I know there are a lot of Chablis producers that deserve my attention, and don't get it, and I think I know why. There really are a lot of them and the basic formula has become almost a cliché: sea weed, sea shells, beach wind, everything that conjures the sea. The Big Two, Raveneau and Dauvissat, have long since sailed out of my budget's grasp and the rest of the offerings, even in Israel, seems like an endless beach, an endless parade of families with a stake in one Premier Cru or another. Or maybe it's just one big, inbred family. Who can blame me if, when the urge for a racy, yet broad, mineral-tinged white comes upon me, I find myself reaching for a Sancerre or a Portuguese. The semblance of excitement is almost as important as the actual excitement itself, and Chablis just strikes me as too samey.
But I've always remained faithful to Domaine d'Henri. At their best, they offer a purity and clarity that would not be out of place in Puligny, and Troesmes is their most Puligny-like cru. It also reminds me of a young Sancerre, at the single vineyard level. There’s a purity of apple and lime fruit, balanced, but not overwhelmed by minerals, the aftertaste juggling sweet, sour and salty flavors. I’d wait a couple of more years for the next bottle.
Sphera, First Page, 2021
The blend this year is Semillon, Chenin Blanc and Rousanne, according to the back label, which also calls them aromatic grapes. I really have no idea what an aromatic grape is. I find all grapes aromatic, and when I review in my mind all the grapes commonly termed aromatic my conclusion is: grapes with aromas that are not very mineralish. But this wine is not shy on minerals, so maybe I got it wrong.
It’s performing above its pay grade. Actually, I don’t know what its pay grade is. Even as the blend changed each year, in some ways it has always struck me as the crowd pleaser of the winery's lineup. Although most crowds would not immediately recognize the grapes in the blend, not this year nor any that came before, there was always a certain directness to the First Page that the varietal wines side stepped, as well as a floral greenness. Both are still still there, but the minerals add sophistication. Which is why I think it’s continuing the quality growth that began a couple of years ago.
Comando G, Vinos de Madrid, La Bruno de Rozas, 2018
Of all the aspiring Bourgognes in the whole wide world of wine, Comando G is my favorite, because it captures the essence of Burgundy, grape varieties notwithstanding. Reflecting terroir isn’t enough; showcasing why your terroir is special and bewitching is the point. It’s everything, it’s the only thing. And what makes Comando G’s vineyards so special is a thorny delicacy in the wines, like sucking on a rose and its leaves and stems.
Even the ‘village’ wine requires 2-3 hour to show its full potential for nuanced complexity (strawberries seasoned by white pepper) and for the roses to ease out the thorns on the palate.
Willi Schaefer, Mosel, Graacher Domprobst, Riesling Kabinett, 2016
Pink grapefruit, red apples, slate and a hint of flint. A classic, racy Kabinett.
Weingut Günther Steinmetz, Mosel, Kestener Herrenberg, Pinot Noir Unfiltriert, 2018
Earthy, with a core of sweetness this sullen child is doing its best to hide. Such as, sweet/savory spices on the nose, a touch of mint, not extremely deep or complex, but different from Burgundy. A palate that’s like a slightly anorexic version of an old time claret, yet with a touch of lifting sweetness. Look, it’s no Chambertin, and my first bottle was so dull, it took a lot of stubbornness on my part to try another bottle, yet this one is really heartwarmingly sweet to sip once it opens, in a manner both understated and exciting at the same time. Another year or two won't hurt.
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