Two Bottles of 1959 Latour Wasted on Charlie Sheen

A few years ago, I wrote an article about the fabulous wine cellar holdings at Daniel, the posh Upper East Side restaurant. At one point during my interview with then-sommelier Philip Marchal, he lifted up a $7,800 bottle of 1961 Latour and showed it to me. I remember wondering what sort of person ordered such a pricey item.

Now I know. Charlie Sheen.

The addled actor continued his long and glorious history of alcohol and drug abuse during a dinner at Daniel last week. I'm not so upset that he snorted cocaine in the bathroom, or that he tried to use the same facility as an impromptu bedroom. But did the restaurant have to sell him two bottles of the exceedingly rare Grand Vin de Chateau Latour 1959, at $5,900 a pop? Pictures shown the actor holding the bottle by the neck. No doubt he slugged it back like a bottle of Thunderbird.

Back during my interview, I was told Mr. Boulud has a special relationship with the owner of Latour, Francois Pinault. He is a frequent guest at Daniel and a fan of the chef. Thus, diners with the wherewithal can choose from among the otherwise hard-to-find '09, '59, and '70 Latour vintages. What a waste.

Gruaud Larose Through the Decades

It never ceases to amaze me how deep the cellars owned by members of the Wine Media Guild go, and how generous those members are with their holdings.

Every year, the group, to which I belong, puts together a thrilling vertical tasting of an important, historical wine house, usually in Bordeaux. This year, it was Chateau Gruaud Larose, the highly esteemed second growth known for its massive power. The set line-up was impressive enough, with vintages from 2008 back to 1989. But members also contributed private bottles containing juice from 2000, 1990, 1986, 1982, 1975, 1971 and 1970. There were some vintages that not even David Launay, the general manager of the estate, and the Guild's guest, had tasted. Every time I thought I had sampled everything, someone passed by with a new bottle saying "I brought this from home." (Most of the donated bottles came from one member who had been collecting Gruaud Larose for years.)

The standouts for me (and others) were the 2000 and the 1970. The 2000 vintage, of course, has been widely heralded, and it was nice to see the wine fulfill that promise. It had a wonderful stinky, barnyard nose (something I detected on many of the older Gruauds) and was rich and chewy, with lovely fruit.

The 1970, meanwhile, had people swooning all over the place, going to their happy Bordeaux place. "This is what I mean when I say I like Bordeaux," said one. More magenta that red, it had a beautiful, nuanced barnyard aroma, as complex and multi-layed as you like, and was elegant and plush on the tongue. The fruit was still robust, the tannins relaxed and the structure impeccable, firm yet loose. Funny how different it was from the 1971, which was like a paler, lightweight version of the 1970, a disappointment. The 1986 has been praised by Parker and one can see why. It's a very good wine, but one that is easy to like, quite less subtle than 1970. Of the more recent vintages, the 2008 had a lot going for it, big tannins, full dark fruit. It could go far.

Gruaud is about two-thirds Cabernet Sauvignon, the rest being a quartet Merlot and a little Petit Verdot. Launay said the chateau was busy planting more Cabernet, ripping out Merlot, because it was determined that Cabernet would grow better on the soil in question.

Chateau Haut-Bailly and Domaine de Chevalier Meet in New York

Wine Media Guild member Mark Golodetz was responsible for one of my favorite guild tastings since I joined the organization: a vertical tasting, from 2000 to 2006, of neighboring Pauillac domains Chateau Lougueville au Baron de Pichon-Longueville and Chateau Pichon-Longueville Comtesse de Lalande. On Jan. 22, he performed a similar feat, lining up a notable double-header of two famed Bordeaux Chateaux, both Grand Cru Classe de Graves from the Pessac-Leognan region: Chateau Haut-Bailly and Domaine de Chevalier.

Tastings focusing on a particular grape, or a particular region, or grape within a region, are fine. But they aren't hard to come by in the wine world. Something like this is special, and truly educational, allowing you to examine a couple wine houses, near to each other is basic style and geography, over the years. Having the winemakers on hand makes the event doubly illuminating.

Speaking for Domaine de Chevalier was pink-faced, white-haired, jovial owner Olivier Bernard (right). He became head of Domaine de Chevalier in 1983 at the age of 23. The speaker from Haut-Bailly was tall and thin Cellar Master Gabriel Vialard, once of Smith-Haut-Lafitte, who has been charge of the cellars since 2002. In addition, the owner of Chateau Haut-Bailly, Robert Wilmers, attended. He sat next to me, and, in his genteel, patrician grayness, seemed every inch the old banker and power broker he is. Wilmers bought Haut-Vailly a decade ago and calls himself strictly a "Bordeaux Man."

For the pre-lunch tasting, both Haut-Bailly and Domaine de Chevalier provided seven red vintages: 2001, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06 and 07. Chevalier also furnished three white wine vintages, including a 2001 which was an absolute highlight. It was a beautiful, dignified, steel-and-mineral wine, restrained, with a perfect, pinpoint structure. A masterpiece.

Chevalier has almost 94 acres of vines, of which red varieties are 65% Cabernet Sauvignon and 30% Merlot, the balance being 2.5% Cabernet Franc and 2.5% Petit Verdot. Haut-Bailly, located on a small hill, has 74 acres of vines planted. It still has fifteen percent of its 100-year-old vines dating from the pre-phylloxera period –- a mixture of Cabernet Franc, Carmenère, Merlot, Malbec, Petit Verdot, and Cabernet Sauvignon. This is a point of pride for Haut-Bailly, as well as it should be. The majority of the estate, meanwhile, is planted with 64% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30% Merlot, and 6% Cabernet Franc.

In his introduction, Mark described Bernard as a man from which you hae to coax information. But I didn't find him shy. Once he got going, he ended up speaking more than anyone, and was very free with this philosophical aphorisms, such as "I want to make wine from the fruit," and "Never too much, but always enough," as well as "We are not talking about drinkability enough today" and "Oak is for people who don't have enough terroir." 

Both Bernard and Vialard emphasized terroir, and their unflagging respect for it. Bernard said he only wished to bring out the wine the soil intended. "It is easy to make big wine. But it is not Bordeaux, sorry. Extraction is very well paid in Bordeaux. I like to talk about concentration, not extraction, which is a human effort." 

Needless to say, everyone in the guild was in happy agreement with the winemakers, and chuckled at their shots at the tastes of "a certain wine critic." Wilmers said Haut-Bailly would change "over his dead body."

The wines of the two houses showed their marked personalities. Overall, Haut-Bailly seemed less fruit-oriented and more restrained. Chevalier was more immediately appealing, even in off-years, while Haut-Bailly's charms were more subdued and subtle. I thought I was imagining things when I found myself more attracted to the 2002s, rather than the famous 2000 and 2005 vintages (fine as they were, particularly the 2000 Haut-Bailly). But a few fellow drinkers confirmed my preference. 2002 may not be a great vintage, but right now these two Graves were drinking splendidly. The Chevalier had a wonderful, sweet tobacco nose, good composition, nice depth and subdued fruit. The Haut-Bailly had a full fruity nose, and a sweet-tough taste of dark fruit and tobacco skin.

Another surprise was how nicely the little-heralded 2007s were tasting. The Chevalier was a bright, dry, plummy delight.

With lunch, their 1990 red vintages were served. I'm sorry to say these were a bit disappointing, a bit watery and faded. But the restaurant got wind of Wilmers' presence and served him some of Haut-Bailly's 1983, which they had in their cellar. He gave me a sip. That was pure heaven, wonderfully deep and silky. A dream. I didn't feel too bad taking a draught. I'm sure old Wilmers has a dozen bottles of it in his cellar.

Your $10 Recession Wine of the Week: Chateau Lamothe de Haux Bordeaux Blanc 2008

My local wine store recommended this Chateau Lamothe de Haux as a good buy. I raised an eyebrow. A decent Bordeaux Blanc as a decent price is hard to find. What were the chances that a $13 bottle would be anything but thin, acidic stuff.

But I was surprised. This little known chateau has produced a fine bargain in its 2008 Blanc, made up of 40% Sauvignon Blanc, 40% Semillon and 20% Muscadelle, with fifty percent of the juice left on the lees for three weeks. This is a bottle of lemon sunshine, with notes of white melon and grass. It's not quite complex, just above simple, and with a enticing mineral-metallic base. It delivers quite enough interest for the price, and no more than one would want on a lazy summer day.

Pichon-Baron Pichon-Lalande Showdown

Meetings of the Media Wine Guild are typically pleasant and edifying. It's not usual, though, that they are historic. But the one held April 27, 2009—which featured vertical tastings, from 2000 to 2006, of neighboring Pauillac domains Chateau Lougueville au Baron de Pichon-Longueville and Chateau Pichon-Longueville Comtesse de Lalande (hereafter referred to as simply Baron and Lalande)—was just that.

And it's not me who called it historic. It's the managers of those two fine Bordeaux properties themselves, who were in attendance. "We have never done this tasting before," said Christian Seely, manager of the Baron site. Gildas d'Ollone of Lalande concurred.

So why should they even think to do such a tasting in the first place? Well, there's good reason. The two Chateaus are side by side, and are historically linked. They were once part of the same property, owned by Pierre de Rauzan. As I understood the story from Seely, this changed when the Baron married into the winemaking family. Rauzan gave them the estate, which was rechristened Chateau Pichon Longueville. Of the children the marriage produced, the daughters divided the estate into the two Pauillac Chateaus we know today, while the sons got 60 acres of vineyards around Château Margaux.

It was amusing to see the two grand men diplomatically making the cases for their wines. Though they behaved civilly enough to one another—and I was told that whatever rivalry there once was has subsided—you could tell the gentleman eyed each other with a certain modicum of underlying suspicion and jealousy. Seely, English, curly-haired, bow-tied (his signature cravat) and smiling, was the the more canny as self-marketing, peppering his speeches with wry asides and self-deprecating humor. The old, white-maned Frechman's d'Ollone's dignity was coiled more tightly; humor was not an arrow in his quiver.

Though both Chateaus share the same undulating ground and gravelly soil, there are appreciable differences in their wines. Baron wines typically use somewhere around 65% Cabernet Sauvignon in their blend, and very little Cabernet Franc. Lalande used to employ something along the lines of a 45-35% mix of Cab vs. Merlot, but in recent years has inched the Cab up to around 65%.

There was much to like in the offerings of both vineyards. Obviously, these are world class wines, so there were no bad bottles, just ones that were comparatively better than others. Overall, I preferred the Lalande wines, mainly because I found more depth and variation in the various vintages. The 2000, in particular, had a mushroomy, barnyard nose, and earthy palate of mushrooms and green olives that positively stood out among its brother bottles. The Baron wines routinely furnished inviting and enjoyable notes of cherry, berries and other red fruit, with greener notes as the wines got younger. (The 2006 was extremely extracted.) The Lalandes, however, often gave out enticing, more challenging flavors of charcoal, pencil lead and darker fruit. To put it another way, the Barons with bright, the Lalandes were moody. (However, it may be that, money-wise, the Barons are the bargain wines; the Lalandes are considerably more expensive.)

But that's just my opinion. I was informed later that a table of the Guild's senior members, Bordeaux purists all and Cab nuts, were liking the Baron wines best.

There was little debate, however, as to the wine of the afternoon. That was the Lalande 1985, served with lunch. As one member said, "it sang." An amazing wine, smooth and integrated, with touches of mellow mushrooms and green brush, and beautiful character and depth. Mature, but alive. It was heavenly. Seely even jokingly admitted he would not dare to show the Baron 1985 against it.

Also served with the meal were the Baron 1989 (amazingly full, juicy and lively for a 20-year-old wine); the Lalande 1989 (a deep nose, an even palate of rose and dark fruit, and lots of depth); and a 1990 Baron (too hot, just too much, with extracted fruit and diffuse flavors). A member also contributed a double magnum of a 1975 Lalande. This was fairly good, nice and silky, but a bit tired and not nearly as impressive as the 1985.

The room was well-attended. Any extra table was needed. And talk was excited and non-stop. We must have more showdowns like this in the future.

Your $10 Recession Wine of the Week: Chateau Fantin Grand Vin de Bordeaux 2006

What? A Bordeaux for $10? And one you'd recommend?

That's right. Hard to believe, isn't it? And it's not one of those green, reedy, hyper acidic, no-fruit Bordeaux you usually find at this price point. I found it at Smith & Vine in Brooklyn, and, unsurprisingly, it comes from the great importer Polaner Selections. (And actually, it's $11.)

According to the Polaner website, Château Fantin has been in the Houbaer family since 1890. Jean-Michel Chatelier, the current owner, is the great grandson on the maternal side of the family. The vineyard is "on the steep slopes overlooking the Dordogne river, the vineyard of Château Fantin faces outh-south-east, towards the medieval town of Saint-Emilion. The slopes and soil composition mean that drainage is good and the soil not compact. A good, sunny exposure and the beneficial influence of the Dordogne river ensure that the vines grow and grapes ripen evenly."

Blah, blah, blah. So, it's good. An even mouthful with medium tannins, and light tobacco, red and black cherries, licorice and currents on the palate. Very drinkable. Easy and good. And 13% alcohol.

Polaner—always a good bet. Crazy about their wines. Not so much about their manners. Or organization skills. For the second year in a row they forgot to invite me to their spring tasting, which is one of my favorite tastings of the year. This has set my teeth a-grinding. "Open your mind and taste," says their website. Open up your mailing list and update it, says I.

Lessegue Turns Two

I recently tasted the two offerings of what is only the second vintage (2004) from Chateau Lassegue, the St. Emilion project from Jess Jackson and vigneron Pierre Seillan.

Seillan practices a peculiar method of grape selection at the vineyard, which boasts nine different types of soil. He has divided the estate into what he calls "micro-crus," separating pieces of land by the quality of the ground and the varietals. The image of a patchwork quilt comes to mind. Then he combines the different puzzle pieces into the vineyard two's bottlings—Lassegue and Chateau Vignot—based on how well the various lots complement each other.

Both wines are good, but I was most impressed with what is meant to be the less impressive of the two bottles, the $35 Chateau Vignot, which is a blend of 68% Merlot, 30% Cab Franc and 2% Cab Sauv. There is little aging potential here, but who cares when the stuff is drinking so well right now! Seillan has tamped down the alcohol to an approachable 13.5%—a level which matches well with the easy drinkability of this wine.

The nose has understated notes of current, cherry, roots, chocolate and tar. The medium-bodied juice has soft tannins, and light flavors of current, plum and cherry. The overall effect is perhaps a bit anonymous—this is not a great terroir wine—and it does have a shortish finish, but it is harmonious in flavor and well balanced. I drank one glass after another happily. It's that kind of companionable wine. And $35 for a St. Emilion is not bad at all.

Three 2005 Bordeauxs

When the critics started going nuts for the 2005 Bordeaux vintage, I thought to myself, "Well, that's it. I ain't getting none of that stuff." Sure enough, when the bottles started to arrive in the U.S., they were either snatched up lickety-split or priced well beyond my extremely modest means. Then the monthly mailing from importer Kermit Lynch came through the mail, offering three 2005s at reasonable prices. This is my only chance to get some 2005 in my cellar, I thought. So I bought a mixed case, four of each.

I had to wait out the summer before the case arrived; the distributors didn't want to risk cooking the case. Recently I tried one of each in quick succession; the rest will be put away for a rainy day. Verdict: a good investment, particular the one Haut-Medoc, Chateau Aney.

I didn't know a thing about Aney before drinking this satisfying, understated, medium-bodied Bordeaux. Created in 1850, the Chateau Aney was given "Cru Bourgois" classification in 1932. The 2005, a comfortable 13% alcohol, has a lovely nose of red current, dark cherry, grass, brush and mild tobacco. On the palate, it was well-structured with mild-to-medium tannins, and flavors of cherry, dust, raspberry, rhubarb and more underbrush. I'm sure this is what Lynch thinks a Bordeaux should be. I agree with him.

The other two were a Chateau de Bellevue from St. Emilion and a Chateau Belles-Graves from Pomerol. I liked them less well, but that's my usual bias regarding these often overripe regions. But they're still good wines with potential. The Bellevue is organic and hand-picked and aged in new French oak. It comes in at 13.5% and is inky purple with a deep, dark cherry and plum, spicy nose. It's full-flavored, with the plum joined by blueberries, purple grapes, subtle spice and a tarry bottom.

Belles-Graves is a Lalande de Pomerol. It has a happy, harmonic nose of brush, blackberry, current and dark red fruit. The medium-bodied mouthful has black spice at its center, with fresh and baked red fruit all around it. Some tar, some dill. Not heavy-handed at all (it's only 12.5%).

Can't wait to revisit them in 10 years.

Roll Out the Barrel

So I went to a Bordeaux barrel tasting yesterday, just like Robert Parker and all the toffs at Wine Spectator do all the time. Forgive me for pointing it out, and looking positively green in the process, but I'm still fairly news to the whole wine biz and not invited to such things regularly. I didn't know quite what to expect. I actually thought we might be snaking out juice with wine thiefs from actual barrels—though I couldn't imagine how they'd get such casks into tiny Chanterelle in Tribeca.

Silly me. The wine was in bottles just like at at any other tasting, only the "2007" vintage was scribbled on the label with pen. The group sponsoring the tasting was Cercle Rive Drouite Primeurs, a roundup of right bank Bordeaux producers, so we were drinking new stuff from Pomerol, Saint-Emilion, Fronsac and therabouts. The talk of the vintage is that the weather was variable and extreme, but the season was saved by fine conditions in September and October.

There are more than 100 members of the Cercle, but only a couple dozen were present. Impressive among the Pomerols were Close l'Eglise, which was full, ripe and with big tannins—all the stuff them Pomerol lovers love. The Saint-Emilions included a rich and juicy Chateau La Commanderie: a more medium-bodied, held-back Chateau Boutisse; a very good Chateau Cote de Baleau with very pronounced tannins that spoke of a solid future; a smooth, full Chateau Quinault l'Enclos; a more even, understated Chateau Fleur Cardinale; and a full-fruited, tart Chateau de Pressace. I sensed a lot of alcohol most everywhere.

Elsewhere, the small Chateau Carignan, a Premieres Cotes de Bordeaux, was an interesting quaff. It was darker and rougher that the big-talking smoothies that surrounded it. Very nice and drinkable. Not great, perhaps, but a rewarding everyday wine. The estate was bought by American importer Andy Lench last year. He described Chateau Carignan as "an everyday drinking man's claret." I'd agree.

Bordeaux, at Last

I don't know why I've dragged my ass so in reporting on the big January Bordeaux tasting in New York. I guess it's because there were so many wines and I knew blogging them all would be a chore. Plus, I get so bored, sometimes, with the accepted grandeur of the whole Bordeaux world, that sometimes I'd rather talk about any other kind of wine. But I guess I better do it before my thoughts on the tasting leave my brain forever.

The event was packed, because the 2005 vintage has sparked such interest; invitees were assigned to attend either from 2 to 4 PM or 4 to 6 PM. I didn't realize I was slated to come at 4 PM, and arrived at 2. But nobody hassled me and I glided right in. (Don't worry sticklers: I left around 4 anyway.) I began by tasting my way through a pretty unimpressive aisle of Margaux and started to despair. Was it all going to be like this?

I escaped to Saint-Emilion territory and was revived. Though I agree with a friend at the event, who said he thought the St.-Emilions tends to veer toward a juicier, International style, the bottles sure were an improvement on the watery and bitter Margaux, so I wasn't complaining. Chateau Angelus, Chateau Figeac and a few others pleased plenty. What's fascinating about the area is how the blends vary. Sometimes Merlot is up there at 90 percent, sometimes at 30. Cab Sauv is sometimes knocked out of the mix altogether. I liked Figeac's reasoned approach: one third each of Merlot, Cab Sauv, and Cab Franc, giving the wine a more mature, balanced profile than its brothers.

From there a couple of enthusiastic imbibers directed me to the Pomerols. "You gotta taste the Pomerols!" I was a bit suspicious—everyone likes Pomerols these days—but I went. Merlot, my friends, Merlot. Lots of green notes. Big and full. A creamy Chateau Beauregard, a more austere Chateau Clinet, a one-dimensional Chateau Gazin, but mainly I wasn't really feeling it.

Always open to suggestions, I was then directed to the Saint-Juliens. Now things started to pick up. Chateau Lagrange was rich and silky, Leoville Poyferre has great balance and structure, and Talbot kind of knocked me out. It hit my nose with force. The tannins were intense as were the flavors of dark cherry. A bit much, perhaps, but such much!

Maybe I had drunk my share at this point, but Pauillac tasted even better than Saint-Juliens. Chateau Clerc Milon was very nice, with good balance and good fruit. Very deep. Pichon-Longueville was rough and full and extracted, and Pontet-Canet was fuller still, but more smooth and ripe fruit and green notes.

The most stellar white Bordeaux I tasted was Chateaus De Fieuzal, the deep complexity of which cannot be understated.

Like everyone else, I save the Sauternes for last. And, like everyone else, I didn't leave enough time for them and kinda rushed through. They were all pretty friggin' good. It's hard to lose with this stuff. One that stood out was a Barsac, Chateau Climens, which had a extra spiciness and less honeyed tone that set it a bit apart.

A couple other things. I must compliment the organizers of the event for their scheme of setting up many small round tables in the aisles. This made tasting so much easier. One got one's sample and then, rather than stay rooted to the crowded serving table, retreated to the round neutral stations to sip in peace and think and make one's notes. Bravo! This should be the way at every tasting!

And finally, why must buffoons argue with the pourers about Robert Parker, and his supposed influence over their wines? What do they think they're going change, except the pourer opinion of them? People have got to stop harping about this guy. It's old. It comes off like cranky old Grandpa carping about those damn horseless carriages.