I like to see people drinking Krug at picnics," said Rémi Krug, the man who makes Krug Champagne. "The wine is too revered, overworshiped. How often have I heard someone say: `I've had a bottle of Krug for years. I'm saving it for something special'?"
We were sitting in an austere reception room at the Krug winery here one January day, Rémi, 62, and his less voluble brother, Henri, 65, and before us on the table, like some precious icon, a bottle of Krug's 1990 Vintage, which is just now being released.
As a chill winter rain rattled the windows, Rémi Krug described a cricket match he attended in England not long ago when the players refreshed themselves between wickets with Krug 1961. "I loved it," he said, "and I'd love to see more of it. People enjoying Krug, not just praising it."
Yes, yes, of course. But Mr. Krug is a romantic. His least expensive Champagne, at something like $100 a bottle, is more costly than the top of the line at other houses. Krug at a picnic? Why not caviar at a Knicks game or pheasant for breakfast? Occasional reverence is a small price to pay for Krug's extraordinary reputation, one the Krugs themselves have nurtured carefully for five generations.
I had long wondered about the Krug reputation. Was it justified? The wines are magnificent, but there are other great Champagnes: Bollinger, Salon, Moët's Dom Perignon, Roederer's Cristal. Even so, critics with far more experience than I invariably place Krug ahead of all of them.
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