The Domaine Ravaut is the ultimate local wine source. For over a century the Ravaut family has cultivated a loyal clientele of friends, neighbors, and local workers — our tasting visits are frequently interrupted by neighbors stocking up their cellars. The domaine continues to sell nearly half its wine to folks who walk in their front door.
When we shape our portfolio, we look for wines that “punch above their weight.” These are wines that exceed expectations based on the price tag and the name on the label. For overperforming white Burgundies, many of our favorites come from the towns of St-Aubin and Santenay.
The Perrachon family has made wine in Juliénas since the 1870s. Perrachon makes the most complex and sophisticated Beaujolais reds we’ve had. Raised carefully in oak barrels, their pure Gamay wines compete with entry level Burgundy Pinots on complexity and value.
The Salomon-Undhof estate dates to 1792, and their terraced vines overlooking the Danube have long been an excellent source. The country’s preeminent wine guide calls them a “figurehead of Austrian wine history.” Their style is what you’d expect from 225 years of history — clean, polished, and refined.
The wine writers’ notes on 2018 reds are full of qualified enthusiasm. The best are said to be ripe, rich, mouthfilling, bold, and delicious — Vinous’s Neal Martin found “a sense of nascent joie-de-vivre” across the vintage. But wines picked too late can be overripe — “very ripe wines of highly variable quality,” concluded Allen Meadows (Burghound).
Chiroubles may occupy the lightweight end of the Cru Beaujolais spectrum, but in a vintage as warm as 2019, that means it offers elusive balance. There’s nothing lightweight about today’s cuvée, which combines bright floral precision with inky, juicy gamay density.
Burgundy is where Chardonnay finds its finest expression. In cold climates, the grape can be acidic and thin; in hot climates, it runs the risk of high alcohol and over extraction. But in Burgundy, Chardonnay has the potential to strike its most elegant balance between soft, mouthfilling fruit, and crisp, refreshing acidity.
Our final Futures issue of the year comes out next week. It includes some of our most popular winemakers — Goubert, Boyer-Martenot, Desvignes, Bardoux and more — but one favorite in particular: the Domaine Michel Gros. His entire lineup of 2018s will be available next Sunday, but today we’re focusing on one wine that is always in short supply.
Ask a group of sommeliers to name their favorite wine region and most will say Burgundy. But ask them for just one favorite grape varietal, and it’s likely Riesling. Aside from its excellent food friendliness, Riesling communicates terroir with as much honesty and precision as any other grape.
New winemakers in Burgundy are hard to come by. It’s a tiny region, and between small harvests, ever increasing demand, and well-established importers, it can seem there’s nothing new to discover.
Syrah is at its finest in the Northern Rhône. Appellations such as Hermitage, Côte Rôtie, and Cornas produce transcendent expressions of the grape, combining darkly beautiful notes of blackberry and plum with spices, minerals, and savory umami notes.
To the uninitiated, Riesling is a cheap, insipid wine — rarely interesting, and never noble. But to those in the know, Riesling can be vibrant, dry, and extraordinarily well priced.
Beaujolais is the source of plenty of uninteresting wines. Fully a third of the region’s production is the Beaujolais Nouveau, a cheap insipid red rushed to market a month after harvest. But the rest of the region contains many highly undervalued wines, some in the same class of top wines from the north of Burgundy.
The 2017 vintage was an unusual one in the Southern Rhône. Most reds here rely on Grenache for a majority (or at least plurality) of their blend, but in 2017 Grenache vines across the region had a bad Spring flowering, and yields were down dramatically.
Maranges is the Côte d’Or’s forgotten appellation. In the past it was known for its unrefined, tannic wines — Burgundians used to call it “le medecin” (the doctor) because some secretly blended it into thinner Côte d’Or reds to bulk up weak vintages.