No longer does a reference to Chinese wine mean Maotai or ‘that Great Wall stuff’—the country’s industry is now a force to be reckoned with
The decade and a half since I joined the wine industry has been fascinating for Chinese wine. China’s vineyard land grew until it (briefly) outstripped that of France; a Chinese wine won a trophy in a major global wine competition, and reactions to the term “Chinese wine” went from “That Great Wall stuff?” or “You mean Maotai?” to “Grace Vineyards, Ao Yun or Long Dai?” Few could have foreseen in 2008 that today we would be in a position to speak in all earnestness about Chinese “icon” wines.
For context, this sort of meteoric rise took over a century in the United States, the only producer (and market) that provides a reasonable comparison. Though China also opened its first major winery in the 1800s (Changyu, established in 1892), its wine industry was essentially dormant for a century thereafter. It was really the proliferation of two business models—the foreign luxury firm’s highly capitalised, long-term investment and the (sometimes equally well-funded) family-owned boutique—that drove China’s wine quality boom after the turn of the millennium. Excitingly, while Ningxia’s famed Helan Mountain subregion—an arid, luminous spot on the edge of the Gobi Desert irrigated by the Yellow River—has become the epicentre of Chinese luxury wine, there are also ambitious wineries from Xinjiang to Shandong and Inner Mongolia to Yunnan.
Two years ago, when I last wrote about Chinese wines for Tatler, I deliberately showcased the diversity of both regions and grapes. This time, the wines are still from across the nation but are more stylistically homogenous—all but one (a white) are cabernet or blends, sometimes featuring China’s new viticultural darling, marselan, for spice, or even syrah for an edifying perfume; I have indicated the blends where relevant. I also included several different producers from last time; it is a testament to the abundance of quality-focused Chinese wineries that I had no trouble filling the list with mostly new names—the only repeats are Ao Yun and Grace Vineyard.
It is worth remembering that most of these are very young wines designed for long ageing. I didn’t find them overly austere, but in some cases new oak is quite apparent, especially in the more powerful wines. Vintage variation is also substantial. In many cases, the winemaking teams are still working out the subtleties of farming their sites and managing diverse weather conditions. For example, Long Dai’s current release (2019) was from a hot, dry year and thus potentially not quite representative of the style going forward. In my view, this is all part of the emergence of a new quality wine industry, and I for one am excited to see what lies ahead.
Read more: Meet The Producers Who Are Redefining Chinese Wine
Ao Yun, Yunnan Province
Having cemented its cult status this year by being the first Chinese wine traded on exclusive wine distribution network La Place de Bordeaux, Ao Yun had already become a byword for Chinese luxury wine. The “wine from Shangri-La” would always have had a leg up from a storytelling perspective, but its unique location, some 2,500m above sea level in a Himalayan mountain valley, is more than just a marketing feature: it lends the wines intense colour and aroma but also a delicacy and lift that stand in stark contrast to the more robust wines of Ningxia.
This year marks the mainland Chinese release of two new projects hinted at in my last discussion with estate director, Maxence Dulou: single-village wines made from the individual components of the Ao Yun blend (Xidang, Adong, Shuori and Sinong, the last of which was not bottled separately in 2018); and the winery’s first white, a chardonnay from Adong village, which is the highest site at 2,600m. Ao Yun itself includes merlot for the first time and is now being partially aged in Chinese earthenware jars to keep new oak notes in check.
Adong Chardonnay 2018
Sumptuous tangerine and lime blossom cool to unripe nectarine with a wash of barley sugar and toast to round out the finish. The texture is pleasantly oily.
Xidang 2018
This site has the warmest soils and air, but even so, the wine has a core of acidity and porcelain tannins. The exterior is rich with sweet cherry, red plum, cloves and black chocolate.
Blend: 63% cabernet sauvignon, 17% cabernet franc, 20% petit verdot
Adong 2018
The most upright and nervous of the three, Adong is assertively floral to start, with a tight, acidic, almost saline palate and peppery, brambly fruit.
Blend: 78% cabernet sauvignon, 14% syrah, 8% cabernet franc
Shuori 2018
Already planted in 2000, Shuori village is furthest from the cooling Mekong. It has a plump, amiable bearing with bouncy purple fruit that darkens into dried fig on the finish. Cedary aromas and satiny texture keep the overall effect refined.
Blend: 75% cabernet sauvignon, 25% cabernet franc
Ao Yun 2018
A return to form after the burlier, darker expression of 2017, 2018 is precise but lyrical, a reflection of the generally mild growing season and warm, generous harvest. A hint of menthol and leafy greens opens into a lucid, tart cherry wave rounded out with coffee and savoury herbs. Fluid texture and pliant tannins complete the elegant picture.
Blend: 60% cabernet sauvignon, 19% cabernet franc, 10% merlot, 7% syrah, 4% petit verdot
