1985 Ruffino Riserva Ducale Oro Chianti Classico - Tenimenti Ruffino gets no respect no more. Really. I maybe should have given up on this producer a while back, but the '85s and '86s were so great that I've kept buying them in quantity up through '97. We'll see. The Speculator has lost faith, clearly. The wine is rarely even mentioned in lavish spreads on Tuscany these days. And you don't see as many ads in those glossy pages any more, either. That doesn't exactly weigh heavily with me.
The '85 is still an earth-mover. It lacks some of the power it had a few years ago, but it fills the gap with finesse. You need to pay attention to it. But if you do, you'll be rewarded. It's got body, it's got ripe cherries and it's got a hint of nostalgia. Betraying my years, I have to say they don't make 'em like this any more. Time to drink up, but it's still got the wow.
1982 Leoville Poyferre St. Julien - I know I can get that accent over the last "e" if I play around, but I'm feeling too lazy right now. I don't have much of this (only one more left) and this bottle wasn't all that exciting. It was perplexing, more than anything else. An absolutely fabulous nose, redolent of berries and vanilla and cocoa and sin, but in the mouth there was something that smacked of cork taint and it numbed the palate. And after sitting around for a few days it did become more approachable, never more corky (which pretty much exonerates the cork) but never great. It should have been great, based on my previous experience with this wine. So I'm going to call this a tainted bottle -- from what, I don't know.
I'm not convinced there's a rush to open the last one, but now I have no idea what to expect. It's somehow unfair for a wine this old and this venerable to be defective. That's why I'm rapidly becoming a screw-top convert. Even though I don't believe the cork was the culprit here, it all too often is. Romance is nice, but it doesn't last. Getting what you paid for is better.
Friday, September 20, 2002
Serious neglect is going on here. I don't know where the time's gone.
Some quickies. A 1986 Prunotto Bussia Barolo we opened last week at first appeared totally shot -- tannic and tough with no fruit showing. Vacu-vin'd for a few days, it started to open up some. It's certainly no fun to drink right now, so I plan to hold the remaining bottles for at least another year.
Meanwhile, a check on a 1995 Produttori del Barbaresco Ovello was pretty much the same story, not surprisingly, except that the fruit that's hiding is brighter and more explosively cherry (as opposed to the darker, brooding fruit in the Prunotto Barolo). Despite the disfavor that the '95s now suffer in light of the succeeding superlative vintages, this has promise.
Surprisingly(?), the '89 Ovello was also tight, tannic and still somewhat closed. I bought this one just recently from the cellar of a former restaurant that I used to frequent, and I had always found their wines to be fresh and well-maintained, so I'm hopeful that it just needs more time, but I don't know. The fruit doesn't really seem to be there.
And speaking of disappointments, a '91 Chave (J.L.) Hermitage the other night was screaming with volatile acidity, with very little fruit to be found. A bad bottle, perhaps? Unfortunately, storage very well may be the culprit here. This was purchased from a now-defunct retailer that wasn't exactly known for attention to its temperature controls. We'll see.
Finally, a tasting last night of upper level Vincent Girardin red Bugundies from the '98 and '99 vintages. Given that these wines are doubtless withholding much of their attraction at this point, it was still a disappointing showing for most of the participants. I actually enjoyed many of the wines quite a bit, but they were strange, sometimes extreme, and most of them bore very little resemblance to Burgundies.
There's a tired old argument about whether a wine needs to accurately reflect its varietal and territorial origins in order to be "good." I still have no firm opinion on this question. I understand those who say that if it tastes good and is well put together, it doesn't matter if it matches the profile assigned to wines from that grape and place. Good is good, and I wouldn't refuse a glass of Rioja that tasted good just because it tasted like a good Bordeaux. Certainly not. But when I go to pair wines with food and I'm looking for a delicate, ethereal cherry-flavored Burgundy and instead find a monster sized chocolate-covered raspberry cordial in my glass, I'm likely to be annoyed. Wine is still a beverage to be drunk with food, and while some wines make for great tasting or even great drinking by themselves, this isn't usually the purpose for which I buy them.
That said, I thought the two most fascinating wines of the night were the two Cotes-de-Beaune wines. The '99 Corton Perrieres was, to me, a spicy, chocolate/cocoa bomb with just enough of a hint of cherry/raspberry fruit at the center to make it palatable. I liked it, but the group of 8 people tasting scored it dead last. I also enjoyed the '99 Pommard Les Grand Epenots, another anomaly. This was a monster, exuding mushroomy, earthy smells and tasting of leather, black fruit and raw beef. The group didn't care for this one, either.
But my favorite of the night was also the group's favorite. The '98 Chambolle Musigny Les Amoureuses was full of rich, ripe cherry flavor and was long, layered and complex. Best of all, it tasted like Burgundy.
Some quickies. A 1986 Prunotto Bussia Barolo we opened last week at first appeared totally shot -- tannic and tough with no fruit showing. Vacu-vin'd for a few days, it started to open up some. It's certainly no fun to drink right now, so I plan to hold the remaining bottles for at least another year.
Meanwhile, a check on a 1995 Produttori del Barbaresco Ovello was pretty much the same story, not surprisingly, except that the fruit that's hiding is brighter and more explosively cherry (as opposed to the darker, brooding fruit in the Prunotto Barolo). Despite the disfavor that the '95s now suffer in light of the succeeding superlative vintages, this has promise.
Surprisingly(?), the '89 Ovello was also tight, tannic and still somewhat closed. I bought this one just recently from the cellar of a former restaurant that I used to frequent, and I had always found their wines to be fresh and well-maintained, so I'm hopeful that it just needs more time, but I don't know. The fruit doesn't really seem to be there.
And speaking of disappointments, a '91 Chave (J.L.) Hermitage the other night was screaming with volatile acidity, with very little fruit to be found. A bad bottle, perhaps? Unfortunately, storage very well may be the culprit here. This was purchased from a now-defunct retailer that wasn't exactly known for attention to its temperature controls. We'll see.
Finally, a tasting last night of upper level Vincent Girardin red Bugundies from the '98 and '99 vintages. Given that these wines are doubtless withholding much of their attraction at this point, it was still a disappointing showing for most of the participants. I actually enjoyed many of the wines quite a bit, but they were strange, sometimes extreme, and most of them bore very little resemblance to Burgundies.
There's a tired old argument about whether a wine needs to accurately reflect its varietal and territorial origins in order to be "good." I still have no firm opinion on this question. I understand those who say that if it tastes good and is well put together, it doesn't matter if it matches the profile assigned to wines from that grape and place. Good is good, and I wouldn't refuse a glass of Rioja that tasted good just because it tasted like a good Bordeaux. Certainly not. But when I go to pair wines with food and I'm looking for a delicate, ethereal cherry-flavored Burgundy and instead find a monster sized chocolate-covered raspberry cordial in my glass, I'm likely to be annoyed. Wine is still a beverage to be drunk with food, and while some wines make for great tasting or even great drinking by themselves, this isn't usually the purpose for which I buy them.
That said, I thought the two most fascinating wines of the night were the two Cotes-de-Beaune wines. The '99 Corton Perrieres was, to me, a spicy, chocolate/cocoa bomb with just enough of a hint of cherry/raspberry fruit at the center to make it palatable. I liked it, but the group of 8 people tasting scored it dead last. I also enjoyed the '99 Pommard Les Grand Epenots, another anomaly. This was a monster, exuding mushroomy, earthy smells and tasting of leather, black fruit and raw beef. The group didn't care for this one, either.
But my favorite of the night was also the group's favorite. The '98 Chambolle Musigny Les Amoureuses was full of rich, ripe cherry flavor and was long, layered and complex. Best of all, it tasted like Burgundy.
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