I hunt down value wines with soul, the kind that tell stories, spark debates, and challenge your assumptions about what good and "affordable" can taste like. The deal: Hong Kong prices with free delivery in urban areas. Six-bottle minimum. Ready to explore? WhatsApp 852 66236746 or email cf.lau@dunndunn.hk - Kevin K Tang
All the so-called good vintages are gone, but let’s be clear about what a "good vintage" actually is. In Bordeaux, "good" typically means a year of abundance—when vineyard managers, often from the old generation, can sort through plenty and select the best-looking grapes at the sorting table. That’s when you get riper fruit, more tannin, and better acidity: the hallmarks of wines built for long storage, for investors, and for traditional palates. But that’s just one side of the story, and it’s not what everyone—especially Generation Z or X—necessarily wants. Every vintage is unique in its own way, shaped by the weather, the soil, and the winemaker’s choices. That’s why off-vintages, while less celebrated, can be just as honest and even more interesting, because they reflect the real work, decisions, and sometimes even the jazz of adapting to nature’s curveballs.
What’s more, the facts speak for themselves:
2011: With an ABV around 13.5% and a blend of 65% Merlot, 25% Cabernet Franc, and 10% Cabernet Sauvignon, the 2011 Laroze is for those who appreciate classic structure and fresh acidity. It’s a vintage of immediate drinkability and finesse, though it doesn’t offer the depth or concentration of bigger years. The downside: it lacks the richness and length of celebrated vintages, and isn’t built for long-term aging. But for those who want a ready-to-enjoy Bordeaux, it’s a genuine option. Wine-Searcher price range (HK$): HK$429–HK$624; my offer (HK$): HK$250
2012: Also at 13.5% ABV and the same classic blend, the 2012 is elegant and aromatic with supple, well-integrated tannins. It’s ready to drink and enjoy now—an inviting choice for those who prefer a lighter, approachable style. However, it’s not for those seeking big power or wines with immense aging potential; its delicacy is both its charm and its limitation. Wine-Searcher price range (HK$): HK$468–HK$741; my offer (HK$): HK$290.
2014: The 2014 comes in at about 14% ABV, following the house blend. It’s juicy, fresh, and approachable, with good fruit and structure—versatile at the table and easy to enjoy. Still, it’s on the straightforward side for a Grand Cru Classé, lacking the complexity and depth of truly great years. Wine-Searcher price range (HK$): HK$429–HK$702; my offer (HK$): HK$250.
For Lazoze, the 2011, 2012, and 2014 vintages may not have the thunder of headline years, but they offer a remarkable combination of character, provenance, and value. At HK$250 (2011), HK$290 (2012), and HK$250 (2014), these bottles are not just accessible; they’re a testament to the house’s consistency and the nuanced artistry of winemaking under less-than-perfect conditions.
By exploring how Lazoze navigated the climate and market challenges of those years, you can highlight the unique qualities of each vintage—and make the case for why wine lovers should rethink their assumptions. These wines might surprise even the most seasoned collector with their depth, ageing potential, and the satisfaction of discovering something special where few are looking.
What’s more, the facts speak for themselves. I spend time teaching others about wine, so my perspective comes from sharing and exploring bottles, not just selling them.
After a long, honest day, I’m drawn to the cellar to open a cross-section of Lafon-Rochet—four vintages, each shaped by its time, each telling its own story. This estate’s heart is always in Saint-Estèphe’s sturdy soil, but each year brings its own shade of personality. Tonight, I want to see how that character shows itself in the glass—and what the market still fails to see.
Lafon-Rochet has always been an underdog in Hong Kong. Despite its fourth growth pedigree, it’s never inspired much fanfare. There’s no flashy image, no cult following, no big PR push—just a quietly classic label and an unpretentious château. It’s not a bottle people buy to impress, and it rarely makes a splash on auction blocks or in social feeds.
The style set it apart, though not always to its advantage. For years, Lafon-Rochet was called tough, even rustic, especially in leaner vintages. It never delivered the inky black fruit or plushness that collectors chase. In a market that loves opulence and immediacy, subtlety and structure get overlooked. Ironically, its value pricing—always cheap for a classed growth—just cemented the idea that this was "reasonable standard" Bordeaux, not a must-have.
But that’s exactly why a tasting with bottles carrying 10–20 years of age can surprise you.
But times—and winemaking—change. Modern Lafon-Rochet is softer, more balanced, and much more approachable. Yet old prejudices linger. In Hong Kong, where image is everything, Lafon-Rochet stays in the shadows: honest, food-friendly, and, for those who know, a real bargain.
I start with 2017, a return to classic structure. The blend is 58% Cabernet Sauvignon, 35% Merlot, 4% Cabernet Franc, 3% Petit Verdot; ABV is 13%. The price range from Wine-Searcher is HK$370–$480, but my offer is HK$340 per bottle (36 bottles left). The nose is fresh: violets, blackcurrant leaf, and a subtle earthiness. The palate is medium-bodied, crisp, and firm with tannin. It’s precise and clean, but a bit austere in youth. This isn’t plush—think clarity and drive. With food and patience, it shines for purists.
Next, 2013—a vintage most skipped, but I find its honesty appealing. ABV is 13%, with Wine-Searcher showing HK$350–$450. My price is $310@. In the glass, it’s deep ruby; fruit is pure, youthful. There’s red berry confit, orange zest, and a chocolate note, with fresh acidity and ripe tannins. As it opens, dark cherry and cassis surface with herbs. The pro: surprising balance and complexity for the vintage. The con: it’s delicate, without the muscle of stronger years. Still, for the price—and with a few more years—this is an honest, smart pick.
2006 (56% Cabernet Sauvignon, 40% Merlot, 2% Cabernet Franc, 2% Petit Verdot; 13% ABV, Wine-Searcher HK$520–$700) greets me with maturity: cedar, leather, dried cherry, and softened tannins. Earthy and complex, the fruit has faded, and the finish is savoury. Classic claret for those who value wisdom over flash. My price: HK$460 (40 bottles left)—a rare shot at mature Bordeaux for less.
2003—born of the infamous European heatwave—stands apart (60% Cabernet Sauvignon, 33% Merlot, 4% Cabernet Franc, 3% Petit Verdot; 13% ABV, Wine-Searcher HK$680–$900). It bursts with richness: ripe black fruit, fig, tobacco, sweet spice. Lush, mouth-filling, with softened structure, it’s a crowd-pleaser. The downside: lower acidity, a hint of jamminess, and less freshness than classic years. For lovers of opulence, drink now—especially with hearty food. Just one bottle left at HK$460—a genuine find.
Tasted together, these four Lafon-Rochets reveal just how the estate bends with each vintage—classic in 2017, honest in 2013, mature in 2006, opulent in 2003. None are made for the spotlight, but all have something to say if you stop and listen. For those willing to look past labels and hype, Lafon-Rochet remains Bordeaux’s quiet, reliable secret—and, in this market, a real opportunity.
I hunt down value wines with soul, the kind that tell stories, spark debates, and challenge your assumptions about what good and "affordable" can taste like. The deal: Hong Kong prices with free delivery in urban areas. Six-bottle minimum. Ready to explore? WhatsApp 852 66236746 or email cf.lau@dunndunn.hk - Kevin K Tang
(ai photo)
Tasting Calon Ségur 2017, 2018, and 2019 side by side recently felt like opening a window into the soul of Saint-Estèphe—each vintage has its own distinct voice, yet that signature Calon silkiness is the common thread. I found it fascinating to see how not just my palate, but also critics and the market, respond to these differences.
Starting with the 2017, I was greeted by a wine of finesse and classical restraint. The bouquet was bright with red currant and violets, and the palate was light on its feet—almost ethereal for the appellation. The tannins, so fine, seemed to glide rather than grip. Critics clearly appreciated this refined style, with scores clustering in the mid-90s (Wine Advocate and Vinous at 94, James Suckling just a notch higher). The market in Hong Kong reflects the vintage’s modesty, with prices typically between HK$780 and HK$ 1,100 (Wine Searcher, May 2026), but I am offering it at HK$850 with just 6 bottles left—a fair ask for such accessible charm. But it’s not without its shortcomings: compared to its siblings, the 2017 lacks depth and staying power, and the finish, while pure, is fleeting. If you crave power and longevity, this is the vintage to drink young and enjoy for its elegance. However, the fruit length from finish is over 8 seconds, which is pretty impressive.
By contrast, the 2018 makes an immediate impression. From the first swirl, the wine announces itself with richness—black fruit, mocha, and a density that promises years of evolution. There’s a hedonistic streak here, the kind of wine that fills the room and lingers on the palate. Unsurprisingly, critics responded with enthusiasm: 97+ from Wine Advocate and 97s from both Vinous and James Suckling. This critical acclaim has translated into a price jump, and you’ll now find the 2018 in Hong Kong between HK$1,100 and HK$ 1,550 (Wine Search, May 2026), but I have it at HK$900 with 6 bottles left. The trade-off for all this power? The alcohol feels higher, and in its youth, the wine can seem a bit over the top. Give it time—patience will reward you with nuance beneath the opulence. Decanting helps.
Then there’s the 2019, which feels to me like the perfect bridge between its neighbours. The wine combines the energy and lift of 2017 with much of 2018’s fruit depth. There’s a core of blackberry and graphite, and the tannins, though firm, are already threading themselves into the wine’s fabric. Critics fell in line with a trio of 97-point scores, and the price—ranging from HK$950 to $1,350 (Wine Searcher, May 2026)—reflects both its pedigree and its slightly greater availability. I am pleased to offer the 2019 at HK$950 with 30 bottles left. If there’s a fault, it’s only that the structure is still a touch taut; a bit more time will help everything knit together. It might not have 2018’s swagger or 2017’s easy charm, but it offers a compelling middle path and promises a long, graceful evolution. Extended decanting helps.
For those who, like me, are drawn to Calon Ségur for that seamless texture, there are a few alternatives worth seeking out. Pichon Comtesse offers a similarly plush and seductive profile, while Château Canon delivers right bank finesse with creamy precision. Branaire-Ducru is lighter and more aromatic, and Montrose (in the generous years) can match Calon’s polish, though always with a bit more muscle.
Reflecting on these tastings—with critics’ perspectives, market prices, and my own cellar offering in mind—I’m reminded why Calon Ségur continues to inspire such devotion: not just for its power, but for its balance, subtlety, and that unmistakable silkiness, vintage after vintage.
