Written by Matthew Sullivan | 24 January 2011

“Wine critics are not afraid to cry.” That’s what I told myself a few months ago at the Green Living show in Toronto, a busy fair of environmentally friendly products. I was in the wine showcase, sipping Nicolas Joly’s 2008 Coulée de Serrant, a Chenin Blanc from the Loire Valley ($109.95). It was the only wine I’ve ever tasted that made me weep for the sheer beauty of it: the nose was a brocade of ginger, beeswax, crème brûlée crust and wet caramelized apple skin. All these notes reappeared lucidly on the palate, where they were braced in a nutty and herbal structure. In terms of texture and complexity, it was a perfect wine.

Thomas Bachelder, the erstwhile winemaker at Le Clos Jordanne, was standing beside me. “It’s a wine from a bygone era,” he said. “The kind of slight, stable oxidation used in this is rare today, but there was a time when nearly all wine was made this way.” I still had tears in my eyes. I was thinking about the first time I ate a baked apple at the Farmer’s Market. “This will last forever in your cellar,” he continued cheerfully. “Half-open, it will last a long time in your fridge too.” Game face, I thought to myself before turning towards him. Is this how Proust felt when he nibbled on that Madeleine soaked in a spoonful of tea? Did people keep jabbering at him too?

Written by Tony Aspler | 19 January 2011

When Dionysus descends for the final judgment Steven Spurrier will have a lot to answer for. Spurrier, you may recall, initiated the now ubiquitous phenomenon of pitting wines from different regions against each other in a blind tasting competition.

In 1976, he matched California Chardonnays and Cabernet Sauvignons against white Burgundy and red Bordeaux (in both categories Napa Valley triumphed — much to the chagrin of the French experts who participated). The Judgment of Paris, as it grandly came to be known, spawned a rather bad movie in 2008 entitled Bottle Shock.

This form of wine baiting invariably has a marketing agenda. Put your wines up against the acknowledged leaders in the field and see if the experts can rank them higher or at least on par with renowned wines. Another version of this party game is to throw a ringer into a flight of wines from the same region. In Montreal last year, Le Clos Jordanne Chardonnay Claystone Vineyard 2005 was judged best wine in a flight of white Burgundies. This result prompted Bill Redelmeier, proprietor of Southbook Vineyards, to lead a parade of 40 Ontario Chardonnays to London to open the eyes — and the minds — of the British wine press.