Only One glass Per vine
By Bernard Ledermann
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Consider the plight of Count Alexandre de Lur-Saluces: his Chateau d’Yquem (Dee-KEM, though Ee-KEM will suffice) produces the supreme essence of dessert-style wine; honeyed gold to please any gathering of gods. In France, it is a national treasure. In the rest of the world, serious collectors expend much effort—and financial resources—to include a few vintages of this unique gift of nature in their cellars. Exalted wine or not, rarely a week passes that Lur-Saluces doesn’t hear the refrain, “I just don’t care for sweet wines,” or “I’d sooner stay with a red.” It’s enough to make an old nobleman dyspeptic. It’s not as if the Count is marketing so much abhorrent treacle.
Lordly Yquem is covered under the umbrella appellation, Sauternes (So-TAIRN—the ‘s’ at the end is not pronounced). This commune (township) within Bordeaux maintains 4700 acres of vineyards, making it a relatively small—but treasured—producing entity. Some argue that d’Yquem, long the leading light of the commune is so incomparable that it deserves its own appellation, in the manner of the intriguing Chateau Grillet over in the valley of the French Rhône.
If Yquem had a motto, it might be “Orderly and Constant.” Orderly and true to its rigorous production régime and certainly constant in direction as fixed by the family Lur-Saluces, which has owned this valuable property for 216 years. In fact, the “original” count—Alexandre’s great-great-great granduncle—was already in place when U.S. Ambassador to France, Thomas Jefferson, paid a call at the chateau in 1787 to taste and buy Yquem’s noble sweet wines—purchases Jefferson is said to have shared with friend George Washington at Mount Vernon, Virginia. It is surmised the wine sampled by our first and third Presidents was probably in a similar style to today’s, sweet and rich—what the French call liquoreux.
Whether the wine showed effects of “noble rot” (about which details follow) is unlikely, although one could suppose there were tinges present when vineyard conditions were right. Chateau cellar books don’t note the unique foulness until 1847, a vintage of which Russian Archduke Constantine snapped up one hundred cases at the unthinkable offering of twenty thousand gold francs. The steps and circumstances in creating a bottle of Yquem have always made for an expensive product, even before it exits the cellar door.
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Earlier columns in this series have made passing reference to a freak of nature that can be used to concentrate the sugar and aromas of certain grapes in the winemaking process. A noble rot, or Botrytis Cinerea (Bo-TREET-iss Sin-uh-RAY-uh), the botanical term, is spontaneously provoked by benevolent bacteria. When the mold attacks overripe grape clusters that are allowed to hang on the vine well into the autumn, a chain reaction of sorts occurs: skins of the grapes are loosened, grapes shrivel, water is allowed to evaporate, and sugars and pectins concentrate and intensify, as do all aroma-enriching elements.
Any commentary on Botrytis must carry provisos. Foremost, the rot requires a particular environment in which to develop. In the micro-climate (so much bluster on this topic, but validly so in the case of Sauternes) found on Yquem’s peculiar slopes, summer brings many days of clear skies, warm (seldom blistering) temperatures, and moderate humidity. There follows an autumnal period lasting from six to eight weeks—September into early November—when damp mists shroud the grapes until 10 a.m. or so, after which the fruit is again exposed to a sunny interval before more mist descends at nightfall. Under these conditions does the foulness flourish.
It must be noted that Botrytis does not attack all clusters or individual berries evenly, so Yquem will send crews of seventy-five or more pickers on as many as ten different sweeps through the vines, over a month or more, to hand-select only those clusters of grapes at their peak of ripeness and “infection.” After picking, grapes are then manually sorted to insure uniform quality. You don’t have to be an accountant to see how such meticulous harvesting practices inflate labor costs. It’s simply a course too onerous and expensive for other Sauternais to emulate.
Should you find yourself in southwest France, either headed for Spain’s Basque country, or with a half day on your hands, consider a blitz-visit to the Sauternes district, its inner enclave Barsac, and, of course, the supreme Yquem.
Starting at the ancient port city of Bordeaux, you can drive the twenty-plus miles to the village of Sauternes (use N 113, the old Barsac road) in less than three-quarters of an hour. You may find the landscape unimpressive. That changes when you enter Sauternes, with the countryside now undulating, laced with gliding streams, and offering some pretty vantage points. Stop at the Maison du Vin on Sauternes’ main square (English is understood and—surprise!—willingly spoken.) and let the helpful guides get you situated on the scenic Circuit du Sauternais. You’ll learn that Yquem doesn’t encourage visitors; on the other hand, you won’t be turned away, either.
Just north of Sauternes village, situated on a green hilltop which magically breaks out of the rolling countryside, you’ll find Yquem. Built on the site of an ancient fortress, today’s manor house maintains the look of a stronghold.
Beyond this advantageous siting, expect few wonders during a visit at Yquem. In fact, the look of the unadorned winery buildings and the workaday equipment may leave you wondering how the magic is accomplished. But wizardry it is, due in large part to the grapes.
While Yquem maintains around 225 acres of vines, mostly planted to Sémillion (of which eighty per cent of the finished wine is composed; Sauvignon Blanc the remaining twenty), barely two hundred acres yield grapes up to the estate’s exacting standards. When the Chateau’s long-time vineyard director feels a certain block of vines is declining in vigor, he’ll have the plantings uprooted, set ablaze (meat smoked over the burning vines acquires an amazing flavor), and keep the plot quiescent for at least three years before replanting.
Noted wine writer Alexis Lichine once figured that a single vine at Yquem yields a scant glassful of wine—less, in a good year! Given such restricted output, it’s news if the chateau realizes more than 7,000 cases per harvest. A severe pruning policy is upheld in the vineyard, so the director wouldn’t allow much more than that limited goal anyway.
After harvest, the estate’s late-picked grapes are pressed up to three separate times, yielding a “must” (juice to be fermented) that becomes increasingly more sugar-concentrated. At no time does the must of the two grape varieties spend time together while the yeasts do their work; instead, there is always separation in new Slovenian oak barrels. This is a process of nearly obsessive selectivity.
With fermentation completed, the rich youthful wines are racked (lifted off their gross sediment and transferred) every three months for thirty-six months before final blending and bottling. Right up to bottling time, certain casks may be found unsuitable for Y’quem, as happened in 1972 and 1974, when all were rejected and the world saw not a whit of Y’quem. In those years, rejected wine was held over to produce an interesting dry table wine shipped as Chateau ‘Y’ (Ygrec).
While the Chateau has no strict aging policy, a particular vintage may rest in glass six months or more after bottling. That means a wait of least forty-two months from fermentation to release. No wonder a splendid 1995 vintage is just now appearing in many U.S. markets.
Certainly Yquem’s initial asking price will make up some difference: prepare to pay a shuddering $150.00 per half bottle (12.6 ounces of nectar). Out of the question for you? Think about a strategy used by me and a group of six friends some years ago. Together
we prepared our version of a five-star dinner accompanied by moderately-priced red and white table wines. For dessert, we shared a full bottle of the 1970 Yquem with Bananas Foster (as it turned out, a less than desirable pairing because the rum flambée clashed) toward which each of us had contributed $10.00 and change. Those were times when Sauternes was momentarily out-of-fashion for some; for us wine/food geeks, a propitious time to share a rare gustatory moment.
A happy amalgam of Yquem and food isn’t that easily forged, as shown by the banana failure recounted above. For me, who finds Yquem’s lusciousness difficult to pair with anything, the best solution has been THE BOTTLE ITSELF with a nosh of hazelnuts on the side. Let the wine be the total experience. At one time, a certain school of hedonists thought foie gras and Yquem was the heavenly match. Hmm, I’ve done that, and have yet to find any meat fare, short of a peccary terrain, that pairs well. On my palate, meat gives the wine a tinny flavor.
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It is normal to enjoy Yquem, especially of a banner harvest, up to fifty years and more following the vintage date. Beware: wine of an older vintage will likely appear with a tawny color in the glass. Don’t be disturbed. Your Yquem is not suffering a chemical slump, just maturing. Do not send it back!
Although limited, my experiences with Yquem have included two important vintages, two of lesser splendor, and one thirty-year-old bottle which should have been more memorable.
Briefly, some scribblings while tasting, starting with the 1988—from a half-bottle with seven persons sharing (and no food), tasted especially for this article. By far, the finest, most complex Yquem of the four noted here. Lovely marigold color; bouquet of shredded coconut and peaches; very oleaginous on the tongue; explosive mid-palate, almost liqueur-ish (suggestive of Grande Marnier); several interlocking layers of lusciousness, with the accent on honey tangerines; a long finish; surprisingly crisp after thirteen years. Most memorable.
1984—tasted shortly after release. (1991, was it?) A jauntily rich mouthful, drinking quite well in its youth. A toasty, smoky bouquet and a palate-load of tropical fruit. Hope to revisit it sometime.
1970—tasted at the thirty-year mark, early in 2000. Rarely do my notes concur with Robert Parker’s, but on this bottle I agree the vintage—initially trumpeted in every corner of Bordeaux—lacks grace and interest. Color is deepening on schedule, but the fruit is swooning, the acidity taking too much prominence. Hope it’s a matter of bottle variation, though that’s rare with Yquem. Left most of the tasting group indifferent. Did the Bananas Foster interfere?
1982 (in half bottle)—plump and juicy with years to go before peak maturity. Botrytis subdued; truly ambrosial with a startling vanillin layer and an impression of honeyed peaches just starting to show. After thirty minutes in the glass, its fragrance is almost cardamom-like. Track down a bottle of this one.
Budget Sauternes
If you and your wine friends are reluctant to spring for Yquem’s prices (in some markets, the 1990 vintage sells for $165 a half bottle), you can still decently get the feel of Sauterne with some affordable and sometimes provocative bottlings from Yquem’s neighbors. Reluctantly it must be reported that stepped-up demand—especially in the U.S. and Japan—has created “luxury prices” for estates ranked just behind Yquem, notably Chateaus Climens, Suduiraut, and Rieussec. This important threesome is commanding prices of at least $200 the full bottle for heralded older vintages. Among the so-called “second growths” (two steps removed from Yquem), there are still occasional values to be found among Chateaus Filhot, de Malle, and Raymond-Lafon, the 1990 of which ($35, in half bottle) impresses me. That might be expected with a producer sometimes labeled a “baby Yquem.”
Less than a mile west of Yquem in the growing enclave of Bommes, the Lamourette property produces some lovely wines—especially the 1996 ($16, half bottle), just tasted. To the north, the commune of Barsac includes the Liot vineyard, whose 1998 ($20) offers plenty of rich tropical fruit flavors. Finally, just outside Sauternes in the hilly Loupiac district, Chateau Clos-Jean can produce some stylish sweet whites. Its 1998 $15, full bottle) will spark some after-dinner interest.
Remember, though, with none of the budget wines can you expect the complexity, Botrytis effects, and overall luxurious flavors found in a great d’Yquem. If you’re a dedicated wine lover, you must resolve to hoist a glass of its greatness sometime during your earthly tenure.
Bernie Ledermann continues his tasting and consulting assignments for Seaboard Wines of Raleigh, NC. A vigorous 2001 travel schedule to wine-producing areas has taken him to California and the Finger Lakes. This October-November, he will tarry and taste in some of Australia’s noted wine-producing areas.
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