Far, far away in a remote corner of the world lies a cellar so incredible, so deep and so massive that only one word could describe it ”“ forbidden. Most mortals will never get to sample even a handful of the wines buried away in this constantly growing collection. 100,000 bottles is a very conservative estimate, but even more impressive than the quantity was the quality of what I experienced. The dinner I had recently was worth a lifetime of travel; thankfully, I didn’t need a visa, and diplomatic immunity was provided. History often rewrites itself, but this was an evening which could never be changed. Everything was perfect; the wine, the food, the company – is there anything else that life requires?

As always, Champagne was the way with which we started, beginning with a NV Jacques Selosses Contraste Brut. Selosses is a true grower champagne and also biodynamic, I was told. The Contraste was aggressive in its nose in an alluring fashion. The palate was full bodied, clearly an ode to its 100% pinot noir composition. Big and brawny, it pleasingly overflowed with fresh citrus and racy strawberry flavors. I recently did an evening of Selosses Champagnes, over twenty-five of them as a matter of fact. We had multiple versions of Contraste (ie different disgorgement dates) , as well as other MV (multi-vintage) Selosses concoctions, and my assessment of them is that these MV bottlings don’t improve with age. They are delicious, unique and enjoyable right away, but the vintage Champagnes are the ones that improve in extraordinary fashion. Unfortunately, there are so few of the vintage bottlings that the world doesn’t really know Selosses. He is a true Champagne genius, but his insistence on making the majority of his bottlings solera-style and multi-vintage is hurting his legacy and denying much of the world his brilliance (93).

A rare 1990 Dom Perignon Reserve de l’Abbaye drew us deeper into this mysterious evening. I had no idea what was in store upon my arrival, and I certainly had no idea what this bottling was. I soon learned that it was a special bottling from Moet specifically for the tastes of the Japanese market. On a sliding ‘mousse’ scale, this was less bubbly than most and felt on the light side. It was clean and sweeter in a way that reminded me of a cremant style, but it was a bit saccharin-y. We clinked our glasses together in appreciation of the experience (90).

There were only two white Burgundies in our lineup, but it might as well have only been one. Our first was one from a master, a wine that even I rarely encounter. I think I have had this wine on only two other occasions, and that includes every vintage ever made. There is only one barrel made of this wine every year, and the 1992 Leflaive Montrachet lived up to the hype. While many 1992s are riding off into the sunset, this 1992 was still ascending. It had an amazing nose that gave off seductive signals of butter, citrus and yeast. Smoke and exotic spice followed. Its spice qualities kept unfolding, so diverse that this wine was worthy of its own supermarket section. This was a mesmerizing Montrachet that was rich, clean and vivacious. There is no doubt that Leflaive is the king of the ring for the 1992 vintage, make that queen. The acidity was still fresh, and this thick, attention-grabbing wine just kept getting better and better and better and better (98).

With a 1961 Palmer, the gates of Bordeaux were thrust open. Our host called it ‘very Burgundian,’ and indeed it was. Its fruit was so sensual and tender, with citrus, cherry and carob each content with their own space on this classic wine’s aroma wheel. On the palate, this bottle had a soft yet voluptuous nature to it with smooth flavors of carob, citrus, and tenderly aged fruit. It was a bit easier than I remembered this wine being but still divine. The effects of our host’s generous hospitality were comfortably sinking in by now (95).

We were treated to another wine from this legendary vintage, this time a 1961 Haut Brion. Perfection came to mind, as this bottle was as perfect as it could be. Of course, those of you that have been reading my notes for many years know that I only believe in the pursuit of perfection, as opposed to perfection itself. This bottle was perfect in that I do not think more enjoyment could be had from any bottle of this wine, anywhere/anyhow. Aromas sprang from the glass; this was oozing coffee, chocolate, carob, and wafer. There was also great spice, and classic yet light slate and gravel to this rich, saucy nose. Velvety richness followed suit on the palate, which was delectably dense and had a mouthfeel that made me moan in ecstasy. Damn, this was good and ‘perfect,’ too (98).

We had forgotten our other 1992 white, a 1992 Jadot Chevalier Montrachet Demoiselles. It served the purpose of a refreshing, midday shower, preparing us for the rest of our meal, also the rest of our day. Its nose gave off a very exotic perfume of floral spice, citrus and something reminiscent of Chinese tea and fortune cookies. The palate was framed with stone roses around its edges, finishing with an interwoven stream of honey and delicate tropical fruit (93).

We had to have at least one red Burgundy on this increasingly magical evening, so why not a 1966 La Tache. True to form, it was a touch dirty as ’66 LT is prone to be. While a bit earthy, the nose was still fabulous and provided rich tomato, spice, leather and chocolaty aromas. Flavors of cherry oil and assorted nuts lingered, and this class act’s finish was endearing (95).

The last two wines of our evening were perfect strangers, brought together by fate and the Forbidden Cellar. We soared to new heights with the 1945 Mouton Rothschild that followed. This was everything this bottle was supposed to be, as sexy as sexy can be. Menthol, mint, and olive wafted from its beguiling nose. The palate was rich yet so smooth. It wowed with its cedar spice. It was delicate yet forceful, with light leather flavors. Meaty and spectacular, this wine was as rewarding as they come, delivering rich and fleshy caramel flavors on the finish with divine forest edges. It was absolutely delicious, an anywhere, anytime bottle (99).

There aren’t many wines that can follow a ’45 Mouton in fine fashion, but that’s exactly what the 1961 Jaboulet Hermitage La Chapelle did. Wow, I had finally had this great wine again. The nose on this thoroughbred had coffee and royal garden intermingled with Indian spice and sumptuous dark chocolate. The palate was rich and thick with loads and layers of roasted black and purple fruit flavors. Unique oil and citrus qualities tickled on its long, lingering finish. It took the concentration up a notch. Yummmmm (99).

Every bottle was in great condition and delivered everything one could want from these wines. While there are no plans for the Forbidden Cellar to sell anytime soon, I can safely say that I will be visiting it often. But you’ll have to kill me first before I let you know where it is!

It is another exciting weekend here in Hong Kong. This September sale is a microcosm for the Acker world right now, East meeting West, two of the greatest cellars from opposite sides of the world coming together in one spectacular auction. Last night, we celebrated with wines from our ‘East’ collection, what is to our knowledge the largest collection of wine ever offered from a Chinese collector. Times they are a changin’, and we are excited to be at the forefront of it all.

We had three incredible Champagnes as cocktails, a 1976 Lanson (94), 1961 Mumm’s (94) and a 1929 Pommery. The Lanson and Mumm’s were both excellent and still fresh, but the Pommery was an out-of-body experience. There were no bubbles left in this magical Champagne, but that didn’t matter. This was like a great old Montrachet, except better. It was so rich yet so tender, voluptuous yet svelte, rich yet delicate. Its sweetness was perfect, and it lingered like a great sunset. Whoever thinks Champagne cannot age as long as red wine needs to have a bottle of this. It was unreal (98).

We sat down to some reds, where we had a Noah’s Ark procession of First Growths. We began with 1989 Haut Brion, which is the equivalent of Albert Pujols batting leadoff. I happened to have this wine last week as well (I love it when that happens), and both bottles were equally great. Great was actually an understatement. How’s this for a different statement ”“ when all is said and done, the 1989 Haut Brion could possibly be the greatest First Growth ever made, and how ironic would that be since Haut Brion tends to lag a little behind the other Firsts as far as overall perception. The 1989 was fabulous with aromas of peanut, olive and densely packed cassis fruit. It was chewy, nutty and long, tickling my tongue and warming my soul. Its balance and length defined ‘thoroughbred.’ The greatest thing about this wine is that it has never shut down; it has always been incredible (99).

The 1982 Haut Brion was outstanding but no match for the 1989. There was a bit more green in its nose, along with what I call ‘fireplace’ aromas. Cinnamon and crackling wood danced about. The palate was long with flavors of ceramic, spice and more cinnamon, along with ‘jasmine’ per The Poet. It was just a touch out of balance on its finish, although I think it was only made evident by the 1989’s near-perfection (95).

1982 Latour transitioned us to Pauillac, and also offered a 1982 comparison. Its deep, dark, brooding nose spoke seriously, and aromas of minerals and walnuts were like armed guards for this important wine. Its nose was like a black forest of fruit, and it was perfectly toasted. The palate was long, cedary and clearly special, with outstanding acidity. Its finish was thick and oh so long, still a bit closed but showing nothing but strength. Despite its strength, it was also superbly fine in its length. It was another world-class claret (98+).

The 1990 Latour was quite the contrast to the 1982. It has always been an open and flamboyant Latour, one that I have consistently loved. Its nose was seductive, full of olives and flesh. Its palate was a bit beany at first, not overly though. This bottle was a bit more tannic than I remember the last couple of occasions that I have had it. There were rich, olive flavors and kinky, wild fruit. While the 1982 was a textbook Latour fit for a University degree, the 1990 wanted to party all night long (96).

1990 Margaux was next, are you figuring out the path to the puzzle? This was a thrilling bottle of 1990, which has been inconsistent and sometimes disappointing. This bottle was open and singing. Vincent found it ‘very elegant and silky.’ It had a pinch of green bean in what can best be described as ‘green game.’ It was a good thing. The nose was so fine it would make any construction worker whistle. The palate was long and fine as well, but there was still meat on these bones, and its acidity was superb (96).

The 1996 Margaux that followed was so different in style. The ’96 jumped out of the glass with lots of powerful chocolate and caramel, followed by a hint of medicine, which became amplified with some time. However, the medicine came and thankfully went. There were loads of tannins and alcohol here. The 1996 was incredibly long, but a bit dormant at the moment (95+).

Enter 1996 Lafite Rothschild. If there is a vintage of Lafite that is undervalued, it is certainly the 1996. I have always loved this Lafite and found it to be amongst their finest vintages”¦ever. The nose was full of deep, dark cassisy fruit. The Poet marveled at its concentration, also finding its ‘tannins so fresh.’ This wine was red carpet fabulous. An exotic mix of deep bouillon, chalkboard and dank fruit made for a mouthwatering mix (98)

The 1986 Lafite Rothschild was much finer than the 1996. There was nice spice and lots of cedar in its nose. It was long, fine and with great acidity, but it seemed minor after the major 1996 (94).

The 1986 Mouton Rothschild brought it back up a level, or three. It was indeed great, very classic but also smoky. Its fruit was inky and frighteningly young, almost 1996 Lafite-ish. The palate was thick and tannic, also inky. This wine is a monster that will outlive everything else from the vintage, and many younger ones, too (97+).

1995 Mouton Rotschild snuck in our evening thanks to the 1995 Le Pin that followed. Let me know if you don’t understand why! It was clean and elegant, but a different tier than the rest of the wines on this starry night. I couldn’t spend too much time with it (93).

The 1995 Le Pin was kinky and open, full of coconut, plum and fig in its nose. It was exotic as usual, a bit smoky, like Kobe beef meets royal garden. It gave me a deep, wet kiss of chocolate, and the palate was equally as kinky. Vincent found it ‘similar to Screaming Eagle, I call it a steel magnolia, this beautiful, scented steel nose.’ I was still on my kinky kick, but that is nothing new (94).

We closed this magical evening with something with a little more bottle age, a 1970 Petrus. It had that same figgy, coconutty kink as the Le Pin, along with chocolate and rye bread aromas. The aromas then morphed into an incredible blue cheese quality that was confirmed by Sebastien, our token Frenchman. We could taste the blue cheese too! It was quite cheesy, but sooooo good. It was rich and delicious, ‘not a fair fight,’ due to the extra age. Someone noted ‘minty chocolate’ (95).

It was an incredible night from an incredible cellar. Tonight, we celebrate the West, stay tuned

Hey everyone, hope your summer was both relaxing and rewarding. I know it’s been a while since I wrote some solid tasting notes, apologies. I most definitely have been drinking, so don’t cry for me just yet. When you do as much business in six months as you did in the previous twelve, it’s a bit intense. And this Fall is going to be pretty close as well. Long live wine.

A record setting year is worthy of numerous recordable events full of long-lived wines, and I will be catching up a lot on the year’s most noteworthy events in the coming weeks. For no particular reason, I will begin with a lunch in Hong Kong. This was a lunch to which I was looking very forward, a showdown between the Right Bank’s five biggest names from three consecutive vintages, 2000, 2001 and 2002.

The 2002 Cheval Blanc began with a beautiful nose. It immediately struck Gil and I that 2002 was a delightful ‘drinking’ vintage, aka a vintage that drinks well in its youth. Some immediate satisfaction can be a good thing. Any top Chateau in Bordeaux will make wines that age twenty years, no matter what the quality of the vintage, and that was quite evident with the ’02 Cheval. It had a great nose full of cedar, nuts, smoke, minerals and a hint of glaze. Olive crept out as well. The palate had nice flesh and flavors of green bean and stalk. It was pleasant, balanced and long. It gained in the glass and closed the initial gap between it and the 2001, which was still the better wine (93).

The 2001 Cheval Blanc was more aromatic and perfumed, dancing in the nose with its great floral components. It was open and saucy, layered with enthusiastic sprinkles of spice. The palate came across just as densely as the nose indicated. It was chunky, chocolaty and more concentrated than the 2002. Vincent, aka ‘The Poet’ remarked, ‘its structure is so good, yet it’s also silkier than the 2000.’ Gil was energetically in the 2001 camp already (94)

2000 Cheval Blanc was the only wine that could finish this flight properly, and indeed it did. The level of freshness and depth was miles ahead of the previous two, its freshness ahead in a penetrating way. It was so fine and long. I loved the depth in the nose, where multiple flavors were singing loudly. Its rich, long palate was both fine and deep, with an edgy, sandy swagger. ‘Elegant, fine, long, fine, fresh’ all appeared repeatedly in my notes. Its finish had a lift that the others didn’t. The Poet decreed, ‘fantastic tannins, and the fruit is there’ (96).

It was now Ausone’s turn, beginning with the 2002 Ausone. The nose was much more concentrated, really dense, rich and saucy. There was a little animal and horse around the edges, and also a quality that was not dill, not citrus and not rosemary, but somehow a hybrid of the three. It was a big wine in the mouth, heavy, concentrated and thick. I preferred the Cheval, as the Ausone was drier and cedary, and it also had thinner flavors. Gil commented, ‘freshly carved roast beef’ but also conceded a ‘watery element in the middle.’ Vincent added, ‘fresh water lilies’ (91).

Gil opened the discussion on the 2001 Ausone with ‘back road Pennsylvania iron works deer hunter,’ perhaps reminiscing about his youth :). I liked the ‘01 much more, as it was more classic in the nose, full of ceramic crispness as well as great length and penetration. Aromas of mint, fir and chocolate glaze danced around its meaty core. The palate was fine, stylish and long, possessing that Cheval elegance despite it being all Ausone. It was crisp but also possessed that same cedary flavor that marred the ’02, although the ’01 kept it more in check(93).

The 2000 Ausone was likened to a ‘Tahiti beach’ with its very exotic nose. There were definite sunscreen and cocoa butter aromas, wrapped around a cedary centerpoint. While it was clearly the best of the three wines, all of the Ausones were quite similar in their personality and power, more similar than I would have expected given the diversity of style of these three consecutive vintages. Much to my surprise, three out of four in attendance preferred the Ausone to the Cheval! I was a bit surprised, as I clearly preferred the Cheval across the board (94).

While Ausone took an early lead amongst the awakening palates of our group, I was pretty sure that would change quickly, as flights of Lafleur, Petrus and Le Pin were next. The 2002 Lafleur was fresh and a real change of pace, clearly from a different territory. Gil observed ‘earthiness’ and ‘vertesse,’ aka a slight green. Alex noted ‘white pepper.’ It had a framework of cedar around a super deep plummy core. The Poet admired the ‘freshness of earth’ that climbed out of the terroir into our glasses. Its palate was thick, possessing hints of coffee grinds. This first Lafleur was long, earthy, full and big, and the least approachable 2002 so far. Its acidity really lingered; it possessed grip without length of tannins, however. ‘Rust’ came from the crowd. I vascillated between 92 and 93 points (92+).

The 2001 Lafleur had a kinky nose, very tropical with its sweet orange, citrus, passion and wild fruit aromas. I also loved the many shades of purple in its nose, which were deep and plentiful. The palate was rich, but more shut down than I remember. It was cleaner than the 2002, and despite it being shut down on the palate (for now), it was all there. The acidity lifted the wine up after some time, allowing a peek into what will be (95).

The2000 Lafleur was a WOW wine, clearly the most layered and exotic. The nose was deep and thick, a veritable Pomerol phenomenon. Hints of beef and plum rounded out its chunky soup nose. The 2000’s palate was also a bit shut down, but the 2000 couldn’t be contained like the ‘01. Rich, long and great, the ’00 possessed delectable supporting flavors of citrus, beef and dust. It told a glorious, long story on the finish, going on and on so elegantly. ‘Wow’ graced my notes again, along with a ‘roasted/grilled goodness.’ The 2000 Lafleur was strength without muscle, powerful yet deft, with the potential to age for decades (97).

The Petrus was certainly not afraid of the big, bad Lafleur, and the 2002 Petrus quickly showed why. It was the best of the 2002 bunch (what else is new). Fresh aromas of garden tickled my nose at first. It seemingly had great everything – fruit, spice, tang, sweet citrus, a hint of game and a ‘so sexy’ perfume. Alex agreed with me, hailing it ‘clearly the best of 02.’ Flavors of garden, pungent flower and great spice rounded out this beauty (94).

The 2001 Petrus was reserved and stylish. Gil was taken aback by its depth, declaring, ‘my word’ about it. There was more noticeable tannin here, yet it was still so fine. The 2002 was more showy, but the ’01 kept getting finer, like a beautiful woman slowly walking towards you from afar. Aromas of chocolate and secondary candle wax stood out, and the alcohol was also more noticeable. It got sweeter in the glass, and there was no doubting its greatness and potential. The 2002 was closer in quality than expected, though (95).

The 2000 Petrus was the wine of the day so far, without a doubt. There was so much more concentration than anything else. There were lots of wows, oohs and aahs around the room. It was deep with big fruit, like this exotic sweet berry oatmeal that said good morning in the perfect way on the perfect day. It was long and sexy with a beefy edge, and the wine didn’t budge in the glass, holding its ground longer than I could keep it out of my mouth (99).

Le Pin was the way we decided to end our afternoon, and the 2002 Le Pin jumped out of the glass with its tropical, exotic and unique personality. Its nose was penetrating and exciting. Then again, isn’t penetration always exciting? There were lots of dust, plum, citrus and spice aromas. The palate possessed richness and concentration, as well as exotic, sweet, fleshy, gorgeous, sexy flavors. Gil found it ‘more powerful’ and observed that it had the ‘longest time out of the bottle’ as well, perhaps opening its doors a bit more than those of the wines served earlier. The ’02 Le Pin was definitely singing and another impressively approachable 2002 (93).

My notes were starting to wane, and shockingly so did the last two wines. The 2001 Le Pin was spicy and fresh, possessing that flowery, exotic style, with a hint more wood than the 2002. I didn’t like the ‘01 at all after the ’02; it was thinner and simple (91?).

The 2000 Le Pin was no amazing grace either. Its nose was a combination of cat box and mango juice, and not much more. It was smooth and a bit kinky, but either the bottle was completely shut down or ‘off.’ Feng Shui Tony also found it ‘very disappointing’ (90?).

While the finish was a bit anti-climactic, this tasting was quite dramatic overall. It was a glimpse into early greatness, a fascinating comparison of both producer and vintage. In the end, almost 3 out of 5 tasters preferred Petrus. Some things never change.

When something of this magnitude occurs, people love to talk, so I thought I would speak a bit more myself about the Imperial Cellar and what went into making a catalogue of this magnitude.

We always take the utmost care in our consignment process, but in order to produce the greatest wine sale in Asian history, it was decided to take near-extreme measures to ensure that only the top quality was represented in a carefully constructed, detailed catalogue. It also made me, as a merchant, comfortable that I would be selling a product that not only meets, but indeed exceeds the market’s standards and expectations.

For a long time, I have been bothering the owner of the Imperial Cellar to sell from his collection; the response was always the same, ‘No, I am not selling.’ Again and again I would knock on the door, a bit louder each time. The answer was again the same, occasionally I would get, ‘I really like you, but I am not selling!’ A glass or ten was shared over the period of a couple years, and then one day I received an answer to my question that I no longer expected, ‘Ok, I will sell some.’

It was our vision to produce the greatest auction catalogue ever produced. This was no easy task. First, the collection had to be appraised. Weeks of work went into carefully analyzing recent market trends and results in the beginning, and an appraisal was generated towards the end of 2009. Three months later, with so much change and growth taking place in the marketplace, I did it again. For an entire week, I sat glued to my computer, day and night, capturing the market in real-time. It was a massive amount of data. I most definitely needed a drink every night that week!

Then it came time to go on location and inventory the cellar firsthand. A first pass was done on all the older and most significant wines by one of our independent consultants. I made a similar pass-through myself. I catalogued the most important wines first-hand. Once the wines were shipped back to New York, we had another third party consultant look at the wines to validate our work on the 19,000+ bottles. I could not be more confident in what is on offer. The owner of the Imperial Cellar was insistent that every bottle represent the highest quality possible out of his cellar, which is why we went through this extensive and additional process.

Working on the catalog was my version of giving birth this year, and the research put into it was like no other before. Crafting the sale order felt like my greatest masterpiece, and the introductions that came along with them took multiple rounds of edits and revisions. It is something of which I am very proud.
There was other help as well. Chateaux and Domaines were also contacted directly for important questions, and only positive feedback was received. Martine Saunier, the legendary US importer of Jayer, joined us for dinner in the home of the owner of the Imperial Cellar, for a magical evening of five fabulous wines from Henri Jayer. Before we drank, we looked at many wines from Jayer, and there were no issues brought up by Martine for wines she saw that were selected for the sale. The wines at dinner were, of course, magnificent (see notes later!). Speaking of which, this is an Acker auction, and you know wine is as important to us to drink as it is to sell. And drink we have. Many of you already know who the owner of the Imperial Cellar is, as he has been here with us in Asia opening up dozens of bottles from his cellar to share with everyone. In fact, close to USD$400,000 worth of superb wines will be opened here in Hong Kong before the end of this weekend courtesy of both of us; sixty-one cases in total. At Acker Merrall, we like to put our money where our mouth is. Everyone else is just mouth.

The owner of the Imperial Cellar also wanted to make sure everyone had the opportunity to taste for themselves the quality of what The Imperial Cellar is all about. It is this type of generosity that is yet another reason that this is arguably the greatest collection of all-time.

I know I haven’t been sending many tasting notes of late, even though I have still been taking many notes these past three months. This catalog is the reason why. After two weeks of events here in Asia already, I felt motivated to share a few with you. The first batch of notes began chez Imperial Cellar itself.

It started innocently enough with one bottle, one whose cork was a bit sunken although everything else for the bottle looked good, including its color. This 1945 Cheval Blanc was just begging to be consumed. It is only fitting that all these tastings would commence with Hong Kong’s own Good Doctor, who was in the States for a quick visit. Its sweet tang, old book and rusticity were accompanied by citrus sprinkles and back of the throat spice. ‘Powerful’ came from the crowd; that, of course, is 1945. In the glass it became velvety and lush, and everything was off to a good start (96).

Another dinner had us sipping on 1953 Canon. It was another beautiful, old bottle, full of autumnal but still red fruits. Hints of forest, chocolate and graham rounded out its delectable nose. The palate was a touch drier in its personality and had less fruit, but it still possessed nice acidity and a long and tender finish. ‘Supreme elegance’ came from Wolfgang, as well as ‘all 1953s are sweet’ from none other than Bipin Desai. Two significant seals of approval, indeed (93).

While working in the cellar, we drank a few goodies, but I was a bit careless in my notes. Three wines stood out in my memory, however, including arguably the greatest white wine that I have ever had. I don’t even know what else to say about the 1996 D’Auvenay (Leroy) Chevalier Montrachet. It was beyond incredible, in a place where words no longer have enough meaning to share the experience. Its aromas, texture, concentration, acidity and length were about as close to a perfect combination as one can find in a white wine. I can still taste it two months later (99) .

A 1998 Leroy Musigny was stellar. Its concentration transcended the vintage; 1998s do not have this kind of weight in general. Welcome to the magical world of Leroy, where amplitude rules, but terroir is not sacrificed. Its Musigny side came through with its graceful fruit flavors, which were a bit redder than I expected, which is not a bad thing. This was still a big wine, but somehow it danced, and the rest of the room stopped to watch (96).

A rare 1955 Lamarche La Grande Rue we drank for fun, and it delivered a smile. I don’t think we are offering any of this wine, so apologies in advance. It was in its sunset, full of delightful brown sugar sweetness and flavors, backed by earth, tobacco and citrus. It was mature, but still delicious (95).

Our biggest treat from the cellar was a night of Henri Jayer in the middle of our travails, five wines to be exact. Dinner was with Martine Saunier, who helped us sort some important facts and details about Henri Jayer, as well as inspecting numerous vintages with us.

We began with a 1985 Jayer Echezeaux, whose nose was all Jayer, all the way. ‘Fantastic fragrance,’ cooed Martine. Aromas of deep purple lilacs, flowers and fruits opened the door to a big, rich palate. It was a touch cold coming straight from the cellar, muting its finish at first, but after twenty minutes of air, its acidity started to sizzle. Musk, jasmine and other secondary spices emerged. Its perfume got sexier and sexier, and its finish got bigger and bigger. Mint, slate, forest, and all about the purple were other notes I took. Gil likened the ‘depth of nose sung like Madame Pompadou herself’ (96).

The 1988 Jayer Echezeaux was equally as impressive, but stylistically different. It had so much fruit for 1988, and Martine likened it to ‘a blossoming flower.’ This sang even louder in its nose. It, too, had that signature purple sexy back, along with musk, perfume, Asian spice and forest. A hint of mahogany cabinetry balanced out its enormous sweetness. It was meatier, bigger and brawnier than the ’85, and its sweet, musky, minty and thick finish were all that and then some (96).

A 1995 Jayer Vosne Romanee Les Beaumonts was a bit tight; its acid and youthful personality were almost beastly after the previous two wines. Its nose was rusty, spiny and cedary, typical 1995. Its nose bordered on pungent, black fruits were underneath, and that sweet Jayer sex appeal was lurking in the background. It was ‘more masculine and brutish’ per Gil, and its flavors were cedary and its finish huge. Secondary aromas and flavors of ceramics, coffee and herbal celery root came out to play. It was clear this wine wasn’t quite ready for us, and that we were disturbing it, but one had to respect it (93).

Ooh la la, ah oui oui. The 1999 Jayer Vosne Romanee Cros Parantoux redefined the word sexy. Martine hailed it as a ‘wild beast,’ and Gil observed, ‘gunpowder and Chinese black oolong tea.’ There was an ocean of fruit here; one had to swim through it to find structure on its shores. This was 1999 at its finest. The pitch was insane, shattering my nose as if it was meant to be an ear drum, and its perfume lingered like memories of a perfect home-cooked meal from Mom. While adolescent, its creamy, purple fruit said it was ready for the draft, and its nose was described as ‘fireworks,’ a ‘chameleon,’ and ‘spearmint.’ Thierry hailed it as ‘brighter, better and fresher’ than the great 1990, a bold statement, indeed. Its flavors were dessert-y without being sweet ”“ decadent, exotic, hedonistic, take your pick. Gil observed, ‘caramel crème brulee,’ and beef and citrus tried to join the party. This wine was bordering on pornographic, and we were all”¦in awe 🙂 (98).

Oops, I guess I should have updated my previous 96+ score in the catalog. Oh, well.

The last wine on this magical night was a 1993 Henri Jayer Vosne Romanee Cros Parantoux. Its deep, rusty nose was ‘Chambertin-like,’ per Gil, and Martine and our host immediately seconded that notion. It had that cedar and forest of Chambertin with a hint of sulfur. Thierry fell in love all over again; you know how French guys are lol. Its minerals and slate were impressively 1993. Its palate was thick and penetrating, and it kept opening in the glass. Its raw materials were unbelievable; black fruits, desert flavors, limestone kink and pure power came together as a ‘Brutus Opulentus,’ Gil mused. This was serious stuff (96+).

Well, that was a great night, and more would soon follow. The rest of the events were here in Asia, amongst the cities of Hong Kong, Shanghai and Beijing. Unfortunately I am out of time, so here is the very, very, very happy and abbreviated recap:

2000 Bordeaux Blind in Hong Kong

We did the same tasting back to back nights in Hong Kong and Shanghai and pitted the palates of these two great cities together against one another. Votes were taken at the end of each night with 5 points being awarded to first-place and one point to fifth-place. Over 60 people partook in HK; over 30 in Shanghai. My scores are in parentheses after the group’s favorites.