Tasting the land over time Siran wines

2005, 2003, 2001, 1999, 1989, 1959. No, you are not being asked to find the next number in the sequence or find the formula. This is not an intelligence test.

These are the vintages of Siran wines I tasted at the Commanderie de Bordeaux Jakarta Chapter dinner held Jan. 23, 2009 at the Park Lane Hotel's Riva bistro in Jakarta, to celebrate the Miailhe family's 150 years of ownership of the Siran estate.

It turned out that the two 2005 Siran served during the predinner cocktail were not Chateau Siran, as I had assumed. But I was not far off, at least geographically. The first was a St. Jacques de Siran 2005, a Bordeaux sup*rieur wine. The second came from the Chateau Siran's second label, S de Siran, a certified Margaux wine (meaning it carries the appelation of that region within Bordeaux). Nevertheless, the two were very good in their respective categories when tasted in their due order. The first had a nice aroma of ripe blackcurrant and sun-dried chili in a jute bag, spicier than the second, but lacking in structure.

The second was much better built, far more concentrated, delicious with dark chocolate flavors and pleasant, tooth-coating tannins that left me no longer taken by my first flirtation of the evening. A gentleman standing next to me, however, liked the first better, saying it reminded him of a Shiraz.

One conclusion of the evening was that 2005 was an extraordinary vintage as reported. (It scored 98 out of 100 on Robert Parker's vintage chart!)

When I asked owner Edouard Miailhe whether the 2005 Chateau Siran would taste more or less the same as his second label, he said it was rather unlikely.

The second label contains 85 percent merlot and no petit verdot while the 2005 Chateau Siran is composed of 51 percent merlot, 34 percent cabernet sauvignon and 15 percent petit verdot.

All the wines poured after the first two were Chateau Siran frontrunners decanted at 7 p.m. Tasted soon after, the 2003 was toasty, spicy, dark and fresh, even fruity with some sweet aftertaste.

The ripe tannins of this wine pleasantly washed down the fat and matched the gaminess of the appetizer, a country-style venison pat*. But alas, the glass in which it was served was a Burgundy white glass. "It makes it easier for the serving staff to identify which wine goes into which glass," one waiter told me. The 2001 was the best wine of the evening as I expected. This dark, delicious, silky, well-balanced wine had more depth than the 2003 and gave a refined, spicy finish. Its bouquet at first reminded me of a smoky and woody floral perfume and led into whiffs of cake, toffee and a dash of mint.

The 1999 was very alluring to the point of flattery, a true reflection of Michel Rolland's signature hedonistic merlot style. Made from 54 percent merlot and 36 percent cabernet sauvignon, it was persistently delicious on its own even when imbibed without food.

The 1989, on the contrary, was a gamey, "as-is", old-fashioned food wine with tannins present in the back and some notes of raw bamboo shoots. Made from 35 percent merlot and 45 percent cabernet sauvignon, it went well with the main course: tender braised lamb in ragout, a simple dish which helped underscore the beauty of the wines.

When sipped without food, the 1989 tasted somewhat bare and earthy, and as the night wore on, it started to shut itself down with a light finish. One noticeable aspect of the surprisingly savory and fresh 1959 was its youthfully bright acidity, which went hand in hand with the acidity in the stunningly wonderful, delicious Bethmale AOC, a cow's milk cheese from the Pyren*es which disappeared 50 years ago but has recently been resurrected under the loving hands of Philippe Olivier.

However, being a matron of 50, the 1959 had a very delicate constitution, which could easily be perceived as "thin" and easily upset by rigorous swirling, which perhaps explains why some diners told me they found it "dead".

With some sweetness on its rim, the 1959 had an interesting aromatic profile. I found stewed meat, eucalyptus, white truffle and fermented Chinese oranges in the bouquet. Edouard said 1959 was the best vintage from the 1950s, not as good as but close to the renowned 1961 vintage. That harvest took place on Sept. 20, 1959, he added.

"The summer in 1959 *in Europe* was very warm," recalled Staffan Synnerstrom, one of the diners. The Swede was 12 back then. Great vintages are often heralded by a warm summer. Blessed are they who, despite their advanced age, always maintain a warm summer in their hearts.