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.

Before my recent leg to Hong Kong, I spent a weekend far, far away in a Northern land where the cold and snow are rites of passage, and the days have much less light, although more than the rumors rumble. When night falls early, dinner comes accordingly, and I spent an incredible evening, sampling incredible wines thanks to an incredible pair of wine lovers.

The first part of the evening was a tasting, and done double blind ”“ not knowing the order (single blind) and the wines’ identity (double blind). Clues were sparingly provided, as our hosts playfully pounced on the educated guesses that sometimes became very uneducated in retrospect. That’s the beauty of a blind wine tasting; it really strips everything down to its core, whether it is the wine itself or the actual tasters.

The first wine was served as a welcome, and what a welcome it was. We were given a clue that it was a 100 year old wine, so we knew it was from 1911. It still had a great, classic nose of sweet cassis, nut, leather and tobacco. Its palate was round, seductively tender, with flavors of light citrus and more tobacco. Juha also noted ‘leather’ on the palate, and the one lady in attendance, Esse, admired its ‘fragrant’ quality. Having had the 1911 Cos d’Estournel two nights prior, this was a real treat, and another testament to the vintage. ‘Silky and smooth’ were used to describe the qualities of 1911, and while its tannins were indeed melted, the acidity still remained. There was a chocolaty edge to it for sure, and I was convinced for a bit that it was Mouton, most certainly a Pauillac. It wasn’t either. ‘Varnish’ and ‘strawberry’ came from the eager and actively participating crowd. Its really elegant style charmed most, and I was stunned to see this be a 1911 Cheval Blanc. It was such a Left Bank impersonator! I learned that it was tradition for Pekka to have as the first wine of the first great tasting of the year a 100 year-old wine. See you next year, my friend 🙂 (93).

We sat down to a pair of Champagnes, the first of which was clearly old and perhaps a touch too mature, but there was still some life left in its bones. Aromas of honey, rust, bread and pungent candle oil were in its nose. There were lots of candle wax flavors to match, and a touch of bubbles left. It had a yeasty finish, a bit unpleasant like a morning mouth kiss. Its honey qualities blossomed a bit, but this was slightly oxidized, a bit more yeasty than it should have been. ‘Tar’ came from Esse, and I started to taste some cooked sugar. While there volume in the mouth, this bottle had seen better days, and what a shame that was, as it was an incredibly rare bottle of 1928 Dom Perignon, the second vintage ever made (90A).

The second Champagne brought Clos des Goisses to mind, and it turned out to be just that. Its nose was distinctively grassy and wheaty. There were ‘nice toast and bubbles’ per one gentleman. It had a long, similar personality on the palate with flavors of white, pungent fruits and a lemon/lime finish. Juha found it, ‘energetic and pungent’ with flavors of ‘green apple.’ ‘Heavy’ and ‘Pinot-dominated’ came from the crowd for this 1961 Philipponat Clos des Goisses (92).

In Vino Veritas,
JK

I recently woke up in Vegas and flew back to New York for dinner, before leaving shortly thereafter for Europe, all in one day. Only a dinner of significant magnitude could make me adhere to such a schedule, and it was a special one, a vertical of Cos d’Estournel back to 1893, including almost all of its most significant vintages. All the more special was the fact that Jean-Guillaume Prats of Cos joined us personally for this dinner; in fact, we had moved the original date to January in order to coordinate with Jean-Guillaume’s schedule.

There is probably only one man in the wine industry who could empathize with the day of which I was in the midst, and that would be Jean-Guillaume. We must be distant cousins, as my middle name is also William. He is a true ambassador for Bordeaux, dare I say ‘the’ ambassador. He knows every country, every city, every market for Bordeaux and has been to them all on multiple occasions. A typical itinerary might be Johannisberg to Dubai to Mumbai to Bangkok in five or six days or something extreme of the sorts. No one is out there like him, seemingly carrying all of Bordeaux on his shoulders.

He has also made significant investments and improvements in his Chateau, which I recently visited in December. It is one of the most breathtaking visits in all of Bordeaux today, a marriage of custom and innovation, impressive being an understatement. He is truly one helping lead Bordeaux into the 21st Century. In case you haven’t noticed, I admire him a lot.

I also admire his wines, speaking of which, the vertical. The first flight was comprised of ‘lesser’ yet fascinating vintages, many of which were far from lesser. We started with the 1933. It had a great nose of lovely, old, mature fruit with aromas of carob, cassis, sweet dust and spice. Its flavors were tender and old, and Bob admired its ‘cedar still coming through.’ Sweet rust flavors lingered lightly on its finish. While its nose was better than the palate, it was quite delightful and still (90) points, by a nose heh heh.

The 1937 was oxidized, even though I could respect the architecture (DQ). All the wines came from one cellar from Northern Europe, a most reliable source of great wines. When wines are old, these things happen, and the only thing to do is move on.

We moved on to the 1942, which Jean-Guillaume found ‘very tannic,’ in a positive way. Bob also admired its ‘structure,’ and its deep, dark fruit got a ‘superb’ as well. There were great nut aromas along with some fresh greens. The palate was rich, medium-bodied and possessed great balance. It was impressive, all the more so considering what was going on in France at the time. It flirted with 95 points (94+).

The 1943 was equally as impressive, ‘similar to the ’42’ as Don observed, but seemingly taking it up a notch with its big, rich personality. I loved its coffee nose, which also had secondary rye aromas. There were great chocolate flavors on its big, rich palate, but as time went on, the ’42 was clearly the ‘43’s equal, if not better. Interestingly enough, the ’43 was preferred by all guests at a 2 to 1 margin, as did I, at first (94).

The 1948 was another excellent nose, more wheaty with some underlying caramel. Old wood exerted itself aromatically. While leaner than the last two, the ’48 was still excellent, also wheaty on its palate. One found it ‘the best with food’ (93).

Jean-Guillaume shared some of his wisdom and perspective about this first flight. ‘The beauty about this flight is that it has nothing to do with how the wines are made today. These were not made by winemakers; they were made by farmers. Many estates were very poorly run, and wine was often a secondary source of income. (The two war vintages) needed time to come around. There was no oak then, only old wood. No one could afford it like today.”

The next flight had five wines, but only three were consumed. Alas, the 1893 and 1926 were oxidized (DQ). With 23 wines on tap, and some special showings already, no one was worried. Ironically, I had had the 1926 almost a year ago exactly from the very same cellar and gave it a respectable (94). It’s old wine, you never know. There’s quite a bit I drink that you never hear about, you know 😉

The 1898 was toasty and elegant, suffering from a bit of sulfur at first, possibly reconditioned. There was lots of popcorn with a touch of honey there, and its palate was medium-bodied, honeyed in a light way, possessing flavors of old red fruits and books. Graceful and gorgeous, it was a setting sun of a wine (92).

The 1911 had a fabulous nose, modest yet stylish. ‘Green tea’ and ‘vegetal’ components were noted, and I found light, dry weeds, cedar, fresh field and a touch of manure, in a good way. The wine was flat out delicious, and while its elegant personality might have been dwarfed a bit by its two bigger bookends, this was the wine of the flight of which I would want to drink a whole bottle first (93).

The 1919 had an oaky nose full of wood, dominated by it. I wondered if this was left in the vat a bit too long, being just after World War I and such. It had good texture, but its flavors came across sickly to me, but it was ‘rich and full.’ There were a lot of 1919 fans over time, however, as it really integrated in the glass and put on weight, developing chocolate flavors and a smoky finish. It stayed woody at its core, though (92).

Jean-Guillaume remarked how 1893 was the earliest harvest ever (in August!) , and then went on to comment how Bordeaux has always been marked by eras of prosperity, followed by the exact opposite. From 1725-1855, Bordeaux struggled to make its way, but after the 1855 classification up until 1870, helped in part by the Paris Expo, Bordeaux became the great wine of the world. From 1870 until 1982, there were two World Wars, and decades such as the 1930s, 1970s and perhaps one or two more where there were no great vintages. From 1982 onwards, ‘great wines were made every year,’ and with 1982 began the age of America, led by the ascension of Robert Parker to the top of the wine critic world, beginning another age of prosperity. That prosperity has continued on until today, except beginning in 2005, the age of China began. It was a fascinating perspective.

The next flight was perhaps the evening’s most fascinating, beginning with the always fascinating comparison of 1928 versus 1929. The 1928 had a big, deep nose and was clearly in a league of its own. There were great, dusty aromas of vanilla and rich berry fruit. Its palate was big and rich, delicious in every which way with long, long acidity. Still young, the 1928 was outstanding stuff, classic and ‘one of the greatest wines of the vintage,’ if he did say so himself :). Comparing the two vintages, Jean-Guillaume continued and admired the ‘freshness of the 1928, but the 1929 is slightly fatter’ (97).

The 1929 was no slouch, either. Jean-Guillaume found the 1929 to be like ‘Pinot Noir,’ and that was an excellent descriptor for its silky, voluptuous style. The nose was incredibly seductive, super forward with its explosive aromatics of chocolate wafer and rosy red fruits. Bill also concurred, ‘more of a Burgundy nose.’ So was the palate! This was a delicious, special wine, round and lush with a kiss of vanilla on the finish that left me wanting more (96).

The 1934 had a minty playfulness to its nose along with sexy spice. Bob found ‘cloves.’ I have always liked ‘34s, even if they were never outstanding, and this was a perfect example. The palate was clean, elegant and fresh, and there were nice dust and earth flavors. Jean-Guillaume found it ‘quite charming with great minerality.’ It was both pleasant and pleasing, ‘good wine,’ as Bob eloquently summed up (93).

The 1947 was thankfully our last oxidized wine of the night (DQ) , and we quickly moved on to the 1952, which had an oaty nose. There was nice cassis there and big volume. The palate had good richness and flesh, and its fruit was still wound. There were excellent tannins still from this tannic vintage, ‘what it is,’ as Jean-Guillaume succinctly put it (93).

The four benchmark vintages of the post World War II era were next, beginning with the 1945, which had another great nose with lovely cherry fruit. There was a decadence to its sweetness, and purple joined the party along with baked bread. The palate was a little lighter than I expected but still nice, possessing dust, citrus and ‘a little cough syrup’ flavors. The 1945 was tasty and got better in the glass but still did not possess the density of many other ‘45s. Jean-Guillaume remarked how 1945 had very low yields due to the war (94).

The 1959 was quite gamy, with aromas of anise and black licorice. There were jammy flavors of overripe plums and fig. I wasn’t sure if this bottle was 100% perfect, and Jean-Guillaume was definitely in the ‘have had a better bottle club’ (92?).

The 1961 had what I call attic and cobweb in the nose, along with a touch of pungent, musky goodness. In the mouth, it was classic yet tender, tasty and long but not spectacular (93).

The 1982, however, was spectacular and unexpectedly stole the show in this flight. This was a great ’82. I remember about six or seven years ago when the ’82 Cos stole the show from the ’82 Mouton in a blind head-to-head, and 1982 Mouton is certainly a great, great wine. It was good to see this vintage still exceeding its so-called bar. The nose was full of smoke, nuts, cassis, wafer, chocolate, vanilla and youth. The palate was big, rich, long and lush, both weighty and heavy yet still agile. Delicious flavors of rich milk chocolate lingered in the mouth, while Jean-Guillaume noted some ‘Indian curry spiciness.’ He concurred that this was a great bottle, putting it in context by calling it ‘a new point in a new cycle’ (97).

The last flight was crowned the ‘Four Horsemen of the Last Decade’ and began, of course, with the 2000. My notes are a bit briefer for this flight, as it was that time of the night. Jean-Guillaume commented that ‘we are starting a new tasting with nothing in common with before.’ The 2000 was classic and clean, young and excellent but a bit less than the usual Cos standard, given the vintage. A bit of windex clouded its overall expression, and Jean-Guillaume conceded that it was the ‘weakest’ of the flight (93).

The 2003 was typically forward and sweet, almost Napa-esque with its sweetness and richness. Lush and delicious, this was rock n’ roll Bordeaux (95).

The 2005 was like a combination of the previous two wines and clearly the most concentrated. I loved its rich, chocolaty palate, which had the best of all words (96+).

The controversial 2009 was deep, sweeter and also chocolaty, and I could see the now famous ‘Harlan’ reference. However, this was still Bordeaux, and it won’t crack up in ten years, that’s for sure. This wine definitely has huge potential, if it can get a breast reduction naturally over time ha ha (95+).

While in general, I tend to prefer 2000 and its more classic style, as far as Cos goes, 2005 is definitely the one, and shows the greatness of that vintage. It has all the characteristics of a truly great vintage. It was ‘the hottest decade in human history,’ Jean-Guillaume noted. What about the upcoming decade? ‘2010 was the driest vintage ever, the vines were stressed from a lack of water (which usually produces great fruit, by the way). It is more 2005 than 2009; there will be extraordinary Pomerols in particular.’

Well, there you have it. It was a great evening featuring wines from a great Chateau that is led by a great man. Who’s on first?

Every New Year’s Eve I find myself in the same place, year after year. No matter where I am in the world, I make sure that I am landing the afternoon of the 31st in New York City. And why wouldn’t I? When the King of Champagne comes calling for an evening of celebration, it is always wise to RSVP accordingly. It is safe to say that no one has opened up more great Champagne for more people than Rob. Maybe Juhlin has tasted more, and that’s a maybe, but I doubt he’s shared his portfolio as openly and effortlessly as the KOC.

Now Big Boy isn’t exactly someone I would call introverted, but trust me when I tell you that’s exactly what you don’t want him to be when you are a guest in his home, on New Year’s Eve especially. I was there early, and some interesting and eclectic non-vintage ”“ make that multi-vintage ”“ Krugs started things off curiously, though not incredibly impressively. A case of halves of multi-vintage from the 1970s was a bit oxidized, bereft of bubbles, although its nose seduced at first. There were warm, inviting caramel and vanilla notes initially that soon waned into a thin palate lacking substance. The thing about multi-vintages is that they can age”¦and be spectacular, as Bruce the Returner reminded me. It’s just that these particular half-bottles weren’t. So I was quickly onto a multi-vintage Krug Rose from the 1980’s. This was delightful, clean and fresh, light yet with an extreme finish. It maintained delicious strawberry dust flavors, and I took a quick refill (93).

A 1966 Bollinger led us into welcome vintage territory, but didn’t make me feel welcome with its simple and one-dimensional palate. It was mature and pleasant in the nose, but another wine that didn’t deliver upon the promise of what it should have/could have been (90?).

The 1966 Billecart Salmon Cuvee Nicolas Francois set our course back on target with an intriguing nose of honey, vanilla and lilac, all deftly woven. There was nice sprite to its palate, with lean, sweet wheat flavors, almost yellow carob. Its finish was lemony, and Olof noted, ‘copper,’ although I wasn’t sure if he was talking about his investment strategy. Big Boy said something about a ten-case parcel, and I think he was talking about his investment strategy lol (94).

Then came the magnums. Everything from here on out was served in magnum or jeroboam. We stayed on route ’66 with a 1966 Louis Roederer Cristal. It was another mature nose, in a heavy white molasses direction and not as expressive as old Cristals usually are. Its palate was more like it, still tasty with orange blossoms, game and a sweet, big, nutty finish. It clearly had the best density of anything so far, and the guy with the five Harleys that Vince McMahon was looking for took off his horns to declare that ‘the ’66 rocks.’ Nonetheless, it was an affected bottle, one that had the most sophisticated palates abuzz with discussion due to its two-sided story (95M-A).

A 1971 Ruinart de Brimont Reserve de Vicomte was the first of our 1971s, as the rest of the evening would only be on the ‘71s and ‘61s. Actually, more ‘ones’ were planned in honor of 2011, but I only made it a little past 2AM. I need to get that report, come to think of it. I wasn’t sure if the Ruinart was a different Ruinart house, as the label was completely different than anything I had seen from Ruinart but apparently Brimont and its vineyards is the ancestral home of Ruinart. However, this was an entry-level vintage Champagne and not the clearly not the ‘tete de Cuvee.’ It had an apple-y nose, and while nice and smooth, it didn’t stand out. Bruce politically hailed it as ‘a good example of a great vintage’ (91M).

The 1971 Dom Perignon began a monster streak of six killer Champagnes in a row from Big Boy, much like Derek Jeter delivers during World Series. Rob added six runs scored and twelve RBIs on top with the array that followed. The DP was classic with its sugary, vanilla wafer nose. It was rich and delicious, full of granulated sugar flavors to the point where I thought about it making one heck of a Bollini Royale or whatever mixed drinks they make with bubbly. I happen to always drink it straight, so I don’t really know these things. Although a touch sweet, all in all, it was outstanding (95M).

The 1971 Dom Perignon Rose was an ‘infant’ per Lady Agah, the artist formerly known as the Angry Chick. It’s 2011, time to reinvent yourself, in case you didn’t get the memo. The DP Rose had wet earth aromas with light strawberry ones to match, both deep and coiled, seemingly ready to strike. Its palate was huge with ‘insane’ structure, with enough acidity for a college university chemistry program. Dry and powerful, this was a perfect bottle of this wine, taking off like a rocket ship on its jet-fueled finish. There were gorgeous flavors unfolding as it opened, particularly in the red and rose direction, with more earth as well. Lady Agah continued, ‘it’s like a red wine,’ paying its density and structure a compliment. It was a beautiful monster, indeed. I’m sure its score will improve with time, but it’s just not quite there yet, there being ‘best ever’ and 97 points and up (96+M).

The magnum of 1971 Krug Collection answered the bell swinging, and was already there with a signature nose of mountainous, sweet and complex vanilla aromas. Super sexy white fruits and nuts provided the landscape on which they sat. The palate was another huge one, with big, rich and ‘wondrous’ fruit. Massive and long, its buttery fruit was just starting to show some skin in the mouth, and the skin wasn’t soft, but damn it felt good. It did open well, taking the definition of delicious just one step further with each sip (97M).

The 1971 Salon was served a bit cold and left a few searching for more in it, but it was shut down like New York City during last week’s blizzard. The nose was intense and wound with stony, anise aromas, but it was unyielding. It felt like we were bothering it, disturbing it too soon, as its palate was incredibly shy and wound, at first tickled by a steak of wood. While rich, big and long, it was too tight. This particular magnum didn’t shine as brightly as Salon can, but it was still outstanding (95M).

The next wine was so tasty that I invented a word in its honor, ‘yow.’ That’s yum and wow together, by the way. This magnum of 1961 Dom Perignon was an extremely rare, original and non ‘Wedding Cuvee’ – Charles’ and Diana’s, that is. The Royals snapped up most of the production for the wedding, a wise choice, indeed, as Bruce declared that this was ‘one of the Greatest Champagnes ever made,’ and he would know. I thought about it for a second, and after one sip, I concurred. 1961 has always blown me away, but I never put it in the context of the greatest of all-time until then. The nose was fantastic, with a wealth of gold encased in a young personality despite it being an original bottling. There was great fruit here, with none of the excessive sugar of the ’71. Its flavors were rich, big, bold and all balanced by superb acidity. Somehow, despite all of its flavor, it managed to retain a delicacy to its personality. Spectacular stuff (98M).

The last Champagne that I had for the evening was the one served pre-stroke of midnight, a jeroboam of 1961 Pommery, sabered by Big Boy himself, which is no easy task for a jeroboam. Upon sabering the jero in one stroke, the King of Champagne announced, ‘there will be books about me when I’m dead.’ That’s Big Boy style :). Everyone was feeling great, and 2011 was upon us, and the Pommery held up its part of the bargain, delivering another special experience. Its fruit was sweet, yellow and dusty with aromas of almost lemon squares. It was both mature and young, in that sweet spot that I’d like to think I’ll be for another thirty plus years myself. The palate was special and outstanding, a great drink as pre-70s Pommerys usually are (95J).

What would be a Big Boy way to ring in the New Year? Twin jeros of 1971 , of course. Insert your own bomb sound here. Those that have known me for a long time know my love affair with 1971 s is no secret. Just because it is my birth year is mere coincidence! The 1971 s are spectacular, and these two jeros cemented that fact at the bottom of the Hudson River for any of those that denied it :). The 1971 Richebourg began 2011 in fine fashion with an inviting nose of old yet fresh Burgundy fruit. Dank red fruits danced about in a muddy nose of tomato, rose and sea salt. The jero was a little dirty at first, but that is usually a good thing after midnight. The palate opened up into a saucy mouthful of red fruits with a light caramel coating. Long and distinguished, it was a special wine (95J).

There was nowhere to go after the jeroboam of 1971 La Tache was opened. It cornered us all, towering over us with its greatness. I have had the good fortune of having this wine about fifteen times in my life, and I cannot wait for the next fifteen. About ten years after having it for the first time, it is still every drop as good. Consistently 98 points ever since I met it, this jeroboam was no different. The breed, the stature, the depth of concentration and character in the nose”¦it could only be La Tache. Every positive descriptor you could ever say about an older Burgundy and about 1971 in general was right here. I will end this note by only saying that everyone should make sure they drink a good bottle of this before all is said and done (98J).

There were a couple other big bottles too Big Boy for print, but by that point all was said and done. It was another memorable beginning to what will most certainly be another memorable year, and many thanks again to the most generous collector on Earth for sharing from his extraterrestrial cellar.