Larmandier-Bernier – Vieille Vigne du Levant 2011

You'd do well to steer clear of the 2011 Champagne vintage. See the four ominous digits preceding the name of a wine on a restaurant list or on a bottle on a quick dip into a shop and it's tempting to think that it can't be that bad.

Well, it is.

The vintage resulted in dismally low production volumes, though given the generally poor quality of the little wine produced, it may not be so dismal after all. Even wines that may have passed whatever quality level could be considered adequate are, at this point a decade on, likely well past their supposed prime.

Though while you should, I beg you, tuck the vintage away into the dark corner of your mind reserved for blind fear and avoidance, it is a year that growers and producers in Champagne will be unable to quickly forget. Beginning with an uncharacteristically hot start to the growing season, the vintage transitioned to a wet, frigid summer with unyielding bombardments of hail. Grapes that survived the ice pelting unscathed were, due to the atypical weather, often unripe and lacking the structure needed to create great, or even decent, wines. As though this weren't enough, much of harvest was drenched by heavy downpours, leading to grape rot and diluted juice in the cellars. All in all, it was a pretty bad year.

But as I've come to find time and again, the wine world is one of exceptions, and the Champagne estate of Larmandier-Bernier has a habit of being, well, exceptional. Its 2011 Vieille Vigne du Levant exceeds all expectations of this vintage and would hold its own against, or I dare say even surpass, most bubblies of any year, including recent heralded vintages like 2008 and 2012.

What makes it so unusually delightful, you ask? For one, it has none of the undesirable traits mentioned above: It is resoundingly concentrated, is amply ripe, and possesses an enlivening backbone of structural acidity. But it is also a wine that should be celebrated for its excellence beyond a heroic escape from inhospitable origins. Remove the year from the label and this wouldn’t be a tale of surmounting great odds, of crafting something that is merely better than the rest in a comparison of “who didn’t make the worst wine this year,” but rather a story of just what happens to be a spectacular wine.

Pierre and Sophie Larmandier | Polaner Selections

Larmandier-Bernier

Peter Liem, perhaps the Champagne cognoscente, writes in his (imaginatively titled) masterpiece book, Champagne, that Larmandier-Bernier is “one of the finest estates in the Côte des Blancs.” Well, my lesser tastebuds and I aren’t going to object to that. Nor would we, except to maybe expand his acclaim beyond just the Côte des Blancs to include all of Champagne.

While the estate is now known as an exalted grower-producer harvesting all of their fruit from their own vineyards (if you need a crash course on grower Champagne, my article on Pierre Péters's Cuvée de Réserve goes over the basics), the story of Larmandier-Bernier begins long ago. Like that of many others in the world of artisanal wine, it is one of a generational passing down of land, along with the know-how, craft, and, most importantly, desire to sustain and improve that which is inherited.

Before the current estate existed, the Larmandier and Bernier families separately farmed grapes and produced wines in Champagne going back to at least as early as the late 1700s. To put that in perspective, Larmandiers and Berniers have been tending to the land and producing wines for almost as long as the United States has existed! But their modern arrangement was established fairly recently in 1971, with the Larmandier and Bernier families coming together to marry Philippe Larmandier and Elisabeth Bernier and create the aptly named, Vertus-based estate of Larmandier-Bernier.

But even with this history, the family didn't receive significant recognition until 1988, with the return of Pierre Larmandier, Philippe and Elisabeth’s son, along with a pioneering vision for the future. With his wife, Sophie, Pierre expanded the estate's holdings over the years, ensuring that any grape that made it into their wines was meticulously tended to by their own hands. As of now, they currently own a number of properties throughout the Côte des Blancs in the villages of Vertus, Oger, Avize, Cramant, and Chouilly.

With these vineyards under their control, they were able to cease the application of pesticides and herbicides to their vines and soil, eventually adopting biodynamic and organic viticulture by the early aughts. They likewise opted for a lighter hand in the cellar, including allowing the wines to ferment naturally via the indigenous yeasts present on the grapes from the vine, rather than using commercial yeasts.

With Pierre and his plan at the helm, the estate continued to improve year after year and rose to the forefront of the grower movement. In 2017, Pierre and Sophie's son, Arthur, joined the estate and continues the family's history and legacy in the region, as well as their outsize role in it.

While the Larmandiers try not to interfere with the natural processes of growing and fermenting, it is not for lack of intention. They are known to do things differently, including harvesting grapes at a higher ripeness level than most others in the region (they determine the perfect level of ripeness by tasting the grapes) and extensively aging their wines, particularly the higher-end offerings like their Vieille Vigne du Levant.

Their methods perhaps explain why they often excel in vintages when others do not, as in 2011, where their wines are the exception in a year in which few producers created wines of note. A definitive, knowledgeable hand is used, but not a firm one. They merely guide the wine towards the ideal representation of itself and don’t force it to be any way that it is inherently not. In this, they find perfection, or at least as close to it as you can get.

Larmandier-Bernier Vieille Vigne du Levant 2011 – $112

Produced since 1988, what we now know as Larmandier-Bernier’s Vieille Vigne du Levant was originally named Vieille Vigne de Cramant for the village where the vineyards reside. It was changed after some time to reduce confusion with the word “crémant,” the term reserved for sparkling wines made in France using the traditional Champagne method, but outside of Champagne.

The wine’s current name comes from Bourron du Levant, one of the two parcels of fifty- to eighty-year-old vines on the Butte de Saran, a hill within Cramant, from which its grapes are sourced. The plot is south-easterly facing, ensuring significant sun exposure, particularly in the morning and early afternoon. This disposition is at least partly responsible for the strength and concentration of the vineyard's namesake wine. Curious (and non-Francophone) folk will note that, per Google Translate, “levant” is, appropriately, French for “east.” (“Learn French” still sits on its perch on my to-do list, as it has for some time now—to say nothing of Italian, German, and all of the other languages of wine-producing regions. Maybe one day. Until then, I'll continue to try my best with pronunciations, which admittedly could use some work.)

The first part of the name, “Vieille Vigne,” is an expression not unique to this wine or even Champagne, and you’ll see the term or some variation or translation of it on many labels the world over. It translates to English as “old vine” and implies the generally understood notion that older vines result in higher-quality wines.

The conventional thinking goes that as vines age, they produce fewer grapes, but those produced are often more concentrated and complex. The problem is that there are few to no restrictions on using this term on a label, as well as that there is little consensus on what qualifies as “old.” That said, I would certainly say that the fifty- to eighty-year-old vines that go into this wine are sufficiently vieilles to justify the term's place on the bottle.

Also sprinkled on the label are several more terms, some of which you’re likely to see on other Champagnes, particularly grower bottles like that of Pierre Péters I previously highlighted. Emblazoned on the front just below the name of the wine, "Grand Cru" is likely the most prominent. In Champagne, this conveys a significance similar to other French regions: that the stuff inside is supposed to be good, very good. But how it is classified is a bit different. Rather than being applied to individual vineyards, as in Burgundy, or estates, as in Bordeaux, the entire village is designated as Grand Cru in Champagne. With 100% of the grapes for this bottling coming from Cramant, a village within the Côte des Blancs and one of those classified as Grand Cru, the wine is permitted to include the term on its label.

You’ll also notice the terms “Blanc de Blancs” and “Extra-Brut.” The former indicates that, as a “white of whites,” all the grapes that go into the wine are, expectedly, white—in this case Chardonnay. The latter term is a designation of dosage, the introduction of a mixture of sugar and additional wine added between the second, carbonating fermentation and the final corking and caging. The most familiar of dosage classifications is brut, which indicates that the final wine has less than twelve grams of sugar per liter. With its two grams per liter, this wine is extra brut, which must have between zero and six grams per liter.

This makes it fairly dry by typical Champagne standards, though in line with much of what grower-producers have been putting out lately. It’s important to note that, for the most part, the purpose of dosage, or lack thereof, is to create a more balanced wine and help it show its best, rather than just make it sweet or supposedly allow for it to show its so-called natural state. It all has to do with the other components of the wine and how they all come together harmoniously or, tragically, not.

In the case of this wine, there is nothing tragic about it. While the dosage is rather low, its dryness is imperceptible on the tastebuds, and with its richness and full-bodied nature, it possesses a pleasant—no, not sweetness—but that kind of lingering sensation you get from pastries that can sometimes resemble it.

Though not mentioned on the label, the initial, uncarbonated wine is fermented in well-used oak. Specifically, the estate uses a combination of casks and vats produced by the Stockinger cooperage for their discerning approach to selection and seasoning that better allows for the nature of the wine to show through. As they are not new barrels, no oak flavors or aromas are imparted to the wine, but its time spent in wood rather than stainless steel allows for air to reach it, adding a unique depth and complexity. This fermentation commences with naturally occurring yeasts present on the grape skins from the vineyard, followed by spontaneous malolactic fermentation.

The Larmandier-Bernier Cellar | Polaner Selections

All of these steps and decisions result in a wine with an intriguing vinous quality that resembles a white wine, particularly white Burgundy, though with an effervescence of bubbles and the luxuriously pastry-like, nutty characteristic that Champagne often has. It fills your mouth with flavors and sensations that linger, then swiftly transform into something else entirely.

Yes, it's immensely enjoyable as a hedonistic sensory experience of a well-made beverage, but it also evokes something deeper. The combined intellectual and emotional trigger of knowing all of the components, history, and people that make the wine what it is—each step in that year alone, in generation to generation of a family, and in the history of a region as a whole—all showing themselves in that moment you take a sip. I know it may sound ridiculous; that it's just a tasty bottle of expensive wine. But stay on this journey long enough (you are here reading this after all), and you'll start to see and feel what makes a wine like this so extraordinary.

If you're convinced and manage to find a bottle, there are a few things to keep in mind. While I’d be sure to give this wine the spotlight when you serve it, it’s remarkably versatile and should shine in a variety of situations, with or without food. Its vinous qualities will lend itself well to food, but I personally enjoyed it before the meal, on its own, to ensure it could be given the focus it deserved and keep its flavors untainted by any of the varied dishes served. But if you’re eating a more homogenous meal, go ahead and try them together.

Serve it warmer than you might drink other white or sparkling wines, or it will appear tight and closed off. And unless the occasion truly calls for it, refrain from flutes or coupés and just use a regular wine glass—though perhaps less beautiful, you’ll be much more able to appreciate the aromas and flavors.

I’d suggest snagging a few bottles, assuming you have the space and a proper cellar (a cool basement will do). Drink one now, and stow away the others for a few years; I imagine it will only improve with age.

I suppose I should also note that while I encourage you to buy as much of this as you can, it is, undoubtedly, not a cheap bottle of wine, and anyone who tells you otherwise is at risk of exposing their delusion. But value, of course, is relative. And this wine holds its own against, and I’d say is superior to, many of the heavy hitters of Champagne—and it does so at a far lower price. After all, it hails from a single hill within a Grand Cru village and is crafted, painstakingly so, by masters of both vine and wine. Taking all of this into account, the price seems to become ever so more reasonable. (Either that or I’m becoming delusional myself. Though where’s the fun in a hobby without the grandeur of a little self-delusion?)

It is a truly special wine, and whether you are already a converted, frequent Champagne drinker or you’re in desperate need of a good nudging away from the New Year’s-or-never mindset, I bet you’ll thoroughly enjoy it.

Find it on Wine-Searcher: Larmandier-Bernier Vieille Vigne du Levant 2011