Dan Fredman PR

2003 Drew Family Winery Morehouse Vineyard Syrah

C'mon, it's Monday night. Nobody pulls out the 1978 Guigal La Landonne or the 1985 DRC La Tâche for a Monday night. This is when you pop the bottle you can't remember where you acquired it from, or maybe the bottle from the off vintage from a producer too good to give to the neighbor who loaned you their lawnmower when yours wouldn't start. Monday night wines are what you drink when you need to drink something with dinner to help you get over the shock of just how much you have to do in the coming week before you can relax over the weekend. With Monday night wines you want a respite from the day (and a slight buzz), not enlightenment and inspiration (and a slight buzz).

The 2003 Drew Family Cellars Morehouse Vineyard Syrah is not your normal Monday night wine. It's the sort of wine that grabs your attention because it tastes entirely unlike anything that in your supreme wisdom of all things enological you might have even deigned to think it would taste like, particularly if you were tasting it blind. If Syrah had been planted in Martha's Vineyard instead of Cabernet Sauvignon, maybe that's what this wine might have been. It's about mint, spearmint, and a touch more mint, with a little bacon fat, dark chocolate, and some black cherry fruit holding things together.

We had this on a cold (well, cold for Malibu) Monday night with a pork roast that had been smoked over grapevines in a Big Green Egg and this all amounted to about as perfect a pairing as you might have imagined, perfect at least until you tried it with the bacon shortbread cookies baked by the chef from Cliff's Edge Café in Silverlake. Now that's a pairing! Monday night has never seemed so monumental either (at least not since BBC America stopped showing "Top Gear" here within six years of the episode's original air date).

The label says this wine is 14.4% alcohol and despite the impression of lush creaminess on the palate, the ultimate sensation is of lightness, balance, and elegance. Not exactly what you'd expect from 1: the vintage, and 2: the vineyard location (freakin' SOLVANG!!!), but there it is. It's not the sort of finish that goes on forever, but it certainly goes on long enough to hammer home the fact that this is way more intriguing than it ought to be. Morehouse Vineyard is a 1.8 acre vineyard just east of Solvang, planted to Durrell and 5C Syrah clones. Jason Drew produced wine from the site for a few years before he and his family decamped northward to Elk, on the coast almost to Fort Bragg. The wines he makes nowadays are a little leaner than this one but equally focused and no less compelling.

Jason Drew has a thing for cool-climate wines, be they Syrah or Pinot Noir. I'm looking forward to the wines he'll make from his estate vineyard in Elk, but the vines (planted in 2011) are still a few years away from maturity. You can get apples from the property now and apple cider too if you're in a hurry. I'm also anxious to taste the Drew Family Albariño. In California, this is one of those varieties that has gone from intense obscurity to seeming almost normal in the course of a decade. There's some stylistic variation in domestic Albariño that seems due more to growing conditions than winemaking approaches, but I think it's in pretty good hands at Drew, given Jason's ability with Pinot Noir and Syrah. 

2004 Scott Paul "Audrey" Pinot Noir

Named in honor of Audrey Hepburn, this wine from Oregon's Willamette Valley has a little bit of fleshiness and a lot of class and style to it. The 2004 Scott Paul Audrey has mellowed a bit with age, even if its winemaker hasn't (well, maybe a little bit). The vintage was problematic, but Scott Wright brought out nuance that the growing conditions might not have led you to expect to experience. 

The most striking thing about the 2004 Audrey at this stage of its development are the aromatics. The term "Burgundian" is way overused by people writing about Pinot Noir, but in this situation the secondary aromatics remind me of (dare I say it?) Burgundy. On the palate there's a little bit of a disconnect; the wine is (as Clive Coates would have said) "rather four square" and is shows a touch of heat (the label lists it at 13.9%) that sticks out when drinking it on its own. But wait, when you drink it with food everything falls right into place and it's pretty glorious. I don't think it's got much more room to improve in the cellar. Whether that's a function of the vintage or of the Stelvin closure doesn't much matter. The wine is plenty enjoyable right now and is unlikely to evolve in a positive direction. According to the winery website, this is the only vintage that they were able to source fruit from Oregon winemaking legend David Lett. 

As for the food, the wine was fantastic with cauliflower soup accompanied by sliced and toasted sourdough bread topped with (1) homemade bell peppers and mozarella and (2), toasted sourdough topped with prosciutto and mozzarella. Both were drizzled with lemon-infused olive oil, and the combination was pretty perfect. The meal was something thrown together over the course of an hour or so but for a Tuesday night casual dinner, the combo of the wine and the food was truly special. 

1998 Kay Brothers Block 6 Shiraz

Back around 1999 or 2000, I was in Australia on my first wine-focused trip to the country. I'd been there a couple of times before producing bands (Sea Stories and The Sunday Kind) and while I did a little bit of wine touring between sessions, it was more a matter of finding some interesting producers whose wines I might have heard of but never tasted. 

This trip was different. I was working for The Grateful Palate by this time and I was accompanying Dan Philips on a tasting trip to visit all of the producers whose wines we were importing. We were in McLaren Vale (in South Australia) toward the end of the trip and at this point were getting a little burned out from the 5-6 producer per day regimen. We'd just been visiting Tony DiLisio (Classic McLaren Wines) and while driving back to Adelaide happened to pass the Kay Brothers Amery sign. "Let's stop here" I said. "These are great wines and I don't think they've got a US importer". I'd been reading about them and had scrounged up a bottle of Block 6 from the mid-80s from who-knows-where and it'd been quite impressive, not only for the wine but for the label that looked like something from a patent medicine tin from the 1800s. 

It was a midweek mid-morning and the place was deserted. We marveled at the scenery (it's set atop a hillside) and gawked at the old winemaking implements on display. After a little while a guy emerged from the warehouse and asked if we'd like to taste some wine. We allowed as to how that might be nice, and he started us out with the Amery Merlot and worked us up through the Basket-pressed Shiraz and on up to the Hillside Shiraz (this was probably the 1999 vintage) and to the Block 6 (likely the 1996 vintage). We liked it a lot, and enquired as to how much we could purchase at one time. Apparently 13 cases was the max he'd sell, and rather than try to buy 13 cases of Block 6, we split things up pretty well among the lineup. At that point, the guy behind the tasting room counter introduced himself as Colin Rayment, the GM of the operation, and we introduced ourselves as importers and we made arrangements to have the wines shipped to our freight forwarder in Port Adelaide. 

The next day we were getting ready to head to the Adelaide Hills when the phone rang. It was Colin, and there'd been a problem with the American Express card. Philips called AMEX and straightened things out and while on the phone to Rayment convinced him to sell us another 13 cases. Thus was the beginning of an importing relationship between the Grateful Palate and Kay Brothers that lasted a number of years. 

The vines in the Block 6 vineyard were planted in 1892 and about a third of the original vines remain today. The 1998 bottling has been a little controversial since its release. Despite great reviews and high scores from all of the major critics, there've been some divergent opinions among the peer-review and wine forum media. I don't know what they were squaking about, because this bottle is in such a good place right now. 

The first sensation is one of spearmint on the nose. This is followed by deep red fruit, raspberry verging on blackberry and blueberry in nature. Pretty decadent, but nicely balance with acidity. Although a massive wine in its youth, it's mellowed out a bit, with tannins haveing been softened to integrate with the fruit and even the fruit being ramped back a touch with time. The heat becomes noticeable as the wine warms up, but if you keep the wine's temperature at cellar temps you'll be able to enjoy all the nuances of the wine without suffering from the heat (which is only about 14.5%).

The 1998 Block 6 is extremely enjoyable, particularly alongside a smoked pork chop similar to the one that accompanied the bottle tonight. The wine is available on the secondary market in the neighborhood of $100. It's money well-spent if you like big wines that have a sense of style to them. 

Cédric Bouchard Inflorescence Blanc de Noirs "Côte de Val Vilaine"

Perfection in a bottle, Cédric Bouchard's Inflorescence Côte de Val Vilaine is ridiculously pure, a fantastic way to ring in the new year. Disgorged in April, 2012, the wine hadn't had enough time to develop any secondary aromatics but it's not as if we were going to complain. The overriding sensation was one of orange zest and green apples. Slight yeastiness was in there too. Made from 100% Pinot Noir, the wine has body but it's so light and beautiful that there's no sense of the weight one would expect from PN. 

Bouchard does all of his farming in the Aude, down in the southern end of the Champagne region. All grapes are grown organically, and all work in the winery is done by hand. Each of his wines are monovarietal, see no chaptalization, no fining, no filtering, no cold-stabilization and are bottled sans dosage. The result is a wine that's oppulent yet well-defined and filigreed. Delightful to drink now but the elevated (but not in a bad way) acidity would seem to give it a pretty good shot at evolving in the cellar for many years to come. At a little under $60/btl, this wine is just about the best Champagne value out there. 

1999 Domaine Tempier Bandol Cuvée Spéciale La Migoua

There was a bit of a stylistic sea-change at Domaine Tempier when François and Jean-Pierre Peyraud retired in 2000, handing the reins over to Daniel Ravier. Although he continues to stick to traditional winemaking methods and to a more-than-just obeisance to terroir, Ravier almost immediately replaced cooperage and anything else that might harbor little beasties that might result in wines that could be considered less-than hygienic. 1999 and 2000 were the last of the old-school wines, and the differences before and after are noticeable. 

Domaine Tempier produces a basic Bandol along with several special cuvée bottlings based on specific vineyards on the property. In general, La Migoua tends to be softer and more accessible younger than La Tourtine, which itself is a little more approachable young than Cabassaou (from a subsection of Tourtine). I haven't had the 1999 Tourtine in quite awhile, but this 1999 La Migoua was shining this time around. Lots of brett though, so if you like your wines squeaky clean, you'd have gone running for the barn door when the cork came out of this bottle. It had the full-on wooly and metallic funkiness that one associates with brettanomyces but I sure did like it anyway. There was such a depth of complexity to it that these "flaws" became part of the whole wine. It particularly came together alongside a plate of Spaghetti Carbonara (exceptional recipe here)  made with free range eggs and Neuske's bacon. The wine bridged the gap between the flavors (don't forget about the Parmesan and Reggiano cheeses)

 

La Migoua is comprised of about 65% Mourvèdre, with most of the rest being Grenache. However, there's a good chunk of Cinsault planted in the south-facing side of the vineyard in a section known as "La Louffe". In 1987 and 1988 there was a Cuvée Speciale produced  under the "La Louffe" designation but it was decided that the Migoua bottling suffered from the loss of that fruit and the La Louffe bottling was discontinued. Subsequent vintages of Migoua since Daniel took over the winemaking are even more lush than the Peyraud-era wines; they have the same tautness underlying the fruit, but although the new wines have the same aging potential as those of the previous regime, they aren't quite as earthy and animalistic. Where the pre-2000 vintage wines virtually demand a couple of decades in the cellar to achieve anything close to maturity, more recent vintages are plenty enjoyable after 5-10 years in the cellar. I enjoy both styles but am very anxious to see how the Ravier wines do after 20+ years in the cellar. I think they'll be just fine - Ravier has turned out to be the perfect steward for the Tempier/Peyraud legacy. 

 

 

2010 Jean-Claude Lapalu Brouilly, "La Croix des Rameaux"

A few days ago I noticed a tweet from @CraigCamp that I interpreted as inferring something along the lines of "brett and VA are flaws and should never appear in a wine". I may have taken this statement out of context but that didn't prevent me from replying anyway, with something along the lines of "context is everything and some of my favorite wines would be considered "flawed" but for the fact that they're made in a style considered typical for the appellation and that well, they just taste good. 

Personally, I like wines that have such "flaws", just as I'd rather see a Fellini film with all of his goofy-looking people rather than some modern-day vampire movie with all of the beautiful (albeit playing dead) young stars and startlets. Whatever...give me wine that's about character and sense of place and I'll be happy. A wine such as tonight's 2010 Jean-Claude Lapalu's Brouilly "La Croix des Rameaux". 

I'ts not exactly brett-ridden, but a few seconds after opening a familiar pleasant animal funk wafts up from the glass, perfectly framing the blueberry/cranberry aromas that define Brouilly. On the palate, it's alive with all the wonderful vivacity one expects in Cru Beajolais. There was a soft, floral/grapey character on the mid-palate.The finish is just a tad clipped, although not at all metalic. 

And this is where context is all-important. On its own, the wine was easy to disassemble and criticize for its flaws, but alongside a couple of lamb chops, everything fell into place. The rustic nature of the wine lent itself to the earthiness of the lamb, and the brett enhanced the flavor of the char on the meat. It was a Thursday night dinner and we weren't expecting greatness, but the wine (flaws and all) certainly enhanced the overall experience. 

While I'll agree that excessive brett and VA can be wine killers (I've had some bottles of 1988 Vieux Telegraphe Chateauneuf-du-Pape that almost required a call to the CDC to send their toxic waste removal team), for the most part I feel that a little bit enhances certain wines, particularly when consumed in conjunction with the right sort of food. I think that these wines are becoming more rare in these days of improved wine lab work, but it's good to see that the funk hasn't been wrung out of everything.

This wine seemed young. For now, it's tasting just about right to me.- it'll be interesting to taste it again in a few years to see if it blossoms in the bad way or in the good way. 

1999 Robert Denogent Poully Fuissé "La Croix" Vieilles Vignes

Ho-hum, just another Chardonnay. Okay, maybe not....

This came from a case I'd sold to a client back in the last century when I worked for Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant in Berkeley. Domaine Robert Denogent was what we sold people when they wanted Raveneau but didn't want to take a chance with Savary. I guess their rationale was that if they couldn't get the best producer in Chablis, they might as well buy the best producer in Macon (even though the Savary wines were pretty amazing). 

Having grown up during the 1970s, when I'd hear the name "Poully-Fuissé", I'd immediately think of fern bars and aspirationally-swanky hipsters who'd croon the words "poooolie fyoosay" in a thick, wannabe Peter Sellars continental accent with the hope that it'd impress the stewardess they were trying to pick up. By the time I hit the wine biz in the 1980s the old time wine salesmen would call it "fussy pussy", probably harkening back to the days when they were chasing after stewardesses.

Anyhow, it's safe to say that Domaine Robert Denogent defines the anti-70s Chardonnay with this bottling, and that at this stage of its development it'd serve as an ideal stand-in for a mid-level Chablis. Although winemaker Jean-Jacques Robert's methodology is to age the wine for two winters (15-18 months) in oak, there is no wood discernable on the palate but plenty of creamy goodness. The acid/fruit balance has resolved and integrated and the wine is ideal for pairing with scrambled eggs and freshly-picked herbs. 

I can't help but think that the ABC folks would rethink their aversion to the variety if they had the opportunity to experience a properly aged bottle of a wine such as this. 

2004 André-Michel Brégeon Muscadet de Sèvre-et-Maine Sur Lie Reserve

André-Michel Brégeon has been one of the mainstays of the Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant portfolio as long as I can remember. Although Muscadet may well be the least-respected wine in the Loire Valley (if not all of France) I find myself reaching for wines from Brégeon, Marc Ollivier's Domaine de la Pépière, Luneau-Papin, Metaireau, etc far more often than anything else. They offer tremendous value for the money (entry level wines are all <$20) but also because they drink consistently good. Vintage variation is sometimes a factor but even when growing conditions aren't optimal (2010 is a good example of this), enjoyable wines are produced that are perfect for immediate drinking. In better vintages it's totally appropriate to toss a few bottles in the cellar for a decade or more - the wines evolve much like Chablis, broadening out on the palate and gaining aromatic complexity and depth. 

As discerning drinkers discover the glory of Muscadet, single vineyard and reserve bottlings are appearing on the market. That's what this wine is about. Recent tastings of 2004 Muscadets from several different producers have made me a big fan of this vintage in the Nantais. A steely persistence of palate sensations marks these wines for me; the fruit is nicely integrated into the wine's structure and makes for quite an enjoyable drinking experience. The consistency is remarkable not only in the lower-level or single vineyard wines that were released shortly after the vintage, but in some of the Reserve bottlings that spent time on their lees prior to bottling. That is the situation with this wine. 

The Brégeon Reserve Muscadet is distinguished from the regular Brégeon Muscadet bottling by its white label and Burgundian-shaped bottle. At $28, it sells for about twice the release price of the regular bottling, but offers so much more in the glass. Made from Melon vines averaging about 40-50  years of age, the relative neutrality of this grape variety is enhanced by aging on its lees in glass tanks before bottling. The Reserve spends almost 7 1/2 years on its lees before bottling and the result is inspiring.

The wine is definitely richer on the palate, with flavors that are clean and crisp yet offering an elegant texture missing in the earlier bottling. The Reserve takes a little time to hit its stride but given a little air (in the glass or in a decanter if you're so inclined) it blossoms, becoming like some sort of über-Muscadet. We opened a bottle on Christmas Eve alongside a huge platter of Kumomoto Oysters and the match was perfect. Playing around with the oyster accompaniments, it seemed like the oysters with a touch of Malcon sea salt and a little ground coriander created the perfect symbiotic relationship at the table. 

The 2004 Brégeon Reserve is nowhere near its peak of perfection, although it's drinking pretty damn good now. It's worth tracking some down to stash away. I bought mine at K&L Wines although Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant in Berkeley may also still have some in stock. 

1985 Illuminati 'Nico' Montepulciano d'Abruzzo

Illuminati was one of the first producers I was introduced to from Abruzzo when I was first getting into wine. They were described to me as "forward thinking traditionalists". Nico is Dino Illuminati's tribute to Nico Illuminati, founder of the winery. It's 100% Montepulciano, usually harvested in October and left to dry on trellises before pressing and fermentation (a similar passito technique is used in Valpolicella to the north). It spends about 30 months in large Slavonian oak casks before bottling, whereupon it's aged further before release.

The wine is very rich and full-bodied on release and as I recall, was pretty wild stuff. 27 years after harvest, the wine has mellowed considerably, but you wouldn't mistake it for Bordeaux, Burgundy, or Barolo. It's got a sauvage characteristic that I equate with the Montepulciano variety that I otherwise find mainly in wines from Umbria (Sagrantino and blends that include Montepulciano in them). There was a delicacy lurking beneath the wine's surface turmoil and with air the wine gained body and grew silky on the palate. It was served among some formidable company at the table yet it more than held its own.

I suppose that here is where I should put in the obligitory warning about how easy it is to confuse Montepulciano (the grape) with "Vino Nobile de Montepulciano" (a wine). The former is the name of the grape variety native to Abruzzo, while the latter is a wine produced in a village not far from Montalcino in Tuscany. It's made not from Montepulciano but from Prugnolo Gentile, a variant of Sangiovese. Now, I like the Tuscan wine as much as the next guy (unless you're Anthony Giglio, who likes it a LOT) but to be honest my preference is for Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. 

And even just settling for Montepulciano d'Abruzzo can be a minefield, seeing as how there seem to be two distinctly different styles of wine produced there, albeit from the same grape. Most of what's seen here in the USA is the softer, kinder, gentler style of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. It's inexpensive and offends nobody. It's usually a good value in its price range.
The "other" style is a lot bolder, richer, and more world-class (as it were) and for the most part benefits from aging. In addition to Illuminati, I'd heartily recommend spending the big bucks and trying wine from producers such as Emidio Pepe, Cataldi Madonna, and above all Valentini (you may need to mortgage your house for that one). These are not wines you pop and pour, but wines that invariably require opening and decanting hours ahead of when you plan to drink them. The 1975 Pepe shown above reminded me of stepping into a nail salon for the first day it was opened. I'm okay with volatile acidity but this was pushing even my envelope. It smoothed out over a couple of days and turned out to be monumental, but you kind of have to believe in it.  

These big Montepulciano d'Abruzzo wines are some of the most thought-provoking and inspiring wines out there, but patience is definitely a virtue when it comes to deciding when to enjoy them. The 1985 Illuminati Nico was at the peak of maturity, but it was in no danger of sliding over the edge into undrinkability. 

I believe that this bottle was among the Italian wines I picked up from Roberto Rogness in his pre-Wine Expo days when I traded in a couple of cases of Bordeaux for twice as many cases of great Italian wine from the mid-late 1980s. This wine had a $35 price tag on it, so it wasn't exactly inexpensive even then, but it turned out to be a heck of a bargain considering how well it's drinking now. 

Chateau Musar Tasting with Serge Hochar, Terroni, Oct 18th, 2012

Lebanon is roughly at the same parallel as Los Angeles and its altitude is just about the same as the Rhône Valley. For centuries its been an ideal place to grow grapes (the occasional wartime bombing to the contrary). Although there's a lengthy tradition of winemaking in the country, as far as anyone in the USA is concerned, the only Lebanese wine we've seen with any regularity are those from Chateau Musar.

Serge Hochar of Chateau Musar passed through Los Angeles recently and Chris Lavin was kind enough to invite me to one of the tastings Serge was hosting. The wine room at Terroni was an ideal setting to take an in-depth look at some of the planet’s most interesting (and controversial) wines.

Chateau Musar Winemaker Serge Hochar

Hochar is part sage and part winemaker, the sort of person exuding a grounded-in-reality Zenlike presence. About as quotable as anyone this side of Randall Grahm, his approach to life is like his approach to wine – note the details but work with, around, and through them, all based on what’s necessary to get by and create something. There's an intensity to him that's rounded off by a gentle acceptance of (and approach to) life

He began the morning by telling us that “the art of communication begins with wine. Wine is the miracle of life; it makes itself, and through that I’ve made miracles.” He didn’t answer questions from the attendees so much as he engaged us in conversation, forcing us to rethink what we thought we already knew. I cannot recall any similar tastings where there was so much back-and-forth discussion. It was a nice change from the usual guided tastings that are handled as if they were lectures.

Most of the people in the room had had some previous experience with Musar, and the general consensus was that the wines are identifiable because they have high levels of VA and are oxidized to a certain extent – flaws according to most wine experts. This is one of those wineries where context is incredibly important to the appreciation of the wines, and this focused tasting was the perfect place to discover the essence of Hochar's work.

Says Serge: “We are born with oxidation, we must not fight it. Oxygen is part of life.” He continued: “I studied enology in Bordeaux and they taught me millions of things. I believed very little of it. Maturity is in itself a form of oxidation. I use it as a tool to make my wines better. When you control something, you miss other things, so I don’t bother controlling it much, I pay attention to what the wines want to do.”

These wines change in the glass perhaps more than any other wine I’ve tasted. The 1983 Musar Rouge is a brilliant example; when poured, my initial impression was that it was corked. However, a quick couple of swirls of the glass served to relieve the scourge. This was an exceptional vintage in Lebanon and the wine displayed an elevated level of acidity that should give it almost endless aging potential. The situation was very similar to that of the 1986 Chateau Beaucastel Roussanne Vieilles Vignes that was poured at Hospice du Rhône several years ago. Out of 36 bottles provided, the general consensus was that at least 20 of them were corked. The winemaker disagreed and suggested vigorous aeration. After about four hours he was proven correct and the wines were quite glorious (unfortunately, the seminar had ended two hours previously). Fortunately, the 1983 Musar took to the air quite rapidly and it served as a perfect demonstration of not always following your first impression of a wine. 

Hochar recommends at least 15 years aging in the cellar for all of his wines, as they take that long to show their true character. The 1975 grew extremely complex as it unveiled itself in the glass, with my notes reflecting meat, coffee/caramel and even lanolin and mint on its huge finish. Its hue was brighter than the 1983 and other than its overall evolution to a higher plateau in the cellar, it seemed like a youngster, with lots more aging potential ahead of it.

As Hochar told us, “you are changing more than the wine” when you think about what you’re drinking. It’s important to trust your own instincts. “Wine is a companion that will never betray you” he says. “Wine is always your friend. Find one you like and get to know it.”  

Jared Hooper and Taylor Parsons

The Chateau Musar white wines were even more fascinating to me than the reds. Grown on ungrafted vines that are around 150-180 years of age (talk about Old World!), the Merwah and Obedideh grapes would be equally at home in the Rhône Valley or in Bordeaux in terms of their flavor profiles. The 1989 and the 1975 were my favorites, although the 2005 and 1998 were wonderful on their own terms. It’s just that these are wines that really need the extra time to mature, and even at 14-15 years of age they’re only just giving the drinker a glimpse of what they’ll become.

The 1989 reminded me (a LOT) of Ygrec, Chateau d’Yquem’s dry white. It had the requisite VA and was almost sherry-like on the palate, but the brilliant acid structure combined with the underlying fruit to turn it into a thrilling tasting experience (similar to dry Sauternes or even Kalin Semillon from California). The 1975 was a whole other level of complexity, adding white pepper to the equation. Each sip was different, one revealing tropical fruit, the next spicy, then to sherry…it was deliciously complex, a wine difficult to describe but intriguing and compelling to taste. The finish seemed to last forever, and it was impossible to return to the other whites after focusing on this one.  Importer Bartholomew Broadbent and Serge Hochar

Winemaking in Lebanon has not been an easy avocation over the years. There have been times when the conflict has been so dangerous that Hochar has sent his family to live in Paris while he remained in Beirut to make the wines. “There’s lots of talk about the situation in Lebanon, but the country could be on fire and the whole world doesn’t care.” He doesn’t dwell on the hardships he endured to produce the Chateau Musar wines during the war years; he prefers to think about how he was able to keep his extended family (the workers) at the winery employed and safe through the war. 

In a perfect world I'd have a cellar filled with wine from a bunch of different vintages of Chateau Musar. If I'd only "known then what I know now", this might have been a possibility; the wines have been underpriced until recently, but they're still bargains compared to anything comparable (granted, such a list of comparable wines would be limited to producers such as Valentini, Lopez de Heredia, Chateau Simone, and other wines I view as savory rather than sweet). It was as rewarding, educational, and thought-provoking of a tasting as I've experienced in recent memory. It was an honor to spend a little time with Serge Hochar, and I anticipate spending more time with his wine in the future.