1942 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Richebourg “Vigne Originelle Française”
BY NEAL MARTIN |
Most bottles of wine are drunk, but over a lifetime, a handful are experienced. This has nothing to do with cost, even if a hefty price tag is the corollary. Call it utopia, call it nirvana, call it whatever you want, but sometimes a bottle of fermented grape juice transports you to a higher plane. It becomes immediately and indelibly imprinted on your mind, mounted upon the mantelpiece of life’s precious moments, alongside your first kiss. It triggers a sensory, intellectual, even quasi-religious reaction whose ripples are felt for days, months and years afterward. The elevation from a mortal wine to an experience is enhanced by historical significance, transmuted into a memento of a bygone era that, uniquely, can be consumed. It is a glass vessel that holds the untold stories of men and women who contributed to its existence, and you write the final chapter.
Such an experience transpired in Burgundy a few months back, courtesy of an incredibly special bottle: a 1942 Richebourg from Domaine de la Romanée-Conti. What distinguished this bottle were the words printed underneath that unmistakable font pronouncing the vineyard: “Vigne Originelle Française Non Reconstitutée.” This is a Holy Grail for Burgundy lovers, or at least for those who are aware of its existence. It is a fabled wine that I presumed I would never see, let alone drink with Aubert and Bertrand de Villaine. It is habitually referred to as “Richebourg Vieilles Vignes,” but I have not used that name here because there is no mention of those words on the label, and moreover, vine age is not this wine’s raison d’être. Allow me to explain.
From the time the phylloxera louse was detected in 1879 until the cessation of World War II, the domaine’s vineyards were re-grafted plot by plot onto American rootstock. However, the proprietors left a few rows of Romanée-Conti and Richebourg to chance their luck year by year on their original Gallic roots, and established separate bottlings from their grapes. With respect to Richebourg, Allen Meadows proposes that this comprised a 1.2-hectare plot, probably planted in the late 19th century, though Aubert de Villaine himself avers that it constituted just a few rows and a couple of barrels. It is impossible to discover exactly when this cuvée was initiated, but in all likelihood, it began in the mid-1920s and continued until the valedictory 1945. Bollinger’s Vieilles Vignes Françaises excepted, to my knowledge the holding in Richebourg represents the country’s last vestige of productive red vines on French rootstock since the vines were pulled up in 1946, a year later than Romanée-Conti. It should be noted that back in those days, the aim was not to extort more money from consumers willing to pay a premium for a special cuvée. Remember that Burgundy languished throughout the 1930s, perceived as far less noble than Bordeaux—not to mention that in 1942, oenophiles were probably more preoccupied with surviving until the next day than with something as trifling as wine. I suspect that the Vigne Originelle Française Non Reconstitutée was made in order to observe the difference between the two cuvées, to postpone the anguish of uprooting long-serving vines and, of course, to inspire a bit of patriotism that was much needed during the country’s occupation.
