4×2=8. And on 4/28, some of New York’s finest collectors gathered at Marea for an evening of fine Bordeaux. I know that everyone in the world thinks that only the Chinese drink Bordeaux, but there are still a few Americans that appreciate a good claret, especially the older stuff. While China’s attention tends to drift away pre-1982, that’s where America’s deepest cellars start to focus.

There was also Champagne. I don’t think there is a proper meal that can go without it. We started with a 1976 Krug. Its nose was wafery with a light brulee glaze along with and nice wheat and a light toast. The palate was leaner than expected, possessing light cola and ginger ale flavors. Of course, any reference to New York’s finest collectors without a reference to Big Boy would constitute an incomplete grade, and he commented how 1976 isn’t even close to 1979 despite a few high profile wines having similar ratings. Its vanilla components came out with some foccacia, but it was merely very good, and excellence is usually the minimum that Krug will tolerate (92).

The 1988 Krug Clos du Mesnil, however, was up to the usual standards and delivered a profound experience. Its nose was obviously bigger, possessing great breed. I loved its toasty bread and nut aromas, both of which were soaked in oil. Its butter came out, and its palate was great. It was full and long, yet still balanced and deft, a whopper with just the right amount of cheese (96).

The very first vintage of Cristal Rose was next. For those of you that know what year that is, you would only know if you knew Big Boy, and the story about how he got the six bottles for twenty times the highest price ever. It’s a true story lol. The 1974 Cristal Rose had a dirty nose with earthy, dark chocolate aromas. Lady Agah noted, ‘strawberries and cream, soaked in liqueur.’ There was almost this dash of Chambord in it. The palate was big and rugged, also dirty, still with vim but also with some caterpillar boots and fur, too. Lady Agah’s early infantuation was soon over, and she observed ‘not much of a finish.’ Given the vintage, it was impressive, but it remained dirty from beginning to end. Sorry Rob, but it wasn’t worth $5k a bottle lol (91).

The 1926 Dom Perignon, however, was worth $5k and then some. It had a honeycomb nose, along with cream, light toast, vanilla sugar and ‘petrol’ per Gentleman Jim, ‘like an old Alsatian Riesling.’ It was also Montrachet-like and Wendy found ‘honeysuckle,’ while another found ‘honey’ as well. The palate took it up another notch with its rich and thick personality. It was lush, long and honeyed, dry yet creamy with caramel flavors. There was excellent viscosity in a wine-like way, with just a light touch of spritz to remind everyone that it was still Champagne. It was outstanding stuff, and clearly the Champagne to drink and finish first (96).

It was time for Bordeaux, and what better way to start that off than with a 1948 Cheval Blanc. The 1948 has outshone the 1947 on more than one occasion, although the 1947 still remains one of my personal all-time highlights. The problem is, that was 1999, New Year’s Eve to be precise. It has never been as good, while the 1948 has delivered at least three times that I can remember over the last ten years that were stupendous. Lady Agah found it ‘smoky and smokin’’ right away, like ‘barbecue potato chips.’ It was, most like Lays in particular lol. There was a rich, meaty style to the nose, and mint and menthol soon joined the party. The palate was rich and saucy, with a touch of slate and band-aid holding it back. There were grainy flavors and that signature old Cheval motor oil of the era. ‘Incense and game’ were also noted in this complex wine. It wasn’t the best bottle of this wine that I have ever had, but it was still outstanding (95).

The Cheval would be the only St. Emilion for the evening. In fact, the rest of the night would be all Pomerol. A 1950 Trotanoy brought by Jim and Wendy proved to be one of the wines of the night. It was a spectacular Nicolas bottle, and everything it should have been. It had a deep, incredible nose with aromas of plum, chocolate and white smoke. Its palate was classic; it was rich yet mature with flavors of cassis and plum. ‘Classic Nicolas, pure,’ remarked Rob. Everyone purred for this near-purrfect Pomerol (97).

The Pomerol procession pushed onwards with a 1953 Latour a Pomerol. This was much more ceramic in its nose, with a heavy mesquite edge. It had a much lighter nose than the Trotanoy but was still classic in its own way, and more reflective of its vintage. Clean and light in the mouth as well, the L a P had secondary cinnamon flavors; otherwise, the palate followed the nose’s lead (93).

A 1955 Vieux Chateau Certan was exotic and kinky with loads of sweet fruit. It was almost tropical, I wanted to say apricot and mango. It was like there was a shot of Yquem in this overripe red. The palate was lush and creamy, with hints of orange rind on its finish. It was tasty and friendly, perhaps not a perfect bottle, but a fun one (93).

The next flight was a Lafleur family feud. The first was the 1964 Lafleur, which had a fabulous nose, a veritable fruit symphony of black, purple and even red, certainly black cherry. Its nose was so seductive; it was like a kiss, cream and raspberry beret all in one, performed by Prince, of course. The palate was round and pretty, but a step back from the nose. It was long with a nice frame, and it had more concentration and chocolate flavors than its younger sibling that followed (94).

The 1966 Lafleur had a sweet core in its nose, bordered by slate. It felt lighter in the nose, and it was. It palate was pleasant and long, with a bit of dust and zip to its finish. It was a grainier Lafleur, still holding onto its excellent status, but perhaps not for long (93).

We had a palate cleansing, mini-flight of two Champagnes, both from 1929. The 1929 Heidseick Dry Monopole was ‘honeyed city’ in the nose. Its round, apply personality was mature, and its caramel on a stick most definitely got my attention. The palate didn’t have any more bubbles, but it was rich, round and lush, quite wine-like and ‘heaven’ per one of its sippers. The wine was delicious, rich and delicious (95).

The 1929 Louis Roederer should have been the better bubbly, but this bottle was ‘not as crisp’ although it was still creamy and oily, just not as great or a great bottle. It had a yeasty finish but was clearly affected (92A).

We still had four wines to go, and all of them were from either 1989 or 1990. Since they were Pomerols, my money was on the 1989s. I have had 1989 Petrus versus 1990 Petrus on six or eight occasions, and the 1989 has always won. Now that’s not to take away from the 1990, which is certainly a great wine. It’s just not the 1989. As Big Boy summed up, ‘In 100 years, the 1989 Petrus will be one of the five greatest wines ever made. It’s flawless, their greatest since 1961 by a longshot.’ He then proceeded to tell another great story, which I think made the evening score Big Boy 5, Rest of Us 0. JG quipped, ‘Remind me to tell my story first next time!’ I guess this is about the worst intro one can have for a 1990 Petrus, but we did taste that first, against a 1990 Lafleur, which I’ll get to in a moment. The ’90 had a big nose, bigger than I last remember it, with a lot of pop to it, and some smoke and kernel to go along with it. The wine was absolutely delicious, the essence of Petrus and the best 1990 of this that I have ever had. Chocolaty and chunky, it had character from start to finish. Thick as a brick (96+).

The 1990 Lafleur was another bottle that showed better than any others I have ever had. It was much tighter and had a lot more character than previous bottles. I have always found this to be a bit of a floozy of a Lafleur; now don’t get me wrong, there is always a time and a place for a floozy, just not every night lol. This wine was snapping back at me, in a good way, and its palate was wound yet minty and spicy. It was thick, long and sweaty, with great earth, slate and chocolate flavors developing. Its finish lingered, and its peacock showed me its tail (96).

The 1989 Lafleur was unfortunately an off bottle, and at this point in the evening, that was too much to overcome to even attempt to salvage a decent note for it (DQ).

The 1989 Petrus didn’t need much written about it, since it was consistent with every other time, still a cut above the rest. ‘All hail the King’ sufficed for my notes. If anyone was wondering what the two best brands are in the entire world of wine, Petrus is one of them, and is the other (99).

The most amazing thing about this evening was that the lineup of wines came together that morning, which is what we call ‘Spontaneous Combustion.’

The early part of the week is always its hardest part, so wine is definitely in order on Mondays and Tuesdays. Make that all days come to think of it. A recent Monday saw Hong Kong’s Good Doctor slip in and out of the New York night around dinner, leaving a trail of empty bottles behind him. Lady Agah and Alexander the Great joined us for a most enjoyable evening.

The company of the Good Doctor is always enjoyable, as he has a taste for the finer things, and is a master of not only wine, but also food. He is always atop my Hong Kong list of people to see, as I know a special meal will surely follow. Since it was Monday, and he was amidst a world tour of travel, we kept it light with only four bottles for the four of us, beginning with a 1990 Cristal. Well, it was Lady Agah who selected the ’90, as I was a few minutes late, and she waits for no man. I quickly caught up with the ’90, enjoying its butterscotchy, hedonistic style. It was delicious and sexy, flirting with sweet but keeping it dry. It was rich and long, still young but showing secondary flavors. It has always been a fun and outgoing Cristal, from a vintage that will last (96).

The 2001 Ramonet Montrachet that followed was a solid successor, as it, too, had a buttery style that flirted with sweetness. There was a touch of botrytis in this rich wine. It was fat and long, missing a touch of its centerpoint at this stage; its acidity wasn’t quite bridging the gap between its fruit and finish. The fatness of the wine perhaps detracted from its acidity a bit, but at age ten I don’t think the wine should be shutting down, not in 2001 at least. Nonetheless it was an excellent Ramonet, and one that I wouldn’t worry about drinking up soon (94).

The 1993 Roumier Chambolle Musigny Les Amoureuses was spectacular. Roumier really hit the 1993 nail on the head. His wines capture the essence and greatness of the vintage better than anyone else, although Rousseau and Mugnier might have a thing or two to say about it. Ok, Leroy too, but in a different language. This wine possessed all the great qualities of Roumier, the vintage and the vineyard. It was silky and feminine yet robust in character, with a mineral and earth foundation that said ‘build here.’ It had a fine line that ran right through it, keeping the wine balanced, but it was still so taut. It felt young but wise, its black and red fruits hinting at what will still come for many years. It was fabulous (96+).

We finished with a 1996 Krug. Lady Agah was ready to perform after dinner, so we revved it up a notch with a closing act fit for a nightcap. The Krug was, as usual, stellar but young. It had enough acid for the entire restaurant, and it had enough rocket fuel to last for decades. Do not disturb until 2025 (96).

It had been a long day for the Good Doctor, who bid us farewell with incredibly wise words that were befittingly very Chinese, ‘The days are long, but the years are short.’

The day after was another long day, especially the morning part of it, and I saw another good friend slip in and out of New York, this time being Hollywood Jef, in town for the Tribeca Film Festival. The Hedonist celebrated Jef’s arrival with a dinner at Adour, where more wine was, of course, both in and on order.

We picked up right where I left off the night before, this time with a 1989 Krug Clos du Mesnil. The nose was deep, rich and brothy, with great vanilla and light citrus aromas. There were exotic floral qualities and a bold personality from what is the greatest vineyard known to Champagne. The flavors were big to match, and there were lots of wheat flavors with a splash of rust. There was deep acidity to this brooding bubbly, and its long, thick finish oozed all over my palate. It got deeper and better with warm, yellow flavors shining in due time (96+).

A 1992 Drouhin Montrachet Marquis de Laguiche had a sweet, gamy nose. Tropical aromas of rainwater, sweet musk and even a hint of pineapple let their presence be known rather quickly. 1992s can be a bit sweet, and while I think many wines from this vintage are already sunsetting, that was not the case here. The palate had mildly sweet caramel flavors and hints of stalk and butter. That tropical sweetness stuck around the palate and didn’t cross the line. This was a great 1992 (95).

Hollywood Jef plucked something off the list and had a little fun, serving it to us blind. It was definitely old Bordeaux, and the Hedonist noted that it was ‘a little volatile.’ Once past that, there were aromas of peanut, carob, caramel and cassis. It had a dirty edge to it, and its peanut qualities soon went Bangkok Thai on me. It was gravelly and smoky, which led us to guess Graves. I was able to get the vintage down to ’59 or ’61, and it was a 1961 Pape Clement. I reveled in my logic and methodology for a moment, and went back to the wine and found it getting better in the glass. This was a delicious wine, much better than I remembered when I did a comprehensive Pape Clement vertical many years ago (94).

Two Burgundy bombs were lofted in from Jef, spectacular examples of Chambertin that made it a night truly to remember. Generous people who share their best bottles are people that easily become the best of friends. The first Burgundy was a 1962 Rousseau Chambertin Clos de Beze. Having had a spectacular bottle of this within the last two months, I was well prepared to reevaluate it. This bottle was equally as spectacular, sporting an incredible nose of game, smoke and red fruits. There was a richness to the nose without a heaviness, and great spice, rust and citrus kissed erotically around its bed of fruit. The palate was also rich, but still elegant, luscious and in the right spot and the right time, as the top 1962s are, although some say the vintage’s best days are starting to be behind it. Not tonight! There was a kick of kernel on the end, and its red fruits slowly turned to autumn in the glass. It never lost its citric tension, and secondary flavors of garden and smoke continued to unfold (97).

The last wine on this memorable evening was a 1955 Leroy Chambertin, which wasn’t about to back down from the benchmark laid down before it. The Leroy was even more kinky, with black and brown fruits emerging first and foremost. The palate was sexy and fleshy, with chocolate tootsie pop flavors but solid earth and iodine to keep it balanced. The wine kept climbing the point ladder with time in the glass, becoming more meaty and a good dirty. Its acid really came out and asserted itself, its t ‘n a popping out of its glass. ‘It has cleavage,’ the Hedonist chuckled, to which Hollywood Jef left us with some West Coast wisdom, ‘Everything is about getting laid’ (96).

The following week was more about Wednesday and Thursday with a complete Masseto vertical and a spectacular Bordeaux night at Marea, Saturday was La Tache with the Burghound, it was a busy week. I’m still unbelievably backed up this year already. Perhaps we’ll keep La Paulee interrupted for a bit. These past couple of weeks were definitely what we call ‘practice what you preach.’

La Paulee is one of the greatest wine experiences available to mankind. Daniel Johnnes, now wine director of Daniel’s culinary empire, has persevered year after year for the last eleven years in pulling off this extraordinary event, where Burgundy lovers from all over the world come together in either New York or San Francisco to share their greatest passion ”“ Burgundy. I was reading an interview with DJ before the main event this year, and found out that his first trip to Burgundy was when he worked for Acker Merrall in the beginning of his illustrious career, and on that trip he met Christophe Roumier, now a close friend. That really brought everything full circle for me this year, and set the stage for another extraordinary weekend. If you haven’t been, you most certainly should. It’s worth planning a vacation around.

Fortunately for me, it’s work :). La Paulee usually ends up being a three or four day affair, with pre-events both public and private, and this year we did a couple private ones. The first was a party I hosted on Thursday night, and the second an intimate evening of 1971s hosted by Mark and Roger and attended by such Burgundy dignitaries as Lalou and Vero. However, as I sit here on the flight from Guam to Honolulu, I can’t seem to find those notes (I swore I brought them!), so we will go straight to the main event.

The first wine I sampled on this incredible night was a 1990 Pernot Bienvenues Batard Montrachet, which was a friendly Hail Mary pass courtesy of Brett Favre’s cousin. Brett wasn’t around, I don’t think he feels too welcome in New York anymore. The Pernot had lovely corn aromas and flavors and a round mouthfeel, it was in a nice spot with lots of tasty butter flavors and excellent acidity still. I was quite impressed with this insider’s wine (94).

La Paulee is the wine world’s version of Fast and Furious, and Big Boy always gets to play Vin Diesel. He entered on cue with a 1976 Salon magnum. Its nose was what I called ‘white rusty,’ and it was very dry and tight, possessing that laser-like Salon quality on the palate but still noticeably a touch dry (93M).

Dr. Wilf Jaeger, the artist formerly known as Dr. Vino and one of America’s greatest collectors, is a La Paulee anchor as much as he is a Burgundy icon. He pulled out a pet wine of his for starters, a magnum of 1990 Gagnard-Delagrange Montrachet. It was clean and delicious with nice citrus and guava qualities. Still quite fresh, it had that fresh rainwater feel, and while not as developed and forward as the Pernot, it still provided some very good drinking (92M).

I assume that all magnums of Champagne come from Big Boy, although I know I got a couple of killer Champers from the Bad Boy as well. I think the magnum of 1966 Philipponat Clos des Goisses was one of Rob’s, but if not, he should still get the credit anyway for the awareness he has singlehandedly created about old Champagne! The Goisses was super fresh, no doubt more recently disgorged than not, with that signature wheat meets wheatgrass edge that always comes across quite pungently. Its pungency translated on to the palate, but this magnum showed more citrus than usual, which I found an appealing twist (95M).

The first wow wine came courtesy of Big Mike, who was crushing it as usual with an incredibly rare magnum of 1990 Coche-Dury Corton Charlemagne. I had never even seen one myself, so there was some initial trepidation, although one sip from the glass eased all concerns, as this was certainly Coche, certainly Corton Charlemagne and mature like a 1990 should be. While still clean and fresh, no doubt aided and abetted by the magnum format, there were warm, mature aromas with a touch of honey on top. Someone commented how it ‘doesn’t have the power of 1996,’ and it didn’t, but it didn’t have to; after all, it was the 1990 :). There was subtle strength here and an unwinding quality to its acidity that I found extraordinary (96M).

One spectacular magnum of 1990 was followed by another, this one being a 1990 Domaine Leflaive Chevalier Montrachet. The Leflaive was more open and gamy than the Coche, displaying more rainwater and buttered corn, and that signature Leflaive kernel. It was rich and ready (95M).

A bottle of 2002 Simon Bize Corton Charlemagne snuck in courtesy of Brian if memory serves me correctly.; apparently this wine is super rare and not mainly people know Bize even makes it, or he only made it one year, I am not sure to be honest. There were hints of anise in the nose, and it was clean and long with sweet nut and fruit flavors (91).

Bad Boy burst on the scene with one of the best bottles of Dom Perignon that I have ever had. It was just one of those bottles that was pure magic and ecstasy, delivering everything I could possibly want in an old Champagne and then some. This bottle of 1966 Dom Perignon was recenty disgorged in 1995, which leads me to believe that everyone needs to wait fifteen years after disgorgement before drinking. The size and stature of this bottle was huge and larger than life; its power and length were extraordinary. Now it wasn’t the first time that I have had this Champagne, but it certainly was the best. Unreal (98).

Gotta Have It Bobby followed up nicely with a magnum of 1973 Taittinger Comtes de Champagne, which was tasty and sweet, full of pink and red fruits and still showing some solid ’73 zip (93M).

A bottle of 2000 Coche-Dury Meursault Perrieres slipped in there. It was a classic 2000, clean and fresh, agile and cut, with that signature Coche kink to its nose. Rainwater, kernel and spice all graced its classy palate, which epitomized both 2000 and Coche quite well. I have been a fan of 2000 whites from day one, although it may be getting to be that time for many over the next handful of years (95).

Dueling 1996 Montrachets were next, one out of magnum, the other out of jeroboam. First up was the 1996 Ramonet Montrachet. The nose was minty, gamey and corny, while its palate was rich and long. It was a touch too gamy on the palate unfortunately, but the bare bone raw materials and potential in this wine were extraordinary. Its acidity was almost endless, somehow in balance with the texture and the fruit. I’m not sure if it was a touch of cork or heat taint that affected this bottle, but I could still appreciate its greatness (96A-M).

The jero of 1996 Bouchard Montrachet held its own quite nicely, delivering a delicious experience of must have Montrachet. It was class in a glass, showing great spice and lemony chalk, and not too much acidity as some 1996s are prone to have (95J).

A 1979 Louis Roederer Cristal snuck in there, and I was glad it did. This bottle had only one owner its entire life pre-Paulee, and it showed. It was racy, long and zippy with fine butterscotch flavors, still a youthful personality (96).

The first red of the evening was a disappointing 1990 Chezeaux Chambertin, the estate where Ponsot makes the wines, although I am not sure if he made all of them or just the Griottes. It was pungent and ok at best (88).

It was soon an afterthought as the Chardonnay grape made its last hurrah with five more whites, beginning with another magnum of Ramonet, this time a 1992 Ramonet Montrachet. This magnum was doubly special, as it came from the cellar of Wolfgang Grunewald. It was a delicious expression of Chardonnay, clean and fresh with no signs of cracking or that 1992 rot. Amazing and pure, it gave me this white snow impression, and its balance was superb. I may be dating myself, but it made me feel like an actor in a York Peppermint Pattie commercial back in the day lol (97M).

A magnum of 1982 Domaine Leflaive Puligny Montrachet Clavoillon was super fresh, almost too much so. This had to be reconditioned, and while dusty, long and pungent, it felt stripped of its age and nuance (90M).

A bottle of 1993 Raveneau Chablis Montmains was still holding on, gamy and enjoyable but an afterthought on this star-struck night (90).

The 1990 Montrachet was the third to last white wine of the evening and certainly its finest to date. The nose just boasted about its greatness, and no other wine would dare speak back. It was as pure as this wine gets; there was no usual touch of botrytis in this distinguished, refined and youthful nose. Aromas and flavors of rain, white meat and butter danced in massive harmony, like an 80-piece orchestra all in the same key. Long and unreal, it was, well, long and unreal. What a wine (97+).

There aren’t many wines that can follow a 1990 Monrachet in fine fashion, but thankfully the 1985 Ramonet Montrachet is one of them, especially when out of magnum. Thanks to the Don for this beauty, which wasn’t as beautiful as the sight of Don carrying around this magnum like a torch in the cold, Beaune night. This was another no-doubt-about-it, fantastic white. Its enormity was incredible, and its bigger than life personality took center stage immediately. The palate was gritty and grainy, long and fantastic. It had the purity of anything virgin, you know, like snow, territory”¦(97M).

Perhaps now might be a good time to take a break, or I’ll never finish this article. The reds were ready to go, leading off with three 1971s from , two jeros and a magnum, and all 96 points or better. There were still thirty-five wines more that I would end up tasting. The rabbit hole goes very deep at La Paulee, so it’s a good thing that Burgundy goes well with rabbit :).

I love wine. I love to taste wine, many different wines, on a regular basis in what some might call a punishing fashion. It just so happens I am friends with The Punisher, which reminds me that while tasting can be done with anyone and everyone, drinking can only be done with friends. When I think about friends within the Acker family, there are some that always come to mind immediately. It just so happens I had the good fortune of seeing many of them over the past couple weeks. Being in New York a month straight may be a foreign concept to me, but it has also proven to be quite rewarding. Tuesday night Poker chez Big Boy proved to be a win-lose scenario, thanks to a couple of unfriendly rivers. Of course, one of them happened to be Big Boy’s, cracking my straight with a full house after I played him perfectly and had his three-of-a-kind dominated. That one hurt me the most. The ten-minute lecture about how he was the greatest poker player in the world didn’t exactly console me, something along the lines of why he was the King of the Business. I had to go to the shades after that, to which Patman quipped, ‘What’s up with the shades, Kapon? In a few minutes, I’m gonna look over there and see you with a Full-Tilt Poker shirt on next?’ LOL. Funny guys, these poker sharks.

Fortunately, I got to drown my sorrows with wines from the world’s most generous collector, putting the win back in front of my mounting losses.

I grabbed a 1988 Krug out of the cellar when I could have grabbed anything; perhaps I was too gentlemanly, but chivalry still does exist for some when in others’ cellars. I figured we’d ease into the evening with some bubbly, a general game plan if there ever were one. The Krug was big, bold, beefy and butterscotchy, quite dry, but even more so quite full. It was a big, classic Krug that could use another decade still before really getting to know better (95).

A rare bottle of 1962 Comte Armand Pommard Clos des Epeneaux was up next, and was gamy and forward, a bit stewed. Aromas of grape leaves and pungent fruit graced its nose, while its palate showed off round, rich, soft and gamy qualities. ‘Big Boy found it, ‘pretty but not substantial.’ I think the bottle wasn’t perfect, although it did have a nice body, as did the dealer. It was a Big Boy production so I expected nothing less, and the Gonzagas on our dealer would have made any UCLA Bruin blush 🙂 (93A).

A magnum of 1962 Grivot Vosne Romanee Beauxmonts had a sweet, foresty nose on the blacker side of berries, with some stalks thrown in. It was super musky, with oats and a brown mesquite glaze. The palate was rich and hearty and had a big, fortified feel, with lots of muscle and brown sugar. Rob was commenting how well this wine went with the flavor of his smoke, an unlit cigar, of course (91M).

We changed gears to a 1978 Ponsot Clos de la Roche. The nose was a bit musty at first, earthy but reticent, not yielding much. The palate was the exact opposite, offering up a rich, fleshy and seductive mouthful of a wine. It was lush and oily in a gritty way with a thick finish. The finish was really long, impressively so, and this big, muscular Ponsot was quite tasty in an earthy way. When Ponsot hits the bullseye, it is as good as anything else, although inconsistency still plagues this great Domaine (95+).

‘Petrus or Lafleur?’ I was asked, to which I would always reply the same thing, ‘Petrus.’ No offense to the incredible Lafleur, but I’m a Petrus boy, what can I say. A magnum of 1953 Petrus reminded me why I made that decision without hesitation. This was a spectacular wine from the very first sniff. The nose was fabulous, perfect old Petrus. Plum, olive, earth and iron all danced like white and black swans so happy together. Pat noted, ‘the good part of the banana peel.’ The wine had deep and rich fruit that was dripping everywhere, both aromatically and on the palate. The wine was lush, meaty and nutty, still round with a tight chalkiness, nonetheless. We guessed how many magnums of 1953 Petrus remain in the world today, and Big Boy conservatively guessed three to six, while I said less than twenty. I couldn’t stop drinking this wine, it was just so delicious and just right out of magnum right now (96M).

A 1966 Rayas was an unusual move for Rob, but a welcome one. Old Rayas and Beaucastel can thrill as much as any Bordeaux or Burgundy, and this Rayas showed why. The nose was ripe, rich and spicy, full of strawberries and a pinch of rhubarb. It got saucier in the glass and started to emit complex nut oil aromas. The palate was also rich and spicy, although more hearty and jammy than the nose. There were thick, ceramic walls encasing the wine. Big Boy hailed it as ‘the purest Chateauneuf I have ever had.’ Of course, it was probably only his fourth :). Its long, thick finish held the wine together well in the glass, and its fruit stayed saucy in this sexy red (96).

The last wine on this already historical evening made it officially historical, as it was a 1962 Rousseau Chambertin Clos de Beze. Its spectacular nose was super rich and the concentrated essence of great Pinot Noir. There was almost ‘ridiculous’ richness, and this was one 1962 that certainly was not riding off into the sunset ever so slowly, as many are. This was a perfect specimen for 1962, with its fresh fruit, oil, tomato and hints of bouillon. There are only three wines that have energy like this, Vogue Musigny, La Tache and RC. And on that note, it was time to say good night (97).

And on the next day, it was time to say hello again, this time to a King and his merry men at Del Posto, for a semi-regular gathering. Too bad I showed up at Marea. Fortunately, I was only fifteen minutes delayed, and quickly caught up to a bevy of beauties, the Champagne, that is. While Big Boy may open up more wine than anyone in the world today based on a criteria of value, King Angry certainly tastes more wines on a regular basis than anyone I know, well with the exception of one handsome and dashing young Acker wine auctioneer :).

I caught up quickly on the first flight of Champagnes. In true royal fashion, one Champagne is never enough for the King, so we had five. Technically, the welcome wine was a magnum of 1970 Moet, which almost stole the show. It had a delicious nose that hinted at its more distinguished sibling, Dom Perignon. Musky and smoky, its rich nose was full of bread and oil, and the palate was delicious. While big and brawny, it was quite tasty, and a delicious vanilla flavor profile developed, along with a honeyed nose. Earth and broth kept everything in balance in this decadently friendly bubbly, quite a good show for a 1970 (94M).

A trio of Oenotheques followed from the actual Dom Perignon, beginning with the 1964 Dom Perignon Oenotheque (disgorged in 1999). The ’64 had a sugary nose, like a hard brittle made from hand-poured caramel. Its palate was clean, ‘it has the Oeno palate,’ I wrote, with its lightly sweet personality and traces of citrus, straw and hay. It was classy, and JP noted ‘honey’ (94).

The 1975 Dom Perignon Oenotheque (disgorged in 2007) started more slowly out of the gate, but it finished the strongest, no doubt assisted by the most recent disgorgement date. Its nose was bigger, full of grass and noticeable lime. The palate was big and aggressive, although at first it tasted a touch bitter and too young. It continued to put on weight and got bigger in the glass, and although I preferred the initial style of the 1964 better, both that and the following 1976 eventually fell back in the glass while the 1975 got better and better. The honey of the 1964 became ‘honeysuckle’ for the 1975 for JP, and someone likened the 1964 to a female, and the 1975 to a male accordingly (95+).

The 1976 Dom Perignon Oenotheque (disgorged in 2003) had a wheatier nose with a hint of soup, but the signature sugar came out slowly. The palate had a decent initial attack but was ultimately lighter and softer, quite tangy as well (93).

The Oenotheque program is a fairly new one for Dom Perignon, and they seem quite content to charge significantly higher prices for these late releases direct from the Domaine. Time will tell whether or not the Oenos can age like original releases; I, for one, would always prefer an original release to any wine tinkered, touched up, redone, fixed, enhanced or whatever adjective any given doctor might prescribe to this condition, like another might describe a new set of breasts. I will say that the Oenotheques are certainly quality, but I do taste the style of Oeno over the style of any given vintage. You’ll have to make your own decisions from here. One thing for sure, a bottle of Oeno will always show well, unless it went through some horror story shipment.

An Italian two-step led us into the reds, beginning with a gorgeous 1970 Giacosa Barbaresco Montefico. Its nose was delightfully complex and open, with classic Italian cigar, earth and tobacco leaf, along with chocolate and tar. There was bright cherry fruit behind it, so much so that it flirted with Burgundy with its soft, tender personality. The wine was as delicious on the palate as it was on the nose, delivering earthy and nutty flavors in tasty, fine fashion. It ultimately won the first King Angry Miss Congeniality Award, and the King is tough to please (95).

A 1971 Gaja Barbaresco Sori Tilden was poo-pooed at first, but I liked its nose right away. It was more soupy than the Giacosa, not as fresh and clean, with some winter vegetable action as well. There was lots of mushroom to its palate, more flesh and a lush and tasty overall personality (93).

Ahhhhh, Burgundy. The 1985 Echezeaux oozed wet earth, truffles, fungus, tobacco and sweet cherry in a pungent way. The palate was thinner than the nose led me to believe and had some body odor issues (92).

The 1985 Romanee St. Vivant was clearly a sibling of the Echezeaux, with a purer nose. There was more coffee to its nose, along with fresh red fruits and rainwater. Its palate was soft and beautiful, tender with its round and deceptively long personality. It got a bit dry over time in the glass, a knock on ’85 s for some, but not a problem for me, usually (94).

We were back to Italy with a pair of ‘82s, again led into the flight by a Giacosa, this time a 1982 Giacosa Barbaresco Santo Stefano Riserva. Its darker, deeper nose had brown sugared fruit, flirting with a Port meets Tokaji experiment. There were tar and leather flavors and a zippy finish, but this bottle was clearly affected and not at its best (91A).

The 1982 Giacomo Conterno Barolo Monfortino Riserva was much fresher, with tar and anise laying their claim to its aromatic profile first and foremost, so much so that hairs felt raised on the back of my neck. The palate was similar, with some leather thrown in for spanks and giggles, and its long acidity summed up this youthful and hesitant wine with one word ”“ regal (95).

A pair of Guigals rounded out our evening, beginning with a special 1985 Guigal Cote Rotie La Mouline. Beef, blood, oak, menthol, black fruits and olives were all in its layered and complex nose. Its earthy palate was long and zippy full of minerals and menthol as well. It clearly had the most material of all of the above, with plenty still to unveil (97).

The 1988 Guigal Cote Rotie La Turque had a much oakier nose with lots of pepper. Black fruits and oil permeated the nose and mouth, and while it was thick and long, the La Mouline absolutely ‘pancaked’ the La Turque. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the opposite happen. Long live La Mouline (93).

A week or so later, I found myself at Veritas, circumstantially there the same night it received three stars from the New York Times. Since I don’t review food, I’ll leave that up to you to decide, but I will say that the wine list is still going strong, alive and kicking, with a phenomenal selection that’s still priced incredibly fairly. The Hedonist and I gathered for a long overdue dinner where we happily plundered the list for one, two, three times a lady. I was looking for lightning to strike twice when I selected a 1996 D’Auvenay Chevalier Montrachet first. The price was right, and it had been one of the best white wines I ever had when I drank it chez Imperial Cellar a year or so ago. This bottle wasn’t perfect like that one, but it was still outstanding. The wine was still big and rich with amazing density, although a touch sweet and advanced. It was still a mammoth, but clearly had matured faster for whatever reasons. Being the gentlemen that we are, we drank the whole thing 🙂 (95A).

Jay wisely selected a 1993 Rousseau Gevrey Chambertin Clos St. Jacques. It was class in a glass and absolutely delicious. It was full but elegant with great fruit ”“ black, red and purple were all there. Forest, earth, minerals all played their supporting roles perfectly in this superbly sippable wine. I could drink Rousseau’s Clos St. Jacques every day, it’s basically Chambertin gone wild, in that hot, feminine way (96).

Jay was all over a 1993 Bachelet Charmes next, but I talked him into a 2002 Meo-Camuzet Vosne Romanee Cros Parantoux. I have had a recent hardon for 2002, finding the wines to be in a great spot right now, and the vintage to be the forgotten great vintage lost between 1999 and 2005”¦and Cros Parantoux, how could one go wrong? Well, I forgot the wines of Meo tend to be very unyielding in their youth, and this was certainly no exception. While tighter than a nun’s knees, the Meo slowly uncoiled aromatically and majestically. The nose had so much going on, it was just seven levels down below, and concentration was required. The palate was lean and tight, but the wine’s aromas still seduced. To be continued (93+).

The last evening of my friends and family plan took me to a familiar place, a place not so far away and very close to my heart, chez The Don, the king of all things Burgundy. There isn’t a better cellar, or a better dinner companion than The Don. With the Inspector and Mr. K also on hand, everything was set for a fine evening of food, friends and fine wine. It doesn’t get any better.

The weather was starting to cooperate in Spring-like fashion, so we started with a couple of Raveneaus on the patio. I caught the tail end of a disappointing and perplexing 1996 Raveneau Montee de Tonnerre . I love this bottling and vintage from Raveneau, but this bottle seemed confused, lacking a centerpoint. It wasn’t oxidized or cooked or corked, but it wasn’t what it should have been. It was a touch oaky, lacking definition (85?).

We soon forgot the mystery of the Montee de Tonnerre thanks to an excellent 1996 Raveneau Chablis Valmur. ‘It’s screaming oyster shells and minerals,’ Mr. K keenly observed. There was also wet earth, damp towel and yellow citrus, with just a touch of tropical in there. Everything in this wine was lightly positioned, coming together quite well. Its palate was clean and fresh, with those oyster shells taking center stage amidst other flavors similar to its aromas. This was a smooth and steady Chablis, but I was looking for a bit more oomph given the vintage’s reputation (93).

I found just that in a 1996 Roulot Meursault Perrieres. It had a fantastic, fat, buttery nose with great toast to spread it on. The mouthfeel was rich, big and lush, classy yet oily. It had the perfect amount of toast to its palate, putting the wet in the kiss in which it was framed. Decadently drinkable, this was a wine that puts the wow into white Burgundy (95+).

We sat down to dinner with a 1985 Bachelet Charmes Chambertin Vieilles Vignes. It was a nice ‘starter’ wine. I couldn’t help but think again how I was supposed to have the 1993 a night ago! The Bachelet had a beautiful, deep, dark and chunky nose with hints of satay to go with its garden and fruits, which were black and purple. Someone admired its ‘wonderful purity.’ Vitamins and musk joined the party, and Mr. K commented how it was ‘all crushed berries.’ It was quite fruity in the mouth, and this pie of a palate had a dirty slice to it, as mushroom and dill crept in. All in all, it was a smooth and balanced wine, typical of 1985 in that regard, although there was a touch of atypical to it in regard to Burgundy (93).

The night’s featured attraction was a flight of four 1949s, all Chambertin in one form or another. We began with a 1949 Faiveley Mazis Chambertin. The nose had an old, oaty (yes, oaty) , earthy, old school Faiveley style, sprinkled with lots of citrus dust. There was a little VA on the nose per the Inspector, like brown sugar meeting a barnyard feeding bag, if that makes sense. The wine was polished and fine in the mouth, mature but still on the tail end of a plateau. There were lots of vegetable flavors along with some game and meat, but the animal qualities were the side dishes. A hint of celery snuck in there to go with its soupy, bouillon flavors (91).

The 1949 Morin Chambertin actually stole the show in the flight. Its nose was much fresher and redder than the Mazis, with more sugar sprinkled about. It smelled almost buttery, flirting with a BBQ kinkiness at times. The palate was soft, tender and tasty with a nice finish and some tongue-twisting tension left that was light yet firm. The acidity seemed to gain in the glass, and the Morin provided a pleasant and unexpected ‘wow’ factor (94).

We had another Faiveley, this time a 1949 Faiveley Chambertin Conferie des Chevaliers du Tasteduvin bottling. Unfortunately, this bottle was more Madeira than red, definitely oxidized although arguably drinkable (DQ).

We finished the flight as we should, with a 1949 Leroy Chambertin. Again, there was a celery component in the nose, although with this Leroy, it came first not later. There was a lot of stalk and veggie in the nose, but the palate had more rose to its flavors, with nice citrus overtones. It was a classic 1949, tender and pleasant, silky and soft, and with time became more exotic, offering fruit tea flavors and aromas that flirted with apricot. The Inspector kept inquiring what vintage everyone thought it was, refusing to close the case. The wine was graceful and elegant, but I wanted more (92).

And more we did get, in the form of a 1990 Chave Ermitage Cuvee Cathelin. Mr. K was already setting the table with ‘one of the all-time greats, on a par with Roumier Musigny and Jayer.’ The Inspector was already sulking now that Burgundy had left the building, but he pulled himself together to observe ‘root beer float.’ I got the whole ice cream sundae thing, along with a kick of gas. The palate was thick like an oil slick full of black fruit and asphalt flavors, quite velvety on its finish with kisses of menthol. Mike came in with ‘young puppy breath,’ and I saw what he was saying. There was a lot of animalistic edges to this big-time wine (95).

There have been many other wines and nights this year, none greater in breadth and scope than La Paulee. Come to think of it, I never wrote up last year either. Stay tuned.