89 Clerc Milon and Palmer, and musings on ageing Bordeaux
Posted: Mon Jan 10, 2022 9:24 pm
How old is old? It all depends really… A Beaujolais can be old one year after the vintage and I recently had a Pomerol from 1990, i.e. 32 years old, that still had a long way to go.
The notion of “peak” is very difficult to define. François Audouze, a friend well-known on the French wine scene, rejects widely-accepted ideas about ageing, refusing to see this as a curve that that can be plotted on a graph. François adores wines going as far back as the 18th century!
Personal taste obviously comes into play with this issue, as well as the divide between the way enologists and winemakers taste wine as compared to consumers.
Partisans of very old wines say that their detractors are subject to a “fox and the grapes” syndrome, disparaging wines they cannot procure, store properly, afford, or even understand, while people who prefer younger wines claim that really old wines may well be complex, but have lost their fruit and vitality.
It’s a never-ending discussion that makes for impassioned dinnertime conversation!
It would be very convenient if there were a rule of thumb, but how long to age your wine is really so variable: year, estate, how the wine was stored, decanting time, etc.
With regard to Bordeaux, I tend to wait about 3-4 years after the vintage for entry level appellations. Beyond that, it gets rather tricky…
My own priority is this: I would prefer to drink a wine that is too young than one that is too old.
From my perspective, at age 33 any wine is old, and I opened up two of them this past weekend. My cellar contains few wines older than this.
Before talking about the 89s, I should mention two other Bordeaux wines shared with Tim Mc Cracken this past weekend.
The first was a white Bordeaux (AOC Bordeaux) from Saint Estèphe, 2016 Ch. Tronquoy Lalande, from the Bouygues stable, owners of Montrose. This was pricey, but I said to myself that the Bouygues family, one of the wealthiest in France, would not bring out a white wine if it were not something special. Served blind, it was much appreciated and I felt it could hold its own against most classified growths from Pessac-Léognan which, I know, is pretty high praise. It featured a brilliant colour, a fine bouquet, and an attractive rich, but dry flavor. The oak was beautifully integrated. This was a worthwhile discovery.
Tim had donated another wine served blind, a 1978 Clos du Marquis. This showed younger than its years and had all the hallmarks of a fine Médoc and unquestionable finesse, even though it lacked a little oomph. I thought it was from a mid-nineties vintage. This also prompted a discussion of second wines, another subject where wine lovers often have opposing views. Suffice it to say that this second wine of Léoville Las Cases was a powerful argument in favor of the category. And, yes, Las Cases says it’s not really a second wine but, as the English say “pull the other one, it’s got bells on it”!
The two 1989s were served blind side by side with grilled duck breast.
Clerc Milon is a wine I have always liked a lot and considered underrated by critics. It has the added advantage of being reasonably priced for a Pauillac cru classé. I have a stirring memory of the 1982, for instance. It is inevitably compared to d’Armailhac, also a fifth growth also owned by the Rothschilds of Mouton. I usually find Clerc Milon better, but they have built a new cellar for d’Armailhac (right next to Mouton) and things may be changing there.
In any event, this 89 Clerc Milon was squarely in its drinking window and a real pleasure. The nose had the tell-tale graphite and cedar notes of its appellation, but the body was poised and elegant more than powerful, which had dinner guests thinking it might be a Margaux. This was a medium-bodied, very classy wine with fully resolved tannin that everyone appreciated.
1989 Palmer, paradoxically, had more breadth and power than one often associates with Margaux. The impeccable nose was sweet and subtle, and the wine was fresh, vivacious and soft on the palate. The aromatics were just great. Referring to the notion of peak, this 89 Palmer, as enjoyable as it is now, will improve further and undoubtedly hold for many years. I have found recent vintages of Palmer to be more massive, and will be interested to see how these age.
Tim shares his time between San Francisco and Paris, but may come to roost in the City of Light later this year. If so, I hope to see him more often and share more good wines with him.
Best regards,
Alex R.
The notion of “peak” is very difficult to define. François Audouze, a friend well-known on the French wine scene, rejects widely-accepted ideas about ageing, refusing to see this as a curve that that can be plotted on a graph. François adores wines going as far back as the 18th century!
Personal taste obviously comes into play with this issue, as well as the divide between the way enologists and winemakers taste wine as compared to consumers.
Partisans of very old wines say that their detractors are subject to a “fox and the grapes” syndrome, disparaging wines they cannot procure, store properly, afford, or even understand, while people who prefer younger wines claim that really old wines may well be complex, but have lost their fruit and vitality.
It’s a never-ending discussion that makes for impassioned dinnertime conversation!
It would be very convenient if there were a rule of thumb, but how long to age your wine is really so variable: year, estate, how the wine was stored, decanting time, etc.
With regard to Bordeaux, I tend to wait about 3-4 years after the vintage for entry level appellations. Beyond that, it gets rather tricky…
My own priority is this: I would prefer to drink a wine that is too young than one that is too old.
From my perspective, at age 33 any wine is old, and I opened up two of them this past weekend. My cellar contains few wines older than this.
Before talking about the 89s, I should mention two other Bordeaux wines shared with Tim Mc Cracken this past weekend.
The first was a white Bordeaux (AOC Bordeaux) from Saint Estèphe, 2016 Ch. Tronquoy Lalande, from the Bouygues stable, owners of Montrose. This was pricey, but I said to myself that the Bouygues family, one of the wealthiest in France, would not bring out a white wine if it were not something special. Served blind, it was much appreciated and I felt it could hold its own against most classified growths from Pessac-Léognan which, I know, is pretty high praise. It featured a brilliant colour, a fine bouquet, and an attractive rich, but dry flavor. The oak was beautifully integrated. This was a worthwhile discovery.
Tim had donated another wine served blind, a 1978 Clos du Marquis. This showed younger than its years and had all the hallmarks of a fine Médoc and unquestionable finesse, even though it lacked a little oomph. I thought it was from a mid-nineties vintage. This also prompted a discussion of second wines, another subject where wine lovers often have opposing views. Suffice it to say that this second wine of Léoville Las Cases was a powerful argument in favor of the category. And, yes, Las Cases says it’s not really a second wine but, as the English say “pull the other one, it’s got bells on it”!
The two 1989s were served blind side by side with grilled duck breast.
Clerc Milon is a wine I have always liked a lot and considered underrated by critics. It has the added advantage of being reasonably priced for a Pauillac cru classé. I have a stirring memory of the 1982, for instance. It is inevitably compared to d’Armailhac, also a fifth growth also owned by the Rothschilds of Mouton. I usually find Clerc Milon better, but they have built a new cellar for d’Armailhac (right next to Mouton) and things may be changing there.
In any event, this 89 Clerc Milon was squarely in its drinking window and a real pleasure. The nose had the tell-tale graphite and cedar notes of its appellation, but the body was poised and elegant more than powerful, which had dinner guests thinking it might be a Margaux. This was a medium-bodied, very classy wine with fully resolved tannin that everyone appreciated.
1989 Palmer, paradoxically, had more breadth and power than one often associates with Margaux. The impeccable nose was sweet and subtle, and the wine was fresh, vivacious and soft on the palate. The aromatics were just great. Referring to the notion of peak, this 89 Palmer, as enjoyable as it is now, will improve further and undoubtedly hold for many years. I have found recent vintages of Palmer to be more massive, and will be interested to see how these age.
Tim shares his time between San Francisco and Paris, but may come to roost in the City of Light later this year. If so, I hope to see him more often and share more good wines with him.
Best regards,
Alex R.