Monthly Archives: August 2013

Celebrating 30th birthdays with a clutch of 1983 wines

This year I celebrated the big 3-0. Whilst for me 1983 was obviously a very important year, in wine terms it was a middling year, with some good wines made in many regions but without the greatness of, say, Alex’s 1982 vintage – hailed as one of the best in Bordeaux. 1983 was, however, a widely declared year for vintage port – something my siblings cottoned onto when they bought me a (delicious) bottle of Grahams 1983 for my 21st birthday.

A few years ago when I was working at The Sampler I realised this milestone of turning 30 was ahead and thought how nice it would be to squirrel away a few bottles of 1983 to celebrate my birthday. If you don’t know The Sampler, it’s a great independent merchant in London which generally has good stocks of older vintages of wine, sourced from private cellars, auctions and the like. So as 1983 wines appeared I would buy the odd bottle and put it to the bottom of my wine rack to keep until 2013 rolled around. Added to this my Dad kindly offered a few bottles out of his cellar so soon enough I had 7 bottles covering white, red, sweet and port. Enough for a good party.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, quite a few of my friends turned 30 this year too and as we were all heading out to the Douro in Portugal for a group holiday this summer I suggested bringing the bottles along and all celebrating together. Which is what we did, carefully packing the wines into polystyrene tubes in our suitcases so our precious cargo would arrive safe and sound.

And so on the Saturday night of our holiday we all chipped in to produce a delicious 4 course dinner and open the wines. In tasting order we had:

Domaine du Closel Savennieres 1983

Aujas Ernest et Daniel Julienas 1983

Chateau Prieure Lichine, Margaux 1983

Lacoste Borie, Pauillac 1983

Chateau Potensac, Medoc 1983

Chateau Liot Barsac 1983

Gould Campbell Vintage Port 1983

First up was the white, served with some home-cured salmon. Savennieres is a region in the Loire Valley of France which produces white wine from Chenin Blanc. Whilst it is known for its age-worthiness and I have had lovely examples at 10-15 years old, I have to admit to being prepared for this to be completely past it. But I am happy to report it was still going strong. There were certainly some savoury mushroom notes hinting at the age, but these were underpinned by vibrant acidity and even some lingering citrus fruit and honey character. A real surprise, just wish I had another bottle!

Next up was the Beaujolais. Again I had real doubts about this wine being drinkable –Beaujolais is usually drunk whilst young and fruity and whilst it can age and develop almost Pinot Noir-like earthy aromas, 30 years was surely pushing it. It wasn’t quite the surprise that the Savennieres was, most of the fruit had indeed faded, leaving the acidity a little clunky and out of balance. But, it was far from undrinkable and still possessed some elegance. Overall an interesting wine to taste, but not one anyone went back to.

The trio of Bordeaux came next, nicely matched by Beef Wellington wrapped in parma ham rather than pastry. The Prieure Lichine certainly had the elegance you’d expect of Margaux, but I felt that it didn’t have the tannins to quite hold up to 30 years of age. It still had some pretty fruit but finished rather short. Enjoyable enough to drink, but not to savour. The next two pretty much split the table for top red of the night. For me the Lacoste Borie pipped the Potensac to the post. The Potensac probably had more lingering fruit – on the front palate there was still a lot of blackcurrant fruit, pretty impressive for a 30 year old wine. However, after this burst of fruit it became a bit bitter and finished quite abruptly. The Lacoste Borie had a lovely mix of more evolved savoury fruit and earth notes and fine tannins and was the one I went back to.

Onto the pudding course – which was actually a very fresh summer pudding and not the greatest match with Barsac so we enjoyed the pudding and then had the wine separately.  Bright gold in colour with honey, marmalade and mushroom notes and bright acidity to balance the sweetness, really all you could want in a pudding wine. A winner for everyone.

Then finally onto the port which we had carefully decanted earlier in the day. Surprisingly perhaps this was the only cork to crumble as we pulled it out, a butlers thief sadly not to hand. You’d think in the home of cork forests that the port would have the best cork of the bunch, but sadly not. Whilst it seemed a bit crazy to bring port to the Douro, it was lovely drinking the wine in the region where it was produced many years before. Velvet textured with layers of dark raisin fruit, savoury earth and spice notes and that warming feeling of port. Delicious and a superb end to a great meal.

Guess I better start collecting wine for our 40ths soon…

Emma

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Obscure varieties, anyone?

It’s been a while since I blogged, apologies. I am rather enjoying a blissful summer (largely sans wine geekery) and indulging my inner film geek by catching up on all the movies I missed whilst studying. I am also burdened with the glorious purpose that is my imminent wedding. So I haven’t really had that much wine related material to blog about.

Luckily, a couple of weeks ago I had an idea. Not quite a halleluya type moment, nor did any lightbulbs suddenly go off but it was a fun idea. Chatting to some fellow wine geeks on twitter about obscure grape varieties, it occured to me that it might be fun to organize some kind of tasting of discovery and taste the sort of wines that require you to pull out your copy of Grapes, the book. (if you haven’t seen it, this is Jancis Robinson’s mega encyclopedia of every single grape variety in existence…or not. )Thus it was that 11 of us brave souls met for dinner at Le Cafe Anglais (lovely food and free corkage on Mondays) to explore the world of the obscure grape varieties.

The wines brought were:
White
2012 Ortrugo Frizzante, Cantine Bonelli, Emilia Romagna, Italy
2011 Koshu Kayagatake, Grace Wine, Japan
2010 Rotgipfler, Heinrich Hartl, Thermenregion, Austria
2012 Atlantis (Assyrtiko, Aidani, Athiri), Santorini, Greece
2011 Malagousia, Gerovassiliou, Greece
2010 Pitasso Timorasso, Claudio Mariotto, Piemonte, Italy (although this was not right, sadly)
2011 Pošip, Croatia (white of the night)
2008 Haslevelu, Gabor, Tokaj, Hungary

Red
2012 Rossese, Bruna, DOC Riviera Ligure di Ponente, Italy
2010 Pineau d’Aunis ‘Rouges Gorges’, Eric Nicolas, Coteaux du Loir, France
2011 Braghe Freisa, Claudio Mariotto, Piemonte, Italy
2011 Listan Negro,’La Solana’ vino de parcela, Tenerife (red of the night)
2011 Fonte Del Re Lacrima di Morro d’Alba, Italy
2005 Alpha Estate’s Xinomavro, Greece

Sweet
2003 Candido Aleatico, Italy

Suffice to say, we all got to taste varieties we’d never heard of or tried before. I liked the first wine, Ortrugo….it’s light, spritzy, grapey. Like a mix of Torrontes and Malvasia with the freshness of a Txakoli or Vinho Verde. Lovely summer drink. The Rotgipfler (available at Waitrose) had an acacia honey nose and sherbety lemony palate, better than the ones I remember trying in Austria on the first MW course seminar! The real surprise was a lovely Pošip from Croatia. Sadly I didn’t seem to take a photo so can’t remember who it’s by! It’s an aromatic variety, upon smelling it you could be forgiven to think you’d just walked into a perfume shop: notes of jasmine, dried apples, nighttime flowers and with a spicy backbone. Yum, get some if you can find it! (and apparently you can, at Theatre of Wine)

On the red front, my Pineau d’Aunis (from the Loire) turned out to be the marmite of the night, some loved it and some didn’t. I liked its peppery, light and wild strawberry scented qualities but didn’t like it as much as the juicy Freisa (I am biased, I do love this variety and it was also mine!) and the drop dead gorgeous Listan Negro from Tenerife. The Listan Negro was my wine of the night, it had a seductive perfume of wild roses and red cherries underpinned by volcanic minerality and nice acidity. This is precisely how I like my wines. It was followed by Lacrima di Morro d’Alba, which we decided was like a red incarnation of Gewurztraminer with its rose petal pie peachy goodness. A bit of a mouthful, too. The last red was Greek and I must have been a bit tipsy at this point as instead of tasting notes I decided to practice writing the Greek alphabet just to see if my two years worth of Greek classes still amount to something. Well, I can still spell Ξινόμαυρο so that’s ok.

So, next time you’re browsing the wine isle for something different, look out for these bad boys. You may be pleasantly surprised, or have a marmite moment. Either way, never stop learning.

Lenka (Evil Monkey)

(for stockists of some of these wines, worth visiting Red Squirrel Wine, Park and BridgeTheatre of Wine, Waitrose, Marks & Sparks)