1998 in the Côte d’Or had a reputation on release for transparency and that may have been a bit of a euphemism for joy-deficiency. Plenty of soil notes, but wine is made with fruit, right? And upon opening this 1998 is seemingly lean, mean, and a not just a little green. No detectable flaws, but game, dirt, tar, dirt, earth, dirt, tobacco and well, dirt dominate the organoleptic impressions. I think there’s some iron and black pepper in there and just a hint of red stone fruit. Overall, the impression is pinched and a bit tired. But upon the advice of Burgundy mensch Keith B. I gave this a decant (and enjoyed a bit of Pharoah Sanders and a couple of martinis). And lo, 90 plus minutes worked wonders, if not miracles. (More finding $50 in a pair of pants from the dry cleaners rather than walking on water, still quite a pleasant turnaround.) The nose is more effusive with bits of violet, red plum flesh and cherry pit, rather than gravel pit. There’s some game here, but more discreet than Marlin Perkins’ (ask your parents) Wild Kingdom. On the palate the acidity is prominent—though enlivening—and the tannins are neatly resolving. Red fruits, a bit of black tea, and a brisk salty core act as a foundation for the wine. Furthermore the energy seems bumped up by time in the decanter. There’s great articulation here, if not flair—more Rod Steiger growl than suave Cary Grant; still it’s a heck of a performance. Very good with pan-roasted magret with a miso, soy, maple glaze and wilted Swiss chard. Pleased if not ecstatic about this showing. That said, i’m happy to have a couple more bottles. Give this some air and there’s a fine bottle of Burgundy here.