Château Lynch-Moussas 2004, Pauillac‏

I was recently given a bottle of Lynch-Moussas, a 5th-growth Bordeaux from Pauillac by Alex Barr of Genlead (thanks Alex!). According to a couple of experts I checked with, the 2004s are not set for long aging and are ready for drinking more or less now, so the other day we opened it up with a simple roast-beef dinner.

Bordeaux is my favourite source of red wines generally, but not having had a "classed growth" wine before, I was intrigued about what to expect - how would it be different from every other, non-classed, Bordeaux I have had ?

The nose showed initially rich blackcurrant followed increasingly by a delicious woodsiness and forest floor, with hints of vanilla and spice; the texture is very smooth texture, almost custard-creamy, and the finish is long and concentrated,with a gentle tannic grip and a slightly herbaceous edge. There is lots of juicy bramble fruit and a slight smokiness, almost like beeswax church candles.

What was, for me, most surprising about this wine is how soft and approachable it is, even at just 6 years old - I had expected something rather chewier and more tannic. Beyond that, it was a very well-made and enjoyable wine, but not stellar.

And with hindsight, plus a bit of research on the Internet, that stands to reason - according to the website 90plus Wines:

- Wine Spectator gave it 88/100 on 31 Mar 2007 and said it shows aromas of currant and sandalwood.

- Jancis Robinson rates it 17.5/20 on 06 Aug 2008 calling it quite complex and interesting. Real vivacity

These are good, solid scores and reviews, but not earth-shattering.

The Wine Doctor, Chris Kissack, says: Chateau Lynch-Moussas (Pauillac) 2004: Dense fruit here and overtly toasty oak marks the nose of this wine. On the palate there is a good grip and depth, with lots of firm structure and an appealing depth of berry fruit with a nicely composed substance. Good vigour, lots of ripe tannins, good acidity too. It is perhaps a touch on the lean side but it has potential for sure. From a 2004 Bordeaux tasting at four years of age. 16+/20

At first, I had wondered whether I was missing something, whether I should have been more impressed by the wine, whether it should have felt like it was in a completely different league from all else - on reflection, it is a very good and enjoyable wine, albeit from a less than stellar year, perhaps with more finesse and elegance than force of personality.

Links

Lynch-Moussas - http://www.lynch-moussas.com/

The Wine Doctor - http://www.thewinedoctor.com/

Genlead - http://www.genlead.co.uk/

A Wee Dram on Burns Night

I first got started on whisky in, of all places, a bar in the Bulgarian capital, Sofia. My host, the Managing Director of our local agency there had previously worked for a whisky client and gave me a brief introduction as we sampled several different types and ages.

These days it's rare for there not to be a bottle of single malt in the CWB household to round off a particularly good meal, so I was looking forward to the Cambridge Food and Wine Society's recent Burns night whisky tasting.

For the event, Society Chairman Steve Vincent divided the evening into two parts, starting with a look at the effects of aging in different casks.

Scotch single malt whisky, for the uninitiated, is basically beer distilled into a spirit and then aged in old oak casks, often previously used for sherry, for 3 years and upwards. The distilled spirit is initially colourless and somewhat raw, but gains colour and softens out over time. Much of it also evaporates, making older examples darker and more intense (see here for more details from Wikipedia).

We first tried a blended whisky called Pig's Nose - blended whiskies (often from grain, rather than malt) are generally not held in as high regard as single malts, quite correctly in my opinion. This one was surprisingly good, smooth and mellow with a creamy feel, but still not as good as a the single malts that followed.

We started an entry-level 10yo Glenmorangie which I have had before and which is a good, honest whisky in a light and refreshing style.

The next three expressions were all 12yo but aged for their last two years in different casks - oloroso, Port and Sauternes.

Dry oloroso, with its nutty, toffee, sultana and slightly spicy aromas is a natural complement for whisky and works very well.

I was less convinced by the Port-cask-aged Quinta Ruban and felt the red wine and eucalyptus port flavours did not really enhance those from the whisky.

Maybe it's the power of suggestion, but I liked the Sauternes-cask aged especially - I like dessert wines and the hints of rich, tropical fruit and orange marmalade sweetness of the dessert wine matched well with the freshness of the whiskey.

The rest of the group that evening were less convinced that this was the best of the three, but I was pleased to note that whisky author Michael Jackson (not the deceased pop star) takes the same view.

After pausing for a traditional Burns supper of haggis, bashed neeps and champit tatties (but thankfully no bagpipes), we moved on to a vertical tasting of Highland Park, located in the Orkneys and the most northerly Scotch whisky distillery in the world.

Highland Park's style is full-flavoured, peaty and smokey as befits its remote island origins, but a little less in-yer-face than, say, Islay malts.

The first expression was a 40% 12yo; all Highland Park expressions are aged in sherry casks, so as well as age the only other variables were an increasing alcohol level and an increasing proportion of first-fill casks, starting with 20%.

The 43% 18yo with 45% first-fill casks was darker and more intense, with rich oak, toffee sweetness, hints of marzipan and a smokey finish and has apparently won Best Spirit In The World - twice.

However, the finale of the evening proved to be something quite special - a 25yo Highland Park, 48% and 50% first-fill casks. Very rich and mature, with smoke, honey and fudge, it had a phenomenal length and finish.

The Whiskies

Pig's Nose - 5yo, 40%, £19

Glenmorangie Original - 10yo, 40%, £25

Glenmorangie Lasanta - 12yo, 46%, £34

Glenmorangie Quinta Ruban - 12yo, 46%, £35

Glenmorangie Nectar d'Or - 12yo, 46%, £42

Highland Park - 12yo, 40% £24

Highland Park - 18yo, 43%, £56

Highland Park - 25yo, 48%, £128

Links

Cambridge Food and Wine Society - http://www.cambridgefoodandwinesociety.org.uk/

Glenmorangie - http://www.glenmorangie.com/

Highland Park - http://www.highlandpark.co.uk/

On Value

With the recent news that the UK economy shrank 0.5%, we are clearly still not out of the financial woods, so it seems timely to consider what makes a value wine.

generic "value" products

Supermarkets often have value ranges - this is usually a reference to them being 1) cheap and 2) unbranded (or at least generically branded as "own label").

To my mind, absolute price is no indication of value - a £3 bottle of wine is poor value if it is undrinkable, whilst a £10 bottle which outperforms more expensive examples can be great value, provided you like it.

And that's the key issue - value is a very personal, subjective matter, it's based on an assessment of what you think personally (although the opinions of others are relevant in a way, too, as we shall see).

Value is about cost versus benefit, and benefits are subjective judgements.

I remember a boss many years ago who was a bit flash and said when at a restaurant, he always insisted on buying the most expensive Champagne on the list. I don't believe that tasting blind he could have told the difference between an expensive but middling Champagne and a cheaper alternative, but to him it was important to be seen to be drinking Champagne.

Nowadays, we'd call him a label snob, but for him restaurant Champagne was good value because the benefits (relating to image and perception rather than to the wine itself) outweighed the cost.

In a sense, he had fallen completely for the myth that luxury brands are a symbol of success and sophistication - this was before the days of The Millionaire Next Door, remember.

These days, I measure value, in a wine or anything else for that matter, by the formula:

What I paid / what I would be prepared to pay

Anything over 1 is good value, anything under 1 is bad value, whilst 1.0 means it is priced just right - for me, that is.

The part of the value calculation that can be affected by the attitudes of other people is the actual selling price and here fashion can play a huge part, depending on the pricing model used.

There are many pricing models for goods and services, but the two key ones to consider here are cost plus and market pricing.

Cost plus takes the cost of producing a bottle of wine plus a sensible profit element for the producer and that becomes the price; by contrast, market pricing assesses what people are prepared to pay regardless of cost to produce.

In general, cost-plus works for everyday goods where supply is plentiful (if you are inefficient or take too high a profit, someone keener or bigger will undercut you) whilst market pricing works for luxury goods or very new products where demand outstrips the limited supplies.

It may cost a little more to produce a 1st growth Bordeaux than an unclassed growth in a neighbouring village, but the price for a Latour is set not by the cost of production but rather by what the market will pay for the wine.

In recent years, prices for top Bordeaux have been rising in line with the increase in Asian millionaires; that is, as a result of increased demand, and not because the wine has been getting any better. Some might argue that the wine was therefore previously undervalued - somewhat smugly if they happen to own some.

To me, it is mere price inflation - but then, I've never tried the wine. If you are lucky enough to have done so and you thought, for example, that it was worth significantly more than the £700 pounds plus that it now commands, then it was indeed a good value wine for you.

Back in the real world, bargain hunters can seek out the unfashionable to be more likely of finding value.

Some of my favourite wines are sherry and dry Riesling; they happen to be deeply unfashionable at the moment but make some superb wines.

The reasons why they are out of fashion are similar for both - historically, we saw a high number of poor examples in this country and the modern, good ones are still tainted by the perception of the old.

So much the better for anyone who likes them, then.

Another source of value wines is the bin-end - wine that is still good, but genuinely marked down just to sell it quickly. The seller's lost profit is my gain as a bargain hunter.

Bulk buys can also improve value - many wine merchants offer a case discount so if you like a wine enough to want 12 bottles, it is much cheaper to buy them all at once rather than individually. This is known as economies of scale - it takes just as long to sell 12 bottles as 1, so the merchant can offer a case discount to reflect the lower selling cost per unit.

Economic theory tells us that the greatest advances in our global wealth have come from the economies of scale achieved since the industrial revolution, so are economies of scale the way forward ?

In the area of wine, we may need to be careful what we wish for - mass-produced wines may be cheaper than they've ever been, (think New World chardie), but are they as thrilling and as good value as a lovingly crafted artisan wine costing just a little more ?

Of course, it's a completely personal decision.

Côtes du Rhône Village Visan, La Guintrandy 2009

The Rhône is really two neighbouring sub-regions - the North, home to a small number of rarefied vineyards which are the historic origins of Syrah and Viognier, and the South which is a more cosmopolitan mixture of heady, southern varieties producing wines with hedonistic baked aromas of plums, prunes and figs.

The basic appellation here is Côtes du Rhône AOC (with or without a village name appended). This Côtes du Rhône Village Visan "Le Devès" is from domaine La Guintrandy which has been a family estate since 1850 and is now run by fifth and sixth generation owner-winegrowers, Marie-Claude and Olivier Cuilleras.

La Guintrandy, situated in the Le Devès area of Visan, is a member of the Patrimoine des Terroirs association of independent winemakers (I reviewed a couple of Burgundies from them last year) and follows the group's ethical, quality-led and terroir-driven approach; the wine is made from vines between 20 and 30 years old, with manual harvesting, long maceration, no filtration and low sulphur content.

There is vanilla, some dark berry fruit and woodsy undergrowth on what is quite a restrained nose. The palate shows typical Grenache aromas of plums and prunes, slightly baked in character but certainly not jammy, ripe berry fruit and a mouthfilling texture with smooth, well-integrated tannins. The finish is pleasantly savoury and fresh, with a balanced sour rasp and tannic grip.

Despite the almost New World alcohol level (14%), the sweetness is restrained and the acidity proves refreshing.

It impresses not so much by any complexity of aromas (although these are likely to develop over time given its relative youth and aging potential), but by the depth, intensity and richness of the both flavour and texture, as well as by the length.

It is approachable enough to drink by itself, but benefits from matching with food; we had it with beef wellington, the tannins softened by the meat whilst the acidity cut though the rich pastry.

It has a silver medal from Macon 2009.

Provided for review.

Links

La Guintrandy - http://www.vins-cuilleras.com/wine-domaine.htm

Patrimoine des Terroirs - http://patrimoinevin.canalblog.com/

Marketing The New World and The Old

I recently put up some thoughts, here, on the New World and The Old and suggested that these days the difference is more of style than geographic origin. Another distinction between the two is in how the wines themselves are marketed.

Pick up a bottle of French wine at random and it is likely to have a picture of a chateau or some decorative script on the front.

By contrast, a New World wine will typically have a cleaner, simpler design on its label.

What has this got to do with the wine inside the bottle - well, everything and nothing; to a certain way of thinking, the label on the outside of a bottle has no relevance to the wine on the inside. And yet, when consumers look at rows of supermarket wines, shelf appeal is a factor in deciding which wines go into the trolley and which stay put.

If your signature says something about the person you are, then the label is the equivalent for wine - it can be traditional, funky, quirky, old-school, clean-and-modern, flowery or jokey.

And whilst there's no research that I'm aware of on the subject, it stands to reason that no-nonsense old-school people are in general probably more inclined to find a no-nonsense old school label appealing, whilst more modern types are perhaps more inclined towards edgier labels with more of a gastropubby feel.

And let us not forget the back label - a personal note from the wine-maker (perhaps mentioning that the wine was named after his new puppy) will create a sense of partnership and stakeholder engagement with the potential consumer in a way that a simple tasting note and food accompaniment suggestion will not.

Wine-judging competitions do away with these frivolities by serving the wine blind to experienced tasters who assess the wine on its merits as an example of the category for which it has been entered.

Wine competitions are not without their limitations, however, and winning an award can be just another part of the marketing mix.

After all, there are awards and there are awards; Decanter for example, has a range of accolades from commended, bronze, silver and gold medals to trophies (of which a wine can have more than one). So, the term "Decanter-awarded" covers quite a range of possible options and it is quite common for wines to be promoted as having "an award" without any immediately obvious indication of the level actually achieved.

Marketing is naturally the preserve of large corporations (think Unilever, Coca-Cola, McDonald's and the like). And whilst there is a place in the world for the reliable, standardised products these companies make, wine is more often an artisan product, frequently made by individuals on a small scale for whom any serious marketing activity is an unnecessary extravagance.

There do exist some large wine-making corporations - mainly in the New World - who churn out blended, standardised bulk wines and there is a place for these wines in the world too. It's just that the wine they churn out is a branded, mass product and not an artisan one.

Ultimately, I believe the world of wine will re-divide itself from Old World / new World into plonk, everyday wine and fine wine and that production of plonk will increase dramatically as interest in wine takes off in Anglo-Saxon countries, whilst prices for fine wine will rocket as interest from Asia and new billionaires, for example, expands with no corresponding increase in supply.

In the middle bracket of everyday wine, the difference will be that, compared to the Old-World / New World split of the 1970s, distinctions will be based on production methods, yields, terroir, scale and, yes, marketing methods - regardless of the hemisphere in which the wine is made.

However, smaller-scale wineries are increasingly finding ways to club together to engage in marketing activity through shared costs, without the huge overhead investment of a Foster's Group or a Gallo: Naked Wine's Angels scheme and the French Patrimoine des Terroirs are just two examples where marketing costs are being shared across of group of small independents.

In Naked's case, around 30,000 Angels invest a regular sum each month which the company uses to fund start-ups directly, thus cutting out several layers of middlemen.

Patrimoine des Terroirs, run by Alain Vautherot, is a group of around 30 independent French winegrowers who take a collegiate and standardised approach to marketing and distribution - i.e. paying only 1/30th of the cost of going it alone.

Other related articles
The New World vs The Old‏

On breadth vs depth in tasting‏

Building a taste memory


Links

Naked Wines - http://www.nakedwines.com/

Patrimoine des Terroirs - http://patrimoinevin.canalblog.com/

Confessions of a bin-end browser: Spier Chardonnay 2009 W.O. Western Cape‏

Some retailers have made discounting almost into an art form, with price being more a part of the marketing mix than a true indication of what the merchant thinks the product is worth.

Thankfully, the independents generally don't waste time and effort on this sort of befuddling nonsense and for them, the price is the price.

Occasionally, however, a clear-out of the warehouse reveals old stock or odd, leftover items that just need shifting and thus, as an inveterate bargain hunter, I found myself riffing through a selection of seriously marked-down bottles at Cambridge Wine Merchant's Mill Road store

Some I chose on price alone (for a few pennies, it can always go in the cooking), but this 2009 South African Chardonnay caught my eye as something that might actually be quite good - New World chardie is usually pretty reliable and I've never had a bad wine from CWM.

And so it proved - nutty, oatmealy, toasty, textbook stuff but with a hint of tarriness and a streak of ripe tropical fruit acidity holding it all in check. With more air, there is honeysuckle and orange blossom and a waxier texture.

Savoury, full-bodied and mouthfilling with just a hint of tannic buzz, it is distinctly New World, but more restrained than the 14.5% alcohol suggests.

According to the label, the company dates back to 1692, making it actually quite old for the New World, with grapes first pressed in 1712.

Match with typical chardie food - chicken (roasted or in a stew) or a Thai green curry. With its high-but-ripe acidity, it will also stand up to fattier meats, such as roast pork.

£3 bin-end from CWM, standard retail price £6.75.

Links

Spier Winery - http://www.spierwines.co.za/

Cambridge Wine Merchants - http://www.cambridgewine.com/

The New World vs The Old‏

In the olden days of the 1970s, wines were divided neatly into the Old World (Europe) and the New (everywhere else).

It was an easy distinction, based on old certainties - Old World wines were classics and New World wines were upstarts; a world in which James Bond could identify a sherry as a '61 ("I wash refurring to the yurr of the originul solera ... eighteen shixty one").

It is also a distinction based on an idea so prevalent that it was not even really acknowledged as existing (since there was no alternative view) - that of terroir. One bought a wine originating from Bordeaux or Australia, not a Cab or a Syrah.

Terroir, a unique combination of soil, climate and aspect that makes a wine speak of a particular location, seems to swing in and out of fashion as an idea.

To the erstwhile iconoclastic wine-makers of the New World it was a notion to be rubbished as being no more than a mere marketing con by the Old World to keep prices for their inferior wines artificially high.

Tell everyone that Bordeaux is just a blend of Cab and Merlot (mostly) and you can then sell them you Aussie Cab-Merlot blend as a similar style of wine or at least a familiar grape variety.

The New World (plus several sympathetic and equally iconoclastic wine writers) did a huge amount to demystify the world of wine in those days.

They also introduced modern techniques to allow grapes to be grown in a wider range of places (yes, terroirs) and sharpened up wine-making practice to produce, clean, fruity, well-made easy-drinking wines that could be quaffed without food, did not need years in a damp cellar to mature and which were easy to understand and immediately enjoyable.

But then things seemed to go too far; New World wines became overly alcoholic, overly fruity and monolithic, overly branded and overly discounted. Look at a row of supermarket New World wines and see how many are on special, deep-discount offer. Try one with your eyes closed and see if you have any idea where it comes from.

Ripe ? Fruity ? Sweetish ? It could be from Australia, California, South Africa or Chile. It could even be southern Italy, inland Spain or southern France.

And there's the rub - the New World did such a good job of finding new places to grow grapes that the flying wine-makers found they could teach their techniques to hitherto unsuccessful parts of the Old World in the antipodean off-season and Europe's New-World Old World was born.

At the same time, Old World France began funking up its wine labels for greater shelf-appeal and, in the ultimate irony, copied the New World approach of putting the grape variety on the label; no more stuffy Burgundy, this is now a Chardonnay actually.

Next, the New World discovered terroir - yes, some places do produce better wines as a result of the soil types and climatic conditions - and ever more precise delinations were drawn up in hitherto broad-brush regions.

A pioneer of this in Chile for example is Rafael Urrejola of Vina Undurrage (see here) who has created a series of wines called Terroir Hunter which do reflect the terroir where they are grown.

So, where does that leave the Old World / New World distinction now ?

Certainly it is no longer a geographic distinction if just a few miles inland in a cool-climate valley, Chile can produce crisp, steely retrained whites that taste like they could have come from the Loire.

It is now much more a distinction of style - cool-climate restraint and texture vs warm-climate aroma and fruit - and is reflected in the alcohol level of the wine.

Debra Meiburg MW told me about the following simple test for novice blind tasters to establish if a wine is from the New World or Old - hold the wine at waist-level and raise it gradually; if you can smell the wine before it reaches your chin, it's New World.

It's a great test, but increasingly will tell you more about style than provenance.