Steve Edmunds
Steve Edmunds
I was invited to dinner by a few colleagues last night at Chez Panisse, and got a chance to try a few wines by which I was immensely impressed. Part of the reason for the celebration was that the number of people now producing Gamay in California has now grown from one to four, the other three being the ones who invited me. We began with N/V Marie Courtin "Resonance," which I greatly enjoyed; it seemed to manage the paradox of oxidation and freshness in a luminous way, up on it's toes, and dancing like a Spring breeze, with just a tiny edge of fading Winter in the background.
There was a 2004 Bienvenue-Batard Montrachet from leFlaive that had marvelous texture, but seemed to me to need a long time yet for its nose to begin to sort itself out. On the other hand, the 1992 Dauvissat "Les Preuses" was utterly enchanting. Had it been the only bottle of the evening, it would have been enough, by plenty, merely to smell.
I brought a '95 ESJ Zinfandel, from Amador County's Story Vineyard, which is a favorite, for me, among my library wines, for its gentleness and perfume. There was also a 1979 Volnay from Pousse d'Or that was still young and tight, and promising a lot of pleasure some decades hence.
Then a wine I've dreamed of tasting for quite some time, an older (1985) Cote Rotie from Robert Jasmin, that wasn't, in fact, old at all; seeming to be jewel-like, and perfectly put together for, perhaps those same future decades already mentioned. We also opened a 2000 Los Robles Viejos, the first red I'd ever made from grapes grown in limestone soils, and it, too, seems to have many years ahead of it. There was a time, a couple of years back, when this wine seemed like it might be getting ready to fade (it's made from the very first grapes that the vineyard produced), yet it has somehow gathered itself nicely, and seems fresh and not in any hurry at all. There were some bottles of Morgon that, thankfully, were not opened; even the bottles already mentioned were not more than about half drunk at the end of the evening (though I'd guess that the four of us were), with the exception of the Jasmin and the Dauvissat, and, come to think of it, the Zin, too. But we shared with a few other folks, including the sommelier.
I've been in the wine biz 40 years, now, and I'm not sure I have the stamina for evenings like this more than once or twice a year, but it was a lovely evening. Strange, sure, to taste a wine I imagined as a kind of "dream bottle," and find it not yet welcoming. Redeeming, absolutely, to taste a wine that was singing like a nightingale. Paradox, got a hold on me.
There was a 2004 Bienvenue-Batard Montrachet from leFlaive that had marvelous texture, but seemed to me to need a long time yet for its nose to begin to sort itself out. On the other hand, the 1992 Dauvissat "Les Preuses" was utterly enchanting. Had it been the only bottle of the evening, it would have been enough, by plenty, merely to smell.
I brought a '95 ESJ Zinfandel, from Amador County's Story Vineyard, which is a favorite, for me, among my library wines, for its gentleness and perfume. There was also a 1979 Volnay from Pousse d'Or that was still young and tight, and promising a lot of pleasure some decades hence.
Then a wine I've dreamed of tasting for quite some time, an older (1985) Cote Rotie from Robert Jasmin, that wasn't, in fact, old at all; seeming to be jewel-like, and perfectly put together for, perhaps those same future decades already mentioned. We also opened a 2000 Los Robles Viejos, the first red I'd ever made from grapes grown in limestone soils, and it, too, seems to have many years ahead of it. There was a time, a couple of years back, when this wine seemed like it might be getting ready to fade (it's made from the very first grapes that the vineyard produced), yet it has somehow gathered itself nicely, and seems fresh and not in any hurry at all. There were some bottles of Morgon that, thankfully, were not opened; even the bottles already mentioned were not more than about half drunk at the end of the evening (though I'd guess that the four of us were), with the exception of the Jasmin and the Dauvissat, and, come to think of it, the Zin, too. But we shared with a few other folks, including the sommelier.
I've been in the wine biz 40 years, now, and I'm not sure I have the stamina for evenings like this more than once or twice a year, but it was a lovely evening. Strange, sure, to taste a wine I imagined as a kind of "dream bottle," and find it not yet welcoming. Redeeming, absolutely, to taste a wine that was singing like a nightingale. Paradox, got a hold on me.