At the first of the frenzy of Burgundy 2002 tastings currently being held in London by wine merchants anxious to make up the shortfall engendered by the market's lukewarm reception of Bordeaux's 2002s, I was bearded by a reader who has just retired from London financial world and clearly has some wine drinking time on his hands.
"I don't want to read about Tesco," he began somewhat testily – and rather unnecessarily in my view since I mentioned the supermarket that sells about a quarter of all wine retailed in Britain a mere eight times in my recent four-week survey of 100 wines for the holidays.
"What I'm interested in at this time of year is which wines I should get out of storage for drinking over the next 12 months. And I'm sure other wine lovers would be interested too," he said expansively, adding as coup de grace, "Edmund Penning-Rowsell always used to write about that sort of thing."
Okay then, mate. In the hope that you represent an FT-reading constituency I offer you the following advice on those combinations of vintage and region that seem to my palate to be ready to drink.
All this of course with the major caveat that the grander and tougher examples tend to mature more slowly than average. Those lucky enough to have cellars full of vintages older than those specified here will know, I assume, what they should be drinking.
It is probably fair to assume that the bulk of the typical FT reader's cellar is red bordeaux, the wine that used to take at least 10 years to be even broachable but is being made today in an accelerated fashion designed to show well even (especially) from cask during the en primeur tastings just seven months after the harvest.
This has the possible disadvantage that we may never see the subtly nuanced like of delicious, fully mature wines from delicate vintages which manage to last 40 years and more (I am thinking here wistfully of a 1962 Las Cases enjoyed recently). It is too early to tell for sure how modern red bordeaux will age. The great winemaking revolution started only in the 1980s and was in full swing as recently as the 1990s.
But it has the advantage that modern red bordeaux is drinkable much younger than before, so it requires a much shorter investment of capital and time. The initially-overpriced 1997s, for example, have been drinking probably as well as most of them ever will for a year now. This is the youngest vintage I would choose to drink from a classed growth Bordeaux chateau or equivalent (though in France they are walloping down much younger vintages already).
I would hold on to any serious 2000, however deceptively delicious already, and to the solid 1999s for a year or two in the case of the lesser St-Emilions and until the end of the decade at least for the Léovilles of this world. I would expect to hold on to the 1998s for many a long year, especially the most successful, which tend to be on the right bank (St-Emilion/Pomerol rather than Médoc/Graves) in this particular vintage.
As for that fascinating pair, 1996 (in broad brushstrokes a left bank vintage) and 1995 (a right bank one), these should be left firmly in their unopened boxes. Much better to start drinking the admittedly much less inspiring 1994s which are already providing easy pleasure.
Most red bordeaux from the lacklustre trio 1991, 1993 and especially 1992 should be drunk now. There are always exceptions but these are the years I would be moving out of storage pretty smartish. Even François Mitjavile's exceptional Côtes de Bourg, Roc de Cambes, one of the best 1991 red bordeaux to have come my way, was already drinking well last year.
So far, there is an element of 'using up' in this advice rather than all-out encouragement to enjoy yourself. Blame Nature not me. At last, in our voyage backwards in time through the bordeaux cellar we encounter real bounty, three fine to great vintages in a row. I would drink most of these wines in the following order: the rich, round, almost burnt 1989s first; then the opulent, velvety 1990s and, almost concurrently, the 1988s which, as just about everywhere in France, have been marked throughout their lives by some of the firmest tannins ever. The 1988s, particularly the right bank wines, are (just) about starting to be a pleasure to drink – at last, while many of the left bank 1990s should still have a glorious future.
As for earlier vintages, the 1986s should be kept a while longer; the lovely 1985s are ripe for the drinking, as they have been for almost the last 15 years; the 1984s should be sold, given or served to your worst enemy; the 1983s and 1981s need drinking; and your 1982s, your accountant but not I would say, need selling.
Those discerning enough to have a cellar full of red burgundy are advised to drink recent vintages in the following approximate order: 1992, 1991, 1994, 2000, 1993, 1997, 1990, 1998, 1995, 1999, 1996, reserving the finest 1993s and 1990s for the grandest occasions this year with 1991s served to true burgundy cognoscenti and the 1998s et al ideally not broached until next year and beyond.
Something tells me that Rhone fans know how to manage their own cellars. Nor am I willing to devote a great deal of precious space to the grandest wine for serving with Rowley's scallops, white burgundy. Experience suggests that this is the shortest commodity in almost every cellar. For some reason wine collectors are either unwilling or unable to give the world's most collectible white wine much bottle maturation. My favourite white burgundy vintages for current drinking are 1997, 1993 and, such as still exist, 1992. Hold the 1995s if possible, and definitely the 1996s, though the 1999s are starting to come into their own.
Speaking of burgundy, I am currently immersing my palate in hundreds of examples from the heavily-touted 2002 vintage. Expect a report on this fascinating en primeur offering on Jan 31 in wine news and a much more detailed survey of hundreds of individual wines in purple pages at about the same time.
"I don't want to read about Tesco," he began somewhat testily – and rather unnecessarily in my view since I mentioned the supermarket that sells about a quarter of all wine retailed in Britain a mere eight times in my recent four-week survey of 100 wines for the holidays.
"What I'm interested in at this time of year is which wines I should get out of storage for drinking over the next 12 months. And I'm sure other wine lovers would be interested too," he said expansively, adding as coup de grace, "Edmund Penning-Rowsell always used to write about that sort of thing."
Okay then, mate. In the hope that you represent an FT-reading constituency I offer you the following advice on those combinations of vintage and region that seem to my palate to be ready to drink.
All this of course with the major caveat that the grander and tougher examples tend to mature more slowly than average. Those lucky enough to have cellars full of vintages older than those specified here will know, I assume, what they should be drinking.
It is probably fair to assume that the bulk of the typical FT reader's cellar is red bordeaux, the wine that used to take at least 10 years to be even broachable but is being made today in an accelerated fashion designed to show well even (especially) from cask during the en primeur tastings just seven months after the harvest.
This has the possible disadvantage that we may never see the subtly nuanced like of delicious, fully mature wines from delicate vintages which manage to last 40 years and more (I am thinking here wistfully of a 1962 Las Cases enjoyed recently). It is too early to tell for sure how modern red bordeaux will age. The great winemaking revolution started only in the 1980s and was in full swing as recently as the 1990s.
But it has the advantage that modern red bordeaux is drinkable much younger than before, so it requires a much shorter investment of capital and time. The initially-overpriced 1997s, for example, have been drinking probably as well as most of them ever will for a year now. This is the youngest vintage I would choose to drink from a classed growth Bordeaux chateau or equivalent (though in France they are walloping down much younger vintages already).
I would hold on to any serious 2000, however deceptively delicious already, and to the solid 1999s for a year or two in the case of the lesser St-Emilions and until the end of the decade at least for the Léovilles of this world. I would expect to hold on to the 1998s for many a long year, especially the most successful, which tend to be on the right bank (St-Emilion/Pomerol rather than Médoc/Graves) in this particular vintage.
As for that fascinating pair, 1996 (in broad brushstrokes a left bank vintage) and 1995 (a right bank one), these should be left firmly in their unopened boxes. Much better to start drinking the admittedly much less inspiring 1994s which are already providing easy pleasure.
Most red bordeaux from the lacklustre trio 1991, 1993 and especially 1992 should be drunk now. There are always exceptions but these are the years I would be moving out of storage pretty smartish. Even François Mitjavile's exceptional Côtes de Bourg, Roc de Cambes, one of the best 1991 red bordeaux to have come my way, was already drinking well last year.
So far, there is an element of 'using up' in this advice rather than all-out encouragement to enjoy yourself. Blame Nature not me. At last, in our voyage backwards in time through the bordeaux cellar we encounter real bounty, three fine to great vintages in a row. I would drink most of these wines in the following order: the rich, round, almost burnt 1989s first; then the opulent, velvety 1990s and, almost concurrently, the 1988s which, as just about everywhere in France, have been marked throughout their lives by some of the firmest tannins ever. The 1988s, particularly the right bank wines, are (just) about starting to be a pleasure to drink – at last, while many of the left bank 1990s should still have a glorious future.
As for earlier vintages, the 1986s should be kept a while longer; the lovely 1985s are ripe for the drinking, as they have been for almost the last 15 years; the 1984s should be sold, given or served to your worst enemy; the 1983s and 1981s need drinking; and your 1982s, your accountant but not I would say, need selling.
Those discerning enough to have a cellar full of red burgundy are advised to drink recent vintages in the following approximate order: 1992, 1991, 1994, 2000, 1993, 1997, 1990, 1998, 1995, 1999, 1996, reserving the finest 1993s and 1990s for the grandest occasions this year with 1991s served to true burgundy cognoscenti and the 1998s et al ideally not broached until next year and beyond.
Something tells me that Rhone fans know how to manage their own cellars. Nor am I willing to devote a great deal of precious space to the grandest wine for serving with Rowley's scallops, white burgundy. Experience suggests that this is the shortest commodity in almost every cellar. For some reason wine collectors are either unwilling or unable to give the world's most collectible white wine much bottle maturation. My favourite white burgundy vintages for current drinking are 1997, 1993 and, such as still exist, 1992. Hold the 1995s if possible, and definitely the 1996s, though the 1999s are starting to come into their own.
Speaking of burgundy, I am currently immersing my palate in hundreds of examples from the heavily-touted 2002 vintage. Expect a report on this fascinating en primeur offering on Jan 31 in wine news and a much more detailed survey of hundreds of individual wines in purple pages at about the same time.
