There were seven of us. Two winemakers, two Masters Of Wine, an importer, an active wine blogger and an ex-blogger. Even if we had all put our heads together, we would never in a million years have come up with a lineup that combined so many faults and yawns.
Guy Eshel, Rousanne, 2020
A flavorsome white with low acidity and yellow summer fruits. Not a bad wine, but I sometimes get the feeling that winemakers turn to Rhone grapes out of boredom with the usual suspects.
Chacra, Mainque, Patagonia, Chardonnay, 2020
The pedigree and backstory are impressive, on paper. This wine was made in collaboration with famous Meursault legend, Jean-Marc Roulot. The grapes ripened early and were thus picked early to preserve acidity, but I think the acidity went AWOL along the way. It's not so flabby as to become a fault, I just can't get excited about it. The nose has nice flinty notes, but that's far as my attention held.
Domaine du Jaugaret, 2014
This was the biggest disappointment of the night. This is an outright unicorn wine. You don't get more unicorn than a childless octogenarian, hanging on to his family heritage for as long as his body will hold out, only to be booted out of the Saint-Julien appellation for lack of typicality. This is an estate with its death knoll imminent, people. Maybe I should have waited until Jean-François Fillastre had passed away and sold my bottle for profit. The 2011 was great, but the 2012 was bretty - while this is downright simple and one-dimensional, even sweet. It's well-known that Jean-François bottles each barrel separately and I had kind of hoped the bottles shipped to Manhattan, which is where I bought my bottle, came from a good barrel. But maybe there are no good or bad barrels, just good luck and bad luck.
Chateau Chasse-Spleen, Moulin, 1995
Lightly corky, but even obscured by TCA, this is what Jaguraret might never achieve in Fillastre's lifetime: a classic claret, with iron-speckled elegance. Assuming Fillastre has such aspirations at all.
Francois Villard, Saint-Joseph,
Reflet, 2016
This should have been a no-brainer. The black pepper, meat fat, olives and smoke on the nose - a clear winner. So the magic is there, but so is a bit of ripeness that makes you long for
a cooler style or vintage.
Anthill Farms, Mendocino Country, Comptche Ridge, Pinot Noir, 2017
I've loved all the three Anthill Farms wines I've had so far, but the streak has now been broken. The two Pinot Noirs I'd drunk (the third Anthill was a Syrah) made me think, "here's someone who gets Pinot". I don't know what the person who made this wine got. I hope this was just an off-bottle, but it was so sweet and one dimensional that it felt like sucking on a lollipop.
Dal Forno Romano, Amarone, della Valpolicella 94/95? (label fell off)
Let's just forget this happened. And that someone paid a four-digit price (in shekels) for it. Or maybe I just shouldn't criticize a wine whose style is obviously the exact opposite of all I love. Amarone to begin with is like a loud politician without any conviction behind his spiel. This one drove a gold-plated Cadillac.
Maybe it wasn't us. I'm almost sure we hit Root Day head on.
The night did have a couple of saving graces. Maybe more of a Hail Mary.
Gaston Chiquet, Special Club, 2013
Champagne is always the girl I want to marry. At nine years of age, this is still vivid, rich yet dry, showing both fresh apples and baked ones, sculpted with chalk and wonderful acidity.
Domaine Fourrier, Morey-Saint-Denis, Clos Solon, Vieilles Vignes, 2015
This was an excellent wine, but I'm sorry, I'm drawing a blank here. My senses had been through multiple wormholes throughout the night. With the Special Club, it was like, hey, Champagne, you know, you can wake me up in the middle of the night for Champagne and I'm ready to go. But this required an effort I was incapable of. I can tell you that the quality and texture of the fresh red fruit were like a million dollar suit, but that's just about it.
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