Boozehound - Jason Wilson [95]
In his office, we tasted through much of Delamain’s portfolio. The youngest cognac they release is an XO, which averages twenty-five years or more in the barrel. Consider that for a moment: even a cognac that has aged for two decades would not be ready for that blend. “It’s still too young for us. Too much wood still,” Peyrelongue said. Then we moved on to the Très Vénérable. “Very delicate, like a flower. When women say, ‘Oh, I don’t like cognac, it burns.’ I tell them to try a glass of this.”
“How much is this cognac?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Peyrelongue said, with a dismissive wave.
“No, really,” I said. “What price do you sell this for?”
He shrugged his shoulders. Now, for the record, I can tell you that the Delamain XO goes for about $100 and the Très Vénérable for about $250. Why I can find that in three seconds on Google but the president of the company didn’t know is a mystery. Peyrelongue’s indifference to price continued to bother me for the rest of my visit to Cognac.
On the afternoon before the auction, Delamain’s neighbor in Jarnac, giant Courvoisier, held a press conference to unveil its L’Essence de Courvoisier, which would go on sale in only one store in the world, Harrods of London, for £1,800 (about $2,850). I immediately texted my editor: “Hey, Courvoisier’s showing off a cognac that costs £1,800. Can I expense one?”
“Yeah, sure,” he very snidely texted back. “Why not pick up two?”
Meanwhile, the crowd was gushing over the Baccarat crystal decanter suspended on a metal hoop. “Look at the bottle! How gorgeous!”
“But what about the liquid inside?” I asked.
“It doesn’t really seem to matter,” grumbled one of the other journalists. This is my main beef with expensive cognac in particular. Much of the perceived value is in the limited edition crystal decanter, with designs by Baccarat or Erté or Sèvres or whatever.
There is a delusional aspect to the cognac category’s marketing, with its air of unattainable affluence and sophistication on one hand, and on the other, its dogged attempts to connect cognac with the general consumer. Only an hour before the unveiling of L’Essence de Courvoisier, the master distiller told me that Courvoisier Exclusif, which retails at around $45 to $50, was the best for mixing and that “bartenders like to use it behind the bar.” First of all, there are definitely better mixing cognacs than this at the same price, or cheaper. But beyond that, if I want an affordable alternative, I can use a good brandy from somewhere else—say, a $25 Asbach Uralt from Germany or the best Spanish brandies at around $30—to mix in a Sidecar or a Stinger. When I suggested noncognac brandy alternatives to the representative for BNIC, the cognac authority, he said, “Ouch.”
This is not a knock on cognac, which I enjoy very much. But the cold, hard reality is that good cognac is expensive. An investment, really. But at what return?
I don’t know if I got any answers that night at the big La Part des Anges auction. The affair was black-tie—though in my case and the case of the other journalists in attendance, black-tie meant “wear a jacket for god’s sake, and just don’t embarrass yourself!”
The affair was on the banks of the Charente River, and boats ferried people across to the party. The Summit cocktail was served outside, amid dancing water, a string quartet, fireworks, and a shirtless man who danced with fire. Then we all went inside a gigantic tent for dinner and an auction. Through dinner, I was sitting with some people from Rémy Martin, a local car dealership, and the owners of a local bed-and-breakfast. But then, oddly, some condensation formed on the tent above me, and it started “raining” inside—on my head.
So as the auction was beginning, I decamped to another table, where some fellow writers were sitting with Alexandre Gabriel, the president