Bordeaux 2023 Primeurs: Margaux
“It feels different this year,” opined Taylor Swift.
Now, in case you have just landed on this page from somewhere other than my other Bordeaux 2023 tasting reports, note I don’t mean the real Taylor Swift.
Because, I mean, that would be ridiculous.
The very thought that, while other wine critics are busy beavering about Bordeaux in solitude or with their favourite chauffeur for hire, I would be swanning about calling in on the likes of Château Margaux and Château Palmer with a mega-popstar would stretch your sense of credulity to breaking point. You would know straight away that I was making it all up. A pipedream. A Bordeaux fantasy (a phrase which could also be applied to one or two of the release prices we have seen thus far in this vintage).
So let me be clear. This isn’t the real Taylor Swift.
No, this is a primeurs spirit guide who has been manifested in the form of Taylor Swift, sent to help me through the challenge of two weeks of tastings. Much more credible, I hope you will agree. All arranged and paid for, I should point out, by the Union des Grands Cru de Bordeaux. Which means, yes, I will have to add some declaration about this benefit to my disclosures statement. After all, I’m not paying for her. And I am hoping she will cough up for half the fuel bill at the end (fingers crossed, but strong sales for The Tortured Poets Department gives me cause for hope).
So now we have that cleared up, let me continue.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” she replied, “it’s not just that I am ashamed to be seen with you in this Suzuki tin box you have rented, although that’s undeniable, especially when I saw one critic leave earlier in their rented high-performance BMW M3 Twin Power Turbo which puts out 550 bhp and which actually has enough room to stretch out in the back. Nor is it the fact that my favourite critic – I will leave you to guess who – has holed up in a luxurious St Emilion château where he has all the samples delivered to him which he tastes between impromptu games of tennis and the occasional lap of the estate’s private pool. Now that’s a primeurs trip that doesn’t suck. Unlike yours.”
“I see,” I replied, not really sure if I should feel reassured or insulted.
