Moët — going out on a vine

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You may remember reports about the summer of 2003 in France? That’s the summer when France experienced more 100-degree days than ever in recorded history. Well, vines typically don’t care much for that level of heat, and they’re certainly unused to it in Champagne.

To make matters worse, frost decimated many vineyards in early spring, and hail nearly finished off what had survived the frost. With such a short crop, the growing period accelerated, leading to Champagne’s earliest harvest date — Aug. 18 — since 1822.

With so little fruit, and such an extreme year, most Champagne houses played it safe — they held on to their yield, which was minuscule and ripe, to blend it into multi-vintage wines (as you probably know, most Champagne is the product of multiple vintages) and forget about the whole sordid mess. Not Benoit Gouez, ‘chef de cave’ of Moët & Chandon. He took 2003 as a challenge, and, with a certain amount of audacity, declared a vintage 2003.

At a recent tasting he paired the 2003 with other vintage wines from their reserves that were declared under similarly warm conditions. Thus, after some discussion, flutes were placed before us, and he poured Grand Vintage Brut from 2003, 1995, 1990, 1976 and 1959. He was supremely confident that the 2003 would take its place in their company. Warm-vintage Champagne is typically richer and often more seductive than those of cooler vintages. What they may lack in ageability they often make up for in seductive power. Gouez was making the worthwhile point that history may have a hand in deciding if 2003 was worth declaring. But the proof lay in the glass.

The 2003 Brut had aromas of Karo syrup and vanillin, very primary, very unformed. (I have to remind myself it’s not meant to be released until the fall.) My very first impression is that it smells like Grand Cru Chablis, which, given the warmth of the vintage (and Champagne’s proximity to the slightly warmer Chablis) makes sense. On the palate the flavors are assertive, even powerful, with a lush mouthfeel. In fact it’s unnervingly rich — it’s sort of like watching a movie from the first row of the theatre: Everything’s a little too big, out of focus and distorted. There’s no reason to think that the wine won’t settle, but for now elegance is not its hallmark.

The tasting proved that it’s dangerous to forecast the course of even the most perfect vintage. The cooler years are often thought to be more age-worthy, so how is it that the ’59 was so lively, or the ’76 so exotic? Then again, why did the ’90 seem like it was on a downward slide, coming from one of the so-called vintages of the century?

I’m going to risk just one prediction: The fact that the 2003 was so out of focus suggests that this wine, massive for Champagne, still needs months if not years to settle into itself — which suggests it’s a worthy investment for the cellar. The 2003 Grand Vintage will be released this fall for about $60. (There is a rosé as well, for $70.) Moet is also planning on releasing a small amount of their older, warm-vintage Champagnes — the ’95 and the ’90 are in the pipeline — so you can set up your own comparative tasting, and make your own assessment of the virtues of warm-vintage bottlings.

— Patrick Comiskey