@Steve_McLauglin’s recent post/plea to grip and rip when it comes to Burgundy got me to thinking. Here are categories where I’m less fussy, some where I’m still in recovery, and then the shining red lines I still can’t cross …
VINTAGES
I’m a firm believer that the best vintage is the one that suits your mood/purpose on a given night. I used to be a stickler for avoiding so-called lesser vintages like 06 and 11. I know lots of people who decide they don’t like a particular vintage and cast it to the dustbin of history: “I’m selling all my 08s. They are too acidic.” Anyone can do what they want obviously, but I think that’s short-sighted. I like having a mix of vintages in my cellar from the same producers. I’m frequently surprised by how well a bottle from a maligned vintage can show better on a given night than a rock-star vintage from the same producer. One of my greatest joys from this hobby is having my carefully curated assumptions up-ended. I’ve come to realize the more I understand about Burgundy, the less I know.
But where I do stand firm is on when to open and drink vintages. I tend to like my whites young, when they are fresh and fruit-driven. I tend to like my reds older, when some of the tannins have softened and the forest-floor notes emerge. More often than not, I find drinking 20-year-old Puligny more an intellectual exercise than a hedonistic one. Many of my best wine friends disagree strenuously. Same with red – there’s simply no way that a 2019 Clos St Denis is going to taste as sublime as a 1993. @Michael Chang is a passionate defender of opening up Grand Crus early if they are “ready.” Who is right? Neither of us!
PRODUCERS
When I began trying Burgundy, I had very catholic tastes (with a lower case “c”). I tried bottles from a wide swath of regions and producers. My first go-to wines in the 1990s were Dominique Laurent and Denis Mortet. Then I started doing research and going to my first dinners with older collectors who poured me the really good stuff – Leroy, Dujac, Roumier et al. I am honest enough to say I became a bit of a label licker. I thought I had graduated to the “big leagues” and stopped buying and tasting as widely. It may sound heretical, but you get in a rut when you just drink the “best stuff.” You become jaded and a bit of palate fatigue sets in. @Charlie Fu has written about this before. In the same way you don’t want to eat at Michelin-starred restaurants every night, you don’t want to just drink Grand Cru wines from the usual suspects at every wine dinner. At least I no longer do.
One small example from the recent NYC Paulee: The Raveneau lines were a madhouse all weekend. Lines twenty people deep. Right next to Maxime, Edouard Vocoret poured electric and delicious Chablis from Le Bas de Chapelot, located just below Montee de Tonnerre. You could walk right up to the charismatic, skater-dude Edouard and discover something fresh and exciting. I get happy discovering wines like these and supporting emerging winemakers. I’d rather do that than fret over how high the prices have become for Ramonet 1er crus or fighting to hang onto my dwindling allocations as I age out of the market.
But where I do stand firm is producer style. I like less extracted wines with delicacy and finesse. I like stony, succulent, red-fruited wines. Those will always be close to my heart. For whites, I do like the reductive, spent fireworks style with plenty of chewy, dry extract.
VILLAGES
See above. I used to firmly believe what Napoleon once supposedly said: “Life is too short to drink Santenay.” Back in the day, the lesser appellations could be rough – they just didn’t ripen well if the weather became challenging in certain vintages. The wines could be thin, acidic, watery. There was a reason you stuck to Gevrey or Vosne. But with climate change (warmer temps in colder sites), advances in farming/cellar practices and generational shifts in philosophy, wines from the Macon or Fixin can be revelatory. Again, it may sound nuts but I’m often more pleased at a group dinner if someone brings a new discovery from a less-heralded village than yet another young Dujac or whatever.
Where I do stand is village preference. Chambolle Musigny brought me to the dance, and I’m sticking with her. I’m glad that she makes up the largest portion of my cellar. But I’m happy to date on the side …
SERVING TEMPERATURES
I’ve written that most U.S. civilians serve their whites too cold (out of the fridge) and their reds too warm (pulled from the rack above the refrigerator). Even collectors can fall into this trap. But I’m getting less nuts about hitting just the right temperature. Sometimes I will drink a glass of white out of the fridge and enjoy it in a weird way and then I’m pleased as it warms and softens and opens up with some warming. That said, I can’t drink red that’s too warm. I am not embarrassed to say that I’ve put an ice cube or two in too-warm reds. Yes, there’s a bit more water but I’m much more happy. Please don’t ban me.
STEMWARE
This is the non-negotiable. I hate, hate, hate mediocre stemware. I’m not fussing whether the Gabriel is hand-blown or not. I’m talking about going to a restaurant or a friend’s house and being served wine in those Crate and Barrel-style stems that look good but are just clunky and lipped thicker than you’d like. I can’t relax or move beyond it. It’s awful. I will often just drink beer if the stemware is lacking. When it comes to the better stems, I am agnostic and don’t feel strongly about Zalto vs. Conterno Sensory or whatever. As long at its thin lipped and balanced in my hand.
COMPANY
I am an open-minded guy. As a former journalist, I like meeting people with different life experiences and listening to perspectives different than mine. I do wish the pond weren’t quite so filled with attorneys, physicians, tech bros and finance, but it comes with the territory! Ha. My point is that it’s often more fun to drink with a wine-loving ex-cop than a snooty somm on his night off.
Some of my friends refuse to drink with people who may have voted for a certain someone for president. I think that’s dumb, but I admire their conviction. I also like to drink with people that have strong stands about wines, vintage and vignerons – so long as they are informed opinions. I don’t like drinking with bullies, know-it-alls or the ungenerous. It makes me nuts to see well-heeled people who should know better bring the least wine they think they can get away with at group dinners.
OK, enough of me and my solipsistic musings. How have you tried to become more flexible in your approach to fine wine?






