The problem with having a little bit of knowledge is that it can give you the false impression you understand something that you really know nothing about. That’s the way it is for me and Bordeaux blanc, we sell one at work, Chateau Lamothe, and over the past couple of years I’ve tasted it frequently. It’s important to be able to describe what you’re selling in your own words and wine, especially blended wine, can change significantly from vintage to vintage. Recently, our buyer decided to shake the list up, removing the Chateau Lamothe Bordeaux Blanc and replacing it with Chateau Ducasse Graves blanc. Naturally, I had to try it.
So, why do I say I really don’t know much about this style of wine? Well, let’s be real, this is the third white wine I’ve tried from France’s Bordeaux region. When dealing with the average consumer who may not even realize Bordeaux makes white wine, that limited amount of experience can carry weight, but having tried three wines hardly makes me an expert, even if it’s three more bottles than most of the country has tried.
With all that being said, I have mixed feelings about this wine. I want to be generous, because I think my expectation of what the wine should be was not a fair standard to hold it to. While I have limited experience with Bordeaux blanc, this is a Graves blanc, and while Graves is part of Bordeaux, it’s still its own region. The other thing to note is this blend is also different than the other wines I’ve tried, in this case Sémillon comprising the majority part (60%) as opposed to Sauvignon Blanc (40%). In other words, as it’s not fair to compare an apple to an orange, it may not be fair for me to compare a Sauvignon Blanc Bordeaux blend against a Graves Sémillon blend.
So, what we have is a clean, crisp, white wine with a nice balance of body and acid, but with a lot more punch than the other Bordeaux blanc I have tried. Basic Bordeaux, both red and white, tend to be pretty balanced wines from my experience, but, once again, this isn’t a Bordeaux, it’s a Graves and the flavor was far more aggressive than I expected. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, in fact, I think most Americans would probably prefer an “in your face” style of wine as opposed to something more delicate.
When I initially posted this blog, I erroneously linked to a write up from Kermit Lynch about a winemaker named Hervé Dubourdieu. Unfortunately, Hervé has absolutely nothing to do with this winery. It wasn’t until I was updating map links that I noticed that the label from his Chateau Ducasse was different from the wine I was referencing. While this isn’t uncommon, especially with imported wine, I suspected I had made an error when I found multiple wineries whose name contained some variation of “Chateau Ducasse.” The correct website is for Chateau Beauregard Ducasse, which provides a lovely overview of the winery’s history and winemaking techniques. Apologies to the Perromat family and Hervé Dubourdieu for the error.
After dancing around the point for five hundred words, I guess I should just come right out and say what I think: I didn’t like this wine. I think it’s well made, I think it’s what it’s supposed to be, I just didn’t care for it. There’s a big difference between not liking a wine and a wine being bad. One of the reasons I’ve enjoyed other whites from Bordeaux is because they tend to be more neutral in their flavor, whereas this one has a more dominating grapefruit character that I, personally, find unpleasant. While I have difficulty recommending this wine because I didn’t care for it, I also can’t fairly speak against it because of my own bias.
On a personal level, I’m happy to have my presumed knowledge of Bordeaux white challenged so completely. One of the most important things for a person to know is what they don’t know, and in this I realize I don’t know much of anything about Bordeaux blanc. It’s a good thing, because I know more now than I did before and when I have my next bottle, I’ll be more prepared.