Diane (Long Island) wrote:My 1 experience is with the 2000, which I enjoyed. It's a 4th Growth, yet I read more about the other Ducru (Beaucaillou) and 5th Growth producers such as Pontet Canet, Grand Puy Lacoste, and Lynch Bages, and I've had more experience with those. I am considering bringing my last bottle of the 2000 Branaire Ducru to dinner to share with a friend who drinks wine, enjoys it, but is more taken with the study of it. Is it not considered a top producer?
Diane, Branaire is my favorite Bordeaux, if somebody put a gun to my head. Sure, Latour or Lafite or Petrus, are probably “better,” but I can’t relate to them as much because I can’t afford them. I have always felt a touch of magic in bottles of Branaire, and the property is my size. It seems St.-Julien has a corner on magic.
And I’ve had my own romantic interludes with the property. I am relatively new to Bordeaux appreciation and didn’t drink my first Branaire before 2000, as I remember. I think I told this admittedly lame story on WLDG at the time: I was at a San Diego trade show discussing with a colleague the purchase of several bottles which had cost over $100 each when a pretty lady of color (I’m Caucasian), who had been eavesdropping, proclaimed she would give her body to any man who bought her a $100 bottle of wine.
I thought she was cute and spunky so I invited her to join me for dinner, and took her to a quaint little restaurant on the edge of Balboa Park. I ordered a bottle of 1995 Chateau Branaire Ducru (which of course was way young) because it was a Bordeaux, which I had started liking generically, and because it cost $95.
I was blown away by what I now refer to as the wine’s classicism. It was absolutely lovely. The lady was duly impressed at the cost of the bottle, and I hoped at my grace in not having gone a mere $5 more. But she did not seem to be captivated by the wine itself.
The next day I met a very lovely Native American woman, at the same show, who also expressed in interest in wine. I have to admit I thought it clever to dine with two raven-haired something-Americans back to back, so for as much this reason as not, I invited the woman to join me at the same restaurant, whereupon I ordered a second bottle of the 1995. Again I was delighted, but again the woman was more interested in her food and conversation.
On the third night I invited my Boss, who is a wine connoisseur, to join me in hopes of finally achieving consanguinity with regard to my appreciation, but I was foiled again. He liked it but admitted to enjoying California Cab more.
Later that same year, I dove into Bordeaux by purchasing thousands of dollars’ worth of mixed 1997 Bordeaux. Because Parker promised immediate drinkability, I figured I could accomplish a mammoth horizontal tasting to understand the region. Of all the properties, from both banks, I liked the Branaire the best and ordered an additional case of it. I mourned the downing of the last one.
I bought the 1998, the penultimate one of which I drank this past weekend, and found it to be a little foursquare for a usually elegant Branaire, and the 1999, which are indeed elegant. In 2004 I bought a case of 2000 Branaire, and presented one bottle to a Bordeaux knowledgeable lady, named Diane, at a dinner she hosted, explaining that I thought it would be a great wine to open in another six years or so. I read in her expression that she wasn’t impressed. I haven’t as yet opened one of the eleven left, but should do so at some point soon, for science. I am sure I will love them.
Lastly, my favorite short story of all time, “Taste,” by Roald Dahl, first published in the March 1945 issue of Ladies Home Journal, featured a bottle of 1934 Chateau Branaire. If you have never read this story, I think you would like it, and it would further endear you to the wonderful little property.