Special offer
Spectator Wine Club
Auberon Waugh
AI feared, the greed of Spectator readers — or perhaps it would be politer to talk of their hunger for new ex- perience — ensured that the 150 cases of Château Musar 1977, from the Lebanon, were snapped up within ten days. I had in- geniously found them to offer at £51 the case delivered, but that offer is now closed. In response to howls of rage from disap- pointed customers and yelps of delight from the luckier ones I have found 70 cases of the same wine from a later shipment through a local agent at the higher price of £52.20 the case (£4.35 the bottle), but I am afraid this is the last we shall see of this amazing wine, apart from the occasional bin-end. It may be that even at this higher price (which is still nearer 90p a bottle cheaper than the last price quoted by many wine merchants) there will still be disap- pointed customers. But it is no earthly use sending poignant letters with your applica- tion, describing how you have four aged spaniels to support and how your father once played cricket with my poor old Uncle
Alec at Sherborne. I never see them. They are fed straight into a machine which has no finer feelings. Those who are lucky enough to have a good postal service will get the wine, the rest will get their cheques back.
I had intended to accompany this repeat offer with a full vertical selection of Musars going back to the 1940s, but closer scrutiny revealed that many were unobtainable and prices have nearly doubled since I last look- ed into the matter, six months ago. Damn. They are now asking very nearly £20 for the 1961; I have not tasted it, and although it may well be worth £20 when compared with the ludicrous prices people are prepared to pay for 1961 classified Bordeaux — or even for perfectly rotten 1980 Burgundies — there is no reason to suppose that 1961 was a better year in Lebanon than it was in Bangkok or Tokyo. And there is all the dif- ference in the world between amazing your friends with a brilliant wine which has cost under £4.50 and trying to impress them with a £20 wine from the Hindu Kush or wher- ever. So I rather fear this section of the offer
may turn into a solitary, oenological 2 gr ic3a: June l rnb Whatever people may now say, practical' ly nobody had heard of Château Musar, or of M. Hochar, before the 1979 Bristol Wine Fair, which introduced his excellent 1970 vintage. In fact the enterprise was started in 1930 by his father, Gaston Hochar, Noah's ancient land of Canaan, now the Bekaa Valley, 3,000 feet above sea level at the foot of Mount Lebanon. In 1959 Serge Hochar took over after many years in Bordeaux, but it was not until 1982, when he showed the full range of his vintages g(); ing back to the 1940s, that people realised they had a really serious wine producer in the Near East. Of the three older wines on offer, the 1972 starts rather barbaric and weird. After six hours in the decanter it emerges aSi. smooth, elegant, classic Bordeaux — rat"e: like a grand cru St Emilion of a good year although it has no merlot in itscePag,.e; Perhaps I should have mentioned that til 1977 profits from at least three hours in the decanter before drinking. A second bash at luncheon next day is equally rewarding' The 1970, by contrast, needs drinking ill!: mediately — within a couple of hours it 1' stone dead, like a 1953 Château Margat,lx. Its immediate taste is full, smooth anu,„ great deal more French than much of the funny stuff one was getting from Bordug
u"
eadd, at about this time. In a just and sane w(l's people would be delighted to pay bottle for it, but we do not live in stie19167 world and I don't think they will The lss'ity strikes me as not quite settled yet. p it needs longer. It seems to have an acid; problem which might resolve itself in future, but might not. If its label proeinica'; ed a famous French château in an of!. a one would jump at it for £11.72 — perfectly good, thick, grand Bordeaux. 1.'0, at that price from the Lebanon I do not1 agine there will be many punters. All these wines are pretty overPowernilluge not to say as rich and as thick as sin. e could not drink them every day, When than one can eat pigeons every daY. "..."„'"res produced the Château Cher (Graves) at the end of an evening of us the whole company broke into spontane°,r applause — not just the Wykehantists,o; the left-wingers, or those who had hadhoss misfortune to go to Cambridge or sorne"cite escape National Service. It is at the oPP°'' end of the Cabernet Sauvignon spectrt0,:e light, elegant and forceful without taP0 slightest touch of sweetness or depth.,I, r/.) not by nature a Graves man (a Gravenetive but after an evening of Musar it was as. water to a soul in Hell. Tasted again in tr„i quillity, it is a delicious example of wilt, imagine claret always used to be — ligor ,self-contained and supportive of, re it amount of left-wing arrogance — the tie, ideas above its station. At £4.46 t"eA the tle, nobody need feel guilty. Both it Oleo, white Macon-Villages slip down eff°11„,e ly. I include the Macon-Villages for surnb""ovi drinking as a good, cheap example °Cu be ordinary Chablis used to taste. It vii" even better in three months' time.
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