I had a lot of reasons not to write this column.
For one, it stretches back to the other side of the divide, before the pandemic, when the wine panel was able to convene and taste together without trepidation.
It seems unreal to recall sitting down in unmasked fellowship on a chilly day at the end of February. We had the pleasure of tasting village reds from the Côte de Beaune, the southern section of the heart of Burgundy, all from the deliciously drinkable 2017 vintage.
As usual, Florence Fabricant and I were joined by two guests, Katja Scharnagl, the chef sommelier at Le Bernardin, and Matthew Conway, the wine director and a partner at Marc Forgione and Peasant.
So much has changed. Now, the future of these and many restaurants is uncertain, as are the fate of millions of jobs and livelihoods.
The cost of the wine also gave me pause. Although these bottles are good values given the current high cost of Burgundy, they are nonetheless relatively expensive at $30 to $70. With so many people hurting, should we really be considering them?
I had doubts as well beyond the pandemic. Given the strife and animosity in the wake of the George Floyd killing, and the existential questions Americans are now debating, how do we even begin to talk about wine?
It’s an internal dialogue that I imagine occurs among many serious-minded individuals who occasionally feel a sense of futility, as if their fields have overnight become irrelevant frivolities given the world’s problems.
It is true that wine is often no more than a pleasant triviality, something to take the edge off, to ease pain. Opening a bottle and pouring a glass has always served as a popular mode of self-medication, no more so than in these fearful, lonely times.
But good wine can also inspire thoughtful contemplation and introspection, which perhaps now more than ever is in short supply. And it can lead to caring conversations as well, to listening as well as talking, to shared bonds, to new memories and more humane ways of thinking.
I’m not saying good wine is a panacea. It’s up to people to find solutions. But wine has the power to bring people together as surely as a great meal. Few wines are better equipped than Burgundy to inspire this sort of reflection on values, joy, sorrow and shared humanity.
It’s no accident that in the last 20 years, Burgundy has become the most coveted wine in the world. That is due in part to status-seeking and trophy-chasing, undeniably.
But Burgundy’s arrival as a luxury good followed its rise in popularity. Part of its appeal is its soulfully complex, subtle and joyful aromas and flavors. The pleasure of Burgundy is amplified many times over by an intellectual attraction to the idea of terroir.
This notion that wine can express the culture of the place in which it was produced is at its most powerful in Burgundy. Nowhere else are the characteristics of land and community envisioned with such intricate detail.
The basic idea is that where the grapes grow will dictate a wine’s personality. A Gevrey-Chambertin, in this way of thinking, will taste different from a Volnay. It ought to, and if it doesn’t, something is wrong.
But that’s just the beginning. The culture and upbringing of the vigneron, the person who grows the grapes and makes the wine, is also paramount. A Gevrey-Chambertin made by a Volnay vigneron will differ from a Gevrey vigneron’s Gevrey.
In Burgundy, that’s to be expected. Not only do the soil, drainage, bedrock and climate of Gevrey differ from those of Volnay, the entire way of thinking and feeling, and therefore of making wine, differs as well.
This is what makes Burgundy so fascinating to so many people. That’s not to suggest that the exercise of identifying one terroir rather than another is easy. The differences are subtle and nuanced, and it takes long-term immersive experience to achieve that level of expertise.
But experts can do it. For the rest of us, it’s great and delicious fun to try to decipher terroir, though just as often it’s fine to ignore the question altogether in favor of a good meal, good company and a conversation that has nothing to do with wine.
I mentioned that our subject was reds from the Côte de Beaune. The heart of Burgundy, the Côte d’Or, is a long, narrow swath of land that encompasses limestone-and-clay soils, flatlands and a series of east- and south-facing slopes south of the city of Dijon.
The northern half, the Côte de Nuits, contains the most esteemed red wine appellations, including Gevrey-Chambertin, Morey-St.-Denis, Chambolle-Musigny and Vosne/-Romanée.
The southern half, the Côte de Beaune, begins just north of the city of Beaune, and includes wonderful white wine appellations like Corton-Charlemagne, Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet and Chassagne-Montrachet.
It also includes a number of red wine areas like Volnay, Pommard, Monthelie and Santenay; numerous appellations around Beaune, including Savigny-lès-Beaune and Chorey-lès-Beaune, and around Corton, like Aloxe-Corton and Pernand-Vergelesses.
Within the hierarchy of Burgundy, in which vineyards are judged on their potential to yield great and distinctive wines, the most exalted vineyards are the grand crus. Just underneath are the premier cru vineyards, which are thought to be exceptional enough to warrant singling out, but not so great as to achieve the peak ranking.
These days, grand cru Burgundies are priced well beyond the reach of most consumers. Increasingly, premier crus are as well, with many over $100 a bottle.
But village wines — those that are distinctive enough to reflect the characteristics of a village, but from vineyards not judged to have further singular features — are still sometimes within reach. Those from the Côte de Beaune are especially good values, relatively speaking, because the region has generally been more exalted for its whites than for its reds.
We tasted 20 bottles from the 2017 vintage, which I called deliciously drinkable because they won’t require years of aging and because, yes, the wines are easygoing in the best sense.
We all loved the wines. Our favorites were elegant, beautiful expressions of what Burgundy has to offer. Matthew felt that climate change had benefited village wines in that fully ripening the grapes was far less of a problem than it might have been in some past decades.
Florence said 2017 was a great vintage for drinkers if not collectors, while Katja pointed out that, as good as the vintage was, some of the wines seemed too oaky. Those did not make our top 10.
Our top bottle was the graceful, energetic Savigny-lès-Beaune from Chandon de Briailles, a serious wine that was nonetheless joyful, a neat trick. But then, Chandon de Briailles is an excellent producer, and its wines are often great values. Even in a year like 2017, they will reward a bit of aging.
The three producers in the next tier were likewise superb, including our runner-up, the opulent yet focused Pommard from Benjamin Leroux; the balanced, energetic, slightly exotic Monthelie from Pierre Morey at No. 3; and the savory, complex Volnay from Henri Boillot.
These were followed by the juicy, graceful Chorey-lès-Beaune Les Beaumonts from Louis Chenu Père & Filles. This was my first encounter with Chenu, run by two sisters who took over from their father. I very much appreciated the easygoing grace of the wine.
At No. 6 was the subtle, complex Savigny-lès-Beaune Vieilles Vignes from Pierre Guillemot, while No. 7 was the spicy, floral Aloxe-Corton from Tollot-Beaut & Fils, at $65 the most expensive bottle in our top 10.
The next two bottles were cheaper, both $30, excellent values even if we liked them a cut less than the top seven. They included the rich yet slightly rustic Chorey-lès-Beaune Clos Margot from Bernard Dubois & Fils and the lightly tannic, alluring Chorey-lès-Beaune Le Grand Saussy from Camus-Bruchon.
The rich and resonant Santenay Vieilles Vignes from Paul Pillot rounded out our top 10.
As I mentioned earlier, this was the result of a February pre-pandemic tasting. It may be that you will find different wines in the marketplace now, though 2017s should still be available.
I understand these wines are not cheap. But it’s the cost of doing business if you want to understand or enjoy Burgundy.
Some less expensive options might include wines from the Maranges area, bottles labeled Hautes Côtes de Nuits or Hautes Côtes de Beaune and those from the Côte Chalonnaise, an area to the south of the Côte d’Or. Or consider a splurge if the news should turn good.
It’s only wine, I know. It’s not a solution, but I’m glad that we have it.
Tasting Notes: The Village Reds
★★★½ Chandon de Briailles Savigny-lès-Beaune 2017 $47
Lovely, graceful and energetic, with delicate floral aromas and lingering flavors of earthy red fruits. (Bowler Wine, New York)
★★★ Benjamin Leroux Pommard 2017 $63
Full, rich and opulent, yet tightly focused, with aromas and flavors of flowers, red fruits and minerals. (Becky Wasserman & Co./Verity Wine Partners, New York)
★★★ Pierre Morey Monthelie $50 2017
Rich, balanced and energetic, with exotic aromas and flavors of earthy red fruits; needs some time. (Becky Wasserman & Co./Grand Cru Selections, New York)
★★★ Henri Boillot Volnay 2017 $53
Rich, substantial and balanced, with savory, complex, earthy flavors. (Wine Cellars, Briarcliff Manor, N.Y.)
★★★ Louis Chenu Père & Filles Chorey-lès-Beaune Les Beaumonts 2017 $40
Rich and juicy, yet graceful, with easygoing aromas and flavors of flowers and red fruits. (Wilson Daniels Wholesale, New York)
★★★ Pierre Guillemot Savigny-lès-Beaune Vieilles Vignes 2017 $42
Subtle, complex and focused, with floral, mineral and red-fruit flavors. (Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant, Berkeley, Calif.)
★★★ Tollot-Beaut & Fils Aloxe-Corton 2017 $65
Lightly tannic, yet pretty, with floral aromas and spicy, herbal accents. (Craft & Estate/Winebow, New York)
Best Value
★★½ Bernard Dubois & Fils Chorey-lès-Beaune Clos Margot 2017 $30
Earthy, lightly tannic and rustic, with rich flavors of dark fruits. (Skurnik Wines, New York)
★★½ Camus-Bruchon Chorey-lès-Beaune Le Grand Saussy 2017 $30
Lightly tannic, with floral and red-fruit flavors, and a touch of citrus. (Polaner Selections, Mount Kisco, N.Y.)
★★½ Paul Pillot Santenay Vieilles Vignes 2017 $50
Rich, robust and resonant, with fresh, red berry fruit. (Skurnik Wines)
Pairings: Swordfish au Poivre
Au poivre, the peppery French finish for a steak, is simpler and more versatile than its fancy-sounding name suggests. A quick pan sauce of cream and Cognac enrobes a seared piece of meat fueled with crushed black or green peppercorns. But it doesn’t have to be used only for meat. For example, at Veronika, a gilded restaurant that landed in the Fotografiska Museum in Gramercy before the pandemic, the chef, Robert Aikens, applied the au poivre formula to a thick fist of tender celeriac, with excellent results. Boneless chicken breasts are another possibility. Here, to accompany the youngish pinot noirs in our glasses, I opted for something less robust than beef: swordfish steaks, though you could use another densely textured slab of fish like halibut or grouper. But producing au poivre is strictly à la minute: Have your ingredients ready to apply so the wait time for serving is minimal. The recipe is easily reduced to serve two for that date-night dinner while sequestered at home with a good bottle of Burgundy to share. Light the candles.
FLORENCE FABRICANT
