His hands are trembling notably. This is,
after all, a very special moment, even for one of the most experienced
sommeliers and wine connoisseurs when it comes to old wines. And even if an old
wine, to most people, would be anything from before the turn of the latest century,
Mr Olsson ends his count at 1961. After that, too much changed in the Bordeaux
wine industry and the wines never became quite the same. Although some decent
wines were made in 1966, and I sometimes in our frequent arguments on the matter
faintly try to defend the 1970 vintage.
How many hundreds, or rather thousands, of
bottles of wines from 1961 and earlier Mr Olsson actually has tasted in his
vinous life no one has accounted for. On most of these bottles he has pulled
the cork himself, and a set of tools including an extra-long cork screw
accompany him on the wine dinners he repeatedly has hosted for the last ten
years or so.
The same cork screw inches its way slowly
through the cork. Even though the cork itself is only from the 1980’s, the
bottle is about 250 years older, and fragile.
“Damn…!” he whispers through clenched
teeth. “I just broke a piece of the bottle neck… the bottle in itself is valued
to several hundred euros!” he adds with a wry smile. We, the breathless
audience, waiting to taste the oldest wine we ever been close to trying, are
laughing nervously.
When the first whiff of bottled air ascends
from the opening of the onion shaped bottle, Mr Olsson is quickly there with
his nose and inhales. It is at that moment evident to everyone that he would never become a good poker player. His face wrinkles in confusion and
repulsion.
“Gunpowder…?”
-o-o-o-o-
A few hours earlier, it is an anticipating
small group that gathers at Stockholm’s only truly luxurious hotel: Grand Hotel,
beautifully situated by the water. We are all invited to overview the opening
of the bottles for this nights very special dinner, and it is quite a line-up
parading on the sideboard in the reception room. The oddly shaped bottle with
its rounded body and long neck, partially covered with sea residue of different
and unknown sorts, stands first in line, but is left untouched at this stage.
After meticulously opening the bottles,
finding a defect rioja (a 1929 Marquis de Riscal Reserva; suspected to
be in bad condition even before opening – an exchange bottle is kept ready and
the faulty wine is immediately replaced) and decanting the first wines, we are
served a first glass of champagne (a very good 2006 José Michel Special Club!) and asked to take a seat. Then we
conversate about wine in general and old wine in particular and are told
some of the fantastic stories regarding the bottles on the table. And of
course, about the Vliegend Hert.
The Dutch ship that sank outside the coast of
Holland in 1735 carried a cargo of “wood, building
materials, iron, gunpowder and wine, as well as several chests with gold and
silver coins”, according to wikipedia. A lot of
the shipment was salvaged already the years just after the ship went down, but
when it was rediscovered in 1981 a few undamaged bottles of wines were found. The
ones with best appearance were recorked and auctioned out. And it is one of
those, extremely rare bottles, that finally has found it’s way to a table in
Stockholm. And instead of being drunk in the East Indies by a Dutch merchant
wearing a wig it will be opened by a group of wine enthusiasts, all longing for
the most extraordinary wine experience to be found.
But it’s not only this wine that brings us all
together. Mr Olsson has in close co-operation with the highly skilled team at
Grand Hotel, led by Chef Gabriel Ask
and Head Sommelier Fredrik Lindfors,
prepared an exquisite evening, with food and wine pairings that are impeccable .
How well the courses will meet and complete the wines is particularly difficult
to predict with wines many decades or even centuries old, as they sometimes
behave in unexpected ways. Bearing that in mind, chef Ask performs small miracles
this night.
-o-o-o-o-
We break up from conversation and find our
places around the table. White linen and silver chandeliers complete the scene,
and we are immediately served two different champagnes, ten years apart.
Dom
Perignon 1985 (****) has a dark golden colour and a mature
nose; the mouthfeel is also mature with red apples, nuts, coffee notes and
really good length. Excellent wine, although the 1983 I had a couple of years
ago (yet again at a Mr Olsson-dinner...!) still stands out as the best Dom P I’ve had!
Taittinger
Comtes de Champagne 1995
(****(*)) has a more pale, golden hue and a lovely nose packed with toast, nuts
and white flowers. In the mouth it has both toasted and more fresh tones with
green apples being obvious. Lovely wine!
To this
we are served two lovely cones of caviar; both oscietre and roe. Simple but
delicate!
-o-o-o-o-
After this prelude it is time for the first
crescendo of the evening… The Vliegend
Hert bottle! The only bottle being decanted in front of the seated guests.
Or… not seated for so long when we all bring our attention and our cameras
closer to the decanting table. After the first sniff Mr Olsson clears the
bottle neck of any cork remains and assisted by Mr Lindfors the wine is
decanted through a linen cloth. I can’t help but putting my nose closer to the
process and my nostrils catch a whiff of the wine… It is quite unlike anything
I ever scented before!
If you’d put rotten eggs in a mortar, grinding
them together with pieces of sulphur, adding a touch of seaweed in various
stages of ill-smelling decomposition, you’d might get a hint. A fouler smell
was never to be found in a wine tasting room, putting it short!
Even though we pray to Dionysos that some time
in a carafe might let the wine breathe and resuscitate, we know in our hearts
that this is a wine that’s has walked down a road from which there is no
turning back. It is as dead as can be. Either some sea water has penetrated the
cork, or some bacterial infection has caused the havoc, or both… we guess
around for a while; because … what else to do with our disappointment?
On several occasions during the night we’ve
already touched upon the philosophical questions on whether we were entitled to
drink this wine or not. Why we…? Once we open it, it will be gone from mankind…
A fair question, but my answer was simple: “Well… it will most likely not
benefit from further cellaring.”
I was right.
-o-o-o-o-
The carafe containing what once was a wine is
carried out of the room, not to interfere with any other of the wines ready to
be served. A lovely Zind Humbrecht Clos
Windsbuhl Pinot Gris VT 1989 (***(*)), with cloudberries, yellow fruits and
sweetness; good length and acidity, is being served as the replacement wine
together with the foie gras with cloudberries. A very good pairing, quite
obviously!
-o-o-o-o-
Moving on, it is time for the fish course. A
perfectly cooked piece of monkfish is so exquisite that I totally forget to
catch it on camera. Dish of the night, my book says, without even noting what
it was served with…! Somewhat unexpected
the fish is accompanied by a couple of red wines. The meaty fish will however
show that it is a perfect match with mature burgundies.
Mr Olsson has high expectations on the 1947 Latricieres Chambertin (***(*)) from
negociant Pierre Ponnelle. It has quite
a dark colour for its age and heritage and shows to be quite a mouthful, with a
lot of mature fruits an almost chewy, tannic mouthfeel. I detect a somewhat
burnt note in the aftertaste, which reduces my enthusiasm a bit. Still a good
wine, but not quite the heights we are hoping for.
It turns out, however, that the 1921 Clos de la Roche Grand Cru, Dr Barolet
(*****), steals the flight! This 97-year old wine shows no signs of tiring.
It is clear, transparent, light ruby red in colour, has a lovely, pure,
balanced nose and in the mouth presents a light fruitiness of fresh raspberries
and sunkissed strawberries. The taste is very long and just extremely pleasing.
A grand vin that never weakens in the
glass throughout the night!
Some, however, disagree with me on this being
the top wine of the flight – and for a moment I hesitate. A third wine, not on
the menu, is suddenly produced at the table. 1945 Clos Fourtet (starts at (*****(*)), ends at (****)) makes a
huge impression when served in the third glass; youthful (in a mature way, mind
you!), vibrant, fruity, velvety, dense… but somehow it lacks some stamina. It
loses its immediate freshness over time and turns a bit dull after less than an
hour in the glass, whereas the Barolet seems to live an eternal life. So, to me
it adds up as an outstanding wine turning great. A truly great experience,
however, and one or two actually heralds the Clos Fourtet as the wine of the
night!
-o-o-o-o-
Italia! We move our focus briefly from France
to the other red wine producing country boasting wines fit for a dinner like
this. Yes, we can go on about the odd exceptions here and there (Opus One
1986…) but adding it all up it is Italy that has the centuries of wine-making
experience and tradition to offer wines of enough interest, availability and
maturity to come close to their French counterparts. And most often it is
mature Nebbiolo in the glass on these occasions.
Our chef goes Italian as well and has the
integrity to keeping it simple when no fuss is needed. A creamy truffle risotto
with generous amounts of truffle shavings at the table put us all in the mood
for the two Italian stallions in front of us.
1959 Gaja
Barbaresco (****) – from the legendary producer, before
turning modern – has a clear, transparent, orange-red colour. The nose is quite
mature and has a light mouthfeel with raspberry sweets as a dominant note.
Burgundian in style, but not fully convincing in the tough competition.
I have tried 1947 Barolo Riserva Giacomo Borgogno (*****) at least once before.
At a Borgogno vertical, also conducted by Mr Olsson, the 1947 was in my opinion
barely beaten by the 1943, whereas more talented tasters like my friend the wine-writer
and Madeira-aficionado from Järvsö, preferred the 1947. Tonight, this wine
shines! In my notebook a “wow!” is stated, amongst other superlatives. It is an
exceptional wine that grows and grows, with classic barolo notes of rusty iron
nails, to mention an example.
-o-o-o-o-
Like a carefully conducted firework display,
there are several crescendos during the dinner. And at this stage we’re
approaching the one I maybe, actually, have been looking forward to the most.
The Vliegend Hert was of course the
wine with the most “interesting”-potential, but I never expected it to be an
exceptional wine. Simply because it most likely wasn’t already when put in a
bottle in late 1734 (probably). But the next wine has all the potential of
being great. Or rather stunning. Show-stopping. Life-turning. It has every
possibility of being a disappointment, really.
With an, again, well chosen and prepared dish,
this time of quail with truffles, comes 1995
DRC, Romanee Conti (******!). Yes, the one. The consistently most expensive
wine there is, small quantities, enormous reputation, extremely strict
allocation… and one of the most falsified wines. This is no falsification,
however. The provenance is impeccable, since it has spent its life in the
cellars of Grand Hotel since purchase from the Swedish importer in the
nineties. If I ever thought I’d come across this wine, I never expected it to
be an example with some maturity. At 22 years old this is a wine that has
started to come around but has eternity ahead of it.
The colour is beautifully pomegranate kernels,
and the nose… gigantic. It shoots out from the glass like a volcanic eruption
of fruity perfume and spiced scents. Everlasting. Focused. Sandalwood, spices,
perfume, flowers… And the taste follows; it is bizarre in its intensity while
still balanced. The length seems endless. Trying to identify different flavours
seems pointless; like examining the brush strokes on Mona Lisa. Why dissect
perfection? The complex spicy aromas are simply impossible to separate…!
-o-o-o-o-
An intended clash of two Bordeaux titans are
up next, served with a delicious dry aged sirloin steak with horseradish creme.
The 1982 Chateau Pichon Comtesse de
Lalande (**), a 100 RP wine, is however not at all in the mood. It is not
really TCA (or is it?), but it behaves strangely. Green notes, stems, lack of
fruit, some green peppers… not obviously faulty in my taste, but definitely not
up to it. Should have been much, much better.
1996
Chateau Petrus (***(*)) is in better condition, thankfully,
although not as mind-blowing as one could have hoped. A dense nose, packed with
sweet fruits, somewhat closed; young? Hints of sandalwood. Sweet fruits and
vanilla on the palate. Good, but not great. A little muffled. Could it be a
phase? A tunnel of sorts…? My guess would be that this wine would have given me
more pleasure 10-20 years from now, based on how glorious the 1947 Chateau
Petrus was at a previous dinner by Mr Olsson.
If Comtesse Lalande was faulty or not doesn’t
matter to our host. It does not deliver as expected, and a suitable replacement
wine is already on its way from the Grand Hotel cellars. A 100 RP wine need to be
replaced by another 100 RP wine; such is the logic at these occasions.
1999 Cote Rotie La Mouline, Guigal
(*****(*)), turns up and immediately in the glass shows that it is a serious
contender even at an occasion like this. A great nose with sweet fruity notes,
almost yoghurt-like (think cherry-flavoured yoghurt with elevated levels of jam
and fruits). In the mouth it has an excellent intensity, dense and packed with
fruits but still fresh; some resin and spruce. I can be sensitive when it comes
to these very high-scoring and intense wines, but this still has a very good
balance and doesn’t tip over into the jam jar. Truly great wine, very
impressive!
-o-o-o-o-
We are finally approaching the end on this
nights vinous adventures, but still we have the final crescendo ahead of us.
And what a finale!
First a lovely piece of Almnäs Tegel cheese,
served with quince jam. The Swedish small-scale cheese producers have really
bloomed the last decade or so. Almost anywhere around our long-stretched
country you’ll find well crafted, tasty and exciting cheeses – a visible sign
of the general rise in interest and knowledge of food culture around here.
Together with the cheese we are served an extremely dark-coloured 1937 Ch Lafaurie-Peyraguey (*****)! The
wine literally has the same colour as coca-cola in the carafe - although dark already in bottle we all agree
that it has turned even darker since decanting. The fears that this in any
sense should have hampered the wine are soon put aside; as soon as I take a
sniff I start to smile uncontrollably: the sweet smell of coconut, toffee and
almonds is absolutely pure!
The taste is packed with apricot jam, coconut
flakes (reminds me of my mother’s coconut flake cookies: “kokostoppar”) and
toffee. It has a lovely acidity which gives the wine a backbone and the
sweetness is not as overwhelming as the nose implies. Lovely wine; a real
pleaser! Showing beyond any doubt that 1937 is one of the greatest sauternes
vintages. Michael Broadbent has tasted it on many occasions, noting “drying a
little but still superb” and handing out five stars. Who am I to disagree?
-o-o-o-o-
An over-indulging chocolate dessert, both
beautiful and delicious, is brought to the table, to really fill out any last
remaining space we might have in our stomachs.
And with that, the last wine of
the night. We move again further back in time and share a bottle of 1861 Quinta de Travassos, Moscatel de Jezus
(*****(*)). A wine of Portuguese origin based on the muscat grape. I normally
have difficulties with muscat wines, finding them too flowery, too perfumed,
too ... much. But apparently nothing that 150 + years of ageing can’t cure!
This is a splendid wine, although the grape variety is still very
detectable. On the nose I pick up as
various notes as flowers, liquorice, burnt sugar and pomegranate; when tasted
it evolves mysteriously into a spicy, viscous fruit syrup with a lovely
nuttiness. Sweet and balanced; great acidity! One of my absolute favourite
wines of the night!
-o-o-o-o-
Finally, it all ends as every wine dinner
ends: with a humble thank you to the chef and sommelier team helping us out
throughout our ordeals, and with a turn around the table to cast a vote on the
wine of the night. Not necessarily the best wine, but the wine that has been
most rewarding for each and every one of us. And we contemplate a bit over the
fact that we actually have opened wines from four centuries on one night! Four
centuries of wine… that truly is something!
This night, it is unusually simple, for me as
well as for the majority of the guests to pick a favourite. Although several
wines in their own pride could very well have been chosen as the WOTN on any
other occasion (and indeed Clos Fourtet
and La Mouline got the odd vote…),
when put next to 1995 DRC Romanée Conti they all must bow to nobility.
It is, however, not without a touch of sadness
I admit that this is truly the greatest “modern” wine I’ve ever tasted. This is
a wine that fetches ridiculous amounts of money on auctions. You could buy a
new car for the equivalent of what is paid for one bottle. So, somehow the
question whether it is worth it’s price has to be put. And the reason for my
sadness is that I have to say yes. To me, to us, this night – it was.
I am extremely grateful for having had the
opportunity to taste it and I feel a bit like a hobby mountaineer being invited
to a Mount Everest-expedition. This was in fact a two summit-expedition. We didn’t make
it up the first one, but had a spectacular climbing towards the second, passed
some really wonderful parts along the road and from the peak saw the world with
new eyes.
Thank you.
