My two weeks working in the ‘Golden Cellar’ were basically sitting at a desk and checking bottles. I was cutting capsules, looking at corks, labels and the color of wines at a methodical pace. My first day was twelve hours; I inventoried about thirty plus cases. That’s about a bottle every two minutes. The tortoise was going to win this race.

Thankfully, not every wine in this sale is super old or Château Pétrus, or better said wines that I felt it was my duty to inspect personally. I did have help. Even more thankfully, I got to sample about twenty or so wines from the Golden Cellar during my tour of duty there this past summer.

The first wine we sampled was a pizza wine, or at least we were eating pizza with it! The 2002 Rousseau Gevrey-Chambertin Clos St. Jacques was a gorgeous wine, beautiful, classic and still young. I guess that part is obvious! Sensual and taut red fruits were balanced by vitamins and earth, and the wine’s finesse was oh so ’02; elegant, refined and stylish. 2002 is certainly a classic vintage, not over the top and one whose style will bend most Burgundy lovers’ knees (93).

Ok, so I know that is not really spot-checking for provenance, but sometimes I just need a glass of wine, too! The next night we got a little more serious. I told the owner of these wines that I wasn’t too keen on négoçiant bottles. He didn’t have many to begin with, but he was insistent that he has had some great experiences with them. ‘Show me,’ was my reply. Out came a 1955 Cheval Blanc Vandermeulen bottling. Now, I have had an awesome bottle of 1947 Pétrus Vandermeulen thanks to the Big Ticket, but other than that results have been more down than up. However, this bottle was very good. It had a rich, hearty and warm nose full of old yet vigorous fruit; olives, beef bouillon, rust and exotic spices were all there. It was very meaty in the nose and had a touch of game along with spicy alcohol notes. Rich, round and hearty, there was good definition on its medium-long finish. A touch subdued at first and not nearly as kinky or exotic as the last château-bottled ’55 Cheval that I had, it was still solid and developed some of that coffee milkshake and wintergreen with time that made me remember that original bottle. At less than half the price of an original bottle, I can’t say it’s not a good deal (92).

‘What’s next?’ I prodded. ‘I’ve been sitting in this 48-degree cellar for two days now, freezing my nuts off, and I am thirsty,’ I played. After a round of wine tennis, we settled on another wine from 1955 that I was hesitant to accept. The next wine, a 1955 Trotanoy, had a bit of a sunken cork. Authenticity was not an issue here, but the cork was a bit down in the neck and hence risky. I couldn’t offer it accordingly. Slightly depressed corks are meaningless in my book; three out of four times, we are the ones slightly depressing them since we always check for firmness of corks. However, a cork that is noticeably sunken and beyond slight depression is a different story. This bottle of Trotanoy, though, was spectacular. It had a ‘wow’ nose, kaleidoscopic in its hues and tones. Sweet candied plums, sexy caramel, exotic gingerbread and even a twist of mandarin orange were all present in this hedonistic Pomerol. The nose was ‘crazy good,’ I eloquently put. It kept unfolding in the glass, revealing more citrus spectrums and hints of coffee and forest spice. The palate was big, rich and meaty, concentrated and lush, all about the plums, buttressed nicely by a slate of minerals. Hearty and with good acid, gamy and figgy with exotic coconut, this was a thoroughbred of an old Pomerol, and another testament to how good ’55 was in the Right Bank (96).

Ok, so two bottles that I did not want to take that were quite tasty. Sorry! ‘Let’s make it three for three, you feel lucky?’ I prodded. There was a 1955 La Mission Haut-Brion with a black Nicolas stamp. I had never seen a black Nicolas stamp before. The cork was branded correctly, but I was still hesitant and said I would rather pass. Out came the cork, and it was ’55 La Miss all the way. This is a wine that I am quite familiar with, thankfully, and it was a fitting cap to this trio of so-called ‘unsellable’ wines. Better to be safe than sorry right? I guess you are starting to see why I am calling this collector ‘The Man with the Golden Cellar.’ The nose of the La Miss eased out of the glass, slowly awakening to reveal the usual wave of gravel and charcoal, followed by smoky, tobacco-laced fruit. Cassis, light traces of caramel and sweet Asian spices started to emerge and take center stage. In the mouth, there were sweet, smoky and tender flavors of beef jerky, charcoal, chocolate, white smoke, cedar and mesquite. Complex, complicated, sensual, elegant yet substantial; this was real wine if I ever had one. So stylish, it got very chocolaty and cedary, deliciously so. Rich and tasty, it put on weight in the glass. What a wine (97).

That was a good night. The next night was equally as good, in a different way. ‘A lot of Jayer in the sale, huh?’ I hinted. Now, I knew full well the quality of the Jayer in this cellar. The legendary vertical, my Top 100 Weekends… the provenance here had already been established, but I must confess that it has been a while since I had had some Jayer. Romanée-Conti? Check. Roumier, check. Rousseau, been there. Vogüé, done that… but Jayer, these wines just do not appear that often, and I rarely get to try them. People just do not have these wines, probably because the majority of them are in the Golden Cellar! I wanted to try some funky stuff, and knowing that Jayer is probably the best producer in the world of ‘off’ vintages, we settled on a pair of Échézeaux, 1984 and 1982. The 1984 H. Jayer Échézeaux was a thrilling wine because of the vintage. You know you are a wine geek when ‘thrilling’ and ‘1984 Échézeaux’ are in the same sentence, but I think anyone could have appreciated this wine. I think I have only had otherwise Jayer Richebourg from 1984; it could be one of the all-time worst vintages ever in Burgundy. ‘For one of all-time worst vintages, what a nose,’ were my first words. There was a distinct pungent mint to the nose, yet also pure and clean Burgundy fruit with vitamins and mushrooms to go with it. The mint had kink and got kinkier. The palate was rich and round with great texture on its finish. Full of animal, tart cherry, vitamin and a kiss of cedar flavors, this wine was ‘so f ‘in fab for ’84.’ I cannot tell a lie. Soft and tender and still on the right side of a plateau, this wine was nothing short of a miracle. I could not stop smacking my lips (93).

The 1982 H. Jayer Echezeaux was seductive and stylish, shy at first compared to the ’84, yet similar in style and character. It had perfumed rose, jasmine and violet aromas, reminiscent of the first floor in Bloomingdale’s with its exotic perfume. There was that twist of Jayer pungency and a splash of milk in there as well. In the mouth, the wine was rich and meaty with a long finish and clearly more power and weight than the 1984. Delicious flavors of leather and sweet cherry fruit rounded out this outstanding wine. The balance of sweetness of fruit in both these Echezeauxs was spectacular. Damn, I need to drink his wines more often before they are all gone for good (95+).

The next night we replayed our first night’s version of a tripleheader, beginning with an unidentifiable Rayas. This believed-to-be 1969 Rayas could not be authenticated as the label and vintage label were so tattered, and Rayas did not brand their corks until the 1990s. We saw a faint ‘6’ on the vintage label, and the Man with the Golden Cellar deduced it was probably 1969 based on the quantities he thought he should have of this wine. Well, I couldn’t sell it, so there was only one thing left to do! The Rayas had sweet, tender fruit with a touch of sulfur and/or lit match, very sweet overall in that Châteauneuf way. Smooth and tasty with tender leather flavors, stone and that kinky Rayas Grenache, this was indubitably the one and only Rayas, full of strawberry fruit. Sweet cream and almost chapitalized in its personality, it was very good with its pruney and ‘sweet cerise’ flavors. It was an elegant, classic Rayas, and we’ll give the ’69 credit for it (92).

For almost three days, I heard the owner talk about Leroy, how fabulous he thought her wines were, how Leroy always wins every head-to-head tasting in the 1990s that he ever does, how her wines were so undervalued relative to , etc. ‘Can we drink some Leroy already?’ I asked. ‘How about a 1985? I have had some questions about that vintage recently.’ The 1985 Leroy Chambertin was full of game, vitamins, rust, leather and iron in its spiny nose. It had the power and terroir of Chambertin, very full and frontal with roof-licking definition yet a soft, graceful finish typical of 1985. Vitamins and iron flavors took center stage, proving that Chambertin is good for you (95)!

We got sidetracked on some of the owner’s favorite Burgundy producers. Sentimentally married to Jayer, his first love, he did concede that La Tâche and Romanée-Conti were the best terroirs and most hedonisitic Burgundies, but Leroy was now his favorite producer for sheer quality today. Rousseau and Dujac rounded out his top five, while Méo, Roumier and Roty were in his honorable eight, and he did say that he was probably forgetting an obvious one or two. It is tough to argue those eight producers out of anyone’s top ten; personally, I would throw in Vogue and Mugnier, and probably Drouhin as well…but I digress.

Did someone say Dujac? A 1990 Dujac Clos de la Roche was ‘better than ‘78’ in my host’s opinion. Having sourced my two best ’78 Dujac experiences (98 and 97 points) from the Golden Cellar for two different ‘Top 100’ weekends, I was a bit skeptical about anything being better than 1978 for Dujac, but the 1990 came close. The nose was stem city with its main highway off of cinnamon avenue. There was that kiss of cedar wood, rose, more stem, garden, mint, ‘spearmint,’ and even pizza crust; there was a lot going on here. Flavors of rose, vitamins, earth, citrus skins and long cedar graced its palate. There was super length and phenomenal acidity. Super stylish and long, spiny and with incredible pitch, this one day may outshine that 1978 after all; whoever buys these see me in twelve years. Please (96+)! !!
On the fifth night, we slowed it down a bit with only, only a 1987 H. Jayer Vosne-Romanée Cros Parantoux. It was another masterful wine from the master himself. Jayer is vintage-proof! Year after year, he produces, and his wines start to get magical around age twenty ”“ never drink them young! The ’87 had a phenomenal nose of purple and rose flowers mixed with Thai peanut, carob and musk. There was great pitch to its elegantly sweet fruit. The wine was pure, delicate yet strong. Rich, round and delicious, there was bright fruit and vitamin flavors, bordering on a benevolent metal/minerals thing. This was still great wine (93).
And on the sixth day, we partied. After the work was done, that is. Tonight would be three bottles, and a magnum on top. We started with an unbelievably good 1996 D’Auvenay (Leroy) Mazis-Chambertin. D’Auvenay is an estate-owned property owned and made by Leroy. It had a big nose, with huge amounts of rusty, deep fruit, plum and cassis to be exact, with minerals and a hint of chocolate. Only 870 bottles of this wine were made. Welcome to Burgundy, the microscopic labyrinth to greatness. There was also a touch of gas and popcorn to its nose, but it did not bother me. The wine had rich, mind-boggling concentration and was mouth coating, staining and gripping, but it still had the balance of a world class Burgundy. I could not stop drinking it. This secondary soy/hoisin and rice vinegar complexity emerged with time (96).

That was just the warmup to the featured matchup, the 1996 vs. Leroy Richebourg. Let the games begin! They were served blind, but it was immediately obvious which was which. Our host remarked on the size of the Leroy’s cork and how it was 15% bigger than that of the ; he was certain Leroy would age better due to this fact, but it is tough to argue with the ageability of . The 1996 Richebourg was sensual and classic in the nose with a splash more perfume than usual. It was a lean, mean rose and rust machine with great acidity. It was wintry in a fresh, wet snow way. Minerals were crackling underneath. It was exquisite in the mouth, ‘everything it is supposed to be,’ someone shared. It was a bit lean yet still somehow meaty, racy yet its finish slow and unwinding. Rose, citrus, leather, vitamin, mineral and stem flavors were all there in this budding beauty (95).

The 1996 Leroy Richebourg had a big, cedary nose full of fir spice, cherry oil and forest characteristics. The palate was stunning, a ‘wow’ wine if there ever were one. It was like oil of wine in the mouth, super-concentrated, thick, basically ridiculous. Rusty, rich and full of vitamins and minerals, the Leroy was absolutely delicious, bullying the out of the way (97).

Well, that was certainly game, set, match. It will be interesting to see how these two develop, and to see how other vintages and other head-to-head comparisons of Leroy fare against the best of the best since she started making her estate wines in 1988.

Feeling frisky, the Man with the Golden Cellar returned with a magnum of 1978 Romanée-Conti. Say hello to my big friend. The ’78 was slow to unravel out of magnum; a lean nose started to unfold slowly into meat and light brown sugar aromas, thickening into exotic oil and syrup edges. It had the rust, the tar, the menthol and all the flavor components of great, old R-C. Its razor sharp finish left no doubt as to its greatness (96).

I had to fly back across the country to New York the next day for two nights in New York to make our first September catalogue before heading all the way back and then some to Shanghai. That catalogue production was a twenty-hour day on Monday, three hours of sleep, and then a full day Tuesday before a night flight. Now you can begin to understand how the last two months of my life were. Actually, it worked quite well because I slept for ten or eleven hours of the fifteen hour flight. I had been officially KO’d by a double auction whammy.

PART TWO

My second week of work in the Golden Cellar was on the way back from Asia. I was a bit worse for wear; my trip to Asia wasn’t short on wine or late nights, and my grand finale in Singapore had me tasting about forty wines in three nights. I really needed to dry out, and I was very jet lagged as well, so I insisted on no wine for a few days.

Actually, I had had one very special bottle in Asia courtesy of the Golden Cellar, a bottle that had been halfway across the world and back. To Taiwan and back to be exact. This 1971 La Tâche with its Taiwanese strip label was gorgeous; great fill, cork branded correctly, everything about it looked heaven sent, and I was very proud of myself with the notion that I was going to bring this bottle back to Taiwan and its original resting place upon initially coming across it my first week in the Golden Cellar. When I finally opened it, this was a bottle that was definitely shaken, not stirred. Since one cannot carry a bottle of wine onto the plane anymore, this bottle went into the luggage and not only went from New York to Shanghai, but also then from Shanghai to Hong Kong to Taipei the same day it was being drunk, and the bottle was still spectacular. I am not sure that bottle shock is something I believe anymore! Yes, it was a bit murky from the sediment being integrated into the wine, but it did not take away from the wine at all. The experience reminded me of a ’45 Haut-Brion that I had to ship overnight for a dinner a couple of years ago that was also phenomenal. The LT’s nose was spectacular, incredible, amazing… insert your own superlative here. Rose and oil were first and foremost, then there was this ménage a toi of citrus, leather and cedar, you know, the tasteful kind, ha-ha. The vitamins, minerals, spice and overall depth were extraordinary. ‘This is the 71 LT I know and love,’ I wrote. The musk qualities were bringing sexy back, and the wine itself was bordering on a sexual experience. This was sheer liquid nobility, and all these observations are just describing the aromas! The palate kept pace with the nose; first and foremost, there was rust, citrus and spine galore. Its t ‘n a was enormous, searing my mouth with its laser-like precision and possessing enough acidity to go another 36 years. There was a touch of vanilla and cream soda, and a also hint of eucalyptus. Rich and rusty with great spice, the ’71 La Tâche also had a hint of tomato stew, in a good way. What a wine (98).

Back in the USA, at the end of my second week of work in the Golden Cellar, I had gotten my sea legs back and was ready for a weekend night of imbibing and experiencing with a very special guest, Wilf Jaeger. Wilf is one of America’s prominent and most respected collectors, and close friend of the Man with the Golden Cellar. It is always great to share some bottles with him. Little did I know I would be sharing ten! Amongst four of us. About fifteen glasses each… perfect :).

Wilf is also a master chef and was donning the apron on this night, which started innocently enough with a 2002 Sauzet Chevalier-Montrachet. Wound and wicked, its nose was very intense, full of alcohol and anise, pungent and with plenty of taut citrus. Its palate was long, steely and minerally yet meaty, tangy and citrusy. Its finish was stony; this wine was still so fresh and so young and outstanding stuff (95).

Next up was a 1985 C. Noëllat Richebourg. This was the property that Leroy bought and now calls her own Richebourg. The nose was milky and gamy, with lots of sweet cherry and musky fruit. A bit of earth and tobacco rounded out the nose, but this nose was really about its tender, sweet fruit, really exotic with purple and boysenberry twists. In the mouth, it was classic, gamy Burgundy, twisted and full of citric complexities. Menthol and earth flavors graced its gritty, earthy and delicious finish (94).

It was time for a Richebourg showdown again; this time 1993 was the vintage of choice. Again, wines were served blind; again, it was easy to tell which was which. The 1993 Richebourg was shy, coiled and stemmy in its nose, with a milky, rosy and earthy complexity. There were secondary aromas of tea, wood, more stems and sweet cinnamon. In the mouth, the wine was wound and tangy, with a touch too much wood at first, very cedary in its flavor profile. The wine was undoubtedly excellent, with great acidity, and it continued to get more and more complex. Big, cedary and spiny, the palate also had traces of cinnamon and kisses of cedar, and its vitamin components became huge with time, and its musk flavors fattened out and developed nicely (93).

Once again, the 1993 Leroy Richebourg bullied the out of the way. The Leroy had a big, beefy, smoky nose with exotic soy and blue fruit aromas, along with black fruits, sweet mesquite, almost a blood orange and some white chocolate. How’s that for complex? It reminded me of something that Joel Robuchon might create if this wine were food! The palate was long and very dry, with great length as a matter of fact, along with beefy flavors. Wilf remarked that the Leroy was ‘more tannic, both young and brilliant.’ It was balanced in a Shaquille O’Neal way, like points and rebounds. The Man with the Golden Cellar remarked, ‘The ’93 Leroys could be the best wines in my cellar once they are fully mature, but the ‘96s and ‘99s will be more appealing for a while. Look at 1962. It took 3 5-40 years for people to recognize that vintage, and 1993 Leroys will be the same way. People do not know how good these wines really are.’ He went on to share how Larry Stone told him once that the 1996 Leroy Chambertin was the greatest young red Burgundy that he had had in a long time. Citrus, tang and smoke flavors rounded out this complex wine. Wilf added, ‘the wine has concentration and ‘puissance.’ This is what Burgundy lives to be. It makes me want to ring my tongue out to get the last drop.’ High praise, indeed (96+).

It was time for some old stuff; our palates had been sufficiently warmed up. A 1959 Leroy Richebourg had an incredible nose, with lots of game and that sweet ’59 fruit, along with rose, cherry, vanilla and lots of sex appeal. The nose was also creamy, with nice nut and earth behind it. Citrus and tobacco also made their presence known. The palate was not as spectacular as the nose, drier and with more citrus flavors. Wilf admired its ‘lacy and elegant’ style and its ‘high acid,’ continuing, ‘it has the cut like the greatest ‘59s, as well as ripeness.’ As far as that old Leroy magic, he reasoned, ‘Pre-1960s old Burgundy is like sausage; don’t ask what’s in it.’ On fire, he lastly praised its ‘nervous quality, more of a violin than a bass’ (94).

A super rare bottle of 1957 D’Angerville Volnay Caillerets was next. The color was pale and almost tea-like, yet the wine was gorgeous. It had a rusty nose with vitamin and cedar aromas, tender and old yet still fresh. ‘Elegant and soft, pure magic,’ Wilf interjected. It reminded Wilf of ’72, and he found it ‘pretty close to 5 stars,’ as did I. It was delicious and extraordinary, a wine for those that ‘love it tender,’ with great pine flavors and pitch at age fifty, even though this was supposed to be a wine long gone by now (94).

A 1969 Roumier Musigny was a curious fellow, an odd bottle that had the Domaine label yet the negociant vintage label. I was a bit suspicious, and initially refused the wine for consignment, so out came a bottle, and out came the cork. Wilf confirmed that Christophe’s father did indeed sell three barrels of Bonnes Mares to Remoissenet yet bottled at Roumier; Remoissenet, however, brought their own caps and corks and vintage labels. It looks like they got their hands on a little Musigny as well. This wine was spectacular, blowing away all four of us. It had an incredible nose full of rose, oil, meat, game, musk and leather. In the mouth, it was also oily, meaty and gamy with incredible richness and meat on its bones. Thick and lip-smackingly delicious, this was some serious stuff, and it was tasted after seven other serious Burgs. ‘How many more bottles of this are left?’ I asked. Duty called, and these incredible bottles had to go in now (97).

The 1947 Vogüé Musigny Vieilles Vignes was a bottle with an 8cm fill to which I said ‘no thanks,’ which would have been one of the most colossal mistakes I ever made. The nose was absolutely incredible; oily, thick, nutty and sappy. The musk and t ‘n a were divine; in fact, this was one of the most amazing noses I had ever encountered. Rust, spice, everything you could want in your Burgundy was here. The palate was thick as a brick with flavors of rose, oil, leather and game. Rich and spectacular, this even surpassed the mind-boggling bottle of ’69 Roumier Musigny we just had. I still feel like I need to write another couple of paragraphs extolling the virtues of this wine. I quickly accepted the other three bottles from this batch of four (98).

Now we were officially giddy and a bit tipsy as well, so we made perhaps a bad decision and popped open a 2000 Lafleur, which was actually better the next day. It was tough to wrap our palates around this infant after so many great old wines, but there was no doubting the enormous potential therein. It was deep, unresolved wealth; that is the best way I can put it, and about all I could muster up at this late stage of the evening (96+).

Somehow, one more bottle made its way open, a 2002 Dujac Chambolle-Musigny Gruenchers. I believe curiosity killed the Wilf. Forest and cherry aromas, forward yet reserved fruit with leather and earth ticklers in this smooth, round and precocious red (93).

That was one heck of a hangover the next day.

The wines from ‘The Golden Cellar’ spoke for themselves, as do the 112 photos we have in the catalog. This is undoubtedly one of the all-time greatest offerings of fine and rare wine ever assembled, an opportunity knocking loudly this October, two weeks from today.

www.goldencellar.com

I scraped myself up and out of Hong Kong to go grab the ferry to Macau. I later found out that helicopters are also available and a lot faster, although the boat trip wasn’t that bad, lasting only an hour. The ferries leave from Hong Kong every thirty minutes, twenty-four hours a day, and they do have a first class section with a little more leg room.

However, I will definitely never again take the ferry to Macau, because customs for the ferry riders was an absolute nightmare, zoo, anarchy ”“ take your pick. It was like a mad dash of lemmings to get to the customs lines, bottlenecking into a herd of unsupervised people just trying to even get to the lines through a narrow passageway. Can somebody put Steve Wynn or Sheldon Adelstein on that? I actually flipped out on some guy, who basically was pushing his way through and around people to the point where I hit the boiling point. ‘Don’t be an animal!’ I barked. ‘We are human! We are all trying to go here!’ He looked at me quizzically, obviously bereft of knowledge of the English language. He’s lucky he didn’t give me any lip, grrrrrrr. Maybe it was just me, but there seemed to be a recurring lack of sense for personal space throughout the whole trip. I often wished I had a radio that could play The Police’s ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me’ whenever I was encroached upon. I guess many of the bigger cities could be considered overcrowded, so perhaps it is not a big deal to everyone in Asia. Personally, I’m like a fine wine; I like to breathe! Anyway, I finally got through and on an actual customs line, and about twenty minutes later I was on my way to the Lisboa, Macau’s original casino. I figured I could get the Wynn’s in Vegas anytime, so why not get a taste of Macau’s original big fish.

Macau is basically two or three islands (I can’t remember but I think it is three) , the two main ones connected by three giant and visually exciting bridges. The main island where everyone lands is basically a five minute strip of casinos, notably the Sands, Galaxy, Wynn’s and Lisboa (and the new one they are completing, the Grand Lisboa) , while the second island is home to the just opened Venetian and others I can’t remember, with a lot more development in progress. There is a giant tourist tower to look out over all of Macau, a Fisherman’s Wharf complex, a famous massage parlor (sorry forget the name and didn’t go) , and some local commerce, ie, restaurants, shops etc. That’s about it. Some of the countryside away from the casinos is quite beautiful, especially the views and beaches overlooking the South China Sea, and there is a Westin tucked away on the other side of the second island that looked rather tranquil and a nice place to stay if you wanted to be away from the action or were to bring your kids there, but then again why would you want to do either of those if you made the effort of going to Macau? In the shadows of some of the giant casinos are still some run down and old apartment buildings that just don’t seem to fit in the landscape, but things are changing quickly, and I am quite sure that most of them will be replaced over the next few years with bigger and better things. That seems to be the trend out there.

The development in Macau is staggering. There is construction everywhere, both big-time and small such as local schools getting redone. Casino after casino after casino is coming. MGM will be the next to open. The Venetian is the first of fourteen, yes fourteen, hotels and casinos being built by the Sands, including a St. Regis, a Shangri-La, a Raffles and even a Sheraton, each costing roughly $10-12 billion to develop. Three years ago, when the Sands recouped their entire investment and then some in their first year’s profits, the floodgates opened, and the West started bringing a lot of water.

Despite Robuchon having a restaurant in the Lisboa (I’ll get to that great meal in a minute) , Macau is not really about the food and wine scene (just yet) , nor it is about the traditional tourism business with activities galore (just yet) , although the Vegas casinos are trying to change those landscapes with their own blueprints of how-to-run a casino/resort/lifestyle destination. Macau is about one thing for the most part: hardcore Chinese gamblers, 80% of whom are playing Baccarat, many of whom are smoking up a storm, hack wheeze. Macau surpassed Las Vegas last year in money gambled, but there are virtually no non-gaming revenues in Macau. The Chinese have a passion for gambling, and it is illegal in the mainland. A short trip to Macau and voila, one has legalized gambling. I read that the average stay is one and one-quarter days. Many of these gamblers, accordingly, do not even rent hotel rooms and go as far as packing their own lunches. The Chinese have been taught to be frugal, generation after generation, and when they come to gamble, they come to gamble.

Now don’t get me wrong, Macau is still a fun place, full of energy and with a few things to see, but if you don’t gamble (and the games are often different and predominantly Asian ones) , and/or aren’t taking care of business of some kind, then there might not be that much to do for you (just yet). Macau is definitely coming of age, however, and also cleaning up its act. Ten years ago, crime and streetwalkers were as common as dim sum and baccarat. Now, it seems quite safe, although I really did not do any night crawling there. The city does light up at night, Sin City style, and there is definitely a lot of energy out and about, although there is really no traditional nightlife in Macau; it does not really work yet because the Chinese come to gamble, and the Wynn’s already shut down its ‘Tryst’ nightclub that is packed every night in Vegas. The club scene is rather private, and I am far from a high-roller. One of the casinos said they had a nightclub, but it was only for the clients that spent $500,000 and up! I suppose it was for the best, especially with what next week had in store for me, but at the time I did not know the future and was sniffing around a little bit after dinner. Like I said, the Chinese come here to gamble, and it reminded me more of Atlantic City than Las Vegas, attracting more of a local and neighboring crowd, rather than the international jet-setting crowd.

So here comes Sheldon Adelstein, determined that there is more to Macau than just gambling, and that even if there isn’t, they will be just fine. The thought is the more money that more Chinese make, which is happening everyday, the more they will come to Macau to gamble, but it is obvious that part of the Vegas casinos’ plan is to make Macau a place that not only attracts the hardcore gamblers, but also one that attracts more of an international (including more of Asia) crowd that will also spend money on food, wine and entertainment.

Friday night I met with a good client of mine, and we headed out to dinner to enjoy some fine, local cuisine. We went to one of the better Chinese restaurants in Macau, I forget the name, but it reminded me a bit of Shun Lee in New York. The place was buzzing, and we soon became instant celebrities when my newfound friend pulled out a couple of bottles of fine Bordeaux.

The restaurant was very traditional Chinese, and we were the only people drinking wine. I could see all the looks we were getting, and I saw firsthand how wine is becoming a sign of status and prestige in the Chinese culture. It is coming. There was a lot of curiosity about the bottles, or possibly the really handsome white guy J. But seriously, when you think about it, wine is really only a twenty-five year phenomenon in the US, and something that only truly heated up over the last ten to fifteen. In the 1970s, my father once gave away wines from Romanee Conti in Christmas gift orders because he was tired of looking at the bottles. No one was buying them. If you put that in the context of what is similarly happening in Asia now, one can realize how the wine world is about to get a lot smaller, and there’s already not a lot of room for extra capacity at that top level. That is why I remain incredibly bullish over the finest and rarest wines in the world. Forget your properties, forget your stocks, and JUST BUY WINE, BABY!

Anyway, sorry for that station identification break; let’s talk about the wines, shall I? That’s what I am supposed to do, I know. The 1990 L’Evangile has always been one of my pet wines, and I have always considered it to be undervalued. If 1961 L’Evangile is one-third the price of 1961 Petrus, then how is 1990 L’Evangile one-twelfth the price of the ’90 Petrus? There is an equivalent qualitative analysis that can be made between those two years, and other years between the two producers. I guess L’Evangile is one of those rare Bordeaux that is actually undervalued, ahem ahem. Can you say market correction? Sorry, I’m digressing again. The 1990 L’Evangile was classic, very expressive with lots of tannins and alcohol in the nose. It also had luscious fruit, a plum, cassis and black olive trifecta. There were secondary brick, wheat and nut aromas. Its fruit was meltingly sweet, and red mixed in with purple and a splash of black. It was quite explosive on the finish with its tannins and acidity, yet it was still balanced with a wealth of a fruit rainbow. Green olive flavors graced its finish. It was just flat-out delicious wine, still sturdy, long and fine. Some food toned down the (positive) aggressive nature of its t ‘n a qualities, but its acidity stayed long and scintillating (96).

What was this, 1988 Lafite Rothschild? Ok, we all know that China and Lafite are like Romeo and Juliet (or is it the other way around?) , but no one attacked our table or ripped off our clothes, so the supply hasn’t dried up too significantly (just yet). The ’88 had a wonderful nose, very smoky in addition to the usual cedar, mineral and tobacco. It has nice vim, but I wouldn’t call it vigor. There was also some exotic chestnut on a secondary bed of cassis. Pencil was there, along with good spice. Long and hearty, the ’88 Lafite had good intensity without being intense. Carob, earth, tobacco and a kiss of wood flavors rounded out this excellent wine. My friend felt the wine still had another 15-20 years before it will start to plateau and/or gracefully decline, and I couldn’t argue with that. The ’88 Lafite was flirting with being outstanding with its carob flavors, light dust and slaty, minerally finish. There was still plenty of meat on dem der bones (94).

A half-bottle of 2001 Rieussec rounded out our evening. I generally don’t do dessert or dessert wine, as I find the sugar too much for me after a big meal, but I do appreciate the sweet stuff even though my stomach does not. The Rieussec was such a baby. Candle wax was incredibly primary, along with ‘nougat, honeycomb and butterscotch.’ Orange marmelade and apricot flashed sweetness in the nose, along with ‘macadamia nuts,’ musk and more honeycomb. ‘Ocean sea salt and fish’ was the last descriptors to come out of my friend’s increasing comments, and I totally saw them all. In the mouth, the Rieussec was rich, balanced and oily without being cloying and heavy. One could feel the potential (96). It was truly great, but on cue, I started to feel a little woozy. The week in Hong Kong really took a toll on me, and here I was in Macau, sin city of the Far East, but I was ready for bed. Sometimes, a good night’s sleep is the best time one can have.

About twelve hours later, I slowly worked my way into the day, feeling much better after finally having a good night’s sleep. After answering some emails and doing a bit of work, I decided to go and get a massage in the spa at the Lisboa. Refreshed, I went to an afternoon meeting and then proceeded to join someone else for dinner at Robuchon in the Lisboa, where tucked away from all the noise and action of Macau, there is one of the world’s greatest wine lists, a wine list fit for the gastronomic genius of Robuchon, nestled carefully within the tranquil and distinguished settings of the third floor at the Lisboa.

After about fifteen intense and hardcore minutes with the massive wine list, I settled on a 1982 Drouhin Montrachet Marquis de Laguiche. It had a fabulous, smoky nose and reeked of Montrachet with its minerals and smoke aromas. Sweet butter and hints of tropical fruits (mango and orange, to be exact) were behind the smoke and minerals. Its forward fruit and pungent intensity were equally matched by a smooth and soft palate, one at perfect maturity. A nice nutty finish and a kiss of acidity rounded out this absolutely delicious wine. Touches of the usual suspects also graced the palate; corn, butter, diesel and a touch of minerals were all singing on key and in harmony (93).

We were in the last third of the seventeen or so course tasting menu by the time we finished the Montrachet and were in the mood for a glass of red. Since we probably were not going to finish a whole bottle, we opted for a value selection, and Italy was calling with some tremendous buys on the list. Unfortunately, it looked like someone beat us to them, and after missing out on a couple of selections, we settled on a 1994 Williams Selyem Pinot Noir Rochioli Vineyard. I often grab a bottle of domestic Pinot when in the mood for some casual drinking. I can still appreciate a good, tasty bottle of wine, even if it is twenty bucks a bottle, etc. Now, the Williams Selyem is not that much of a value, but I was quite curious to see how well one of California’s premier producers of Pinot would be holding up at age thirteen. The nose was high-toned with a touch of gas and kernel, and a bit of an artificial edge, to be frank. There were also vitamins, and my friend found it ‘piggy.’ He doesn’t eat pork, either, so I don’t think that was a compliment. Flavors of bright citrus and sour cherry marked its soft palate, and the wine passed the gas from its nose to its palate. It was good, but merely just that, and the more I tasted it, the less I was interested (87).

Our French Sommelier wrapped up our evening, defending the Williams Selyem saying, ‘Pinot Noir is a special woman that needs to be taken care of, it is not Cabernet.’ I will leave all inferences up to you!

Fat and happy, I retreated again for another quiet night in Macau. It was time for Tokyo tomorrow.

From Taipei it was back to Hong Kong, where my first twenty-four hours were not so glamorous. I was basically stuck in my hotel room for that first day and night there, working around the clock on our first September auction catalog. It was a bit more work than anticipated, and my schedule became blurry shifts of naps, meetings, lunches and dinners for my entire time there. I was getting a bit edgy, I must confess, as a good night sleep soon became a distant memory.

What was glamorous was the spectacular view overlooking the Hong Kong harbor from my room at the Grand Hyatt, keeping me in touch with the energy constantly emerging from the amazing city of Hong Kong. Hong Kong is like the New York City of Asia, with a splash of Hawaii, and a giant harbor as well. In a brief history lesson that I later got from a taxi driver I hired for the day, there are currently over seven million people in HK, half of whom live in affordable government housing, where a fifty square meter apartment will cost the equivalent of $150 US a month. While gas may be a small fortune, and wine still taxed heavily, the government does make sure that its working class people have affordable necessities. There are three main territories in HK; Kowloon, Central and the New Territory, but which is what and where I’ll have to get back to you on. Hong Kong is driven by the financial sector, along with tourism, manufacturing, and more financial activity. I believe the government posted over a $50B surplus last year. Not bad for one year and seven million people, I’d say!

The Chinese language is a maze of hundreds of dialects, although the one unifying factor is that the language of reading and writing is all the same. Mandarin is quickly becoming the dominant dialect and the chosen one of Beijing and Shanghai, while Cantonese is a fading second, although more prevalent in HK from what I understood. ‘What’s the third most common dialect,’ I asked my driver. ‘Fuking,’ he replied. After confirming the spelling, I asked on cue, ‘Is there a lot of Fuking in China?’

Ok, sorry for that one to all my Chinese friends, I couldn’t help myself. One must laugh and love to live, no? Anyway, I finally escaped to dinner with a former New York client that retired back to Hong Kong. We went to Yung Kee, a great authentic and traditional Chinese restaurant where you must try the goose! He graciously brought a 1990 Haut Brion. This bottle was decanted for over two hours, as his taste prefers a rounder, softer and gentler style of Bordeaux, and I am sure the same goes for many of his Hong Kong brethren. The wine had a gorgeous and open nose full of cassis fruit, supported by cedar, minerals and tobacco. There were lots of layers and nuances to this complex wine. Tobacco came to the forefront of its aromas, and a baked morning cereal quality emerged. Despite the two hours of decanting, the finish was still spicy and had rock solid t ‘n a. There were lots of tobacco and earth flavors, and its style was long and regal. Stylish, long and with a smoky finish, the ’90 HB was a pleasure to drink in HK. There were also nice mineral flavors to its now satiny finish (95).

It was back to work after dinner, and the next fourteen hours consisted of that and short naps, as well as a morning massage to resuscitate. Massage is one of the keys to survival when traveling and overworking; without them I think I’d be dead already. Revived and regenerated, I headed over to Petrus, one of Hong Kong’s more renowned restaurants, nestled high in the sky in the Shangri La hotel. Most of the top restaurants in Asia are in the biggest hotels, although that culture is starting to change. In Hong Kong, it is a good thing, as the views from the top in this incredible city are breathtaking.

It was only lunch, so my guest and I settled on a 1997 Lafon Meursault Charmes. 1997 has become one of my favorite white Burgundy vintages to drink at the moment, and this Lafon once again proved why. It had a fabulous nose that was ‘right there.’ There was incredible musk, sweet butter, caramel and great spice aromas, as well as citrus twists and pine and mahogany traces. Still fresh and just starting to enter that plateau of maturity, the ’97 had great citrus flavors and kisses of earth and minerals. Its buttery flavors were still sweet, and this was excellent stuff, the perfect lunch time solution (93).

After more meetings, naps and catalog, I found myself at Yung Kee again for a casual get together. I told you this place is good! We sampled a 2001 Chateau Kefraya ‘Comte de M,’ Lebanon’s other wine, its first ambassador being the always interesting and tasty Chateau Musar. The Kefraya is a Cab/Syrah blend and had a big, deep nose full of dark black fruits and a leathery, rocky kink. Firm tannins and alcohol were framed by a kiss of modernity. Its flavors had sweet fruit, still on the black side but with cherry twists. Medium-bodied, the wine had good tannin and nice grit. There was some beef to its flavor profile, szechuan perhaps, or that might have been the table next to me! Some bacon from its Syrah emerged, and a touch of olive rounded out this smooth and pleasant wine (90).

The next morning, also my last day in Hong Kong, I finally finished that damn catalog, so I could now have a relaxed lunch with a significant private collector, one who generously brought a 1975 Petrus! Unfortunately, the bottle was slightly maderized, but not enough not to enjoy it throughout a most memorable lunch. 1975 Petrus can be one of the riskier Petruses in the vintage market due to the fact that there was a bottling issue at the Chateau that year, as many seasoned collectors will attest to. Nonetheless, I had no problem drinking it! ‘Mushroomy’ at first, my host noted, and there was old, gamy fruit, musk and a citric twinge. He quickly assessed that he had had better bottles, but the quality of the tannins and acidity were still very self-evident, and the wine had a smooth and satiny body with a nice nip to its finish. Its flavors were a bit old, though, and clearly advanced for its age. It still had a dusty finish, dry caramel flavors and nice grit despite polished tannins. The structure was there, but this gamy bottle, as previously noted, was not all that it could be (93A).

My last night in HK saw me at the home of one of its longstanding collectors, one who had amassed a joyous gathering of friends to celebrate my first trip to his home sweet home. I traveled up the famous ‘Peak’ where many of the lifestyles of Hong Kong’s rich and famous reside. It is a giant mountain overlooking all of Hong Kong, and getting up it is a long and winding road that would have made Lennon proud.

You know it is a good night when the cocktail round is a 1985 Roulot Meursault Perrieres. It was a bit cold at first, but it warmed up to reveal aromas of corn, yeast, oil, earth, gamy white meat and a hefty pat of sweet butter. In the mouth, it was round, rich, tasty and pure with long acidity and nice spice and length. This was exquisite stuff, round, smooth and buttery, ‘almondy and hazelnutty’ one noted, while another found it ‘still so fresh.’ Orange marmelade rounded out this complex and delicious white (95).

We sat down to a pair of La Turques, 1989 and 1990, to be exact. The Rhone had finally made an appearance on my Asian tour, and the 1989 Guigal Cote Rotie La Turque was special stuff. At first, it was very shy and wound, with slick tannins and alcohol, subtle and slinky yet long and elegant. Cracked white pepper, violet and crushed black fruits eased out of its reticent nose slowly but surely. The palate was quite spicy with lots of pepper, cedar and mineral flavors, yet somehow the wine was able to remain soft and caressing. There was impeccable balance, nice spice and enough pitch to make the three tenors go for thirds (96).

The 1990 Guigal Cote Rotie La Turque was a bit more controversial. At first, I preferred the 1990, I will admit. It was more open, more forward and had more fruit initially. Nonetheless, it was very similar to the ’89, also stylish and sensual, and also possessing the white pepper, the violet and the cassis, but also more yeast. One noted that it was ‘more dusty,’ while another noted its ‘mint.’ There was also more bacon, menthol and flesh, but our host was steadfastly in the 1989 camp, as was one of Hong Kong’s most respected and distinguished merchants. The question was whether this bottle of 1990 was a bit more developed than it should have been, and with oxygen its initial forward qualities started to lose focus in the glass a bit. I still did like its forward, fleshy and gamy style, but the consensus was that this bottle was just a touch off (94A).

Another pair of ’89 and ‘90s were next, this time being La Conseillante. The 1990 La Conseillante had a deep, intense nose, oh so Pomerol with its cocoa, game, plum, chocolate, dates and coconut aromas. Its t ‘n a was rock solid, and its ‘plenty of fruit’ was admired. Similar exotic flavors graced its extraordinary palate. ‘Game, game and more game,’ I wrote. In the end, the 1990 had more balance and depth than the 1989, a touch more classic, but it was a very fine hair to split (96).

The 1989 La Conseillante was similar in style but more brutish, but not in a bad way, more in a ‘watch out or it might play dirty’ way. It managed to rein all that in. Its opulent Pomerol fruit aromas seeped out of the glass. There was some caraway to go with its date and mineral flavors, along with vanilla, game and purple fruit. Opulent and more kinky than the 1990, the ’89 La Conseillante was still surely outstanding (95).

Someone made a joke about ‘Bored-eaux.’ I did tell you Asia was a continent of claret, didn’t I? Variety is not one of the Asian market’s specialties just yet, but it will come.

The next wine was quite exciting, however, despite it being yet another ”“ yawn ”“ Bordeaux. Just kidding! I still love the stuff and all of God’s children for that matter, at least when the winemaker doesn’t get in the way. The 1949 Mouton Rothschild was a great bottle of this wine though unfortunately a bit corked, but the transparency and clarity of the wine still came through on the palate. Tender, soft, smooth and easy, its corkiness blew off a bit to reveal cedar, leather, dust and tobacco flavors. Then, its cassis and black rose fruit flavors really came through. In fact, the cork seemed to disappear as both time and the wine kept unfolding in the glass. Round, beautiful and balanced, I really felt that I could still taste this seductive wine despite the initial, pronounced cork aromas, and I decided that my judgment of the wine was not clouded; hence, there will be no ‘A’ for affected for this score (94).

The last wine on this memorable evening was a blind Port. The English are so predictable, ha ha, but not this Englishman, as he served a 1900 Taylor’s Vintage Port! What a treat. Its nose was sweet, smooth and nutty, on the cherry side with a shot of Robitussin in there. Tasty yet a touch medicinal with its alcoholic edges, as Port is prone to be when it becomes ancient, it was very smooth and soft, which had me guessing 1955, but I should have known better. I’ll get it right next time (92)!

Many thanks to my generous friend. It was a great way to cap the very hard week I had in Hong Kong, but wait a second, that wasn’t the nightcap”¦all I can say is two bottles of Cristal and San Antonio Spurs dancers, no lie! They were on some promotional tour of Asia, and they liked their Champagne, so being the gentleman I am”¦it was a fun time. Thankfully, I knew when to make my exit, as I had danced my dinner off, blew off all of the week’s steam, and somehow remembered that I had to make it to Macau in the morning.

One more thing before I forget. The Hong Kong airport is also magnificent and monumental. One could spend the whole day there leisurely. In fact, most of the major airports in Asia, and the couple to which I have recently been in Europe, were all very nice, with incredible shops, spas, healthy and multiple restaurant options and often much more, although the sex shop in the Munich airport I thought was a bit inappropriate for traveling families (!) American airports are HORRIBLE by comparison, full of junk food, crummy t-shirts, often run down and grimy. Can’t we find a way to make traveling in our country a little more civilized?

After a hearty weekend in Shanghai, the next stop on my Asian tour was Taipei, capital city of Taiwan. After looking at my itinerary, then a map, and then my itinerary again, I quickly learned that China still has a chip on its shoulder in regard to Taiwan and its independence, the equivalent of sibling jealousy or resentment over an ex-wife or husband. Accordingly, one cannot travel directly to Taiwan from China, and I had to fly from Shanghai to Hong Kong, layover for an hour or so, and fly back up to Taipei, even though Taiwan is between the two. It literally made the trip a Taipei two step. I was a bit grumpy about the whole situation, especially after the consecutive head-banging evenings in Shanghai, but I soon forgot about the extra effort once I sat down to the magnificent dinner that my host had orchestrated. Someone remarked during dinner that ‘a barking dog cannot bite’ in response to my recount of the mini-ordeal.

Taiwan is an island, mountainous, rural and green by contrast to Shanghai and the flatlands surrounding it. The city of Taipei is not as awe-inspiring as Shanghai but still definitively urban and buzzing away. Taipei is a scooter city, with thousands of people driving them around at any given time. It seems to be the preferred method of transportation.

I stuck with the taxi as my choice for transportation and traveled over to the Ritz, or what was formally the Ritz, recently purchased and renamed, but basically still the Ritz. The private room in its top restaurant was ours for an evening of special Burgundy. Asia is definitively a continent of claret, so I found it quite fitting that the spirit of Burgundy would be alive and well in Taipei, as both Burgundian wine lovers and the Taiwanese seem to have that independent spirit burning inside, and on this night, the two came together in perfect harmony.

Taiwan’s most significant wine collector had gathered a group of friends together, notably another significant collector of Burgundy who also does some importing, one of its major wine and food writers and two very happy and good-natured Doctors, one of whom declared himself ‘Mr. La Tache.’ If you do not know who Taiwan’s premier collector is, then I am not going to tell you! For the sake of this article, we will call him ‘Mr. T.’

We started with a magnum of 1976 Veuve Clicquot Champagne, the traditional vintage, gold label. It had a gorgeous nose full of both white and brown sugar aromas, as well as a touch of corn oil and caramel. It was rich and buttery yet long, smooth and round, with a pinch of seltzer rounding out its nose. Its palate still had a touch of petillance and was round, rich and buttery as well. There were great corn and yeast flavors and some wheat on its finish. Very tasty and still with good acidity, it reminded me of a delicious and mature Corton Charlemagne, and after an hour in the glass and some food, it got a touch more bubbly (93)!

Mr. T pulled out one of my favorite Burgundies next, a 1985 Meo Camuzet Richebourg. It was in outstanding condition, and the wine delivered a more than outstanding performance. It had a pungent, gamy nose with incredible sweet fruit behind, a veritable symphony of red, black and purple. There were loads of vitamins, musk, minerals and pungent leather. ‘We are talking rare air,’ I wrote. Its tannins and acidity were still so fresh; it was an impeccably kept bottle. Its gamy complexity walked itself out into a Versailles garden of aromas, barefoot and perfectly manicured. The palate was equally as spectacular as the nose: rich, meaty, long and balanced with flavors of earth, game, leather, musk and dark, pungent meat. It had a pinch of benevolent barn, in a farmer’s daughter way, I suppose. A touch of benevolent cat box also joined the party, blending into a wicked streak of anise. The vigor, the kink, the intensity, the game”¦in my mind, the 1985 Meo Richebourg is the wine of the vintage (98).

A 1972 Bouchard Gevrey Chambertin Clos St. Jacques was brought by one of the guests, and it was from some stock recently released from Bouchard’s cellars and in perfect condition accordingly. It had a nice nose, full of sweet cherry fruit and excellent forest-like complexity. Brown sugar and nut along with a ginger glaze and an exotic lychee kink rounded out this youthful wine. The palate was rich, sweet and sturdy with great structure, make that surprisingly huge structure, and lots of cherry vanilla flavors. Despite that ‘o so fresh’ feeling of being reconditioned, it was still a delicious wine (93).

A 1975 Bouchard Monthelie was spontaneously opened after the success of the Clos St. Jacques. Monthelie and 1975 are not usually a few of any Burgundy connoisseur’s favorite things, but the nose was pleasant, and I never would have guessed either 1975 or Monthelie if served blind. Mild and a touch metallic, square and with noticeable acid, the wine was rusty and spiny, hard as nails without being too, too hard. Still a touch awkward, Mr. T commented on its ‘sour wood’ (86).

The final wine of the evening was a 1971 La Tache, a bottle that had been to Taiwan and back. Let me explain further. Now I knew Mr. T was an old Burgundy lover based on his bidding history, and I promised to bring a bottle of Burgundy to share on this special night. The week before my trip to Asia, I was cataloguing away in the cellar of ‘The Man with the Golden Cellar,’ the incredible and potential $15M collection coming to you this October via Acker Auctions. When I was inventorying the ’71 La Taches and the different batches that this spectacular collection has, I noted a couple of bottles with Taiwanese strip labels on them, and right then and there, I decided that I was going to splurge. That was going to be the bottle I was going to bring back to Taiwan. The bottle was gorgeous; great fill, cork branded correctly, everything about it looked heaven sent, and I was very proud of myself with the notion that I was going to bring this bottle back to Taiwan and its original resting place. I would later find out that Mr. T knew the importer quite well, as I should have guessed!

I must interrupt this tasting note with an important news bulletin. Whenever an American sees an Asian strip label on a bottle of wine, more often than not, that American will look at that bottle as being ‘bad’ or highly risky, etc. Conversely, I have found that wines with American strip labels suffer from the same bias here in Asia. You know what I discovered on my trip? I found out that those who are professional and serious about their wine in Asia are taking care of the product just like we do here in the States, and that the same can be said for both of our continents’ serious collectors. This notion of inferior provenance here and there, trumpeted by many in such major supply markets as London and Bordeaux, is an unfair assessment, one that is also conveniently justifying higher sale prices in said markets, as well as keeping the Asian and American markets more apart. There will always be a small risk when buying older wines, no matter where they come from; small, that is, if you are dealing with reputable merchants that thoroughly inspect and care for the wine. More great wine has gone to America over the last fifteen years than anywhere else, and the time is now for America to emerge as more of an important secondary wine market for the rest of the world. The weak dollar should also make the stock here all the more attractive to foreign buyers. Asia’s consumption is rapidly on the rise, so put two and two together, and now you know why I have been here for almost three weeks, and also why I have only gotten to the third night of its tasting notes. Sorry, it has been a ridiculously busy trip, twelve years in the making”¦*hiccup*

Back to the ’71 La Tache”¦now this was a bottle that was definitely shaken, not stirred. Since one cannot carry a bottle of wine onto the plane anymore, this bottle went into the luggage and not only went from New York to Shanghai, but also then from Shanghai to Hong Kong to Taipei the same day it was being drunk, and the bottle was still spectacular. I am not sure that bottle shock is something I believe anymore! Yes, it was a bit murky from the sediment being integrated into the wine, but it did not take away from the wine at all. The experience reminded me of a ’45 Haut Brion that I had to ship overnight for a dinner a couple of years ago that was also phenomenal. Its nose was spectacular, incredible, amazing”¦insert your own superlative here. Rose and oil were first and foremost, then there was this ménage a toi of citrus, leather and cedar, you know, the tasteful kind ha ha. The vitamins, minerals, spice and overall depth were extraordinary. ‘This is the 71 LT I know and love,’ I wrote. The musk qualities were bringing sexy back, and the wine itself was bordering on a sexual experience. This was sheer liquid nobility, and all these observations are just describing the aromas! The palate kept pace with the nose; first and foremost, there was rust, citrus and spine galore. Its t ‘n a was enormous, searing my mouth with its laser-like precision and possessing enough acidity to go another 36 years. There was a touch of vanilla and cream soda, and a also hint of eucalyptus. Rich and rusty with great spice, the ’71 La Tache also had a hint of tomato stew, in a good way. What a wine (98).

There were no late night escapades in Taiwan. It was off to Hong Kong in the morning for four nights and a busy agenda, and I needed some rest.