And Away We (mar)Gaux - Chateau Margaux 2004
LET ME INTO YOUR HOME
When you’re invited to someone’s home to share a taste of their culture you jump at the offer. Always keep in mind though, there are certain rules that must be followed. First rule is you don’t ask what they are serving. That’s just plain rude man. Besides, you probably won’t recognize what their serving anyway, so don’t take away the suspense and surprise of the moment. Rule number 2, do not disregard anything that is offered; doesn’t matter if you’re convinced you won’t like it. Simply try it, smile accordingly and, if it tastes like death, then politely thank them and dodge that dish like a chunky kid running for his life during a game of dodgeball. Unless of course, you’re deathly allergic to whatever it is they’re offering you. This makes perfect sense but have the courtesy to share that itty bitty little tidbit of information before you arrive. Last thing you want is for them to have put out this monster spread that took hours to prepare only to find out the main element of the dish will send you on a one way ticket to the nearest open cemetery plot… Can you say awkward?
This is where I recently found myself. A couple of friends of mine wanted the wife and I to come over to their home. These fine folks are originally from Macedonia and over several outings (by outings I mean drunken fueled shit shows) with them, we’d found that our cultures were much closer than our geographic provenances. They wanted to cook a traditional Macedonian feast for us and we accepted without hesitation. Rule #1! I’m sorry, did I say feast? I meant a royal fucking treatment filled with at least four courses, I lost count, and an ideal alcoholic pairing for each one to boot. Did I forget to mention my good friend, Goran Boskov, is a Sommelier at Scarpetta in the Fountainebleau Miami Beach? Not trying to name drop or humble brag, but this gives you a sense of the kind of production the Mrs. and I were in store for this lovely evening.
By the time the night was drawing an end, I was a full-bellied, inebriated roly poly, sack of joy all set to cash in my chips and call it a night. Then came the obligatorily polite question of, “Would you like anything else?” I tried to muster my hands, arms and mouth to indicate my contentment and satisfaction. No need to offer anything else to this blob of glee, but then he dropped the proverbial death blow on me, “You sure you wouldn’t like a night cap, I have this beautiful bottle of Bordeaux I know you’d enjoy.” Then he busted out a bottle of Chateau Margaux 2004 and my body began to flail hysterically in excitement like a neophyte popping his first cherry… on the inside. I played it cool and simply said, “If you’d like to open it, I’d be willing to have a glass”. Rule #2! There was no masking my delight, he could see it, even his wife could tell, and there was no hiding from my wife either. She leaned over to me and asked me what was so special about this wine.
TO WHAT DO I OWE THIS HONOR
To tell the story of Chateau Margaux is to tell the story of a region. Like most of the big crus of Bordeaux, it’s a story of meager beginnings, meteoric rise, epic dominance, catastrophic collapse, resurgence and a return to glory. The location of Chateau Margaux has been around since the 12th century. Originally known as "la Mothe de Margaux" (the Margaux Mound), it was not known for wine at the time since it was not a vineyard site yet. It stood out because it sat in an otherwise flat region of the Médoc, a sub-region on the left bank of the Bordeaux. It wasn't until the 1500's when the property was purchased by the Lestonnac Family who restructured the property to the estate we know today. They anticipated the rise of Bordeaux wines, due in part, to the occupation of the Brits in the Aquitaine. "Claret" wines became all the rage in English & Dutch royal courts, but it wasn't the rich, bold wines we know of from the Bordeaux today. Back then they were pale wines with poor aging properties, yet they were still the toast of the town, and Chateau Margaux came to be known as the epitome of the art of winemaking.
The 18th century was known as the Golden Century for Bordeaux wines and the Berlon Family ushered Chateau Margaux into this age. They were the first to vinify red & white grapes separately. They also innovated harvesting techniques & terroir selection for specific grapes to produce the optimal conditions for great wines. During this century, the fame of Chateau Margaux was a booming. The 1771 vintage was the first Claret to appear in Christie’s catalogue. Devoted fans of the chateau included English Prime Ministers and US Ambassadors, such as Thomas Jefferson who ordered cases of the 1784 vintage, but the party was not to last forever. By the end of the 18th century and into the 19th, several factors threatened the prosperity of the Bordeaux wine region. The French Revolution, the Great Recession, brutal winter frosts and the spread of Phylloxera (a microscopic pest which attacks the grapevine roots robbing the plant of nutrients and decaying it from the inside) were all factors that gave Bordeaux a swift kick in the derrière.
During this period, Chateau Margaux changed hands several times and it’s only saving grace was an effort by Napoleon III, known as the Official Classification of 1855, which gave grand cru status (or "great growth") to 58 chateaus. They bestowed the highest honor of Premiere Grand Cru Classé to only four chateaus, Chateau Margaux being one of them. Other hallmarks during this period were the ownership in 1801 of Bertrand Douat, Marquis de la Colonilla. Upon acquiring the estate, he renovated the property in a way that shaped its future until this day. The main house (chateau) was so revered it became known as the "Versailles of the Médoc". He also organized the property to resemble a small city of viticulture with everything needed to produce world class wines, including a tradesmen's yard, cellars, a vat room and a cooperage. Another innovation came in 1924 when the chateau began bottling on the estate which ensured quality and guaranteed authenticity.
The change of owners persisted throughout the 20th century and poor yields led to the development of a second wine label in 1908 known as Pavillon Rouge, but by the 1970's several unsalable vintages left the chateau on the brink of collapse. Salvation came in the unlikeliest of individuals. It was the efforts of a Greek man by the name of André Montzelopoulos to reinvigorate the chateau. He employed world class wine makers to innovate new wine making efforts which put Chateau Margaux right back atop the world of fine wine again. Today, Bordeaux wines have experienced a renaissance. A return to glory that is unprecedented and, right into the middle of this whirlwind of attention, you can find Chateau Margaux holding court. Now it was my chance to taste it in all its majesty.
ELEGANCE NEVER TASTED SO GOOD
To say I was elated at this opportunity would be redundant, but I was. The wine took it’s time to open up to us, as do most heavy duty Bordeaux, but once it did, there was no putting the lid back on. The appearance was a deep magenta purple with dusty rust tinged edges. The aromas screamed of ripe black cherries and simmered plums with earthy, floral spiced undertones, but it was on the palate where the wine truly shined. There was an elegance and finesse displayed by this wine which I had rarely encountered before. I’d always heard of wines from the region of Margaux referred to as, “an iron fist in a velvet glove”, but I didn’t truly understand this reference until now. The power of fruit was explosive; dark berries bouncing off of fresh violets and tangy, peppered spices. The lush, silky richness of the juice invigorated the mouth only to be washed dry by the tannic structure that followed. Balance and preciseness were present.
It drank like a classic Bordeaux, full of elegance and refinement indicative of the prestigious past of this divine selection. I was enamored with the wine and so blessed by the opportunity that I thanked my hosts profusely. By the end, I could only muster up my appreciation by finishing the last sip with an enormous, shit-eating grin that encapsulated everything that needed to be said. The manifestation of admiration was paralleled by all those present which knew this was a moment which needed to be treasured.
