Another Night at Brunswick House

Joe Gilmour Thoughts

Amongst all the mega developments, ill thought-out swimming pools in the sky and various crappy, soulless and dead-eyed architectural schemes stands Lassco house and the increasingly sophisticated cooking at Brunswick House. Always excellent, our meal last night seemed to be even more precise, flavourful and interesting then my past memories of meals gone by.

Unfortunately, the glasses were a bit on the crap side, or to be more accurate, for the Burgs, did not really work that great. More on that later on.
We did the wines sort of blind, and they were all great, difficult to choose a wine of the evening.

Starting with a Chablis, a 1er Vaulorent from Patrick Piuze – was very nice, probably could have benefitted from more time in the decanter. Young Chablis must be the one style that benefits the most from a decant. It was good. I read that he ferments and ages 1er and Grand Cru for 10 months in used barrels. It was pretty difficult to detect any oak at all on the wine. Probably much better the day after. Unlike me.

As the glasses emptied, we moved to the reds – starting with ooh, what is it? It is New World? It’s oaky, it’s full bodied – is it Cabernet? Ah, no Gilmour, you total boob, it’s 2003 Volnay 1er Clos des Ducs from d’Angervillle. Well, ahh. What can I say? The glasses were difficult to get the Pinosite, and really it is very dense and oaky. 2003 is a weird vintage, but the winemaking style at the domaine and the sun didn’t combine in the best way. It would have been fascinating to try the Lafarge version side by side, which I feel might have had a bit more natural character to it.
The next wine was utterly lovely, a 1995 CNDP Cuvee Laurence from Pegau. I really dig this wine – the Laurence iteration always seems a step up from the regular cuvee. Perfectly drinking now but in no hurry at all.

Finally came bit of a cuvee-ball, which I knew about, so not so much for me. 1979 Barbacarlo from Lino Maga.

This iconic Italian arguably deserves to be more widely known than it is. But it really is in a category all by itself. As Alice Feiring writes: “Maga lacks the star status of Bartolo Mascarello, the rakishness of Lorenzo Accomasso, or the established sanity of Emidio Pepe, but he should be up there for those who seek out the most profound traditionalists.”. Luca Veronelli, the great Italian intellectual adored the wine, and put it on the highest pedestal as offering satisfaction to mind and body. It was superb, almost timeless, very perfumed and drinkable like the great Barolos of the period.

And that was that, like the German saying, ‘everything has an end, except a sausage, that has two’, we stumbled into the night, sure to return soon.

Joe GilmourAnother Night at Brunswick House