In this week's Wine Stain of the Week on The Indelible Wine Stain this week, we travel to the sun-stained docks and opulent waters of Monaco, where glitterati and well to do come to play, and sometimes, unfortunately, spill treasures.
Meet Isabella Fontaine, a jewel of the Mediterranean, a philanthropist known for her lavish gatherings aboard her yacht, “La Belle Vie.” A lover of art, wine, and the sea, she decided to host an auction dinner party for charity, featuring rare wines and art pieces, with the crème de la crème of society in attendance.
1985 Méo-Camuzet, Richebourg on a 18th-century Tapestry of Monaco
The Wine
In the vinous world, legend and reality dance and if Meomi Pinot Noir is “Cotton-eyed Joe” then Richebourg Grand Cru would be the Tango. Strutting, flaunting its plume like a velvet Peacock. Domaine Méo-Camuzet stands tall as a fine example of an estate that only selects the cream of the crop and in 1985, Henri Jayer was still very much involved. A confession of the earth, draped in a velvet robe like a seductive Duchess.
The Tapestry
Isabella’s collection is world famous and at the peak is no decorative piece; it was “Le Rocher,” a historical artifact, dating back to the 18th century, telling the tale of Monaco's rise through the ages and the families who sculpted it.
The Accident
As the yacht cruised gently along the Côte d'Azur, the auction commenced under the moonlight spell. Guests had been invited, selected even. The lots were rare, unique and the evening was in full swing. A gathering had been drawn to the astounding Tapestry as it called out silently to be admired.
The highlight of the evening was to be the 1985 vintage of Richebourg Grand Cru from Domaine Méo-Camuzet, a wine revered by oenophiles worldwide for its complexity and feel. But at the moment of unveiling, one of the guest's overexcited Italian greyhound, Leonardo, broke free from his grasp.
He dashed across the deck, weaving through the legs of the crowd like the artists who had created the very Tapestry. In an attempt to avoid a collision, the waiter holding the Méo-Camuzet swerved, but to no avail. The bottle slipped from his grasp, the wine raised and fell like an auction hammer.
The deck fell silent, just the gentle lapping of the waves, a few gasps of shock and the distant cry of a lone seagull. Isabella stared in disbelief. Tapestry, wine and dog, a symbol of Monaco's luxury life played out as a farce.
The Wine Stain
“With a taste of black cherry and blackberry bramble, tangled with the wisdom of an aged leather bangle, whispers of tobacco and a hint of vanilla tangle as if the beans had been plucked from Madagascar. Ripe, dark fruits embark on Marco Polo’s Oriental spice quest with subtle smoke and dusty fabric leave one remembering a magical forest ramble after rainfall.”
Isabella, ever the gracious and seasoned host, merely sighed, a smile playing on her lips. "Well, it seems Leonardo has just made his mark on Monaco's history," she quipped, breaking the tension. The evening continued, but the story of the spill on La Belle Vie will ripple through Monaco's social circles for years.
