A Tale of Two 1989s

No.2 | What's In My Glass

The holidays are for celebrating! 2023 was a pretty good year for me, and that warranted opening something memorable. So on Christmas Eve I opened the Château de Chaintres 1989 Saumur-Champigny, and on New Year’s Eve I opened the Alain et Jérôme Lenoir 1989 Chinon “Les Roches.”

The 1989 vintage is widely regarded as one of the best vintages (if not the best vintage) of the 1980s for Loire Valley Cabernet Franc. According to Richard Kelley MW’s blog, 1989 was “considered the vintage of the generation and some commentators claim it as the vintage of the century. It was certainly the best year since 1964.” It was as perfect a vintage if there ever was one. There was no frost, flowering happened at precisely the right moment, the summer was very warm, sunny and dry, producing wines with great phenolic development, structure and concentration that could go the distance and reward with cellaring.

One might think that it would be difficult for the average consumer to get their hands on an ‘89 vintage Cabernet Franc from the Loire. Sure, relative to current releases, it isn’t a piece of cake, but it is not impossible - nor ridiculously expensive. Fortunately for us, because of the exceptional quality of the vintage, many domaines tucked bottles aside for future release. I purchased the 1989 Château de Chaintres at the LCBO in the spring of 2021 for $100CAD. It was a cellar release direct from the domaine after a 30+ year hibernation in their tuffeau cellars. Later that year, I purchased a few bottles of Couly-Duthiel’s 1989 Chinon ‘Clos de l’Olive’ via Somm Select, which was another cellar release, for the ludicrously low price of $68USD. The Lenoir? Well, that was a generous gift. I realize that Lenoir Chinon is unequivocally a bit of a unicorn wine, BUT it does make appearances in retail (in the US, UK and France) and in auction circles, so not entirely impossible to find if you know where to look.

Having enjoyed these wines a week apart, the memory of the Saumur-Champigny was still quite vivid by the time I had the Chinon, and these wines couldn’t be more different in the glass, which is really what prompted this post. Was it terroir? Was it winemaking? Based on my tasting experience, I would suggest that both come into play here.

From a bird’s eye view, these were two 34-year-old Loire Cabernet Francs, both coming from tuffeau chalk-derived soils, both clocking in at 12.5% alcohol. And that is where the similarities end.

Grown about 18km (11mi) apart, the Saumur-Champigny would’ve been a selection from the entire Château de Chaintres vineyard, which is a true walled clos of about 15 hectares. Located around the hamlet of Chaintres in the southern part of the Dampierre-sur-Loire commune, the clos is on a gentle south-facing slope, predominantly on craie verte (a version of the Middle Turonian white tuffeau), with a shallow topsoil that is a bit of a mixed bag of textures, but the majority would be characterized as clay-sandy loam. Based on my knowledge of the site and region, I would classify this as a warmer site for Cabernet Franc, and 1989 being a warmer vintage, I suspect there would’ve been very good ripeness across the board. While the winemaking records aren’t entirely clear, it is my understanding that this wine would’ve been built for aging, as was often how things were done back then. Press wine would’ve certainly been used (less common today), vinified and aged in stainless steel, with a short élevage of 7 to 9 months to preserve the fruit. The estate said that the production volume would’ve been likely around 10,000 bottles.

Now, for Monsieur Lenoir’s Chinon. The entire surface of this domaine is about 3 hectares, of which all is planted with Cabernet Franc but for 25 are of Chenin. The domaine and vines are located in the lieu-dit Les Roches at the northern end of the commune of Beaumont-en-Véron. Actually, for those that are curious, the vines are tucked up a couple hundred metres northwest of Les Picasses. Here, the parcels slope gently north, and the bedrock is the Upper Turonian yellow tuffeau, with a shallow topsoil that is mostly sand. Knowing what I know of Les Picasses, and in particular Olga Raffault’s bottling, I had some idea what I might expect from this wine from a “terroir” perspective. With regards to winemaking, I have not visited this domaine, but from my readings of what little information is online about the estate, the vinification takes place in open-top wooden vats with 3 to 4 weeks maceration time, and very long aging in a combination of casks and foudres. When I say very long aging, I mean typically 3 to 6 years in barrel depending on the vintage, followed by very long aging in bottle. Wines are released sporadically to the market, often no less than 10 years from the vintage date, and not generally in chronological order. The youngest vintage I’ve come across in the wild of late is 2011.

So, how did these two wines stack up? The Château de Chaintres presented in a beautifully classic way. Leading with concentrated darker, dried berried fruits, an earthy mix of sturdy herbs (think: thyme), dried violets, cedar wood, mix mushrooms, leather and potting soil. You could feel the sunshine of the vintage. The palate was incredibly structured, even after 34 years, with quite a lot of density and power. I got the sense that in its youth, this wine would’ve been rather monolithic, even a bit hedonistic (if that’s possible for a 12.5% abv wine), and quite unapproachable. But time tamed the beast. The tannins were beautifully uniform and graceful, with a crushed velvet texture, and were woven together seamlessly with the fruit. Not an element was out of place. Complete, humble, honest with no pomp and circumstance. The wine exuded warmth and effusiveness; it was welcoming and heartfelt.

I would describe the ‘89 Château de Chaintres experience as being all about the palate. While the nose was perfumed, open and complex, the wine’s charms truly came through in the textural and structural interplay between the fruit, acid and tannin. Even with more than three decades of age, the energy of the palate, integrity of the fruit and enveloping tannins, gave this wine a moreish character and an approachability that begged you to keep going back to the glass for another sip.

If the Château de Chaintres was about the palate, the Lenoir was almost entirely an olfactory experience. This wine had a nose that was so compelling, so haunting, it nearly stopped me in my tracks. It was intensely fragrant with a perfume that was almost entirely void of fruit (in the best possible way) the entire time I was drinking it (I enjoyed about 3/4 of the bottle over about 4 hours). On the nose, the wine was like walking into a tuffeau cellar in the Loire - it was like chalk on chalk on chalk. Layers of chalk, with decaying violets and rose petals, damp earth, mushroom, dried wispy herbs, with an intoxicating spice profile (a mélange of clove, star anise and cardamon) and a flicker of dried cranberry (if you went searching for it). The nose was so gorgeous, I honestly didn’t even want to take a sip (very unlike me!). I wanted nothing more than to smell this wine for as long as possible. The palate was all about nervy acidity, and fineness and finesse of the tannin structure. The acidity, remarkably for its age and the vintage, still presented with a degree of austerity. The palate had an ornate, fine-boned tannin structure. Imagine a piece of lace - intricate, detailed, seemingly light as a feather, but densely woven. This combination of acidity and tannin structure would’ve likely made the wine quite unyielding in its youth, but on NYE it gave me more than I could’ve ever hope for.

I recognize that not everyone has been able to taste Lenoir Chinon, so I will do my best to convey my experience with this 1989, which is in line with other vintages of Lenoir that I’ve had. While enticing and thought-provoking, the wine always seems to have this cold (in terms of temperament) and guarded energy about it. It can be a bit aloof and recluse, but I suppose that’s part of its character and adds to its mysteriousness. These are the things that pull you in. While I love Cabernet Francs that are convivial and companionable, I find myself drawn to Lenoir Chinon for being the exact opposite. It challenges me and delights me just the same.

As I look back on it, I don’t think I could’ve matched these wines more perfectly to the scenario in which they were enjoyed. The Château de Chaintres was enjoyed on Christmas Eve over dinner with my mom and her partner; eating, laughing, chatting, with Christmas songs echoing in the background, a fire crackling in the fireplace. The wine was centre stage, generously giving you everything you needed, while never demanding anything of you in return. I enjoyed the Lenoir on New Year’s Eve - quite happily alone. I made a lavish meal for one, and in a contemplative, year-end state of mind, with no expectations or agenda, I gave the Lenoir the time and space to do what it needed to do. It shared. I listened. Absorbing all of its wisdom, laying the groundwork on which to build in the year ahead.