Wine musings (3) - Bordeaux and Arabian Spring

When I first got interested in wine, I eagerly read about a then golden rule: don’t judge a vintage until it has had 4-5 years to show itself. The Ol’ Brits invented it, and their trade did pretty well going by it too. Then.

With the 2010 en primeur circus revving up in Bordeaux at this very moment, you get some idea of how much the World has changed meanwhile. Earlier this week, I quoted a fellow tweeter who made a great joke on James Suckling, saying he was proposing to taste the 2011 vintage from the vine, in August.

Ridiculous as this may seem, it’s a smaller step from current en primeur tasting than from the Ol’ Brits’ golden rule. Have you ever tasted very young Bordeaux from cask? I have, and let me tell you that it’s one of the toughest wine tasting jobs imaginanable.
True, the Bordelais are trying hard to make things easier. They also do it with an agenda of their own. Stuff like performing malolactic on new barrels may be lauded for its merit to the wines, there’s as good a case for stating that making the wines show as ‘awesome’ as possible when they need to fetch high scores was equally as important a drive towards this ‘innovation’.

How this can be overdone, was shown a couple of years ago, when prestigious restaurants started complaining about some ‘garage Bordeaux’ not quite making it to the predicted 30 years of evolution, but already tailing off before they had even reached their projected stage of drinkability.
Little of this was reported by those who are currently in the rat race of being the first to publish. Obviously. They´d be shooting their own pigeons, as the Dutch saying goes. It would demonstrate the phallacy of very early evaluations of wines meant to age.

Being a Burgundy lover, I remember an interesting case of this. It was the times when the 1996 white burgundies were unanimously raved. Around that time, I was tasting the 1997´s with Dominique Lafon in Meursault, and of course we got to talk about the 1996’s too. He then confided me in saying the World would be surprised in ten years, finding the – practically written off – 1997 vintage to be much better than 1996.
By now, we know the man had a point. I’m happy he had too, because 1997 was my wedding year and I can still occasionally be seen with a big smile whenever I open one of them.

Bordeaux 2001 then maybe? It received an almost universal ‘to be skipped’ in the international press. While I watch impressive tannins of the lauded 2000’s starting to shine through more and more, I am meanwhile enjoying the superb claret drink the 2001’s provide. It reminds me too of the much older but seemingly similar case of 1975 versus 1976. That was in the very early days of my wine addiction, and the 1975’s were then considered to be the vintage of the century: bursting with fruit, even when fiercely tannic.
I was then kicking myself for being too late to buy as many 1975’s as I’d really wanted and reluctantly settling for the 1976’s, then considered to be a merely fair vintage. After a couple of years, the 1975’s closed down, while the 1976’s remained a pleasant drink throughout their evolution. And you know what? Loads of 1975’s never made it back from their closed stage. While their once so lush fruit faded, the tannins just would never resolve. Meanwhile, 1975 has become silently forgotten, a few survivors excluded.

And then today, I read a ‘tannin alert’ on Jancis Robinson’s website.  I will of course await the individual verdicts, but I am already cautious.
First – and in general - because Bordeaux’ greatest vintage is usually the one that happens to be on sale, second because 15% alcohol and fierce tannins are not the headlines that make me want to run for my en primeur reservations.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not writing off 2010, I’m just saying it’s too early to tell. I’m also saying that – especially with tannic vintages – it may take a few years before anyone can really tell, no matter how many you’ve tasted en primeur. I’m inclined to think the golden rule still applies in vintages of this kind, even when none are ever really the same.
And for anyone who appreciates a truly in depth analysis of the latter: never miss out on Bill Blatch. Lesser known his name may be in comparison to the ones making the headlines now, this man is the REAL authority of Bordeaux. Under this link you can read what he has to say.

Apart from that, there’s going to be a stylistic argument in the 2010’s for me, so this part is highly individual. More and more, I’m discovering that it’s the so called smaller vintages with the real Bordeaux typicity that actually make me smile when I’m drinking them, which is what the essence of a consumer’s perspective eventually comes down to. Incidentally that means I’m running less and less for my en primeur reservations too. Since ‘written off’ vintages have a pleasant tendency to remain at a fair price level, there’s little use in having your money in futures.

So, while I do eagerly follow the en primeur circus from a business point of view, I’m having more and more doubts wether any of this is to the consumer’s benefit. With the market attracting more and more demand and with supplies necessarily remaining at the same levels, the en primeur circus appears to have become the guide by which the World of wine speculation takes its positions. And a worryingly increasing part of wine journalism is eagerly obliging, and becoming ever more naughty in being the first to oblige.

This year’s 'winner'? James Suckling: while you’re reading this he is already tweeting the announcement of his results, being ferociously retweeted in the process. Where are the results? On his subscription pages, that were recently made independent of the Wine Spectator imperium. Hear the $$ sounds?
Don’t get me wrong: he´s likely making good money with it, and I tend to admire most people who succeed in that. But it’s a smart idea for one year. Standing on your toes in a crowd will only make you see more as long as others don’t start doing the same. But they will, and the result will be less convenient standing while not gaining in terms of view. Suckling’s move is bound to be duplicated by others next year, and the Bordelais will oblige by allowing the most influential critics an even earlier taste than others. Which means that the experts’ judgements are going to be based on wines that are younger and younger in their stage of development.

Two well-respected names dared to stand up, Jancis Robinson the first to question Suckling’s move earlier that week, in diplomatic and more general terms. Her bravery was seconded by Michel Bettane’s open letter to the Union des Grands Crus. Mind you, a compatriot stepping out of the ranks tends to hit harder in France than a busload of étrangers doing the same, so thumbs up to Michel Bettane for keenly anticipating the effect of what he did.

In public reply, the Union des Grands Crus qualified the uproar as ‘marginal’. That’s actually quite a bit more interesting than it sounds at first glance. You’d have to know a little more about French ways of saying things to fully appreciate that this is in fact their unique way of saying they find it annoyingly inappropriate. I’m also taking bets on Bettane’s move being called no less than high treason on the Bordeaux golf courses, traditionally the place where the château owners and the chartrons relax from the fatigues of having had to talk about money.

At the same time, the superior velocity of the internet should maybe take its time to ponder the role it’s willing to play in this. As Anthony Hanson MW put it eloquently: "If the web can contribute to a revolution in Tunis, can it not also be put freshly to work in Chartrons-land ?"

I’m indebted to Regis Chaigne (@rchbx) for tweeting this piece of wisdom into cyberspace. Let’s give it the thought it deserves.