It isn't Chardonnay - it is Burgundy

Apologies if all I have done over the last week or so (or even more) is post tasting notes, but that is what I do well (or try to). And although I have some pretty strong views on other wine-related matters (another Simon Baile wine company in administration, cryo-extraction in Baumard's Quarts de Chaume and the related crusades/vendettas by fellow wine bloggers, for instance) I prefer to avoid controversy and concentrate on the positive things - like sharing the sheer joy of drinking good wine, wherever it comes from.

I've heard it said before (and I have also recounted the saying before) that it would matter not which grapes were grown in Burgundy, but more that they were grown in Burgundy. OK, I am paraprhrasing slightly (I can't be bothered to look the source up) but you get the picture. The suggestion being that Burgundy would produce great wines, whatever the grape. I remain firmly of the opinion that this is not true, but I am also firmly of the opinion that there are few, if any, better places on earth to grow Pinot Noir or - in this case - Chardonnay. In my experience, the Jura states a pretty good case for Chardonnay, as on occasion does California (for both Pinot and Chardonnay, but generally at a much higher price). Which is saying something, as even lower-end Burgundy of both persuasions is now generally beyond the pocket of all but the most avid fans. But there are still some relative bargains to be found, especially in some of the "satellite" appellations of the Côte d'Or, or (more appropriately) in the southern end of greater Burgundy, in the Mâconnais and the Côtes Chalonnaise. And here are a couple of excellent examples............

Domaine Guillot-Broux Les Genièvrières 2011 Mâcon-Cruzille

Well, I did say in my previous post that it would be hard to resist broaching the rest of my little stash of wines from this grower, especially as I am going through one of my (ever more regular) phases of preferring white over red. I opened this last night but – as with La Croix 2010 from the same grower - it is currently showing better after 24 hours in the decanter. I am actually writing this at 5 o'clock in the afternoon, which under normal circumstances is definitely too early for me to be drinking wine. But boy did I need a glass, after the day I’ve had, and boy, oh boy, does it do the job! It really is wonderfully lime-scented, again with an array of freshly-cut hay, basil and oregano notes, and with a strong perception of wet stone minerality – for me, such an enticing quality in any wine (whether white or red). And that stony theme continues through onto the palate – a veritable double-whammy of bracing, citrus-tinged acidity and a dry, almost chalky mineral edge, which really does make your tabs laugh and your eyes water. But in a most enjoyable way, for there are plenty of tart Bramley apple and soft citrus fruit flavours, with perhaps the merest hint of something richer, like slightly under-ripe peach or apricot. All of which amounts to a pretty good knife-edge balancing act – with less fruit, the tartness might make the teeth jangle, but any more and it wouldn’t excite the taste buds so much. Flippin’ ‘eck, it is good wine! And long, too. I guess the options are to drink it now (with a good overnight airing or a vigorous shake if consuming the same night) or keep for 2 to 3 years to let it fill out a little. Any more and you would be in the potential “premox” window, although to be fair, I’ve yet to drink a white wine from this grower that has suffered such a fate. I love it. But unfortunately, my glass is now empty - as is the bottle - so what other option do I have, but to open a.................

Domaine Guillot-Broux Les Molières 2011 Mâcon-Cruzille
This one is quite a different proposition, not only because it is singing from the start, but also because it has a distinctly smoky scent. Not oaky-smoky, or even reductive-smoky, but wood fire-smoky. And with the amount of tree and hedge cuttings (not to mention the odd Euro-pallet or two) that I have to burn on a regular basis, I do love a good fire. In fact, had I not been brought up to know the difference between right and wrong, I could have had a promising career as an arsonist! Anyway, back to the wine. It still has all of the bracing acidity and deep minerality of Les Genièvrières, but feels just a tad richer, with the Bramley apple augmented by a helping of something a touch sweeter, like a tarte tatin with dessert apples, a sprinkling of demerera sugar, a dash of cinnamon and cloves and a dollop of crème fraiche (now I really am beginning to feel hungry). In fact, in its own way, it is just as thrilling as Les Genièvrières and continues to hit all of the right notes - plenty of fruit, plenty of acidity and minerality by the bucket-load. Not to mention a good deal of complexity, for this would undoubtedly be a match for many a Côte d'Or Village wine (or better) from some pretty serious growers. One way or another, I must get some of these wines on my list - and very soon. Can Mâcon wines compete with the (ever more expensive) wines of the Côte d'Or? On this showing, I would say yes. Brilliant wine.

                    
               

A delicious white Burgundy and a delectable Cornas

There's a particularly vociferous Burgundy nut on one of the wine discussion boards that I frequent who contends that fruit is not something he particularly looks for (or even wants) in his aged Burgundies. Whilst I still demand some semblance of fruit in my red Burgundies (in fact, red anything - whether aged or not) I can sort of see where he is coming from, as far as the whites are concerned. Some may think that my over-use of fruit descriptors in tasting notes is an easy option - and I'd be the first to admit that my notes tend to have a uniformity of "style", relying quite heavily on fruit/flavour commentary, although I do very occasionally find myself drifting towards the poetic (or some may say pretentious)! But using fruit (which in wine normally means anything but grapes) to describe the flavours is, to my mind, one of the best ways of conveying the feel and style of a wine to the reader. That said - and for all it's many different guises - Chardonnay may well be the least "fruity" and most difficult to describe of all the grape varieties. Depending on where it comes from, you may get hints of apple, lemon, stone fruits, tropical fruits, whatever. But it is usually all about the flowery, minerally, earthy, fruit-in-a-non-fruit sort of way. Good Chardonay smells and tastes of Chardonnay - and good white Burgundy smells of white Burgundy - whatever that is. Here's a case in point, with my latest bottle of........

Domaine Michel Juillot Clos des Barraults 1999 Mercurey 1er CruI seem to remember that my previous bottle of this was a little kess evolved than this one, but that's bottle variation for you - and this is actually just as enjoyable. The only perceptible fruit remaining is baked apple, cut through with a bit of lemon juice - quite rich, but with a definte citrus tang. At almost 12 years of age, it may just be starting to tire a little, with some gentle oxidative notes, which I actually find attractive in aged white Burgundy. But it still shows plenty of Chardonnay (or should I say Burgundy) character, with fruit, minerality, terroir and some nicely integrated oak working in complete harmony. There's a hint of toffee apple (again, a sign that it is fading a bit) but that lovely lemony acidity keeps it fresh. There's also an interesting note of fresh root ginger - lightly spicy, in a cool climate sort of way. Mercurey isn't a grand appellation (it's in the Chalonnaise, some way to the south of the Cote d'Or) but this one certainly stands comparison to a good village Meursault. Lovely wine - who needs fruit?!

I actually have quite a backlog of notes from some really excellent tastings and dinners enjoyed recently. Not that I plan to write them all up, of course (that would be very boring) but I certainly plan to tell you about some of the better ones, when I have a little more time. Meanwhile, here's a particularly fine Northern Rhone for starters;

Thierry Allemand Chaillot 1998 Cornas

Still quite deep in colour with just a tiny pink-ish rim. The nose is a glorious expression of pure, traditional Northern Rhone Syrah - blackberry, raspberry and wild strawberry fruit aromas, mingled with lily of the valley and forest floor. There's a nice touch of savoury smoked bacon, beef stock and sun-dried tomato, but just enough to complement rather than smother the fruit, and what oak there is (or was) is now beautifully integrated. The palate too is traditional - a model of elegance and restraint - which is just how I like my wines. Again, there's plenty of fruit, some savouriness, and perhaps even a hint of rusticity, but there's a lightness of touch that makes it a real joy to drink, with present (but softening) tannins and the most wonderfully mouth-watering acidity. A Cornas for Burgundy lovers.