Vintage Variation: Why it’s never as simple as a good or bad year

By Mary Margaret McCamic MW | General Manager, Karolus Wine Imports

These days, it seems that everyone wants to be the first to define a vintage, in some cases long before the wine has even been bottled. Heck, some people seem to be able to declare a vintage’s quality before the grapes have even been harvested! The truth of the matter is that defining a vintage is quite complicated, especially in regions like Burgundy, where so much depends on vineyard location, timing, and a producer’s ability (and in many cases, desire) to choose quality over quantity. When it comes to a vintage, quality can rarely be reduced to categories that are as black and white as good or bad.

I’ve been guilty of categorizing wines this way myself. I’ve often joked that my birth year was less than ideal in the wine world, save a few gems globally (all right, I’ll tell you - I’m a 1984 baby). While there’s nothing wrong with knowing your vintages and their general quality, it seems fundamentally unfair to judge an individual wine solely by its vintage. When we do it, we risk missing out on really exciting bottles.

Here’s the bottom line: the best producers can and do make exceptional wine in challenging years. Some regions routinely face more challenges than others; poor Burgundy is often riddled with hail, which can affect both fruit quality and quantity. Like Bordeaux, it is also a region where in cool years, grapes in some parts of the region can struggle to ripen, resulting in wines that can seem lighter, less fruit-driven, and to some, less exciting. In contrast, Napa Valley has a climate that in most years can ripen grapes easily and produce consistently high quality wines without quite as many challenges. But even a Golden Child like Napa has fallen victim to our vintage judgments; 2011 was maligned for being cooler and more rainy, even though the wines produced were in many cases refined, subtle, and elegant. (To note, many, within the wine industry especially, actually love the style of Napa’s 2011 because of its subtlety.)

On my recent trip to Burgundy for the glorious 2019 harvest at Bonneau du Martray, I had this topic on my mind. Sure, 2019 was great for Bonneau du Martray. Conditions were generally good throughout the growing season, save one bout with hail that luckily did not damage any of the estate’s fruit. Everyone was excited. But what about vintages where there are more or fewer challenges? I asked winemaker Emmanuel Hautus what he thought about the concept of good and bad vintages, and here’s what he had to say: 

“I think we have vintages. That is all. They are not naturally good or bad. Difficult is a better word than bad. Even if the year is difficult, you can make decisions in the vineyard and in the winery that can make a great wine. In challenging years, it’s actually easier to find the top estates, because difficult years (disease pressure, challenging harvest conditions) force you to be more precise and vigilant, even in top terroirs like Corton-Charlemagne.”

His answer was not unexpected, but it sure was refreshing. Most winemakers and viticulturalists that I know feel the same way because for them, a vintage is so much more than a finished wine: it is something they experienced. They are the ones who have to find solutions to the challenges nature deals, they are the ones who make the difficult decisions about abandoning fruit. They are the ones who, day after day, walk the vineyard rows, carefully tasting the grapes, and cautiously watching the weather. They are the ones working during harvest, whether it is pouring rain, muddy and miserable, or sunny, beautiful, and inspiring. Ultimately, they are the ones who decide what wines make the final blending cut in the winery, with an aim to always make a wine that is the best representation of that particular year. 

If you truly understand the work that goes into making a fine wine, it is hard to label any vintage as simply good or bad.

I have come to believe that when it comes to great wines, it seems more fair to use vintage conditions as a guide for style. Part of drinking fine wine means understanding that vintage variation is part of the novelty; it allows us the opportunity to expand our minds, evaluate different nuances, and explore how different producers and regions handle the challenges each year hands them. A vintage is like a chapter in a producer’s novel, each necessary to appreciate their whole story.

I often use Bonneau du Martray’s 1994 vintage of Corton-Charlemagne Grand Cru as an example; the vintage was not easy, and many vineyards struggled with rot. And yet, Bonneau du Martray’s white wine was recognized as one of the best of the vintage at the time of its release. Opening it many times over the past several years has proven that not only was it good then, it has also aged beautifully over the past twenty-five years, a feat even the best vintages of white burgundy can only hope to achieve. I cannot tell you how many collectors have purchased, opened, and been blown away by this bottle since we released it three years ago from the cellars. Imagine the pleasure that would have been missed if they had judged this bottle purely by the vintage’s reputation.

I was reminded of this again in Burgundy in early September when we tasted Bonneau du Martray’s 1987 and 1989 Corton-Charlemagne. By all rights, 1989 was a much more ideal vintage, and it was praised for both quality and longevity. And yet, tasting the two side by side – both beautiful, light gold in color with plenty of energy given their age – the 1987 more than held its own. For some tasting the wines, it was the favorite, with aromatics of caramel, fresh citrus, and light hazelnut leading into a broad palate with a bright and refreshing finish.

I love a good underdog story, and I love a wine that surprises me. These are the wines that teach me the most.

I’d argue that all of us - collectors, lovers, professionals - should start thinking about vintages differently. We can understand a vintage by acknowledging its strengths and weaknesses while also welcoming stylistic variations that vintage conditions reveal within classic regions and trusted producers. Sure, there might be bottles that fail to excite us in the way we’d hope along the way, and we’ll learn from those as they help us refine our taste preferences. But there will also be beautiful, exhilarating surprises and unexpected bottles that become favorites. In my mind, the potential for reward far outweighs the risk.