I promised a return to Burgundy and the 2014 vintage, which becomes no less impressive when recollected in tranquillity. We started at Marc Morey, where Sabine Mollard presented her Bourgogne Blanc. How did it compare with Pierre Bourée’s similar wine, often praised in this column? (We had sampled his ’15 the previous evening.) There is a simple answer: I would prefer the one I had tasted most recently. We are dealing with village wines, along the foothills of greatness. But in their delightful harmonies of butter, lemon, hay and spring flowers, there are hints of the grandeurs of Montrachet.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Not quite, but a charming spring day, certainly. If you drink no lesser wine in the course of this summer, you will have spent a delightful season. The Marc Morey wine was already drinkable, though another year or even two would do no harm. The Frogs will be guzzling the stuff already, but they are a hasty race, except when it comes to defending their country.
We moved on to Fontaine-Gagnard, a great producer. Richard Fontaine, our host, is a former test pilot, with the scars to prove it. No one would insult his military brio. There was a hint of the long-haired boys in silk scarves who flew Spitfires in the Battle of Britain. Though I would hate to accuse him of being a Bordelais, he had a Gascon swagger. Any husband would find him enchanting company, but might wish to ensure that the wife was under lock and key.
In most Burgundian domaines there are now spittoons. There, we still used the gravel underneath the barrels. ‘Cracher’ is so much more expressive than ‘spit’: a hint of onomatopoeia.
Richard’s village Chassagne-Montrachet tasted like a Premier Cru; his Premier Crus like Grand Crus.
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