Another in a series of posts from France by Morgan Twain-Peterson.

I am back in Bordeaux, this time stationed at Les Ormes de Pez, the smaller chateau owned by the Cazes. Though I loved living with the other interns at our little villa the village of Bages—the house was like a bad joke or sitcom waiting to happen—a swiss, a belge, an American, and a Mexican walk into a house in France… My new digs are a little classier than before, because god knows that a two hundred year old home lacks luster. I have a bedroom in the actual chateau of Les Ormes de Pez. Now do not get me wrong, it is a little chateau, quite manageable really. Just two stories, a kitchen, dining room, parlor, sun room, tv room, kitchen, patio, and laundry downstairs and some bedrooms upstairs. And of course a cellar filled with old vintages of Lynch-Bages and Pez.

My only roommate is a 19 year old student of tourism that is working as a picker. She actually lives elsewhere in the Medoc and sometimes stays a night when work runs late. Her family is from French Guyana and I can barely understand a word she says. She says she is learning Chinese, I think, so maybe that is what she is speaking to me. She spends most of every night talking on the phone.

On my first night back I practically fell into the arms of the belge and his mistress Isabelle. Being on the road alone is harder here than in Australia. I think it is because I know that home is so close—really only 6 hours flight to New York, I miss Jenn, and wish I could be home to oversee the harvest for Bedrock. French couples, or pseudo-couples, are not reserved about displays of affection, I am getting to the point where the next couple I see making out is going to get a wine-bottle to their respective thorax’. Also, this country spills over with romance, with quaintness and cuteness, with beautiful lighting and dramatic cinematic landscapes. One cannot help but feel a little movie-star like when cruising through Provencal evenings charged with purple light and the smell of wild thyme or pulling over to dive into the blue, blue, waters of the Cote D’Azur. There are roads that demand not to be driven alone.

But I must say it was nice to explore regions other than Bordeaux for a bit—to escape the hegemony of grandeur pervading the Medoc. Perfectly trained vines and perfectly cropped chateaux are great but so are red soils, little stone houses, and medieval goblet shaped grapevines. The perfume and elegance of claret gave way last week to the rough and tumble power of the south—bellum wines—made from bellicose varietals like Mourvedre, Grenache, Syrah, Cinsault, and Carignane.

I drove out of the Medoc in the rain to Pomerol for the afternoon where I lunched with Fiona McLeod Morrison Thienpoint M.W. (I love that name because it is actually longer than mine) and the other Thienpoint’s from Le Vieux Chateau Certan and Le Pin. Jacques Thienpoint gave me a taste of 2005 Le Pin (stunning, god-damn stunning Merlot) and a half-bottle of 1994 Le Pin (I now know what being a father is like pinotblogger – No chance!). For those of you who do not know Le Pin—it is the original garagiste wine, started in 1979. The first wine to turn the embedded order of chateaux on its ear. It uses 100% new oak for the 15 barrels or so of wine made from the 2 hectares of vines. It is plush, round, sexy wine—like cashmere for the tongue. Unfortunately it is also more expensive than cashmere. The 2005 will sell for 500 Euros a bottle, making it among the top three most expensive wines in Bordeaux. Despite this seemingly outrageous price-tag, the setting and feel of the place belied its pricetag. The wine is literally made in the basement of Jacques and Fiona’s home—just a few tanks, a small press, and a rustic gravity fed line to the barrels. Though the group who sat for the standard two hour lunch was cosmopolitan—there were Belge and Brits who came down for the picking, it was also just a lovely two hour lunch with simple food food, good wine, consumed by people with dirt under their fingernails and rouge in their cheeks. Children pranced around and asked loud interrupting questions and people talked in three different languages and ate cheese and then grabbed a bicycle and pedaled back to the vineyard all sated with food and comfort and love. The crop for Merlot this year is going to be of interesting quality..good weather until the first week of September and then, poof, rain and lots of it. The result is fruit that has attained high levels of sugar ripeness but still are phenolically a little tough—I am sure for some of the lesser estates of St. Emilion and Pomerol where crop levels are not watched closely this will mean a tinge of pyrazine-greenness (green bell-pepper) in the palate. I hope to return to Le Pin for a day and taste the fermentations so I will let you know how the best of estates handled the wine.

After lunch I got into the car and powered through, under cloudy and wet skies, until Aix-en-Provence. While passing that lovely city and diving into Provence the stars came out and accompanied the next two hours until I reached Nice. And what is in Nice you might ask? What of oenological significance possibly goes on in that city by the sea? And to that I respond, only the most quickly evaporating AOC in France, the little district of Bellet, of whose wine only 12,000 bottles are produced. Actually, though I was interested by Bellet I was mainly attracted by the specter of meeting my friend from high school Alli Arbuthnot, who is backpacking Europe right now before finishing up school. The wines of Bellet are quite pleasant, albeit far too expensive for what they are. But, unlike the back country of Provence, the land around Nice is worth quite a bit of money to real estate developers these days, so land costs much be higher, and wine costs must be higher to justify their continued production.

After spending a couple of days traveling from Nice, to Cannes, to Saint Tropez, and finally to the most wonderful of all cities, Aix-en-Provence, I was ready to re-engage with wine. Using Aix as my home-base for a few nights I traveled the 45 minutes south to Bandol—where harvest was in full swing. Though Bandol, which lies directly upon the Mediterranean, sounds like another excuse to bask in the climate of the sea, it carries greater personal importance for me. I have always loved the rich, dark, primal wines from this region where Mourvedre reaches its Platonic zenith. The rare combination of moderating ocean influence and hot Provencal sun has created a climate perfect for the ripening of the grape with the longest ripening cycle. Though Bandol is most famous for its rose’ wine, a zesty citrus, strawberry, raspberry fruited wine with mineral and hawthorne that is uncannily long and rich in the palate, I find the reds to be the most interesting. Those of Domaine Tempier, Chateau Pradeaux, Ott’s Chateau Romassan, and Pibarnon, are the reference points (and typically the most easy to find in the United States), but a number of smaller producers are making wines both traditional and reflective of their own mesoclimatic peculiarities within the larger Bandol area.

(trees and vines in Bandol, the sea is over the mountains in the background)

The region is a Y-shaped valley rising from just above the seaside resort-town of Bandol at its base and stretching about 10 kilometers in each direction from its splitting point. The valley walls are made of rather tall, glacially inspired hills with broad shoulders and moderate slopes. Like any other wine region featuring hills and multiple varietals the decision of what to plant where is important. Typically, although by no means the rule, the slower ripening Mourvedre is grown on the south and south west facing parts of the hillsides, while the complimenting grapes, Grenache and Cinsault, are grown on the slightly slower ripening hillsides facing north and north east. Those wines grown on the chalk rich hillsides on the west side of the main valley tend towards greater elegance, while those wines grown in heavier soils tend towards a larger, chunkier, style. Additionally, the white varietals (about 4 percent of Bandol’s production is a funky white wine), of Clairette, Bourbelanc, Picpoul, and Sauvignon Blanc are grown on these cooler slopes. The AOC rules stipulate that 50% of any red wine must be made of Mourvedre, though some cuvees from Tempier and Pradeaux are fully Mourvedre.

Traditional winemaking techniques dominate here. To use even an iota of new oak is controversial. Grapes are picked ripe (normally with about 14% potential alcohol), fermented traditionally using natural yeasts in tanks (some see pigeage, other pumpovers, sometimes a mix of both), and fermentaton and malo are undergone in tank. The wines are aged for up to two years in foudre (large, oval tanks), and then bottled. It is pretty basic winemaking on all accounts, but one must love the rugged honesty of it. The reds take several years to soften up and come around, but they can be wonderfully dark, sauvage wines proffering up a bit of Mediterranean heat on cold winter nights.

For me, it was just exciting to see Mourvedre reach these heights, and also to appreciate that I could never make a wine that tastes like it in California. Though Bedrock (our new vineyard in Sonoma Valley’s banana belt) has two blocks of 120 year old vine Mourvedre, neither the climate nor the current market would allow me to make such a funky, interesting, wine made traditionally which places a priority on flavor elements rather than immediate fruit. That does not mean trying is not an option however.

After Bandol, and a brief drive around of the beautiful, if not particularly important AOC of Cassis, I was back to Aix for a night and then up to the city of popes. Avignon, which sits at the mouth of the Rhone river before it fans out to reach the sea, is the historically religious heart of France. Following the papal split in the 16th century, when the world got not one, but two!! Popes (lucky world), Avignon was the city chosen for the papal palaces. It is now home to a university, a little less than a zillion tourists, and very little parking. It was from Avignon which the pope commanded his new vineyards. If the country wines of Compania were the favorites of the Italian branch of papal authority, the vines planted in Chateauneuf-du-Pape (New house of the Pope), were ordained to be the favorite of the French side. I personally think the French pope got a better deal. Granted, drinking Chateauneuf-du-Pape is about as close as I get to a religious experience.

The region of Chateauneuf stretches out for 3300 hectares (about 8000 acres) around the eponymous city. Here, the grapes bake in an oven of hot sun and stone—the reflected light and absorbed heat of Alpen stones flushed down the Rhone river in the glacial age ripen grapes here to a level considered scandalous in regions such as Bordeaux and Burgundy. To receive AOC status, CDP (Chateaunuef-du-Pape) must reach 12.5 percent minimum alcohol, the highest of any region. In reality, most wines here are between 13.5 and 14 percent with a few top cuvees regularly achieving 16%.

That the vineyards here were established by papal authority is historically interesting, but what is more historically influential today is that the AOC system, outlining qualitative rules for select regions, was begun in CDP in 1923 by Baron Le Roy of Chateau Fortia.

(young vines growing in CDP, note the “galets� or large stone)

Its early AC status may account for the flexibility in its rules. For one, the appellation is the third largest in France (behind Chablis and St. Emilion). For two, thirteen varietals of grape are accepted for use in the red wine (14 if the white clone of Grenache is counted). And, as a reminder that AOC regulations and boundaries are as much a political beast as any other governmentally made decision, those thirteen varietals do now include Carignane, but do include the rather miserable Terret Noir and Muscardin grapes—apparently a shot across the bow of neighboring Lirac and Tavel by Baron Le Roy, who despised the high-cropping grape, as well as the qualitative possibilities of the rose’ made from it. Not surprisingly, there is no AOC for rose CDP, only for white and red wines. The relative quality of the region is additionally kept in check by the maximum yield of 35 h/ha (about 2 tons an acre), which ensures adequate concentration and alcholic strength.

I paid visits to Paul Avril at Clos des Papes, consistently one of my favorite wines from the region—perfumey, spicey, and powerful. To Domaine de la Mordoree, made famous by a certain American wine critic, where they use new oak and extended macerations and get amazing color and high levels of tannin in their wine, and also to Chateau Fortia, the great historical chateau which still possesses the one CDP made with large amounts of Syrah (a wine I have always loved for its easy perfume and accessibility young). In addition, I tasted the interesting oaked whites of Chateau La Nerthe at their grandly edificed castle. CDP ranges from the rustic and powerful to the refined and powerful. These are not wines that are shy about alcohol, but at their best, the heat is balanced out by wonderful white spices, ginger, strawberry and raspberry fruit (that is sometimes almost like kirsch), and integrated tannins. The best example of this that I found was Clos des Papes—a winery I appreciate for its stead refusal to make a “luxury� cuvee while sacrificing the quality of their base wine, as has occurred at Mordoree, Cuvee de Vatican, Pegau, and others.

The next update:

Gigondas, Vacqueyras, and Cote-du-Rhone Village.

Saint-Chinian and Minervois

Bordeaux—Haut-Marbuzet, Beychevelle, Lafite-Rothschild, and the Cabernet harvest.

As you can probably tell by now there are a lot of chateau clustered in the Medoc. Their grand facades, some in better repair than others, are probably the greatest outward manifestation of the high amount of wealth that is concentrated here. Almost all labels of chateau show the picture of the building, and with enough time, the picture of the building is enough to conjure up powerful taste memories. In many cases, these grand edifices lie across the street from each other. When they were originally built people must of thought them the McMansions of their day (take heart in your future Newport Beach!). Perhaps there is no greater example of this then the two Pichon-Longuevilles–Pichon-Lalande and Pichon-Baron. The two grand mansions stare each other down over the D2 road—an apt metaphor, for the competition between the two chateaux, both second-growths, is historic.

Pichon-Lalande (top) and Pichon-Baron (from the driveway of Lalande) further down the page.

The two estates were one until 1850, when half of the estate was sold off to a Rauzan (I do not know for sure, but I would wager at least a toe that it is the same family as Rauzan-Segla and Rauzan-Gassies). The chateau of Pichon-Baron, apparently not fashionable enough, was raised and rebuilt in its current form shortly after. While tasting the two different wines, I could not help but wonder what a combination of the two would taste like.

As I related in an earlier edition of this ongoing write-up of wine nerdery, Pichon-Lalande was long considered the better of the two chateaux. This changed when the insurance company AXA Milliseme purchased the property and placed Jean-Michel Caze, the owner of Lynch-Bages and L’Ormes des Pez, in charge of reinvigorating the property. Starting in 1994, Pichon-Baron’s wines have become increasingly better—and now, according to some critics, outpace even those wines of Pichon-Lalande. I was given the wonderful opportunity to visit both properties on successive days, visit their chaix, and talk in detail about the wine-making methods and philosophies. At the end of this, I feel that Pichon-Lalande and Pichon-Baron compete only in similar name and grandness of chateau; their wines are about as different as Pauillac gets, and as such are testaments to winemaking style and subtle mesoclimatic variation.

There is no way to describe Pichon Comtesse de Lalande as anything other than resplendent, definitely resplendent (and anyone who knows that movie reference gets a cookie and probably needs a therapist). From the foyer, to the tasting room, Pichon-Lalande baths itself in immaculate collections of art, and historical, expensive, vinous frippery. The chateau has been remodeled to allow an amazing amount of light in on the upper floors, and the chaix is immaculate. Unfortunately I was so engaged in conversation with the oenologist of the Comtesse, Stephanie, that I did not want to stop and take pictures. Also, to show the closeness of relations here in Bordeaux, Stephanie’s boyfriend is none other than Gerome, the maitre de chaix of Lynch-Bages. She is also one of the only winemakers in Bordeaux that is female—there is still more than a little sniff of the old boys club here.

When I asked Stephanie what differentiates her wines from those of the chateau across the street she said, “they are more subtle, more perfumed, more classic, and generally more elegant.� Every winemaking decision here, from picking times, to maceration techniques, to barrel selections, is done in an effort to increase the elegance of the wine. Fruit is picked at around 12% for the Cabernet, and 13% for the Merlot. Triage takes place in the field, and the grapes come in already sorted. Crushing and destemming follows and alcoholic fermentation takes place in stainless-steel tanks. Interestingly, Pichon-Lalande uses multiple maceration and pump-over techniques rather than the single remontage employed by the other chateau I have visited. Depending on the needs of the grapes—whether they are reductive or need less air-contact, remontage, pigeage (punching down), drain and returns, or a special non-oxidative method of pump-over is used. The latter features a tube with a small pump that is inserted into the cap, with the top being placed below the cover of CO2 gas that covers the cap of any fermentation. As the motor turns the juice is pumped onto the top of the cap but does not come into contact with oxygen. This way, greater skin contact is allowed than would be the case if no pumpover was employed, but does not expose the must to unwanted air. Quite the interesting alternative I thought. Fermentations here are inoculated here like most other places with, I believe, F33 ad F15 (but she said it quickly and my mind was still processing the previous sentence).

Malo takes place in tank, and the wine is then barreled down into French oak that is typically 50-60% new. The barrel selection is much like other places—being a blend of five different tonnelleries—the only difference is that no Boutes barrels are featured (barrels that form the backbone of Lynch-Bages, Palmer, and Rauzan-Segla). Like everyplace else I have been to, the wines are racked every three months to gradually rid them of their lees over the course of the 16-19 months they are in barrel.

The 2005 Pichon Lalande was indeed elegant. It was hard for me to believe that these grapes come from vineyards that lie next to the trio of Leovilles. The wine is tight, with firm structure and acidity. The fruit is taught, like biting into a fresh strawberry and cherry, with the classic Pauillac tannin (that eventually becomes rather like pencil lead) running full-steam ahead. The tannins are polished however, not as course as those found in a vintage like 2003 or 2004. As I tasted I thought that the wine was more Pichon-Lalande than 2005. It did not seem as muscular as the other 2005 Pauillac’s that I have tasted. I have a sneaking suspicion though that this is pretty typical for Pichon-Lalande. Indeed, they have achieved the elegance for which they strive—I just wonder if this wine has the power to go for as long as some others.

The Pichon-Barons, made by Daniel Llose, who is also the oenologist at the Cazes properties, is about as different in style as one can get. After touring the beautifully remodeled chaix, which emphasizes fruit selection and gravity flow techniques, I tasted the 2003, 2004, and 2005 Pichon Baron. Each was quite good in their own way—a reminder that three strong vintages in a row will be salvation for a vintage this year that seems to be getting more tenuous with each successive rainstorm (there have been four now). Pichon-Baron is the first place I have been to where part of the malolactic fermentation takes place in barrel (for 2005 the number was 30%). In contrast to Pichon-Lalande where such a technique is avoided for its tendency to soften and fatten wines, to make wines that are “too modern� Pichon-Baron is actively pursuing such a flavor profile.

(the tank-room at Pichon-Baron, the three squares in the floor are trapdoors that Daniel Llose can open under bad cellar workers. The light above is simply called “HIM�)

The results are quite impressive. The suavity of fruit makes for a wine that is quite approachable young. The wines, particularly the 2005, seem to have the stuffing to last like a good Bordeaux should. That said, only time will tell if the initial babyfat sought for these wines by the winemaking team will render them less able to age gracefully.

Since I was able to taste through three successive vintages of Pichon Baron it is probably an apt time to discuss the types of years that have been encountered in the Medoc in the past. It is also apt because I think the three Pichon Baron’s that I had the privilege to taste were quite reflective of the vintages as a whole.

2003: This vintage has received rave reviews from the American and British press, but particularly Robert Parker and Wine Spectator. Every winemaker with whom I have spoken, from Nicolas Labenne here at Lynch Bages to Philippe Delfeur at Ch. Palmer said that the 2003’s are very good wines that are completely atypical of the region. It is a vintage for the California Cabernet drinker that wants to branch out into the slightly scarier world of French wines. I have found that the wines tend to have a grille’ quality about them, meaning the fruit tastes more like liquor and confiture of fruit than anything else. I have not tasted a wine yet that possesses the delicate balance achieved by a truly great vintage. Rather, these wines will, for the most part, be best consumed 2-15 years from now and savored for rich fruit. My beef with some examples of the 2003 vintage that I had is the same beef I have with many wines from the southern Rhone from this hot year. I find that the tannins do not seem ripe or plush, rather they are quite gritty and a little raw—right now this is, for the most part in most wines, covered by the enamel of sweet fruit but as time erodes this layer I am not sure what the wines are going to look like.

2004: This is, as far as I can tell, a vintage to buy. It is going to be historically eclipsed by the irregular 2003’s and the amazing 2005’s, but the wines have great depth and elegance. If 2001 produced “classic� wines of good breeding, these are one step up in density and intensity. It is also quite nice that the “en primeur� price (futures) of these wines are about 2/3rds to 1/2 of the wines from 2005 (one can never fault the bordelaise for not trying to turn a profit). An example of this comes from the winemaker of Pichon-Lalande, who told me that the 2004 is most like the 2005, just a little bit less intense. I have been particularly pleased with the Haut-Marbuzet and Tronquay Lalande—two estates in St. Estephe—for this vintage.

2005: These wines are just amazing. They are dense and rich but have amazing stuffing to them. The balance is impeccable and rich—these are Bentley Bordeaux’s. All of the wines are quite expressive of where they come from, and the terroir seems to be more focused in this vintage. This is in contrast to the 2003’s where the many that I have tasted make me go “oh, this is good wine, but I have no idea where this came from.�

Alright, next time it is the grandpapa of all Pauillac. My grandfather’s favorite wine, and certainly one of those that I love (if only I could afford it), Chateau Latour!
(the view of Latour from the deck of Pichon-Lalande.

St. Julien is home to the highest proportion of classed growths of the four major communes of the Medoc. It is also the smallest of the communes. Located just south of Pauillac, the vineyards of the “Leoville� wines, those of Ch. Leoville-Las-Cases in this case, begin where those of Ch. Latour and Pichon-Lalande end. It is one of the reasons why Las-Cases in good years can out-price even first-growths. The “Leoville� wines, made up of Leoville-Las-Cases, Leoville-Poyferre, and Leoville-Barton, were at one time all part of the same vineyard. It was in 1823 that, due to financial difficulty, the vineyards were sold off. The Irish merchant Barton purchased a 50 ha lot, and then later purchased a 15 ha lot which is not Langoa-Barton. Though the wines have different labels, both are made in the cellars of Leoville-Barton. The current owner, Anthony Barton, who is 73 still resides in the chateau above the chaix (cellars). The grounds at the chateau are absolutely immaculate, and feature gardens combining both French and English floral traditionalism (meaning French hedges and roses, and English lawns where one can putt a golf ball—not to mention some cranky swans).

Compared to Ch. Palmer, Rauzan-Segla, and Lynch-Bages, the winemaking here is a bit more “classic.� The triage trays that are so prominently featured at other chateau are not found here. Nor is stainless steel. Oak tanks, which proudly go back thirty years, stand in their full, impractical glory. These tanks do not have racking valves, they have old wooden doors at least four feet up from the base of the tank, and use about 1.5 inch valves. Specially constructed cooling and heating plates are placed vertically inside the cuves. The wines spend about two weeks in tank while undergoing initial alcoholic fermentation and a few days of post-fermentation maceration. They undergo malolactic in tank, and are then barreled down. Both Langoa and Leoville Barton use only one cooper, Maury, for their barrels (70% new), something which certainly is not par for he course these days in Bordeaux.

The 2005’s reassuringly fit the stereotype for the wines. The Langoa-Barton, from grapes a little further inland from the river and typically possessing courser tannins, was exactly like it would typically is, just more so. The fruit seemed tight, while the intense tannins mated with the phenolic wood tones to create a dry, rather tough wine. I am sure the profile will change in a few years, but this seemed more youthfully awkward than its big brother.

The 2005 Leoville Barton, though also a bit like a Great Dane puppy in that it is all big paws and awkwardness, retained more suaveness. And if this is a Dane puppy it certainly is a Brindle Dane while the Langoa Barton was merely a Harlequin; its kaleidoscope of flavors seems to be created from a palate with more colors, shadings, tones, and depths. It has the muscle of riverside St. Julien but also, deeply buried in its youth, the kernels of suaveness and perfume that will manifest through the years to come. It is a beautiful wine.

Upon my return to Lynch-Bages I tasted through the white fermentations. Half of the whites are going into barrel for fermentation while other are going to percolate away en cuve. Then, it was to the intermarche to stock up food for the next few days. I love France, where fresh quail and foie gras cost less than steak or a good cut of pork. For dinner I prepared grilled quail stuffed with shallots, brioche, and foie gras and wrapped in prosciutto, grilled peaches, and a bed of lambs lettuce. Along with that, the swiss, belge, and I, polished off an exuberant 2003 Alter-Ego de Chateau Palmer. Absolutely delicious, and about 8 euros per person. In other words, I completely worked off any benefit my afternoon run may have offered. When in France…..run a lot.

Another in the Morgan Does Bordeaux series.

When I woke up early on Tuesday morning, after the storms had knocked out the power and the alarm, I had a wave of fear run through me. Was I going to be too late for my appointment to Chateau Palmer? Luckily, I heard Antoine stirring in the kitchen, meaning that it had to be before 8 o’clock. My appointment was for 10 o’clock in Margaux. Nonetheless, I was a little stressed out for some reason.

(the square at Lynch-Bages after a rainy night)

While leaving I received a call from Antoine wondering if I could drive to Graves, south of Bordeaux, to pick up some samples for analysis from the company oenologist, Daniel Llose, at Villa Bel-Air. Of course, I began my drive as I was talking on the phone, something I did not consider to be a major problem. This, however, was not the view taking by the policeman who pulled me over and fleeced me of 22 euros for talking on the phone while driving. I wish I could send him to southern California. The day was off to a brilliant start.

The remainder of the drive to Margaux I had to pull over to the side of the road twice while receiving calls from Nicolas and Antoine again. The second time I nearly parked the Citroen in a ditch. Happily, I made it safely into the driveway of Chateau Palmer with five minutes to spare.

Chateau Palmer is one of the chateau that deserve first growth status. At the least, it is a “super-second;� it is certainly well above its third growth demarcation. The current ownership is composed of people from three nationalities, and three flags fly high over the turrets and towers of the bucolic castle. Going into the visit I knew these three things. 1) the few Chateau Palmer’s I had in my life were absolutely stellar, 2) the chateau has a reputation for being the most Margaux-like of the Margaux chateau, and 3) the wines tends to be plusher and more finessed than others because of the high percentage of Merlot in the wines.

I certainly did not know that I would be shown around by the director of the chateau, Philippe Delfaut. An energetic man, M. Delfaut is clearly keen on preserving the historical legacy of Palmer while also keeping the estate relevant to modern tasters. In the incredibly generous hour and a half that he spent with me we went through all facets of the fermentation process and tasted a few wines to boot.

Like Ch. Rauzan-Segla yesterday, the chateau takes every step to ensure quality. Unlike Rauzan-Segla, atleast the 1998 and 2001 I tried, one can truly taste the results.
The fruit is brought into the vineyard in 8 kg bins. Each is poured onto an initial triage tray where leaves, unripe clusters, and pourriture are taking out. The fruit is then destemmed onto another, slightly lower triage tray, where the individual berries undergo an additional triage to ensure ideal fruit. From there the berries are put through a gentle, rubber crusher that breaks down the fruit a little bit more. After each parcel is finished, the hoses are cleared with compressed air.

Fermentation and maceration takes place in small, double-decker stainless steel cuves (French for tank). The tanks are actually larger tanks that have been converted into two small, stacked fermenters. As Philippe pointed out, the estate harvest 60 different parcels, so having 50 different small tanks allows them to vinify each lot separately. During the alcoholic fermentation, which takes place in about 10 days, gentle (I believe by this he means short) remontage (pumpovers) are done three times a day. On a digression here, but for the benefit of the Ravenswood winemaking team, punching down, or pigeage, is considered to be too harsh and extractive, though their pigeage is typically automated with two punches working in a circular motion. Philippe made sure to emphasize that the temperatures for the fermentations are kept at a “relatively cool� 28-30 degrees C. Post-fermentation maceration is relatively short here—only about nine days on the skins for the Merlot and 9-12 for the Cabernet.

The wines are pressed using either a typical Diemme bladder press, or a modern style, computer controlled basket press. Philippe finds that the basket press limits the extraction of harsh phenolics, while he finds the bladder presses turning motion lends itself to bitter tannin extraction. Whether this is actually true I do not know—both types of presses can be set to less or more extractive modes. Some of the most bitter juice I had while in Australia were the last pressings of a modern basket-press. In any case, his argument about avoiding bitterness and tannin corresponded with the philosophy of vinification here that he repeated several times. Palmer, he says, is more about elegance and aromatics than tannic power. I believe that the same can be said about Margaux more generally.

This philosophy also plays out in oak selection and use. In the strongest, most powerful years, Palmer uses 60% new oak. In lesser years it ranges from 40-50%. In my experience, this number is quite low for classed growths of this caliber. Lynch-Bages uses 70%, Mouton, Lafite, and Latour are generally 100% new. Of course, the muscular style of Pauillac can perhaps support this much oak more adeptly than a Margaux. The cooperage selection is typical. The majority of the oak is medium toast Boutes and Nadalier, with some Radoux, Seguin-Moreou, and the Bordeaux cooperage of World Coop thrown in. The barrels from the latter cooper, whose name I cannot remember right now, are actually toasted to the standards for white Burgundy and are constructed of Nevers forest wood (typically tighter grain than Troncois, Vosges, or Limousin). Stephan says he loves these barrels for their addition of aromatic brightness compared to some others, like Radoux, which have toastier and more tannic profiles.

While sitting in the first year barrel storage we also talked about the role of technology. Unlike some traditional cellars, Palmer uses silicone bungs rather than the cloth wrapped wood bungs. Philippe sites their sanitary qualities, the ease of sampling, and the ease of additions when the barrels are actually upright and have a silicone bung. I also asked him about micro-ox. Whereas at Rauzan Segla, where the guide told me that no micro-ox was used as I stared at micro-ox lines, Philippe says that he thinks microburballage (essentially micro-ox in barrel) is something that he would use in the case of hard, green lots that need a little plushing up. He added to this though that recent years had been so warm that there was really no need for its use. Like other directors of great chateau, Philippe makes sure to point out that great growths lie on privileged sites that allow ripeness and great depth of flavor even in vintages where other chateau struggle.

The two wines of Palmer—the namesake wine and Alter-Ego de Palmer—are made in slightly different fashions. Philippe points out that he does not compare Alter-Ego to a proper “second wine� in the fashion of Carruades de Lafite, or Les Forts de Latour. Rather, Alter Ego is fashioned to be a more modern wine—more initially explosive with fruit, featuring less oak, to be enjoyed more quickly. The parcels for each are selected in the vineyard based on flavor and phenolic profile, and then vinified differently to yield different levels of extraction and freshness of fruit. Whereas Palmer sees 21 months in barrel, Alter-Ego sees 18 months at 25-30% new. I am sure that if I talked to the directors of Margaux, Lafite, Mouton, or Lynch-Bages they would all say the same thing about their second wine—that it is meant for a different purpose. I think the main difference at Palmer is that the lots are actually vinified differently based on vineyard for the second wine, while other chateau’s second wine is typically composed of an amalgam of lots that simply were not good enough to make the premier cuvee.
After walking through the remainder of the grand cellars, talking about the number of employees (there are only five full-time employees in the cellar and 20 in the 50 ha of vineyards), we got to the tasting.

We started off with the elegant, classic 2001 vintage. Like other 2001’s I have tasted, the wine was beautifully balance, with classic Margaux violet, cassis, and mint. Though well-structured, the wine was a midweight knockout—a Sugar Ray Leonard wine. I have found this to be the case with most of the 2001’s that I have tried. They are “classic� claret, well-balanced and demanding a few years of cellar-time, but not epic wines. In some ways, I prefer this type of vintage because the wines seem less excessive and more rooted in place. That said, I will now wax poetic about the massive and wonderful 2005’s.

The Alter Ego of 2005 has explosive cassis, strawberry, tobacco, and minerals (like cendre, carbon cinders, says Philippe). It is as close to a fruit bomb as Medoc gets but is delicious, with great persistence, despite its more modern profile.

As great as the Alter-Ego was (and for the price is probably the better deal), the 2005 Palmer simply swept me off of my feet. Way too young right now, the wine still features a wave of really sweet, sumptuous fruit that is balanced perfectly against fine tannincs and incredibly acidity. The pH for the wine is 3.74, with 3.4 g/l of acidity sulfuric. The wine, the first to break 13% at Palmer since the 1995 is a whopping 14.3% alcohol. I believe that old-school Bordeaux drinkers may fine this wine a bit too alcoholic, but as one who is used to bracing against the force of California sunshine, the wine seemed fine to me.

All in all, an amazing visit, that featured the best young wines that I have tasted so far in my travels across this broad gravel bed.

Another in a series of Morgan’s dispatches from Bordeaux. Look for part two of yesterday’s post on Wine Sediments later this week.

This morning I awoke to a heavy gloom. Thunderheads bumped shoulders in the distance, darkening the Medoc from Margaux to Pauillac. Deciding to be optimistic I left the skylight to my room open and left to start taking maturity samples of Merlot parcels from vineyards on the southern edge of Pauillac. The swiss, belge, and I had finished one parcel when the sky opened up and it began to let down rain. The precipitation seemed angry to me, but I will always be sensitive to such things when there are so many grapes still on the vine. We took cover inside of the van and waited for the rain the stop. Since it did not stop we went back to the chateau to start testing the lot that we had. It did not stop raining until I had returned to the pond that was now my room and was desperately looking for a stick with which to jam close the open skylight. As it creaked closed, the first rays of sun came out. I saturated two towels with the water on my floor and then went to the laboratory.

The good news is that the Merlot from that one parcel is essentially ready to go. Its has 13.75% potential alcohol and great color. I am a bit disconcerted by some seriously bitter tannin on the finish however. It is not the green bitterness of under-ripe seeds that normally have a dose of pyrazine (bell-pepper) with a varietal like Merlot or Cab, rather, these tannins were like roasted bitter. Like gall. How these end up in the fermenter will be interesting to me since the juice had macerated for a grand total of five minutes when I tasted it. The sulfuric acid as at 3.7, which Nicolas says is in the range that he is looking for.

Since maturity sampling was a lost cause for the day I spend the remainder of the morning watching the last of the Semillon coming in, tasting the first ferments for the Muscadelle crushed last week starting to take place, and wrote some emails to other producers. At quarter until two I left for the town of Margaux.

Margaux, which is about a half-hour south of Pauillac, is as equally famous on Paulliac. Those who own the belle of Margaux, the first growth Chateau Margaux, claim it to be the most famous wine in the world. Though I find this statement suspect, it is certainly true that the wines of Margaux, either from Ch. Margaux or some of the others, are at their oenophilic heights the best in the world. The soils of Margaux are generally the thinnest of the four famous communes, with high proportions of sand and gravel. Just like the more northerly communes of St. Julien, Pauillac, and Saint Estephe, those properties closer to the river tend to have soils that drain easily and have greater depth—a formula for high quality wine production. The drainability of the soil is one of the regions why wines from Margaux tend to be better in years with higher percentages of moisture. That this rather sweeping statement can be made is impressive (and it is not just me that says it), and it is particularly impressive given the size and diversity of the Margaux commune. Most of the great wines are clustered tightly around the city of Margaux, though a good deal of others spread south around the cities of Cantenac and Labarde (where Ch. Margaux has extensive vineyard holdings) and then southwest to the area called Arsac.

My visit for the afternoon was to Ch. Rauzan-Segla, a second growth wine located just inland from Ch. Palmer. Though the chateau has a storied past, the quality had become rather low until Chanel (yes the perfume company) purchased the estate in 1994. The raw materials and clearly there for the creation of fine wine—a huge amount of investment has been made in the cellar and the vineyard, with several lots of vineyard being replanted to varietals better adapted to soil type.

(Merlot vine, note the sandy, brown soils without obvious stones typical of Margaux)

My tour began with a look at the vineyards. Like most chateau in Margaux, Rauzan Segla uses a higher percentage of Merlot than other places in the Medoc. Closer to 25% in most vintages. Merlot here typically adds a plushness of character and the quality of fresh strawberries when young. With age, its suavity and grace can be an integral element in what Hugh Johnson calls “the haunting perfume� of Margaux. The clusters, which typically number 6-8 per vine here, are a little less conical and denser than Cabernet, the berries a little larger, and the average ripeness at picking a little higher.

Part of the investment at Rauzan Segla has been the purchase of double tiered triage trays. The clusters are sorted, and following destemming, the berries are picked over to ensure adequate ripeness. The fruit is than crushed and allowed to flow via gravity into a number of stainless-steel, temperature controlled tanks. Innoculation with yeast takes place immediately, the fermentation takes about a week, and the wine is quickly pressed. Like most other chateau, malolactic fermentation takes place in tank, where the temperature can be more readily adjusted to mediate the feedings of the yeasties (not a technical term).

(Two-tiered triage tables, which during harvest have 30 people working them)

Rauzan uses about 70% new barrels from six different tonnelleries, and recycles their barrels exclusively “in-house� (meaning the one-year old barrels are used for the second wine. Since the guide made sure to point this out it makes me believe that the chateau may have been encountering difficulties with brettanomyces, which is sometimes brought in from other chateau by purchased barrels. (Since I have not used the term before, brettanomyces, or “bret� for short, is a spoilage yeast whose major emissions are the chemicals 4-ethylphenol and 4-ethyguiocal. These chemicals manifest in a “barnyard� smell in a wine, and are essentially the same scents associated with chicken shit. Though in small amounts they are not bad and can even add to a wines character. Ch. Beaucastel and Rayas from Chateauneuf-de-Pape, for instance, are famous for smelling of “complexing� bret. The major problem is that it is almost impossible to control the growth of bret once it is in the bottle and it can often overwhelm all other aromatic elements and leach the fruit from a wine. This is not to say that some people do not like this, as classic Belgium beers such as Leffe are actually inoculated with a bret strain to produce the beers distinctive taste. In Bordeaux, bret has historically been quite common but efforts have been made to curb some of the most egregious cases. The famous saying was that bret was the “gout de terroir� or “taste of the earth,� while in reality it smelled like chicken shit. Alright, enough of this digression.)

Like all estates I visit I have asked about the use of modern methods of winemaking, including must-concentration and micro-oxygenation. The tour guide told me that absolutely no micro-ox is used at Rauzan-Segla. That was very sweet of her, but clearly she normally does not tour with a person who has worked in a cellar before. Not only were there lines in place, but the cellar had built special small tanks for individual small parcels to which the lines were linked. It actually looked like a pretty state of the art system and I wish I could have asked more questions about when and to what lots they use the bubbles, to what degree, etc.. I will perhaps get answers to these questions from another producer.

(no micro-ox?)

In any case, after spending 18 months in barrel, the wines of Rauzan-Segla are bottled. The 2001 I tasted was pretty thoroughly unimpressive. From an acknowledged classic vintage, meaning one that created well balanced, elegant wines more typical for the region than those of the monstrous 2000 and 2003 vintages (those preferred by certain critics we all know), the wine was distinctly lacking in the middle. Unlike some wines that are simply closed-up because of youth, where one can feel the density and stuffing of a wine though the actual flavors are inaccessible, this just seemed rather thin and acidic with tannins too tough for the red fruits. This lack of fruit could also have been a result of the “gout de terroir.� The wine had bret, not seriously but enough to think it was exercising a deleterious effect on the remainder of the wine. Though some of the floral qualities of Margaux were present the wine just seem too finessed for its own good. I was reminded of two sayings from producers from Pomeral and St. Emilion. Christian Mouiex, the proprietor of Ch. Petrus is known for saying that Bordeaux should be all about finesse and delicacy. Jean-Luc Thunevin, the proprietor of Valandraud, says that trying to create finesse makes wine that ends up being not finessed at all. For the 2001 Rauzan-Segla, I wish a little bit more of M. Thunevin’s philosophy had been injected into the wine.

All in all an interesting and educational visit at a gorgeous chateau, but I am sure better wines will be found elsewhere. Until next time!

The 1855 Classification of Margaux

1s Growths
Chateau Margaux

Second Growths
Chateau Brane Cantenac
Chateau Durfort Vivens
Chateau Lascombes
Chateau Rauzan Segla
Chateau Rauzan Gassies

Third Growths
Chateau Boyd Cantenac
Chateau Cantenac Brown
Chateau Desmirail
Chateau Ferriere
Chateau Giscours
Chateau D’Issan
Chateau Kirwan
Chateau Malescot St-Exupery
Chateau Marquis d’Alesme-Becker
Chateau Palmer

Fourth Growths
Chateau Marquis-de-Terme
Chateau Pouget
Chateau Prieure-Lichine

Fifth Growths
Chateau Dauzac
Chateau du Tertre

I received a great email from Morgan yesterday with this article attached and had to share it. Morgan is currently over in France right now working harvest at Chateau Lynch Bages in Bordeaux.

It’s a long article, so I’ve split it up in to a couple posts. I’ll publish the second part over at Wine Sediments later this week. Enjoy.

BY MORGAN TWAIN-PETERSON

Perhaps the first thing that strikes you about the Medoc, and Bordeaux generally, is how flat it is. Though gradual slopes and hills are found in the smaller right-bank appellations, most notably St. Emilion and Pomerol, the vast majority of the region is quite flat. Considering the cult of hillside that exists in most of the world’s great wine regions it seems counter-intuitive that some of worlds most expensive and best wines come from these soils. The region is also enormous. After driving through the grand crus of Burgundy, the crus of Beaujolais, and Cote-Rotie and Condrieu, regions where if you blink too fast you have passed the small plot of sacred soil for which you search, the sheer vastness of Bordeaux is somewhat overwhelming. The city of Bordeaux itself is enormous, one of the largest in France. Without traffic it takes easily an hour and a half to travel from Pauillac on the left bank of the Gironde to St. Emilion and Pomerol. Sauternes and Barsac, to the south are equally distant. In contrast to Burgundy, where the great vineyards are crowded onto the broad faces of a few select slopes blessed with escarpments of marlstone and limestone scree, all within a couple of miles from each other, it is seemingly a marvel that Bordeaux’s great Chateau possess such similar character despite being so geographically distant from each other. Though the difference between a Cabernet dominated wine from Pessac-Leognan and a Merlot dominated cuvee of Pomerol are clear, they both still possess a quality of elegance and power that make them clearly Bordeaux.

Though I choose to focus here on the great Chateau of Bordeaux, it is important to remember what a huge amount of wine comes from the region. The massive Entre-Deux-Mers and its surrounding regions produce millions of cases of basic Bordeaux AOC wines of red, white, and rose coloring (though red outnumbers white 6 to 1) The total production was 6.5 million hectoliters of wine (65 million liters) as recently as 1998 (the number is essentially the same today). A 12 bottle case of wine is 9 liters. It is a sh*@load of wine. As such, its economic impact on the wine industry and France’s general economy is important.

Historically, Bordeaux is quite different from other regions of France. In no French wine region is the influence of outside countries more keenly felt. The historical contributions of the English and the Dutch cannot be discounted when one drives through contemporary Bordeaux. In the Medoc, the strip of land that lies between the Gironde River and the Atlantic Ocean, the influence of outside control are felt most keenly. When France was still divided into separate kingdoms throughout the 15th and 16th century, much of its business was based on exports to the British Empire. The relationship between the rulers of Bordeaux and England were rocky however, as prone to the vicissitudes of monarchical diplomacy and warmongering as any during the pre-Westphalian period. The wines most sought after by the British were those actually grown much farther inland from todays current viticultural area. The “black wine� of Cahors, far inland on the banks of the river Lot, was considered of highest quality, while the Medoc could not even support vine growth.

This changed however in the 18th century when the hearts of the British and Bordelaise hardened against each other. The British began sourcing their wines from Spain, and the merchants of Bordeaux turned to the Dutch to help them maintain their economic viability. The new love felt by the Dutch and their dykes led to the massive project of draining the marshland between the Gironde River and the Atlantic Ocean. This is the Medoc as we know it now. As the British-France relationship became better British merchants came back to Bordeaux. The entire area of Lynch in Pauillac is named for the powerful Irish wine-merchant Robert Lynch, and the name still adorns the label of some of the great wines of the commune. I am staying at the best of them, Chateau Lynch-Bages, but there is also Lynch-Moussas.

The draining of the Medoc resulted in land that resembles a riverbed. The soil is quite flat, with only slight slopes. The gentle mounds of sandy alluvial gravel deposited by ancient glaciers that created the Pyrenees and Massif Central of France are just about perfect for the production of great wine production. It is here that the paradox of poor soils making good wines reaches one of its pinnacles. The rocky and sandy soil found along the western edge of the Medoc, most of it within view of the river itself, are relatively deep (up to 10 meters in some places) and drain of moisture quickly. Vines are forced to dig their roots deep into the soil to find enough moisture and nutrients to survive. The result is lower crops with greater concentration of flavor. This is not to say that all soil is created equal in the Haut-Medoc, home to the famous communes of St. Estephe, Pauillac, St. Julien, and Margaux. The appearance of the topsoil changes within a few feet in some places. And it is this difference which separates the highest quality chateau, those which these are charging up to $500 a bottle for their wine, from those that can be appreciated by a wider segment of society.

(classic river gravel and sand, at Ch. Lynch Bages)

It is also the reason why wines are relatively easy to identify. Each commune has set characteristics. The northernmost St. Estephe, situated closer to the mouth of Gironde and recipient of less gravel during the good old glacier age, has a slightly higher percentage of clay in its soil, has slightly steepr and longer slopes, and slightly lower temperatures. The heavier soils make for slower ripening and the resulting wines tend to possess pretty perfume but have courser tannin than their southern brethren.

(soil at Chateau Montrose in Saint-Estephe, note greater clay content)

Pauillac, a few kilometers south, is home to a diverse set of absolutely fantastic wines. Lafite-Rothschild and Mouton-Rothschild, though located next to each other, have completely different character—again a result of aspect and soil type—while the third great wine of Pauillac, Latour, possesses an entirely different flavor profile again. Mouton is the sexpot of the bunch, plush and smooth. Latour, is the opposite. It is a savage, biting, dirty-mouthed lover that takes years to soften out. The last bottle I had was a 1989 on my birthday and it was still a youthfully brash wine, though fully in possession of the currant, cedar and mineral typical of Pauillac. It is Latour that probably best exemplifies the “iron fist in a velvet glove� metaphor used to describe great Pauillac claret.

After the three first growths, Pauillac boasts a double handful of great estates. The classification system of 1855, which placed the best estates in five classes, was kind to Pauillac. It was also kinder to some chateau than others. Outside of the three first growths, it is probably most important to know which chateaus were classed rather than how they were classed over a century and a half ago. Two second-growths, Chateau Pichon Longueville Comtess de Lalande and Chateau Pichon Longueville au Baron de Pichon-Longueville best exemplify how the original rating system has been prone to inaccuracy. For years, Pichon Lalande outperformed Pichon Baron (the estates face each other across the D2 road) fetching higher prices and generally enjoying a reputation of superior consistency and quality. After the insurance company AXA took over Pichon Baron in the early 1990’s and implemented a massive redevelopment of the estate under the leadership of Chateau Lynch-Bages’ Jean-Michel Caze, the wines are now in parity with each other and each deserves its second growth status. Another wine now considered a “super-second� growth is Lynch-Bages itself, which was originally classified as a fifth growth, and is probably the most beautifully perfumed wine of Pauillac. I attest to this after racking barrels of the 2005 today and being absolutely bamboozled by the aromatics of this years wine, from what is looking to be an exceptional year in Bordeaux.

Seriously, I was eshmazzled, undone, I wanted to sink my face into the racking pan and confront my mortality. In a qualitatively different direction, Pontet-Canet, which lies next to Mouton and the great Ch. D’Armailhac, has seemingly consistently under-achieved for all of its years. The moral being that the 1855 classification should probably be used only as a general signpost of quality; too much depends on the philosophy of the owner, soils, and the vicissitiudes of individual taste to use it as an absolute guide.

Part 2 will be posted over at Wine Sediments later this week.