Champagne part II-Salon, Dehours
The next day was a Sunday and we decided to take a rest day before the serious business of the week began. This gave us a great opportunity to take a good walk around the region we were in:
The hills over Chavot
You can see the steepness of the hills around Champagne — and attempt to expose the vines to as much sun light as possible and, it may sound contradictory, also discourage too much vigor.
After the big night at Assiette Champenoise, some of the steep parts were really getting the alcohol out of the system.
The trouble with wandering around the forests in regional France is that you really need to keep an eye out for hunters. The report of shot guns could be heard every 5 minutes or so, and the appearance of spent shells encouraged us to talk very loudly, lest we be mistaken for wild boars (of course, we were rightly mistaken as wild bores).
For dinner I made Boeuf Bourguignon and we took a Raphet Clos de Vougeot 2000 in magnum:
The Raphet was a wine of great elegance for a Vougeot. After a few hours, it took on a fine complexity I’ve rarely seen in a young wine from the Clos. Definitely worth trying but will be better in seven more years.
The next day we were straight down to business: tasting at Salon.
Salon
The ‘64 Salon. Unfortunately, I couldn’t convince them to part with one of their nine remaining bottles.
Salon is a small producer in Le Mesnil sur Oger. They only produce wine in great years, strictly from Mesnil fruit, 100% Chardonnay. The house was founded by Eugène Salon. The house tells the story that, until 1921, M. Salon made wine only for his personal consumption. He made enough that he could drink it at Maxim’s in Paris as frequently as he liked. He made three vintage wines, a 1905, a 1911 and a 1918. As far as Salon knows, there are sadly no bottles of this wine remaining.
Luckily for Champagne lovers, the management of Maxim’s tired of M. Salon’s habit and came to an agreement with them: he would make a wine for them to sell, what we now know as Salon, and they would allow him to continue drinking it at their establishment. Hmm… who won out there?
Salon remains a very small operation. They make between 55,000 and 65,000 bottles for each of the vintages they release. Of course, it has not always been so high. To show how small it has been, some old record books are left out for customers to browse:
These are the companies accounts for 1960. And here, some for April 1963:
Salon prides itself on making wine only in the best of years. So far, they have released the following vintages: 1921, 1925, 1928, 1934, 1937, 1942, 1943, 1946, 1947, 1948, 1949, 1951, 1953, 1955, 1956, 1959, 1961, 1964, 1966, 1969, 1971, 1973, 1979, 1982, 1983, 1985, 1988, 1990, 1995 and 1996.
Salon has a small library of these wines.
A few dozen ’66s
What remains of the ’61 vintage
The dwindling quantity of ’48 and ’49
The product of ’43 — surprising, as it is a war time vintage
There were bottles from the other Salon vintages also, but the light was too poor to photograph them. The bottles are pointing down because they have not been disgorged. So, the lees are still in the neck of the bottle. Salon — indeed every Champagne house — wants to minimise lees contact after the initial maturation period as extended contact will age the wine too quickly and produce an undesirable amount of earthy, mushroom even reductive aroma.
Everything before 1964 remains on its original cork. The ’64s were disgorged because the corks were failing. After that, everything is on crown seal.
Yet to make it in to the library is the 1997, which will be released in April this year. Unfortunately, we could not taste it as it had not finished its riddling. Described to us, it had the same level of sugar as ’96 but just with less acid. Still, to make the cut for Salon, it has to be good.
Bottles of 1997 being riddled.
After the 1997, Salon plan to release a 1999, 2002, 2004 and 2006. They found the other vintages unsuitable for making a wine in the mold of Salon. Those years which do not make the cut are not made into a second wine. The fruit is simply sold at market rates to the local negociant.
Salon is made from fruit which comes exclusively from local growers, not its own land. They work extremely closely with the growers. They have a 50/50 profit/cost split with the growers, unique in Champagne as far as I know. They do actually own one vineyard outright, but it is tiny and was hit in 2003 by a virus which killed all vines:
The small vineyard behind the château at Salon
Of course, all this talk about the small, boutique producer is not really true. Salon is owned by Laurent-Perrier. For their bread and butter, they make Champagne Delamotte, whose production is massive when compared to Salon. Delamotte is styled on Salon, in that they generally produce vintage wines in the same year as Salon. This, for me, has more to do with the fact that the fruit is mostly from the same region so those years which suit Salon will make good wines for Delamotte.
To this end, we tasted Delamotte as well as Salon, but in Salon’s exquisite new tasting room:
We commenced with the Delamotte Brut, which was made up of 50% Chardonnay, 30% Pinot Noir and the Pinot Meunier. The non-Chardonnay fruit is sourced by Laurent Perrier from the Montagne de Reims. This was a pleasant, commercial style of Champagne, showing generous fruit with round, older material in the blend. The structure was sound but the dosage a little high for my taste.
We continued with the Delamotte Blanc de Blancs. I found this a little reductive, but the reduction passed. When it did, the wine showed richer, rounder fruit, explained by the fact that most of it came from the 2002 vintage. The wine was long in the mouth. The Delamotte Rosé gave a spicy nose with raw, wild Pinot fruit, despite being made in the saignée style. For a rosé, it is inexpensive and well made, but not inspiring.
Surprisingly, I also found the Delamotte 1999 a little reductive. I questioned our host on this and he said that the preference at Salon is to make wine in a reductive style — that is, not to have reductive aromas in the wine but to make the wine in an anaerobic fashion, without much oxygen contact. The wines is made in stainless style and then put in bottle, no oak contact. So, when young the wines can be reductive but aging sees this character go away. Under the reduction, there was plenty of ripe, delicious fruit. The criticism would be that structurally, the wine was lacking. It lacked a core of acidity to tie the fruit together.
The Delamotte 1990 certainly did not have any reduction issues. It had a delicious bouquet of burnt honey, cedar, mushrooms and lanolin. When tasting it, I saw apricot. Look at the nose again, it was there too. There were almonds too, after a bit of are. Surprising for a wine which does not strive to be a long termer. In some ways, the ripeness was similar to 1990, but it had good acidity. The concern I had was the dosage might make it look a little fat, compared to the next wine.
The Salon 1996 is, quite simply, an extraordinary wine. It has a structure verging on perfection. The mousse is of a fineness I’ve rarely encountered. The wine, frankly, is weightless. Drinking it, you have a creeping sense that this wine is maybe one of the greatest you’ll ever drink. I was captivated by every aspect of this wine. It seemed remarkable that it could be this great.
Our host told me that, at Salon, there is a saying: “a wine must be contradictory to be great.” That was the case with this wine: its weightlessness, it’s elegance ran against the amazing power and steely structure it had. It’s amazing that it could be both light and powerful. Absolutely singular.
Salon is recommending cellaring the wine for 6 more years. That is far too short for me. If you have some bottles of this rare wine in ideal cellaring conditions (humid, constant temperature of around 14C) I recommend waiting at least 18 years before opening it. Although enjoyable now, it will be a legend at this time.
Our host seemed to have unintentionally acknowledged this, by suggesting that the 1983 is beginning to show its true potential now, and the 88 is just starting to show what it is capable of.
Needless to say, returning to the Delamotte after Salon was impossible. So, with the taste of Salon in our mouths, we made our goodbyes and parted with massive smiles on our faces.
Dehours
After a long, slow lunch it was off to Dehours, one of the new breed of wine makers in the Marne Valley. Jerôme is one of those classic Frenchman you meet in the country side: they’re so slick and cool you can’t see them in the vines. In fact, his tasting room resembles a night club. His personal life is very cosmopolitan as well. Jerôme grimaced as Jim brought up the topic of his love life. The last time Jim and Ian were in France, just one year ago, Jerôme had been flirting outrageously with his marketing assistant and former girlfriend. In the year since, there had been divorces, marriages, babies and more divorces. We quickly moved things back to the much safer topic of wine!
Unfortunately the tasting room smelled of paint. Also unfortunately, it was freezing in the chais, so despite the aroma we stayed inside to taste. We started with the Brut, which consisted mainly of Pinot Meunier from the 2004 vintage. The nose had that meaty quality of meunier. At first I thought, ‘curried chicken’. When you encounter fine wine made from Pinot Meunier you are almost left without words to describe it, it is so different. Another pleasing quality of the grape is the beautiful fruit-like acidity it has, and it made this wine very clean and refreshing. The question I had is, where does this wine fit: is it an aperitif? If seems to bold to be so. In that case, what to serve it with? Jerôme prefers spanish ham, which would work I think.
Jerôme, like many of the people we met, is full of ideas. He kept telling us he ‘had an objective’ — no matter what it is, it was his objective to do it.
He poured the Extra Brut, the same assemblage but without dosage. The wine could not have been more different: it exploded with aroma, particularly quince and cinnamon. The wine had a core of fruit sweetness which was there despite there being no residual sugar. I think this style suits his wines better.
The Confidentielle Brut is a Chardonnay dominant blend (57% Chardonnay, 32% Meunier, the rest Pinot). Jerôme has begun a solera system, like that in Spain. He cannot take credit for it in Champagne, that goes to Anselme Selosse, of which I will write in detail in a later post. The solera gives the wine a bolder, more oxidative character, more honey, white flowers, ginger. Combined with the 2003 fruit, this wine was rich, it almost had that burnt grapefruit aroma old Montrachet can take on. A challenging, interesting wine. A wine to drink now, but which has the elements of a wine one would expect to be much older.
The Brisefer Blanc de Blancs 2002 is Dehours new single vineyard wine. It’s interesting seeing what Jerôme can do with Chardonnay. This wine showed the ripeness of 2002, with perhaps a little botrytise. It could also be the passage in barrique which brings out a sweeter quality in the wine. Regardless, an interesting wine, not really my style but worth tasting. The lack of dosage allows you to focus on the fruit itself. The Blanc de Noirs, made of Meunier, has yet to be released. It is made of 2003 fruit and shows a side of Meunier I haven’t seen before: a very rich nose with oak, spice, roses, cinnamon. It smelt like a Ramonet Chassagne. In mouth, I saw more ginger. An amazing wine for 2003, well worth seeking out. This wine had only been disgorged a month before so, presumably, it will look better and better soon.
Jerôme was emphatic about what he wants to do: primarily, make a wine which can refresh. All Champagne should do this, he says. After that, he is trying to show a side of Pinot Meunier which is interesting and enjoyable to Champagne lovers. With these wines, he achieves both.
We quickly rushed home and Fred and I got stuck into the cooking. I made a game bird soup to warm us up and to make gravy with, while Fred roasted some fowl:
We took a bottle of Pierre Peters Cuvée Speciale 1999 which was sadly corked. So, we moved onto a bottle of Henriot Cuvée des Enchanteleurs 1995. I’m beginning to see some of the 1995s, like this one, evolve a lot more quickly than I thought. Interesting, well made, but lacking complexity.
We moved onto a Lamarche Echezeaux 2001. I like their 2001s but this was something of an exception: a little too oaky, heavy and lacking finesse. We played with some other wines but decided to call it a night, in preparation for the Festival of Saint Vincent (the patron saint of wine) the next day.
