Chateau Margaux

As
a recent vertical tasting at the inappropriately named
California Wine Experience in Chicago clearly established,
the Chateau has over the past twenty odd years produced a
series of impeccably structured, absolutely delicious wines
which rank among the most thrilling in the world.
Expectations at this level, at the pinnacle of Bordeaux’
classified growth hierarchy, are always high, but the
consistency of Margaux over the past two decades has been
nothing short of amazing. Some of the vintages already rank
as modern classics that those fortunate enough to savor will
doubtlessly discuss in admiring tones for decades. One can
only marvel at their core of unmistakable quality despite
the vagaries of weather in the Medoc during this time span.
Surely, it’s reasonable to think, there is something magical
about the vineyard that unfailingly stamps its character on
the wine every year. But the fact is that this has not
always been so. As with many other storied Bordeaux
properties Margaux went through a period of darkness in the
not too distant past, a time when the Chateau’s pedigree and
reputation far exceeded the reality of wine that it
produced. I remember eagerly approaching vintages of Chateau
Margaux that I thought were bargain-priced and turned out to
be excessively thin, weedy and astringent. But this all
changed abruptly in the late 197O’s with a momentous
transfer of ownership and management to the Mentzelopoulos
family, whose investment in quality at all levels has been
responsible for the Chateau’s glorious revival.

There are a number of
reasons for Margaux’ renaissance under the Mentzelopoulos
regime, not least of which is the consistent guiding hand of
regisseur Paul Pontallier, who began work at the property in
1978 and has been responsible for each vintage since 1983.
Pontallier was on hand in Chicago, along with proprietress
Corinne Mentzelopoulos, to guide the thousand or so tasters
through eight of the finest vintages produced since the
legendary 1982. Pointing to the ineffable nature of wine
quality, Pontallier frankly pronounced that the contributing
factors are so complex that we can hardly specify exactly
what weather patterns create greatness in a wine. Sometimes,
he admitted, the quality level of a vintage comes as a
complete surprise. Pontallier’s review of the seasonal
variations, however, was highly instructive in piecing
together the often-fine stylistic differences among the
wines that were presented.

The most exciting aspect of
the vintage comparison was the opportunity to put the wines
in their proper context. Most often tasting, or drinking, a
First Growth is a humbling experience. So much seems to be
at stake, not least of which is the cost of the wines, that
sometimes, as I’ve discovered in conducting tastings of this
sort, there is a nerve-shattering element, as collectors
experience with varying degrees of satisfaction, what they
have purchased on faith. Experiencing the wines young
presents a special additional challenge: extrapolating to
how they might taste at some unspecified point in the future
when they are “ready” to drink. But as all of the famous
Bordeaux properties have invariably been on their game, so
to speak, since the early 198Os, the primary objective is to
recognize and appreciate, if not put into words, what it is
that makes each growth unique and distinctive. The question
we ask is not, How good is it, but, more crucially, What is
it? Margaux is Margaux and crucially, but perhaps subtly,
unlike any other wine in the world. Lining up eight vintages
affords a rare chance to note how each season’s particular
growing conditions effected the expression of its signature
flavors and aromas. For instance, several of the vintages
possessed a beautifully heady violet perfume that in some
years was overlain with more “sauvage” and herbal or gamey
elements and in others seemed just faintly distinguishable
from the equally omnipresent tobacco-ey black fruit accents.
Some vintages were silkier, others more forceful on the
palate. The distinctiveness of each stands out in greater
relief by virtue of being able to compare them directly. Of
course, if there is one regret at a tasting of this type
it’s that each wine in and of itself would have provided an
evening’s worth of contemplative pleasure in a setting with
appropriate food on the table where the time and attention
devoted to every sip would not have been abbreviated by the
necessity to move on to the next bottle. This is especially
so for me since I am often much slower to pronounce judgment
on what it is I even experience in the glass when the
subject is a wine of First Growth caliber. Given their
reputation, we demand more of these wines, and tasting them
we should demand more of ourselves. It seems appropriate to
gaze beneath their surface at an unhurried pace, to ask more
searching questions and to apply higher standards of
criticism. The pace naturally should slow, rather than
accelerate with the need to move on to our next encounter
with magnificence in the adjacent glass. Still, to me, if
the purpose is learning rather than sheer pleasure, the most
valid context for assessing a First Growth like Margaux is
juxtaposed against other vintages of itself and so this
tasting presented a remarkable opportunity to look more
closely not only at the property and the personalities who
guide it, but also at the evolution of winemaking in
Bordeaux in its most recent Golden Era.

We started off with the
most recently anointed year of the century (at least, that
is, until the 2OO3s hit), the millennial 2OOO vintage. It
was indeed a monumental wine, worthy of its famous year. In
this notoriously early, hot season, Chateau Margaux was
somewhat put to the test because of its penchant for late
harvesting. Often the Chateau is among the last of the Medoc
properties to finish picking – as Pontallier’s belief is
apparently that the longer the grapes are left to ripen, the
better the resulting wine will be. Part of the reason for
this may reflect the reduced percentage of earlier-harvested
Merlot (currently just 1O%) that Pontallier and his team
include in the Grand Vin in most recent vintages. The
hallmarks of the 2OOO growing season were all in evidence
here: aroma, concentration, exceptional ripeness and
balance. Equally typical of the year, the flavors of 2OOO
Margaux are accessible and forward. This most likely will be
one of those magical wines that tastes delicious from the
start, never goes into the closed up “dumb” phase that is
standard among the best quality wines of the Medoc, and just
keeps getting better.

The 2OOO spent an
especially long time in the new oak barrels which are used
every year (over 24 months), but the concentration of fruit
was such that it showed barely a trace of vanilla or other
obtrusive wood tones. The fragrance was at once understated
and quite complex for so young a wine. There were fleeting
nuances of sweet herbs, flowers, underbrush, and wood smoke
which promised a glorious future. But the real stunning
element was the lush texture. Richly endowed with ripe black
currant Cabernet fruit, slightly edgy yet seemingly soft in
tannin, this is one of those rare wines whose flavors are so
luminous and glowing they’re difficult to break apart and
analyze. Nothing really stands separate from the glorious
stylish whole. The 2OOO, which to me was marginally my
second favorite of the vintages, despite its youth, also
exhibits a signature of resonant sweetness that echoed
through all of the other selections to one degree or
another. When a vintage is hyped this relentlessly, one
approaches it with understandable skepticism, but if
anything the Margaux 2OOO’s capacities to delight on all
levels – its aromas, its texture, its promise of flavors to
come and especially its length – exceed all reasonable
expectations. To me the major surprise was how balanced this
wine tasted given the potential for over ripeness and
excessive alcohol that is always a danger in years with such
hot, picture perfect autumns.

1996 has a reputation for
having produced bold, powerfully structured, highly
extracted wines at its highest levels in the Medoc. If its
2OOO was surprising for its balance and elegance, Margaux
1996 provided an even bigger shock: it was positively
velvety, with subtle tones of smooth black cherry and
violet, grace notes of green pepper and spice. Many critics
regarded this as the finest Bordeaux of the vintage, which
it may well be, but the big intense tannins that I had read
about were not in evidence. As with the 2OOO, Cabernet notes
are dominant, although the acids seem even softer, the
tannins interestingly less intense. This is a wine made from
perfectly ripe fruit, the beneficiary of one of Bordeaux’
magnanimous Indian summers. Weather in 1996 was
unexceptional until September. Toward the end of this
crucial month it rained and then dried out again. October
proved exemplary, which was quite beneficial to properties
like Margaux which had the faith to delay harvesting until
the return of good weather.

The 1996 is still youthful
and somewhat muted in expression, but its class is evident
in the length of the finish, the fineness of the tannic
structure and the sweet, almost exotic lushness of its
fruit. Altogether the wine struck me as slightly richer but
at the same time less powerfully extracted than the 2OOO, at
virtually the same level of quality. I rated it a half step
behind, third most desirable of the great vintages on
display, and felt that its fleshier fruit would suit it even
better to New World Cabernet palates than the equally
delicious 2OOO. If I were guessing as to which would have
more ultimate staying power it would be 2OOO, but the 1996
is a wine that will be with us for quite a long time as
well. Like the 2OOO, it is deceptively forward and
irresistible now.

The 1995 vintage
experienced rain at the harvest as well, with a similar
drying and return of sunny weather afterwards. Summer
weather was hotter than in 1996, so ripeness was already
assured, but again the late harvesters like Margaux
benefited from extra degrees of concentration and flavor
development. To me this wine, spectacular as it was, showed
a slightly different character than the 1996 and 2OOO:
equally sweet, it was a bit rougher around the edges. The
alcohol level seemed a bit higher, the tannins marginally
stronger and acidity proportionately less pronounced. 1995
Margaux to me showed a more understated floral aroma, with
slightly mentholated, green herb and jammy notes. There was
a slight dash of alcohol apparent as well.

The omnipresent sweet ripe
fruit flavors were punctuated with gamey, earthy tones, and
perhaps a suggestion of clove and other dark spices.
Pontallier suggested that at the time of harvesting he did
not expect the 1995 to evolve in the manner that it has, he
did not foresee its concentration and depth. I rated the
wine very high, fourth overall, complete in its own way but
perhaps just a shade behind the 1996 because of the slightly
more aggressive texture. I think that it will be a long
distance runner and, interestingly, to me it is less opulent
at this stage than its two younger siblings, less revealing
of its charms. If I had to guess I would place its peak
ultimate drinking time to be somewhere further out on the
spectrum than the 1996 and perhaps even the 2OOO.

So many vintages of the
century compressed into so short a time period! 199O would
have been an amazing, unprecedented year in Bordeaux, were
it not for its immediate predecessor. 1989 was the earliest
harvest since 1893, and yet 199O trumped it. Both have since
been eclipsed by 2OO3. In all three years there were massive
summer heat waves coinciding with drought conditions which
threatened to shut down vine maturation. Whereas the weather
in 1989 was so unexpected that it left some producers at a
loss for how to achieve balance in their extremely ripe,
somewhat heat stressed grapes, by 199O many had learned from
the experience of the previous vintage and were better
prepared. Cabernet dominant producers like Margaux, in fact,
held off harvesting until the vines recovered balance. If
anything, acidity levels have always tasted to me slightly
more muted in the 199Os, which is interesting because I also
find the wines more classically structured than many of the
1989s.

There is a freshness to the
199O Chateau Margaux that is surprising in a wine that is
now 14-years-old. The Margaux florality is there in all its
glory, accented with smokey tobacco-like scents, oily herbal
essences and a perfume of cedar, mushrooms and earth. On the
palate the tannins have softened to the point of creaminess.
The wine is fully extracted, but somehow a bit more blunt
than its three younger siblings. Balanced, delicious, but
somehow less nuanced in my estimation, the 199O Margaux
strikes me as a wine of sensual charm, fully pleasurable but
less challenging and intriguing in the end. Interestingly,
it tastes ready to drink at this stage, beautiful and
harmonious in its own right but somewhat behind most of the
other vintages in terms of depth and interest. I rated it
seventh among the eight on display, although it certainly
would have ranked much higher if the question were which one
would you choose for dinner tonight.

1989 and 199O are destined
to be discussed together, just as 1995 and 1996 are. This
was the year that broke all of the records, and Pontallier
recalled how there was a sense of well being in Bordeaux at
the time – that the vintage provided perfect conditions.
Then, afterwards, proponents of the classic, or traditional
Bordeaux style, leveled criticisms that the intense heat
produced wine that was too ripe and perhaps out of balance.
This has actually always been my feeling about 1989: a
great, but flawed vintage, where the extract and sheer
immensity of the fruit somewhat overwhelmed the balance.
There was also the problem of dilution, as the crop was
enormous, although to be fair, it has never surfaced in my
tasting of any wines at the top levels of the
Medoc.

1989 Margaux, fine as it
is, pales somewhat in comparison to the other vintages on
display. The bouquet was somewhat weaker, with flashes of
cedary fruit, but the real problem to me was the somewhat
pruney quality of the flavors. Acidity seemed less prominent
than tannin and the rather overripe fruit extraction, and
this was the one wine among the eight that at times struck
me as a bit out of balance. The characteristic sweetness did
not have enough in the way of a supporting cast, and I did
not see how, at fifteen years of age, this wine was going to
improve. It was shown, of course, in very august company,
but still I expected more in the way of depth, structure and
nuance.

1986 was, according to
Pontallier, an amazing vintage which combined high yields
with extraordinary concentration and quality. Pontallier
noted that this was first vintage where he thinned the crop,
a costly practice that is almost standard practice now in
all but the most meager vintages. At the time of release the
wines were characterized as classically austere and somewhat
raw boned, but possessing the depth of fruit necessary to
last for a long time. Tasting 1986 Margaux now confirms the
truth of these earlier impressions. The wine is still
somewhat youthful and compact, although it has shed whatever
hard edge of tannin it once may have exhibited. Its
reputation, while always high in the US, has always stood at
the very pinnacle among Bordeaux insiders who appear to
prize structure over opulence.

My sense of the 1986 was
that its aroma comprised a pure and impressive melange of
herbs, berries, tobacco, and plums. Its soft, silky and
sweet, balanced fruit profile exuded harmony and
characteristic Margaux finesse combined with a lush
sensuality that reminded me of the 2OOO. Somehow it struck
me as a wine that, while fabulous today, was still holding
back some of its charms. Quite impressive, I ranked it just
slightly behind the 1995 in quality, or fifth in this
context, although, unlike some of the other wines, it does
appear to still be on an upward evolutionary slope. I would
expect it will not peak for another ten years at
least.

If you look at the charts,
the 1983 vintage in Bordeaux ranks far behind each of the
seven others that Chateau Margaux chose to present, and yet
the wine they produced that vintage was, to me, the greatest
of all. It’s no surprise to students of Bordeaux that 1983
was something special in the Margaux appellation, where the
slightly lower volume of rain it experienced at critical
points late during the season made for more concentration
and finer, cleaner fruit expression. I had tasted the 1983
Margaux, as I had most of these wines, before, but I can’t
say I was prepared for how amazingly beautiful it has now
become. A profusion of currants leaped out of the glass,
underlain with a perfume of pure sweet, mint-accented herbs.
But the really most stunning attribute of this wine, that
was my highest rated of all, is the thick, luscious, almost
fat black fruit flavor. Low in acidity but very high in
extract, the finish of the 1983 kept expanding, with new
sensations of anise, blackberry and mocha alternating for
center stage. The amazing thing is that this wine was so
complete that it tasted as though it could not possibly
improve any further, yet it showed no signs of approaching
maturity. Perhaps now at twenty one years of age it is at
perfect peak drinkability. At any rate, it’s hard to imagine
a wine any better than this, although some of the younger
vintages may rival or outdistance it when they evolve
further. If I had to guess I would say that the 1983 Margaux
will remain at this marvelous pinnacle for at least another
ten years.

In retrospect the late
summer heat and early harvesting that took place in Bordeaux
may have seemed exceptional at the time, but were actually
mild in comparison to many of the seasons that have followed
in the past twenty odd years. To me the 1982s have always
had one foot in the past and one in the present, but they
are not a fully “modern” vintage. Techniques of harvesting
and winemaking were more traditional, the region was less
prosperous, and there was less confidence that some of the
quality decisions that are costly but have become routine
since among the region’s royalty, would pay dividends.
Therefore I have always had a more skeptical feeling about
the 1982s than some of the more recent great vintages, while
at the same time acknowledging the impact their ripeness and
opulence made at the time in the context of the region’s
history.

Margaux 1982 is a wine I
have tasted many times over the years and it has frankly
struck me as all over the board in terms of quality. For the
first several years I found it so incredibly tannic and
closed that it was one of the hardest wines I’ve ever had to
evaluate. The bottle I tasted in Chicago last November was
wonderful. It showed the signature sweetness and ripeness of
the Chateau as much as any of the other vintages on display.
But it did have a more rustic, barnyard-like, leafy
earthiness than any of the other vintages. It’s something I
happen to love, but I always associate with more traditional
wine making than any of the other vintages displayed. The
fruit was brilliant and spicy, very ripe, but somehow not
supple. Acids were quite low in comparison to the high
extract and alcohol. To a certain extent I felt that the
fruit was just beginning to dry out, that it had seen the
crest of the hill and was beginning a long downward ascent.
Certainly in comparison to the glorious 1983, this wine
seemed more mature, less vibrant and sumptuous. It ranked
sixth in my estimation, ahead of only the 199O and 1989,
although I’m not sure if the issue of bottle variation that
I’ve noted before might have had an impact here. The older
the wine we taste, the more the bottles seem to
differ.

The tasting left me with a
clear sense of what Chateau Margaux has been and where it is
headed. Overall these wines were all exemplars of their
region. There is an extra dimension of length and depth that
Margaux exhibits, a sweeter, riper fruit profile that sets
it apart today. Whereas one might once have pointed to
Chateau Latour as the Bordeaux with the finest track record
in the marginal vintages, Margaux often now takes that
honor. In the great vintages it particularly shines where
the Cabernet is king. What never fails to strike me about
Margaux is its layering of flavor, its tantalizing length.
Less massive than its counterparts in the Pauillac, Margaux
is often deceptively agreeable in its youth. It’s probably
been the consistent best bet among the First Growths for
restaurant consumption prior to its fifteenth birthday: a
wine of opposites, elegant and strong, forceful and
charming.