It’s fascinating to see the way two St Estephe properties,
both wonderful in their own way, have taken different
directions.
I tasted Cos d’Estournel and Calon Segur 2014 during en
primeur last month and was mystified by one and delighted by the other.
I have always loved getting up into the St Estephe badlands
and seeing the warm yellow stone of Calon Segur. There was always something
otherworldly about it – the great
draughty orangery with its stone fireplace was empty of all furniture
apart from an oak table, with the courteous winemaker Vincent Millet standing
behind it.
The chateau and the outbuildings were always deserted (I
never seemed to go there but at dusk), the whole place in a state of elegant
decay.
And the wine. There is a reason Calon is held in such esteem
by the British trade. It has always been luscious and opulent but also was the
most classic, restrained, delicate and fresh of the St Estephes. It made Phelan Segur down the road look brash and rustic, Cos positively meretricious (but more of
that later).
Calon was bought two years ago by an insurance company, Suravenir
(for €200m, my friend Jane Anson reported on Decanter.com). It's lost no time
in sprucing up the property.
Calon-Segur - the new tasting room... |
There’s central heating – tropical – and bits of artiness, bottles
sitting atop perspex plinths, and a large oil (a shiny copy) of the founder,
the Marquis of Segur, looking as if he too thinks things have taken a turn for the
worse.
A new tasting room has been carved out of the great reception
room. There are
fiddly lamps festooned with
fake-industrial wiring, lots of steel and glass furniture, pointless louvres on the windows and other bits of tat. It all
looks very expensive and busy and has all the character and tastefulness of a big city Sheraton.
...and the old |
Calon 2014’s got all this. It’s powerful and ripe and
modern, meaty and juicy, with fine fresh
juice to the mid palate. But it contains 19% merlot in year when merlot is
bursting with fruit, and that gives it its international, ripe red fruit
sheen. Just like the chateau, all the character’s been sucked out of the wine.
Vincent Millet’s explanation: We had to put it in, he said,
because it was excellent and low in alcohol, so it wouldn’t dominate. He said he and their
consultant Eric Boissenot “had a feeling
that this was going to be a great year for Calon.”
Lots of people agree. James Lawther MW liked it and reminded
me you have to be careful with primeurs. The way a wine tastes depends on the
time of day you go, on your mood, and the dynamic of the group you’re with.
“And nowadays you can tweet your opinion of a wine and it’s gone around the world
in ten minutes.”
How much input would the company have had? One of my fellow tasters has worked with
producers who have been taken over by big finance corporations and he said
there’s normally a good deal of interference. “They love to come down and do
some tasting, have a bit of input into
the blend, feel as if they’re making a difference. It’s like owning a
football team or newspaper.” They are also – of course – very keen on profitability.
Mme Gasqueton, the redoubtable former owner, may have had very different ideas
as to what constituted a healthy bottom line.
Cos goes the other way
...right to blow its own trumpet: Cos d'Estournel (pic Panos Kakaviatos) |
(* JGP is working for LVMH and getting very excited about an extraordinary project on the China-Tibet border - see my article on Wine-Searcher, and Jane Anson's very complete blog on Decanter.com. She went there - I didn't)
“Calon’s always behind the curve,” one of my companions
said. “Now it’s gone all international and fruity when everyone else is looking
for restraint. And Cos is going the other way.”
And if you mention Michel Rolland just once more, I'll scream and scream until I'm sick
And if you mention Michel Rolland just once more, I'll scream and scream until I'm sick
Sad, isn’t it? It reminds me of poor old Figeac and the way
they hired Michel Rolland just as Robert Parker retires. You’ll remember that Eric d’Aramon
disliked Parker so much that he set the dogs on him whenever he turned up for a
tasting. Then Mme Manoncourt, after sacking her son-in-law (want a tip? Never marry
the boss’s daughter), was on the phone to Rolland before you could say “microxygenation”,
because as everybody knows he and Parker are thick as thieves, and a few 98-pointers would be a certain path to Grand Cru Classe 'A' status. But as soon as the consultant's signed up at €5000-plus a day, Parker hands over to Neal Martin and Mme
Manoncourt looks pretty damn silly.
Anyway I asked the energetic winemaker there, Frederic Faye,
a casual question about Rolland and his input (he’s quoted prominently in the 2014
blurb, and Faye isn’t). “Let’s get this straight,” he said, “I’m the winemaker.
Michel is just a consultant.” “So how often does he come?” “Hardly at all, once
or twice a month, maybe less, I don't know, it's not important.” “But he helps with the blend?” “No, he doesn't 'help' with anything. I do the blend. He just
advises.”
It was all very painful. I just couldn’t bear to ask my next question, which was, if Rolland is so unimportant to Figeac, why put his name all over the brochure? Indeed, why employ him at all? After all, there are many properities which manage without him.
It was all very painful. I just couldn’t bear to ask my next question, which was, if Rolland is so unimportant to Figeac, why put his name all over the brochure? Indeed, why employ him at all? After all, there are many properities which manage without him.
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