The hills are alive.

Something interesting happened in France in 2011. Actually I'm sure a tons of interesting stuff happened but this particular story revolves around Burgundy. The powers that be decided to change the rules surrounding the lowliest appellation in this venerable region. Out went Grand Ordinaire and all it's negative connotations and in came this.

Coteaux Bourguignons (Burgundy Hills, for the uninitiated) allows winemakers that rarest of all things in France. Freedom. A variety of blends of all colors are now available to Burgundian winemakers and I thought I'd try the offering from famed negociant, Louis Jadot. Chardonnay. Aligote. As soon as I saw these words on the label I decided to buy. This is precisely the kind of thing that the French Wine authorities were trying to achieve by implementing these new rules. Two grapes grown in the same region but rarely seen in a blend. This is as rare as hens teeth in Japan. I was uncommonly excited to taste this for the first time

What a load of old rubbish. Honestly, this is appalling. Words fail me. Not only badly made (a wine with this flavor profile should have a higher degree of acid), but poorly conceived. It would have been easy for a firm of the scale and experience of Jadot to source enough of the right kind of grapes to make a half decent wine. Probably a half decent wine with a degree of interest. No, this is not even a half decent wine. I cannot recall the last time I (and you too, dear wine lover) had had my intelligence insulted in such a base and unimaginative way as it's been impugned by the existence of this tramp's urine. Fat Chardonnay on the nose. An angry fatness that screams "stay away" in an ever louder and more shrill tones until you do exactly that. The first sip bores, then gives you indigestion. Short and hateful. I'm done with this wine. Reefer shipped and bought from a respected outlet. It's not just a bad bottle. I'm going to the convenience store to buy a can of Coke to dull the agony.

Fading Gracefully

The thing is about Bordeaux, it's well, er , how can I put this? A bit pompous, stuffy conservative, out of date, irrelevant and annoyingly backward in the way it evaluates it's wines. This can be most strikingly seen when considering the Grand Cru Classe of 1855.
(If you're familiar with this part, skip to the text after the picture.) At this time some bright spark (Napoleon III) decided it'd be a good idea to place the best wine producers in the Medoc, the left bank of the river Gironde, into classified categories. This became the the 5 rank system that we all know and loathe today. It's remained broadly unchanged since that time.

So, what happens over time? Producers get good, they go bad. Chateau change hands, get handed down to an idiot son, or the biodynamic guys next door start making better wine.

Whatever happens the classification stays the same. This surely benefits Chateau Croizet-Bages. Check Cellar Tracker. For years the best that could be said for this old Medoc name is that they under-perform for the money. The worst that can be said is un-publishable on a family-friendly blog. Look at the top of the label. GRAND CRU CLASSE. For ¥5500 from my local wine emporium it better emphasize the Grand.

First impressions are good and there is a vivid blast of squishy red fruit upon opening. It's broad and acidic in that electric way all red wine needs to be to excite. It's all that I'd imagined it could be. Call of nature. Return to living room to find that this stuff is belting out the stone fruit. My temporary tasting room smells like a large group of plums has formed a rugby team, performed a successful tour of south east England and has now decided to get get drunk and watch Youtube on my couch. Lurching towards my glass. took a hefty swig of this stuff and immediately started to dance around my amateur review process. This is a tough one to review. Not since Erwin Schrodinger took a dislike to his pet has there been a more dichotomous position.

First the positive. There are a ton of winemakers around the world who'd love to marry this wine's Old World mystique and New World ease. This is a wine that is languid and textured with soft tannins, licquorice and sweet pipe tobacco. It's also a wine with persistant red plum, a hint of cassis and a not unpleasant grapiness that is super easy to drink. I've had two good size glasses and I know I'm going to finish this bottle tonight. I can easily imagine this going with a ton of different foods, best suited, however, to meats with a sweater sauce. Some of the essence of the 25% new oak is present and, curiously perhaps, is the best integrated and most "expensive" aspect of this wine.

Now the negatives. Shouldn't a Grand Cru Classé offer a little more than this? Despite its deliciousness, this wine lacks the complexity, the intrigue to raise it above a lot of better priced offerings from Australia, the U.S., and latterly South America. Doesn't Croizet-Bages, in its drinkable yet yawn inducing competency, devalue the whole idea of the class of '55? It should unarguably offer the drinker something unique, and here, I fear the USP simply isn't strong enough. Where Bordeaux ought to differ markedly from the international crowd is on the nose (especially left bank blends). Here the aromas are too dominated by lush red fruit and the slightly elevated alcohol level to even offer much of a difference. The old school paper money funk is missing.

To buy or not to buy? As long as people are willing to pay the classy prices for the classy names, the Grand Cru Classé will always be a jealously guarded bauble. The question you should ask yourself is "Will I be drinking this with someone who cares about the classification?". Answer that and you have a good indication of whether or not you should buy this wine.

I'll tell you what I've also had recently,

Casarena Malbec Jumilla's Vinyard. An Argentine wine with none of the pretension, but all of the presence in the glass of the Croizet-Bages. 30% cheaper. Bang up to date.

 

 

"We found it in the back room."

Do you ever have that worn out, world weary feeling where everything seems altogether too much effort? The world just seems like it's draped in a beige cloth of mediocrity. Fortunately this kind of malaise isn't something I'm given to readily, but I make an exception when I trawl the shelves of high street wine shops. I just don't know who buys this junk.
As I was digging around for something interesting to drink in my local Liquor Mountain I was beginning to notice the beige feeling descend. Then something unusual happened. I chanced upon something that made me stop, double take and then immediately pick up the bottle and take it to the cashier.

Rasteau is an appellation in the Rhone valley long known for producing sweet fortified wine. I've never tried it, nor do I know anyone who ever has. Not my bag anyway. The thing is, for a long time the winemakers of that area were lobbying the French Government to allow them to sell their dry table wines under the Rasteau name. I suppose they were sick of having to sell them as simply Côtes du Rhône (or from '96, Côtes du Rhône Village) . In 2010 the Local wine makers of the village of Rasteau got their wish. Their very own table wine appellation! That makes this bottle of Domaine de la Combe Dieu somewhat of an oddity in Japan. A wine from 2000. Labelled as a Village.

When I popped it open two things hit me. Sharp. Wood. There was an initial hit of something that at first whiff had the feeling of vinegar about it. Before I was able to recoil in horror it had passed. I hope it was just some sort of residue on the cork or in the capsule. The woodyness was a little more in keeping with what I might have expected. It wasn't the wood tone of an oak barrel aged wine, it was more the soggy bret funk of a dead and decaying tree stump. Not a great start.

In the glass this quickly blew off revealing...Not a lot if truth be told. The nose of this wine is unmistakably Grenache with it's bright sand hits of cherry and redcurrent. A little leathery, but altogether muted. "Fully mature" would be a polite way to put it. In fairness I don't expect the winemakers at the Domaine expected this bottle to be matured in an uncontrolled fashion in a back ally in Osaka for fifteen years. Considering this the nose has born up fairly well. It's just a bit boring.

It's unfair to judge the colour as well. The cork had a tone of wine crystals on and from the look of them there's going to be a ton of sediment in this yet to be finished bottle. I rushed this home and opened it so I had expected murk. 

As this wine hits the tongue there's a tingle. It still has a zing of acid left after all these years. It's the key to this win and it's really what stops it from being a dead loss. The acid combines well with the matured fruit of the Grenache (I really don't think there's much else in here other than the Grenache. Perhaps a little Syrah.) and I must say this bottle goes down rather nicely. Complexity? Look elsewhere. Length? The structure of the tannins just aren't up to the task. Interest? I suppose so. I can't recommend it purely because for every bottle on the shelf of your local Liquor Mountain in decent condition, I imagine that there are three others that are either cooked, oxidised or corked. It's that kind of wine. It's that kind of shop. If, however, you have a nose for gambling and ¥2000 to spare, it might brighten a meal for you. Leave it upright for a couple of days to sort the sediment though. There's a good chap.

Domaine de la Combe Dieu Rasteau 2000. Worn out, world weary. but certainly not a beige wine.