Mommessin

Clos de Tart Grand Cru Pinot Noir 1990

9.6

My Second Encounter with Clos de Tart

The first time I drank Clos de Tart was a 1999 vintage. Back then, I knew nothing about this vineyard. The wine was opened too briefly—still tight and unyielding, with a bold, muscular structure and tannins that felt a bit harsh. It wasn’t to my taste, so I soon forgot about it.

This time, I stumbled upon a 1990 vintage by chance. The label was slightly worn, but the fill level was perfect. After 30 minutes of decanting, the aromas began to emerge. By the two-hour mark, a distinct ‘rouge fragrance’drifted from the bottle—a scent often mentioned by friends who’ve drunk Jayer’s wines. I’d never experienced it myself until now.

The perfume was utterly enchanting:not overpowering, but a delicate, vintage rouge—like a blend of snow cream and the subtle powder used by women in the Republican era. It was neither vulgar nor overly flamboyant, but perfectly ambiguous, lingering on the edge of allure. Captivated, I sourced more bottles of this vintage, eager to see how the next one might unfold.

I saved a third of the bottle for the next day. While the fragrance had faded, the wine held its structure beautifully—a testament to its aging potential. This vintage is drinking flawlessly now.

On the palate, it was luxuriously rich, with a body that defied its age. The color, still a deep ruby with hints of red fruit, could pass for a 20-year-old wine. Notes of cherry, raspberry, preserved fruit, rose, and a touch of hawthorn candy’s sweet-tartness unfolded in layers. The balance was impeccable—like a hidden garden within a Suzhou courtyard, blooming in quiet harmony. The finish carried a clean, lingering sweetness.

This wine was so hauntingly beautiful that it inspired me to write my first-ever tasting note—lest I forget its magic. — 9 hours ago