Gruaud Larose: The Vintages Nobody Wants — And Why You Should

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, rescaling The Gold Rose, Gruaud Larose.)

Let me be direct. These are the vintages the wine world quietly sets aside — absent from glossy lists, ignored at auction. The off years. The ones nobody talks about: 1994, 2011, 2013, 2014, 2015, and 2017.

The argument against them writes itself. Gruaud Larose is a Super Second — a Deuxième Grand Cru Classé of Saint-Julien. If you are going to open one, surely it should be the 2009, the 2010, the legendary 1982. Why settle for less?

Because these bottles are in my cellar, getting no younger. And I refuse to accept that a Super Second, even in a difficult year, is not worth your attention.

The Estate

Gruaud Larose is, by nature, an uneven performer. Brilliant decades followed by quiet ones. That inconsistency is precisely what keeps prices honest — a backhanded gift to the patient buyer. The terroir has resources that do not always show up in critical scores.

The Vintages

1994, 86 pts. Toasty, oak-laced nose, intact fruit core, lighter palate. Three decades in — open it now, decant well, drink with something substantial.

2011, 90 pts. Cassis, blackberries, anise, spice. Fresh acidity, ripe tannins. Classic and clean. Two hours in a decanter — drink now.

2013, 89 pts. Light, red-fruited, early-drinking. Conditions broke lesser estates — Gruaud Larose survived. Do not overthink it. Just open it.

2014, 92 pts. Classic structure, red and stewed fruit, tobacco and cedar. Described as “a vintage of natural restraint and nobility.” The sleeper of the group.

2015, 92 pts. Not an off-vintage — widely recognised as excellent, yet overshadowed by the 2016 and priced below its quality. Blackcurrant, red cherry, tea leaf, pencil, leather. Presence and energy described as “simply irresistible.” Drinking well now.

2017, 92 pts. Bright and fresh, soft tannins, red berries over black fruit. Black truffle on the nose. The frost year produced something worth drinking — best after 2028.

The Case for All of Them

The score is low — 86, 89, 90 — because the vintage was difficult. Not because Gruaud Larose stopped caring. The winemaking, the terroir, the standards of a Super Second — all remained in place. What you are buying is the same estate’s best effort in a harder year. The low score tells you the year was imperfect. It does not tell you the wine is wrong.

A difficult vintage at a serious estate is not the same as a mediocre wine from a mediocre producer. Gruaud Larose does not cut corners when the weather turns. It selects harder, produces less. The result is a leaner wine — not a lesser one.

Gruaud Larose is a meaty, structured, tobacco-and-dark-fruit wine that demands food and patience. These vintages are lighter, earlier-drinking expressions of that character — at prices that let you experience a genuine Super Second without the premium.

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And consider this. Six vintages, mostly off years, spread across three decades. Open them in an evening, and you have a mini vertical of Gruaud Larose — not the polished, parade-ready bottles, but the estate in its working clothes. That is, arguably, a more honest education in what Gruaud Larose actually is than any single great vintage could offer. You learn the baseline. You learn the DNA. The fruit style, tobacco, the structure, the Saint-Julien bones — present in every year, regardless of the score on the label.

So I will drink them. You should too — before the window closes on the ones past their peak, and before the world wakes up to the ones still quietly improving.

Gruaud Larose, even in its quieter moments, is not without value. Anyone who says otherwise has not been paying attention.