On Well Aged Wine and a Taste of the Future

A little birthday thought...

On the subject of substantial red wines, I wonder who will agree with me that they are generally unimpressive in their fatty, juicy, flamboyantly fruity youth. They are like babies’ bottoms or their smooth and rosy cheeks: sure, they are preternaturally soft and new, but if they weren’t something would be terribly amiss. Really interesting wines are those with a few wrinkles on them.

Even at ten years from their vintage, fine Cabernet or Syrah or Pinot really have no business being praised for still delivering showy fruit and expressive texture. This is barely middle age for fine wine. They ought to be moving into their prime at this point. Sniffing and sipping then praising the thing for its survival skills is no different than slapping a 21-year-old kid on the back and exclaiming, “well, you made it, good for you!” We don’t congratulate wine for moving into its prime.

It’s only at 20 years and beyond when a wine ought to begin to receive acknowledgment for still giving pleasure, but even that feat really shouldn’t be its most redeeming quality. At 40 years of age—something equivalent to a wine reaching 20 and still delivering complexity, interest, fruit-based flavor, and aromas—a man should receive acknowledgment for being a full-fledged adult, for taking on adult responsibility, and for his accomplishments. We note at this point that he is probably halfway through the journey. And so it is for the 20-or-so fine wine.

It’s only when the wine reaches 40 or 50 years of age and still drinks well, still satisfies, and still delivers interesting and admirable delights that we remark on these qualities primarily in the context of its age and its survival skills. It’s not unlike celebrating the man who turns 60 and who we can say is accomplished, has lived life well and responsibly, is experienced, and might even possess wisdoms worth paying attention to as they hold forth with a glass in their hand.

The bones do start to creak a bit at this age, just as the tannins of that 1973 Cabernet have begun to break down, as the ripeness has turned to tertiary elements and the nose is more dried fruit and herbs and wood. The 60-year-old man might turn his thoughts to the past at times, just as that well-aged cab is judged against its once youthful self.

I happen to like older wines more than young ones. I always have. I used to collect Stony Hill Chardonnay and it was the 30 and 40-year-old bottligs that were the most interesting and most sippable. I actually felt very protective of them. They were some of the few wines I’d save for serving to certain people…certain people who were likewise likely to appreciate them for their survival skill as well as their well-developed character.

I once went on a journey to discover the oldest drinkable Sauvignon Blancs. This was a chore. At the time, in the 1990s, it was difficult to find one that was satisfying. They all mostly died by their 10th or 15th birthday. Nonetheless, I’d peruse auction catalogs from Butterfields and other houses usually looking for the “mixed case” of wines. These were the lots you’d generally find a one-off bottle of something older. They never pleased or fascinated or intrigued like the old Stony Hill Chards. But it was a fun search and journey.

Being partial to California, today I look for late 1980s and early 1990s cabs. I’m very curious how 20 and 30-year-old California Syrah tastes at the same stage, but these are very hard to come by. You can find Merlot of this age. I think of the Matanzas Creek Merlots from the late 80s and early 1990s, acknowledged at their release to be the best Merlots made in America. Zinfandels and Petite Sirahs from this era can also be found and in some cases remain in very nice shape. But my best bets are the Napa and Sonoma Cabs. WineBid is a good source for these bottlings.

But the prize is going to be the Cabernet from the early 1970s and late 1960s. Finding such a bottle that still drinks well should take you back. It should put you in the mind to consider the men who made them and the setting in which they were produced. They should, if they are still sound and despite having lost most of their buoyancy and fruit, float you through a river of memories.

I turn 60 today. I’m not quite as buoyant as I used to be. I creak sometimes. And the youthful good looks I always was waiting to arrive now have no hope of catching up with me.

However, I still can give pleasure. I’m certainly as good at my job as I have ever been due only to experience. I’ve survived an up or down or two. Yet I still adore my career in public and media relations and wine politics. Moreover, I find myself willing to take more chances not only on older wines but in my work. That too has something to do with experience and knowing now where the landing spots are below the edge of the cliff.

Moreover, the degree to which at 60 years of age I am still feeling vibrant and optimistic has everything to do with the cocoon of family that surrounds me. Having found Kathy and been gifted young Henry George is undoubtedly the pinnacle achievement of my life and is responsible for the content of my character being kept safe and sound.

I have no idea yet what I’ll uncork tonight to celebrate. But I’ll do it with Kathy and Henry George. I’ll probably hold forth on some matter as HG rolls his eyes and can’t imagine. But to drive home the point for the little boy that aging isn’t so bad and can even be thrilling, I might just pop open something 30 years his senior, put a bit in a little wine glass, place it in front of him, and let him have a taste of future.