Charming, to say the least

I survived my post-harvest depression, and now am even filled with anticipation and excitement when I see the 2011 baby wines all cozied up in barrels throughout the cellars of Burgundy.  However, I never thought mere tasting experiences could evoke that similar melancholic nostalgia.  What brought on my most recent episode of post-dégustation depression?  Ironically, the incredible honor of tasting a vertical of Charmes Chambertin chez Denis Bachelet.

20 bottles, with ever-increasing coatings of gnarly black cellar mold, lined Denis’ table: from 2006 dating back to the year before my birth.  The mood was subdued, in respect of the incredible wines that lay before us, and yet joyful as fellow winemakers couldn’t help but smile and be moved by such beautiful expressions from years past.  And while remaining loyal to its profound terroir, each vintage was surprisingly unique.  Some fresh and still full of fruit, some displaying pleasant undergrowth and woodsy notes, and yet others with hints of dark cocoa and roasted nuts.

Fellow charmed tasters surround the table.

After thanking Denis (and nearly bowing down to kiss his talented vigneron feet), I walked out of the dark cellar and into a beautiful and rare December Burgundy sunshine.  And I felt very strange.  His wines have always been very emotional for me.  I must have been kidding myself to think I could handle such a soulful lineup and then return to the workday as normal.  How does one return to present day after taking such a sensory-liberating leap back into the past?  Does life go on after your soul has been charmed by the Charmes of the even-more-charming Denis?

Stepping back in time, sip by sip...

I wonder if I will ever get used to such life-changing experiences, which seem to come and go surprisingly frequently here in Burgundy.  I don’t know how the others do it.   The journalists who know every vintage of each great domaine’s most prestigious wines.  The sommeliers at top restaurants whose hands grace across so many mind-blowing bottles in an average night.  Those in the “biz” who come for a week, pack in as many tastings as their livers can handle and jet off again.  I admire such stamina, and yet I prefer to discover this passionate region by unfolding its complexity slowly and sensually, savoring each sip and sharing it with others.

And that’s what is so beautiful about wine.  It is meant to be shared, and there is nothing like the sharing of a special bottle to appreciate the moment and put everything back into perspective.  Like cheers-ing Denis’ son while tasting an evolved salted almond toffee version of the 1988 Charmes, from the year of his birth.