting room at Haut-Brion; a sample being poured with the chateau visible through the doorway

We drove south this morning under pale blue skies that have remained locked over Bordeaux all day. It seems that flights paths bisect one another somewhere over Bordeaux’s southern suburbs, for the blue above us was criss-crossed by vapour trails like the lattice-work pastry on my mother’s treacle tart.

Then, a few minutes ago as I approached my hotel, I spotted a stork circling an electricity pylon, sizing it up as a nesting site, no doubt. So it has been a day for looking up. And my taste buds have been examining the heights of some very lofty wines indeed.

First visit was Haut Brion. We were early, so sat in a courtyard under the chateau’s cliff-like walls. When allowed access, we were presented with exceptionally fine red wines, although I must say that the HB itself was very hard to taste. The whites were very delicious; quite forward and plush, but showing the most alluring fruit.

From the Pessac suburbs, I headed back to the rocade, the ring road that encircles the city of Bordeaux. Bordeaux’s airport, Merignac, was not so far away, and that was our next stop as Tasting Buddy had to catch a flight home.

I drove back south on my own, took the Leognan turning off the rocade and headed for Malartic-Lagraviere where the wines of the region are being shown this year.

“Get the reds done first,” I told myself, “then you can dissolve all that tannin with a plate of lunch and get the easy work of the whites done thereafter”.

The reds were quite a different showing to those I’d been sampling in the Medoc the previous two days. They are much more like the ‘09s: creamier than the Medocs; more lush and rounder. Many are utterly delicious and full of mineral terroir.

Lunch was accompanied by a magnum of 1990 Malartic. On opening, the wine came across as a fully mature, soft claret. Second look and it was already oxidising. It wouldn’t have been much later that the bottle was undrinkable.

The post-prandial flight of white wines was a pleasure. Ripe, bright fruit and varying degrees of mineral intensity, the best with great solid finishes to their exceptional length, along with enough acidity to keep the palate interested. Some are quite superb; some at the more modest end of the spectrum highly impressive.

I thought about going for another lunch, but instead contented myself with a plate of cheese in the garden and a cup of coffee. The sun was beating down, the uniform of the international wine merchant very much including sunglasses today.

I set off at a leisurely pace for Barsac. I was early for a meeting at Climens, but a 'phone call told me that they were quite prepared for my arrival. We tasted 8 or 9 casks that represented various passes by the pickers through the vineyard. Each sample of profoundly different from each other. Trying to extrapolate what the end result will be is not entirely straightforward, but the keyword for most of the samples was delicacy, airiness, elegance. this'll be a beaut.

And now back at the hotel after a hideous drive through the Bordeaux rush hour with the car telling me that the outside temperature was 31 degrees C. Whatever the truth, it is certainly very hot for the time of year. Can we be in for another vintage of the century?? Again?!??

Bordeaux Day 2

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 17:14:00 +0000

Something of the Scottish baronial style about Lascombes; little Scottish about the weather, however: blue skies over Margaux

We have just now crawled back into the hotel at the exceedingly welcome end of a predictably tiring day. Our mettle has been tested; our stamina fully explored. We are weary adventurers, yet we feel as though we have come out on top, just about, and have a much better picture of this vintage in the Medoc.

There was a low, thin stratum of mist covering the Medoc's vineyards this morning as we motored north for a 09h00 appointment at Chateau Calon Segur. I wished more than anything to stop and snap off a couple of photographs with the estuary - sun above - in the background and vines from the foreground back smothered with a ghostly covering of vapour, soon to melt in the rising temperature.

Calon is a study in cassis purity; utterly lovely. We also got to taste Chateau Capbern Gasqueton, which is under the same ownership as Calon. It is also quite stunning, although without the impeccable DNA of Calon's noble terroir.

After Calon it was a case of bracing oneself for the UGC onslaught. We motored south to St Julien and Chateau Branaire Ducru where the Pauillacs, St Juliens and St Estephes are being shown this year. It was, in short, a bunfight.

There are more people than ever in Bordeaux to taste this new vintage and most of them seemed to be in the tasting room at Branaire this morning c. 10am. The inconveneince of having to face densely packed humanity paled into insignificance against the quality of the wines we were sampling. I cannot emphasize enough how beautiful are a high proportion of the wines of the northern Medoc. Stand-outs are almost too many of name, but the Pichons, like mismatched twins, the one very much male (Baron), the other super-elegant and very much female (Comtesse). Lynch, Beychevelle, Gruaud, Langoa- and Leoville-Barton, Poyferre, Talbot...too much! Black tongues, grey teeth, we moved on.

We were to lunch at Sociando-Malet. I'd never visited before. Directions were drive to Pauillac and head north and stick to the estuary whenever there was any choice in the matter. Bingo! Soc-Mal hoved into view. We pulled up plates of daube of beef and glasses of '03 Soc-Mal and took our business out onto the terrace overlooking the vineyard and, ultimately, the estuary. What an amenable place to break bread!

We tasted the wines after lunch and were fascinated to compare the '09s with the '10s: our first opportunity. Both are stunning here, by the way. Which is better? Who cares?! Both are quite fabulous, represent, perhaps, wines for differing moods. Don't stop! More to do!

We hared down to Latour. This stuff is magisterial. The Grand Vin not a blockbuster so much as a Henry Moore sculpture, hewn of grape, dramatic, chiselled, achingly pure and of the utmost class: awesome, in the true sense of the word.

We subsequently tasted all the Margaux wines at the UGC tasting (some duds, some utterly mindbending; Rauzan-Segla quite extraordinary and probably the best I have ever tasted from here; one of the wines of the trip to date).

Next the Sauternes. Some a bit too pretty-pretty, a few really intense. Best for me: two Doisys - Daene and Vedrines - Coutet, Suduiraut, Nairac.

Latterly a smattering of Medocs and Haut Medocs. At one point (and to make a point) I lowered my Riedel glass to the table slightly more firmly than usual and the stem snapped, driving the shattered edge off glass into my thumb, which proceeded to flow redder, but in no less concentrated a fashion, than the 2010 clarets. I thought enough was enough and retired hurt.

Just enough time to stop for a quick glass of very lovely de Souza champagne at La Winery on the way home. This extraordinary light and airy warehouse contains a fabulous wine shop, library, bar etc. i.e. pretty much all one needs in wine-related study and pleasure.

And now, an end to this post. We must away to supper and reinvigorate ourselves for the days to come. I am on my own from now on as my current Tasting Buddy heads back to Blighty tomorrow. I will need all the strength I can muster if I am to complete the week of tasting unscathed!

Day One in Bordeaux; First Thoughts on the 2010s

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 16:53:00 +0000

Chateau Pontet-Canet floats between gravel drive and sky

A pleasant introduction to the qualities of any given vintage is the first day of the en primeur tasting week in Bordeaux. It's a day of reasonably relaxed visits to those chateaux that don't deign to show their wines at the big combined Union des Grands Crus tastings that take place on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. And it is an opportunity to sample what could well be some of the finest wines of the harvest. Today has conformed to these generalisations!

We started at Lafite at 09h00. We set off in good time and had to wait, hoping the weather would turn the way it was suggesting it might i.e. more of the blue bits of sky, less of the lumpy greyish bits. In this, too, we were lucky.

From Lafite, a short drive to Pontet-Canet and a tasting with Alfred Tesseron's young niece, who speaks English in a very Fulham accent (having lived there and in other locations in London for much of her life) and who was entirely charming.

P-C to Montrose. One starts to get the feeling that one is involved in a large organised dance for the entertainment of the Bordelais. One's paths cross the same people, one's conversations repeating with minimal tweaking: what do you feel about x wine; and what about y? ad infinitum.

Montrose to Mouton-Rothschild, the sun shining harder now, the rosemary bushes in Mouton's garden covered in their washed out blue blossoms, painted ladies and red admirals feasting on the early season nectar.

Mouton to Cos d'Estournel, the tasting finishing with an extremely welcome half glass of chilled (and extremely zippy) Hungarian dry Furmint. We invaded a boulangerie in Pauillac, buying quiche, tartines, chilled lager, a small pizza. We drove to the banks of the Gironde behind Beychevelle and took some time out between the woods and the water, the trees fulls of liquid birdsong, our spirits lighter than light.

Ducru-Beaucaillou, Leoville-Lascases, Margaux and Palmer have punctuated our afternoon. At Margaux Corinne Mentzelopoulous welcomed us and we talked at some length about her beloved beagles before we tasted the wines with her R&D guru, Marie.

We are steadily forming a picture of this vintage, in the Medoc at least. These are big wines; long-termers. They are crisp and juicy. They are highly and - in most of the wines we've tasted today - finely tannic. There's tension here and focus in the best. These are quite unlike the '09s, which were so easy to taste last year. These demand attention and concentration. The best will be quite extraordinary. More tomorrow!

Bordeaux Arrival; First Tastings

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 03:03:00 +0000

The little Dash 8 jolly-plane that had conveyed us from Southampton airport dropped through lumpen, bumpy clouds into Bergerac a little before 5pm yesterday. By the time we had picked up the hire car and driven to St Emilion it had started to rain in earnest.

There are many more tastings this year than hitherto; far too many, in fact, for one person to get through in a week. But an inviatation to Chateau Canon La Gaffeliere was too tempting an invitation to refuse, especially as the drive to our hotel was to take us within a few hundred yards of the chateau's door.

Once inside, we had the opportunity to taste most of the Niepperg wines: Aiguilhe, Clos de l'Oratoire, Canon La Gaff itself and La Mondotte, as well as the red and white of Domaine de Chevalier, plus the dry and sweet wines of Chateau Guiraud as well as one or two others.

Initial impressions? Well, I quickly realised that the tastings we have in store for us this week will require a great deal of concentration. The wines are exceedingly young, younger seeming than usual, even. And the reds are very tannic. Yet what we tasted last evening were rich wines of great length and freshness.

In another room, the count was offering some light (but distinctly delicious) food, as well as a few older vintages. Conscious we were to eat after checking in to our hotel, we merely grazed whilst we tasted/drank 2001 Domaine de Chevalier, 2000 Canon La Gaffeliere and 1997 La Mondotte, the first elegant and subtle, the second fresh and beautifully ready and the La Mondotte, from a double magnum, was corked. But once they had removed it and opened another it turned out to be mightily impressive: concentrated, complex and very delicious.

We hopped back into the hire car and were soon checked into our hotel in Blanquefort at the southern end of the Medoc. A short walk, indeed, was all it took for us to install ourselves in the Brasserie du Medoc. We ate well and drank some pretty basic, but welcome, Bordeaux wine.

One has the impression that the crowds are gathering, as if this week is going to be a very busy one. More's the pity that I've woken at 04h15 local time and cannot get back to sleep. At leat I have found time to scribble my first blog from Bordeaux!

Audrey Hepburn, Ducks' Butts and a Giant Bill

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 19:19:00 +0000

Above a panning shot taken from the ruined castle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the shaking of the camera not the result of Grenache withdrawal, rather the instability caused to anything larger than a medium-small invertebrate by the mistral, that muscular wind that is funnelled through the narrow gap of the nothern Rhône. It's good for the health of the vineyard, but rubbish for taking even a short bit of film. Or, on occasion, simply standing up for that matter.

I am back in Wiltshire after what feels like something of a whirlwind tour around the Rhône Valley. On Wednesday morning we enjoyed a minor lie-in before breakfasting, checking out of the hotel (why do so many French hotels smell of sewers?!?) and cruising off to Pegau.

Laurence Ferraud was in chatty mood, as was her father, who speaks in one of the most pronounced local accents I have yet heard, words ending in the letter n always attracting an appended g sound, vin sounding as vang etc. Their 2008 is a stunner, the 2009 outrageously funky and animal. This is the door one knocks on to get a mouthful of the most traditional wine of the appellation.

It's a brief drive up the hill to the Domaine Pierre Usseglio where Pierre's sons Thierry and Jean-Pierre are making increasingly profound liquids. Whilst a visit to the Pegau cellar is akin to walking into a (very welcoming) barn, the Usseglio cellar is so clean as to give off the ambience of a museum. They have had visitors asking them, whilst touring the winery, where they make the wines, the visitors unable to believe that the spotless barrels and untarnished floors and walls could be a place of work at all.

Serpents vivants, these are quite spectacular. The wines lie somewhere between traditional and modern. The "basic" cuvée deep and, well, Châteauneuf-like, albeit a very complex and brilliant example of its type. The cuvée Mon Aieul, 100% Grenache aged without any influence of wood old or young is an Audrey Hepburn of a wine and, as such, extraordinarily beautiful, glowing with the loveliness perhaps normally associated with wine to be found further north in the Côte d'Or. Then, lastly, the Cuvée Deux Frères, also all Grenache, wood aged and wilder, blacker, complex, demanding the utmost attention. Stuff like this is somehow belittling. Perhaps all great art is.

We departed and headed north to Mauves. It is the week of the Découvertes, a bi-annual (and enormous) wine tasting or, rather, series of wine tastings, organised to show off recent vintages of the Rhônes vinous secretions. A venue in Mauves was the home of the Cornas, St Joseph and St Péray tasting and it was a fine opportunity to see a few producers of distinction. We tasted reasonably hard for an hour or so, found some superb wine from all appellations shown and left with tongues stained black from young Syrah.

And on we went again, back to Beaune for dinner and a sleep. It was a toss up between two venues for dinner and the Cave de la Madeleine won. We drank a bottle of 2004 Beaucastel Blanc, then asked the proprietor for recommendations in our price range. A 2007 Gevrey-Chambertin 1er Cru Lavaux St Jacques of Lucien Lemoine was duly opened. It was, as the Aussies so succinctly put it, tighter than a duck's butt. I again hailed the owner and asked about another wine, this time a 2006 Nuits St Georges 1er cru Clos de la Maréchale. Ominously, as he opened it he related the information that, in Burgundy, the 2006 vintage was thought to be entering a period of dormancy and whaddayaknow? South-side duck was back on the menu.

One last try and monsieur at last produced something drinkable: a mature Rhône wine. Bear in mind that food in this establishment is pretty unexciting; that one visits for the wine list and relaxed ambience. Now consider the end result: a bill for 359 euros, with a couple of largely full bottles of undrinkable wine to take away. To say that we were mildy put out would be undercooking it. Further, to say that we won't be returning would be pretty much 100% spot on.

Morning time, and early kick off. 7.5 hours got me home. I am happy to say that satisfaction does hold sway. The good - sometimes wildly exceptional - meals outweighed the unexceptional - sometimes downright shameful - ones. And the wines. Ah. That was why we were there. And the wines were very good and often very exceptional indeed. I will pen an offer soon. And then I will work out the non-negotiable addenda to the Bowes personal portfolio. I have a feeling they will be many.

Many More Than Four and Twenty Black Birds and Indecent Levels of Fungi

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 22:35:00 +0000

Two green rabbits, one saying to the other, "Have they gone? Is it safe to come out?"

We drove into Avignon last evening for a beer with an old work mate of mine who is now in the pay of the UK's Chateau de Beaucastel importer. On the edge of town, in skies brightly illuminated by a sunset of orange and gold, a flock - the biggest I have ever seen, hundreds of thousands, perhaps a million strong - of starlings performing their extraordinarily well coordinated manoevers. Alas, we couldn't stop, but craned our necks. We were both staggered by the sight, feeling privileged to be party to this airborn dance.

We parked under the Palais des Papes and it was good to see the square again after a space of some years.

Returning to Orange, we paced the streets looking for a restaurant in which to eat, finally plumping for a place called Bec Fin, a French nickname for the woodcock, a bird of which I (and the French for that matter) am extremely fond. It was utterly miserable, outclassed by any number of school dinners I have the misfortune to remember. Drab, badly thought-out food in ever more tasteless platefuls. Even the wine was execrable. A meal time in the Rhone wasted, alas.

A waste that we more than made up for today. We rose at a civilised time, our first appointment being at Beaucastel barely 10 minutes from the hotel and scheduled for 9 o'clock. The '09s here are deep and intense, the whites unctuous and highly mineral liquids fit for a pleasure dome. Yet it was the '08s that really impressed, as I hadn't been expecting anything like the brilliance they were showing: cool, focussed, elegant and chocker with terroir. It seems that, as in Burgundy, 1999 has thrown up wines fit for the sybarites amongst us, whilst the 2008s offer something perhaps more coolly cerebral. Personally, I like both!

From Beaucastel we made our way to St Prefert. Isabel Ferrando was looking quietly pleased and gently confident. Her wines explained why. She has changed her style somewhat, now including the grape stems during crushing and fermentation. The wines are just as scintillating, yet perhaps fresher, more elegant. All cuvees were stunningly good, including the 2008 Auguste Favier (no Charles Giraud that vintage).

Our appointment at Clos des Papes had been cancelled, Vincent Avril having suffered a bereavement in the family: a double blow after the recent death of his father. Thus we found ourself with time on our hands and the determination to have a really good lunch. Perhaps such a thing would sweep away the sour memories of the last night's poor fare. We headed north to the small town of Mondragon and the restaurant that adherres it firmly to the foodies' map of the region: the mighty Beaugraviere.

And we didn't mess about. We both ordered the truffle menu and what indecent decadence followed. I started with heavily truffled scrambled eggs and sighed my way into a plate of equally tuberose beef cheek for a main course. Tasting Buddy had duck terrine and veal sweetbreads. We were both presented with a slab of the local brie, cut through with truffle like the icing through a child's birthday cake. And then they brought us pudding. And those little sweet things that magically appear just when one has decided that not a crumb more should pass one's lips for the next, oh, year-and-a-bit. The wine that accompanied our early courses couldn't have been finer: 1998 Cornas from Clape, a spicy, hugely complex red and utterly delicious. The wine list here is tome-like, spiced with exciting goodies and thoroughly reasonably priced.

We visited Giraud in the afternoon, Marie Giraud looking as tickled as Isabel Ferrando and for the same reasons. Her '09s stopped us dead in our tracks. Amazing stuff here and, once again, a magical 2008 followed. Why must the journalists do their level best to put people off buying these vintages? I really cannot understand it.

Last up and completely new to me was a visit to Domaine de Villeneuve and a meeting with its owner, Stanislas Wallut. Stan is a music loving wine making obsessive. He is straining every sinew to work his vineyards in the most sympathetic way possible, working a hectare of land with a horse for five days, rather than using a tractor, compacting the soil, and covering 3 hectares in a single day. His wines are very exciting and I will buy some if I can.

What were we doing for dinner, we were asked. We admitted the shame of our vast lunch and mentioned that we were very much hoping to keep our evening meal to a course or so, preferably something small and green. But we simply had to go along with Stan's recommendation, a visit to a friend of his who owns a place called Alonso in Sorgues, some 5 miles from Chateauneuf. And what a place; what food and wine! We of course had to have the four courses, many polkadotted with telltale black scraps of truffle. One does not choose here. One series of dishes for every diner. Yet in that beautiful room we had an exemplary meal and a beautiful bottle of 2008 Bandol Blanc from the Domaine Saint Anne.

We did a brief calculation and decided that it was well possible that we both may have ingested something over 5,000 calories today. We decided that we really didn't care and that return to Blighty would be return to the strictest of regimen. Or something. The memory of that particular bit of the conversation dims even now and may well be gone altogether in the morning...

Wobbly Legs and Salty Pork

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Mon, 28 Feb 2011 16:18:00 +0000

The mono-rail that lifted us up to the heights of Le Combard terraces of Cote-Rotie

We arrived in Beaune at 19h15 or so last evening after a drive that included an irritating betrayal by my SatNav. Some distance south of Calais I remarked to Tasting Buddy that I thought our present route was taking in sights not included in previous road trips to Burgundy and, indeed, a short time thereafter we started seeing signs to Paris...then Charles de Gaulle airport. And shortly after that, we found ourselves in stationary traffic somewhere near the centre of the French capital. A period of stress followed.

Fortunately the French attitude towards cities is to keep 'em small and it was perhaps only 40 minutes before we were ejected from Paris's south-eastern limits and we were able to continue our rapid progress Beaune-ward. (Interestingly, this morning I plugged Calais into this backstabbing machine and it relayed the information that it considered the journey from Beaune to the Chunnel to be five hours and thirteen minutes. I then stipulated that I wanted to go via Reims (i.e. avoiding Paris altogether). Its new estimate? Five hours and fourteen minutes. It seems that for the sake of a single minute the SatNav had decided that urban traffic jams necessary.)

Beaune was merely a useful stopping off point to break up our journey to the Rhone, so it was an early rise this morning for a dash south and a rendezvous at the Domaine Rene Rostaing, a dash that left us just enough time to grab a coffee and a croissant at a cafe in Ampuis before our first tasting.

I hadn't been to Rostaing before, although I have some experience of his extraordinary wines. M Rostaing is a wiry man with neat white hair and he has distinct opinions as to how to make the best from Cote-Rotie fruit. And that's exactgly what he does. His wines are clean and graceful; intense and - especially in the case of the Cote Blonde - really rather beautiful. It was a rewarding start to Day One.

A short drive took us to the domaine of Giles Barge and it was the man himself who ushered us into a parking spot. His son Julien appeared and together we tasted the 2009 vintage. We started with their cuvee of St Joseph and quickly moved on to the Cote Rotie Cuvee du Plessy, a wine of which we have offered several vintages in the past. And it's a doozy in '09. Sampling a number of different barrels of this wine it quickly became apparent that Barge has met with brilliant success in the vintage. These are utterly different to Rostaing's wines. They are more feral, perhaps more traditional; complex and exciting.

Giles talked animatedly about their new project: the Combard vineyard that they have slowly brought back from a thoroughly overgrown state. The Roman terraces has been annexed by the neighbouring forest and the clearance included the cutting down of sizeable trees. M Barge mentioned a mono-rail - the only one in Cote-Rotie - and I had visions of a Disney-style ride high above the River Rhone. An invitation did, indeed, have us riding high above the river, but with Julien on a sewing machine sized diesel engine, towing Tasting Buddy and me in a shallow wire basket up a slope that, at times, seemed to be on the cusp of becoming entirely vertical. Sitting, as I was, with my back to the slope for the upward journey, I had to wedge myself in place with locked thighs to prevent myself from dropping out of my seat onto Tasting Buddy's face thereafter to roll at high speed down to our point of origin, some hundred yards downslope. Thus by the time we climbed out of our basket at some altitude, my legs had been rendered entirely wobbly which, I found out, was not the ideal condition for legs expected to anchor one securely to an ancient and uneven Roman terrace. We sapped places for the descent.

We hurried south and lunch in Tournon, the twin of Tain l'Hermitage across the river: a vast salad followed by vastly salty and delicious pork. No time to pause! we eschewed coffee and sped off to Mercurol to taste with Philippe Desmeures, owner of the Domaine des Remizieres. We launched ourselves into a sampling session that included the 2008 and 2009 vintages and both re and white wines. There are a great many brilliant wines here and we will offer them happily.

Now installed in our hotel in Orange and about to head into Avignon for a (hopefully modest) nibble. Beaucastel at 09h00 tomorrow sharp, so need to be well rested!

Swings, Sweetbreads and Gnomish Twaddle

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 10:29:00 +0000

Somewhere in the Côte d'Or, October 2010

It's tasting season in the UK at the moment: a great time of year to rail against the injustices propagated by these events, none more so than the myriad primeur burgundy tastings. It becomes increasingly evident that clear and proper evaluation cannot be made in a room full of barrel samples in London. Different producers wines are tasted in a rapid-fire display of sucking and spitting, any context is lost, certain domaine's styles making no sense in a sea of stylistic variety, being marked down as a result. And these are the notes being cross-referenced by the consumer before he or she makes his or her buyuing decisions. Oh dear. Increasingly, I am certain that the only way to properly evaluate (split infinitives now permissable, I am told) a producer's wines is to do it in his or her cellar. Anything else is just irresponsible.

On a happier note, we have been tasting a great range of interesting wines for The Daily Drinker. Most recently (last evening, in fact!), I opened a wine made from a grape about which I can find very little information, the gen I have garnered thus far serving only to confuse me even more. It was a Langhe Bianco; so far so hoopy (as, I believe, Charlie Brown used to comment). But the variety is Rossese and the first thing Wikipedia tells me is that this is a red grape, whereas the wine in my glass was plainly a very bianco Langhe indeed.

The internet goes on to reveal that Rossese is a synonym of Vermentino; that it is also synonymous with a number of varieties having both the words bianco and Nero/Rossa in their titles. I am pretty sure that it is something called Rossese Bianco, however. And since the producer's website is full of photographs of assorted humans dressed up as gnomes and includes the history - complete with Christian names - of the gnomic (gnomish?) population residing in and around their vineyards, I am not confident that I will learn anything there either. Anyway, the price is toppy for The Daily Drinker, but it is such a superb white, I think I can only select it.

It's not all swings, however. There was something of a major roundabout earlier in the day in the shape of a bottle of Primitivo (for some years on/off synonymous with Zinfandel, now more offish than onnish). Nose rather muted, the desire to cough evidence of a splash of sulphur dioxide in the wine; palate grubby, a lesson in asperity (my New Word of yesterday). Yuk.

And I cooked lamb's sweetbreads the other evening for the first time, a recipe from that superb chef-of chefs, Simon Hopkinson. Braised lettuce hearts, garlic, bacon and asparagus (grudgingly bought, as it's all from Peru at this time of year). The sweetbreads themselves trimmed, seasoned, floured and fried to golden perfection in butter. The perfect mid-week meal and excellent with 2003 Santenay 1er Cru Les Maladières of Domaine Lucien Muzard, offer by Bowes Wine some years ago and now drinking fabulously well.

Planning a trip to the Rhône at the beginning of March and oh, is that Bordeaux en primeur raising its head once again? Already?!? No rest for a wicked wine merchant!

Veal Chops, Pencil Shavings and a Badly Docked Tail

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 16:34:00 +0000

The newly finished ICC, in the top of which will be housed the new Ritz Carlton, towers above expensive residential blocks in Kowloon

I dropped into Heathrow yesterday morning anticipating a nip in the air and I wasn't disappointed. And the further west I drove, the whiter was the landscape, which surprised me, as the news I had received was the the east of the country had been worst hit.

My last few days in Hong Kong were beset with fine wines. I travelled to Discovery Bay for dinner one evening and was spoiled rotten. The client whom I was visiting presented me with a glass of 2000 Corton-Charlemagne Bonneau de Martray on arrival, held up another bottle and asked whether it should be decanted. I scanned the label. Hmm. 1990 Cheval-Blanc. Let's decant it, said I!

2000 Corton-Charlemagne, Bonneau de Martray

A strong, pale, healthy lemon colour. Initially, this is very broad on the nose; diffuse, almost a little oxidised. With air, it fined up noticeably. A citrus marmalade of rich fruit. Smoky: a touch of gunflint, plus hints of nut. The palate is fresh from the front and highly concentrated, with great shape to it. Some earthy minerals clothe the long finish. This becomes much more focused with air. Lemon grip at the back. Touch of something exotic still.

We sat on the balcony and the client's son presented a coarse paté made from a smoked side of king salmon that he had recently caught in Alaska. It was utterly delicious and went very well with the wine!

The Cheval-Blanc decanted, we poured glasses of red burgundy as we sat in the cool air of evening, the lights of Discovery Bay below us. 2002 Clos Vougeot from Jean Grivot is wearing the clothes of a teenager, but a very well-dressed one!

Pale-mid garnet-ruby. The nose is fresh and ever changing, of black and red fruits. smoky black cherries, plus a savoury hint of dark chocolate. Hints, too, of red apple, rosehip and sweet spice. In the mouth this is instantly fresh, with some upright tannins that start early on. A piquant, smoky wine, grippy and very long indeed. There's an earthiness to the texture at the finish. With air, this becomes crisper seeming. Smoked meat and sweet spice.

The client's son presented a fabulous main course of veal chops and we poured out the Cheval-Blanc and it was another wine the bouquet of which changed every time I went back to it:

A medium-deep mahogany bowl, with a narrow bricky-gold band at the rim. Aromas are fresh, of red and black fruits, that note of pencil shavings, plus fresh mushroom skins. Smoky, black cherry fruit and some sweet spice. Slaty and crisp nose. Palate is cool and medium weight; crisp, with some mild, upright, totally integrated tannins. A firm core and a complete wine, with a great, cool shape to it. Very, very long. Later, dry spice and dried meat. Floral hints of roses and other summer flowers. Plush-but-firm and very long.

What an evening!

Two days later I was back on the ferry to DB, for lunch this time and lunch at a client's house that has seen me disgrace myself on more than one occasion in the past. Alas, I managed to disgrace myself once more. Blind tasting is the problem.

What is it with some locations that render one's palate so utterly ineffective? First blind wine and at least was talking about the right grape variety - Chardonnay - and the Antipodes, although I was hovering over NZ and should have been in Western Australia. Second wine and I was still in the Antipodes, when I should have been in Chassagne, third and fourth wines - the reds - I was far, far worse, my crowning glory being the mistaking of a claret (1990 Château Batailley) for a northern Rhône wine. My tail was so far between my legs that it might as well have been docked at birth.

Alfie's is a new restaurant in prince's Building in Central and is situated within a Prada outlet. There seems to be something of a trend for this sort of symbiosis, as the Prada shop in Plaza 66 in Shanghai also has a bar and restaurant and in both instances the eateries are operated by the Kee Club.

In the case of Alfie's, the restaurant is right next to a Berry Brothers wine shop and one can browse the shelves, select a bottle or two, and have them sent to one's table.

Burgundy was evidently uppermost in our minds the other evening for we selected a bottle of 2000 Gevrey-Chambertin Clos St Jacques Louis Jadot and a 2003 Clos St Denis of Nicolas Potel. I had drunk the Gevrey the previous week, which was why I suggested it on this occasion. It is complex, crisp, pure and delicious. And there is no hurry to consume it, as from the evidence of these bottles I would say that it has years of life remaining. The Clos St Denis was also delicious and lacking almost all signs of the torrefaction that can be a dominant characteristic of the vintage, just a hint of dried fruit appearing with aeration.

So. I am now back. And I am tired. But I am happy to be home with my family, and happy with the memories of jolly meetings and of the many extremely kind and generous people I have encountered during my travels. Thank you one and all.

Liquids Elegant and the Red-Fronted Shirt

noreply@blogger.com (Caspar Bowes) — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 07:44:00 +0000

The view back to Sheung Wan from Ocean Terminal in Tsim Sha Tsoi, the mighty finger of IFC2 picking at the sky

Weather continues good in Hong Kong, a contrast, I believe, to what is occurring in the UK, where subzero termpatures and, today, snow, hold sway.

I am enjoying using the facilities of the Hong Kong Club. Membership of a London club gives me reciprocal rights and, having signed a chit on arrival I can bask in this venerable institution's exemplary F&B.

The Hong Kong Club is currently running a promotion of 2002 red Bordeaux and I am struggling to get past the Rauzan-Segla at $420 a bottle. It's a drink that makes one wonder why the wine collectors of the world chase power and intense concentration. In my view, much more reward is to be had in the consumption of liquids elegant, balanced, subtle and beautiful.

I had brunch at Zuma the other day: an excellent feed indeed, the atmosphere lightened by diners' children whooping about between the tables. From there, back to an appartment in mid levels for cigars on the balcony. The wine accompaniment a 2006 Oregon Pinot Noir in the first instance (I must ask to be reminded of the name as it was extremely tasty) and 2000 Chateau Pavie-Macquin in the second. This St Emilion has softened delightfully, the tannins liquidised, the fruit fresh and lovely, utterly lacking the dried fruit dullness that sometimes characterises the produce of those obsessed with ultra-late picking in this sometimes frustrating commune.

Dinner later on in the Red Room of the HK Club and a bottle of 2007 white Puligny was followed by a delicious 2007 red Chassagne from Morey-Coffinet: surprisingly dark fruited, crisp and nicely open-hearted. I do like the better red wines from those white wine producing communes of the Cote de Beaune...but just try selling them!

Lunch at L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon. First visit here. Wow, the food was good. I have subsequently heard mixed reviews of this place, but I can only report that our meal was beyond good; really exciting (and it takes quite a bit to get me excited about food). To drink, a wine I have been wanting to try for some years: the mighty (if Parker's to be believed) Numanthia, a senior wine of the Toro DO in northern Spain. There were several vintages on the (extensive, eclectic) wine list and I plumped for the 1999. Here's the note:

N.B. I guess this is, if not 100% Tempranillo (here called Tinto de Toro), then pretty nearly. Almost opaque in the glass. The aromas are mature, taking in smoky cinders, liquorice root and ground coriander, ground ginger. Fruit is black and pretty broad, perhaps a little fudgy. Later, I found what I could only describe as chilli powder and something medicinal. The palate is mature and cake-y, with mild minerals and juicy grip. Very long, the tannins have the texture of flour. Finish is out of sight. Interesting, complex bottle of wine.

Tastings is an interesting wine bar off Wellington Street. One wall of the place is lined with Enomatic machines. One buys credit that is electronically installed onto a credit card and then helps oneself from an array of interesting bottles by inserting the card into the machine and selecting a measure: sample, half glass, full glass. Wines on offer (and there are about 25 of them) range from Old and New World Pinot Noirs right up to Grange and 1995 Mouton-Rothschild. We nibbled Pata Negro ham and some cheese whilst sampling a line-up of palate teasers: all good fun.

And then the night before last was the Bowes Wine Hong Kong tasting at the Yacht Club. In the end about 60 tasters turned up and sampled 24 wines in a very relaxed sort of way, more drinks party than serious exercise in vinous investigation. But there was a great range of liquids open for sampling, from Austrian and Rhone whites to a look at a flight of 2007 burgundies red and white, a flurry of Italian reds and a trio of 2006 Bordeaux to finish: Leoville-Lascases, Troplong-Mondot and Coutet. Everyone seemed very pleased with what they were tasting and the evening in general, even the chap whose red wine ended up down his short front, aided and abetted by my elbow.

I am off to Discovery Bay this evening and I am rather looking forward to the slowness of pace over there, if only for the evening. I'll be back there on Saturday for the afternoon. A report will be forthcoming.