The Case of the Missing Cask: A Spirits Geek Mystery
Where has my barrel pick gone? Also: A new German wine law and a sense place. And: Is cabernet franc the new signature grape of the Finger Lakes?
“Taste has no system and no proofs,” cultural critic Susan Sontag once remarked. In his 19th century gourmand treatise, Physiology of Taste, Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin writes, “the space between something called good and something reputed to be excellent is not very great.” Old Nietzsche famously declared: “All of life is a dispute over taste and tasting.” Which is my roundabout way of saying something we all know: Tasting, evaluating, and recommending is a dark art. And perhaps it goes without saying: Tasting comes with an ego.
All of which is my roundabout way of telling you about that strange time, a couple of years ago, when I released my very own barrel pick of Armagnac. This was during a time when I was trying to get another newsletter, Brandy Advocate, off the ground. To be clear, Brandy Advocate never got off the ground. (Maybe 2025 will be brandy’s year?)
Anyway, my Brandy Advocate barrel pick was a limited-release, 23-year-old selection from the négociant L’Encantada, labeled 1997 Domaine Cutxan (Cask #20). Yes, instead of only being a critic on the sideline, I was putting my own palate out into the world to be evaluated and judged. I had a retail partner based in Chicago, and offered 204 bottles for sale.
Beyond the obvious reasons for getting into the barrel-pick business (money, spirits-geek cred) there was also very much a philosophical position I was staking out with this particular barrel of 1997 Domaine Cutxan. We might go as far as to say this selection was a flaming arrow shot over the ramparts of the current taste trends in spirits connoisseurship.
In the autumn of 2021, I found myself — along with an amiable group of collectors, fans, importers, distributors, and retailers — at the 10th anniversary celebration of L’Encantada, the Armagnac negociant based in Vic-Fezensac.
I tasted around 50 barrels, most of which were from Domaine Cutxan, an estate, from which Vincent Cornu, L’Encantada’s unicorn hunter, recently acquired the stocks. Cutxan is a lieu-dit near the town of Cazaubon in the heart of Bas Armagnac. The winemaking family here produced excellent Armagnac for years, but recently made the decision to sell its stocks and focus on their vineyards and wine. Vincent Cornu—in whose palate many collectors have put their trust—thinks these Cutxan stocks rival his very best.
The soaring popularity of L’Encantada releases is undeniable. One could make the case that bottlings of L’Encantada from estates such as Lous Pibous and La Frêche have become something like the “Pappy Van Winkles of Armagnac.” They are defining the image of of the spirit, especially to high-end American brandy aficionados.
But as the enthusiasm for expressions like Lous Pibous and La Frêche spreads, and we see more and more barrel picks, a certain flavor profile of Armagnac has emerged as dominant, one that frankly leans too much in the direction of bourbon. I get it: A lot of the eager new converts to brandy are coming from the bourbon world. But I think things have gone too far. I’ve expressed my feelings about this trend before, in a piece for this newsletter titled “Brandy Does Not Want To Be Whiskey,” in which I quote Nicolas Palazzi of importer PM Spirits:
“There’s more Armagnac being sold, but it’s a very specific kind of Armagnac sold to a specific kind of buyer,” says Palazzi. “We’re talking about Armagnac that’s very extracted, heavier on the wood, more powerful, more vanilla. So it’s not very different than the whiskey that people are drinking. We’re selling a lot less classical Armagnac.”
It is no secret that I personally prefer a more classic, old-school style of brandy. I certainly enjoy cask-strength bottlings, many with alcohol by volume pushing up to 47% to 50% or more—and I understand that whiskey-like or rum-like alcohol levels are in vogue. But I believe there’s way too much focus on abv as a quality indicator. There are many many beautiful Armagnacs with an abv of 41% to 43%, or even lower.
To challenge taste perceptions, our barrel of L’Encantada 1997 Domaine Cutxan (Cask #20) clocked in at 40.4% abv. Yep, just a .4% above that bogeyman 40% abv level. Yes indeed, that was the cask strength of this barrel—not watered back—aged on the lower racks of a very humid cellar. When L’Encantada acquired this barrel, Vincent swiftly took it out of barrel, to store in glass demijohn. That natural alcohol evaporation led to incredible flavor concentration.
Tasting this unique cask immediately blew me away, elegantly unraveling its flavors and aromas: plum, dried flower, dried herb, saffron, turmeric, spice bazaar, antique furniture, old library; classic, textbook rancio; a varnishy, nutty, Szechuan peppercorny finish that goes on for miles. This is a shape-shifter that evolves every time you take a sip. This is a brandy that whispers in a sultry voice instead of shouting.
Something that’s not discussed nearly enough among Armagnac fans is the wine, the grapes, the raw ingredient that’s distilled to make the brandy. Around here, we always talk about the grapes. This 1997 Domaine Cutxan cask was distilled from 100% Baco, which is significant.
Baco is a hybrid of Folle Blanche and the North American grape Noah, created in the late 19th century to withstand the phylloxera plague (the technical name is Baco 22A). For most of the 20th century, Baco was the backbone upon which long-aged Armagnac rested. One importer calls Baco “the American muscle car of grapes” that can take decades of oak in a way that’s different than Ugni Blanc or Folle Blanche.
But at the end of the 20th century, there was a problem. As France joined the European Union, hybrid grapes were banned from official appellations. Throughout the 1990s, the French government decreed that Baco should be uprooted by 2010. Throughout the 2000s, there was a lot of heated debate over the fate of Baco. Many smaller producers, trying to gauge the climate, ripped out their Baco vines in favor of Folle Blanche or Ugni Blanc. Ultimately, a group of influential French sommeliers lobbied the EU on behalf of the grape, and the issue was resolved: Baco prevailed and is now the only hybrid grape permitted in a European wine or spirit appellation. Still, during that time of uncertainty in the 2000s, a lot of Baco was uprooted.
Of the 50 barrels of Cutxan that I tasted in L’Encantada’s cellars, dating from 1995 to 2006, there was a remarkable, profound difference between the barrels from the late 1990s and the ones from the early 2000s. As always in Armagnac and Cognac, I was given no (read: literally zero) information about the barrels as we tasted.
The only thing I could go on was my own palate, and then work backwards toward knowledge. Only months later (only after we actually bought the barrel) we were told that all 1990s Domaine Cutxan barrels were 100% Baco. Meanwhile, we were told that 2000s Cutxan casks (which I wasn’t a fan of) were blends with mostly Ugni Blanc. Many of the 2000s Cutxan taste too much like that bourbon-leaning Armagnac of which I’m not a huge fan. Cue Nietzsche.
Maybe this all seems really nerdy—or maybe some real Wes Anderson stuff—but these things matter. If value lies in scarcity or long-aging or traditional-versus-modern styles, then we should be talking more about these complexities.
Anyway, so why am I writing about all this now, almost two years after my barrel pick went on sale? Well, that’s because the other night, I was enjoying the last drops of my L’Encantada 1997 Domaine Cutxan (Cask #20). This is where the real mystery emerges.
It’s no secret that Armangac is hard to sell, and our was no different. My retail partner in Chicago and I sold a few dozen bottles when it launched, but sales were hard to come by. I’d chalked it up as a learning experience.
Fast forward to a few months later, when I went to buy a few bottles as gifts. Suddenly my barrel selection was unavailable. My retail partner told me they’d sold off whatever 1997 Cutxan Cask #20 was left—dozens of bottles at a discount deep enough that I didn’t see any cut. This came as a big surprise to me, and I’m still pretty unhappy about it. I would have liked to have known someone was swooping in to buy all of the remaining bottles of our special Armagnac.
For about two years now, I’ve been searching websites and the secondary market for bottles of my mysterious, low-proof, Brandy Advocate Selection. Where did it all go? Perhaps a few select collectors or retailers are squirreling them away for rainy day? Are they sitting in some dusty warehouse, or in a billionaire’s cave? Who knows! Help!
If anyone has a bead on where I can find my own barrel pick, please drop a comment below!
German Wine Law, And Why Place Matters
Over at The New Wine Review, I wrote about an esoteric bit of wine-nerd news. Last month, the German Winegrowers’ Association presented a draft of what will become a vineyard classification system for all German wine:
“Specifically, it sets out criteria for designating special sites as “Erstes Gewächs” and “Großes Gewächs” (essentially Premier and Grand Crus) for vineyards that meet the highest level of quality. Each region’s wine association will create their own regulations, and assemble a panel of experts to which winegrowers can submit vineyards for consideration. According to the German wine publication Wein.Plus, “in addition to other factors, the tasting of five vintages of the wine applied for by experts and the bottle price achieved in the past will also play a role.” This framework of quality will soon become part of the nation’s notoriously strict wine law. Yes, this all sounds very German.”
I thought this was really interesting, given what seems to be a declining interest in a sense of place—or terroir—among everyday wine consumers:
“These days, in the middle of a worldwide wine crisis, it’s never been tougher to sell wine based on place. In fact, over the past couple of years, I’ve observed that a certain type of wine influencer/educator has begun to steer completely clear of talk about terroir. At the low end, the focus is on a certain populism focused on, say, wine in cans or alternative packaging. But much of the higher-end natural wine chatter also avoids a deep discussion of place. While the best natural-wine producers are committed terroirists, a lot of the derivative, middling natty wine talk is way more about winemaking technique and philosophy—which are similar whether we’re talking about Sicily, Loire, Oregon, or elsewhere. After all, you can make “zero/zero” wine anywhere.”
When the changes to the German wine law were announced, VDP president Steffen Christmann, in an interview with Wein.Plus, spoke to a fundamental problem that the wine world now faces: How to talk to consumers about which wines from which vineyards are worth more money. “Wine lovers basically have a hard time finding their way around,” he said. “I feel the same way myself. In my private wine cellar, I sometimes have to write the prices of the wines of my fellow winegrowers on the bottles to know to which level a wine with a fancy name belongs.”
As I concluded in The New Wine Review:
“Look, I am a committed terroirist. I believe a sense of place is among the most important things in wine. But I also know that it’s not an easy thing for many American wine drinkers to understand. If Christmann, one Pfalz’s top winemakers, is confused by the quality-price ratio of wines from various vineyard sites in his own corner of the world—what hope is there for the rest of us?"“
Will Cabernet Franc Become The Most Important Grape In The Finger Lakes?
I had a chance to visit the Finger Lakes before the holidays. Although the Finger Lakes is well known as a white-wine region, I was really taken by the reds I tasted, specifically the cabernet franc. I wrote about the evolution of the region’s red wine in The New Wine Review:
[T]he biggest shift in the Finger Lakes—both now and over the next decade—is the continuing evolution from a white wine to a red wine region. The star red grape is obvious: Cabernet Franc. And, given the popularity of Cabernet Franc wines from the Loire Valley, and consumer demand for more savory, drinkable, and less oaky wines, what a perfect time for Finger Lakes Cab Franc to be coming into its own.
I’ve been writing about the emergence of Finger Lakes Cabernet Franc for at least five years. I can remember, in 2019, tasting a stunning mini-vertical of Cabernet Franc dating back to 2006 with Steve Shaw of Shaw Vineyard. Even then, almost every top producer had a solid-to-very-good Cabernet Franc. Five years later, I can find more than a dozen extraordinary examples…
…In the past, an issue with the region’s Cabernet Franc was the impulse to steer away from the more herbaceous, or “greener” notes that are typical of the variety, which result from prevalent methoxypyrazine compounds. The solution in the Finger Lakes, too often, was to over-oak Cabernet Franc, rendering it indistinguishable from other reds.
Obviously, too much green character is a problem, but this fresh, savory element is something that enthusiasts of Cabernet Franc from the Loire enjoy. As I always tell Cab Franc skeptics: “black olive” and “cherry tomato”—often tasting notes in Cab Franc—are just as much fruits as plum and blackberry. These days, there’s much more appreciation for these flavors and aromas among consumers, and winemakers are less inclined to shy away from them.
This is not to say that Finger Lakes Cabernet Franc is an imitation of the Loire Valley. Not at all. Léana Godard, winemaker at Forge Cellars., who’s worked in France, insists: “The potential for Finger Lakes Cabernet Franc is huge. It needs to be put on the wine map—but put on the map properly.”
Check out the article, along with tasting notes on 14 Finger Lakes cabernet franc at The New Wine Review.
I'm guilty on this one - I bought one bottle at launch (from the retail partner you obliquely mentioned), loved it, then bought a second shortly after. Then, when the remaining bottles went on sale, I bought two more.
I drank through one, and am halfway through the second, but I'd be more than happy to send one of the two remaining sealed bottles your way. Let me know if there's a way to DM you to coordinate!
Loved this bottle at release and continued to drink through those I bought. Sad to be down to my last ~1/3 bottle with no chance of a reup.