SIDEBAR
Noble Love By Sylvia Jansen, DipWSET, CSW, Sommelier
Ask any wine professional for a list of “noble” vines, and you are likely in for an interesting conversation. Some will say there are as many noble vines as there are noble winemakers or noble grape growers. Some will argue that there exists a preciously short list of seven or so that might include Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Pinot Noir, Syrah/Shiraz, Riesling, Sauvignon Blanc, and Chardonnay. Others will say that omitting Nebbiolo or Sangiovese from the list is wrong. Some will argue that there is no such thing as vine nobility, just terroir— and winemaker— nobility. But what is it to be noble in the first place? That a particular vine makes something great and wonderful? Or conversely, that it must be rare and unusual as well as great? For me, I vote for both great and wonderful, and rare and unusual. A few varieties meet both criteria. Like many other wine lovers, I often celebrate my birthday by opening a nice bottle (or two). My friends and family often celebrate by adding to my cellar. On my last birthday, the gifts included a bottle of Corton-Charlemagne (a specific vineyard site for Chardonnay in central Burgundy, France) from a muchloved producer. As it happens, CortonCharlemagne is also inextricably woven with one of the magical moments that first drew me into a love of wine.
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The unlikely setting was a wine show, and the time was, well, a time long before mobile devices, electronic entry, and Apps for crowd wine reviews. A friend and I had paid the modest entry fee and purchased a strip of old-school tickets that could be exchanged for a taste of wine at the kiosks in the show. Each ticket cost 50 cents, and most wines were one or two tickets. It was only after a few samples (and before I knew the value of spitting) that we came across a wine that cost twelve tickets. At six dollars a taste, the cost was so outrageous that we seriously debated whether to spring for such a treat. Would it be worth it? Why taste something I cannot possibly afford? Finally, my friend and I agreed to share a taste. That totalled six tickets each, at the steep price of three whole dollars. But this taste changed my life. Suddenly, in the midst of a crowded, brightly-lit hall, it was as though the air itself changed. The intensity of the fruit, balanced by an incredible perfume, tingling acidity, honeyed tones, careful oak ageing, a hint of toasty nuts and a hundred other characteristics and nuances filled my palate and impressed themselves so firmly on my being that I felt I had been transported to another dimension where everything was beautiful. The power and elegance of this wine continued to unfold for
minutes, maybe hours. Not only did it pave the way for my eventual entry into the wine industry, but it also made me fall in love with an impossible, often unavailable, but always desirable, wine from a side of an arched sunny slope of Chardonnay vines in central France. Along with a few other vineyard sites in Burgundy, the slope was dubbed a “Grand Cru” (“great growth”), named by monks long ago and still known as CortonCharlemagne. That experience was possible because of the combination of a great vintage, a great place, a good hand from the place of origin to the bottle, and great vines, which are Chardonnay. A noble vine. As for all the other nominees, I know there are some stunning, noble vines, the wines from which have also moved me to tears. However, precious few of these have pulled me into another dimension the way that CortonCharlemagne wines have, more than once. It is a positively unreasonable love affair because this Grand Cru has managed to be priced far beyond the realm of a good Tuesday night wine. But occasionally, it is worth it, and occasionally, I am treated to it. So here’s to you, nobly.
