I was on the road for two weeks since the day after the Golden Cellar auction, and it has been a bit relentless. Post-auction action is always a bit hectic, as was starting to make the November auction simultaneously, as well as packing up our first million-dollar cellar for 2008 already. It’s a beauty. November’s sale, though, is ridiculous. It should be our fourth largest auction ever. These are amazing times. Mark you calendar for the next Acker tripleheader, where you can expect plenty of imbibing a la my last Vintage Tastings article. November 29th and 30th will be a double evening sale extravaganza at CRU, and Saturday, December 1st will be our holiday BYO bash. I think I should start taking some hangover helper now, but I digress.

Part of my travels had me in Los Angeles for a couple days to experience yet another spectacular ‘Bipin Weekend,’ this time featuring the wines of Cheval Blanc back to 1921, with Pierre Lurton on hand to guide us. I will hopefully get to that write up next week. I wish I had more time in LA this trip to see more people but did not, and the November auction catalog dominated every second of my day. I did escape for a couple of non-Bipin dinners around his events, which I am about to get to.

There has been a lot of discussion about counterfeit wines this year, both in the media and amongst wine lovers and collectors around the world, and it seems to be intensifying, which is a good thing in many regards. Lawsuits are being filed, and even the FBI is working on trying to root out the original sources for what fakes are out there, most of which are believed to have originated in Europe. The finest Chateaux and Domaines are finally understanding that they have to take additional steps to ensure that their product can be identifiable in signature ways (such as subtle glass, cork and label markings) and therefore more difficult to counterfeit in the future. They have to; the best wines are all going to be $1000 a bottle upon release soon, and many of them already are in the great vintage of 2005. These are now luxury goods, and luxury goods get counterfeited. Go on Ebay or take a trip down to Canal Street and see how many ‘Hermes’ handbags you can pick up on the cheap.

There seems to be a bit of paranoia, though, in the marketplace in regard to old wines, even when authentic, and there are many out there who, without foundation, have decided that every old and rare wine is possibly fake. Yes, counterfeit wines are a problem, but many are throwing out the babies with the bath water. We reject our share of bottles, but it is far from an epidemic, and certain ‘experts’ are trying to re-establish their relevance in the marketplace and diminish what everyone else is doing. Casting stones is nothing new in this industry; I choose to rest my pitching arm for the actual game. It is easy to say something is fake and give the appearance of knowledge, but it is much more satisfying to sell and drink the real stuff.

Authenticating wine can be challenging for many older wines. There is a lot of gray area for pre-1982 wines. Wine was not a big business until the past decade; many of the world’s best wines were made by farmers who did not think about the consequences of inconsistent labeling or branding of corks that can be so troubling today. Many of the best producers and negociants like Nicolas reconditioned stock from their cellars, giving old wines new appearances. Pandora’s box was opened right then and there, and that is where opportunity knocked on the door of the few that started to counterfeit wines in the first place. Another thing that is not uncommon that might induce suspicion is to see a 750ml label on a magnum bottle of Burgundy, Rhone or Barolo. Many producers just didn’t want to bother with the expense and hassle of making a magnum label and chose to sell these magnums out their back door. I could go on. All Iknow is that I relentlessly drink these older wines that we sell at our auctions, in public events, with those that buy them from me, and there are very rarely any issues. That makes me feel good. In a world of gray, no one can be picture perfect, but I can’t help but appreciate all the color that seems to open itself up around me”¦

”¦which brings me to my recent trip to LA and a quiet night with one of my fellow enthusiasts and Mr. Wine Vegas, aka Gil. I suppose it never is a quiet night when one of my fellow enthusiasts is on the scene, and I was soon reminded of this fact when he pulled out a trio of wines from his bag, beginning with a 1919 Romanee Conti. It was a 6cm fill bottle, a tad low by most standards, so a close friend of mine figured it would be fun to try and test my newfound infatuation with low-fill Burgundies. This bottle was consistent with the ones that I have seen and sold over the past year; same glass, same branding on the cork, so that was good, but I must admit that I had a bit of trepidation as it was being opened. What if all these bottles were fake all along? Even I can get a bit paranoid, as I am sure some annoyed consignors will attest to. Then, something happened that I never saw before: the actual cork broke off with the neck of the bottle, as if it has been sabered open, a clean shot. The old glass, which had its share of nooks and crannies, was on the fragile side, which was another comforting sign. Now, came the true test. The nose was incredibly heady and saucy, with an amazing Worcestershire quality that jumped out of the glass, followed by this oily rose essence, earth, Versailles garden, tea, beef and bouillon. There was layer upon layer of complexity, typical of great old RC; a close friend of mine admired, ‘you can smell and taste the energy of ungrafted vines,’ also noting that this was a bottle from the same batch he recently shared with Aubert de Villaine. The palate was rich and beefy, with lots of Worcestershire again and huge acidity. Gil finally chimed in with ‘raspberry acidity and hoisin.’ It was big out of the bottle but softened and mellowed with each sip, as very old wine is prone to do. Gil started to heat up, observing ‘pomegranite rusticness and stewed tomatoes.’ Rich and flavorful with additional bouillon, garden, rose and oil flavors, the 1919 saw its tannins melt away and rusty flavors emerge. I was right on that ‘6 star’ border, with a close friend of mine being low six, but a close friend of mine swayed my vote in the end. While there was incredible complexity and winegasmic action, I must warn that it was a thirty-minute wine and lost itself a bit after extended aeration, which is normal for many, very old wines. Hey, I hope I can last thirty minutes when I am age 88 lol (97).

Next up was a 1921 Latour a Pomerol. Old Pomerols are one of the most counterfeited segments of wine, so much so that even the real ones are assumed by most to be fake. When it comes to 1920s and Pomerols, there is only one reference point that I have, and those are Nicolas bottles. Nicolas reconditioned and/or recorked its stock repeatedly over the years, and did it well, so their stock always has that ‘o so fresh’ feeling relative to many other bottles of a same age. The ‘Nicolas Reserve’ bottles are supposedly the ones that were only recorked, usually indicated by a small neck strip label. I have had this wine twice before, and it was consistent with those experiences. It would be easy to say that the wine was fake, especially without knowing or having tasted these before; it was unquestionably reconditioned but similar to many old Pomerols that I have had from multiple cellars. That super-concentrated, Pomerol, motor oil sex appeal is very difficult to replicate”¦although that might be a poor word choice! The wine was like chocolate thunder, and visions of Daryl Dawkins dunking on me caused a small bead of sweat to trickle down the side of my forehead. Gil admired its ‘liqueur and cherries jubilee.’ It had a smoky, big palate, chocolate tootsiepop flavors (which is a tell-tale for Nicolas Pomerols). It was a bit simpler and softer in the mouth than I had hoped, but it did show that full-maturity integration. It was still lush, tender, silky and velvety. Based upon all my reference of numerous ‘20’s Bordeaux – original, reconditioned, recorked – this wine had classic components of both the vintage of 1921 and the terroir of Pomerol (93).

Next up was a 1947 Latour a Pomerol. I will never forget this wine, for it was one of the first bottles that was ever returned to me. A West Coast retailer bought a bottle from me about five or six years ago, and when he got the bottle, he flipped out. I mean, really flipped out ”“ screaming, ranting, raving. The fact that it had no red in the label, it was obviously fake, how could I sell that bottle, etc. Of course, as I later discovered, 1947s were all black and white; even one that I stumbled across in a rural shop in Bordeaux had the same label. I mean, World War II ended two years prior; consistency wasn’t necessarily the most important factor at the time; just getting it bottled and made was in itself a victory. In addition, this bottle that was ‘fake,’ was reconditioned in 1994 at the winery (a few cases were rereleased then), as indicated on the top of the cork, which I found out when I opened the bottle myself and drank it with a dozen other collectors. (Author’s note to the Chateaux ”“ branding the top of a cork is a STUPID idea and I say so because I have seen it with other Chateaux). So back to this bottle, also with a black and white label, but this bottle was not reconditioned”¦it was love at first sight, something that I have seen recently, so I would know. ‘Fresh yet mature,’ started my notes. ‘Chocolate sex and a baseball bat,’ was next. Wheat, earth, honey, smoke, t ‘n a and minerals oozed out the nose. Gil observed, ‘Whoooooa.’ He quickly recovered to uncover ‘a medley of berries galore and pure blackcurrant.’ In the mouth, there was great spice and balance, and great acidity, which is the true definition of wine greatness ”“ acidity without being acidic. a close friend of mine chimed in, ‘so f”¦in good, 6 stars, your 98 points.’ Gil summed it up best, ‘if anyone fakes wine of this quality, then I don’t care. I’m good.’ Exactly, but sorry a close friend of mine, it was only (96+).

The last wine on this already legendary night was one that I brought, albeit unintentionally. As I mentioned previously, it was a Bipin Cheval weekend. He had acquired a few select bottles from me, one of them being a 1947 Cheval Blanc. He had three bottles at the event and needed to open two. When I arrived for Saturday’s lunch, he quickly ushered me to the side and was very anxious about the bottle. The fill was too good (very top shoulder), the cork was depressed, he reasoned, although he quickly pointed out that this was what was said to him by a few observers. Like I said, everyone is now an expert. I told him, ‘look, if you are unsure, don’t open it, open the other two. No big deal.’ There were fifty people there, it was already very busy, so I didn’t even bother looking at the bottle. I knew that bottle was a great one, but that touch of paranoia had gotten the better of me on the spot, so I told him forget it rather than go look at the bottle with him again and reconfirm what I already knew. I had a taste of both bottles that were opened at the event, and they were both bordering on outstanding, in that 94-96 point zone, although one was a touch oxidized, just a touch. Unfortunately, the capsule on my bottle was already removed, so I could not return it, and I decided since a close friend of mine has been the most generous person that I ever met, on this night I would return some of that generosity to him and open this third bottle of 1947. It was by far the best bottle of the three, and everything it was supposed to be and then some. Rusty ecstasy was the first descriptor that came to mind. It had incredible t ‘n a in its nose, and Gil observed, ‘black tea and port. This is what it’s supposed to be.’ Gil was also there at lunch and had both bottles. The signature motor oil, as well as pot pourri, was also in the nose. Gil went on to say that he thought it was ‘definitely fortified; it’s 5% port, that’s a fact.’ Hey now! He said it, not me J. Allspice rounded out the nose. The palate was thick, rich and port-like ecstasy, and its finish was so rusty and so spicy with that typical volatile acidity kick. Gil admired its concentration again, calling it almost Australian yet so amazing given the fact that it was sixty years old. This was as good a bottle as one could hope to have, so fresh, yet again so mature. Brown sugar flavors simmered in butter, and black currant spice abounded. I think that six to eight years ago the wine was still that 99/99+ points (New Year’s Eve 1999 never forgotten Craig and Corrine!), but now (98) is about as high as it gets. Old age catches up with us all. Rust, earth, motor oil, caramel, chocolate, Twix”¦I think that covers the rest of this incredible bottle”¦oh yeah, one more thing, it came from the ‘Golden Cellar.’

Wines of this age and stature will often be under suspicion, but in the end these wines left no doubt. If you don’t want to believe, then that is your prerogative. We’ll still be drinkin ‘em.

It was actually only three days of drinking for me, but it was probably about a month’s worth anyway; by the time Saturday morning rolled around, it sure as hell felt like it, and I had to skip drinking for Saturday’s final session. I even skipped Friday night’s after-party, even with a lot of ‘big lumber’ ready, willing and able.

It started in a civilized fashion Wednesday night at Craft Steak, with a special dinner featuring wines from the actual Golden Cellar. Forty collectors assembled in eager anticipation for what would end up being the second largest wine auction of all time.

You know it is a good evening when the aperitif round is six bottles of 1999 Ramonet Montrachet. Even though it was still a baby, one could not help but appreciate its genetic makeup. Classic aromas of minerals, corn, butter, mint and wheat slowly made their way out of the glass in this brooding and reticent giant of a white. A bit rugged and square in the palate, it had all the big, bruising qualities of 1999 combined with the regal style and elegance of Montrachet. Its palate was particularly rocky and minerally on its finish despite the wealth of butter, oil and citrus in arrears. I do prefer 2000 for early drinking over 1999, but this is a white wine that will still be singing in ten, fifteen and more years, most likely climbing the point ladder as well (95+).

The first official flight was all Henri Jayer Vosne Romanee Cros Parantoux out of magnum, beginning with the 1995. 1995 is a vintage that most serious collectors are selling rather than buying, although there were still some fabulous wines made in 1995; Roumier and Vogue immediately come to mind. However, most ‘95s can be tart and acidic, very rusty in their personality and a bit on the lean and mean side. Henri Jayer was one of the most revered winemakers in the history of Burgundy, certainly top five of all time, and one of his claims to fame was how he was a master of the so-called ‘lesser’ or ‘off’ vintages, especially after fifteen or twenty years in the bottle. The 1984 and 1982 Echezeauxs that I had from the Golden Cellar on location were most recent testimonies to this fact. All this is leading somewhere, trust me. At the mere age of twelve and out of magnum, this 1995 seemed more 1995 than Jayer, however. It was lean and full of cedar and citrus aromas, a bit woody in its personality despite some grapy fruit lurking in the shadows of its nose. Pungent, austere and rusty all came to mind in both smelling and tasting the 1995, and while it was very good, it was a bit disappointing for a Jayer wine, although the youth and magnum factors could have played into it. There still was a bit of deep, dark and rich Jayer purple fruit there, but it was just a hint (91M).

The 1993 quickly reestablished order in the court. This was an incredible wine. 1993 is definitely a great vintage, but it is still usually a back-sided one, aka more structure than fruit at this stage. This magnum of 1993 Jayer had more fruit than any wine I have ever encountered from the vintage, and I have had most of the best wines from this vintage on multiple occasions. The 1993 had it all; its nose was brooding yet fresh and full of vibrant purple fruits, a rainbow of purple that would have made Hendrix proud. It was supported by twin towers of nut and musk, just absolutely fabulous and still so adolescent in that Miss Teen Burgundy kind of way. The palate was rich and actually lush, still adolescent but so damn good already. It had superb balance to its meaty and rich personality, and a finish that was sturdy yet never lost its deft balance. Amazing stuff (97M).

The 1988 was the first and only wine to show a hint of gamy maturity, that kinky, fleshy style that Jayer transforms into after age twenty or so, plus or minus depending on the qualityof the vintage. The 1988 was very sexy, just starting to show some flesh, sweet in its purple and with a splash of vitamins as well. The classic Jayer musk and kink were there, and the palate was chewy and fleshy, no easy task to achieve in 1988, which is a rugged, tannic, structure first vintage. The 1988 was tasty as well. Its delightful drinkability and approachability stood out in this first flight. While the 1988 might not get much better, score one for Jayer. The ’88 should still have a reasonably long plateau ahead of it, to be clear (94M).

The next flight was dubbed ‘the Leroy Challenge.’ The Man with the Golden Cellar is a huge Leroy lover and feels that Leroy does not get her due respect from many top collectors. Leroy had begun bottling her own estate wines in 1988, so we took three of our favorite vintages, three of our favorite grand crus and three of our other favorite producers and made a special flight, one of our favorite things.

We started with a stunning 1990 Dujac Clos de la Roche. This was one of those superlative bottles that was everything and then some. Fruit oozed out of its nose, black and purple in its hue with just a splash of red as well. Cassis, plum, earth, dust, minerals and a perfect whiff of cedar all graced this deep and aggressively aromatic nose. It had that world class combination of sweetness and depth, and the palate was deliciously lush yet long, forward yet youthful, complex yet singular in its greatness. It certainly made it difficult for the Leroy (97).

The 1990 Leroy Clos de la Roche was a big wine, very cedary and earthy in its nose. It had that ‘steroids,’ more modern edge that some Burgundy lovers dislike, and it was also minerally and full of tobacco and eucalyptus. It was difficult to get past the menthol and into its fruit. The palate was big and cedary as well, a touch too much so, but there was no doubting its concentration and weight. Staggering is usually an appropriate word choice when it comes to the concentration and mouthfeel of an estate Leroy wine. However, this bottle of 1990 was not up for the challenge, a bit square and lacking fruit, beefy yet almost synthetic in its personality (92).

I suppose that is not how the Leroy challenge was supposed to play out, but in the words of Lou Buonanno, ‘It is what it is.’ The next flight would have a different story to tell. We started off with an excellent bottle of 1996 Rousseau Chambertin. The Rousseau was lean and racy in its nose, pungent with its animal, citrus and spearmint aromas. This wine was very 1996, full of acidity and the accompanying sinus-clearing qualities. Rose, brick and vitamin were secondary. Its flavors were mostly pungent citrus, rose and brick as well, full of enough acidity and racy structure to smack any lips. It seemed just short of a complete Rousseau, albeit still an excellent and ageworthy one that might flesh out two or three decades away to become extraordinary (94).

The 1996 Leroy Chambertin was definitely one of the wines of the night, and I must say that Leroy’s 1996s are probably wines of the vintage. This is a vintage where she hit the nail on the head. The Leroy was deep and brooding with her beefy style evident yet in a leaner 1996 way, giving way to brick and red cherry fruit, all spearheaded by a blending streak of acidity and menthol that would clear up any stuffy nose. Big, racy, meaty yet fresh, the Chambertin had a similar personality on its palate and a mouth-staining, never ending finish. The wine seemed capable of aging a hundred years (97).

Our Leroy challenge flight was now even; it was up to 1999 to settle this, beginning with a 1999 Romanee St. Vivant. The was very primary, full of violet and dry cassis fruit, earth, rose, animal and that ’99 adolescence, star quarterback style. Minerals, earth and tobacco tried to escape thru the wealth of primary fruit. In the mouth, there was more mint and animal to go with its cassis and earth; the wine wasn’t shutdown, but it still needed a training bra and left me yearning for more (94+).

The 1999 Leroy was a bit more showy, thick and sweet with brick, beef and almost caramel-covered cherry fruit. Rich, round and mouthfilling, I can’t say it was better than the although it was clearly different in style. I would say the Leroy had a tastier personality at this young age, perhaps more developed (which wouldn’t be a good thing) or just flat out more hedonistic in general (which were my thoughts about it), but the line between the two was very fine and definitely a question of stylistic preference in general (94).

Well, the Leroy challenge may have not established a consensus, but it definitely confirmed the fact that on average, her wines are qualitatively equivalent to the other top wines in Burgundy.

We switched gears to old Bordeaux, beginning with a beautiful 1953 Lafite Rothschild. Long considered by many to be the wine of the vintage, the Lafite was classic all the way, although perhaps just starting to gracefully decline and at the end of a 50-year long plateau. The old-timers will say how 1953 was just one of those vintages that was delicious from the beginning and never stopped being so. This bottle had tender aromas of old book and cedar, pencil, nutshell, cobwebs and dry mesquite. The cassis was on the drier side of the coin, a function of its age, and I could see magnums of this making a difference. The wine was still lush, tender, smoky and balanced, soft and charming, quintessentially Lafite and finishing with fine flavors of cedar, earth and tobacco (94).

The 1961 La Mission Haut Brion was one of those gravelly bottles, full of charcoal, rocks, minerals, earth and tobacco first and foremost. With time, decadent plum and cassis came out along with more iron and smokehouse. I know that the Bordelais never talk about bottle variation, but believe you me when I tell you that there is variation amongst thousands of cases that get produced by each chateaux, especially back in the day. There are two distinct styles of 1961 La Mission that I have come across, one like this being almost excessively gravelly. I still loved the wine; its acidity and minerality were very special, and with time, decadent chocolate and smoky cassis flavors emerged in this outstanding La Miss (95).

The 1961 Latour was very port-like, taking the concentration level up a notch, but it was so concentrated that it almost lost its structure in the wealth of fruit that it had. There was the classic cassis and walnut exacta, and it was definitely delicious, but its acidity seemed buried in its fruit, its almost buttery and bordering on pornographic fruit. Rich, round and lush, I wondered if all of a sudden this wine might be where it needs to be and not one that needs to be kept under lock and key for another twenty or thirty years. Based on many other bottles of older Latour, I think that this was either bottle variation or a personal one (95).

The fourth flight was one of Guigal, another of the Golden Cellar’s favorite producers. We did the 1999 thing, and to be honest, I had a real tough time evaluating these wines at this stage of the evening. To taste and seriously evaluate young wines after being exposed to a few older ones is something that I cannot always do. It was similar to when we had the 2000 Lafleur at the end of that incredible evening at the Golden Cellar, and I think I will avoid doing younger flights later in a long wine evening in the future. Many were ooh-ing and aah-ing over the Guigals, but I just couldn’t get into it, sorry.

The 1985 Guigal Cote Rotie La Mouline, however, was another story. We had to put things in a little perspective, of course. The nose was out of control good, reeking of menthol, olive, bacon, minerals and gamy, pungent fruit. Waxy, silky and sexy, the nose was a definitiveone for great Cote Rotie. This meaty, chewy and fleshy La Mouline had similar flavors and a beautiful, gamy lushness that really stood out. Animal, iron and smoke joined the party in this winegasmic wine (97).

There was one last wine for dessert, a 1990 Henri Bonneau Chateauneuf du Pape Cuvee Speciale. I think he has only made this wine two or three times, and it is basically a late-harvest Chateauneuf du Pape. The nose was very Amarone in style, with a sweet, pruny and figgy personality. Dark, dank, gamy fruit abounded in this unique wine. The palate was massive, full of alcohol, acidity and a very long finish. Sweet, pruny flavors dominated the palate. Its style might not be for everyone, but it is a singularly great wine that deserves high praise (95).

That brought the Golden Cellar portion of our program to a close, and so begun the afterparty”¦at Cru, of course. A mind-boggling amount of great wine got opened between the hours of 10:30 and 3am. Yes, it got ugly, in a beautiful way, that is. The spirit of sharing and enjoying wine was alive and well in New York City on this night, brought out of the woodworks by one of America’s greatest collections. There were so many great wines opened that I am sure I even missed some that I tasted, and I know I missed some that I didn’t taste. In fact, if you were there, let me know what other wines were opened that I missed! I am a curious fellow.

All these things start innocently enough, and so did this night with a ‘refresher’ white courtesy of Wilf Jaeger. A 2002 Domaine Leflaive Chevalier Montrachet was outstanding as it should be, very big, rich and young yet forward and enjoyable at this early stage. Lots of yellow hues were in the nose and mouth, butter, citrus, other yellow fruits, even a drop of sunshine. Mint, smoke, toast and minerals were very sturdy and a great foundation for this wine to age for a couple decades more (96).

The real refresher wines were the trio ofbubblies that came next, although the first one set a very high bar. Since people were now filing in from the first event, I decided to set the table with a magnum of 1990 Krug Clos du Mesnil, and what a magnum it was. I was surprised how open it was; I expected it to be laser-like and tighter than a nun’s knees, but it was wonderfully gamy, yeasty and pungently delicious in its nose. Don’t get me wrong; it was a baby and very young with seismic levels of acidity and decades of potential behind it, but it was just very open and delicious as well. Its flavors were marinated white meats, combined with golden fruits including one or two raisins, and it had a chewy, wine-like complexity with a finish of a rocketship launching. The party had officially begun (98M).

I kept it moving with a pair or rare 1996 bubblies, starting with the 1996 Philipponat Clos des Goisses. It had that great streak of 1996 acidity, also combined with this wonderful gamy complexity, full of yellow, meaty fruits but dominated by vitamins. Great stuff to have in the cellar (95+). The 1996 Billecart Salmon Cuvee Nicolas Francois was actually quite similar to the Goisses, but it was a touch more elegant and refined, perhaps longer but in a subtle way. It, too, had a lot of vitamins to it (95).

By the time we got through the bubblies, Cru was kind of packed, basically turning into a hot nightclub for wine lovers. Enter one of my fellow enthusiasts ; initiate rock star moment. a close friend of mine bought the six-liter of 1995 Chave Ermitage Cuvee Cathelin off the list, and everybody got some. As young as it was, there couldn’t have been a better wine crowd to enjoy it, and it was yet another chapter in the book of one of the world’s most generous wine lovers. Although I didn’t get to this wine until much later in the evening, I will provide my tasting note here. The nose was unbelievably concentrated; seepy, sappy and thick like molasses. Classic Northern Rhone action oozed out of the glass: black as night fruits, menthol, bacon, earth charred by a blistering sun. Iodine, iron, charcoal and smoke were secondary. This wine took concentration up a notch, although I will admit that the style of this wine has always been a bit over the top for me. It is almost too concentrated, too extracted, too rich, but I think in forty years or so, God willing, and if I can still find a bottle, it might be one of those indubitable 99-pointers. For now, I had to respect its massive raw materials and King Kong-like presence (95+I). The I is for Imperial aka 6-liter”¦I know for Rhone it is Methusaleh, but M is for magnum”¦

I had to equal a close friend of mine’s generosity as best I could, shit it was my party, and Robert Bohr, sommelier and wine genius behind Cru, recommended a jero of 1986 Romanee St. Vivant. ‘Let’s do it,’ was my quick reply. The wine was glorious. There are many who think that Aubert puts his best barrels into his large format bottles, as the chances of them getting opened at a young age are much rarer; therefore, these wines will be enjoyed at a more reasonable age than many bottles whose corks get pulled at a young age for evaluation. 1986 is one of those years that many have forgotten in Burgundy, but it is one that merits some more attention. , Roumier and Jayer, for starters, made some thrilling wines that are still fabulous. This jero was delicious. It was still on the youthful side, perhaps just entering its plateau, full of classic rose, iron, menthol, rust and vitamin. Leather and citrus balanced like beams of wine justice in both the nose and the palate. Tasty, vigorous and full of citric tension, this wine also had freshly, just-starting-to-wilt rose flavors, along with great rust on its finish. Yum (94J).

I had one more move left in me off the list, a couple bottles of 1999 Montrachet. It seemed like a good time to freshen up thepalate with a white wine, although this was far from a spritzer. The was luscious and rich, sweeter and more open than the Ramonet earlier that evening, although that Ramonet certainly seemed a long, long way away now. Very buttery and tropical, the was chewy and forward for its age, but still very long and brooding on its earthy finish. Kisses of wood on its finish quickly turned into slaps of it, yet it all remained integrated in this big, brooding yet civilized white (96+).

I can’t remember if it was now or later when about 100 hot dogs came in from one of Robert’s secret food connections :). The kitchen was closed, but we needed to soak up all this wine in our bellies, and Robert quickly came to the rescue with a boatload of dogs. They hit the spot so well that we joked that Shea should add them to the menu. Easy, Shea”¦take it f2f2f2asy I’m joking :).

I also can’t remember if it was before or now that King Angry, aka Ray Tuppatsch, stumbled in after coming to the initial dinner, then going to do 15 vintages of Dom Perignon on the side, then proceeding to join us again in his, um, enlightened state. I believe it was he who ordered the magnum of 1989 Roumier Musigny, officially confirming his enlightenment. The Roumier was another superb bottle, 1989 at its finest, dripping with wet red and smoky fruit, exuding the class of Musigny with its terroir-driven personality. Silky, stylish yet full-flavored and large in its presence, it was long, strong and oh so fine. Stones, minerals, and forest floor danced around the edges of the palate in this great wine (96M).

A 1989 Mugnier Musigny was quickly paired with the Roumier, and it was certainly excellent but not on the same level as the Roumier. The typicity of 1989 again showed here, but with more of the usual vitamin and game qualities. Rich, balanced, earthy and with a touch of cola, this was still good stuff (93).

A 1971 Grands Echezeaux wasnext. I think I can, I think I can”¦I have said it over and over again, but it is tough for anyone to convince me that can be any better than it was in 1971”¦ok maybe ’34. 1945, true”¦but after that, I am not sure I can be convinced! This was another great bottle. Grands Ech is usually the best bang for the buck in the portfolio, sometimes even outshowing its ‘bigger’ siblings when tasted side-by-side. Gamy and rich, beefy yet citrusy, lean yet lush, the 1971 also had the expected earth, menthol, rose and rust (95).

There was one last wine that I remember, a 1990 Romanee Conti, also courtesy of one of my fellow enthusiasts , of course. It was consistent with the bottle that I had at Le Cirque eleven days prior with a close friend of mine, Eddie, Ray, Roger, Doug and the Burghound after one of the ‘Burghound in the City Weekend’ sessions, where we tasted about 30 different 1982 whites and 1962 reds. That night at Le Cirque, we also had the ’71, 78 and ’85, but that is another story! Back to the RC at Cru, the last bottle that I can remember having. It was good to see such a young RC deliver both enjoyment yet still have such promise. There was a wealth of red fruit in both the nose and the palate. The wine was rich like nobility, and its finish was one of a perfect, endless summer. It was mouthfilling and gripping, seizing the attention of my tongue and letting me know who was still the top of the mountain. Cascades of red fruit continued to develop with each sip, and the structure and t ‘n a here were not joking around. Hell yeah (98).

I made my best decision of the night by deciding to call it one at 3am. Others were not so lucky, and many ended up back at one of my fellow enthusiasts ’s suite doing who knows what until six in the morning. One of these people was King Angry, who actually threw in the towel on a very significant Thursday night as a result. So, the first night of celebration for the Golden Cellar also officially became the night Ray Tuppatsch was drunk under the table. Had to do it to ya, buddy :).

We picked up the second night where we left off the first, at Cru, but downstairs in a more civilized fashion. We started casually with some bubbly as people arrived. It must have been a full moon, because The Don was the third or fourth person there! Awooooooooooo :).

I ordered the 1996 Billecart Salmon Rose Cuvee Elisabeth off the list. It was beautiful, possessing pretty, open fruit, especially for a Rose. I do not recall ever having a Rose that showed this much fruit at such a young age. Balanced and gorgeous, I might have to start drinking some more of their stuff (95).

The rest of the wines for the first part of the evening were all from the Golden Cellar. The first official flight was one of Coche-Dury Corton Charlemagne. The 2000 Coche-Dury Corton Charlemagne had a clean, fresh nose full of floral qualities, along with light, delicate citrus, corn and bread. It was slightly shy in the nose at first, but a sweet butter profile emerged. The 2000 possessed a great finish accompanied by a lip-smacking minerality and white earth flavors. Danielle added, ‘a touch of exotic jasmine.’ Stylish, elegant and gorgeous, I would be thrilled to drink this wine any time. 2000s are so fresh and clean (95).

The 1996 Coche-Dury Corton Charlemagne quickly took charge of this flight with its incredible nose, similar to the 2000 but with more of everything. Rich and forward, big and buttery, citrusy and smoky, the 1996 was awesome as always, long and lip-smacking, with a racy finish that would make for a fine Nascar ending. Its remarkable flavors were thick, long and fat, full of butter and citrus. This 1996 might go down as one of the greatest white wines ever made (98).

The 1992 Coche-Dury Corton Charlemagne was the most aromatic by far, a bit stewy and buttery, showing that forward 1992 style. Its nose was gamy, yeasty and waxy. Smooth and soft with nice, lingering smoke, toast and white earth flavors, the 1992 still has nice length to its finish, but I couldn’t help but think that this particular vintage of Coche is already over the rainbow and has seen its best days already (94).

We did the Leroy challenge again on this second night, beginning with a repeat of one of the showdowns I did on location at the Golden Cellar. The 1996 Richebourg was classic ‘96 with its aromas of rust, iron, cedar, leather and ‘super’ windex, in the best possible sense of the word. It had great spine, spice and rust to its flavors, super long on its finish but still with great balance. It was still a baby, but what a baby, oh baby”¦.I think I have written that before, but it still works in my book (95).

The 1996 Leroy Richebourg had an incredible nose of rose, oil, crushed fruits, leather, beef, iron and a whiff of wood. Its fruit was super sexy and kept morphing into black and purple hues. There was also an exotic, jasmine spice and crazy complexity in the mouth. Thick and long, here was another 1996 Leroy that was again flat-out great (96+).

Musigny finally came to this party, beginning with a 1993 Mugnier Musigny. The Mugnier had a fabulous nose and great aromatics of forest spice, and beautiful fruit with nice citrus components. While still tight and coy, there was no doubting its potential, although this bottle seemed a little raw compared to other memories. Cedar, citrus and slate provided the foundation for the palate, and the nose gained a milky sex appeal. The palate overall was shut down, though, hinting at the promises that time will unlock. Like many ‘93s, it needs more time (95+).

The 1993 Leroy Musigny Wilf called ‘one of the greatest wines ever made,’ which is high praise from one who could be considered a high priest of wine. Its nose was at first subtle yet oh so brooding, and slowly smokehouse, blood orange, beef andsweet cherry sauntered out of hiding. The aromatics were a veritable sex show. The palate was rich, thick, long and with amazing concentration and grip, showing off the Leroy style. This was a big wine, with great cedar flavors on its finish. Wow (97+).

We ended with a pair of 1990s, Richebourgs again, but enter 1990 Meo Camuzet Richebourg. The Meo had a rich, great, gamy nose, showcasing wonderful spice as well as musky and meaty aromas and a lot of violet. Round and rich with nice flesh and definition, it had an excellent, stony finish. The acidity really started to flex itself more and more with time, and this wine climbed a couple points in my book before I was done with it. It expanded like a complex algorithim, had an overall superb style and was a fabulous wine. Man, I love Meo Richebourgs (97).

The 1990 Leroy Richebourg had a smoky, foresty side to the nose, with deep, dark fruits and a rubbery note, as in burning on a hot pavement. There was also a touch of spearmint. The palate was rich, rusty and long, but again the 1990 Leroy was outdone. I think that next time there is a Leroy challenge, the 1990 needs to be kept on the sidelines and not in the game for her sake. It just does not seem to be the bullseye year for her, and this night’s Leroy challenge pretty much had the same outcome as the night before (94).

Next up was a flight of Jayer, all Echezeaux and some of its best vintages. The 1985 Henri Jayer Echezeaux had an incredible nose. It was that ‘Jayer special,’ with that rich, plummy, dark fruit, sexy musk and sensual perfume. Everything resulted in a nosegasm. I had to quickly grab a tissue; those nosegasms can get pretty messy. Secondary chocolate and coffee emerged. The palate was meaty, rich and had this nutty sex appeal. Smooth, sensual and balanced, this was outstanding stuff although the nose delivered a little more than thae palate, but that is nothing new for 1985 (95).

The strong>1982 Henri Jayer Echezeaux was a twin to the great bottle I had on location prior at the Golden Cellar. Duke was oohing and aahing, and his hands were on the table, so it had to be the wine, which was so fabulously rich, so fabulously lush, so fabulously fleshy and so fabulously long. In the mouth, the wine was chewy with flavors of citrus, earth and dust. Its acidity was crazy (good), and this wine practically stole the show in this flight because it was that good, right now. It almost had this Dao-like edge, and I say that as a compliment. Someone remarked that the 1982 is now where the other two wines will be in another 20-30 years. Somebody save some ’85 and ‘78 (95)!!!

The 1978 Henri Jayer Echezeaux was also classic with great spice. Its nose was round and rich and all about the deep purple. The palate was huge yet had superb balance to go with its length. This wine was a class act. All three Echezeauxs were stylistically different, yet qualitatively equal, although the 1978 distanced itself a bit from the pack; it was pure class in a glass (96+).

A duo of 1971 s was next, beginning with a 1971 Richebourg. Did I mention that these are a few of my favorite things already? This had a ‘wow’ nose, an incredible nose, with the rose, the menthol, the mint, the rust, the game, the earth, the oil, the leather, the tobacco and the spine of an extra special Burgundy. This was a quintessential, classic beauty. Wilf dryly complimented the wine (and took a small shot at my beloved 1971s), saying that there was less rot than usual. I found the wine sweet and gamy with amazing rose flavors. The wine was slightly softer on the palate but amazing nonetheless (95).

The 1971 La Tache was the second bottle that I had from the Golden Cellar during my tour of duty. Duke called this one ‘the cat’s ass,’ which I think is a good thing :).It was everything the Richebourg was and then some, with a shade less fruit but so much more structure than the Richebourg. Fabulous flavors of menthol, mint rust and ‘screech,’ the 1971 LT was awesome as always, all that and then some (97).

Wine number seventeen for this amazing evening was a 1982 Lafleur. The ’82 Lafleur on offer from the Golden Cellar was some of the best bottles of this that I have seen in a while, as there are unfortunately some counterfeits of this out there. My hunch proved correct, as this bottle was a knockout. The Lafleur was typiclally gamy, figgy, nutty and tasty, with that classic ‘Rayas’ over-ripeness in its nose. Long and balanced, the wine had incredible reserve to it, and it was not as advanced as other bottles of this that I have had. This is special stuff that might equal the 1961 one day (97+).

1952 Pomerols are also one of the Man with the Golden Cellar’s favorite things, and out came a 1952 Petrus. The nose was smoke city, nutty and gamy in a chocolaty way. There was enormous acidity here, and super chocolate flavors. Boing (95).

The last of our Pomerol flight was a 1947 Vieux Chateau Certan, which came from a mid-shoulder fill bottle. It was still good yet affected and not all that it could be. There was still lots of chocolate in this earthy and waxy wine, which seemed milder and more subdued than previous experiences (92A).

A flight of 1959s led off with a stupendous 1959 La Mission Haut Brion. The La Miss had an unreal nose that was chocolate city, supplemented by lumpy oatmeal, forest floor spice and charcoal. Long, grainy and defined in the mouth, its spine was extraordinary, and the wine was simply divine (97).

A 1959 Lafite Rothschild was unfortunately corked (DQ).

The 1959 Latour was also stellar. Although my note-taking skills were starting to wane, only a corpse could not appreciate the deep cassis and walnut aromas and flavors, as well as the wine’s great ‘minty freshness,’ as someone keenly observed (97).

The last wine from the Golden Cellar was another glorious 1985 Guigal, a 1985 Guigal Cote Rotie La Turque. This wine was singing right now, still young and very fresh, but showing many mature nuances and complexities and big-time menthol, bacon, earth, cassis and chocolate aromas and flavors (97).

We moved upstairs for the after-party, day II. It was another silly display of generosity and great wine, beginning with a magnum of 1989 La Tache. The LT was gamy and vitaminy in the nose, really gamy, and it reminded me of 1999 with the freshness of its fruit, but there was this bad keg flavor that marred the palate for me. There was still nice texture and length, perhaps it just needed to air out, but I had to keep it moving and keep up with the blistering pace of wines being opened (93?).

A 1986 Roumier Bonnes Mares was great, flirting with five stars. It was another example of how excellent 1986 can be. There was fabulous spine in the nose with aromas of vitamins, stems and a cedary edge. Long, smooth, longer”¦it was a beauty (94+).

A 1955 Haut Brion had a super smoky mesquite smokehouse nose. Flavors of buttersoft leather, cassis and band-aid rounded out this excellent HB (94).

There was this 1978 Richebourg. It was a spectacular bottle of this wine. What was most noteworthy about it was how it showed even better than the 1971 we had earlier. The 1971 was still outstanding, but 1978 outshowing 1971 was a new thing for me. What made it more significant was that it happened previously at Le Cirque when we had that quartet of RC’s last week; perhaps a changing of the guard is finally happening relative to ’78 over ’71? Although I am sure many will feel that there is no ‘change.’ Anyway, the ’78 Riche was full of menthol, rust, game, old book and wilted roses. It had a wealth of everything in just the right proportions. Flavors of meat, nut, game, animal, sappy caramel and nuts were all over this super creamy wine. Wow (97).

There were two wines left, wines number 28 and 29 for the evening, and it was a fitting ending to two incredible evenings of incredible wines. A 1990 Roumier Musigny was, as it should be, spectacular. Aromas of ‘kefir,’ ‘burnt cherries’ and ‘perfume’ were all noted. Atypically chunky and thick, the 1990 was deep, rich, long and thick; a fundamental of the vintage, I suppose. It grabbed my tongue’s attention, and the wine really had to be chewed before swallowed. It still felt like it had fifty years ahead of it (96+).

The 1991 Roumier Musigny was up for the challenge of being paired with its more esteemed brother. It was more typical in style, with that waify elegance and forceful, feminine aromatics of red fruits, cured meat and green olives. There was ample t ‘n a in this well-balanced and long beauty (95).

I should know better, but I ended up at Tenjune and downing six bottles of bubbly with a few, select friends. The prior night ended at 3am; this one 4:30 – probably not the best recipe to cook up the couple days before the biggest auction of the year. Doh! I gotta start remembering that I am not 25 anymore. Just because all the beautiful women around are that age doesn’t mean I am 🙂

I eased into my Friday at a gingerly pace, making sure to be well-rested for the big show that afternoon. In fact, I was feeling rather groovy by the time the curtain came up and the actual Golden Cellar auction began.

We started everyone off with compliemtary glasses of 1996 Salon, generously donated to the auction by the greatest Champagne collector in the world, aka Big Boy style. It is still the best young Champagne that I have ever had (97+).

About 100 lots into the auction, there was a slew of lots of 1998 Petrus, and I pulled out a couple magnums of said wine out from underneath the podium and got the party started right. It was one of those ‘great moments in auction history’ that you might see on WSPN one day. I grabbed a swig, and I was amazed how chunky and rich and chocolaty this was out of magnum. It was amazingly good. I remember this wine being so tight on release that I was stunned and surprised (in a great way) how showy and flavorful it was. Full of earth and minerals, and just dripping with plums and chocolate, this was some serious stuff (98M).

There were a bunch of other wines going around throughout the evening, but I am kind of brain damaged about it. I had a full plate without sitting down to dinner.

I do remember three significant magnums quite well, the first being a 1953 Petrus. I had been saving this beauty for a special occasion, and here we were. I had sourced this and a ’59 through top negociants in Bordeaux after getting pictures in advance, etc. I remain one person who is not afraid of old wine. The magnum was a bit shook up, I must confess, causing Big Boy to grumble, so I quickly took it around the room for a tour of duty. Most people were loving it nonetheless. It was elegant a la 1953, yet meaty and chocolaty, perhaps a touch yeasty but still right across the border of being outstanding. Rich, long and stylish, most people loved it (95M).

Big Boy went with the magnum of 1959 Petrus, which was even better, very stony, minerally and much more structured than the 1953, as it should be. It didn’t have the charm of the 1953, but it had more power, depth and intensity. It was a great magnum (96+M).

A magnum of 1947 Margaux was good, a bit earthy and yeasty, showing more old book and cobweb flavors than fresh fruit. It was a senior citizen, not the bottle but just the wine,and its tender, leathery personality was just holding on to its very good status (90M).

I also remember an excellent 1959 Certan de May. It was chocolaty, gravelly and earthy and showing quite well (93).

The last thing I remember drinking was a 2001 Romanee Conti, an animal of a wine, so rich and so primary, fleshy, thick and mountainous in its personality. Beef blood, black fruits, leather and cedar were everywhere, but it was the sheer sap here that was most impressive, although it was very young to get a complete experience (95+).

I had drunk myself under the table; I skipped the after-party and couldn’t drink at all on Saturday. Everything finally caught up with me. I need to exert a little more self-control, I know. Shit happens, and so did the second largest auction of all-time. I have never seen an auction quite like it.

My two weeks working in the ‘Golden Cellar’ were basically sitting at a desk and checking bottles. I was cutting capsules, looking at corks, labels and the color of wines at a methodical pace. My first day was twelve hours; I inventoried about thirty plus cases. That’s about a bottle every two minutes. The tortoise was going to win this race.

Thankfully, not every wine in this sale is super old or Château Pétrus, or better said wines that I felt it was my duty to inspect personally. I did have help. Even more thankfully, I got to sample about twenty or so wines from the Golden Cellar during my tour of duty there this past summer.

The first wine we sampled was a pizza wine, or at least we were eating pizza with it! The 2002 Rousseau Gevrey-Chambertin Clos St. Jacques was a gorgeous wine, beautiful, classic and still young. I guess that part is obvious! Sensual and taut red fruits were balanced by vitamins and earth, and the wine’s finesse was oh so ’02; elegant, refined and stylish. 2002 is certainly a classic vintage, not over the top and one whose style will bend most Burgundy lovers’ knees (93).

Ok, so I know that is not really spot-checking for provenance, but sometimes I just need a glass of wine, too! The next night we got a little more serious. I told the owner of these wines that I wasn’t too keen on négoçiant bottles. He didn’t have many to begin with, but he was insistent that he has had some great experiences with them. ‘Show me,’ was my reply. Out came a 1955 Cheval Blanc Vandermeulen bottling. Now, I have had an awesome bottle of 1947 Pétrus Vandermeulen thanks to the Big Ticket, but other than that results have been more down than up. However, this bottle was very good. It had a rich, hearty and warm nose full of old yet vigorous fruit; olives, beef bouillon, rust and exotic spices were all there. It was very meaty in the nose and had a touch of game along with spicy alcohol notes. Rich, round and hearty, there was good definition on its medium-long finish. A touch subdued at first and not nearly as kinky or exotic as the last château-bottled ’55 Cheval that I had, it was still solid and developed some of that coffee milkshake and wintergreen with time that made me remember that original bottle. At less than half the price of an original bottle, I can’t say it’s not a good deal (92).

‘What’s next?’ I prodded. ‘I’ve been sitting in this 48-degree cellar for two days now, freezing my nuts off, and I am thirsty,’ I played. After a round of wine tennis, we settled on another wine from 1955 that I was hesitant to accept. The next wine, a 1955 Trotanoy, had a bit of a sunken cork. Authenticity was not an issue here, but the cork was a bit down in the neck and hence risky. I couldn’t offer it accordingly. Slightly depressed corks are meaningless in my book; three out of four times, we are the ones slightly depressing them since we always check for firmness of corks. However, a cork that is noticeably sunken and beyond slight depression is a different story. This bottle of Trotanoy, though, was spectacular. It had a ‘wow’ nose, kaleidoscopic in its hues and tones. Sweet candied plums, sexy caramel, exotic gingerbread and even a twist of mandarin orange were all present in this hedonistic Pomerol. The nose was ‘crazy good,’ I eloquently put. It kept unfolding in the glass, revealing more citrus spectrums and hints of coffee and forest spice. The palate was big, rich and meaty, concentrated and lush, all about the plums, buttressed nicely by a slate of minerals. Hearty and with good acid, gamy and figgy with exotic coconut, this was a thoroughbred of an old Pomerol, and another testament to how good ’55 was in the Right Bank (96).

Ok, so two bottles that I did not want to take that were quite tasty. Sorry! ‘Let’s make it three for three, you feel lucky?’ I prodded. There was a 1955 La Mission Haut-Brion with a black Nicolas stamp. I had never seen a black Nicolas stamp before. The cork was branded correctly, but I was still hesitant and said I would rather pass. Out came the cork, and it was ’55 La Miss all the way. This is a wine that I am quite familiar with, thankfully, and it was a fitting cap to this trio of so-called ‘unsellable’ wines. Better to be safe than sorry right? I guess you are starting to see why I am calling this collector ‘The Man with the Golden Cellar.’ The nose of the La Miss eased out of the glass, slowly awakening to reveal the usual wave of gravel and charcoal, followed by smoky, tobacco-laced fruit. Cassis, light traces of caramel and sweet Asian spices started to emerge and take center stage. In the mouth, there were sweet, smoky and tender flavors of beef jerky, charcoal, chocolate, white smoke, cedar and mesquite. Complex, complicated, sensual, elegant yet substantial; this was real wine if I ever had one. So stylish, it got very chocolaty and cedary, deliciously so. Rich and tasty, it put on weight in the glass. What a wine (97).

That was a good night. The next night was equally as good, in a different way. ‘A lot of Jayer in the sale, huh?’ I hinted. Now, I knew full well the quality of the Jayer in this cellar. The legendary vertical, my Top 100 Weekends… the provenance here had already been established, but I must confess that it has been a while since I had had some Jayer. Romanée-Conti? Check. Roumier, check. Rousseau, been there. Vogüé, done that… but Jayer, these wines just do not appear that often, and I rarely get to try them. People just do not have these wines, probably because the majority of them are in the Golden Cellar! I wanted to try some funky stuff, and knowing that Jayer is probably the best producer in the world of ‘off’ vintages, we settled on a pair of Échézeaux, 1984 and 1982. The 1984 H. Jayer Échézeaux was a thrilling wine because of the vintage. You know you are a wine geek when ‘thrilling’ and ‘1984 Échézeaux’ are in the same sentence, but I think anyone could have appreciated this wine. I think I have only had otherwise Jayer Richebourg from 1984; it could be one of the all-time worst vintages ever in Burgundy. ‘For one of all-time worst vintages, what a nose,’ were my first words. There was a distinct pungent mint to the nose, yet also pure and clean Burgundy fruit with vitamins and mushrooms to go with it. The mint had kink and got kinkier. The palate was rich and round with great texture on its finish. Full of animal, tart cherry, vitamin and a kiss of cedar flavors, this wine was ‘so f ‘in fab for ’84.’ I cannot tell a lie. Soft and tender and still on the right side of a plateau, this wine was nothing short of a miracle. I could not stop smacking my lips (93).

The 1982 H. Jayer Echezeaux was seductive and stylish, shy at first compared to the ’84, yet similar in style and character. It had perfumed rose, jasmine and violet aromas, reminiscent of the first floor in Bloomingdale’s with its exotic perfume. There was that twist of Jayer pungency and a splash of milk in there as well. In the mouth, the wine was rich and meaty with a long finish and clearly more power and weight than the 1984. Delicious flavors of leather and sweet cherry fruit rounded out this outstanding wine. The balance of sweetness of fruit in both these Echezeauxs was spectacular. Damn, I need to drink his wines more often before they are all gone for good (95+).

The next night we replayed our first night’s version of a tripleheader, beginning with an unidentifiable Rayas. This believed-to-be 1969 Rayas could not be authenticated as the label and vintage label were so tattered, and Rayas did not brand their corks until the 1990s. We saw a faint ‘6’ on the vintage label, and the Man with the Golden Cellar deduced it was probably 1969 based on the quantities he thought he should have of this wine. Well, I couldn’t sell it, so there was only one thing left to do! The Rayas had sweet, tender fruit with a touch of sulfur and/or lit match, very sweet overall in that Châteauneuf way. Smooth and tasty with tender leather flavors, stone and that kinky Rayas Grenache, this was indubitably the one and only Rayas, full of strawberry fruit. Sweet cream and almost chapitalized in its personality, it was very good with its pruney and ‘sweet cerise’ flavors. It was an elegant, classic Rayas, and we’ll give the ’69 credit for it (92).

For almost three days, I heard the owner talk about Leroy, how fabulous he thought her wines were, how Leroy always wins every head-to-head tasting in the 1990s that he ever does, how her wines were so undervalued relative to , etc. ‘Can we drink some Leroy already?’ I asked. ‘How about a 1985? I have had some questions about that vintage recently.’ The 1985 Leroy Chambertin was full of game, vitamins, rust, leather and iron in its spiny nose. It had the power and terroir of Chambertin, very full and frontal with roof-licking definition yet a soft, graceful finish typical of 1985. Vitamins and iron flavors took center stage, proving that Chambertin is good for you (95)!

We got sidetracked on some of the owner’s favorite Burgundy producers. Sentimentally married to Jayer, his first love, he did concede that La Tâche and Romanée-Conti were the best terroirs and most hedonisitic Burgundies, but Leroy was now his favorite producer for sheer quality today. Rousseau and Dujac rounded out his top five, while Méo, Roumier and Roty were in his honorable eight, and he did say that he was probably forgetting an obvious one or two. It is tough to argue those eight producers out of anyone’s top ten; personally, I would throw in Vogue and Mugnier, and probably Drouhin as well…but I digress.

Did someone say Dujac? A 1990 Dujac Clos de la Roche was ‘better than ‘78’ in my host’s opinion. Having sourced my two best ’78 Dujac experiences (98 and 97 points) from the Golden Cellar for two different ‘Top 100’ weekends, I was a bit skeptical about anything being better than 1978 for Dujac, but the 1990 came close. The nose was stem city with its main highway off of cinnamon avenue. There was that kiss of cedar wood, rose, more stem, garden, mint, ‘spearmint,’ and even pizza crust; there was a lot going on here. Flavors of rose, vitamins, earth, citrus skins and long cedar graced its palate. There was super length and phenomenal acidity. Super stylish and long, spiny and with incredible pitch, this one day may outshine that 1978 after all; whoever buys these see me in twelve years. Please (96+)! !!
On the fifth night, we slowed it down a bit with only, only a 1987 H. Jayer Vosne-Romanée Cros Parantoux. It was another masterful wine from the master himself. Jayer is vintage-proof! Year after year, he produces, and his wines start to get magical around age twenty ”“ never drink them young! The ’87 had a phenomenal nose of purple and rose flowers mixed with Thai peanut, carob and musk. There was great pitch to its elegantly sweet fruit. The wine was pure, delicate yet strong. Rich, round and delicious, there was bright fruit and vitamin flavors, bordering on a benevolent metal/minerals thing. This was still great wine (93).
And on the sixth day, we partied. After the work was done, that is. Tonight would be three bottles, and a magnum on top. We started with an unbelievably good 1996 D’Auvenay (Leroy) Mazis-Chambertin. D’Auvenay is an estate-owned property owned and made by Leroy. It had a big nose, with huge amounts of rusty, deep fruit, plum and cassis to be exact, with minerals and a hint of chocolate. Only 870 bottles of this wine were made. Welcome to Burgundy, the microscopic labyrinth to greatness. There was also a touch of gas and popcorn to its nose, but it did not bother me. The wine had rich, mind-boggling concentration and was mouth coating, staining and gripping, but it still had the balance of a world class Burgundy. I could not stop drinking it. This secondary soy/hoisin and rice vinegar complexity emerged with time (96).

That was just the warmup to the featured matchup, the 1996 vs. Leroy Richebourg. Let the games begin! They were served blind, but it was immediately obvious which was which. Our host remarked on the size of the Leroy’s cork and how it was 15% bigger than that of the ; he was certain Leroy would age better due to this fact, but it is tough to argue with the ageability of . The 1996 Richebourg was sensual and classic in the nose with a splash more perfume than usual. It was a lean, mean rose and rust machine with great acidity. It was wintry in a fresh, wet snow way. Minerals were crackling underneath. It was exquisite in the mouth, ‘everything it is supposed to be,’ someone shared. It was a bit lean yet still somehow meaty, racy yet its finish slow and unwinding. Rose, citrus, leather, vitamin, mineral and stem flavors were all there in this budding beauty (95).

The 1996 Leroy Richebourg had a big, cedary nose full of fir spice, cherry oil and forest characteristics. The palate was stunning, a ‘wow’ wine if there ever were one. It was like oil of wine in the mouth, super-concentrated, thick, basically ridiculous. Rusty, rich and full of vitamins and minerals, the Leroy was absolutely delicious, bullying the out of the way (97).

Well, that was certainly game, set, match. It will be interesting to see how these two develop, and to see how other vintages and other head-to-head comparisons of Leroy fare against the best of the best since she started making her estate wines in 1988.

Feeling frisky, the Man with the Golden Cellar returned with a magnum of 1978 Romanée-Conti. Say hello to my big friend. The ’78 was slow to unravel out of magnum; a lean nose started to unfold slowly into meat and light brown sugar aromas, thickening into exotic oil and syrup edges. It had the rust, the tar, the menthol and all the flavor components of great, old R-C. Its razor sharp finish left no doubt as to its greatness (96).

I had to fly back across the country to New York the next day for two nights in New York to make our first September catalogue before heading all the way back and then some to Shanghai. That catalogue production was a twenty-hour day on Monday, three hours of sleep, and then a full day Tuesday before a night flight. Now you can begin to understand how the last two months of my life were. Actually, it worked quite well because I slept for ten or eleven hours of the fifteen hour flight. I had been officially KO’d by a double auction whammy.

PART TWO

My second week of work in the Golden Cellar was on the way back from Asia. I was a bit worse for wear; my trip to Asia wasn’t short on wine or late nights, and my grand finale in Singapore had me tasting about forty wines in three nights. I really needed to dry out, and I was very jet lagged as well, so I insisted on no wine for a few days.

Actually, I had had one very special bottle in Asia courtesy of the Golden Cellar, a bottle that had been halfway across the world and back. To Taiwan and back to be exact. This 1971 La Tâche with its Taiwanese strip label was gorgeous; great fill, cork branded correctly, everything about it looked heaven sent, and I was very proud of myself with the notion that I was going to bring this bottle back to Taiwan and its original resting place upon initially coming across it my first week in the Golden Cellar. When I finally opened it, this was a bottle that was definitely shaken, not stirred. Since one cannot carry a bottle of wine onto the plane anymore, this bottle went into the luggage and not only went from New York to Shanghai, but also then from Shanghai to Hong Kong to Taipei the same day it was being drunk, and the bottle was still spectacular. I am not sure that bottle shock is something I believe anymore! Yes, it was a bit murky from the sediment being integrated into the wine, but it did not take away from the wine at all. The experience reminded me of a ’45 Haut-Brion that I had to ship overnight for a dinner a couple of years ago that was also phenomenal. The LT’s nose was spectacular, incredible, amazing… insert your own superlative here. Rose and oil were first and foremost, then there was this ménage a toi of citrus, leather and cedar, you know, the tasteful kind, ha-ha. The vitamins, minerals, spice and overall depth were extraordinary. ‘This is the 71 LT I know and love,’ I wrote. The musk qualities were bringing sexy back, and the wine itself was bordering on a sexual experience. This was sheer liquid nobility, and all these observations are just describing the aromas! The palate kept pace with the nose; first and foremost, there was rust, citrus and spine galore. Its t ‘n a was enormous, searing my mouth with its laser-like precision and possessing enough acidity to go another 36 years. There was a touch of vanilla and cream soda, and a also hint of eucalyptus. Rich and rusty with great spice, the ’71 La Tâche also had a hint of tomato stew, in a good way. What a wine (98).

Back in the USA, at the end of my second week of work in the Golden Cellar, I had gotten my sea legs back and was ready for a weekend night of imbibing and experiencing with a very special guest, Wilf Jaeger. Wilf is one of America’s prominent and most respected collectors, and close friend of the Man with the Golden Cellar. It is always great to share some bottles with him. Little did I know I would be sharing ten! Amongst four of us. About fifteen glasses each… perfect :).

Wilf is also a master chef and was donning the apron on this night, which started innocently enough with a 2002 Sauzet Chevalier-Montrachet. Wound and wicked, its nose was very intense, full of alcohol and anise, pungent and with plenty of taut citrus. Its palate was long, steely and minerally yet meaty, tangy and citrusy. Its finish was stony; this wine was still so fresh and so young and outstanding stuff (95).

Next up was a 1985 C. Noëllat Richebourg. This was the property that Leroy bought and now calls her own Richebourg. The nose was milky and gamy, with lots of sweet cherry and musky fruit. A bit of earth and tobacco rounded out the nose, but this nose was really about its tender, sweet fruit, really exotic with purple and boysenberry twists. In the mouth, it was classic, gamy Burgundy, twisted and full of citric complexities. Menthol and earth flavors graced its gritty, earthy and delicious finish (94).

It was time for a Richebourg showdown again; this time 1993 was the vintage of choice. Again, wines were served blind; again, it was easy to tell which was which. The 1993 Richebourg was shy, coiled and stemmy in its nose, with a milky, rosy and earthy complexity. There were secondary aromas of tea, wood, more stems and sweet cinnamon. In the mouth, the wine was wound and tangy, with a touch too much wood at first, very cedary in its flavor profile. The wine was undoubtedly excellent, with great acidity, and it continued to get more and more complex. Big, cedary and spiny, the palate also had traces of cinnamon and kisses of cedar, and its vitamin components became huge with time, and its musk flavors fattened out and developed nicely (93).

Once again, the 1993 Leroy Richebourg bullied the out of the way. The Leroy had a big, beefy, smoky nose with exotic soy and blue fruit aromas, along with black fruits, sweet mesquite, almost a blood orange and some white chocolate. How’s that for complex? It reminded me of something that Joel Robuchon might create if this wine were food! The palate was long and very dry, with great length as a matter of fact, along with beefy flavors. Wilf remarked that the Leroy was ‘more tannic, both young and brilliant.’ It was balanced in a Shaquille O’Neal way, like points and rebounds. The Man with the Golden Cellar remarked, ‘The ’93 Leroys could be the best wines in my cellar once they are fully mature, but the ‘96s and ‘99s will be more appealing for a while. Look at 1962. It took 3 5-40 years for people to recognize that vintage, and 1993 Leroys will be the same way. People do not know how good these wines really are.’ He went on to share how Larry Stone told him once that the 1996 Leroy Chambertin was the greatest young red Burgundy that he had had in a long time. Citrus, tang and smoke flavors rounded out this complex wine. Wilf added, ‘the wine has concentration and ‘puissance.’ This is what Burgundy lives to be. It makes me want to ring my tongue out to get the last drop.’ High praise, indeed (96+).

It was time for some old stuff; our palates had been sufficiently warmed up. A 1959 Leroy Richebourg had an incredible nose, with lots of game and that sweet ’59 fruit, along with rose, cherry, vanilla and lots of sex appeal. The nose was also creamy, with nice nut and earth behind it. Citrus and tobacco also made their presence known. The palate was not as spectacular as the nose, drier and with more citrus flavors. Wilf admired its ‘lacy and elegant’ style and its ‘high acid,’ continuing, ‘it has the cut like the greatest ‘59s, as well as ripeness.’ As far as that old Leroy magic, he reasoned, ‘Pre-1960s old Burgundy is like sausage; don’t ask what’s in it.’ On fire, he lastly praised its ‘nervous quality, more of a violin than a bass’ (94).

A super rare bottle of 1957 D’Angerville Volnay Caillerets was next. The color was pale and almost tea-like, yet the wine was gorgeous. It had a rusty nose with vitamin and cedar aromas, tender and old yet still fresh. ‘Elegant and soft, pure magic,’ Wilf interjected. It reminded Wilf of ’72, and he found it ‘pretty close to 5 stars,’ as did I. It was delicious and extraordinary, a wine for those that ‘love it tender,’ with great pine flavors and pitch at age fifty, even though this was supposed to be a wine long gone by now (94).

A 1969 Roumier Musigny was a curious fellow, an odd bottle that had the Domaine label yet the negociant vintage label. I was a bit suspicious, and initially refused the wine for consignment, so out came a bottle, and out came the cork. Wilf confirmed that Christophe’s father did indeed sell three barrels of Bonnes Mares to Remoissenet yet bottled at Roumier; Remoissenet, however, brought their own caps and corks and vintage labels. It looks like they got their hands on a little Musigny as well. This wine was spectacular, blowing away all four of us. It had an incredible nose full of rose, oil, meat, game, musk and leather. In the mouth, it was also oily, meaty and gamy with incredible richness and meat on its bones. Thick and lip-smackingly delicious, this was some serious stuff, and it was tasted after seven other serious Burgs. ‘How many more bottles of this are left?’ I asked. Duty called, and these incredible bottles had to go in now (97).

The 1947 Vogüé Musigny Vieilles Vignes was a bottle with an 8cm fill to which I said ‘no thanks,’ which would have been one of the most colossal mistakes I ever made. The nose was absolutely incredible; oily, thick, nutty and sappy. The musk and t ‘n a were divine; in fact, this was one of the most amazing noses I had ever encountered. Rust, spice, everything you could want in your Burgundy was here. The palate was thick as a brick with flavors of rose, oil, leather and game. Rich and spectacular, this even surpassed the mind-boggling bottle of ’69 Roumier Musigny we just had. I still feel like I need to write another couple of paragraphs extolling the virtues of this wine. I quickly accepted the other three bottles from this batch of four (98).

Now we were officially giddy and a bit tipsy as well, so we made perhaps a bad decision and popped open a 2000 Lafleur, which was actually better the next day. It was tough to wrap our palates around this infant after so many great old wines, but there was no doubting the enormous potential therein. It was deep, unresolved wealth; that is the best way I can put it, and about all I could muster up at this late stage of the evening (96+).

Somehow, one more bottle made its way open, a 2002 Dujac Chambolle-Musigny Gruenchers. I believe curiosity killed the Wilf. Forest and cherry aromas, forward yet reserved fruit with leather and earth ticklers in this smooth, round and precocious red (93).

That was one heck of a hangover the next day.

The wines from ‘The Golden Cellar’ spoke for themselves, as do the 112 photos we have in the catalog. This is undoubtedly one of the all-time greatest offerings of fine and rare wine ever assembled, an opportunity knocking loudly this October, two weeks from today.

www.goldencellar.com

I scraped myself up and out of Hong Kong to go grab the ferry to Macau. I later found out that helicopters are also available and a lot faster, although the boat trip wasn’t that bad, lasting only an hour. The ferries leave from Hong Kong every thirty minutes, twenty-four hours a day, and they do have a first class section with a little more leg room.

However, I will definitely never again take the ferry to Macau, because customs for the ferry riders was an absolute nightmare, zoo, anarchy ”“ take your pick. It was like a mad dash of lemmings to get to the customs lines, bottlenecking into a herd of unsupervised people just trying to even get to the lines through a narrow passageway. Can somebody put Steve Wynn or Sheldon Adelstein on that? I actually flipped out on some guy, who basically was pushing his way through and around people to the point where I hit the boiling point. ‘Don’t be an animal!’ I barked. ‘We are human! We are all trying to go here!’ He looked at me quizzically, obviously bereft of knowledge of the English language. He’s lucky he didn’t give me any lip, grrrrrrr. Maybe it was just me, but there seemed to be a recurring lack of sense for personal space throughout the whole trip. I often wished I had a radio that could play The Police’s ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me’ whenever I was encroached upon. I guess many of the bigger cities could be considered overcrowded, so perhaps it is not a big deal to everyone in Asia. Personally, I’m like a fine wine; I like to breathe! Anyway, I finally got through and on an actual customs line, and about twenty minutes later I was on my way to the Lisboa, Macau’s original casino. I figured I could get the Wynn’s in Vegas anytime, so why not get a taste of Macau’s original big fish.

Macau is basically two or three islands (I can’t remember but I think it is three) , the two main ones connected by three giant and visually exciting bridges. The main island where everyone lands is basically a five minute strip of casinos, notably the Sands, Galaxy, Wynn’s and Lisboa (and the new one they are completing, the Grand Lisboa) , while the second island is home to the just opened Venetian and others I can’t remember, with a lot more development in progress. There is a giant tourist tower to look out over all of Macau, a Fisherman’s Wharf complex, a famous massage parlor (sorry forget the name and didn’t go) , and some local commerce, ie, restaurants, shops etc. That’s about it. Some of the countryside away from the casinos is quite beautiful, especially the views and beaches overlooking the South China Sea, and there is a Westin tucked away on the other side of the second island that looked rather tranquil and a nice place to stay if you wanted to be away from the action or were to bring your kids there, but then again why would you want to do either of those if you made the effort of going to Macau? In the shadows of some of the giant casinos are still some run down and old apartment buildings that just don’t seem to fit in the landscape, but things are changing quickly, and I am quite sure that most of them will be replaced over the next few years with bigger and better things. That seems to be the trend out there.

The development in Macau is staggering. There is construction everywhere, both big-time and small such as local schools getting redone. Casino after casino after casino is coming. MGM will be the next to open. The Venetian is the first of fourteen, yes fourteen, hotels and casinos being built by the Sands, including a St. Regis, a Shangri-La, a Raffles and even a Sheraton, each costing roughly $10-12 billion to develop. Three years ago, when the Sands recouped their entire investment and then some in their first year’s profits, the floodgates opened, and the West started bringing a lot of water.

Despite Robuchon having a restaurant in the Lisboa (I’ll get to that great meal in a minute) , Macau is not really about the food and wine scene (just yet) , nor it is about the traditional tourism business with activities galore (just yet) , although the Vegas casinos are trying to change those landscapes with their own blueprints of how-to-run a casino/resort/lifestyle destination. Macau is about one thing for the most part: hardcore Chinese gamblers, 80% of whom are playing Baccarat, many of whom are smoking up a storm, hack wheeze. Macau surpassed Las Vegas last year in money gambled, but there are virtually no non-gaming revenues in Macau. The Chinese have a passion for gambling, and it is illegal in the mainland. A short trip to Macau and voila, one has legalized gambling. I read that the average stay is one and one-quarter days. Many of these gamblers, accordingly, do not even rent hotel rooms and go as far as packing their own lunches. The Chinese have been taught to be frugal, generation after generation, and when they come to gamble, they come to gamble.

Now don’t get me wrong, Macau is still a fun place, full of energy and with a few things to see, but if you don’t gamble (and the games are often different and predominantly Asian ones) , and/or aren’t taking care of business of some kind, then there might not be that much to do for you (just yet). Macau is definitely coming of age, however, and also cleaning up its act. Ten years ago, crime and streetwalkers were as common as dim sum and baccarat. Now, it seems quite safe, although I really did not do any night crawling there. The city does light up at night, Sin City style, and there is definitely a lot of energy out and about, although there is really no traditional nightlife in Macau; it does not really work yet because the Chinese come to gamble, and the Wynn’s already shut down its ‘Tryst’ nightclub that is packed every night in Vegas. The club scene is rather private, and I am far from a high-roller. One of the casinos said they had a nightclub, but it was only for the clients that spent $500,000 and up! I suppose it was for the best, especially with what next week had in store for me, but at the time I did not know the future and was sniffing around a little bit after dinner. Like I said, the Chinese come here to gamble, and it reminded me more of Atlantic City than Las Vegas, attracting more of a local and neighboring crowd, rather than the international jet-setting crowd.

So here comes Sheldon Adelstein, determined that there is more to Macau than just gambling, and that even if there isn’t, they will be just fine. The thought is the more money that more Chinese make, which is happening everyday, the more they will come to Macau to gamble, but it is obvious that part of the Vegas casinos’ plan is to make Macau a place that not only attracts the hardcore gamblers, but also one that attracts more of an international (including more of Asia) crowd that will also spend money on food, wine and entertainment.

Friday night I met with a good client of mine, and we headed out to dinner to enjoy some fine, local cuisine. We went to one of the better Chinese restaurants in Macau, I forget the name, but it reminded me a bit of Shun Lee in New York. The place was buzzing, and we soon became instant celebrities when my newfound friend pulled out a couple of bottles of fine Bordeaux.

The restaurant was very traditional Chinese, and we were the only people drinking wine. I could see all the looks we were getting, and I saw firsthand how wine is becoming a sign of status and prestige in the Chinese culture. It is coming. There was a lot of curiosity about the bottles, or possibly the really handsome white guy J. But seriously, when you think about it, wine is really only a twenty-five year phenomenon in the US, and something that only truly heated up over the last ten to fifteen. In the 1970s, my father once gave away wines from Romanee Conti in Christmas gift orders because he was tired of looking at the bottles. No one was buying them. If you put that in the context of what is similarly happening in Asia now, one can realize how the wine world is about to get a lot smaller, and there’s already not a lot of room for extra capacity at that top level. That is why I remain incredibly bullish over the finest and rarest wines in the world. Forget your properties, forget your stocks, and JUST BUY WINE, BABY!

Anyway, sorry for that station identification break; let’s talk about the wines, shall I? That’s what I am supposed to do, I know. The 1990 L’Evangile has always been one of my pet wines, and I have always considered it to be undervalued. If 1961 L’Evangile is one-third the price of 1961 Petrus, then how is 1990 L’Evangile one-twelfth the price of the ’90 Petrus? There is an equivalent qualitative analysis that can be made between those two years, and other years between the two producers. I guess L’Evangile is one of those rare Bordeaux that is actually undervalued, ahem ahem. Can you say market correction? Sorry, I’m digressing again. The 1990 L’Evangile was classic, very expressive with lots of tannins and alcohol in the nose. It also had luscious fruit, a plum, cassis and black olive trifecta. There were secondary brick, wheat and nut aromas. Its fruit was meltingly sweet, and red mixed in with purple and a splash of black. It was quite explosive on the finish with its tannins and acidity, yet it was still balanced with a wealth of a fruit rainbow. Green olive flavors graced its finish. It was just flat-out delicious wine, still sturdy, long and fine. Some food toned down the (positive) aggressive nature of its t ‘n a qualities, but its acidity stayed long and scintillating (96).

What was this, 1988 Lafite Rothschild? Ok, we all know that China and Lafite are like Romeo and Juliet (or is it the other way around?) , but no one attacked our table or ripped off our clothes, so the supply hasn’t dried up too significantly (just yet). The ’88 had a wonderful nose, very smoky in addition to the usual cedar, mineral and tobacco. It has nice vim, but I wouldn’t call it vigor. There was also some exotic chestnut on a secondary bed of cassis. Pencil was there, along with good spice. Long and hearty, the ’88 Lafite had good intensity without being intense. Carob, earth, tobacco and a kiss of wood flavors rounded out this excellent wine. My friend felt the wine still had another 15-20 years before it will start to plateau and/or gracefully decline, and I couldn’t argue with that. The ’88 Lafite was flirting with being outstanding with its carob flavors, light dust and slaty, minerally finish. There was still plenty of meat on dem der bones (94).

A half-bottle of 2001 Rieussec rounded out our evening. I generally don’t do dessert or dessert wine, as I find the sugar too much for me after a big meal, but I do appreciate the sweet stuff even though my stomach does not. The Rieussec was such a baby. Candle wax was incredibly primary, along with ‘nougat, honeycomb and butterscotch.’ Orange marmelade and apricot flashed sweetness in the nose, along with ‘macadamia nuts,’ musk and more honeycomb. ‘Ocean sea salt and fish’ was the last descriptors to come out of my friend’s increasing comments, and I totally saw them all. In the mouth, the Rieussec was rich, balanced and oily without being cloying and heavy. One could feel the potential (96). It was truly great, but on cue, I started to feel a little woozy. The week in Hong Kong really took a toll on me, and here I was in Macau, sin city of the Far East, but I was ready for bed. Sometimes, a good night’s sleep is the best time one can have.

About twelve hours later, I slowly worked my way into the day, feeling much better after finally having a good night’s sleep. After answering some emails and doing a bit of work, I decided to go and get a massage in the spa at the Lisboa. Refreshed, I went to an afternoon meeting and then proceeded to join someone else for dinner at Robuchon in the Lisboa, where tucked away from all the noise and action of Macau, there is one of the world’s greatest wine lists, a wine list fit for the gastronomic genius of Robuchon, nestled carefully within the tranquil and distinguished settings of the third floor at the Lisboa.

After about fifteen intense and hardcore minutes with the massive wine list, I settled on a 1982 Drouhin Montrachet Marquis de Laguiche. It had a fabulous, smoky nose and reeked of Montrachet with its minerals and smoke aromas. Sweet butter and hints of tropical fruits (mango and orange, to be exact) were behind the smoke and minerals. Its forward fruit and pungent intensity were equally matched by a smooth and soft palate, one at perfect maturity. A nice nutty finish and a kiss of acidity rounded out this absolutely delicious wine. Touches of the usual suspects also graced the palate; corn, butter, diesel and a touch of minerals were all singing on key and in harmony (93).

We were in the last third of the seventeen or so course tasting menu by the time we finished the Montrachet and were in the mood for a glass of red. Since we probably were not going to finish a whole bottle, we opted for a value selection, and Italy was calling with some tremendous buys on the list. Unfortunately, it looked like someone beat us to them, and after missing out on a couple of selections, we settled on a 1994 Williams Selyem Pinot Noir Rochioli Vineyard. I often grab a bottle of domestic Pinot when in the mood for some casual drinking. I can still appreciate a good, tasty bottle of wine, even if it is twenty bucks a bottle, etc. Now, the Williams Selyem is not that much of a value, but I was quite curious to see how well one of California’s premier producers of Pinot would be holding up at age thirteen. The nose was high-toned with a touch of gas and kernel, and a bit of an artificial edge, to be frank. There were also vitamins, and my friend found it ‘piggy.’ He doesn’t eat pork, either, so I don’t think that was a compliment. Flavors of bright citrus and sour cherry marked its soft palate, and the wine passed the gas from its nose to its palate. It was good, but merely just that, and the more I tasted it, the less I was interested (87).

Our French Sommelier wrapped up our evening, defending the Williams Selyem saying, ‘Pinot Noir is a special woman that needs to be taken care of, it is not Cabernet.’ I will leave all inferences up to you!

Fat and happy, I retreated again for another quiet night in Macau. It was time for Tokyo tomorrow.