Domaine Vacheron, Sancerre, Chambrates, 2018
God, I wish I could attend a horizontal tasting of Vacheron's single vineyard whites. I wish I could buy a case of each cru, each year. That is all you need to understand how much I love this domaine. This is a deep wine, broad and friendly without the tropical edge of a New World Sauvignon Blanc. The nose suggests you're about to suck on an oyster shell, which is always a sign of an excellent Sancerre, and that's true. It coats the taste buds with a savory combo of fruit and salt flavors. With other Vacheron whites I've tasted, that combination seems to precariously balance on the edge of an overload - an effect I adore - but here, the wine is so broad, there is more room for these different sensations to come to terms with each other, more room for them to reflect in each other and morph. Sometimes the sweetness is at the fore, sometimes the salinity - it's all good, but come to think of it, how would I ever be able compare the crus in a vertical tasting when each wine can change so much and requires so much time to run through its entire oeuvre? (Feb. 3, 2022)
Chateau Sociando-Mallet, Haut-Medoc, 2005
It's been a while since a Sociando-Mallet managed to really hit off with me, even the 2000 was a bit underperforming, but this is pretty, pretty good. It's a bit dour, at first, even though 2005 was a warm vintage. I suppose it just needs air, like any 16 year old claret. I like the rust and mushrooms. It's not graceful, it's not powerful, but the rust and mushrooms make for a tasty, mouth cleansing finish. (Feb. 2, 2022)
Feldstein, Grenache-Mourvedre, 2017
I can't quite put my finger on what the Mourvedre adds here. The fruit is less candied and earthier than Avi's pure Grenache. My first impression is that even though the Grenache was always the wine that attracts me the most in the lineup, this one is more interesting, although I can't quite say I actually like it yet. There's a wildness here. The Grenache is wild, too, of course, but it's wild like a bristling thorn bush. This is the wildness of a thorn bush in the dark. The mystery of it attracts, but you need to keep your distance until the tannins melt - like, a lot. (Feb. 6, 2022)
Luis Pato, Bairrada, Quinta do Ribeirinho, 2020
Luis Pato is just as restless a winemaking spirit as is Dirk Niepoort, without the backing of a rich family empire. Even within the limits of his homeland of Bairrada, the number of labels he produces always catches me by surprise. It seems as though every year, his Israeli importer, Eyal Mermelstein, brings in something new. This year, it's this premium Quinta with its synonymous white wine, Quinta do Ribeirinho. It's made of Sercialinho, which is a new grape for me and which might be related to the more famous Sercial. Or might not be. In Portugal, you never know. For whatever reasons (vintage? grape? technique?), this has much better acidity than recent whites I've had from Pato. Really juicy, white peach acidity. Most Portuguese whites have very exotic noses (I always joke that they remind me of Chablis transplanted to Narnia), but this has nutty, mushroomy, slightly oily aromas of a cool climate French whites. Even a Champagne would be an appropriate comparison. It has a racy edge, detailed nuances, the cheek-puckering vitality of a lemon drop and a long finish. Opened a few years early. (Feb. 15, 2022)
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