Back when I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing, when I had considerably less knowledge but considerably more enthusiasm, back when I wanted to learn everything and more, I met a bloke by the name of Graham Gardner, who acted as a proper old-fashioned Mr 10% for a number of winemakers in Burgundy and beyond. Graham in turn introduced me to Nicolas Potel and his wines.
At this stage in my career I knew the geography of Burgundy, knew most of the technical stuff, but hadn’t quite grasped the spirit of it. I didn’t quite get it. I think it’s fair to say that Nicolas was the man that changed this, got me started on the road.
I certainly got Nicolas pretty much from the start. A couple of years older than me and blessed with a dynamis that both shone off him and permeated everything around him, he loved what he did and he loved showing you his work. Ask him a stupid question and he would love answering it. Biodynamics, oxygen, racking, clones, limestone – whatever. He could explain anything in a way that I got and remembered. His passion rubbed off on me. And he spoke for the most part in my favourite language by far: Franglais.
The timing was good. The first vintage I tasted was 1997; the first one I really sold in any great quantity was 1999, by which time my colleague Clarethound and I were the gatekeepers to any Burgundy was deemed too scarce, or too special, to go into the main EP offer. If you bought anything 1999 that was vaguely obscure from Maison Potel from BBR it is likely that you got it off me.
Tasting with Nicolas was invariably a marathon, albeit one that I always looked forward to. I often thought that maybe he made too many wines, and wondered just how good he would have been with a small domaine with some serious vineyards. What would he have done at Pousse d’Or, if things had worked out that way? What would he have achieved at a domaine with Cathiard or Mugnier-type holdings? My best guess is that he would have (a) made some humdingers and then (b) got bored with it. He loved, I think, the variety, the challenge of the negociant business. And he loved pulling off a deal.
I like to think that he made wines with his soul, with his spirit. As such they could be variable from wine to wine, and from vintage to vintage, though he nailed most. I particularly recall his 2007s: I vintage that I got, and one that he certainly did, though one that much of the “press” didn’t on account of their lightness. Whenever I explain to someone that balance is as important as pretty much anything else in a wine the words are coming from him discussing the 2007 vintage en route to dinner at La Ciboulette sometime in November 2008. Likewise Volnay being Chambolle’s twin in the Côte de Beaune.
My most recent experience of his wines was of those not under his label, though clearly by his hand. A master blender, with a particular knack for juicing up a Bourgogne Rouge with just the right type and just the right amount of superior fruit to set it apart. The same goes for village wines juiced up with some premier cru fruit.
And what I recall throughout is that he was that rare gift from God: someone that you just wanted to be around, someone whose presence made you happy. Someone you wanted to talk to: be it about the waning moon, the benefits or otherwise of racking, or just how good the food is at Bistro X or Y. The man was just enormous fun, and will be much-missed.
Rest in peace Nico.
