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April 15th, 2007

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JE T'AIME, CHATEAU D'YQUEM
Last night we had a wonderful dinner at our friends' house, both of whom are very successful antique dealers (I've posted announcements of their wonderful auctions in the past). Both also enjoy sharing rarefied pleasures with friends and guests...

Despite being raised by two people who worked in a liquor store, I'm not by any measure a sommelier or an expert on wine--I'm a bit of a bumbling novice, to be honest. However, I like to think that I can occasionally recognize an exceptional wine when it is en route to my eager little gullet. Although she would demur, I think my wife has a great intuitive sense for wines. However, our friends' tastes in wine are of the first water, well-informed and impeccable. Last night's round, peppery red, for instance, was the perfect complement to a very rare, once-in-a-decade treat of porterhouse steak.

But after dinner came the highlight: I had the pleasure of trying for the first time what is widely held as one of the most exceptional Sauternes to have ever been made: the 1976 Chateau d'Yquem. True to its reputaton, it was without question the best dessert wine I've ever tasted. Most dessert wines--like Astis and Muscats--have a golden color, but the d'Yquem had a rich, rosy caramel hue with a nose to match. The complex, honeyed cream notes clung to the palette like a perfume, and lacked that sharp, syrupy sweetness common with lesser dessert wines. I'm always interested in the lore behind a wine--its terroir--and the circumstances or happenstances that lead to its fruition. In the case of this wine, I was told that the main factor is a mist-fed fungus that eats away the outer skin of the grape which consequently shrivels the rest of the fruit before harvesting.

Our generous host added in an email this morning:

"Chateau d'Yquem, the only first growth Sauterne. We'll try it against another Y'quem that will show a still softer side, at some point in the future. I wait until I get into an old cellar to buy them, more for cellar aging than price, though both are a factor. But it happens with some regularity, and it's always special. As an artist friend once said to me, many years ago, over a '66 (another very good, but not perfect year), 'It makes me feel like a hummingbird.'"

So: has anyone out there had a similarly rare Epicurean revelation?

~W

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