1975 Rancio

The Puig-Parahy 1975 Rancio smells and tastes of purple plum, fig, toasted nuts, and bitter-sweet chocolate, with a more robust and youthful – though correspondingly less ethereal – personality than the 1981. The oxidation here manifests itself more in deep, smoky, toasted characteristics that fold especially beautifully into the chocolaty, nutty richness, and caramelization, as well as in the wine’s combination of silkiness of texture and underlying firmness. And yet, there is a certain snap and brightness – almost like a whip’s lash – in the finish. This could serve as a memorable accompaniment to many a dessert. Georges Puig’s estate ten hilly miles southeast of Perpignan is like a time capsule, filled with ancient documents, ancient paraphernalia, and most importantly ancient fortified wines – some in bottle, most still in tanks and casks. Ranks of long-since abandoned terraces receding toward the Pyrenees testify to a time when the world had an enormous appetite for this area’s oxidized Grenache-based wines, and if you taste through a significant subset of the 46 extant vintages in Puig’s cellar, you begin to understand why. But, first things first: while Puig doesn’t appear to take them (let alone price them!) all that seriously, his dry red wines – grown on a mixture of chalk-clay and schist – offer exceptional value. Even here, Puig’s approach is out-of-time. I was surprised to be offered as current in December three of the same 2005 vintage wines I had reviewed for issue 178, and to be able to taste the successor vintages of only a single cuvee. The sweet wines here have been known by several appellations over the 134 years encompassed by the estate’s collection, but (other than a bit of Muscat de Rivesaltes which I did not taste) are now known merely as “rancio.” They are based on Grenache of one sort or another – principally Grenache Noir – with a small amount of Carignan. (No one knows, admits Puig, how much Carignan was included in his grandfather’s generation or before, since the estate’s meticulous record-keeping did not extend to accounting for cepage, and most vineyards were field blends.) I tasted some very young sweet, fortified wine from tank and found it pretty, but simple. The magic only begins once these wines oxidize. If I were the I.N.A.O., I would be hastening – if not to award these their own appellation, then at least – to adopt them as Rivesaltes (which for decades they were), because they are sweet, oxidized wines of often riveting complexity whose like I have not met outside Madeira, much less in Roussillon. What’s more, they are relatively affordable. The quantities of older wines vary enormously from one vintage to another. Some have been bottled repeatedly some rarely; and a few of the most ancient have already been bottled for the last time. The bulk of each wine is normally removed from demi-muids to tank when Puig deems it sufficiently evolved – typically after around 20 years – and is then used to continue “refreshing” the remaining barrels by topping them up and inhibiting further oxidation. I confine my notes on this occasion to wines currently on offer in bottle. Any indication of potential longevity is moot, as these wines should prove practically ageless in bottle. It seems almost a sacrilege to “score” them, but I found that they fell into a pretty clear pecking order. Jack Siler Selections (various importers), Paris; fax 011 33 1 45 45 23 59