July and Europe always go well together in my world. This past week I spent seven days in seven cities racing across the continent, including one day in four countries. I remember back a few years when I did 18 cities in 26 days. Seven cities sure felt like enough this time; I guess I am getting wiser .

One of my stops had me visiting The Judge, who handed out his usual punishment, 6-8…bottles of wine. He had actually been overcoming the theft of one of his cars earlier in the day, with his girlfriend’s dog still inside. Thankfully, he got the car back. I mean the dog.

A 1928 Lamouroux was a Margaux, I believe. There was cinnamon and spice there to this relatively fresh wine. It was lighter and leaner in the mouth, possessing less intensity and more water. It was still alive is about the best thing I can say (85).

We couldn’t get throughout the evening without at least one Burgundy, which was a young, vigorous 1990 Leroy Clos Vougeot. Perhaps the age and maturity of the previous wines made it seem even younger than it was, but it felt almost like a barrel sample! This was Modern Art in the face of a Monet exhibition, still pure and deep with menthol, spice girls and that Leroy rubber tire. Asian spice and licorice also joined the party. The palate was Monaco rich, almost buttery and crazy long. Its finish crackled with big-time fireplace action, but was still smooth (95).

Despite ending on a Burgundy note, this evening showed wherein the greatness of Bordeaux lies, in its age. This age comes in the cellar, whether it be from the Chateau or a private collector. Those that cellar these wines will always be rewarded. The verdict was in.

All eyes are on Brazil right now. I’m not sure if it is just because of ESPN, but I feel like America is collectively and sincerely paying attention to soccer for the first time. While many from all over the world have descended upon Brazil for this incredible celebration of human spirit, most guys that I know in Brazil are currently in America. Of course, they are watching and rooting passionately for their country, but it’s just too much of a disruption to their normal lives. It’s also a good excuse to come to America, which most of the gentlemen I know there regularly do, and I am glad a few of my Brazilian friends were in New York this past week, led by The Ringmaster, a man after my own heart.

The 1995 Coche-Dury Corton Charlemagne seemed overwhelmed by the Leroy at first; in fact, almost everyone preferred the Leroy initially. The Coche was certainly more feminine and elegant, and its sensuality got lost amidst the brute force of the Leroy. However, with time, it kept gaining and unfurling into a longer and more intense experience, and in the end I considered the two wines neck and neck despite the clear difference in style. The Coche had more white fruit, some game and was quite exotic with its almost Brazilian fruit (Brazil has some of its own unqiue fruits that are absolutely wild btw). Its palate was creamy, long and sensual. There were nice broth and earth flavors. The Jeweler came back to the Coche and was the first to voice his new found preference. It held with its balance, had great flesh and was in a perfect spot for maturity, albeit it more mature than the Leroy, perhaps. The acidity kept creeping out more and more, and The Ringmaster admired its ‘cotton candy.’ Don’t call it a comeback, it’s been there for years (96).

The 1990 Leroy Richebourg that followed seemed almost infantile by comparison. This showed much younger, deeper and blacker. I supposed it was starting to show some skin by Leroy’s usual standards, but the ’82 RC was so deliciously mature, it skewed our perspective. The Richebourg’s palate was big and oaky without being obtrusive; it squared up a bit but its thickness could not be denied. There was a bit of that Leroy gas and ass, both in kiss quantities. It got better in the glass, both fruit and finish-wise (95).

The 1982 Mouton Rothschild was another level. It, too, was tight, but darker and deeper as well. This was a spectacular wine that wasn’t all about the pleasure; in fact, it may more have been about the pain and rain, but it was much longer than anything we had this night. This was a lifetime wine, and while arguably all of the Burgundies gave more pleasure now, there was no question which wine would still be standing long after all of us. The debate of now versus later in the context of greatness will always be debatable, and while I got more pleasure out of the Burgundies, I still recognized that this was the wine of the night (97+).

By the end of the evening, I left cheering for Brazil in the World Cup, against the USA in the final, of course.

This past week I was in New York, but I might as well have been in Hong Kong, as the three dinners on my calendar were with three of HK’s finest collectors, all in New York on separate business occasions, although there were a couple of interconnected links.

The Chairman is a name bestowed on three different individuals in three different continents as far as Vintage Tastings lore goes, but it would be safe to say that they all might defer to the one in Hong Kong for any final votes in the boardroom. A number of us were treated to a night of incredible wine and food in the private room at Bouley, as the pulse of America’s and China’s investment market met and broke bread and reds.

I think five bottles of 1995 Krug went down the hatch by the time we sat down to dinner. The 1995 is definitely getting better with age, and it is starting to thicken a bit. It was still rustic yet bready, with nice oil and vitamin flavors, flirting with outstanding (94+).

The 1997 Chave Hermitage Blanc took up the Montrachet challenge, and if there were ever a white that could knock a Montrachet down to its knees, it would be this. While some might put its personality under the ‘acquired’ or ‘geeky’ category, I find his whites fabulous and unique. It had that glue-do-voodoo kink, which hopefully anyone who has had his whites will understand. There were kinky fruits, icy flavors and diamonds sparkling on its finish. It was round and full, with mango, game and (good) bitter flavors. This was a white wine still ascending at age 17, although its fruit was starting to hit that sweet spot (95).

The 2000 Drouhin Montrachet Marquis de Laguiche was more than up for the challenge. This is my favorite Montrachet in terms of price-to-quality ratio. It always delivers outstanding quality without the stratospheric price tag, and this was no exception. The crowd immediately jumped in the Montrachet camp, but of course, they were bankers, so no surprise there J. Its nose oozed buttery spice, along with nice mint, cedar and cream aromas. Its palate was long, smooth and buttery, while Jennie observed, ‘overripe pineapple.’ I loved this wine (95+).

Actually, it wasn’t the end of our Bordeaux program, as I had to slip in a blind wine of my own. Such generosity must be reciprocated. I told everyone if anyone guessed what the wine was, dinner was on me. After a few near-misses, The Chairman was honing in, so I decided to reveal it was a 1979 Petrus. This was a gorgeous bottle with an open nose full of chocolate. There was ‘a big, bold finish’ per someone or another, and its foreground was satiny, round and smooth. Mints, olives and other usual Petrus friends joined this party (95).

We had a couple more Ganbeis revisiting some of the Bordeaux, then a couple of Jaboulet Hermitage La Chapelles. The 1989 was a dirty birdie (92) and the 1990 was jammy, chewy, friendly and zippy, one of the better bottles of this that I have had recently (94).

Oh yeah, we had some 2001 Yquem. Although I rarely drink sweet wine, that one rocks (98+).

I’m not sure how I managed to have lunch the next day, but the fact that it was at Marea helped. The Artist Formerly Known as Dr. Vino plucked a delicious 2012 Pierre-Yves Colin-Morey off the list, and I felt better again. I can’t remember which wine it was, but they are all good from this up-and-coming Burgundy star.

For those of you that really pay attention to what I write, you may remember a group from Hong Kong called the AlcoholiHKs. Well, one of their Chief Drinking Officers was in town, so we two CDOs got together at Sparks, since he wanted a great American steakhouse. Since I was out Monday with the Hedonist, Tuesday with The Chairman and Wednesday again, dinner was at 5:30. If I wasn’t home by 7:30, I think I might have gotten a homemade vasectomy. So we shared a single bottle, a reasonable 2004 Montrose off the list. It was big and brawny, a bit tight at first, showing more oak than anything else. With some air, and some steak, it settled down into another drinkable ’04, solid but not earthshaking (90).

A couple of days later, I was lucky enough to catch The Zen Master while he transcended through New York City. The Zen Master is also a wine master, so there was only one place to take him: Charlie Bird. We warmed up with a 2007 Raveneau Chablis Montee de Tonnerre. It was quintessential Chablis; the ultimate starter wine. It drank like silk embroidered with exotic sea shells and minerals. There was smack to its lemony, tangy palate, and enough length to get into the serious class (94).

1983 Guigal Cote Rotie La Mouline. When it comes to the La la’s, there is no doubt that the La Mouline rules the roost, although any given Sunday, La Turque or La Landonne can of course steal the show. I doubt anything could show much better than this ’83. It was a great bottle, showing everything that La Mouline wants to give. Its nose was deep and dark, full of purple, violet and black fruit. Bacon, pepper and that Rhone hot rock spice simmered throughout the wine. This was big, rich yet deft, an agile wine on a heavyweight level (97).

There was one more wine on our menu, although we probably could have done without. Yeah right, it was a 2002 Rousseau Chambertin. 2002 has always been a darling vintage of mine, but it is starting to join my favorite camp. Dare I say greater than 1999 or 2005 as far as Red Burgundy vintages go? If we are talking pleasure right now, it is tough to argue against the 2002, and it still has a long way to go. There was flesh to the usual musk, wet bamboo and cherry fruit. It was open and singing, singular in its powerful terroir, and long with its acidity. This was a great wine, a definitive knockout blow (96).

Three of my favorite restaurants in NYC (Bouley, Marea and Charlie Bird) along with three of my favorite friends in HK made for three of my favorite things last week, all here in New York City. When it comes to fine wine, invasions are welcome.

There was a time in the wine world when the most expensive wine in the world was Chateau d’Yquem. It was more expensive than the First Growths or Romanee-Conti, and it was the most prestigious and highly regarded wine in the world.

It still is highly regarded, considered by a healthy majority to be the greatest sweet wine in the world, but sweet wine does not hold the same weight in the market place it did 100+ years ago. Palates have changed, and a spoonful of sugar doesn’t always help the medicine go down. In fact, too much sugar might require the need for some Tums or Pepto.

The 1989 Chateau d’Yquem had the darkest color of the first four, suggesting a faster maturity curve, meaning drink up by 2050 lol. Strangely enough, there were more slate and rock aromas (suggesting youth), but that nutty, marzipan goodness was still there. This was a very musky wine, ‘more open and evolved’ per the Copperhead. Its palate was creamier, sweeter and more congenial than the 1990. It was honeyed with layers of caramel flavors, and so good now. This is THE vintage of great, young Yquem to drink, possibly over the next two decades (96).

The 1983 d’Yquem also had a deeper color a la 1989, a veritable sibling. There was smoke and cement in the nose, along with honey and caramel. Open orange flavors were supported by creamsicle ones. There was less purity to its sweetness as it was a bit tangy, make that very tangy. Its lemony finish dominated its palate, so much so that it left a sour impression. Some food cut the sourness, but the ’83 remained a bit wild, weedy and tangy. It was another vintage that didn’t live up to its reputation, or its rating that everyone relies on (93).

The next Yquem was quite exotic, possessing more mango and passion fruit. The 1976 d’Yquem reeked of decadence and pleasure. This was a heavy and thick Yquem, quite sexy, opulent and more concentrated. Someone likened it to the 1989, and this was certainly an extroverted Yquem. There was less vim on its finish than the top-tiered vintages, but it is ‘not gonna go away’ either (95).

The 1970 d’Yquem was leaner than the ’71, but in the same category qualitatively. There were more cedar, mahogany and wood qualities, along with a great minerality. It felt younger than the ’71, but it wasn’t as opulent. This reminded me of the 1979 with its earthy, long palate (94).

There’s Iron Man, and then there is Gold Man. He found the 1967 d’Yquem ‘where old and new meet,’ and he was right. This was the vintage where you felt that perfect balance between youth and maturity. I guess 46 years old is about right ha ha. The ’67 was so decadent and sweet, with its sugar qualities browning in a good way. It was definitely more mature than anything so far (duh), but it was still so good, and great dust and mineral flavors were on its finish. Its acid was still deceptively strong. This was a hedonistic Yquem that will still age forever (97).

The 1966 d’Yquem had vitamins in its nose, along with rose and potpourri. This was another Yquem in the more exotic category. There were a hint of bathroom flavors in that potpourri direction, but this was a solid Yquem (93).

There were six vintages to go, and four of them were legendary, the first of which was the 1959 d’Yquem. Its nose was all about the caramel, more críÂme caramel than any other wine before. Its texture was perfect, with great balance between its oil and cut. It was so delicious in a just right spot. Its acid was mid-level, and ‘great’ and ‘superb’ kept coming up in my notes. There was ‘a lot of sugar’ here from this hot vintage, but it didn’t come across overly sweet (98).

The last flight was comprised of three of the greatest vintages of Yquem…ever. In fact, I think if you took a five year window, you would not find a better trio of Yquem…ever. We began this climactic finish with the 1949 d’Yquem. There was a divine nose here with amber love, butterscotch and butter rum. Its nose was perfectly suntanned, and there was that caramel greatness a la the ’59, but this was heavier. In the end, I preferred the cleanliness of the ’59 by comparison, but that would be splitting hairs. The 1949 was like a bottle of rum raisin with a side of yo ho ho (97).

Sweet is better than sour, and when it comes to Yquem, I can safely say ‘pour some sugar on me.’