The owner of my local shop found some old white Burgs in the store’s cellar. He opened a few, apparently a bunch were totally oxidized, so he decided to sell them at a big discount. I got two bottles- one of which was this, for $25.
I didn’t know much about this producer, so once I got home, I searched on WBers for info. At first, I was excited to see Matrot cited as an example of a classic old school White Burgundy producer. Then, I was less excited to see that their wines are often associated with [premox](pox; TN: 2016 Domaine Matrot Puligny-Montrachet 1er Cru Les Chalumeaux). I’ve had a fair share or crappy White Burgs that were dead on arrival, so expectations were low.
But I managed to somehow dodge to premox bullet on this one, because this is an absolutely phenomenal wine. That a 25yr old village-level wine is so delicious, rich, complex, just so enjoyable, over the course of several hours, is stunning. My TN:
Cork is in great shape. Color is a little golden, but overall far lighter than I would expect for a wine of this age. The aromas tell me this is a winner from the moment the cork is pulled. On the nose, first impression is, unexpectedly: cantaloupe. Followed by ripe yellow peach, candied lemon, baked grapefruit with caramelized brown sugar, burnt meringue, shortbread.
In the mouth, this is full bodied, med alcohol, med acid, with a lovely creamy texture. Like the nose, the immediate flavor is that of cantaloupe, which is unusual, but it really works here. Other flavors of sweet lemon desserts, pear, a touch of nuttiness, orange zest, baking pie crust. There is a touch of nuttiness, but it is in the background. The finish is super long and complex.
It’s a bit sad actually, experiencing how amazing these wines can be, knowing that so many are lost to premox. I realize these aged old-school White Burgs are becoming rarer and rarer. I feel lucky to have experienced this wine, at such a reasonable cost of entry. Might be the only time…We’ll see how the other bottle I bought turns out.
On a tangentially related note, I recently moved to a neighborhood that is supposedly overrun with kids for Halloween. This is a first for me. I’ve lived in apartments my entire adult life until a few months ago. I’m not sure why, but my utopic suburban vision of Halloween involves sitting on the front lawn, with a fire going, giving out candy to kids. Why is there a fire? No idea. No one did that when I was a kid, but it somehow feels right. I’m convinced that having a fire going is a necessary component to a proper Halloween.
So, like any red-blooded American, I went to an online retailer (that starts with A), and ordered a smokeless firepit that was delivered this afternoon. Halloween being tomorrow, I didn’t want the first time lighting it up to be on my front lawn in full view of all my neighbors, lest it should fail somehow. Instead, I decided to do a practice run in the backyard tonight. The firepit worked beautifully; sitting by the roaring fire, enjoying this amazing wine, under the stars, on this unseasonably warm New England fall night, was a lovely experience.