I have been slow to stay current with the wealth of incredible wines that I have tasted during the first two months of 2008”¦my sincerest apologies. The notes are there, but time is not always my friend. Of all the great wines that I have tasted, and of all the great wine events that I have attended and conducted, there are very few that have equaled what I just experienced at La Paulee in San Francisco this past week. Over the course of four nights, I took notes for 138 wines, all incredibly rare vintage Burgundies (except for some Champagnes), and there were quite a few I missed since I seemed to turn into a pumpkin every night around 2AM. What’s a working guy to do?

This is the fourth consecutive year that I have attended and written up La Paulee, and for those of you that do not know what the event is, it is a celebration of Burgundy orchestrated by Burgundy lover extraordinaire Daniel Johnnes, who by day is the wine director for all of Daniel Boulud’s culinary empire, in addition to a quality importer of select wines.

La Paulee culminates every year with a BYO extravaganza where over 400 people come with their good stuff, and plenty of it. There is also always a VIP winemaker dinner Thursday night, this year’s featuring Eric Rousseau and Dominique Lafon, and also a Saturday walkabout afternoon tasting where some of Burgundy’s greatest producers pour some of their newest releases. This year’s vintage happened to be 2005”¦talk about a bonus! This year also saw an incredible Friday night BYO party hosted by Wilf and Eddie, but the week quietly kicked off Wednesday night with a small get-together at Michael Mina’s, my home away from home in San Francisco. Eric Rousseau was the guest of honor, and Wilf, Don and a close friend of mine were some of the guests, so I just had that feeling that there would be some serious ‘honoring’ done before the night was over.

We started with a mag of 1990 Dom Perignon Rose, a bubbly that has shown exquisitely but also perplexingly. This magnum was more on the perplexing side with its hay and barn aromas, still very fresh and sound, but slow to uncoil its rose and strawberry sides. It was definitively earthy and gamy, also big, long and tangy in the mouth with a dusty finish. In the end, it stayed on the horsy side of the fence, and I have had better magnums within the past couple months. Bottle variation rears its head (93+M).

Wilf uncorked a pair of 2002 whites, beginning with a 2002 Sauzet Montrachet. It has a gorgeous nose, although Daniel found it ‘a little oaky’ at first. There was a lot of tropical fruit and banana aromas, but still that nice white Burgundy cut of minerals, along with a pinch of signature Sauzet anise. At first, the wine was very shut down on the palate, but in time, it blossomed into a great wine. Sometimes these things need time! Traces of butter, citrus and minerality uncoiled into a graceful and elegant experience, full of ‘good acidity’ as Thierry observed. The ’02 kept getting better and better and better (95).

The 2002 Chateau de Puligny Montrachet Chevalier Montrachet rubbed Thierry the wrong way initially, as he found it ‘a little oaky and sweet.’ Wilf interjected that he ‘liked the style of the Sauzet, but there is more stuffing here,’ and there was. Wilf went on to say how Sauzet buys all his grapes from Baron Thenard, while Etienne de Montille controls the grapes for CPM, and how that can make a huge difference some years. There was more noticeable oak in the CPM, but I didn’t find it over the top, and there was still pinch and edge to its nose. Aromas of slate, game and exotic wood were all present. The wine was thick and big in the mouth, with more spice and pop to the finish, seemingly longer than the Sauzet at first, but not at last. Wilf found it ‘close to 5 stars,’ and Madame Rousseau preferred the nose of the Sauzet but the palate of the CPM. As the Sauzet started to unfold, Wilf made a point that ‘temperature has a huge impact on style’ (93+).

The 1999 Domaine Leflaive Batard Montrachet popped out of the glass with its super smoky and kernel-filled nose. ‘A touch reduced,’ Thierry observed, and it had noticeable sulfur in its nose, which was ‘a little stinky, but I still like it,’ Thierry reassured me. Corn, citrus, more kernel and lots of minerality kept coming out of the glass. The palate was big, rich and thick with excellent, brooding acidity but a touch brawny and square in its personality. The finish was toasty and minerally, and the acidity lingered beautifully. Thierry was loving the wine despite that touch of sulfur awkwardness, and I also found it excellent overall (94).

A 1997 Coche-Dury Meursault Perrieres had a sparkling nose with a sweet kink of white flowers, flowers just starting to wilt. Its floral components became more wild with time, and a hint of back alley crept in, but the wine was still very clean and had a waterfall-like freshness. The palate was clean, fresh and pure, just gorgeous and in a great spot, clearly the best drinking of any wine so far. The palate had nice spice and was clean, classic and minerally. It was another good show for a 1997 white Burgundy, a great vintage to be drinking now (93).

The 1992 Coche-Dury Meursault Perrieres Don served out of magnum, and Wilf dismissed it right away, calling out its ‘botrytis,’ and adding ‘not for me.’ Joe agreed, finding it ‘cracked.’ Its nose was funky and gamy, stinky and mature with pinches of white pepper and anise to go with its baked white bread aromas. Flavors of candy corn and butter flashed in the pan, and its finish was bitter, as if a shot of vodka was in there, another sign that the wine was starting to crack up and unintegrate (90M).
The 1985 Domaine Leflaive Chevalier Montrachet that I brought was served a little cold, and the nose was mild at first accordingly. There was no doubt about its purity, though, and complex aromas started to emerge. There was a touch of Ramonet-like mint, granulated sugar, white and yellow fruits, smoke and a hint of ceramic complexity eventually in its nose. The palate was rich and creamy with nice yeast and corn flavors and spectacular acidity. It felt like it had another twenty years left in it, and its acidity was clearly the best of the night so far. A hint of bitters on its finish didn’t hold it back, although a close friend of mine found the finish ‘a touch clumsy,’ but he doesn’t know white wines anyway lol (96).

Geez, more whites? It was ok, since it was Montrachet-time, and even better since it was Ramonet Montrachet-time! The 1983 Ramonet Montrachet had a coy nose, mild and clean with a hint of mint, granulated sugar, petrol and garden complexities aromatically. The palate was clean, fresh, long and stylish, stunning with its grace and beauty and in a perfect spot right now. Its sunset of acidity still lit up the sky, and there was great balance, purity and length to this masterful wine. Despite a touch of cat box, the wine was still clean and fresh, more ‘mint’ was observed, and Thierry and a close friend of mine were loving the wine so much that a make-out session practically ensued. We were in San Francisco, after all ha ha, but Kansas City was in the house thanks to this generous bottle brought by Mark (96).

The 1979 Ramonet Montrachet magnum, yes magnum, was a fitting end to the procession of wonderful whites on this evening, and we had Sandy and his incredible Ramonet collection to thank for this. Buttered bread and sweet buttered corn oozed out of its gamy nose. The nose morphed into caramel and shredded wheat morning cereal with sliced bananas. The palate was much yeastier than the ’83, possibly a touch advanced, a close friend of mine wondered. I still found it outstandingly good, rich, buttery and tasty, full of character and an open personality that said right here, right now (96M).

It was time for some red, and there was plenty of Rousseau going around, beginning with a 1982 Rousseau Gevrey Chambertin Clos St. Jacques, again courtesy of the humble Acker cellar. Actually, this bottle was already sold but grabbed by me before the out report oops. Sorry Roger J. Incredible aromas of big-time truffles leapt from its nose. Additional aromas of dried cherries, tobacco and oatmeal also joined the party in this approachable and delicious nose. The palate was round and rich with excellent dust and still sturdy acidity. Long, stylish and surprisingly good, this ’82 was a real eye-opener and a testament to the greatness of both Rousseau and Clos St. Jacques. I should note that the wine did start to fade after thirty minutes or so, but for that half-hour, it was definitely excellent stuff (93).

Next up was the 1983 Rousseau Chambertin, the last bottle on offer from the Acker cellar this evening, but not the last bottle on my bill as you will see. It had lots of spearmint in the nose and a touch of Nyquil, that noticeable rot that many ‘83s are prone to show. A bit of oak crept in, flirting with gingerbread. The oak stayed on the palate in a kiss kiss way, along with nice citricity and good thickness on the finish, and that hint of medicine carried over to the palate. I should note that we had a much better bottle of this the following night, although this bottle was still very good, just different. Remember, this is fine wine, and there will be variation. You can’t make it on an assembly line (91).

It started to get serious with a 1962 Rousseau Chambertin. The Doctor was in the house. Tobasco jumped out of its thick, rich and sweet nose. Sandy called it ‘youthful but old’ and was wondering about any chapitalization, as it did have a sweet, almost tropicalnature. Musky and gamy, Wilf called it ‘brilliant,’ and its palate was thick, rusty and spicy with long, excellent vigor. The wine was sturdy and got a little dirty in the glass, but it never lost the centerpoint and focus of ’62, and despite its hearty nature, the wine was still elegant, although I did wonder whether or not the bottle was a hair affected due to its wild, sweeter nature (95).

Unfortunately, the 1953 Rousseau Chambertin was affected and (DQ). Shit happens. No one cared, especially once the next two wines were on the table.

The 1945 Rousseau Chambertin was extraordinary, one of those special wines that you never forget, and a wine that made me forget anything and everything else around me. It had the superb t ‘n a of 1945, reminding me of Tony Atlas and Rocky Johnson in their prime for some strange reason. It was even more than that, ‘absolute Cloverfield insanity,’ I wrote. It was a powerful wine, is what I am trying to say! Aromas of brussel sprouts graced its stony, spiny and limy core, and a whiff of spectacular cedar/interior wood balanced out its intense nose. The palate was extremely focused, a whiplash of spicy and tangy flavors, clean and mean with a no prisoners attitude yet still with the ability to kiss the palate with tobasco. ‘Finally a 6 star wine,’ a close friend of mine exhaled. ‘Its sweetness and density are insane’ (98).

The 1952 Rousseau Chambertin was no slouch either, revealing a long and deep nose and a rusty intensity a la the ’45. There was super spine and spice here, a brick city of a nose with faint, sweet red fruits and roses and a galaxy of green lime. Thierry and a close friend of mine were at it again, cooing over the ’52 like the two schoolgirls that they are J. Dusty, rusty and spiny, this was another magnificent Chambertin from Rousseau, and another killer ’52 Burg. Much thanks to the Doctor for an opportunity to taste these four legends together, andone could see Rousseau overwhelmed with joy and emotion (96).

Well, Don had something to say, and he said it with a 1934 Rousseau Chambertin Cuvee A, courtesy of the Doris Duke cellar. Rousseau joked that Cuvee A was the best, so I said, ‘no Cuvee F?’ The nose gave a great first impression with its sensual rose, earth and limestone. ‘Tres serieux,’ I smiled at Rousseau. He did not disagree! The ’34 had an incredible centerpoint and an intense, rusty, lemony personality with a touch of confectioners’ sweetness. Rich and long, it gained that tobasco craziness both in the nose and in the mouth that the other Chambertins displayed as well (97).

We were out of wines, so a close friend of mine and I attacked the list. a close friend of mine popped open a rare 1962 Roumier Chambolle Musigny, which had a decadent nose of dirty earth, dark chocolate and sweet rose oil syrup. Rich and still hearty, and despite its two-dimensional nature relative to the great Chambertins we just had, it was still excellent stuff and a revelation for a village wine. The hallmark Roumier acidity still shone brightly (93).

I needed some Champagne to revive, so I ordered a 1961 Krug magnum. The nose had that perfect vanilla cream sex appeal of great, old Krug. Thierry noted, ‘apple cider.’ The palate was creamy, rich and spicy with a vin de paille edge, still sturdy and full of character. Gingerbread emerged in this long and ample bubbly, which had a great center of attention and even commanded Joe to give a standing ‘O’ (96M).

a close friend of mine countered with a 1952 Veuve Clicquot magnum, which showed spectacularly as well. It was even fresher, bigger and bolder than the Krug, similar in style and seemingly younger even though it was older! It was lip-smackingly good and intense with more of a rusty personality, and about as perfect a 56 year-old bubbly could be (97M).

Check please”¦after all, La Paulee was about to start tomorrow. Damn, that Krug set me back, but it was fairly priced, and kudos to the great Raj Parr and the incredible wine list at Michael Mina for having Champagne like that available for our drinking pleasure.

A majority of the wines tasted during my December trip in Bordeaux were wines from the 2006 vintage, a vintage that the Bordelais have gone out of their way to defend and promote, and also out of their way to price. 2006 is a bit of a watershed vintage as far as the economics of wine go, as unlike 2005, 2006 is not the ‘vintage of the century’ that seems to come along every five to ten years, but merely an average-to-good vintage which has a few wines that exceed those boundaries. Prices, however, are not that far behind 2005 despite the fact that 2006 has been lukewarmly received by the media and collectors alike, and for this reason, a new line has been drawn in the sand for those that want to drink Bordeaux. If you want to cross that line, all it takes is money.

Fortunately, we did not have to pay to visit some of the Right Bank’s most esteemed properties and taste their newest releases. Although my trip did not begin in the Right Bank, I have decided to continue my chronologically-deficient story of said trip with all my notes from the Right Bank. There is something thrilling and exciting about tasting Right Bank wines, a function of both scarcity and style, and none more thrilling than the wines of Christian Moueix. If there is any consensus about 2006, it is the fact that Mother Nature smiled more on the Right Bank.

Christian and his family are much more than Chateau Petrus, although that is the only wine for which he seems to get credit. His newest acquisition, Chateau Belair in St. Emilion, has him very excited. He pointed out to us that Belair was the first St. Emilion to chateau-bottle back in 1802, and that in the 19th century, it was actually at the top of the St. Emilion hierarchy. Keep an eye on this estate over the next decade.

There were eleven 2006 wines to taste through from the Moueix portfolio; see, I do taste young wines on occasion! We got right to work, beginning with the 2006 Les Songes de Madelaine, which had a lovely nose of cherry fruit and oil, great freshness (of course), and a cut grass impression. The palate was simple but nice (87).

Seeing a rating like 87 points is probably a kiss of death to most collectors, but I would not have a problem drinking this bottle of wine over the course of a nice evening. That is the one disadvantage of the numbers game; sometimes it doesn’t capture the intrinsic, simple pleasure of enjoyment despite the quantifiable, relative difference to the greatest of the great.

Next up was the actual 2006 Magdelaine, a wine that has continued to impress me each of the last three years that I have been tasting in Bordeaux. There was more plum and black fruits to go with that same cherry oil. Its nose was deeper, nuttier and dustier, and its palate had a chalky, spicy finish that somehow wasn’t hot at the same time despite its youth. Very good, indeed (90).

Last of our three St. Emilions was the 2006 Belair, which had a fatter nose and more vanilla to go with cassis and musk. Also fresh (also of course), its palate had a touch missing in the middle, though nice red flavors and a dry finish (89).

The first Pomerol on our agenda was the 2006 La Grave, which had a plummy and aromatic nose, also nutty with a nice, lingering, subtle spice. There were round, rich, plum flavors; also chocolate ones with nice, light grit on its finish (90).

The 2006 Chateau Latour a Pomerol had a more classic nose with great earth and chocolate aromas to go with its core of plum. Its palate was slaty and spiny, a noticeable step up in structure from every previous wine. The palate also had nice fruit to go with its long finish. This had to be the best Latour a Pomerol in years (92).

The 2006 Chateau Certan Marzelle had a figgy, gamy nose with plum behind those qualities. The palate was also gamy, solid with a chalky, dry finish (90).

The first thing I wrote about the 2006 Chateau La Fleur Petrus was ‘breed here.’ Its tannins and alcohol were most noticeable, along with aromas of fireplace, brick and a touch of almost St. Emilion-ish red fruits. Its flavors of mocha were dry and spicy, very long with nice earth, garden and plum flavors (93).

The 2006 Chateau Providence had a more open and gamy nose like the Marzelle, figgy to go with the usual plummy. However, it lacked fruit and mid-palate in the mouth (88).

The 2006 Hosanna had a soft and silky nose, both warm and inviting yet reserved with nice blackcurrant aromas. The palate was solid and taut, and the wine left an overall nice impression (91).

There were two wines left, the two crown jewels in the Moueix portfolio. First was the 2006 Trotanoy. I don’t understand why this wine has fallen out of favor with some major critics; each of the last three years I have been to Bordeaux, it has been a real standout of the trip for me for 2004, 2005 and 2006. Maybe it is just the Moueixes’ and my secret! The Trotanoy had a great nose with deep, thick fruit, chunky in its black and purple way. There was nice sweetness, some fresh grass, beautiful earth and a touch of thoroughbred saddle sweat. The palate was also impressive and actually made me think 2006 is more impressive than it really is. Like I said, there were a few exceptional wines made in this vintage. There was chewy and fleshy fruit, excellent sweetness, great Pomerol flavors and a very long and very dry finish that lingered a long, long, long time (94).

Last and most was the 2006 Petrus. I don’t get into the hows and whys of wine but rather try to enjoy the heres and nows of it, and when it comes to Petrus, I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but it always just is one of the best wines made year in and year out, and 2006 was no exception. ‘Yum yum’ were the first words that came to mind. Its style and breed stood out like Yao Ming. Its red, black and purple fruits were symphonic in style yet also hummed along in a quiet and unassuming matter. Its nose was very complex with light traces of forest, slate, chocolate, and more plum emerged with time. In the mouth, it was rich, round, spicy, long and hot without crossing the line of decency. Flavors of garden, mocha, slate and cinnamon spice and stick graced this stallion of a wine. Brian remarked that there was ‘enough fruit to fight off the tannins,’ and that was a point that had a double entendre, as the tannins were continually out-muscling the fruit all week in most of the 2006s. Here was one wine that stood above the pack and was clearly wine of the vintage for me (95+).

Christian shared many nuggets of wisdom with us as we discussed the vintage and state of Bordeaux. He dislikes the notion of an ‘old’ style in the context of Old World versus New World in today’s market. ‘It’s not old; it’s traditional,’ he reasoned. ‘It’s all about the quality of fruit. For thirty-seven vintages, I have eaten 1000 berries (grapes) a day for three weeks (to decide when to harvest and what grapes to pick). When we think it is ripe, we pick block by block. We can’t correct nature. People get upset at the winemaker now, but we didn’t need scientists in the old days. The ’61 was made by the gardener!’ He continued about 2006. ‘2006 was better than we thought,’ and he left us with a word about 2007: ‘more pleasant than we expected”¦should be a useful vintage.’ It is always an honor to talk wine with Christian.

Another exciting stop on our trip was Chateau Lafleur. Nestled away in an unassuming ‘chateau’ (if you could even call it that) in the heart of Pomerol, Lafleur is a true ‘garage’ operation without all of the negative connotations the word has come to mean. Lafleur is also a family operation, something after my own heart. Here we got to taste not only the 2006s, but also the 2005s. Schwing.

Nice minerality jumped out of the 2006 Pensees de Lafleur as well as a plum and cherry mélange. There was that sexy raspberry core that Lafleurs often have as well as a touch of chocolate and good minerals. The blend is 59% Merlot and 41% Cabernet Franc and production a mere 500 cases. The palate was nice and round, dry but pleasantly so, and had a nice slaty minerality. Tender, round and with purple fruit flavors, the Pensees really shouldn’t be called a ‘second’ wine (91).

The 2006 Lafleur had a deep, brooding nose with lots of t ‘n a, classic and a bit ’89-ish in its personality. Bipin found it ‘spicy.’ It gave me an ‘iron man’ impression in the nose, which were healthily complemented by purple and black fruits, and someone admired its ‘black pepper.’ The palate was also big and brooding with deep, dark chocolate flavors. There was also a touch of blueberry and a minerally finish. This was serious stuff, but it still had that small hole in the middle, one that marks the entire vintage, less so in the Lafleur but still there. Perhaps it will disappear over time, but that hole is what keeps most 2006s from real greatness, no matter how solid many may still be (94).

Ripeness jumped out of the 2005 Pensees de Lafleur; one could smell the oil and concentration of the 2005 vintage right away. The entire fruit rainbow was there ”“ the blueberry, blackberry, cassis and raspberry. There was great game here, and the palate was rich and round, chocolaty with a touch of beef, excellent balance and an excellent, dry finish. The wine was bordering on excellence (92+).

The 2005 Lafleur had a bright, regal nose, its red fruits jumping out at first, supported by cloves, cedar, hay and straw nuances. Cassis and purple fruitsquickly joined the party. Cinnamon and cedar did as well, and that raspberry essence slowly emerged in its long, scintillating nose, and its t ‘n a came out from underneath the fruit to remind one that this was serious stuff. Hints of garden also crept in. Its palate was pure, clean and stylish, surprisingly elegant and polished on its long finish. While a touch shut down (we were told it was bottled only six months ago), the ’05 was still serious like a queen (96+).

The most enlightening part about the visit was what the Guinaudeaus showed us they were doing to help fight any future counterfeiting of their wine. Beginning with the 2005, there will be a Braille-coded, hologram-ish neck tag that goes over the top of the capsule, extending down to the neck of the glass. Each ‘proof tag’ has its own serial number, or rather three sets of biometric codes, so each bottle has its own unique code. The tag opens and peels in the middle and is made with a very strong adhesive, and it is by far and away the best anti-counterfeiting measure that I have ever seen. Basically, you cannot open the bottle without breaking the seal, and these seals are unique and impossible to replicate, as all you have to do is go online to verify that the tag’s serial number and pattern of the braille match up ”“ www.prooftag.com I highly recommend that every producer of fine and rare wine adopt this methodology immediately, as it would bring uniformity and make future counterfeiting extremely difficult. A standing ovation must be given to the Guinaudeau family and Chateau Lafleur for addressing this issue and trying to prevent future fraud.

A quick stop at Cheval Blanc had us tasting with another second-generation winemaker, Oliver Berruet, whose father Jean-Claude Berruet used to make the wine at Petrus. The 2006 Petit Cheval was very fresh with nice red cherry fruit and a touch of wintergreen. Tasty and pretty, there were pretty red fruit flavors and good sweetness, nice dryness, and a pleasant, round, lush and chalky finish. This is a great ‘quaffer’ for the next decade or so (91).

The 2006 Cheval Blanc was reserved and subdued by comparison, hinting at many things. Faint traces of blackberry, cola, winter, mint, chocolate, caramel, earth, beef and hoisin were all present, but all just hints. Someone remarked, ‘if I was tasting blind, I would guess Pomerol.’ Plummy and chocolaty on the palate, its dry, slaty finish was elegant yet sturdy, not hot at all for such a young wine (92+).

We were also able to stop at Chateau L’Angelus, James Bond’s newest favorite wine, where we met with the lovely Coralie de Bouard, who is helping carry on her family’s tradition at L’Angelus. The 2006 L’Angelus had that rich and beefy Angelus style in the nose wit hits big, heady black fruits, vanilla and cedar, but its fruit was first and foremost. The palate was thick and dry, meaty and rich with long, beefy flavors and plenty of black fruits. The 2006 was toeing the line of modernity, as Angelus is prone to do. Cola flavors persisted on its finish that was a shred overly dry (92).

The 2004 L’Angelus had more black olives in its nose, showing a black fruit and nutty side as well. Compared to the ’06, the nose was cleaner and showed more signs of structure, and the palate was also a touch hot, possessing fine tannins and good acidity. The mid-palate was less continuous than the ’06, however, and earthy, wheat flavors were present (91).

The 2005 L’Angelus delivered a nice knockout punch. Just bottled, it was incredibly shut down in its nose, almost odorless! There was faint peanut and faint fruit there. The palate was far from shut down, though, providing a thick, mouthful of tannins that woke me up immediately. It also had flavors of black fruits, beef, vanilla, cedar, minerals and ceramics. Coralie said that her grandfather told her that 2005 is ‘a vintage I have never seen,’ while her father Hubert told her that 2005 ‘saw everything come together at once. Everything was there like a dream’ (95).

Our last stop in the Right Bank was with Alexander Thienpont, the man behind Vieux Chateau Certan and Le Pin. We lunched at The Right Bank’s finest restaurant, Plaisance, which was one of the best meals that I had in 2007. Alexander brought the 2004 and 2005 VCCs and Le Pins, but we started with a 2001 Trimbach Riesling Clos Ste. Hune, as it is always fun to experience other wines with the Bordelais, especially someone as into wine as Alexander. While mild-mannered and soft-spoken, there was a quiet intensity about Alexander, and I could truly feel his passion and knowledge. The Clos Ste. Hune jumped out of the glass with great peach and petrol aromatics, along with citrus and a kiss of wood. It was very fresh, and the palate had good body and balance, round with nice mineral and citrus flavors. Smooth and satiny, there were also kisses of petrol on its finish (93).

The 2004 Vieux Chateau Certan was a bit of a revelation. Its nose was pure bred with gorgeous fruit and spice, along with cinnamon, cedar, great red fruits along with purple and black and a touch of vanilla and oak. It was very dense for 2004. The palate was round and rich, and as Alexander saw my pleasure unfold, he cooed how he was very proud of his 2004 after being ‘ashamed’ by his 2003, a vintage where he spent the whole year in the vineyard yet could still not overcome the intense heat. The 2004 had nice grit to its finish, which was polished, soft, tender and stylish with medium length. Alexander called 2004 ‘the academic year,’ after the 2003 which had ‘too much hydric stress.’ He went on about 2005 that it was ‘slightly too dry a vintage,’ and he was the only one I have ever heard admit that there might be a flaw in 2005, and that is the typeof person he is: honest, forthright and candid. The 2004 was excellent stuff, and it continued to put on weight and add concentration along with more cedar, leather and brick aromas (94).

I didn’t find any flaws in the 2005 Vieux Chateau Certan, I must confess. It was perfumed, subtle and shy at first, with light purple fruit, nut and earth aromas. Bottled in May of 2007 and about two-thirds Merlot, the ’05 was rich and concentrated, but Alexander found the ’04 ‘thicker and more complex,’ and I saw that in the nose of the 2004 over time, but not the palate. The ’05 was chewy and fleshy, and its dryness did, indeed, stand out, per Alexander’s previous comment. I liked its grip, however, and its acidity really stood out, along with its delicious ceramic and mineral flavors (95+).

Next up was the 2004 Le Pin, ‘a glass of passion fruit,’ as Alexander called it. It definitely had that exotic edge, possessing lots of fruit, almost kaleidoscopic but heavily on the purple side. There were lots of t ‘n a and minerals in the nose, but the palate was soft, smooth and shut down. It got more aromatic as aromas of vitamins, game and cinnamon developed, and someone called this 100% Merlot cuvee ‘Burgundian’ (92).

The 2005 Le Pin had a deep, deep rabbit hole of a nose full of black, purple, vanilla and earth aromas. It was a touch dirty with a baked pie and confectioners edge. Salt water, gingerbread and deep cassis flavors marked its palate. It was extremely lush but lacking definition and a bit softer and more tender than I’d expected. I must confess that I finished both glasses of VCC before my Le Pin, for what it’s worth. Even Alexander confessed that the art of blending gave the VCC more complexity and made it more interesting to him as well. Approximately 450 cases are made each year of Le Pin (93).

Alexander shared many comments at the end of the meal,including ‘2006 is not so far from 2000.’ When asked if 2005 was the best vintage ever, he said, ‘I am a winemaker not a wine merchant,’ but went on to say that it might be for the Left Bank, but not for the Right, and that he prefers 1998. Margaux is his favorite 2005 Left Bank wine. ‘2007 is better than 2002 and close to 1999,’ he continued about Bordeaux’s newest vintage. When asked what he does at VCC and Le Pin, he playfully remarked, ‘nothing,’ alluding to his non-interventionist approach. ‘The better wines are less interfered with. The pendulum has swung a litte bit too far to the technical side. We must come back to the vineyard.’ Speaking of the vineyard and VCC, he noted how ‘in 1956, two-thirds of the vineyard was destroyed by frost,’ and that it took ‘twenty-five years to get back.’ From 1995 on, he is very pleased with the quality of VCC. It looks to be the best value in Pomerol today accordingly. It was an honor and pleasure to dine with such an inspirational and forthright man.

So those were my notes from the Right Bank this past December. Who says I only taste old wines?

One of the other highlights of my week in Bordeaux and Paris with Bipin this past December was a glorious celebration of Chateau Figeac’s Thierry Manoncourt’s 90th birthday. Thierry is one of the most inspirational people that I have ever met in this crazy world of wine, still quick as a whip and very much in charge over at Chateau Figeac. He exudes grace, class and charm and is one of the people that has made Bordeaux great. It is outrageous to me that Figeac has never achieved ‘official’ Premier Grand Cru Classe status in St. Emilion, and while I will not get into the particulars of those politics, I will say that there is no doubt that Chateau Figeac is not only one of Bordeaux’s elite wines, but also the world’s, and this tasting surely proved that fact.

The lunch was held in Paris at Taillevent, and every wine was served out of magnums that came directly from Figeac’s personal cellars, except the final flight of younger wines was served out of bottles, which still came from Thierry’s sizeable stash, of course. None of the magnums had been reconditioned at any point in time, always music to my ears.

The guest list was a who’s who of wine critics, including (in alphabetical order) Michel Bettane, Michael Broadbent, Clive Coates, Neal Martin, David Peppercorn, Jancis Robinson, Steven Spurrier, James Suckling and Serena Sutcliffe, amongst others.

We started with a flight of four, beginning with the 1983 Figeac. Green olives jumped out of the glass immediately in a waify yet aromatic style. There were lots of wintergreen aromas along with meaty, olivy fruit. A touch of vegetable bouillon added complexity to its creamy, forward nose, which also had this ‘wet street’ element to it. The palate had red fruit, citrus and additional olive flavors, possessing nice grit on its round, earthy finish. That wet street I was picking up on in the nose others felt might have been a touch of mustiness, or cork. Wolfgang was not a big fan of the 1983. Soft, tender and pretty, I was happy to drink it (91M).

The 1982 was a bit controversial, and ultimately decided to be an affected bottle. It had a much nuttier, beefier style, with more whiffs of caramel and pine to go with its dark core of sweet, black fruits. It had a rich, heady style, black in its personality. James Suckling observed, ‘decadent sous bois and mushroom.’ The palate was rich and beefy with great balance and an excellent minerality. Its acidity lingered, but it became a bit pruny in time, a touch stewed. It was quite interesting to me that a bottle that had perfect provenance, never leaving the cellars until now, could have a stewed impression, which means that heat or poor storage isn’t always the source of that deficiency (94M-A).

The 1975 was ‘very balsamic, almost Nebbiolo-like,’ per James. I must say it was a pleasure to sit next to James and hear firsthand many of his astute comments. Most importantly, we were having fun and really enjoying the event. I like my wines dry, but not those I have to taste with! The 1975 had purple fruits and seemed open for a 1975 by its usual standards. It had this sweet perfume about it, a confectioner’s edge, and kisses of signature olive. It was sexy sweet in the nose. I was also impressed by its sweetness in the mouth and its mélange of red, purple and black fruit flavors. Tender and balanced, there was also a foresty complexity here. This was very pure, getting more complex in the nose, and I admired its roundness both in the nose and in the mouth. Soft yet rusty, it had less tannins than I expected but still nice vim (92M).

The 1971 stole the show in this flight, which was nice to see since that is my year! There were fabulous aromatics of olive, dust, chocolate, minerals and red and purple mature fruits. The nose was like a majestic, dancing Cobra, ever changing and never static. The palate was round, lush and tender, possessing dusty and citrusy flavors on its finish. Sweet strawberry flavors dominated along with Spanish green olives from the best possible vineyard, olives soaked in olive oil (95M).

Neal Martin, of eRobertparker fame, was asked to speak about this first flight and shared the following comments. ‘Figeac was the first chateau I ever wrote about. The ’83 was pleasant but did not have the depth of others. (Usually), the 1982 is one of the greatest ‘82s in Bordeaux and better than Cheval this past October (when he had both head-to-head). The ’75 had a conservative nose yet a traditional palate (and notes of) wild mint and fennel. The ’71, I loved it, its controlled opulence, mushrooms, cooked meats”¦fleshy, absolutely fantastic.’

The next flight began with the 1970, which James found both ‘Burgundy and Rhonish,’ and it was totally a blend of the two! It was very aromatic with lots of sweet cherry, that signature olive, a touch of candle wax, a splash of cassis, a drop of rainwater and a kiss of mahogany. Age 38 years, shake, stir and serve lol. The ’70 was softer on the palate than I had hoped, showing more citrus and cedar personalities. There was still nice grit here and a touch of tobacco. James found it ‘a touch volatile’ (92M).

Steven Spurrier was immediately in love with the 1964. Like the 1982, it had a nuttier, beefier style, but also this exotic szechuan peanut sweetness to go with its ocean of sweet, plummy fruit. The palate had a cleaner, fresher and zippier personality than the nose, possessing great citrus, slate, cherry and old book flavors; in fact, I wrote ‘great’ before each of those characteristics in my original notes! There were also nice stem and stalk flavors, and even a kiss of green bean. The acidity was superb, and the wine kept gaining in the glass. Its finish was so clean and fresh, concurred with by James who added ‘so pure’ (96M).

The 1961 had an oily, sexy nose, deep purple in its fruit, bordered by black. Nuts and vitamins were dancing all over, and there was also a touch of fig, in the best way (as opposed to a sign of maderization). The ’61 was much more purple in its personality than any other wine so far. The palate had nice cedar and minerality, resulting in a long, stylish, gritty yet elegant wine. It continued to get figgier and plummier in the glass (93M).

The 1959 was the last wine in this lumber flight, and Wolfgang observed how it had ‘some of the qualities of 1971.’ Steven found the ’59 to be ‘beautiful wine, almost Burgundian, but doesn’t have the reserve, acidity and tannins of ’64.’ The ’59 was very aromatic, Asian in style with its jasmine qualities, with a pinch of black pepper and almost a kiss of madarin orange, a quality that James found to be ‘sultana raisin.’ The palate was round and long with excellent acidity and a flash of heat. Its flavors were grapier, almost port-like and ‘chewy,’ per James. There was also nice grit to this outstanding 1959 (95M).

James spoke about this flight, praising ‘the unique character of Figeac, hand-made like Burgundy, and it is exciting to find wine like that in Bordeaux amidst the big companies and modern winemakers. Comparing the ’64, ’61 and ’59 is like asking if you like blondes, brunettes or redheads. The ’61 is almost a combination of the two with tannins less large.’

It was then shared with us how Thierry has degrees in agriculture and engineering, and back in the ‘50s and ‘60s, there was little universal knowledge in those regards (ie, a lot of winging it), and that some winemakers didn’t even know the difference between yeast and bacteria!

The third flight on this afternoon was led off by the 1955, which had a nutty, chocolaty nose full of dates, sous bois, earth and tobacco. It gave a meaty, thick impression, as did its palate with more chocolate flavors and lots of minerals to go with its long finish and very vibrant acidity. David Peppercorn called 1955 ‘the forgotten year,’ in general (95M).

The 1953 had more animal and hay in its nose to go with the nutty style that this decade seemed to share for Figeac. There was definite beef to the nose, glazed with some sweet and sweaty marinade. The alcohol and acidity slowly penetrated my nasal cavities, and a hint of olive re-ermerged. The palate was tender yet solid, with purple and black hues and flavors of old book, citrus, animal and a touch of yeast on the finish of this charming Figeac (93M).

The 1950, a wine that I have had the pleasure of having out of Thierry’s cellar before, was spectacular again. Its nose had a bit of everything, and its youthful expression impressed James. The nose was deep and nutty, full of campfire aromas along with the most distinctive chocolate-filled-with-a-raspberry-squirt-surprise that I have ever encountered, and James seconded my motion! The nose carried over to the palate with its chocolate-covered raspberry. Its tannins and acidity were mind-boggling. Thick, long and possessing great definition, the 1950 was something extra special, so sweet, so sexy and so gritty, holding so well and providing ample earth and minerals on its endless finish. It was about as close as I have seen Wolfgang and Bipin simultaneously go crazy over a wine, and Wolf called the flight ‘a real stunner’ (97+M).

The 1947 had a weird nose at first with a touch of metal that I couldn’t get past, perhaps related to the glass. The palate was excellent, however, possessing cherry dust and citrus flavors. I liked its texture, balance and length, along with its earthy finish and thick tannins. Citrus (very limy), wild herb, old book and wood flavors graced this elegant and lighter-styled Figeac. I must confess that the ’47 gave me a reconditioned impression (94M).

The last, old wine for the afternoon was actually Thierry’s first vintage, 1943. This was actually served out of bottle, as no magnums remain at the chateau. The nose was a bit funky, mushroomy and possessing this mothball quality. Behind that, it was bready with a touch of dark chocolate and an earthwormy appeal. The ’43 had nice texture and flavors of old book, citrus, candle wax and crushed ice. It wasn’t the greatest Figeac of the day, but it was still excellent in its unique way (93).

Wolfgang joked to Thierry, ‘a flight like this is how you must stay so young.’ When asked to speak, an anonymous Frenchman joked, ‘there are two languages for wine ”“ English if you are very good and French if you are average.’ I also spoke up about the flight, adding that ‘more winemakers in St. Emilion need to go to the school of Manoncourt.’

It was time for the final flight of young bucks, appropriately accompanied by a dish of ‘chevreuil,’ aka reindeer. Being it December, I found it a bit amusing that we would be served reindeer during Christmas season, so I leaned over to James and asked him, ‘did you get Dancer or Vixen?’ I thought I heard him mumble something about a dancer named Vixen, but that might have been me lol.

The 2005 was a bit of a shock to the system after so many great old wines. It was so sweet, so oily, like a chocolate sundae with the whipped cream, vanilla and caramel to match. There were lots of caramel and vanilla cream flavors to this rich, young, lush and decadent Figeac. One could see the concentration of the 2005 vintage immediately (94).

The 2000 had a much different personality, showing much more dill, crème fraiche and red pepper, so much so that James and I planned a party around it since it could serve as the crudite. The palate was soft and tender, with lots of cherry and red fruits, green bean and tobacco. Bipin found it ‘ethereal. I have never seen such balance in a vintage’ (92).

The 1990 was a bit green in the nose but in that wintergreen and menthol direction, not an underripe one. Sinus-clearing t ‘n a was present, along with touches of nut, gingerbread, and purple leotard. The wine was a clean, green, fighting machine with its great green pepper and mint flavors and nice, lingering acidity. A touch of dill rounded out the party (94).

The 1986 had a baked cherry pie of a nose, along with a side of vanilla ice cream. Tasty and round with a hint of lemon sorbet, there were nice minerals in this delicious Figeac that showed a hint of that beefy side as well (93).

I think the last flight was a bit anti-climactic and perhaps rated a touch lower than they would have been if served first. There were numerous comments at the end of this glorious afternoon, and I tried to catch as many as I could. Michael Broadbent called Bipin, ‘a man of great imagination and courage’ for hosting such an event, and singled out the ’59 as his personal favorite. He continued that he does ‘tastings of people I admire, and I get a great thrill out of introducing them to the world whether fashionable or not.’ Clive Coates noted how ‘you see the family making the wine and their style. This expression of personality into wine is getting rarer and rarer.’ Steven added, ‘Figeac explains the vintage every year in its Figeac way,’ but it was Thierry with the last word. Visibly moved by this event and all those who came to share it with him, he commented how ‘there is something about those who have the patience to wait and appreciate the wine for what it is supposed to be. Those are the people that love wine with their heart.’

There is no doubt that the wines of Chateau Figeac are built for the long haul, meant to age in the cellar and blossom over time, and that Thierry is a classicist amongst all the wannabe rock stars in St. Emilion today. Perhaps that is why so many do not understand the wine and its greatness as many associate quality with volume nowadays, and those that appreciate, or get to appreciate, very old wines are a small minority of wine drinkers.

As it so happens, earlier in the week in Bordeaux I happened to be at Chateau Figeac itself for dinner. We sampled seven other vintages, the ones that didn’t make the varsity cut, I suppose, but vintages that still were ‘players,’ nonetheless. It was a wonderful evening at this magical property, one of Bordeaux’s oldest.

We started with a nice, easy, round and yeasty 1990 Laurent Perrier Grand Siecle (92).

The 2006 Figeac had a pretty nose and soft, red fruits, light green olive, a pinch of mint, nut, candle wax, and some purple fruits emerged as well. In the mouth, the wine was tender, rich, round and balanced with nice flesh and excellent acidity. Long, pretty and stylish, this was not a powerhouse but still had great style and character. This was true Bordeaux; I could see others rating this wine less because it doesn’t have the oak or concentration that many seek. Bipin likened the ’06 Figeac to a caress compared to the punch of the Mouton, one of the standout ‘06s earlier on this trip. ‘Which do you prefer?’ I asked. ‘I much prefer getting caressed than punched,’ Bipin wisely answered with a smile (93).

The 2001 was similar yet darker, nuttier and toastier than the ’06. There were more green olive flavors, great flesh and plummy flavors to this charming ’01. Round, soft, and lush, it was another winning Right Bank ’01. Thierry cooed, ‘un vin pour maintenant. J’aime dans le commencement.’ Translation: A wine for now. I love it at thebeginning (of a meal). The only bad thing I could say about this wine is that it was almost too ready, but perhaps this will be a vintage like 1953 that was always and still is ready (93).

The 1998 had a nutty and chocolaty nose, toasty and with a kiss of caramel. The palate was round, smooth and tasty, similar to the 2001 in its tender softness, but possessing more green earth flavors. Dusty, ceramic and olive twists were on its finish. Ninety-three seemed to be the magic number so far on this evening (93).

1995 was Thierry’s 50th anniversary bottling at Figeac, and even though his first vintage was 1943, there were a couple of years not made; hence, 1995 was his 50th. The 1995 was the mildest of the bunch but still had a classy, pretty nose. Round, smooth and soft, there were nice, nutty flavors and black olive ones as well (91).

The 1989 had that same pungent earth, green olive and green pepper that marks the ’89 Cheval as well, but there was great intensity in the mouth, and remarkable acidity and spine with a leathery spank to it. Gritty, wintry and earthy, this could be a sleeper of a Figeac that will blossom even more down the road (93+).

Last and certainly not least was the 1966, whose nose was deep, chocolaty, earthy and soupy with its bouillon-like intensity. Mushroom and forest floor were present, even pheromones in this complex wine. Round, smooth, polished and beautiful, Mrs. Manoncourt observed ‘un peu de fume’ (smokiness), and I a touch of rust (93).

We finished with a 1988 Yquem, whose apricots, honey, crème brulee, nutty and waxy qualities were all as they should be, as always (96).

It was a memorable evening, and the Figeac wines selected were all siblings and similar in style, well chosen by a man who, even at the age of 90, still knows his wines very, very well. Long live Thierry Manoncourt!

Every December, Bipin makes an annual pilgrimage to Bordeaux to taste its newest vintage, see some old friends, and taste some older wines, too, of course. One cannot live off of new releases alone. Bipin likes to avoid the crush of April when most people rush to Bordeaux to taste the newest vintage and also prefers to taste the wines after they have settled in the bottle a bit. During our week in Bordeaux (which actually included three nights in Paris), I was able to taste 133 wines, and I will try to share all these notes with you over the course of the next few weeks. Maybe I can actually finish telling the tale of a complete journey for once!

I have gone with Bipin each of the past three years, and every year Bipin holds a dinner at Chateau Lafite Rothschild called ‘Bipin’s Thanksgiving.’ Basically, Lafite opens up the Chateau for Bipin and his guests; there are not too many people in this world who can say that! Bipin’s entourage always includes his best friend Wolfgang, a couple of US friends (myself included), a who’s who of Bordeaux winemakers, owners and property managers, as well as a significant wine personality from a region outside of Bordeaux. Last year, it was Egon Muller, and this year it was Pablo Alvarez from Vega Sicilia. Bipin likes to ‘educate’ some of his Bordelais friends that there are, indeed, wines from other parts of the world, although it is not easy to convince the Bordelais that!

Besides Pablo, the guest list included Anthony Barton (of Leoville Barton), Herve Berland (of Mouton), Jean-Michel Cazes (of Lynch Bages), Charles Chevalier (of Lafite), Alexandre de Lur Saluces (formerly of d’Yquem), Jean-Bernard Delmas (of Montrose but formerly of Haut Brion for decades), Thierry Manoncourt (of Figeac), Jean-Francois Moueix (of the Moueix family), Paul Pontallier (of Margaux), Jean-Guillaume Prats (of Cos d’Estournel) and Christophe Salin (also of Lafite). As you can see, it was an A-list crowd, and the red carpet of Lafite had been rolled out in grand fashion for Bipin once again.

This was actually my third night of the trip, but I have chosen to start the week’s story here. While we tasted many 2006s throughout the week, this evening was more par for my course and one of the more dramatic, vintage wine affairs of the week.

After a cocktail reception of addictive cheese puffs and remarkably delicious NV Pol Roger Brut, we sat down to a first course, which was accompanied by a flight of 1967 Sauternes. I am not a big sweet wine drinker (I find the sugar too much for my body), but Bipin insisted on the foie gras/Sauternes combination for the first flight, and I was reminded how good a culinary combination that can be. By the way, I put on about ten pounds this trip; six hours of eating and drinking each day is not easy!

The first Sauternes was a 1967 Chateau Gillete Crème de Tete. Bipin shared how the Gillete was actually ‘aged in cement, and Prats remarked how it ‘smells of a dirty, old cellar.’ Aromas of honey, honeycomb, candle wax, dates and waxy, dried peach and apricot fruit graced its complex nose. There was medium body and sweetness here, along with more candle wax flavors. It had a smooth, nutty finish and seemed mature. There were touches of secondary underarm aromas, and the wine was a bit minerally and ceramic on its finish. Delmas found that it did not have ‘the usual aromas of Sauternes.’ Barton called it ‘against the rules,’ and Chevalier commented that Gilette just bottled their ’86 recently. Prats wondered how they made their wines and whether it was a ‘solera system’ or if they just smothered it with sulfur (92).

The 1967 Rieussec was served out of magnum, a treasure from the cellars of Lafite. There was more orange blossom and a nuttier nose, but also similar candle wax aromas. The palate was richer and more honeyed, lush with a nice sparkle of acidity and bready flavors on its finish. There were secondary aromas of interior mahogany, and its acidity really stood out (94M).

The 1967 Suduiraut had a honeyed nose with aromas of bread crusts and oranges. Its palate was denser and thicker than the Rieussec’s, but its finish was a bit bitter in this brawny Sauternes. Apricot flavors emerged along with earth, nut and cement ones as well (93).

Last and certainly not least in this flight was the legendary 1967 d’Yquem. Bipin remarked after one smell, ‘Yquem is Yquem.’ It had the most complex and exotic nose, honeyed of course, but also possessed marzipan, grilled nuts, crème brulee and musk. Its long and delicious palate was full of apricot, nut and apple flavors. Bipin continued that it was ‘very round like a Pomerol.’ It was clearly ahead of the pack, seemingly mature but still possessing hidden acidity. Candle wax flavors emerged in this very fine and slinky Yquem. Charles Chevalier commented how 2007 was going to be a great Sauternes year, by the way (96).

1996 Krug was Bipin’s version of a palate cleanser, and Bipin shared how Remy told him that his father found 1996 to be similar to 1928”¦high praise, indeed. Its nose was very racy and full of complexity, possessing aromas of citrus, bright seltzer, hay, straw, even stable and yellow fruits. The palate was racy, zippy, citrusy and long. Buttery aromas developed, and its acidity really took over in the glass (96+).

It was on to the Burgundies, as Bipin always loves to make his Bordelais friends ‘endure’ a flight of Burgundies. This year’s flight was comprised of 1990s, beginning with a 1990 Roumier Bonnes Mares. The Roumier was a bit peanutty at first with a szechuan edge. There was also a touch of stems in this meaty and gamy wine. Musk, fireplace and rust slowly emerged. There was a lot of animal present, and I had flashes of Burghound 1990 ‘stew’ right before my very nose. The palate was more classic, however, rich and still possessing animal flavors but also vitamin ones. The wine did seem a touch autumnal and was soft and tender yet still meaty. Wolfgang was smitten, citing ‘no faults.’ In time, brown spices, chicken bouillon, citrus and strawberry emerged; the wine actually freshened up in the glass (95).

The 1990 Jadot Chambertin Clos de Beze had a seemingly fresher nose with lots of vitamins and a foresty complexity. There were edges of musk and pheremones, a bit of tangy in those regards, and a touch of salty iron. The palate was polished, soft and smooth, with flavors of beef, earth and even a bit of diet cola. It had an easy yet long finish, and I was surprised how polished it was, although there was still some nice grit (93).

The rare 1990 Leroy Musigny had that Leroy kink ”“ the beef, cedar, pine, bouillon, leather, band-aid and cement. Double your wood and double your pleasure lol. It was also polished, but it had a lot of spice, and the best acidity of the flight so far. Vanilla, wood and cement flavors were present. There was that cedary pop to its finish that Leroys often have, along with more menthol in time. Prats and Delmas admired the Leroy, one calling it ‘plus elegant et aromatique.’ Given the miniscule quantity and lofty price tag of this wine, I was a tad disappointed, as I have been more often than not with 1990 for Leroy (94+).

The 1990 Richebourg was a grand finale to this flight. Great stem aromas jumped out right away. Secondary aromas of iron, menthol, cedar and red, wintry fruits soon followed. The palate had the most pop and t ‘n a. Its finish was superb, its acidity clearly lasting longer than any of the others. There was no ‘1990 disease’ here, and its great, stemmy aromas carried over to the palate (96+).
Wolfgang was asked to speak of this flight and summed it up, ‘I am married to Bordeaux, but my mistress is Burgundy.’

It was time for Unico to shine, and seven decades of Unico were on tap, direct from the cellars of Vega Sicilia, where none of the wines have been reconditioned. We began with the 1974 Vega Sicilia Unico. That cream soda, caramel style of Unico immediately stood out. The nose had this chocolate sex appeal in a mocha latte way. While soft, the nose of the 1974 was still firmly upright. Its palate was tender with nice, citrusy spice and a great, leathery finish. There was a touch of that Vega (Spanish perhaps?) egg there, but in a good way, with a truffle on top. Polished, smooth and sexy, the 1974 Unico announced to the room that while we were no longer in France, we were still in the presence of greatness (93).

The 1962 Unico had a similar nose yet nuttier and more intense. Its caramel aromas seemed hand-made by David Bouley versus the ‘Kraft’ of the 1974. And I love Kraft caramels, so don’t misinterpret! There was a morning sunshine quality to the wine, this oatmeal, grits and whey thing, with a pat of butter, all drenched in more caramel. There were flavors of both chocolate and caramel and a rich mouthfeel to the ’62, which was still light on its feet. Polished like a fine jewel, there was amazing freshness and concentration to the ’62, whose acidity was still very ‘high,’ as Delmas observed. Citrus came out on its finish (95).

The 1953 Unico has always been one of my favorite Unicos, and this bottle was no different. It was again a sex bomb of chocolate-covered espresso beans, as it always has been for me. There was also a touch of cherry cola and the appeal of a high-class stable with hay, wood and animal all in the best of ways. Complex and sexy, it had great milkshake flavors along with dust, citrus and sour (in a good way) cherry. This was a beautiful wine, also with superb acidity, so much so that I wouldn’t be surprised to see this wine last another fifty years; it even outlasted the ’62 and continued to flex and squeeze by the end of the evening (97).

The 1942 Unico showed us how the level of complexity increases with age for Unico. Each of the first four Unicos were so similar that this flight was like watching a flower blossom over the course of an entire Spring season. In the ’42, the coffee qualities took a decadent, liqueur-like edge, and it had rich, toffee-like qualities. Delmas preferred the younger pair in this first flight, finding the older pair a bit dry. I couldn’t help but wonder if those that make (and review) wines are more partial to younger wines since circumstance dictates that that is with what they are most familiar. The flavors were more coffee, and garden joined the party, and again the sweetness and acidity stood out. Cracked white pepper emerged with time in this also stellar Unico (96).

I was asked to speak about this flight, and besides briefly sharing the above notes with the esteemed crowd, I made a point of reminding everyone how fresh these wines were despite the fact that they had never been reconditioned, and I urged everyone (who has not already) to stop the practice. Whether or not my words fell on deaf ears, I cannot answer, but at least I tried to share my own personal philosophy with this ‘who’s who’ of Bordeaux.

The second flight of Unicos actually began with the yet-to-be-released 2004 Vega Sicilia Valbuena, which was quite tough to drink after those great, old Unicos. It was very Burgundian in style; in fact, I probably would have guessed Burgundy if served it blind! Pablo was adamant about pointing out that this wasn’t a second wine but rather another style from Vega Sicilia (90+).

The also yet-to-be-released 2000 Unico was very black peppery in the nose, possessing great t ‘n a as well as touches of chocolate. It reminded me of a Guigal single-vineyard Cote Rotie with its dense purple fruit, kisses of bacon and white and black pepper. This was actually the first public tasting of this wine, which is ‘not for sale until 2010!’ Pablo exclaimed. There was indubitably great raw material here; its acidity and minerality were exquisite. Curiously, I guess I must have been feeling frisky, I wrote, ‘I will not rate this wine since it is three years prior to release, and I don’t want to get arrested lol.’

The 1994 Unico, a wine that has been heating up at auction recently, had an amazing nose. It had a summit-like quality of Burgundy, Spain and Bordeaux coming together for some sort of agreement about universal greatness in wine. Its violety and vitaminy fruit had great pitch; there was sexy musk and a touch of nut as well. This wine was a veritable ‘Purple Rain,’ complete with Apollonia, of course. The palate was taut and so young, so Burgundian in style. There were touches of cigar around its edges. Drinking this wine still seemed like taking a teenager on a date, so again thoughts of imprisonment for drinking a wine at too early an age crossed my mind :). The 1994 did have great verve and pitch and will be sure to climb my point ladder in time, but for now it remains at its best in the cellar, aging slowly and surely (95+).

Our final decade of Unico was represented by the 1989 Unico. The nose was peppery again, but there was more of a leathery kink here, and one could finally start to see again more of the classic typicity of Unico. Though dominated by pepper, the wine still had that caramel flesh and was just starting to show itself. ‘Fitting that the wine would be eighteen years old,’ I playfully wrote. Prats found ‘a touch too much oak’ in the ’89, but there was still nice spice, citrus and acidity here (93).

The Bordelais grilled Pablo at the end of this second flight, and he held hisground admirably, sharing many facts about his proud Bodega. Some left impressed, but I could tell that others were not certain this wine should be mentioned in the same breath as some of Bordeaux’s greatest clarets. To me, there is no doubt that it is as good a wine as there is in the world once it has reached a certain maturity level.

There were a couple of Tokays at the end, from Hungary, actually owned by Vega Sicilia. I had had enough sweet wines for the night, so I will end on a comment from the legendary Jean Delmas, who remarked how everything is getting sweeter; wine, food, everything, and that was not good for our health! A spoonful of sugar does not always help the medicine go down.