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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.