Saturday December 10th, 2011
11am - 8pm
ALL DAY LONG!
Featuring:
2009 Beaucastel Chateauneuf du Pape
Other places in town: $99.99
Winestore Price: $79.99 (net)
SAVE 20%
2009 Coudoulet de Beaucastel Cotes du Rhone
Winestore Price: $24.99 (net)
2009 Perrin & Fils Cotes du Rhone Villages
Winestore Price: $12.99
In addition to our 15% case sale this weekend, we decided to put up the brand new (as it just landed two days ago) release of Beaucastel!
There’s no getting around it: there are some wines that we have personal connections to and for which those connections color our perceptions of those wines. Having discovered Chateau de Beaucastel early in my wine development, my rose colored glasses may indeed alter my view of the work of the Perrin family, who own Beaucastel as well as Coudulet and nearly countless iterations under the rubric Perrin et Fils.
Many of my compatriots evince a rather disrespectful tone when I talk about the Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Papes in my cellar: the usual complaint is that they have Brettanomyces. Maybe yes, maybe no. Okay, probably yes. Fine. I’ll just say yes. But Brett is not a bad thing, dammit, just because it’s now cool to hate it (and just because Parker likes it?). One man’s horse poop might be another woman’s scented leather; it’s very much subjective, like most wine attributes.
Ask the Perrin brothers and they’ll say, no, that’s not Brett. I’ve heard the same from Bordelais winemakers and I don’t believe them either. There’s little mistaking that edgy note of animal hide, the toasty note, the bandaid hints too. All telltale signs of Brett, assuredly, or so I have believed for years.
But of late I have begun to doubt what I know about Brett. Last year at a winemaker’s conference, I joined about four dozen winemakers in a massive blind tasting exercise: among the many characteristics we were seeking were Brett levels. I won’t describe the carnage (there’s a lot I got wrong) but the most shocking part for me was how rarely any of us (I’m dragging those winemakers under the bus with me) were able to spot Brett or its precursors. Sure, if the wine was reeking of Brett, we could spot it. But it’s the smaller levels, and the presence of those damned precursors (they go by names like furfurol and such) that seemed to slip by. We would accuse a wine of having Brett and then we’d look at the data and see that there was none. The next wine we would declare as clean and then, well, whadayaknow…there’s Brett there.
I have become more skeptical when my sommelier colleagues pronounce a wine as having Brett. Even a small amount of Brett might be bad, because the rap on Brett is that it gets worse with bottle time; I’ve certainly experienced that myself. I have very unhappy memories of the lovely 1982 Gruaud Larose; at least it was lovely for a year or two until the Brett simply destroyed the finish of the wine and smothered the fruit in a bandaid covered, bleeding animal skin. Or something like it.
So here we are discussing Beaucastel and I have focused upon the Brett controversy. Why? Because I opened a bottle of 1989 a few weeks ago with some of said Brett sleuths, each of whom expressed disdain for the wine, at least until I opened it. Then everybody grabbed their glass, slugged it down and asked for more. The Brett? Yeah, there was some leather going there, but so much else besides that. In a word, it was gorgeous.
Let’s be clear about one other thing: I’m writing about Beaucastel and Brett because if you have any sense at all (oh, yeah, and extra money), you will lay away some 2009 Beaucastel and maybe some Coudulet 2009 too. This is one of those vintages, like 2007, like 2005, like 1989, that will do some very wonderful things if given time and cellaring. And if you drink it today, you won’t sniff a whiff of Brett; it’s covered by lush, powerful fruit. If you ask the Perrins, they’ll say it’s not Brett at all. I no longer feel that I know the answer and I’m a bit weary of people who insist that they do.
Make no mistake: other than the Coudulet, the rest of the Perrin stable has no horsiness to it. They’re all solid examples of their respective appellations, and always at very good prices. And I feel badly that I’ve been given a bit of room to write about Beaucastel and that I’ve chosen to accentuate the negative. But I see this little missive as a chance to sow a little doubt in the haters’ minds, to muse about wine’s endless inexplicability, and to tease you into discovering one of those wines for which I have a strong personal connection and that has a personality all its own.
Happy tasting and we'll see you Saturday!
Doug Frost MS MW
Master Sommelier & Master of Wine
There’s no getting around it: there are some wines that we have personal connections to and for which those connections color our perceptions of those wines. Having discovered Chateau de Beaucastel early in my wine development, my rose colored glasses may indeed alter my view of the work of the Perrin family, who own Beaucastel as well as Coudulet and nearly countless iterations under the rubric Perrin et Fils.
Many of my compatriots evince a rather disrespectful tone when I talk about the Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Papes in my cellar: the usual complaint is that they have Brettanomyces. Maybe yes, maybe no. Okay, probably yes. Fine. I’ll just say yes. But Brett is not a bad thing, dammit, just because it’s now cool to hate it (and just because Parker likes it?). One man’s horse poop might be another woman’s scented leather; it’s very much subjective, like most wine attributes.
Ask the Perrin brothers and they’ll say, no, that’s not Brett. I’ve heard the same from Bordelais winemakers and I don’t believe them either. There’s little mistaking that edgy note of animal hide, the toasty note, the bandaid hints too. All telltale signs of Brett, assuredly, or so I have believed for years.
But of late I have begun to doubt what I know about Brett. Last year at a winemaker’s conference, I joined about four dozen winemakers in a massive blind tasting exercise: among the many characteristics we were seeking were Brett levels. I won’t describe the carnage (there’s a lot I got wrong) but the most shocking part for me was how rarely any of us (I’m dragging those winemakers under the bus with me) were able to spot Brett or its precursors. Sure, if the wine was reeking of Brett, we could spot it. But it’s the smaller levels, and the presence of those damned precursors (they go by names like furfurol and such) that seemed to slip by. We would accuse a wine of having Brett and then we’d look at the data and see that there was none. The next wine we would declare as clean and then, well, whadayaknow…there’s Brett there.
I have become more skeptical when my sommelier colleagues pronounce a wine as having Brett. Even a small amount of Brett might be bad, because the rap on Brett is that it gets worse with bottle time; I’ve certainly experienced that myself. I have very unhappy memories of the lovely 1982 Gruaud Larose; at least it was lovely for a year or two until the Brett simply destroyed the finish of the wine and smothered the fruit in a bandaid covered, bleeding animal skin. Or something like it.
So here we are discussing Beaucastel and I have focused upon the Brett controversy. Why? Because I opened a bottle of 1989 a few weeks ago with some of said Brett sleuths, each of whom expressed disdain for the wine, at least until I opened it. Then everybody grabbed their glass, slugged it down and asked for more. The Brett? Yeah, there was some leather going there, but so much else besides that. In a word, it was gorgeous.
Let’s be clear about one other thing: I’m writing about Beaucastel and Brett because if you have any sense at all (oh, yeah, and extra money), you will lay away some 2009 Beaucastel and maybe some Coudulet 2009 too. This is one of those vintages, like 2007, like 2005, like 1989, that will do some very wonderful things if given time and cellaring. And if you drink it today, you won’t sniff a whiff of Brett; it’s covered by lush, powerful fruit. If you ask the Perrins, they’ll say it’s not Brett at all. I no longer feel that I know the answer and I’m a bit weary of people who insist that they do.
Make no mistake: other than the Coudulet, the rest of the Perrin stable has no horsiness to it. They’re all solid examples of their respective appellations, and always at very good prices. And I feel badly that I’ve been given a bit of room to write about Beaucastel and that I’ve chosen to accentuate the negative. But I see this little missive as a chance to sow a little doubt in the haters’ minds, to muse about wine’s endless inexplicability, and to tease you into discovering one of those wines for which I have a strong personal connection and that has a personality all its own.
Happy tasting and we'll see you Saturday!
Doug Frost MS MW
Master Sommelier & Master of Wine
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