Blanc de blancs in its many guises

Last week I attended a tasting where I was able to sample through the entire line of Champagnes from Besserat de Bellefon. Present were a brut non-vintage, a blanc de blancs, a rosé, and a 2002 vintage. All the wines were showing quite well, which was mildly surprising (I have always found the cuvées from Besserat pleasant and enjoyable but often lacking in much complexity or finesse), but this day, the blanc de blancs took me off guard just a bit. I managed to return to the table more than once and found the wine both complex and structured with a vibrant varietal character, and while many of its components could have benefited from a touch better integration, this was a sharp cuvée with, in fact, a good amount of finesse. I have carried the wine on my list for some time, as a sort of balance to the louder, much more brash Ruinart Blanc de Blancs (which ironically, I carry in half bottles to the benefit of the same characteristics I personally don't care for in the wine). I wonder if Besserat isn't making some strides forward in house integrity and style (perhaps due to the influence of Monsieur Paillard and the BCC? Like him or not, the man has integrity and style). Regardless of why that wine was tasting so good on that day (and again a few days later when I re-visited a bottle from my own inventory), it got me thinking about the nature of blanc de blancs Champagne. First of all, please do dismiss any other sparkling wines when it comes to this discussion, as 'blanc de blancs' really can mean anything (and thus nothing) anywhere else in the world. In Champagne, blanc de blancs means chardonnay and is a bit of an enigma. It presents itself quite often in the form of the very great wines of the region. Think Salon, Krug Clos du Mesnil, Billecart-Salmon (just tasted the '99 and good god it's good), Taittinger Comtes de Champagne, and yes, I'll put it along side these others, any recent release of Les Chétillons from Pierre Peters. However, just as well, blanc de blancs can show itself in the form of austere, terroir-specific mono-crus and grower champagnes that need many months (or even years) to mellow and flesh out, to blossom and give up their goods. We have noticed this much in the past few years: Agrapart, Gaston Chiquet, Soutiran, Paillard, these blanc de blancs seem to instantaneously bellow with expression and nuance once they reach a certain age, but almost never before when in their awkward youth (I have pulled several from the list when a new disgorgement hits, as they simply aren't all that palatable in their baby stage). So, that then leaves a third category, one unfortunately owned by the bully Ruinart. It is a blanc de blanc ready to go out of the gate. Malolactic fermentation, ripeness, and filtration seem to be issues in their success, but regardless, it is a category occupied by very few. I will watch this Besserat as they seem to be zeroing in on a balance, but I still have my doubts that the category overall isn't one that simply requires a small bit of patience for a good deal of greatness.

By the way, for probably the best pound-for-pound blanc de blancs experience, look to Champagne Delamotte, Salon's supportive younger sister. The wines are often as good as others three times the price. They don't export the non-vintage blanc de blancs, but the vintage is simply a steal. Find it. Buy it.

Surprised by an old Fleur Jeroboam

I had dinner last night with the usual suspects, the Scientists, the Frenchies, and Dr. Mike. Tammy and Brian recently made a trip to Spain and Portugal, which set the evening's theme for food and wine: a few bottles of cava, some red and white, even a little sherry and madeira. Of course, with this group there will always be a bit of Champagne, and in John's typical form, he supplied us with a true rarity. Somehow, he managed to get his hands on a Jeroboam of 1989 Perrier-Jouët Fleur de Champagne. I have never been the biggest fan of this particular wine. It's always approachable and friendly enough and seldom off-putting in any way, but (in recent vintages especially) it fails to measure up to it's status as a tête de cuvée and doesn't seem to do a good job of representing the nuance of vintage character. Like many cuvées presently offered at this level, I suspect that much of it's fame comes from past vintages. 1989 was a very good year, part of a trio of good years at the end of the Eighties. 1988 is a classic in any sense of the word, and 1990 will always be considered one of the greats (even if it didn't quite live up to the longevity that everyone expected). 1989 was more forward, generous. Krug comes to mind as a watermark example of the vintage. It has been quite some time since I have had an '89 from any house though, as most have been long since consumed. I was cautiously optimistic as we opened it, both because it was a Jeroboam and because John seemed very assured of how well the wine had been stored. It was perfect... rich and well-balanced, golden in color with a still lively effervescence, and most importantly there was absolutely no sign of oxidization or tell-tale signs of exposure to heat or light. It was a fine example of a legendary wine living up to its heritage, as well as yet another case made for large format champagne, and (again) most importantly, a fine example of the heights to which old champagnes can reach when they are handled and stored properly.