Well, so much for my New Year’s resolution of getting a Vintage Tastings update out each week! Truth be told, I was getting it ready for the weekend edition of the Acker Weekly, but then I was told there was none last week. Oops. So now I will finish something each weekend to be on the safe side, starting with a special, recent evening at Marea, one of my favorite restaurants in the world.

The 1964 Krug had divine aromas of vanilla, sugar, bread and yeast. Its palate was smooth and buttery, possessing just a light amount of fizz. It was delicious and long, broad and dusty with a touch of orange rind on its finish and more vanilla flavors (95).

A trio of Doms from the ’60s were next, beginning with the 1966 Dom Perignon. Its nose was heavenly. It smelled like buttered sex with light toast, both in perfect harmony with its sunny, yellow fruit. The palate was excellent; yummy and long with more yellow fruits, although it felt a touch dry. It had a wheaty finish and dried out sooner than later, a function of the bottle more than the wine. Old Champagne is more volatile than any other category, it’s that any given Sunday thing (94).

The 1964 Dom Perignon had a much more mature color and nose but was still fresh. There was ‘an element of richness in the Dom not in the Moet.’ The palate was tasty and earthy with benevolent salt, soup and seawater flavors. There was more fruit here, and a nice kink of ginger ale developed as it opened (95).

The 1962 Dom Perignon had much more austerity in its nose; glue dominated, but its palate had the best sweetness of the trio. Wafer emerged all over the nose, in a cracker rather than cookie style. The palate was delicious and better than the ’64’s, a bit more open and giving, as this vintage is prone to do. 1962 is probably the most overlooked vintage of the decade, which many feel is still Champagne’s greatest of all-time (95+).

A 1973 Dom Perignon Oenotheque bottling was one disgorged in 1999. The Cardinal and his crew are always quick to point out disgorgement dates. I strongly feel that recently disgorged Champagnes need about ten years in the bottle to show their mature qualities again, so this bottle qualified accordingly. There was a bit of truffle oil in the nose, which had a baked quality in a positive way. The palate was still fresh and zippy, with flavors of hay and wet straw. There was a lot of power and length in this very dry Champagne (94).

The next Champagne was a rare 1979 Philipponat Clos des Goisses. Its nose was big and wheaty, tangy, bready and zippy. Flavors of wheat and yeast were complemented by a robust finish full of exotic tea flavors. This showed more of the natural wisdom that comes with age (94).

HEADS UP!!!

As I sit here sifting through the hundreds of tasting notes I didn’t get to write up from this past Fall, I think I realize that I have a problem. Not a drinking problem, don’t be stupid .

The problem is that there are so many ‘super’ nights or multiple day extravaganzas on the calendar. Why is that a problem, you may ask. Good question. It’s a problem because I insist to myself that I must write these nights (sss) up, and then I don’t get to them.

The 1990 Niellon Chevalier Montrachet leveled the ship with its wet, tree bark aromas. Smoky and dry, the Niellon had great honey and was ‘punky’ per The Don, referring to and seconding that tree bark. The palate was stony and mossy with nice richness and slate on its finish. This 1990 had excellent acid and mouthfeel, but mature fruit, almost over-mature. Its finish was still youthful, also salty (94).

And that was my last official tasting of 2012. A couple of significant events are on the calendar for the next couple days, should be a good start to 2013.

The 1955 Lafite Rothschild magnum was more open in a gamy way, smokier with more red fruits, carob and slate. The palate was smooth and light by comparison with tangy citrus and cherry flavors. There was a nice balance to this plateau-ing wine, which wasn’t showing any signs of decline. It got a little more signature in the glass, moving away from the tang, but staying bright and lean (93M).

The 1953 Lafite Rothschild was another spectacular magnum. Initially five out of eight tasters preferred the 1953, but by the end of the night, it was the same vote for the 1959. The ’53 had a honeyed, buttered nose with all the classic components lined up. Its palate was full and rich out of magnum, long yet elegant. The wine was ‘persuasive and seductive,’ said Wolf. ‘Sounds like your wife,’ I replied. This was another unbelievable beauty, a graceful and sexy wine, but it didn’t have the weight and depth of the 1959, at least not in my book (96M).

The next flight of two began with a 1918 Lafite. It was a bit green and woodsy at first, showing some awkward stages of age. Wolf found it having ‘ammunition’ qualities and ‘roasted,’ also remarking how this wine was still made while the Germans were in France, as the war ended in November. Paint thinner violated the nose and palate a bit, and the other wine writer there called it ‘a lousy vintage.’ It was more interesting than beautiful. There was nice flesh, and the wine got better in time. There was no doubting this bottle’s provenance, as it was a gift from Baron Eric himself (91).

The 1865 Lafite Rothschild stole the thunder from the anticipated 1870. It had a fantastic nose that was so complex, possessing all the elements of the forest. The trees, the twigs, the earth, the animals, the dew, the moss, the rocks, the wet, the dry, the smells, even the sounds…all it needed was Bear Grylls to jump into the picture with a perfect scoop of butter pecan ice cream in one hand, because that was also definitely in the nose. There was a kiss of banana to its black and purple duopoly. It had an intense finish in an elegant way, bringing cedar, spice and Christmas joy flavors to those both naughty and nice (97).

The 1870 Lafite Rotschild that followed was a bit anti-climactic to me, although five out of eight tasters preferred it. It had more obvious Cabernet in the nose. There was asphalt and meat, and despite the fact that it was richer than the 1865, it was a bit sweet for me. It got simpler in the glass, and I found it softer than I expected or wanted (93).

We had a few crazy cigars and a crazy port called Scion, from Taylor’s. It was some barrel they found buried in the cellar that basically was a tawny port from 1855 or something like that, but it wasn’t technically a vintage. I don’t know, look it up, all I can tell you is that it was spectacular, as good as Port gets (98).

Everyone left that night glowing like Christmas trees in December. And off to Paris we went the next morning for six stars in 24 hours, before heading to Bordeaux. The Wolf was back on the circuit, and he was back on the prowl.

Friday night’s session had us in the modern-era, ie 1982 and younger, and we began with a flight of ‘lesser’ vintages. I have always said that great producers make great wines every year; some just don’t age as long as others. The 1997 Petrus had a nice nose with pleasant plum, cocoa and mineral aromas along with touches of olive and saddle, and a pinch of greenness. At age fifteen, the ’97 seemed to be hitting its sweet spot. The palate was lighter than the average Petrus, but it was soft and tasty with cherry flavors. James admired its ‘black olives, meat and chocolate’ and found it almost Burgundian in character. While it didn’t have the richness of a great Petrus, it gained a bit in the glass and was quite pleasing overall (92+).

The 1985 Petrus was a horse race with the 1986, literally, as horse and animal was the first thing I noticed in its nose. There was also deep forest and noticeable t ‘n a there. The palate was rich with olive and chocolate flavors, along with tangy bing cherry and game. This was still zippy, more so than most ’85s, and it also had some bakery sweet bread flavors develop. There was a sweatiness that stayed with the 1985, and I preferred it ever so slightly to the 1986 (93+).

The 1984 Petrus had seashells and sawdust in its nose, and while there was not a lot of fruit, it wasn’t bad for 1984. There were flavors of plum and cereal, along with baked apple pie. There was just enough light grit to make it pleasant from start to finish in the mouth (90).

The 1983 Petrus smelled like good real estate in the nose. There were also musk, oats and chocolate pie aromas. The palate was in a great spot like many 1983s, still not peaking either. Rich, tasty and long, I thought this was the best wine of the evening so far, although The Hedonist found it a touch dry (94).

We went forward in time for the next flight, beginning with the youngest wine of the weekend, the 2007 Petrus. This was baby juice by comparison, with grapy, plummy, almost inky fruit that gave a sunny and beachy impression in a California way. The palate was ripe and rich with touches of cinnamon and oatmeal, along with candied fruit and a smooth finish. I wondered whether this wine (and flight in general) reflected that the overall quality of winemaking has gotten better, or just different, and whether that was technology’s blessing, or curse (93).

The 2006 Petrus also had that California exuberance in its rich and buttery nose, along with blueberry and banana fruit. The palate was rich, heavy and large with a creamy, buttery style. Big and buttery appeared in my notes over and over again (95).

I didn’t have much to say about the 2004 Petrus, other than ‘similar candied profile’ and ‘softer.’ It was still an excellent wine, although these young adolescents were starting to be difficult to differentiate as much as the older wines, which is both the worst and best fact about great Bordeaux – it is tough or often a mistake to drink young, but oh so good when old (93).

The last wine of this flight was a 2002 Petrus. This was much leaner in the nose, more cedary and dry. While it didn’t have the fruit profile of the previous three, I liked its poise, strength and character. Its dryness was its strength, for now (93).

I know what you are thinking, sixteen vintages of Petrus and one 95-point wine?!? This Petrus stuff must be overrated and overpriced! Don’t be an uneducated blogger, will ya? There are enough of those out there already, so hold on a second, there was a method to our madness, and might I remind you that Bordeaux really doesn’t get interesting until 1982 and older, as a general (but not universal) rule of thumb.

We marched on to the next flight, which led with the 1999 Petrus. It was as if I was in familiar territory again, back amongst adults after those adolescents from the first decade of the 21st century. Yeast and earth were the first things that stood out of the ’99’s nose, along with t ‘n a and muscular, big and brawny fruit. Black and purple dominated the scenery, although coconut kissed its way in the front door. There was nice game to this zippy, bodybuilder of a Petrus, although The Mogul found it closed (94).

The 1998 Petrus was another monster of a nose, pairing well with the 1999. It was deep like the middle of nowhere in the Pacific, possessing both black fruit and pudding. Its minerals glistened, and smoke and raspberry added complexity. Its palate was a whopper, and while tight, it still showed its big personality well. Flavors of earth, yeast, plum and chocolate were all present, and its acidity lingered in the belly. This was the first, truly profound Petrus of the weekend (96+).

The 1996 Petrus was austere and ‘greeny,’ although there was still yeast and purple rain. While softer and easier than the 1998, it still had some zip. Typical suspects of yeast, smoke, earth, game and chocolate rounded out the palate (92).

The 1995 Petrus was another deep wine, ‘hard’ per Les. The ’95 possessed aromas of yeast and smoke. Muscular and powerful, the 1995 had a boatload of tannins and lots of unrealized potential to follow. I had this another time this year, and it left an even better impression away from all the other Petri dishes, so to speak. Comparative tastings sometimes can lessen or mute a bit the impression one might have when one on one (95+).

Well, the 1989 Petrus did it again. As good as the 1990 was, the 1989 was again better, even though this was more of a photo finish than I remember the other four or five times I have had these wines together. The 1989 had more acidity and zip; it came across broader and deeper, with more earth and length. It wasn’t opulent like the 1990, but its chocolate, yeast, cedar and black fruits were indubitably great. This remains one of the greatest young wines in the world today, and yes, twenty-three years old is young for great wine (98+).

Alexander The Great noted ‘charcuterie’ in the meaty 1982 Petrus. There were lots of green olives as well in this open and gamy Petrus. Someone remarked this was ‘a perfect bottle of 1982,’ and it was similar to the 1980 with its openness. Free love, man, I told you Bordeaux only gets interesting 1982 and older! This was more serious than the ’80, and its palate was lush, tender, soft, delicious and gamy. The Mogul found this was in a ‘sweet spot’ and that ‘it melts in your mouth.’ More olive flavors emerged, and this certainly felt like a great time to be drinking this wine. I still think that while outstanding, it will always be in the second-tier of great Petrus es (95).

Next up was the 2001 Petrus, an ‘insider’s secret’ vintage per The Hedonist. There was coffee and chocolate in its nose, along with minerals, wheat and a more seductive power than the 2000. This was sexy, seductive and great, and while my notes were waning, the self-evident pleasure of the 2001 Pomerols were not. I still remember a trip to Bordeaux where either Guideneau or one of the Moueixes told me that they wouldn’t be surprised to see 2001 outshine many 2000s a decade or two down the road. This was a big, deep wine, one that left The Mogul’s mouth ‘still dry thirty seconds later’ (95).

The 2003 Petrus was exotic with its cinnamon and molasses aromas. The palate was beefy, rushy and rich, although I can’t for the life of me figure out what rushy means. It was a bit sweet and over the top, a vintage of Petrus that is probably better being sold than consumed in general (92).

Twelve hours later, we began with the 1977 Petrus and another flight of lesser years, but this time with real age on them. None of them could be good, right? Well, the 1977 was certainly evidence for that argument with its nose of dried-out olives and cobwebs. It was ceramic and stony, although there was a touch of plum there. Its palate was brothy and earthy with ceramic, barn and animal flavors. This was just ‘bones and skeleton’ and overly dry (85).

The 1974 Petrus had a nicer nose and darker fruit, along with lighter chocolate aromas. The palate was clearly better than ’77. It was what I would call ‘decent.’ Soft and tasty, this was pleasant and easy with a touch of cardboard in a good way (88).

The 1973 Petrus had more green olive and veggie in its nose, not in an off-putting way. This was tasty, fleshy and actually ripe with some good tomato flavors. There was a nice mineral complexity to the lightly vimful ’73, which was still in a good spot and one of the sleeper vintages of the entire weekend (91).

Last in our first flight was the 1968 Petrus, another wine that exceeded expectations. Roman noted ‘marzipan,’ and James ‘custard.’ It smelled and tasted like a chapitalized Red Burgundy. It was quite gamy with that tobacco and Worcestershire edge. Soft, lush and pleasant, the 1968 was still enjoyable (90).

Our second flight continued with the old and obscure, specifically the 1963 Petrus. Its nose was minty in almost a red way. There were some curds and whey there, along with more red spice. The palate was round and rich but metallic with unripe tannins. There were some pleasant, purple flavors but not much more (89).

We traveled back to the Seventies with our next two flights, beginning with the 1979 Petrus. Clearly, we were in younger territory, as well as a more serious category of vintage. Its nose was a bit oceanic, and chocolate was there along with tropical purple. While deep and dark, its fruit was ‘deprived and very dry,’ per The Hedonist, and he was right, particularly in the middle and backside of the palate (88).

The 1975 Petrus just slaughtered everything so far on this afternoon. We were clearly in a different, and much better, category of wine, with tons of breed. While a touch shy, there were fresh garden aromas and a deep, seductive minerality here. The palate was rich and decadent, and its acidity stellar. Brooding, big and classic, this was a beautiful monster, one whose acidity kept getting noticed more with each sip. James admired its ‘rough velvet.’ Despite this being a big and monstrous Petrus, the wine still had a delicacy that tickled me. It had a tight and taut personality like a good corset, and it rolled off my tongue like words in a good book (96+).

Unfortunately, the 1971 Petrus was completely (DQ). It was corked beyond repair, unnatural selection at its worst. All things considered, no one could complain given the condition of this collection so far.

The last wine of this flight segued to the Sixties, that being a 1966 Petrus. There was more menthol to its fruit, and its acidity pronounced itself ably on the nose. Olives were also there, as well as on the palate. James noted, ‘hazelnuts and dried meats, bacon.’ There were nice flavors of earth, bacon and black fruit in this outstanding Petrus (95).

The next three flights saw more off bottles than the first three-quarters of the weekend, which was a small bummer, but they also made everyone see the Petrus light shine as brightly as possible. No one was unhappy; in fact, we were all giddy by the end with admiration, more like adoration. One can only hope that 1989-2009 will equal what happened at Petrus from 1945-1966, one can only hope. Every wine with one or two exceptions was incredible from here on out, not counting those off bottles, of course.

The 1967 Petrus was an appropriate warmup for the greatness that would follow. It had a beautifully chocolaty nose and an elegant, feminine style. There was garden all over the place, along with light plum. The palate was round, supple and elegant. This was a vintage that was ready to go, and I was ready to take it there (93).

The 1964 Petrus was the first cooked bottle, as opposed to being corked. It just wasn’t right (DQ).

The 1962 Petrus was ‘gorgeous’ per James; it was another beautiful and elegant Petrus, but it also had stuffing. The Hedonist found it to be a shadow of 1983. I found it a bit more seductive, with depth and lots of red and purple fruit. There was a lot going on on the palate, ‘very complex’ per The Hedonist. Can I use the word ‘on’ consecutively, by the way? There was a sweet core on the palate, which was a bit candied, in a delightful way (95).

The ’61 would have been an appropriate end to the weekend, but we had two flights and eight wines to go, and they were all from the Fifties and Forties. That’s my kind of math.

The 1959 Petrus showed a yeastier side of Petrus, along with aromas of earth, mint and chocolate sex. There were some pinches of carob sprinkled on top. The palate was like wealth that didn’t have to work for it; it was so natural and effortless. Someone remarked how the ’59 had ‘a lot of cleavage,’ and it sure did. 1959 Pomerols have never lived up to the Left Bank when it comes to this vintage’s reputation, but the ’59 Petrus was plentiful and in the category of elite wines from this elite vintage (96).

1955 was an extraordinary Pomerol vintage, but this bottle of 1955 Petrus was not extraordinary. I mean, one could still appreciate that it was an outstanding wine, but it was affected and not perfect. It was rich and stemmy, but ‘pruny’ per The Mogul. It was chocolaty, citrusy and woodsy, and I was able to get to a good place with it, and its acidity lingered well. I hope I get to taste a flawless bottle of this wine again (95+A).

The 1953 Petrus had a nose full of hay, vitamins and exotic fruit. It was another for the elegant and beautiful category. It wasn’t as obvious as most ’53s are at this point, and it had nice poise. Roman found this curious ‘plastic poly spray’ element in the nose (94).

The 1952 Petrus was another completely corked bottle, beyond repair. That was too bad, because 1952 is a killer Right Bank vintage that can complete with the best of them (DQ).

There was one last flight for this legendary event, and it was four vintages from arguably the greatest five year stretch in wine history. The 1949 Petrus was great, old wine – still fresh yet lovingly mature. The nose kept changing, evolving like greatness. Mint, dust, dried red flowers and old books were present in the nose. This was a chameleon of a nose, as its sumptuous and tender personality went into phases of dust, wheat and caraway before returning to mint. It was another wealthy wine, with black and purple fruit flavors along with wheat and whey. Its acidity reminded me of 1995 and 1998, and the wine stayed tasty to the last drop (98).

The Mogul found the 1948 Petrus stemmy at the beginning, and it was also a bit volatile with its vitamin and bathwater aromas. The wine was still tasty, even with some cobwebs in there. It had a nice citrus pinch, and it lingered longingly. There was a touch of plastic here, too, but its overt coconuttiness sent that plastic packing in its wallet, for further use abroad (94).

There were two vintages left, and Petrus ‘ two most legendary ones at that. It was time for a 1947 vs. 1945 smackdown, UFC style. The 1947 Petrus was ready to rumble, dancing from the opening bell, or as The Hedonist put it, ‘Staying Alive.’ Its nose was so open and forward, with some grass and some green. Incredibly extroverted, the ’47 was rocking and rolling like Led Zeppelin on tour in the ’70s. The palate was rich, round and oily with hot acidity. This was a wild and crazy wine, and its green blew off into creamy and rich caramel. Rich and decadent, The Hedonist had finally found home in this hedonistic 1947 (98).

Our Hamptons auction was right after this event, and while I’m not even sure I have ever been drunk walking into an auction, (I usually do my best drinking at the auction itself), I can safely say that I have never been more drunk walking into an auction than for this one lol. I didn’t exactly hammer down as much as usual that night, but thankfully Truly and Samantha picked up the slack. There are many great Bordeaux, but I have to say that Chateau Petrus is the fairest of them all. In today’s retail market, price is not always an indicator of quality, but in the auction market, it is, and there is a reason that Petrus is consistently Bordeaux’s most expensive wine. Long live Chateau Petrus.