Bordeaux 2011 Primeurs: Margaux
The weather gods were smiling that day; the bright sunshine illuminated the stone work all around me, lighting up the gravel of the path and feeding the vines through their just-budded leaves in the vineyard mere metres away. It was the first week of April 2012, and Bordeaux was enjoying clear skies and bemoaning – after long periods of on-off drought – the continued lack of rain. Despite this it did not feel particularly warm, unlike the spring of 2011 which had been rather more like summer, with a primeurs week of t-shirts and shades (although not quite the sun tan lotion). Nevertheless, warm or not, the vines were certainly responding to the wonderful sunlight, their nascent leaves unfolding. And I was enjoying it too!
I reached the door to which I had been directed and made my way inside, my eyes struggling to adapt from the bright light outside to the much more dimly-lit environment within. It took a second or two, but I soon became aware that I stood at the entranceway to a long and narrow barrel cellar. There, in the all-pervading gloom before me, about one-third of the way down the hall, was a small island of light emanating from a table, chest-height, all metal and glass. On the table stood three or four bottles, and there were naturally a few tasters gathered around it, nosing their just-filled glasses. And then, in the distance, the scene repeated; another table wearing a dim halo of light, this one about two-thirds of the way down the hall. This was a very minimalistic tasting room.
