Though it crumbled, the cork was in good working order. And unlike recent 1985 half bottles, iirc, this capsule had a second layer of perfectly clear stiff cellophane, which almost looked new, in contrast with every other detail of the package. The outer capsule layer was made of that hefty pewter-like metal that ceased to be used everywhere by the 1990s. Mid-low neck fill, slightly lower than the other bottle I found.
LOOK: encouraging deep dark red; looks more like ten years old than it does forty-two. SCENT: gathers gradually from kilned black fruits and earth; within ten minutes arrive little amusing ruptures of fresh mints, mocha, and strawberry/poppyseed filling; pastry crust on iron; one thin slice of serrano ham. TEXTURE: this is where the action is, at least in the early stages; it starts like it smells—undulating, suggestive—before breaking into shards of brittle green herbs, brightly illuminated lingonberry, something else ineffable ... delicate, savory, shaped like a sweet shroud, wordlessly familiar. I'll attribute it to the rare magic of age for now. RETURN: aromatic liftoff; the bouquet is really finding stride. Dark, luxuriant pleadings of rose and opium; the intersection of vanilla and licorice; gossamer spring chervil. Eventually: lightly cherrywood smoked bacon. The palate bears down with precise tannins and bred animale acid. The drink is thoroughly dry, finishing in sour knots of sappy resin.
Recently purchased from display in VC on Plymouth Road. Dinner is braised beef shank and green salad with blue cheese dressing and rendered bacon ends. ________ last glass/5oz./150ml, dreamlike; those ineffable sensations begin to congeal into elaborate blond tobacco preparations, glancing toward cola/clove and fruitcake—all properly illuminated, with a view on glacial till and tide flats. Tannins approach aerosol stone dust.
It's a recent purchase from VC, Plymouth Rd.—about the only place I would trust to rescue something like this. Then, as the bottle stood in my basement, I began to regard it as a potential chore to drink. I can barely remember why. LOOK: cork more dry than wet, all in one piece. The pour is pretty and pale bright red; looks to be <10 years old, not 28. SCENT: o, that's interesting; sheer, stacked with eloquent arrangements in sharp, brittle spring herbs, frosted with mint and salt, and a savory, fluent, strawberry state that seems to burst into action as soon as it is beyond direct surveillance. As the clock ticks the middle fills with blooms, tea, and steeped mixed berry drippings. TEXTURE: angular at first, conceding just enough glycerin to complete the event; shaped by a transparent aerosol of baked brown brick tannins; edgy acidity is pulsing in a supple vascular net. Development and return sensations bring frankly appealing herb and mushroom in dry, savory shards of something like phantasmic botanical puff pastry (without any sensation of butter.) Resilient dry tannins wander off in the direction of cacao and granite. SUM: now that I know, I could hardly hesitate to buy another couple bottles, perhaps to share in confidence. 93 first 45 minutes. 92 after an hour.
France, Rhône, Southern Rhône, Châteauneuf-du-Pape
(5/1/2025)
375ml. Neck fill. Wet cork mostly in one piece. Red colored pour with a cowl of transparent black tea/coffee color. Cobwebs and mire characterize the aromas for the first 20-30 minutes, and then all that relaxes almost completely away. A drink reminds me of PAUL S's notes from 5500 days ago:
"nice, kirsch, winter-melon, dried flowers, mushrooms, earth, meatiness, incense, menthol. Burg-like. firm tannins, backbone, balance. dark cherries, orange peel, plum powder, ginseng, drying tannins, spice, dried fruit, rubber, ferrous metal. it started to unravel a little bit in the finish."
It also comes with retral aroma/flavor strongly marked, for me, of southern rhône—ferrous metals in particular, quenched in ceylon cassia, dripping like blood and prune.
This is the third of three recent retail rescues. It is a very good and enriching experience as a drink—thought provoking, magisterial—but I probably wouldn't buy it again (unlike the other two.)
1983 Paul Jaboulet Aîné Crozes-Hermitage Domaine de Thalabert 92 Points
France, Rhône, Northern Rhône, Crozes-Hermitage
(4/28/2025)
Though it crumbled, the cork was in good working order. And unlike recent 1985 half bottles, iirc, this capsule had a second layer of perfectly clear stiff cellophane, which almost looked new, in contrast with every other detail of the package. The outer capsule layer was made of that hefty pewter-like metal that ceased to be used everywhere by the 1990s. Mid-low neck fill, slightly lower than the other bottle I found.
LOOK: encouraging deep dark red; looks more like ten years old than it does forty-two. SCENT: gathers gradually from kilned black fruits and earth; within ten minutes arrive little amusing ruptures of fresh mints, mocha, and strawberry/poppyseed filling; pastry crust on iron; one thin slice of serrano ham. TEXTURE: this is where the action is, at least in the early stages; it starts like it smells—undulating, suggestive—before breaking into shards of brittle green herbs, brightly illuminated lingonberry, something else ineffable ... delicate, savory, shaped like a sweet shroud, wordlessly familiar. I'll attribute it to the rare magic of age for now. RETURN: aromatic liftoff; the bouquet is really finding stride. Dark, luxuriant pleadings of rose and opium; the intersection of vanilla and licorice; gossamer spring chervil. Eventually: lightly cherrywood smoked bacon. The palate bears down with precise tannins and bred animale acid. The drink is thoroughly dry, finishing in sour knots of sappy resin.
Recently purchased from display in VC on Plymouth Road. Dinner is braised beef shank and green salad with blue cheese dressing and rendered bacon ends.
________
last glass/5oz./150ml, dreamlike; those ineffable sensations begin to congeal into elaborate blond tobacco preparations, glancing toward cola/clove and fruitcake—all properly illuminated, with a view on glacial till and tide flats. Tannins approach aerosol stone dust.
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1997 Georges Dubœuf Moulin-à-Vent Domaine de la Tour du Bief 93 Points
France, Burgundy, Beaujolais, Moulin-à-Vent
(4/30/2025)
It's a recent purchase from VC, Plymouth Rd.—about the only place I would trust to rescue something like this. Then, as the bottle stood in my basement, I began to regard it as a potential chore to drink. I can barely remember why.
LOOK: cork more dry than wet, all in one piece. The pour is pretty and pale bright red; looks to be <10 years old, not 28.
SCENT: o, that's interesting; sheer, stacked with eloquent arrangements in sharp, brittle spring herbs, frosted with mint and salt, and a savory, fluent, strawberry state that seems to burst into action as soon as it is beyond direct surveillance. As the clock ticks the middle fills with blooms, tea, and steeped mixed berry drippings.
TEXTURE: angular at first, conceding just enough glycerin to complete the event; shaped by a transparent aerosol of baked brown brick tannins; edgy acidity is pulsing in a supple vascular net. Development and return sensations bring frankly appealing herb and mushroom in dry, savory shards of something like phantasmic botanical puff pastry (without any sensation of butter.) Resilient dry tannins wander off in the direction of cacao and granite.
SUM: now that I know, I could hardly hesitate to buy another couple bottles, perhaps to share in confidence. 93 first 45 minutes. 92 after an hour.
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1984 Clos des Papes Châteauneuf-du-Pape 89 Points
France, Rhône, Southern Rhône, Châteauneuf-du-Pape
(5/1/2025)
375ml. Neck fill. Wet cork mostly in one piece. Red colored pour with a cowl of transparent black tea/coffee color. Cobwebs and mire characterize the aromas for the first 20-30 minutes, and then all that relaxes almost completely away. A drink reminds me of PAUL S's notes from 5500 days ago:
"nice, kirsch, winter-melon, dried flowers, mushrooms, earth, meatiness, incense, menthol. Burg-like. firm tannins, backbone, balance. dark cherries, orange peel, plum powder, ginseng, drying tannins, spice, dried fruit, rubber, ferrous metal. it started to unravel a little bit in the finish."
It also comes with retral aroma/flavor strongly marked, for me, of southern rhône—ferrous metals in particular, quenched in ceylon cassia, dripping like blood and prune.
This is the third of three recent retail rescues. It is a very good and enriching experience as a drink—thought provoking, magisterial—but I probably wouldn't buy it again (unlike the other two.)
Post a Comment / Do you find this review helpful? Yes - No