The Underdog Fifth Growth That Drinks Like Saint-Julien
- 3 minutes ago
- 3 min read
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

Chateau Belgrave is a Fifth Growth in Saint-Laurent, separated from Saint-Julien by little more than a stream. Managed by Dourthe since 1979, with Michel Rolland as consultant, it produces claret from deep gravelly soils bordering some of the Médoc’s most celebrated terroir.
Those who find Belgrave too mineral, too saline, too austere are, in a sense, tasting the gravel — the same deep Garonne gravel that underpins the great estates just across the border. The appellation label changes in the stream. The geology does not.
The Three Wine
Belgrave 2013. 70% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30% Merlot. Alcohol: approx. 12.5%. Decanter 88 (Steven Spurrier), Wine-Searcher avg 87, CellarTracker 88.
The cool, wet season devastated the Merlot crop, leaving the Cabernet striving for ripeness in soils that never quite dried out. What emerged is a wine that makes no attempt to flatter — and you’ll know it the moment you lift the glass. The nose is earthy and precise: creamy plum, dried blackcurrant, a faint suggestion of iron and wet stone. On the palate, you find something taut and lean — dry, angular tannins, a finish that lingers longer than you expect, and a mineral salinity that pulls you back for another sip even as it refuses to give much away. There is no generosity here. But there is honesty, and a directness that warmer, richer vintages tend to smooth over. In 2013, the terroir is simply exposed, and if you’re paying attention, that’s quietly pretty.
Belgrave 2014. 66% Cabernet Sauvignon, 32% Merlot, 2% Petit Verdot. Alcohol: 13%. Wine Enthusiast 92, Decanter 90, Wine-Searcher avg 89, CellarTracker 89.5.
A proper Left Bank year — the kind that reminds you what this appellation is capable of. Pour it and give it five minutes; it opens up gradually, and that patience is rewarded. Dark cherry and cassis at the core, with tobacco leaf, cedar, and a faint graphite note that gives the whole thing a cool, mineral lift. On the palate, you get real focus and length — firm tannins that have begun to soften, a mid-palate that holds its shape, and a finish that lingers with quiet authority. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t need to. Built to age comfortably for another four or five years, though if you open one tonight, you won’t regret it.
Belgrave 2019. Approx. 65–70% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30–35% Merlot. Alcohol: 13.5–14%. Wine Enthusiast 94, Wine Advocate 90, Wine-Searcher avg 91.
The ripest and most expressive of the three, and the most ambitious. A long, warm, dry season pushed concentration and complexity to levels this estate rarely reaches — and you can feel it the moment the wine hits the glass. The nose opens with violet and dried rose, then slowly darkens into espresso, dark cassis, and a ribbon of dark chocolate that you didn’t quite expect. The palate is dense and supple — more generous than the 2014, more complete than the 2013 — with a texture that coats rather than grips. You’ll want to hold it in the mouth a little longer than usual. The tannins are ripe and well-integrated, though the wine still needs three to five years to fully come together; open it now, and you’re catching it mid-sentence. The alcohol is higher than in the other two vintages, but the fruit carries it without strain. By most accounts, the finest Belgrave in a generation. Tasting it, that’s not hard to believe.
A Note on Microoxygenation
Rolland is associated with microoxygenation — the controlled introduction of oxygen after fermentation to soften tannins and open fruit. The 2013, with its angular tannins and unresolved oak, is the vintage in which that technique is most keenly felt in its absence.
Open the 2013 now — a cool evening, something earthy on the plate. The 2014 is drinking well and has a few years left. The 2019 needs time; open it now, and you’re catching it mid-sentence. Taken together, they make a quiet but compelling case: the terroir is real, the winemaking is disciplined, and the label on the bottle is the least interesting thing about what’s inside it.























Comments