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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