A couple of nights ago I opened a bottle of Chateau Plincette 2002, a Pomerol I bought in the Leclerc supermarket’s wine fair last October and therefore prior to my increased interest in Bordeaux’s wines.  I almost certainly based the purchase on the write-up in the little magazine published to accompnay the wine fair, allied to its price (around 13 euros, as I remember it).

Based on what I know now, of course, I’d have avoided the wine!  2002 wasn’t a great vintage and, to be honest, 13 euros is rather too little to be paying for a Pomerol of decent quality.  Alarm bells would have rung.  So why am I so pleased to have the best part of a dozen bottles still sitting in the cave?  Because, my friends, I could taste the fact that it wasn’t a great wine, which is something I reckon I couldn’t have done three months ago.  The nose didn’t show any of the fruity explosion I’ve come to expect from Right Bank wines; in the mouth it was weak, rather watery and a little rough around the edges. 

So, as a mark of my progress towards a greater understanding of wine, I’m really chuffed. 

It’s probably not worth me asking if there’s anyone out there that fancies half a dozen bottles of a classic Pomerol from an underrated vintage, is it?

Thought not.

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