Well, @Nick_Christie … your wish is my command. New TNs on some old wines.
The theme might be “Calling @Sarah_Kirschbaum” – who has declared that Raveneau wines are never ready to open.
She should’ve joined me on the patio in Hancock Park recently, where some savvy collectors invited me to sample some stellar Chablis and white Burgundies from the 1990s.
Normally, an entire night centered around 30-year-old Chardonnay gives me The Fear – brassy color, appley noses, life-support energy …
But these were no ordinary bottles.
Instead, our benefactor had brought some special wine with him on a recent trip to L.A. – some Raveneau and Leroy wines that had been vinified during the elder Bush and Clinton administrations.
The pedigree could not be better – a 1996 Raveneau Montee de Tonnerre, a 1992 Raveneau Valmur and a 1996 Masion Leroy Meursault Perrieres. These bottles had been bought on release and stored in an ideal cellar for many decades.
I honestly doubted if I would like the wines.
I’ve read that quality Chablis can age very well, but I don’t have a ton of experience with vintages from the previous millennium. I’d been told that Chablis can soften with age, with the acids mellowing and more savory aspects emerging. You trade some freshness for a deeper, more complex wine.
On paper it’s not a tradeoff, I’d normally go for. I tend to appreciate Chablis on the younger side. I prize this special wine for its bracing mélange of crisp lemon, sea breeze and oyster shell. Instead, with older Chablis I’d be tasting notes of honey and dried fruits, mixed with mushroom and aged cheese.
After an aperitif of fine vintage Egly Ouriet champagne, we popped and poured a few of the older bottles. When I saw the deep golden color of the Raveneaus, I began to fret a bit. The nose had a nutty quality I don’t associate with Chablis. I had to rewire my brain to try and appreciate the wines on their own terms.
At first blush, I resisted the wines. The color was dull, the palate a bit flat. They just seemed too, well, old. I wanted something easy and refreshing and familiar. This felt more like intellectual exercise than hedonistic indulgence.
The benefactor urged patience and restraint – give the wines a bit of time to waken from their Rip Van Winkle slumber, he said. Slowly, with air, the Raveneau wines began to stir to life. I had to focus, but I began teasing out some umami notes that popped out from the broad honeycomb flavors that dominated the palate. The wines were more bass than treble, and the wine rested on its fruit rather than the hallmark Chablis acidity.
The Valmur had an appealing smoky-caramel note but still displayed chalky, mineral elements. The descriptor that comes closest to mind is a perfectly toasted marshmallow by the campfire. I know that sounds weird for Chablis, but it intrigued me.
The Tonnerre seemed a bit more advanced/oxidized, but the textbook ’96 acids kept the wine lively in the mouth. This had notes of iodine, chamomile and just a hint of butterscotch. Texturally the wine delivered. It’s long and sappy.
Then, the 96 Leroy. Sigh. Madame steals the show again. This wine just had more freshness, lift and most everything else. It is a gorgeous wine, with a perfect balance of mature white peach/pear, oily texture and peppery acids. The color was light gold and the finish had a persistent quality where you felt the dry extract linger even after all these years in bottle.
Would I probably have enjoyed these wines 10 years earlier? Probably yes. Would’ve I learned as much? Probably not!
Tasting these wines, I felt a sense of gratitude. For having generous friends that share special bottles with me. For having a hobby that keeps me on my toes, hones my perception skills and leaves me pleasantly buzzed on the Uber ride home.
There’s a bit of melancholy or wistfulness as well when drinking these “Lion in Winter” wines with good men now in their 70s. As I get older, I realize that nights like this are special.
Like the wines themselves, we may be moving past our so-called prime, but there’s still plenty of life left. Older wines, like older people, have much to show us – if we only can slow down a bit, to appreciate their more sublime qualities.
