Things are changing in Bordeaux.

The red wines of Bordeaux were my first love.  Initially, because of Hugh Johnson, one of the best (if not the best) wine writers of the past forty plus years, and secondly because of Robert M. Parker, who created the 100 point rating system. 

Johnson stirred my interest (in his first book titled Wine) when he described Bordeaux wines, quite simply, as being “beautiful,” much like great art or mood-moving music. And Parker completed the attention grab with his effusively written, bi-monthly wine reviews, particularly the 1982 Bordeaux critique.

But my heart sank when I saw this headline in a recent Decanter magazine article: “Bordeaux gives the go ahead for new grapes.”  Because of the inexorable march of global warming, France’s national appellation body is looking to six new grapes, (four red, two white) “to mitigate the impact of climate change without diluting the identity of Bordeaux wines.”

Bordeaux aficionados know that the five main red grapes that underlie the various, and stylistically different appellations (as well as the individual Chateaux) are Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot and Malbec. I may be overreacting, but the thought of messing with those grapes, and potentially altering the aromas, flavors and overall outcome is a bit distressing. 

Nevertheless, it’s important to note that, as Bob Dylan has alerted us, “The Times They Are a-Changin’,” and I, like others must move on.  My Internet surfing reveals that studies and research began ten years before announcing the new grapes.  It also included viticultural changes like limiting leaf thinning, reducing plant density, delayed pruning, and night harvesting.  It was only a matter of time before the vinicultural modifications were introduced. 

The new four red varieties selected are Touriga Nacional, Castets, Arinarnoa and Marselan. The first is a well known Port based variety, and the last is a cross between Cabernet Sauvignon and Grenache Noir that is selling well in China. The middle two are obscure, dark skinned, French varieties.  The two white varieties selected were Portugal’s Alvarinho and Lilorila.

All were selected for their solid structure, strong aromatics, high acidity and ability to resist certain vine diseases.  However, this is not a wholesale takeover; they are limited to ten percent of the final blend, and should represent no more than five percent of vineyard plantings.  In a sense, these are new options in the winemaker’s toolbox. 

But unlike Burgundy, with its strict limitations, Bordeaux is a flexible blend, which, in addition to other winemaking options, provides a great deal of latitude in crafting the final mix.  Much like New World labelling laws, France’s do not require complete disclosure of all grapes used in the final blend. The “tweaking,” as it were, will go unnoticed by most wine drinkers.

However, it would be disingenuous of me to imply that the Bordeaux of today is identical to the Bordeaux of yesteryear, for it is not.  When Bordeaux was sending shiploads of wine in the 1300s to England, it was nothing more than a simple, Rose-like quaff from grapes of unknown lineage and provenance. The French called it Clairete, and it evolved to Claret for the British, where it still is their favored term for Bordeaux.  

Finally, while Bordeaux is no longer the focus of my purchasing strategy, I still have a select few bottles from various vintages. Some are on their plateau of maturity; they have been a joy to sniff, sip and savor.  Others, needing a bit more shelf time, will handsomely repay my patience.  They too will evolve into suave and elegant pours, and, yes, (if I may pilfer the descriptor), into something quite beautiful.