This month has seen a lot of pit stops. Here today, gone tomorrow. Like all month, so I guess I am not wiser after all. I have had to channel a lot of my inner Bad Boy to deal with such a road show, but thankfully every day time stops for dinner, and I remember what it is to be civilized again.

I spent a few days in Provence, and I suppose my second night there set a bad precedent for the week: a wedding party that started at 4pm and ended at 330am. Well, at least that was the last time I remember seeing the time. It was a marriage between French and Russian families, and the Russians brought the vodka, and lots of dance floor moves from lots of lovely ladies. I lost two buttons on my shirt and my shoes, but thankfully I made it home in one piece and didn’t fall in any thorny bushes like a couple of others.

The Educator is a passionate man whose experience has traveled well beyond the greatest names and greatest vintages, since he has been there and done that as much as anyone. It is discovery that drives him, and he shared some of that passion and wisdom over a wonderful lunch in his summer home. There was a delicious 2002 Delamotte as an aperitif, and it was classy, smooth and delicious, quite drinkable for such a young buck (93).

The Champagne that followed was a beast; we knew it was Salon but we had to guess the vintage. It seemed so young, yet had wisdom about it, much like The Educator himself. Citrus and ‘pink grapefruit’ came from the crowd. This Salon left a Paul Bunyan impression with its bigness and wood. It was yeasty and brawny, yet still fresh and like an infant. The closest I got to guessing was 1979, but this classical 1982 Salon was also some serious heavy metal (97).

A 1995 Guigal Cote Rotie La Turque paired well with a Camenbert, something I thought impossible, but it actually worked per The Educator’s insistence. The Guigal was rich, full and ‘milky’ per The Paradox. White pepper, violet and a slice of ham rounded out its nose. ‘Delicate, velvet and fraiche’ came from the crowd. This was balanced yet big (94).

The Educator continued to teach after dinner. ‘If you want to know a wine, you have to know all the vintages.’ He referenced the 77 vintages of DRC he has sampled. I did some quick math in my head and put myself at about 60. There is still so much to learn.

There were a lot more wines at dinner that night with The Aginator, and more dinners in general, but we’ll save those for another time. Whether it be wines, places or restaurants, new discoveries are always exciting, even if there is only time for a pit stop.

July and Europe always go well together in my world. This past week I spent seven days in seven cities racing across the continent, including one day in four countries. I remember back a few years when I did 18 cities in 26 days. Seven cities sure felt like enough this time; I guess I am getting wiser .

One of my stops had me visiting The Judge, who handed out his usual punishment, 6-8…bottles of wine. He had actually been overcoming the theft of one of his cars earlier in the day, with his girlfriend’s dog still inside. Thankfully, he got the car back. I mean the dog.

A 1928 Lamouroux was a Margaux, I believe. There was cinnamon and spice there to this relatively fresh wine. It was lighter and leaner in the mouth, possessing less intensity and more water. It was still alive is about the best thing I can say (85).

We couldn’t get throughout the evening without at least one Burgundy, which was a young, vigorous 1990 Leroy Clos Vougeot. Perhaps the age and maturity of the previous wines made it seem even younger than it was, but it felt almost like a barrel sample! This was Modern Art in the face of a Monet exhibition, still pure and deep with menthol, spice girls and that Leroy rubber tire. Asian spice and licorice also joined the party. The palate was Monaco rich, almost buttery and crazy long. Its finish crackled with big-time fireplace action, but was still smooth (95).

Despite ending on a Burgundy note, this evening showed wherein the greatness of Bordeaux lies, in its age. This age comes in the cellar, whether it be from the Chateau or a private collector. Those that cellar these wines will always be rewarded. The verdict was in.

All eyes are on Brazil right now. I’m not sure if it is just because of ESPN, but I feel like America is collectively and sincerely paying attention to soccer for the first time. While many from all over the world have descended upon Brazil for this incredible celebration of human spirit, most guys that I know in Brazil are currently in America. Of course, they are watching and rooting passionately for their country, but it’s just too much of a disruption to their normal lives. It’s also a good excuse to come to America, which most of the gentlemen I know there regularly do, and I am glad a few of my Brazilian friends were in New York this past week, led by The Ringmaster, a man after my own heart.

The 1995 Coche-Dury Corton Charlemagne seemed overwhelmed by the Leroy at first; in fact, almost everyone preferred the Leroy initially. The Coche was certainly more feminine and elegant, and its sensuality got lost amidst the brute force of the Leroy. However, with time, it kept gaining and unfurling into a longer and more intense experience, and in the end I considered the two wines neck and neck despite the clear difference in style. The Coche had more white fruit, some game and was quite exotic with its almost Brazilian fruit (Brazil has some of its own unqiue fruits that are absolutely wild btw). Its palate was creamy, long and sensual. There were nice broth and earth flavors. The Jeweler came back to the Coche and was the first to voice his new found preference. It held with its balance, had great flesh and was in a perfect spot for maturity, albeit it more mature than the Leroy, perhaps. The acidity kept creeping out more and more, and The Ringmaster admired its ‘cotton candy.’ Don’t call it a comeback, it’s been there for years (96).

The 1990 Leroy Richebourg that followed seemed almost infantile by comparison. This showed much younger, deeper and blacker. I supposed it was starting to show some skin by Leroy’s usual standards, but the ’82 RC was so deliciously mature, it skewed our perspective. The Richebourg’s palate was big and oaky without being obtrusive; it squared up a bit but its thickness could not be denied. There was a bit of that Leroy gas and ass, both in kiss quantities. It got better in the glass, both fruit and finish-wise (95).

The 1982 Mouton Rothschild was another level. It, too, was tight, but darker and deeper as well. This was a spectacular wine that wasn’t all about the pleasure; in fact, it may more have been about the pain and rain, but it was much longer than anything we had this night. This was a lifetime wine, and while arguably all of the Burgundies gave more pleasure now, there was no question which wine would still be standing long after all of us. The debate of now versus later in the context of greatness will always be debatable, and while I got more pleasure out of the Burgundies, I still recognized that this was the wine of the night (97+).

By the end of the evening, I left cheering for Brazil in the World Cup, against the USA in the final, of course.

This past week I was in New York, but I might as well have been in Hong Kong, as the three dinners on my calendar were with three of HK’s finest collectors, all in New York on separate business occasions, although there were a couple of interconnected links.

The Chairman is a name bestowed on three different individuals in three different continents as far as Vintage Tastings lore goes, but it would be safe to say that they all might defer to the one in Hong Kong for any final votes in the boardroom. A number of us were treated to a night of incredible wine and food in the private room at Bouley, as the pulse of America’s and China’s investment market met and broke bread and reds.

I think five bottles of 1995 Krug went down the hatch by the time we sat down to dinner. The 1995 is definitely getting better with age, and it is starting to thicken a bit. It was still rustic yet bready, with nice oil and vitamin flavors, flirting with outstanding (94+).

The 1997 Chave Hermitage Blanc took up the Montrachet challenge, and if there were ever a white that could knock a Montrachet down to its knees, it would be this. While some might put its personality under the ‘acquired’ or ‘geeky’ category, I find his whites fabulous and unique. It had that glue-do-voodoo kink, which hopefully anyone who has had his whites will understand. There were kinky fruits, icy flavors and diamonds sparkling on its finish. It was round and full, with mango, game and (good) bitter flavors. This was a white wine still ascending at age 17, although its fruit was starting to hit that sweet spot (95).

The 2000 Drouhin Montrachet Marquis de Laguiche was more than up for the challenge. This is my favorite Montrachet in terms of price-to-quality ratio. It always delivers outstanding quality without the stratospheric price tag, and this was no exception. The crowd immediately jumped in the Montrachet camp, but of course, they were bankers, so no surprise there J. Its nose oozed buttery spice, along with nice mint, cedar and cream aromas. Its palate was long, smooth and buttery, while Jennie observed, ‘overripe pineapple.’ I loved this wine (95+).

Actually, it wasn’t the end of our Bordeaux program, as I had to slip in a blind wine of my own. Such generosity must be reciprocated. I told everyone if anyone guessed what the wine was, dinner was on me. After a few near-misses, The Chairman was honing in, so I decided to reveal it was a 1979 Petrus. This was a gorgeous bottle with an open nose full of chocolate. There was ‘a big, bold finish’ per someone or another, and its foreground was satiny, round and smooth. Mints, olives and other usual Petrus friends joined this party (95).

We had a couple more Ganbeis revisiting some of the Bordeaux, then a couple of Jaboulet Hermitage La Chapelles. The 1989 was a dirty birdie (92) and the 1990 was jammy, chewy, friendly and zippy, one of the better bottles of this that I have had recently (94).

Oh yeah, we had some 2001 Yquem. Although I rarely drink sweet wine, that one rocks (98+).

I’m not sure how I managed to have lunch the next day, but the fact that it was at Marea helped. The Artist Formerly Known as Dr. Vino plucked a delicious 2012 Pierre-Yves Colin-Morey off the list, and I felt better again. I can’t remember which wine it was, but they are all good from this up-and-coming Burgundy star.

For those of you that really pay attention to what I write, you may remember a group from Hong Kong called the AlcoholiHKs. Well, one of their Chief Drinking Officers was in town, so we two CDOs got together at Sparks, since he wanted a great American steakhouse. Since I was out Monday with the Hedonist, Tuesday with The Chairman and Wednesday again, dinner was at 5:30. If I wasn’t home by 7:30, I think I might have gotten a homemade vasectomy. So we shared a single bottle, a reasonable 2004 Montrose off the list. It was big and brawny, a bit tight at first, showing more oak than anything else. With some air, and some steak, it settled down into another drinkable ’04, solid but not earthshaking (90).

A couple of days later, I was lucky enough to catch The Zen Master while he transcended through New York City. The Zen Master is also a wine master, so there was only one place to take him: Charlie Bird. We warmed up with a 2007 Raveneau Chablis Montee de Tonnerre. It was quintessential Chablis; the ultimate starter wine. It drank like silk embroidered with exotic sea shells and minerals. There was smack to its lemony, tangy palate, and enough length to get into the serious class (94).

1983 Guigal Cote Rotie La Mouline. When it comes to the La la’s, there is no doubt that the La Mouline rules the roost, although any given Sunday, La Turque or La Landonne can of course steal the show. I doubt anything could show much better than this ’83. It was a great bottle, showing everything that La Mouline wants to give. Its nose was deep and dark, full of purple, violet and black fruit. Bacon, pepper and that Rhone hot rock spice simmered throughout the wine. This was big, rich yet deft, an agile wine on a heavyweight level (97).

There was one more wine on our menu, although we probably could have done without. Yeah right, it was a 2002 Rousseau Chambertin. 2002 has always been a darling vintage of mine, but it is starting to join my favorite camp. Dare I say greater than 1999 or 2005 as far as Red Burgundy vintages go? If we are talking pleasure right now, it is tough to argue against the 2002, and it still has a long way to go. There was flesh to the usual musk, wet bamboo and cherry fruit. It was open and singing, singular in its powerful terroir, and long with its acidity. This was a great wine, a definitive knockout blow (96).

Three of my favorite restaurants in NYC (Bouley, Marea and Charlie Bird) along with three of my favorite friends in HK made for three of my favorite things last week, all here in New York City. When it comes to fine wine, invasions are welcome.