The Most and Least Important of Things: Petrus 1897–2011
BY NEAL MARTIN |
What is the place for a retrospective on Petrus in a time of global pandemic and economic hardship? This article has been in suspended animation since January 2019, when London’s Hide restaurant witnessed one of the most unforgettable wine dinners in recent memory. I had eagerly looked forward to this tasting, organized by collector Jordi Orriols-Gil, for weeks, but when the day finally came, I had just learned about my ill health and my head was in a spin. A treasure trove of Petrus was lined up, sommeliers milling around making sure all bottles had been decanted according to instruction, attendees having flown in from far and wide. Yet I sat there taciturn and deep in thought. The tasting suddenly seemed so inconsequential in the scheme of things.
I was not in a drinking mood, and oddly, my self-imposed abstinence lent my tasting notes a sense of perspicuity because you can bet your bottom dollar that any professional critic would not be depositing mouthfuls of these wines into a spittoon. At one point I even turned to my Belgian friend and invited him to finish my 1961 Petrus – surely the first and last time that sentence was ever uttered. In the ensuing weeks, I tried to find the right moment to publish the notes, but I was never in the proper frame of mind. Now, with the world lurching from one crisis to another, I still found myself struggling to justify the article’s presence in a grim landscape. Composing it felt like drawing a smiling sunflower over Botticelli’s depiction of Dante’s Inferno.
But finally, after 18 months, I decided that these rare and precious wines should be written up. First of all, as the only journalist in attendance, I had a duty to formally record a tasting that might never happen again. Secondly, life goes on; you cannot put everything on hold forever. Reliving this evening reminded me how much I miss the socializing, bonhomie and laughter that few of us will take for granted once they return. Maybe it will remind you too. I hope it offers vicarious pleasure and, for those lucky enough to have Petrus in the cellar, an indicator of how those bottles are drinking. Lastly, as banal as it sounds, I could not justify leaving these tasting notes to gather dust indefinitely. The delay meant that by the time I began collating my notes, I had participated in a second dinner in December, and so it was that the most traumatic year of my life was bookended by Petrus verticals, more or less the first and last tastings of 2019. Life turns out funny sometimes. This second tasting took place at Épure restaurant, overlooking Kowloon Bay in Hong Kong, a few days before the first cases of a mysterious new virus were reported in Wuhan, China. The purview did not reach quite as far back in time, though it did include many gems, such as the 1967 Petrus, which, for reasons I shall explain, constitutes a significant wine in my career.
One or two glasses lined up for the Petrus dinner in Hong Kong. This was for the sommeliers to pour the wines – we were located on the outside terrace.
Later I contemplated how I should write it up. Not that I am complaining, but having composed a dozen or so articles on Petrus since 2003, it was a challenge not to repeat myself. If you want to review the history of the estate, click here for a concise timeline. If you want the minutiae, then there is the chapter in my Pomerol book, which I intend to start rewriting in the not-too-distant future.
So, let’s crack on with the wines. As always, this is not a case of genuflecting at the altar and garlanding every vintage with praise. No wine is immune from criticism, Petrus included. One of the enlightening aspects of this tasting is that it represented periods of success and failure. The inclusion of challenging vintages beset by overcast summers and/or rainy harvests gave a clearer picture of Petrus through the years, with all its highs and lows, instead of a “greatest hits” where every wine cruises at 100 points or thereabouts. I broach the wines from youngest to oldest and where possible inform readers of the provenance of bottles.
What is the place for a retrospective on Petrus in a time of global pandemic and economic hardship? This article has been in suspended animation since January 2019, when London’s Hide restaurant witnessed one of the most unforgettable wine dinners in recent memory. But finally, after 18 months, I decided that these rare and precious wines should be written up. First of all, as the only journalist in attendance, I had a duty to formally record a tasting that might never happen again. Secondly, life goes on; you cannot put everything on hold forever.
