After the 2000s, Leroy wines tend to show greater ullage compared to those from the 1990s.
May I ask whether this is due to a looser seal between the cork and the bottleneck, or because the corks were pre-soaked before bottling?
Or could it be that the bottles were simply not filled as high at the time of bottling?
Leroy is known to overfill bottles, which can lead to seepage. Additionally, it is hard to believe but some DRCs and Leroys were not properly cellared in the 1980s and early 1990s—for example, the 1985 and 1990 DRCs often show poor ullage.
However, it appears that Leroy adjusted their overfilling practices after the 2000s. In some more recent releases, one can observe that the bottles are not filled as high as before, suggesting that the domaine may have deliberately left some ullage—perhaps as a controlled measure to reduce pressure-related seepage or preserve cork integrity.
I used to drink a lot of Leroy wines, but I no longer dd, for obvious reasons. IMO, the glory days of Leroy was the 90s. A generous friend server the 2009 Domaine Leroy Latricieres Chambertin blind, and all of us thought it was a good village wine, super concentrated but a not showing much elegance. IMO, Leroy’s producer signature is so strong that it masks terroir.
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Exactly. I was told early on to just buy the Savigny as it tastes like the rest of them!
At a young stage, Leroy wines are often dominated by overt winemaking signatures—marked élevage and stylistic artifices that tend to overshadow the underlying terroir. These elements are particularly prominent in their youth, making the wines feel more about the hand of the producer than the nuance of place.
As the wines age, however, these winemaking markers gradually recede, giving way to a different aromatic profile that is far more reflective of the vineyard site—the climat—and the purity of fruit expression. The transformation can be quite profound.
Leroy wines typically evolve through distinct phases. The primary phase is characterized by openness and exuberant primary aromatics. This is followed by a closed, often awkward adolescent period—what some in France humorously call the boutonneux phase, as if the wine were going through puberty. During this time, grand crus often taste disjointed and unharmonious.
The secondary phase is where the wines become truly spectacular: structure, complexity, and a sense of place begin to emerge with clarity. For those bottles capable of long-term evolution, a tertiary phase eventually arrives, marked by profound elegance and layered depth.
Even in youth, keen tasters may discern subtle terroir nuances—but these are often obscured by the dominant signature of the élevage.