Judgement Before the Applause
Paris, May 24, 1976 — The Wines, the People, and the Day Everything Shifted
On May 24, 1976, a blind wine tasting was held in a private room at the InterContinental Paris Le Grand. It was not advertised as a competition. There were no journalists seated at the table, no audience, and no suggestion that the tasting would have consequences beyond the room in which it took place.
The event was organized by Steven Spurrier, a London-born wine merchant and educator who had relocated to Paris and opened a small wine shop and school, Les Caves de la Madeleine, with his American colleague Patricia Gallagher. Spurrier’s intention was straightforward: to demonstrate to French wine professionals that California wines had reached a level of seriousness deserving comparison with France’s great regions.
The tasting was blind. The judges were French. The scoring was formal.
History would later call it the Judgment of Paris, but that name did not exist that afternoon. What existed instead was assumption — and the quiet confidence that France’s place atop the wine hierarchy was secure.
The Judges: Authority at the Table
The legitimacy of the tasting rested entirely on who judged it. These were not New World enthusiasts or sympathetic outsiders. Every judge was French, and each occupied a position of authority within the wine and culinary establishment.
Among them were:
Odette Kahn, editor of La Revue du Vin de France
Pierre Brejoux, Inspector General of the Institut National des Appellations d’Origine
**Aubert de Villaineée-Conti
Jean-Claude Vrinat, proprietor of Taillevent
Raymond Oliver, chef-owner of Le Grand Véfour
These were individuals whose professional lives were built on classification, hierarchy, and deep familiarity with France’s most revered wines. They were accustomed to recognizing pedigree — and to trusting it.
That trust would be tested.
How the Tasting Was Conducted
The tasting followed a conventional professional format:
Wines were served blind
Judges scored each wine on the 20-point scale
There were two separate flights:
White wines (California Chardonnay vs. white Burgundy)
Red wines (California Cabernet Sauvignon vs. Bordeaux)
Judges were not told which wines were French or American. They evaluated aroma, balance, structure, and finish. When the scores were collected and totaled, the results were not ambiguous.
The White Wines: Chardonnay vs. Burgundy
California Chardonnays Poured
Chateau Montelena — 1973 Chardonnay
Chalone Vineyard — 1974
David Bruce Winery — 1973
Freemark Abbey — 1972
Spring Mountain Vineyard — 1973
French White Burgundies Poured
Domaine Leflaive — Bâtard-Montrachet
Domaine Roulot — Meursault
Maison Joseph Drouhin — Beaune Clos des Mouches
Domaine Ramonet-Prudhon — Chassagne-Montrachet
Domaine de la Romanée-Conti — Montrachet
When the scores were tallied, the highest-rated white wine was Chateau Montelena’s 1973 Chardonnay.
It was not the richest wine in the flight. It was not the most generous. It was not marked by overt oak or softness. What distinguished it was structure — firm acidity, clarity of fruit, and a sense of proportion that allowed it to stand confidently beside the great white wines of Burgundy.
The Red Wines: Cabernet Sauvignon vs. Bordeaux
California Cabernets Poured
Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars — 1973 SLV Cabernet Sauvignon
Ridge Vineyards — 1971 Monte Bello
Clos Du Val — 1972
Mayacamas Vineyards — 1971
Freemark Abbey — 1969
French Bordeaux Poured
Château Mouton-Rothschild — 1970
Château Haut-Brion — 1970
Château Léoville-Las Cases — 1971
Château Montrose — 1970
These were not symbolic entries. They were first-growth and elite Left Bank estates — wines whose status had long been considered beyond challenge.
The highest-scoring red wine was Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars’ 1973 Cabernet Sauvignon.
The margin was sufficient to leave no doubt.
Who Made the Winning Wines — and How
Chateau Montelena
Chateau Montelena had been revived only a few years earlier by Jim Barrett, a lawyer by training who approached wine with restraint rather than ambition. When Barrett purchased the estate in 1972, it was neglected and largely forgotten. He was drawn to its site — water, elevation, and soils — rather than its reputation.
The 1973 Chardonnay was made by Mike Grgich, an immigrant trained in European winemaking traditions. Grgich avoided malolactic fermentation, resisted cosmetic oak influence, and prioritized acidity and age-worthiness. The wine was built to endure, not to charm.
It behaved like a classical wine because it was made with classical intent.
Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars
Warren Winiarski founded Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars in 1970 after studying philosophy at Stanford and discovering wine as an intellectual and agricultural pursuit. He believed that Cabernet Sauvignon should express place before power.
The 1973 SLV Cabernet came from a vineyard on Napa Valley’s eastern bench, in what would later be recognized as the Stags Leap District AVA. The site produced wines of natural balance and fine tannin. Winiarski avoided excessive extraction and high alcohol, allowing the vineyard’s character to define the wine.
The phrase later used to describe it — “an iron fist in a velvet glove” — was not rhetoric. It was observation.
The Immediate Aftermath
When the identities of the wines were revealed, several judges reportedly attempted to retract or amend their scores. The reaction was not born of malice, but of disbelief. The tasting had stripped away geography and reputation, leaving only the wine itself.
What the judges had tasted contradicted expectation.
The results were published days later by George M. Taber in Time magazine, and the story began to travel. Slowly at first. Then irreversibly.
What the Judgment of Paris Actually Proved
The Judgment of Paris did not declare California superior to France. Burgundy and Bordeaux did not diminish overnight. What changed was more fundamental.
The tasting demonstrated that:
Great wine could emerge outside traditional hierarchies
Discipline could rival pedigree
Judgment, when unencumbered, could surprise even experts
In that Paris hotel room, reputation carried no weight. Structure did.
What no one present could yet see was that this validation — achieved through restraint — would later invite pressures that had nothing to do with the glass.
That story begins after the applause.
This essay is part of a three-part exploration of the Judgment of Paris. For the geographic and viticultural conditions that made this tasting possible, see the companion essay in Source. For what these wines reveal decades later, continue in Savor.
Every sip tells a story. Sip slowly — some moments, like wine, reveal themselves in time.
