Chapoutier’s Hermitage Chante-Alouette hails from the Northern Rhône, entirely crafted from Marsanne grown on the storied slopes of the Hermitage hill. The 1998 vintage sits somewhat in the shadow of its 1999 successor, but it still offered enough backbone to age for decades—on paper, at least. This cuvée often undergoes fermentation and ageing in oak, turning the spotlight onto Marsanne’s richer side, while Chapoutier typically aims to safeguard brightness and an almost mineral, floral edge.

At twenty-seven years old (and assuming decent cellaring), this particular bottle seems to have crossed the finish line. The nose veers towards cognac territory, filled with raisin and caramel tones, joined by wool, wax, and roasted nuts. There's a mild savoury undertow, but overall it feels a bit deflated. Some vestigial acidity tries to hold on, yet the palate comes off tired and short. I do enjoy the mellow quality—like a cream soda left out overnight, minus the fizz—but it’s hard to avoid the sense that we caught it too late. It’s nevertheless a snapshot of how white Hermitage can evolve, and even in its twilight, it offers a glimpse of the warm spice and quiet depth that once made it sing. If anything, this tasting reminds me how mercurial older Marsanne can be—sometimes you strike gold, and sometimes you’re merely left with a wistful memory in the glass.