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IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR … WASN’T IT? Time is ripe to consider the issue of vintage. Of all the factors that contribute to wine’s mystique, perhaps none gets bandied about as frequently — or flippantly — as vintage. A vintage per se means no more or less than the year in which a wine’s grapes were harvested. In practical terms, though, the notion of vintage is inextricably tied in to a wine’s quality, character and, quite often, ageability. So much gravity is placed on vintages in wine circles that famous (and infamous) years have become fodder for clichés. “Oh, 1989, that was a very good year….” Or was that ’88 … or ’99? And what makes the difference between “so good” and “so-so” anyway? The answer, of course, is hardly simple. But even teetotalers know that any talk of vintage usually hinges on weather. That’s where all the complexity begins. Different regions can experience vastly different weather conditions. And within the same area, distinct varieties and/or sites experience different ripening rates and harvest dates. For instance, 1997 Bordeaux red wines emerged lighter in flavor and body than normal, but late-harvested white varieties yielded superb dessert wines. What’s more, distinctions between good, great, and “off” years can fly out the window depending on when you uncork a given vintage. Indeed, those very same 1997 Bordeaux reds — savaged by critics, shunned by collectors — may be much tastier with dinner than reds from a “better” vintage, for the simple reason that ’97s have less of a bite from tannins and, therefore, are easier to drink. As long as there are weather variations, there will be reason to compare vintages. With the 2000 Bordeaux vintage being heralded as the best since 1982 (or 1989 or 1990, depending upon whom you ask), now is a good time for straight talk on what distinguishes wine quality from one year to the next.
Centuries of viticultural trial and error in fact have shown that the world’s most revered wines are produced in marginal, even cool climates. If you’re visiting France’s Burgundy or Bordeaux regions over the summer, bring a sweater. Ditto Champagne, Germany’s Rhine Valley, and Italy’s Piedmont. For noble grapes in these high-profile regions, getting ripe is not just a long-term project, it’s a struggle. The winemaker’s challenge is to allow grapes to get fully ripe, and then to harvest them in healthy conditions. The trick, however, is that the grapes’ growing cycle — roughly 100 days from spring into autumn — is fraught with hazards. Frost, hail, drought, rain, even heat spikes are notorious for derailing grape crops, especially if they strike at critical junctures such as bud break, flowering, fruit set or, most importantly, harvest. September rains can pump up volume and dilute flavors; or worse, grapes engorged by sudden rainfall can burst, opening the door for rot. Ironically, bad weather doesn’t always mean bad wine. Some of the “greatest” Bordeaux vintages in history were near disasters. In both 1945 and 1961, spring frosts blanketed vineyards. The crops that survived were down in volume but up in quality, producing long-lived wines that reminded producers and collectors alike that the greatest vinicultural heights are the flip side of greatest climatic risks. In 2000, Bordeaux vintners weathered a severe outbreak of mildew in spring, followed by alternating heat and cold in June (called “schizophrenic” by wine critic Robert M. Parker Jr.). In a surprise, a high-pressure system stalled over Bordeaux in August, lasting into September. The coup de grâce: An early harvest was practically rain-free. Compared to Europe’s prime wine regions, California wine country is basically balmy; getting grapes ripe is rarely a problem. But true to the European model, the finest wines hail from the coolest areas, where generous sunshine is moderated by coastal breezes. And despite the old marketing slogan — “Every year is a vintage year” — California winemakers certainly can be tested. In 1989, September rains forced many Napa and Sonoma vintners to pick their Cabernet Sauvignon early. Those with the nerve to wait the rain out, however, were rewarded with better wines. Erratic weather can be a factor in other parts of the New World as well. Devastating frosts hit Oregon vineyards in 1994 and Washington in 1996. Chile’s wine regions enjoy weather patterns much like California, but on the other side of the Andes Mountains, Argentina is prone to sudden hailstorms.
In the winery, Burgundian and Italian producers particularly will compensate for a lighter-bodied red vintage by practicing saignée, or bleeding. Right after crush, winemakers “bleed” off some of the fresh pink juice and make it into rosé wine, intensifying the juice left behind to ferment with the skins and become red wine. Then there is the honorable Bordelais custom of simply making less wine in off years. Many châteaus routinely produce two red wines. Lots deemed not worthy of the château’s grand vin are bottled under a second label. The practice has been adopted by savvy American producers. In 1998, El Niño brought strange springtime weather to northern California, resulting in inconsistent cluster formation and uneven maturation on the vines. Laurel Glen, a Sonoma Cabernet Sauvignon specialist, bottled just more than 1,000 cases of its main wine in 1998. The remainder went into its lower-priced Counterpoint label. By comparison, the winery made 4,000 cases of Laurel Glen Cabernet in 1996.
Still, simple logic holds that keeping a radar screen alert for truly great vintages can only benefit wine lovers. An exceptional vintage is like a rising tide that lifts all boats: modest everyday wines can be downright lip-smacking, and “serious” reds will be that much more intense, complex, and long-lived. Consider 1997 in Italy. Mother Nature shined all over the country. As Goldstein sees it, “If you didn’t make good wine in Italy in 1997, you should consider making gnocchi or something else instead.” Then there is the catch-22 raised by such great vintage: Collectibility does not always mean drinkability. While most modest red Bordeaux can be enjoyable uncorked young, the critics’ line on the 2000s from the most famous communes — Pauillac, Margaux, Pomerol, St. Estèphe, et al — is that levels of tannin and extract are as powerful as any vintage of the past 50 years. In other words, they may take years to mellow, and perhaps decades to reach their peak. This no doubt will ensure plenty of time to debate the relative ageworthiness of Old World vs. New World vintages. And, if nothing else, the 2000 Bordeauxs will serve as a rich reminder that wine, at its essence, remains a collaboration between man and Mother Nature that is always capable of surprise.
• Vintages tend to be more important for red wines than whites. Red grapes take longer to ripen, so there is more time for impact by inclement weather, and more of a chance that they might not achieve maturity on the vine. Also, the vast majority of white wines are meant to be enjoyed fresh, within a few years of harvest. Full-bodied reds with significant tannin make far better cellar dwellers. • If you don’t like a wine, it’s not because of the vintage. If you try a Barolo and don’t like it, chances are it’s due to the wine’s particular flavor profile, which may flex somewhat but will never do a 180 from one year to the next. Conversely, if you like a wine from a specific place and year, you usually can choose other wines in the same price range from the same region without worrying about the year. • Some wines are made only in excellent years. Most port and champagne are made of blends comprising several years. In exceptional years, producers will “declare” a vintage year and make vintage-dated wines. These are usually more complex, long-lived, and expensive. • There always will be some very good wines in mediocre years. And vice versa. Which is all the more reason to choose wine by producer, region, and personal taste, not just vintage. Shaun Hubbard, bar manager at the Boston College Club in Massachusetts, singles out 1997 Italian wines: “For the collector, one example would be the Super Tuscan Sassicaia from Bolgheri. Another wine of great value and quality that showcases the 1997 vintage is Villa La Selva ‘Selvamaggio,’ a red Tuscan table wine made of mostly Cabernet Sauvignon. This and other lesser-known wines are the hidden jewels on any wine list, and our staff enjoys introducing them to our members.” Sommelier Kerry L. Johnson at Columbia Tower Club in Seattle selects the 1986 Penfolds Grange Hermitage: “This wine is ripe, powerful, and amazingly complex.” Isaias Ledesma of the City Club on Bunker Hill in Los Angeles favors a young wine, the 1999 Lail Vineyards “J. Daniel Cuvée” Napa Valley red blend: “Great balance and flavor are just there, with a big nose and great body.” For an older wine, he suggests the dining room’s last bottle of 1986 Chateau Latour à Pomerol. At the Trophy Club Country Club in Dallas, Mark Cooke says the front-runner in his current favorite vintage is the 1995 Pahlmeyer proprietary red from Napa Valley. He adds, “I mention the ’95 in particular since the vinorazzi were so adamant about the stellar performance of ’94 California reds.” And for those who do not live by red alone, Ali Halatayi at Pinehurst in the Village of Pinehurst, North Carolina, recommends the 2000 Sauvignon Blancs from New Zealand, which offer a “very clean and fresh but complicated taste.”
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