William Styron wrote in Sophie’s Choice, “But she only knew that the savor of it gave her an unparalleled sense of delight, a luscious and reckless and great-hearted warmth that spread to her toes, validating all quaint and ancient maxims as to the healing properties of wine. Light headed, woozy, she heard herself say to her provider toward the end of the meal, ‘you know, when you live a good life like a saint and die, that must be what they make you to drink in paradise.‘”
The wine that Nathan had treated Sophie to was Ch. Margaux 1937, one of the best of the pre-war vintages in Bordeaux. As Styron noted, it cost $14., which represented half of Sophie’s weekly salary in 1947.
As I have noted previously in these pages, great wine knows no colour, it is neither red nor white… it’s simply great wine. Neither do regions or National Borders exist. Truly great wine is an art form that provides a purity of joy that washes over the senses.
A week ago Thursday I had the opportunity to taste the five Grand Cru White Burgundies. It was an extraordinary evening.
Perhaps it is easier to think of the truly great reds of the world… wines from Bordeaux, Brunello, Barolo, Barbaresco, Burgundy, Cote Rotie, Cali Cab… the list is longer. For whites, however, Burgundy is without peer.
Yes, we know that 30 years ago Chateau Montalena and Mike Grgich of Napa served notice on the world by taking a blind competition away from Grand Cru Burgundy (French judged, by the by). But make no mistake, in terms of history and consistency of excellence, White Burgundy is perched on the pinnacle of the wine world.
And there is so little of it… Burgundy’s production is a small fraction of what is produced in Bordeaux, and the famed region noted for its highest quality wines, the Cote d’Or, covers less ground than the Napa Valley. And within that region, less than 1% of the vineyards are classified as Grand Cru…
And Grand Cru white vineyards are a greatly outnumbered by red. Four of the Grand Cru white vineyards are nestled between the Villages of Chassagne and Puligny. Together the vineyards of Chevalier-Montrachet, Bienvenues-Batard-Montrachet, Batard-Montrachet and Montrachet comprise a block of land that would fit inside a small Texas ranch. The fifth Grand Cru, Corton-Charlemagne is adjacent to the Village of Corton, also is of meager size.
From these small vineyards, producers share ownership of the production (remember, already small to begin with)… and the wines enter the marketplace fragmented by several negociants in minute quantities.
Our tasting flight included a representative of each of the vineyards and we were able to compare two vintages of Corton-Charlemagne. Each wine was an ethereal experience… deeply fragrant, layers of flavour, well balanced between the essential tropical fruit taste of the Chardonnay grape, oak aging, subtle nuttiness & smokiness… soft on the palate and a lingering finish that continued to a distant shore.
Perhaps it was unfair and greedy to try so many great wines together. Each one would have been more than a treat.
I knew that the Montrachet would be exceptional… a wine that combined elegance and finesse, with strength and richness. You could not ask for more… other than another taste… and another.
But the wine that surprised me was the Batard-Montrachet. The silkiness of the palate feel, the hint of mineral tones and the grace of almond and vanilla. Surprised? No, not really. It was the wine that just preceded the Montrachet… and I had made a mistake in initially overlooking it in anticipation of experiencing the Montrachet. But once tried, the Batard asserted itself as a wine of its own reward.
I have been very fortunate. I have enjoyed many great wines. But Thursday last, was evening for memory. There is already talk of putting together another one. And as great as it maybe, it will not replace the unique quality of what took place on a single July evening in 2006.
I am reminded of a line… “you don’t drink Burgundy — you visit Burgundy, you study it.”
Sophie may have felt she had a glimpse of “paradise” drinking Margaux ’37… and I can understand thinking that… but there is no doubt in my mind that my Montrachet ’04 is equal in its heavenly preview.