After retasting some of the top wines of the vintage, Michael Schuster confirms his initial impression of 2020 Bordeaux as more variable than 2019, and he still characterizes the style of the reds as “a rich, climate-warmed classicism.” Here he summarizes his original en primeur report, before handing over the primary responsibility for this year’s tasting of the finished wines to Simon Field MW and Andrew Jefford, who add their comments and notes on worldoffinewine.com tomorrow.
For 18 years, from 2003 to 2020 (a period of sea changes in climate and winemaking ideals), I wrote up the latest Bordeaux vintage en primeur for The World of Fine Wine, followed by a review, after three years, of the wines in bottle—this current exercise. For health reasons, I can no longer manage large tastings, so for the first time I have not been able to retaste the vintage in bottle with Andrew Jefford. There is a very small handful of notes that I did earlier in the year, but this is now Andrew’s and Simon’s exercise. You couldn’t be in better hands. What follows is a shortened version of my en primeur report on the vintage in 2021.
The growing season: Complicated
At budbreak, in mid- to late March, 2020 started off around two weeks early. This advance was gradually eaten into over the season, so that in the end, harvest was just over a week ahead of the norm. This was a significant blessing on this occasion, since heavy and persistent rain (Storm Alex) set in over the first week of October, by which time, unusually, the vast majority of properties had completed their red-wine harvest.
The year continued the recent climate-change trend, with extreme weather events across the season, be it rainfall, drought, high temperatures, or sunshine. It was a very hot year. There were few extreme heat spikes, but only March and June had cumulatively “average” temperatures; all the other months, from April to September, were among the hottest on record, with average maximum temperatures 3.6–5.4°F (2–3°C) above the long-term norm—12.6°F (7°C) above, in the case of August. July was one of the driest on record, August one of the hottest, mid-April to mid-May among the wettest. Extremes indeed. Only frost was not a widespread issue this year.
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Winter
2020 began, as has happened since 2016, with the absence of a real winter and noticeably mild seasonal temperatures. There was little frost in January and February, and average minimum temperatures in January, February, April, and May were several degrees warmer than the 1981–2010 norm. March was particularly chaotic and topsy-turvy, with heavy rain in the first week, a most unseasonal 64–75°F (18–24°C) in the second half of the month (encouraging the early budbreak and consequent possible exposure to frost), frost in the Médoc hinterland and in Castillon (Joanin Bécot lost half its crop) during the last week of the month, and temperatures 21.6°F (12°C) below the norm to finish the month.
Spring: Grim
April was the third hottest for 50 years, leading to rapid development of the vine’s shoots; it was also notably wet during the last two weeks. The first half of May, too, was particularly sodden, and the first three weeks of June were similarly wetter and cloudier. It all set the scene for a perfect May/June mildew storm.
At least, as in 2018 and 2016, there was a warm, dry, almost rain-free interval over the last two weeks of May and the first week of June, which allowed for a largely even, problem-free flowering for most properties, with little millerandage or coulure. A welcome relief, then, in this mostly miserable spell.
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Where the mildew was concerned, one has to remember that in 2018 there hadn’t been an attack on this scale for more than 30 years. And it was the hard-learned lessons from 2018 that meant the potential damage was so much better contained in 2020. The simplest watchword was that you had to keep on top of it daily. Marielle Cazaux (La Conseillante) ruefully observed that, “In the end, your most expensive treatment is the one you omit to do.” Better contained than 2018 as mildew was, there were still losses, as shown by the year’s lower yield.
Summer: Hot and dry… and finally wet just when required
Summer began on June 19, when it finally stopped raining. There followed the lowest July rainfall and, for most of Bordeaux, the longest almost entirely rain-free period in memory: nearly eight weeks of drought, the driest summer for a century. There were few heat spikes as such, with the only, brief, heatwave in the second week of August. Nights, too, were relatively cool for this eight-week period, hovering around 60–62°F (15–17°C). Finally, the abundant spring rainfall had so generously replenished the water table that it now enabled the vineyards to weather the drought comfortably, and with sufficient hydric stress to initiate veraison (color change) over the last week of July and the first ten days of August.
But lack of excess hydric stress notwithstanding, the vines and vineyards were, of course, getting thirsty for a bit of “top” watering, too. At which point, August obliged. After 2020’s single summer heatwave, with temperatures above 86°F (30°C) across the second week, spiking at 104°F (40°C) on August 8, the middle of the month saw a week of massive post-heatwave thunderstorms—storms of truly tropical proportions, but very localized, and haphazardly spread across the week of August 9–16. These August rains were a counterbalancing, vintage-defining tipping point to the season. And a benefit of the rain and cloud cover was a return to cooler conditions, day and night, over the last ten days of the month, conducive to a more measured ripening of the red wines.
Harvest
Considering its relative brevity, the harvest turned out pretty well (Sauternes excepted). It was an early harvest, with most fruit picked by the end of September. The warm, dry first half of the month provided ideal weather for picking perfectly ripe Merlot. However, the cooler, sometimes wetter second half of the month made it seem trickier to pick quite as consistently fully ripened Cabernets, and the picking conditions were very far from ideal for the development of fine botrytis across the autumn for the sweet wines.
Sauternes/Barsac
For Sauternes, another autumn of woe, where the weather pattern precluded the development of quality botrytis to any extent. A very small crop here, with a small handful of standout wines for those who could afford to wait, but more that are in a slender, if fine, apéritif style.
Red wines
After August’s redeeming rains, an unusual September really made the red-wine vintage.
Coupled with the seasonal advance of, by now, eight days or so, it was September 2020’s very particular conditions that allowed the red harvest to be picked—attractively ripe, almost entirely, and most unusually—before the end of the month. It was unseasonably dry and hot for the first 16 days of the month, with barely a drop of rain until September 21, and daytime temperatures around 80–84°F (27–29°C) for the first week, then over 86°F (30°C) until September 16–17. Nighttime temperatures, by contrast, were seasonally cool, between 50 and 59°F (10–15°C) for the first week, then between 59 and 68°F (15–20°C) during the subsequent hot spell, a regular 27°F (15°C) diurnal/nocturnal difference. It did rain over the last ten days of the month, but the rains were not heavy, by no means every day, and this period was marked by a conspicuous decrease in temperatures to a more seasonal norm.
What did all this mean for the ripening of the red grapes this year? The absence of rain, daytime heat, and drying east winds allowed for a final flush of ripening, and a modest concentration in the juice of the relatively large Merlot berries just before harvest. Those conditions also stimulated the ripening of both Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Sauvignon after the cooler end to August, allowing the majority of the fruit to continue to mature, in respect of both pulp and skins. The cool nights, in particular, refreshed the fruit, helped maintain acidity, and allowed the polyphenols to synthesize and gain in aromatic complexity.
The dry, sunny weather would naturally imply “ideal” harvest conditions. But the heat was an issue, and many felt it imposed a singular picking regime—not for the first time, but even more than hitherto: the need to pick early, in the cool of the morning. An increasing number of properties carried out an ever more painstaking, meticulous, and ripeness-precise plot-and-vine regime, according to different combinations of soil, subsoil, rootstock, clonal or massal selection, and so on, and also based on detailed variations you could taste in the grapes, often within very small distances.
The bulk of the Merlot harvest in St-Emilion and Pomerol started on September 7/8/9. Most Left Bank Merlots began at the start of the third week, September 14, with the Cabernet harvest largely beginning a week later, on September 21. For the vast majority of properties, it was all over by the end, or just after the end, of the month, a limit imposed, in effect, by the onset of the heavy rains of Storm Alex in the first week of October. Broadly speaking, a red-wine harvest of three weeks.
Ripeness in the Left Bank wines?
Full ripeness is, as always, a relative concept. One person’s glass-half-empty, “not absolutely fully ripe” Left Bank Cabernet Sauvignons might equally be expressed as another’s glass-half-full “fully, freshly ripe.” There was so much fruit that was very ripe on the Left Bank—Merlot above all, of course, but Cabernets, too—that a touch of extra freshness was a plus.
When thinking of the ripeness of the 2020 fruit, it is also worth remembering the length of the ripening period this year. For the majority of red grapes, the ripening period in 2020 (the hang-time, in American parlance) was considerably longer than the old “100 days from flowering to harvest” axiom—much closer, in fact, to 110–120 days; 120 days of mostly unexcessive ripening conditions, slowed betimes, but rarely blocked, by the summer’s drought, then quickened in the early September heat, and with a final cool, polyphenol-friendly ten days to add complexity to aromas and finesse to textures.
Red-wine quality and style
Because of the vagaries of the viticultural year, there is not the consistency of quality seen in 2019 and 2016, and the way in which the wines are successful in the different locations is more variable. But the best 2020s—in their greater variety of styles, and at every level—are within touching distance of their 2019 and 2016 counterparts. And it is these two vintages that will, I suspect, in the long term, elbow out 2018 and 2020, if one must already articulate a ranking. If I had to put money on it, I would say that most 2020s don’t have the sheer class, scope, and beauty of the 2019s. But in any case, there will be magnificent wines, as well as just delicious wines, in each year of this great quartet, and to drink any of them in maturity will be a privilege.
Style
Structurally, the 2020s are lower in alcohol than the 2018s (especially) and 2019s, while mostly not as moderate as the 2016s. Acidities vary considerably—from mouthwatering, ripe, red-fruit vitality, to relatively supple, and yet very fresh in feel from their aromas. Many pHs are on the higher side, reflecting a more moderate acidity. The 3.5/3.6 norm of yore is (now) rare, and the 2020 bunching is around 3.7/3.8, with an occasional 3.9; adequate, warmer-year acidities, that is. Yet one of the remarkable features of the year is just how fresh an impression most of the wines have to taste, even when they do have more modest levels of acidity; one of the principal reasons doubtless being those contrastingly cool summer and autumn nights. And while tannin figures are high, there is a marked tendency toward more restrained and refined textures, from much gentler winemaking and winemaking aims. So, one might then describe the style of many of the 2020s as a sort of rich, climate-warmed classicism.
Some of the adjectives and analogies that often came to my mind when tasting were of a compact, sappy, firm-fleshed core fruit, a sort of rich leanness, like a fine undercut—a fine fillet of beef, in carnal parlance, with apologies to vegetarians, and talking texture rather than flavor. They are mostly firmer framed, a touch stiffer, and more neatly pressed and neatly seamed, in tailoring terms, than their respective 2019s, but less expansively aromatic, easy, and graceful than the latter. In comparison with a couple of older fine vintages, they remind me at this stage of the best 1996s, but with more matter and refinement, and of a less extreme, more measured version of 2010.
Communes
A Left Bank or Right Bank year? This commune or that commune? I’m not sure that this is a helpful way to think of 2020. There are great successes in every commune; more to the point, I don’t think you can identify a weak one as such. But, having just said “No” to “this commune or that commune,” there were two sweet spots for me this year. One was Margaux (a bit like in 2015?), many of whose wines have a notably high proportion of Merlot for the Left Bank; the other was the Pomerol plateau, where there are few inexpensive wines, but where there is still fair value (in the Bordeaux context) to be found for excellent quality. In their respective styles, the best of these two communes express, for me, the essence of 2020: medium- to full-bodied wines, combining a ripe, compact core flesh with a wide variety of fresh aromas and a gently tautening acidity, all shaped and nourished by a rich, fine-grained tannin. That’s pretty good Bordeaux.
Mood music: Changing winemaking ideals in Bordeaux
Over the past decade (2010 to 2020) and, in particular, over the past five years, there has been a clear change in red-winemaking ideals, a move away from an emphasis on extraction, structure, and abundant new wood (epitomized by many wines in 2005, 2009, and 2010) to a much gentler, more moderate approach to extraction, tannin texture, and oak-aging. What I might term the “brutalist” style has not disappeared completely (and there appears still to be a market for it, perceived or real), but it is now very much behind the curve, and a new paradigm has emerged. This is epitomized, for me, in a particularly striking way, by three names over the past five years: Lafon-Rochet (Basile Tesseron), especially since 2016; Beau-Séjour Bécot (Juliette Bécot and Julien Barthe), where there was a veritable stylistic volte-face in 2017; and Giscours (Alexander Van Beek) in 2020.
Without any loss of intensity of flavor, all of these names now (and there are, of course, many others) have a restrained fineness of texture, where the tannins are effortlessly integrated in the overall impression, which allows the heart of the wine to be perceived without the distraction of a strong winemaking style, and where the consequent transparency of taste allows the vineyards’ distinctive character to be expressed more clearly. It is a resetting of the pendulum, a different vision that looks for wines that are finer in feel, more graceful, and easier to drink, as well as more distinctive, but that will age as well as any hitherto. A gentle hand on the winemaking tiller is above all at the heart of the approach of, among others, Oenoteam’s Thomas Duclos, increasingly influential in the region and the advisor at both Beau-Séjour Bécot and Giscours. It makes for red Bordeaux wines that are a revelation.
2020 winemaking: A gentle hand on the winemaking tiller
Winemaking in 2020 was a continuation of trends over the previous few years, plus the ideals mentioned above. Some properties deliberately picked a selection of fruit a bit earlier than la mode—not only for freshness, but in order to have a wider range of flavors to work with when blending. Cold rooms (chambres froides) are becoming more common to chill fruit immediately after picking. And, as has become common over recent vintages, the search for less extract led to fermentation temperatures that were “cool,” too—typically 77–82°F (25–28°C). There was also far less physical manipulation of the must than in the past, thus very gentle, if any, use of punching down of the cap (pigeage), rack and return (délestage), and pumping over (remontage). Instead, the fermentation byword has become infusion, a physiochemical process where compounds flow passively from one medium to another without any physical intervention.
A proportion of whole-bunch is not infrequently an additional part of the infusion process today, with the advantage of diminishing (by the release of a small amount of water) the level of alcohol by 0.2–0.3%, a diminution that can also be encouraged by the use of indigenous yeasts, which require more sugar (17.5g) to produce one degree of alcohol than selected yeasts (which need only 16.5–17g). And this emphasis on gentleness in the vat is of course followed by gentler, sometimes shorter, élevage, with less reliance on new oak, and an increasing proportion of the more neutral, but similarly “micro-oxygenating,” clay amphorae. And so on.
Closing reflections: On terroir and climate change
Talking of fads, fashions, and trends (which I have been), another recent one is that Bordeaux winemaking is “all about the terroir,” the expression of a lieu, letting the voice of the vineyard speak. I don’t have a problem with this as such, only that it is difficult to square with the fact that the vast majority of Bordeaux wines are blends of lieux, often within a large, soil-byzantine vineyard, of annually differing proportions of different grape varieties, of increasingly severe “selection” (that is, de-selection, too) at assemblage… Given all this, which particular lieu, or aspect of lieu, is being given its voice, I wonder? Of course, it’s a lovely idea, but I’m not sure how much sense it makes as a rationalization in the Bordeaux context. Which is, for most properties, the larger ones especially, more about a blend that fits the prevailing ideal of local vinous perfection, given the hand that nature has dealt in a particular year, and tempered, of course, by the constraints of commerce.
And finally, a very nicely expressed thought, in the climate-change context, from Eric Kohler of Château Lafite: “2020 donne un message formidable à Bordeaux: même dans une année aussi chaude que 2020, Bordeaux est capable de faire des vins ultra-classique. Un vrai message, qui est aussi une surprise. On aurait jamais imaginé qu’un millésime aussi chaud pourrait faire un vin tellement frais! ” (“2020 gives Bordeaux a great message: even in a year as hot as 2020, we can make ultra-classic wines. Who would have thought that a vintage as torrid as this could produce such cool, fresh wine?”)
A most positive note on which to sign off.
