Whenever I taste a great, or even good, mature White Burgundy, I’m reminded of why my blood still boils over PremOx. I find myself constantly amazed by how they marry elegance and complexity with richness and power. In the end, I think Riesling is more complex, but somehow White Burgundy seems to have “everything” for my palate.
Anyway, last night my friend Mark and I decided to enjoy a couple of older bottles and dinner while hashing out the world. As we discussed many things, and the setting was informal (to say the least), I didn’t take particularly detailed notes but:
It was a lovely Batard. All the mature aromas were there, golden, honeyed fruit, with nuts and exciting intensity. We served it cold at first, and as the wine warmed, it became richer and more expansive, and made me think of drinking sunlight. Where young Batard can seem as dense as a star, this has reached the point where the it truly is a bright and delicate as a sunbeam.
While enjoying the wine with cold asparagus soup (I was surprised how well this worked) and a salad, we were startled but the husk of a beechnut clattering on the patio table. We went back to talking, but suddenly the branches high above rattled again and a cascade of nuts began to fall. The squirrels above were feeding, and took no heed of our meal below, and soon I was trying to bat beechnuts away as they fell on my head.
The final straw? One nut took a perfect, college ‘quarters’ bounce and ended up in the bottom of my glass. I made a quick joke about how the wine suddenly seemed more nutty, scooped it out with a spoon, and then we headed for the front porch, where we enjoyed a 71 Bouchard Clos de Vougeot. Not great, but good.