There are wines that you drink and don’t remember. Then there are those wines that mark time. For me, Cos d’Estournel has long been in the latter camp. I began my journey with Cos more than 10 years ago—well before I realized that I would one day be swirling glasses over alongside Alexis Thierriaz, the Asia Pacific Regional Director of Domaines Reybier, a tasting that would not only rekindle old attachments but also acquaint me with a winery that predates history: Tokaj-Hétszőlő.
This tasting wasn’t just about drinking. It was about time travel, through hills of Bordeaux and volcanic Hungarian soils, royal palaces and billionaire estates, vineyards and volcanic slopes. This is the tale of wines that trace their heritage deeper than their barrels and how they still develop.
The Story of Cos: A Hill, A Vision and Some Pagodas
The name Cos d’Estournel, which lies in Saint-Estèphe, is both familiar and revered. As Alexis reminded us, it’s not even technically a château (no baroque palazzo on this one) but a winery built in 1828. Still, Charles Gaspard d’Estournel (the founder)’s travels across Asia and India deeply influenced his vision for the estate, resulting in Cos d’Estournel’s pagoda-style winery, inspired by Eastern architecture, and its now-iconic elephant-emblazoned identity.
“The elephants were Mr. d’Estournel’s personal choice. And he turned the family coat of arms to include them instead of a lion or tiger,” Alexis said with a grin.
Over a decade ago, when I was just starting out, I had the privilege of working on a Cos d’Estournel Wine Dinner at the now-closed Santi in Marina Bay Sands, back when Jean-Guillaume Prats was at the helm. The night was memorable and so was the wine. A few years later, in 2016, I met Charles Thomas, who was then the International Commercial Director of the domaine (now Group Commercial Director), and had the opportunity to interview him at Vinexpo in Hong Kong. I’ve never stopped paying close attention to Cos since.
During the tasting, we tasted the light-but-beautifully-structured Pagodes de Cos 2017, the estate’s second wine (or not). Produced from 45-year-old vines and aged in 20% new barrels for one year, the fruit-forward wine was a vibrant garnet color. There’s a softer feeling to Pagodes than the main estate wine, something more approachable.
Then, the Cos d’Estournel 2017 itself—organic, bold, and meditative. Peppery on the nose, with a bitter edge, a green fruit core and undertones of vegetation, the wine was still tight, its potential held in abeyance. “We don’t chase opulence,” Alexis emphasized, “we pursue balance.”
“Cos d’Estournel was never meant to be opulent. We chase balance.”
– Alexis Thierriaz
Tokaj-Hétszőlő: Older Than Time Itself. Have Not we had a Little Tokay?
Then came the Hungarian surprise.
If Cos is history, Tokaj-Hétszőlő is legend. The vineyard was established in 1502 and officially classified in 1772. That’s right, even before Bordeaux’s 1855 classification! And today, it remains unique as the only vineyard still planted exclusively on the slopes of Mount Tokaj (an extinct volcano!).
“It’s a UNESCO World Heritage site,” Alexis said. “And we’re like the last man standing right on the volcano. Everything else has gone down hill to the plains.”
To put that in context, “Hétszőlő” translates to “seven vineyards” in Hungarian, named after the first classified parcels that form the estate today.
“We’re the only vineyard completely on Mount Tokaj, it’s a volcanic soul in a bottle.”
– Alexis Thierriaz
We began with the Tokaj Hétszőlő Dry Furmint 2018, a wine that halted my thoughts in their tracks. Pale yellow in the glass, nose showed flint and sulphur, fine fuel but also citrus, mineral. There was even a faint synthetic/plastic note, almost waxy, that Alexis picked up on: “In a blind tasting, you might mistake it for a Sauvignon Blanc.” The acid was sharp, and it had presence, depth and attitude—not a wine for someone faint of heart.
Next came the 2017 Édes Szamorodni, a sweet wine style from Tokaj that is much less celebrated than sweet Tokaji, but utterly underappreciated. With scents of dried leaves, coconut, sweet corn and an almost hauntingly nostalgic touch of walis tambo (tiger grass brooms, for the Filipino hearts out there in the place), this was not your average sweet wine. It had acidty that stuck around like a snappy comeback.
“It’s our No. 1 seller globally,” Alexis said. “People are shying away from ultra-sweet. It’s so good at 60g/L—balanced, elegant, versatile.”
A Peek at Royalty: Tokaji Aszú & Essencia
But the pinnacle? Tokaji Aszú. A wine so cherished that it once outsold Château Lafite a hundredfold in the 18th century. It was the beverage of kings and emperors. Literally. And the way it’s produced is a little fable in its own right.
For a 5 puttonyos Aszú, five 5kg baskets of botrytized grapes are combined/added–by hand – to a 100L base wine. They are picked berry by berry by Romani women whose families have trained generations of vineyard workers. “Their fingers are tiny. They know what to pick,” Alexis smiled.
The abstruse Essencia came next, a syruptious wine, produced free-run, so that rot-riddled grapes drip out their nectar drop by drop, collected by nothing more than gravity. It’s 402g/L residual sugar with only 3–5% alcohol, so it’s more an elixir than wine.
It used to be sold in pharmacies as a medicine. “Even today in some parts of Hungary you’ll see bottles kept behind pharmacy counters,” Alexis told us.
They don’t make Essencia every year. It requires extreme conditions combined with waiting and luck. And if you’re lucky enough to have tasted it, you’ll understand why some chefs use it in place of caramel for Michelin-starred desserts.
“Essencia is the heart of Tokaj. It’s not wine—“it’s liquid heritage.”
Reflections
It’s not often that you taste two wines so diverse in geography, profile and philosophy in one moment and find a line that ties them together. But there’s a twist: Cos d’Estournel and Tokaj-Hétszőlő are not just wineries. They are monuments to patience, enduring symbols of sustained attention—and attention-getting. To vision. To time itself.
As I tasted through each bottle, memories of that dinner at Santi and that interview at Vinexpo came flooding back—not as professional benchmarks, but as emotional signposts. Wines like these are wines that do not simply age meekly. They live well.
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