Whenever I go to Hong Kong, there always seem to be enough great wines on the dinner table for their own section in the auction, and while it started innocently enough this past November with a couple of incredible bottles on Monday, by Tuesday evening we were in full cruise mode, with a dinner on the water in the middle of Hong Kong harbor. Spectacular stuff, indeed.

We got off to a great start with a few bottles of 1997 Salon, and this was the best of the three times that I have had the pleasure of trying this newly-released bubbly so far. A remarkably tender and drinkable wine already, it got a little grassy in the glass. Drink this Salon over the next ten or twenty years while you let your 1996s age (93).

We sat down to an official flight of Salon, beginning with the 1988 Salon. It had a nose of bread soaked in extra virgin olive oil, and Raymond noted ‘vinegar.’ Alex picked up on ‘biscuit’ amongst its pungent white fruits. While balanced, elegant and long, it was clean but lighter in character for me, although a couple people preferred it for the flight. The Poet noted its ‘nice finish but light body’ as well, and I felt disappointed by this bottle overall (91).

The 1985 Salon stepped it up a couple notches with a more forward and expressive nose that possessed pungent lanolin, nutty white meats and fruits, as well as hanging game qualities. Its creamy palate was long and balanced, with Vincent agreeing, ‘full-bodied and rounded.’ Other quotes from the crowd included ‘peachy’ and ‘gamy/earthy.’ In the glass, the 1985 got all the more luscious and delicious (95+).

1983 is a vintage in Champagne where not everyone declared a vintage year, but this 1983 Salon made me wish more did. It was noticeably darkest in color. It was certainly a mature wine with the wild game character in full effect, supported by wet wool. The oily, rich palate was full of deliciously decadent white fruits, gently fallen from the tree after hanging a couple of days too long. There was great sweetness on its palate, with honey and oil everywhere, ready for a Girls Gone Wild DVD. The 1983 was definitely on a plateau, and Alex concurred, but it held remarkably well over time in the glass, which I didn’t expect. I doubt it will get any better, though, and I wouldn’t hesitate to enjoy it now (94).

A flight of that Enlgish claret was next, starting with the elegant 1979 Palmer, which had a pretty nose. Fresh, clean fruit with nice, light cassis and a hint of slate danced softly in the nose while coffee snuck in the back door. Its palate was tender, smooth, balanced and classy, still youthful, and ‘fresh’ and ‘clean’ made their way into my notes again. It was chocolaty with a delicious hint of marzipan, but it didn’t hold that well in the glass, ie, drink up (93).

The 1964 Palmer was like walking into a freshly painted room, then exiting and walking right into a barnyard filled with hay. Gil was ‘mushroom’ farming next door lol, and the palate was better than I expected given the fading reputation of the ’64 vintage in the Left Bank. The Poet remarked that he thought this wine ‘was picked after the rain,’ accounting for its better than expected quality. There was more slate on the palate, but still a tasty flash of fruit, along with chocolate flavors and a sawdusty finish. It held well, too (93).

The legendary 1961 Palmer clearly had more density and volume than the others, with hints of wheat germ, forest and what can only be described as a cassis fountain of youth. The wine was absolutely delicious, and its acidity stood out like a center amongst point guards. A hint of tomato and much redder fruits rounded out this champion of a Margaux. Gil cooed, ‘there is nothing quite like when an old wine drinks young.’ Amen (97).

We got even older with a great bottle of 1929 Latour. It had a reserved nose, unfolding into cedar, charcoal, tobacco and chunky fruit. The palate was rich and still young, eliciting a few wows from the crowd. There was this sexy, raspberry kink and a ‘beetroot sappiness’ per Alex. Creamy and fleshy, this delicious and outstanding Latour had wild cherry and cigar flavors finishing it off. What was most remarkable was that it held well in the glass, too (96).

The 1957 Latour had a gorgeous nose for a not so wildly-regarded vintage, possessing the walnuts, chocolate, cassis and class reminiscent of ’59. The nose was classic in every regard. The palate was lean but still pretty, and its acidity held things together on the slaty finish. A little dill crept in, and the Poet noted ‘ginger flowers’ (92).

The 1962 Latour was from another underrated vintage, a ‘shadow’ year hidden behind the great 1961, and it had another great nose, milder and milky. It was both a little floral and a little stinky, but then the cedar took over with a smokehouse feel. The fruit was lean at first, but it gained density in the glass, particularly on its thick, cedary finish (93).

Things got stinkier with the 1970 Latour, which can be that way. It was grassy and needed extra air for the wet sheep to dry off their coats, but once it was worked out (ie aired and swirled) , it was better. There was still a pleasant wine here, with nice wafer and chocolate flavors and a balanced, lightly gritty finish. It was lighter than I remembered, however. It would prove to be better out of double magnum in Rio de Janeiro last week, but that’s for another article (93).

We switched gears to a 1949 Ausone. It made everyone take notice with its youthful and remarkable nose. Charles summed it up aptly, ‘Absolutely incredible, so exotic with aromas you don’t expect.’ Vincent continued the travel theme with, ‘ginger, leather and Sri Lankan jasmine.’ This great Ausone was eerily transcendent and complex with ripe, rich red fruits and a kinky, sweet sexiness that just wouldn’t quit. It ended up capturing the most first place votes on the evening, although there were a lot of diverging opinions on that topic (96).

The 1948 Margaux was like a coffee shop in Holland with marijuana and old money notes in its nose. Oatmeal was the healthy side of its herbal edge. The palate was fleshy with hints of exotic fruits, and there was a gorgeous honeyed glaze to its finish. I was quite impressed with this wine, which showed better than I thought it would, and it received a surprising number of first-place votes as well (94).

We ended this fabulous evening with a pair of Burgundies, beginning with a 1966 Mommesin Clos de Tart, which took us into the wild open with grainy and gamy aromas. It was rich and fleshy with almost a touch of cough syrup. ‘Great freshness and finish,’ proclaimed Charles, and it was at least one person’s favorite wine, as you can’t keep those Burg men down! It was a touch gamy for me to be outstanding, but close (94).

The 1966 Vogue Musigny Vieilles Vignes suffered slightly in comparison to the Clos de Tart and was a touch oaky and very reductive on the nose. The palate was better and had good density but was a touch stewy. This was clearly not a perfect bottle, but it could not take away from our perfect night (92A).

We had such a great night that a couple nights later, we had to do it again, with a different set of wines, of course.

A magnum of 1981 Krug Collection got us off to a great start with a nose full of vanilla bean and toasty oak. The palate was a touch lean at first, still incredibly racy and youthful, but the honey flavors got spicier and fuller by the time the evening finished. All in all, it was a tasty and impressive wine (94+M).

The 1969 Krug Collection magnum had a similar personality that was more on the cola side of things, and its vanilla qualities in the nose were much more forward, so forward that I started blushing! In the mouth, the wine was still very fresh and firm, with tender fruits and an edgy Krug Collection, rocket-like finish. Some oxygen mellowed the wine out decadently; this was a complete wine, as it really came together in the glass, becoming creamier and exceptionally delicious (96M).

A trio of Palmers commenced with a gorgeous 1955 Palmer. The enticing nose plied with perfume, sweet corns and delicate fruit, leading to a rich palate of chocolate and caramel flavors, held together by stylized structure. This was a balanced and elegant older wine that seemed to pick up steam over time, and Michael noted that it was ‘surprisingly fresh.’ He would know, as he is one of HK’s best drinkers and palates, so much so I have crowned him ‘Mr. Magic’ (95)!

The 1982 Palmer was classic all around and had a lovely cassis nose with a touch of dustiness. The palate was softer than expected, creamy and almost toasty, turning a bit dirty in a good way. The finish was balanced and smooth, but the nose was the better part of this for now (93).

The 1983 Palmer was rather grassy and almost stinky on the nose, but the palate was cleaner and its finish even better with great length and structure. The plum fruits were carefully concealed by finely delineated tannins. The 1982 was more of a now wine, but everyone could see the ’83 getting better with time (94).

We were then privileged to have an exceptional bottle of 1952 Latour. The nose was a perfect combination of chocolate, walnut, pencil and slate. The long, zippy tannins and acidity kept this wine singing in the mouth and throughout the night. It was a spectacular wine with a long, nervy finish, possessing great tension and balance – simply great (96)!

The 1952 La Mission Haut Brion was not a perfect bottle, but you could see a great wine underneath its oxidized qualities. There were very mature prunes and dates and touch of Madeira and old chocolate pudding. It would have probably been 95+ points if a completely sound bottle.

The surprise of the evening was a very fresh and pleasant 1967 Mouton Rothschild, which had nice spice once its touch of Windex blew off. The palate was lean, but still a fighting machine. It was a balanced and tasty wine with a gently lingering finish. It just goes to show that great producers make good, age-worthy wines every vintage (92+).

The generally, more highly regarded 1966 Mouton Rothschild suffered slightly in comparison. It was a sound bottle but not the best example of this wine that I have had. A slightly muddy, chocolaty nose was lightened by herbal kisses and a hint of wood. Lean, clean and fresh, but ultimately simple, it left me wanting something more (90).

The 1961 Mouton Rothschild lived up to the billing of a legendary vintage and had an outstanding nose of tobacco, chocolate, dry-aged meat and clover honey. A long and elegant structure held the rich, fleshy flavors together. This was clearly the wine of the night, and a superlative example of this great Chateau (97).

In comparison to the ‘61, the 1982 Mouton Rothschild seemed like a barrel sample or an unruly child. Little brother had a long way to go, even though there was massive concentration for an ’82. It’s tough to drink a ‘young’ wine after several perfectly mature ones, but there was still clearly a lot of upside here, and I could not argue with anyone who says that Mouton was the best First Growth of this legendary vintage (96+).

We again ended with a pair of Burgundies, this time some 1985s, and both s. The 1985 Romanee St. Vivant had beautiful menthol aromas, almost vitamin C too, and a rose hip nose that got spicier and more beef bouillon-y. The creamy, ripe palate had a touch of brett and got a little dirtier as time went on (94).

The 1985 Richebourg was a bigger wine with brighter acidity, which was a good thing, as I was getting dimmer at this point! It was a beefy wine with a pleasant autumnal glaze, picking up more mint. Mr. Magic was ‘liking the long finish’ as was I, and I was officially finished (95+).

Time to do it again!

For many years now, I have heard the story of this particular batch of 1945 Petrus. When Wilf Jaeger tells you that it is the best bottle that he’s ever had, it’s hard not to listen. It just so happens this batch rested comfortably in the ‘Imperial Cellar’ for many years, and for most of those many years I had to hear Wilf and Eric tell me over and over how great it was, digging my desire a little bit deeper with each recollection of their magical evening, which also saw 1945 Trotanoy as a distinguished runner-up.

Low and behold, the last four bottles turned up in our record-setting May auction, and immediately after the sale, I made my move on the buyer, who happened to be the top buyer of the sale. I asked if we could share one together, my treat, as I had to have this bottle before it disappeared forever like that girl you never asked out in high school. I was determined for that not to happen again. Call me a cork dork if you must :).

My first evening in Hong Kong this past week saw the 1945 Petrus make its way to the dinner table, at long last. First, we started with a 1955 Leroy Mazis Chambertin, a generous contribution from my newfound best friend. The Leroy had a truffly, mushroomy, sous bois nose at first, with some dirty earth and soupy bouillon followed by secondary rose and citrus aromas. Its acidity was still extraordinary, and my host told me after my first sip the story of how one evening, this bottle showed even better than all the top Bordeaux, including a 1947 Cheval Blanc. ‘The power of Burgundy,’ I wrote to myself. The wine got better and better with each sip, shedding some of its dirt to reveal chocolaty flavors with borders of various nuts. Hints of tomato joined the trifecta of citrus, chocolate and earth flavors, and the wine fleshed out in the glass as well. However, it couldn’t top the Bordeaux that would follow on this night, and possibly even suffered a point accordingly (94).

Five years in my making, and sixty-five years in the bottle, it was finally time for this 1945 Petrus. This was an original, no doubt about it bottle. Perfection came to mind upon first whiff, as its nose was a kaleidoscope of greatness, as if every great quality from all the Pomerols I’ve ever had were right there in my glass. Aromas of plum, chocolate and royal garden marched into my nose with style and precision. Fine was an understatement, as its elegance and breed were of an Olympic equestrian level, carrying over to its fruit, which was elegant but at the same time beyond wealthy. Its concentration was golden, as in bars not bracelets. I could not get over its density, both in the nose and on the palate. The 1945 was all that and then some, and it seduced me like a gorgeous woman whispering in my ear, ‘I’ll be whatever you want me to be.’ Its color was still dark and vibrant; this wine could last another fifty years without issue. Its royal garden qualities upgraded to Versailles status, and flavors of mocha abounded on its dense and deft palate, with nice traces of chalk on its finish. There were pinches of wild herbs emerging, in a rosemary meets wheat way, as well as a baked goodness in a coconut direction, but not quite coconut. Our sommelier noted, ‘strawberry.’ The chef at Otto E Mezzo, Hong Kong’s version of Mario Batali, gushed that it was ‘so young and so healthy.’ What was so great about this bottle, and this vintage for the Right Bank in general, is that it still possessed a tension to its fruit, unlike 1947, which produced concentrated and much sweeter wines in general. I can only hope to taste this nectar again in my lifetime, but I strongly suspect that it will be difficult to achieve the heights that this bottle achieved. It touched my soul (99+).

It was a nice warm-up for the week that followed, a casual Monday that was anything but. It’s Hong Kong, they drink it.

Far, far away in a remote corner of the world lies a cellar so incredible, so deep and so massive that only one word could describe it ”“ forbidden. Most mortals will never get to sample even a handful of the wines buried away in this constantly growing collection. 100,000 bottles is a very conservative estimate, but even more impressive than the quantity was the quality of what I experienced. The dinner I had recently was worth a lifetime of travel; thankfully, I didn’t need a visa, and diplomatic immunity was provided. History often rewrites itself, but this was an evening which could never be changed. Everything was perfect; the wine, the food, the company – is there anything else that life requires?

As always, Champagne was the way with which we started, beginning with a NV Jacques Selosses Contraste Brut. Selosses is a true grower champagne and also biodynamic, I was told. The Contraste was aggressive in its nose in an alluring fashion. The palate was full bodied, clearly an ode to its 100% pinot noir composition. Big and brawny, it pleasingly overflowed with fresh citrus and racy strawberry flavors. I recently did an evening of Selosses Champagnes, over twenty-five of them as a matter of fact. We had multiple versions of Contraste (ie different disgorgement dates) , as well as other MV (multi-vintage) Selosses concoctions, and my assessment of them is that these MV bottlings don’t improve with age. They are delicious, unique and enjoyable right away, but the vintage Champagnes are the ones that improve in extraordinary fashion. Unfortunately, there are so few of the vintage bottlings that the world doesn’t really know Selosses. He is a true Champagne genius, but his insistence on making the majority of his bottlings solera-style and multi-vintage is hurting his legacy and denying much of the world his brilliance (93).

A rare 1990 Dom Perignon Reserve de l’Abbaye drew us deeper into this mysterious evening. I had no idea what was in store upon my arrival, and I certainly had no idea what this bottling was. I soon learned that it was a special bottling from Moet specifically for the tastes of the Japanese market. On a sliding ‘mousse’ scale, this was less bubbly than most and felt on the light side. It was clean and sweeter in a way that reminded me of a cremant style, but it was a bit saccharin-y. We clinked our glasses together in appreciation of the experience (90).

There were only two white Burgundies in our lineup, but it might as well have only been one. Our first was one from a master, a wine that even I rarely encounter. I think I have had this wine on only two other occasions, and that includes every vintage ever made. There is only one barrel made of this wine every year, and the 1992 Leflaive Montrachet lived up to the hype. While many 1992s are riding off into the sunset, this 1992 was still ascending. It had an amazing nose that gave off seductive signals of butter, citrus and yeast. Smoke and exotic spice followed. Its spice qualities kept unfolding, so diverse that this wine was worthy of its own supermarket section. This was a mesmerizing Montrachet that was rich, clean and vivacious. There is no doubt that Leflaive is the king of the ring for the 1992 vintage, make that queen. The acidity was still fresh, and this thick, attention-grabbing wine just kept getting better and better and better and better (98).

With a 1961 Palmer, the gates of Bordeaux were thrust open. Our host called it ‘very Burgundian,’ and indeed it was. Its fruit was so sensual and tender, with citrus, cherry and carob each content with their own space on this classic wine’s aroma wheel. On the palate, this bottle had a soft yet voluptuous nature to it with smooth flavors of carob, citrus, and tenderly aged fruit. It was a bit easier than I remembered this wine being but still divine. The effects of our host’s generous hospitality were comfortably sinking in by now (95).

We were treated to another wine from this legendary vintage, this time a 1961 Haut Brion. Perfection came to mind, as this bottle was as perfect as it could be. Of course, those of you that have been reading my notes for many years know that I only believe in the pursuit of perfection, as opposed to perfection itself. This bottle was perfect in that I do not think more enjoyment could be had from any bottle of this wine, anywhere/anyhow. Aromas sprang from the glass; this was oozing coffee, chocolate, carob, and wafer. There was also great spice, and classic yet light slate and gravel to this rich, saucy nose. Velvety richness followed suit on the palate, which was delectably dense and had a mouthfeel that made me moan in ecstasy. Damn, this was good and ‘perfect,’ too (98).

We had forgotten our other 1992 white, a 1992 Jadot Chevalier Montrachet Demoiselles. It served the purpose of a refreshing, midday shower, preparing us for the rest of our meal, also the rest of our day. Its nose gave off a very exotic perfume of floral spice, citrus and something reminiscent of Chinese tea and fortune cookies. The palate was framed with stone roses around its edges, finishing with an interwoven stream of honey and delicate tropical fruit (93).

We had to have at least one red Burgundy on this increasingly magical evening, so why not a 1966 La Tache. True to form, it was a touch dirty as ’66 LT is prone to be. While a bit earthy, the nose was still fabulous and provided rich tomato, spice, leather and chocolaty aromas. Flavors of cherry oil and assorted nuts lingered, and this class act’s finish was endearing (95).

The last two wines of our evening were perfect strangers, brought together by fate and the Forbidden Cellar. We soared to new heights with the 1945 Mouton Rothschild that followed. This was everything this bottle was supposed to be, as sexy as sexy can be. Menthol, mint, and olive wafted from its beguiling nose. The palate was rich yet so smooth. It wowed with its cedar spice. It was delicate yet forceful, with light leather flavors. Meaty and spectacular, this wine was as rewarding as they come, delivering rich and fleshy caramel flavors on the finish with divine forest edges. It was absolutely delicious, an anywhere, anytime bottle (99).

There aren’t many wines that can follow a ’45 Mouton in fine fashion, but that’s exactly what the 1961 Jaboulet Hermitage La Chapelle did. Wow, I had finally had this great wine again. The nose on this thoroughbred had coffee and royal garden intermingled with Indian spice and sumptuous dark chocolate. The palate was rich and thick with loads and layers of roasted black and purple fruit flavors. Unique oil and citrus qualities tickled on its long, lingering finish. It took the concentration up a notch. Yummmmm (99).

Every bottle was in great condition and delivered everything one could want from these wines. While there are no plans for the Forbidden Cellar to sell anytime soon, I can safely say that I will be visiting it often. But you’ll have to kill me first before I let you know where it is!

It is another exciting weekend here in Hong Kong. This September sale is a microcosm for the Acker world right now, East meeting West, two of the greatest cellars from opposite sides of the world coming together in one spectacular auction. Last night, we celebrated with wines from our ‘East’ collection, what is to our knowledge the largest collection of wine ever offered from a Chinese collector. Times they are a changin’, and we are excited to be at the forefront of it all.

We had three incredible Champagnes as cocktails, a 1976 Lanson (94), 1961 Mumm’s (94) and a 1929 Pommery. The Lanson and Mumm’s were both excellent and still fresh, but the Pommery was an out-of-body experience. There were no bubbles left in this magical Champagne, but that didn’t matter. This was like a great old Montrachet, except better. It was so rich yet so tender, voluptuous yet svelte, rich yet delicate. Its sweetness was perfect, and it lingered like a great sunset. Whoever thinks Champagne cannot age as long as red wine needs to have a bottle of this. It was unreal (98).

We sat down to some reds, where we had a Noah’s Ark procession of First Growths. We began with 1989 Haut Brion, which is the equivalent of Albert Pujols batting leadoff. I happened to have this wine last week as well (I love it when that happens), and both bottles were equally great. Great was actually an understatement. How’s this for a different statement ”“ when all is said and done, the 1989 Haut Brion could possibly be the greatest First Growth ever made, and how ironic would that be since Haut Brion tends to lag a little behind the other Firsts as far as overall perception. The 1989 was fabulous with aromas of peanut, olive and densely packed cassis fruit. It was chewy, nutty and long, tickling my tongue and warming my soul. Its balance and length defined ‘thoroughbred.’ The greatest thing about this wine is that it has never shut down; it has always been incredible (99).

The 1982 Haut Brion was outstanding but no match for the 1989. There was a bit more green in its nose, along with what I call ‘fireplace’ aromas. Cinnamon and crackling wood danced about. The palate was long with flavors of ceramic, spice and more cinnamon, along with ‘jasmine’ per The Poet. It was just a touch out of balance on its finish, although I think it was only made evident by the 1989’s near-perfection (95).

1982 Latour transitioned us to Pauillac, and also offered a 1982 comparison. Its deep, dark, brooding nose spoke seriously, and aromas of minerals and walnuts were like armed guards for this important wine. Its nose was like a black forest of fruit, and it was perfectly toasted. The palate was long, cedary and clearly special, with outstanding acidity. Its finish was thick and oh so long, still a bit closed but showing nothing but strength. Despite its strength, it was also superbly fine in its length. It was another world-class claret (98+).

The 1990 Latour was quite the contrast to the 1982. It has always been an open and flamboyant Latour, one that I have consistently loved. Its nose was seductive, full of olives and flesh. Its palate was a bit beany at first, not overly though. This bottle was a bit more tannic than I remember the last couple of occasions that I have had it. There were rich, olive flavors and kinky, wild fruit. While the 1982 was a textbook Latour fit for a University degree, the 1990 wanted to party all night long (96).

1990 Margaux was next, are you figuring out the path to the puzzle? This was a thrilling bottle of 1990, which has been inconsistent and sometimes disappointing. This bottle was open and singing. Vincent found it ‘very elegant and silky.’ It had a pinch of green bean in what can best be described as ‘green game.’ It was a good thing. The nose was so fine it would make any construction worker whistle. The palate was long and fine as well, but there was still meat on these bones, and its acidity was superb (96).

The 1996 Margaux that followed was so different in style. The ’96 jumped out of the glass with lots of powerful chocolate and caramel, followed by a hint of medicine, which became amplified with some time. However, the medicine came and thankfully went. There were loads of tannins and alcohol here. The 1996 was incredibly long, but a bit dormant at the moment (95+).

Enter 1996 Lafite Rothschild. If there is a vintage of Lafite that is undervalued, it is certainly the 1996. I have always loved this Lafite and found it to be amongst their finest vintages”¦ever. The nose was full of deep, dark cassisy fruit. The Poet marveled at its concentration, also finding its ‘tannins so fresh.’ This wine was red carpet fabulous. An exotic mix of deep bouillon, chalkboard and dank fruit made for a mouthwatering mix (98)

The 1986 Lafite Rothschild was much finer than the 1996. There was nice spice and lots of cedar in its nose. It was long, fine and with great acidity, but it seemed minor after the major 1996 (94).

The 1986 Mouton Rothschild brought it back up a level, or three. It was indeed great, very classic but also smoky. Its fruit was inky and frighteningly young, almost 1996 Lafite-ish. The palate was thick and tannic, also inky. This wine is a monster that will outlive everything else from the vintage, and many younger ones, too (97+).

1995 Mouton Rotschild snuck in our evening thanks to the 1995 Le Pin that followed. Let me know if you don’t understand why! It was clean and elegant, but a different tier than the rest of the wines on this starry night. I couldn’t spend too much time with it (93).

The 1995 Le Pin was kinky and open, full of coconut, plum and fig in its nose. It was exotic as usual, a bit smoky, like Kobe beef meets royal garden. It gave me a deep, wet kiss of chocolate, and the palate was equally as kinky. Vincent found it ‘similar to Screaming Eagle, I call it a steel magnolia, this beautiful, scented steel nose.’ I was still on my kinky kick, but that is nothing new (94).

We closed this magical evening with something with a little more bottle age, a 1970 Petrus. It had that same figgy, coconutty kink as the Le Pin, along with chocolate and rye bread aromas. The aromas then morphed into an incredible blue cheese quality that was confirmed by Sebastien, our token Frenchman. We could taste the blue cheese too! It was quite cheesy, but sooooo good. It was rich and delicious, ‘not a fair fight,’ due to the extra age. Someone noted ‘minty chocolate’ (95).

It was an incredible night from an incredible cellar. Tonight, we celebrate the West, stay tuned