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Bordeaux 2010: Pomerol

It is a Friday afternoon in April, 2010. Alexandre showed the last of the visitors out of the cellar, and closed the door of polished wood behind them. They were the last of his scheduled appointments for the week, and that meant, for Alexandre, it was the end of the 2009 primeurs week. It had been a fine few days of tastings; Alexandre always felt comfortable when the wine was this good. Sure, the blend was a little different, being only 8% Cabernet Franc, much less than the usual 25%, the rest mostly Merlot plus a little Cabernet Sauvignon. Some people had been a little uneasy about the Merlot dominance, he could tell, but on the whole the feedback had been positive. He had enjoyed regaling the fleeting crowds as they tasted, a chance to display his knowledge of old Pomerol vintages, a knowledge unparalleled within the appellation. "This is just like the 1950", he had told that party of posh Brits. Genius! They lapped it up! Problem was, how could he top it next year, when they return to taste the 2010?

It is a Wednesday morning in July, 1952. The gleaming silver DeLorean thudded to a halt outside the cellars at Vieux Château Certan, flames licking around the smouldering tyres, feathery plumes of smoke enveloping the car before quickly evaporating to reveal the machine, complete with nuclear-powered flux capacitor, in all its radiant glory. The gull-wing doors swung upwards, and from the right-hand side emerged Dr Emmett Brown, unmistakeable thanks to his threadbare laboratory coat, the mad wisps of white hair atop his head, and his ever-so-slightly crazed facies. From the left-hand side clambered a less familiar sight, a slim figure who slowly straightened out to reveal a stature at least six feet tall. He wore a baseball cap, and sleeveless red puffer jacket. Not so much Michael J. Fox, more Alexandre J. Thienpont (I'm not sure what Alexandre's middle name might be, but it could be Jacques or Jean - cut me some slack here). It takes only a second or two for the vigneron to orientate himself before he sprints forward and darts behind a familiar polished wooden door. A moment later he emerges, his arms cradling at least half a dozen bottles. One or two fall on the way, but he tosses what he has kept hold of into the car and, within moments, the time-travelling twosome have accelerated to 88 mph, and together they head....back to the future.

Back to Vieux Château Certan

It is a Tuesday afternoon in April, 2011. Alexandre watched the posh Brits sauntering down the gravel driveway, before welcoming them across the threshold, holding back the polished wooden door as he did so. Handshakes all round. With a glint in his eye he showed them over to the tasting area, nothing more formal than a few upended barrels gathered in the centre of the cellar. A mix of clean and dirty glasses sat on one barrel, a couple of bottles on another. He eyed them up and down as they busied themselves, opening laptops and notebooks, selecting their glasses from those on the barrel that were dreg-free. That one from Edinburgh has put on a bit of weight, he thought to himself - too much of that foie gras of the vintage from Troplong-Mondot he suspected (quite rightly). Still, he conceded to himself, that wasn't his concern. It was time to pour the wine.

He stepped forward and silence fell across the group. "Ladies and gentlemen", he announced, "this is Vieux Château Certan 1950".

Clearly there are some parts of this tale I can not independently verify, but those events that happened in my presence are true and occurred as I described them. Alexandre did liken the 2009 to the fabled 1950 last year (to be honest I had forgotten that, but a review of my report on 2009 St Emilion reminded me). Whereas this year he was rather more bold. The 2010 is the 1950, he asserted. We cannot dismiss this confident if rather preternatural statement; as I allude above, Alexandre Thienpont does have a encyclopaedic knowledge of older vintages.

It is easy to focus on Petrus in Pomerol, an all-too-obvious starting point, but in this vintage it is Vieux Château Certan that deserves this accolade. Like the 2009 the 2010 is another Merlot-dominant blend, with again just 8% Cabernet Franc, 6% Cabernet Sauvignon and 86% Merlot. The old-vine Cabernet Franc did not cope well in the drought, says Alexandre, although he was at a loss to explain this (accepted wisdom being that older vines with more extensive root systems cope better in dry periods), hence their being less Cabernet Franc than usual in the blend. Thus in these two vintages the blend of raw materials can be considered atypical for the domaine, 25% being more the norm only a few years ago. The alcohol is on a par with the other big right-bankers, such as Petrus and Cheval Blanc (although it is some way behind Troplong-Mondot's 15.5+%) at a 'mere' 14.5% and the IPT rolls in at a concentrated 90. More important than too-detailed analysis of the numbers though, is the question: how does it taste?

You might think I can proffer no such similes or metaphors to match those of Alexandre, but I do have one that spontaneously came to mind as we tasted which I will disclose. As I held the wine in my mouth, it displayed such purity of damson fruit, paradoxically entwined with such seamless and effortless substance, that I was immediately reminded of tasting the 2006 Le Pin from barrel, circa April 2008. If you had tasted 2006 Le Pin with me on that day, you would know that is a great compliment. And it is well deserved I think. I might not have tasted every vintage of Vieux Château Certain back to the Sertans of the 1780s, but I have tasted a decent handful. And this is the greatest wine from this estate I have ever tasted, hence it's lofty position in my 2010 top ten, in fourth place behind Latour. That decision was something of a toss up, and it might have easily ended up in third place leaving just Margaux and Ausone ahead. What more can I say than this? (29/4/11)