Cabernet franc

Fans of super-ripe, velvety, alcoholic cabernet- and merlot-based wines from California might have a difficult time understanding Chateau Bahans Haut-Brion 2001, a classically spare, lean, highly structured yet sensually appealing red wine that we drank with our usual Christmas Eve dinner of standing rib roast and Yorkshire pudding, roasted potatoes and Brussels sprouts in brown butter, followed by a selection of cheeses and Dow’s Trademark Reserve Porto. Yes, very English in the Old Sense.

Bahans Haut-Brion is the “second” wine of the celebrated Chateau Haut-Brion, the only red wine from Bordeaux’s Graves region admitted to the pantheon of the almost sacred 1855 Classification. Many chateaux in Bordeaux use the second wine concept to divert grapes that might not be of the highest quality into a wine that will be much less expensive (and less great) than the primary product but still reflect the character of the estate. Second wines have been around for a long time; Bahans Haut-Brion has been produced since 1907.

Chateau Haut-Brion is an old property, dating back to the mid 16th Century. English diarist Samuel Pepys was a fan, as was American President Thomas Jefferson. It has been owned since 1935 by the Dillon family, the only Bordeaux First Growth in American hands. The part of Graves where Chateau Haut-Brion stands, now encompassed by the busy suburbs of the city of Bordeaux, was designated Pessac-Leognan in 1987. The vineyards yield about 45 percent cabernet sauvignon, 37 percent merlot and 18 percent cabernet franc. With the 2007 vintage, Bahans Haut-Brion was renamed Le Clarence de Haut-Brion, after the American banker who bought the estate. For some period, Bahans Haut-Brions was sold as a non-vintage wine, a marvelous example of which I tasted in the late 1980s.

I decanted our Christmas Eve bottle of Chateau Bahans Haut-Brion 2001 an hour before dinner, not because of the possibility of sediment — there was none — but because a taste I had tried several weeks earlier indicated some hardness that needed a little airing to soften. By the time we sat down to eat, the wine seemed close to drinkable, though it continued to evolve as several hours passed. At first sniff, the wine offers notes of wheatmeal and walnut shell, cedar and tobacco and a tinge of dried spice and dried red and black currants. Gradually, as moments passed and we sipped and partook of perfectly rosy-rare slices of beef, Bahans Haut-Brion 2001 unfurled hints of violets and lavender, mocha and bitter chocolate, the latter seemingly wrapped around ripe black currants, black raspberries and plums. Even as it opened and became more approachable and enjoyable, though, the wine retained a sense of lithe sinewy muscularity and animation, based on an architecture of dry, dusty tannins, polished oak and profound acidity. The wine did not let us forget that while it was, after all, made from grapes, that fruit found its origin in dirt, subsoil and underlying strata, nor did it neglect, finally, the beguiling, vinous appeal that compelled us to return to the glass. 13 percent alcohol. Typical production of Bahans is 7,500 cases; production of Chateau Haut-Brion itself is about 15,000 cases. Drink through 2012 or ’13. Excellent. Prices on the Internet range, ludicrously, from about $40 to $70. I was fortunate enough to purchase two bottles at the lower end of that spread.

Imported by Diageo Chateau & Estates, New York.

I know that readers hate posts that begin like “So-and-so winery turns out minuscule amounts of …” because it means I’m writing about wines they will never see. Nonetheless, in the interest of comprehensive coverage, I must occasionally bring such producers and their wines to your attention. The hills and dales and byways of California, Washington and Oregon (yes, and many other states in this Great and Shining Union) are filled with small family-owned wineries that hardly ever receive national coverage, and when one contacts me and offers to send me samples of their wares, I usually say, “O.K., let’s see what’s going on.”

One example is Misty Oaks Vineyard in Orgeon’s Umpqua Valley. This appellation in the southern part of the state is formed by the conjunction of three mountain ranges and the Umpqua River, all of which come together to form many distinct little valleys and microclimates. Grapes have been grown in Umpqua Valley since the 1880s, when German immigrants who had worked for Beringe, came north from California. Umpqua is home to 21 wineries.

Steve and Christy Simmons, owners of Misty Oaks, came to Umpqua — which means “thunder water” or “across the waters” — from Alaska. They have 15 acres of vines that range from 300 to 1,000 feet elevation. The red grapes are pinot noir, cabernet franc and malbac, the whites cool climate pinot blanc, pinot gris and gewurztraminer. I recently tried the Pinot Blanc 2008 and Cabernet Franc 2008.


The Misty Oaks Constitution Ridge Pinot Blanc 2008, Umqua Valley, is about as pretty as pinot blanc gets. The color is radiant medium straw-gold. Aromas of lemon balm and lemon curd, delicate peach and pear and a hint of petrol entice the nose, while in the mouth, the wine, which ferments and aged half-and-half in stainless steel and wood, is suave and svelte and displays gratifying balance between soft, almost pillowy ripe lushness and clean, spare elegance. Flavors of lemon and pear with a hint of melon and lightly buttered toast turn smokier and spicier in the glass, and the finish brings in a tinge of lime peel and shale-like minerality. The wine could use a slight jolt of acidity to lend more liveliness, but mainly this is a terrifically appealing pinot blanc. Production was 220 cases. 13.8 percent alcohol. Very Good+. About $16.

The Misty Oaks Jones Road Cabernet Franc 2008, Umqua Valley, captures the dark, spicy, tarry side of the grape. This is very intense, very concentrated, and you have to give a glass of the stuff a little patience to elicit what turn out to be pretty damned heavenly strains of black currants, blackberries and blueberries set against a beguiling background of rhubarb and black olive, bacon fat, dried thyme and a touch of bell pepper. I mean, this is spot-on for an Anjou cabernet franc. In the mouth, you run into some dusty truculent tannins and brooding granite-laced earthiness that a year or two should bring to bay, though the wine’s slowly unfurling black and blue fruit flavors, etched with filigrees of bitter chocolate and potpourri, hold immense promise through 2015 to ’18. Production was 75 cases. 13.9 percent alcohol. May I just say that this is one of the purest examples of a 100 percent cabernet franc wine I have tasted from the West Coast. Excellent. About $28, and I’m sorry, I wish more were available.

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