Labet - Trousseau Les Chaseaux 2019

Fortunately, you can’t see how I’m somehow trying to shine enough light on the bottle while half-hidden under the table with a lamp, so that the label is still somewhat readable despite the candle in the background. The image-making setup here is very amateurish, without a lightbox or other photo magic. The early darkness and the single window behind the bottle are often more challenging than I’d like, and often the ability to raise the shadows in the RAW file saves the image. With an 11-year-old DSLR, yes still with a mirror, there are quickly limits to this. Given that, I’m very happy with the result. Christmas wine with a christmas photo. One day too early, but I’m happy about that too. The Christmas season is always more of a marathon than a leisurely walk.

This bottle hasn’t run a marathon yet, but it has certainly covered some distance. In recent years, we’ve repeatedly drunk some wonderful wines from Trousseau, but we haven’t observed any of them through maturity, and I can’t remember ever having a matured one at all. A quick search in the archive here also confirms the dark premonition that this bottle is celebrating its grape variety premiere on the blog today. So nothing to draw on in terms of prior experience there either. Trousseau is not necessarily the variety you often have in your glass. I actually only know it, like this bottle, from the Jura. Wikipedia says, however, that the largest stock of the grape variety disappears into Port wine in Portugal under the name Bastardo. A portion of niche knowledge to annoy wine friends. You’re welcome. What ultimately makes me look forward to bottle aging more relaxed is the winery on the label. Everything I’ve had in my glass from Labet so far has been wonderful. Also and especially with a few years under its belt. Well, there really wasn’t that much so far, which is due to the fact that Labet is one of those unicorn wineries that you’re only allowed to purchase every blue moon, and only if the moon is in the right position on that day. Good for those who have a moon calendar. I’m not one of them, but I’m known to click quickly. The reds seem to enjoy slightly less popularity than the whites, so that even with a medium-fast clicking finger, you have a chance of it hitting the shopping cart. The Labet bottles are always quite informative on the back label (yes, I know, actually the front label, who cares). The vines were planted in 2016, stand at 245 meters altitude on limestone and Lias marl, and the grapes were harvested on September 18, 2019. Aged in small oak barrels, bottled in June 2020, 3 grams of total acidity, 1 gram of volatile acidity, and less than 7mg of sulfur in total.

The color does scare me briefly though. Very light, which bothers me less, but also distinctly ochre. Often not a particularly good sign. Hopefully it hasn’t secretly departed. Fortunately, it hasn’t. The nose is beautiful, with a lot of real cherry mixed with a touch of artificial red cherry candy, slightly mushy berries, and some spices. Surprisingly clear, fresh, and with just enough volatile acidity that you can smell it, but it doesn’t really clash anywhere. And behind that, a touch of funk. When drinking, you feel the volatile more clearly, but it always remains on the side of the border where I want to pour myself another glass. The fruit then lays down to sleep on the tongue for a long time and becomes even more fruit gummy than it already was, before texture and acidity close the door even later. There happens to be pasta with bacon and tomatoes, and it’s actually even better with that than solo. It is, after all, somehow a rustic wine. And the bacon, or rather the fat from it, buffers the acidity well, the smoke from the bacon and the cherry complement each other wonderfully, and you have the feeling that a touch of fruit sweetness comes into play from somewhere, which isn’t there at all when drunk solo. Quite delicious. But, and this is part of the truth, I can’t really shake the feeling that a bottle of local red from Kleines Gut or something like it wouldn’t be that far off. And much easier to get.

Overnight, the Trousseau gains an ethereal wood spice. Sandalwood, cedar, the wood you put in small plates in the closet to repel moths. There’s a bit of lavender, cinnamon stick, and vanilla pod. It’s actually gotten much better with that one day of air. On the tongue, you now find the wine somewhere between vermouth and amaro, with cherry and without tannin. Negroni without the orange. And without the high alcohol, of course. Something really happened there. And nothing has fallen apart either, quite the contrary, the volatile acidity has completely disappeared, no mousy taint, less dirt. You’re rewarded with unexpectedly much depth and complexity for this night of patience. I’m surprised. Sure, it says Labet on the paper, but natural red wine from the Jura simply has the tendency to fall apart completely overnight. I often have the desire to empty the wine on the first evening except for a tiny glass. I’m glad I didn’t do that here. It’s such a much better wine today. Somehow crazy. It’s still ochre by the way. Color can often be so irrelevant.

We’ll spare ourselves the secondary market price discussion. Even there, red is not quite as crazy as white, but it’s still madness. And even from the winery, the prices have apparently risen quite a bit, even for fast-clicking fingers. And I can’t quite shake off the ambivalence. On the first evening, it was good solo. No more. No less. With food, it was fantastic, but a Schwabenmagnum or another well made Trollinger would have been that too. On the second evening, it was fantastic again. Without any food. And fantastic in a way that I find it hard to dig up something similar in my head. And so in the end, I’m very happy with my Christmas wine selection, with this bottle of Trousseau from the Jura. A great wine. I hope you have an equally great Christmas!

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