The Quiet One: 1962 Burgundy & Bordeaux 

BY NEAL MARTIN | DECEMBER 28, 2023

After Elvis received his draft papers and before the Beatles conquered the world, there was an interregnum during which cultural momentum petered out. The fad of rock ’n' roll and teenage rebellion had seemingly run its course, and, as a consequence, most people regard the early Sixties as a rather regressive, beige period. In reality, the era witnessed an astonishing progression in jazz from titans like John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins, the rise of Motown and the emergence of dance crazes like the “Twist”, all contemporaneous with the debuts of 007 and the Pill, and momentous historical events such as the Cuban Missile Crisis and the assassination of JFK. Ipso facto, it wasn’t exactly “quiet”, and the period foreshadowed what was to come.

Apropos of all things fermented, it was an intriguing period in time. The 1959 and 1961 vintages are touchstones for Bordeaux and Burgundy, even though the latter delayed its own annus mirabilis until 1962. My introduction to that particular vintage came courtesy of a 1962 Grands-Échézeaux from Domaine de la Romanée-Conti around 20 years ago. My fledgling website was just getting off the ground, and a mate—a dab hand at this computer malarkey—received his scurrilous payment in the form of fermented grape juice to spruce it up and at least make it look professional. The aforesaid bottle was acquired from a merchant who warned that it had a low ullage and kindly gave me a discount—the princely sum of £80.00.

Prizing out the blackened, saturated cork, my nostrils began to twitch as intoxicating aromas filled my tiny kitchen. The perfume made me swoon. I took a sip. Choirs of angels sang outside the window. My mate appeared to undergo a transcendental experience. The wine’s spectral beauty lay beyond the sensory, crossing into the spiritual realm. Now, I could understand the paradox of weight and weightlessness, the ineffable transparency of Pinot Noir—its mercurial, transmutable nature that emerges as oxygen unlocks its secrets swirl-by-swirl, an alluring enigma. That experience became a cornerstone of my education. Thereafter, I scoured restaurant and merchants’ lists for any 1962 Burgundy, and for that matter, Bordeaux, accumulating a cache of positive experiences from both regions.

Every subsequent 1962 Burgundy was a madeleine for that Grands-Echézeaux. Bizarrely, the wines were given short shrift upon release, a vintage unfairly ignored and overlooked for many years. Allen Meadows and Doug Barzelay, writing in their Burgundy Vintages tome, remark that the 1962s exist in the shadows of the ever-popular 1959s and celebrated Bordeaux 1961s. The 1962s’ youthful charm misled cognoscenti to presume they had short shelf-lives, repeating their misjudgment apropos the 1953s. This inexplicable oversight and the vintage’s perceived inadequacy lingered into the salad days of my career, explaining how I could amass several tasting notes. As pointed out by those authors, even as late as 2001, respected writers Bazin, Hulot and Piot nominated 1961 Burgundy over 1962! Nineteen sixty-two was “George Harrison”, aka “the quiet one”, leaving 1959 and 1961 to hog the limelight. Only in the last decade has 1962’s stock risen for both regions. Its reappraisal prompted sharp hikes in auction prices. Nowadays, hushed reverence prevails whenever one is opened. 

Given all this, you can imagine my anticipation upon being invited to a private dinner, Burgundy-themed around the 1962 vintage, part of a series of private gatherings that follow in the footsteps of 1958 and 1959. The evening straddled not just those two classic wine regions but also delved into Champagne and a sole representative from Spain, with nearly all bottles proffered by guests, including a sprinkling of winemakers who raided their own cellars.

Before continuing, a brief summary of the respective growing seasons that year: This is a year when conditions in both Bordeaux and Burgundy were broadly similar. Vine growth stuttered due to the cold, so the vines were three weeks behind schedule. Inclement weather continued, and by the time flowering occurred, the cycle lagged by two weeks. Fortunately, a hot July, intensified by a sirocco wind, allowed them to catch up. By August, the heat meant some vines began to suffer hydric stress. The balmy summer stretched through to September, prompting talk of a new 1945. However, a storm on October 2 interrupted the inchoate harvest. It was pretty late in both regions, with Domaine de la Romanée-Conti not even beginning until October 15—a date that seems incomprehensible today. Some vines had completely shut down, so must weights were not particularly high. The picking concluded relatively late, on October 22 in Bordeaux and around the same time in Burgundy.