There is something human about old wines. The transformation from muscular to subtle and fragile reminds us of what we are, of our journey. The simple, obvious charms of a young wine are much easier. It takes time and care to develop the complexity of an old wine, and allow that complexity to be expressed in the glass. Decisions made along the way change the outcome. Sometimes, in the way people are let down by their bodies, a wine is let down by its cork; frailty or contamination ending the wine before it has run a full course. As our lives are unique journeys, so are the individual bottles. "There are no good, wines, only good bottles" is a common refrain when opening even slightly aged wines.
Old wines have developed on a wandering path, with each bottle following its own route from grape to glass. The wrinkles and blemishes accentuate the wry smiles from bottles that have stood the test of time to show their unique character. Some take only a moment to come out of their shell. Others emerge grumpy (how would you feel about being stuck under a cork for 50 years), and need coaxing to say anything positive. Some are sadly gone, lost to time and unrecoverable despite our patience. Each one is a human story in liquid form.
The Tasting
A tasting group I have belonged to since 1998 (the group was started in 1974) had our first event of 2017 last week, with the theme of old wines. Our host had selected a series of old bottles from his cellar, ranging from 1964 to 1978. He selected many more bottles than we would eventually taste, as he was uncertain how some might show. Ultimately we opened 10 of 14 selected bottles with only one being uninteresting, a victim of its cork, and perhaps other influences.
The group has normally tasted blind since its inception, but on this night we chose to leave the wines open to see. Yes, there was the potential for label bias (although the obvious candidate did not place in the top three for any of the tasters), but we appreciated the opportunity to be impressed or disappointed at face value. Being able to interact with the wines on a face to label basis made the tasting more interesting; introducing a level of anticipation that would have been absent if the wines had been served blind.
The evening opened with the 1976 Louis Latour Moulin-a-Vent, which the host wanted to open just to see what might be left of a forty year old Beaujolais. It started out as a bent, wizened creature but straightened up and showed that it still had some life left. Served blind in our normal format of tasting pairs of wines it might have been written off. Instead we had a tiny bit of amazement.
We had been given twelve wines to choose from for the main portion of the tasting, and the group selected eight Cabernet and Merlot based wines. Four Bordeaux were followed by four Napa Cabernets. Of the eight bottles, one was a casualty of its cork. The 1966 Château Langoa Barton was decayed and also contaminated with TCA. While its journey was cut short, the remaining wines all told interesting tales.
The wines were opened immediately prior to serving, which did not turn out to be the best policy. Most of the bottles went through a period of sullen funk, needing time to shake off forty years or more of bottled imprisonment. On the other hand, it was interesting to watch each wine open up and greet the world. Some had a brief moment of full expression, and then faded into the background. Others were strong from the moment they were opened, and gained strength through the rest of the evening.
Vintages played a role in how the wines showed, but even the most meager vintage of the night, 1973 in Bordeaux, provided a wine that had something meaningful to say.
The Wines
1976 Louis Latour Moulin-a-Vent
Initially it appeared that the wine might be dead, as it was overwhelmed with an aggressive bottle funk. A few minutes of air revived the wine, and it shed the unpleasant aromas. Cherry fruit and spice were joined by a decaying leaves, forest floor aroma, and distinct fruit sweetness dominated the palate for a few fleeting moments. Needless to say we were all quite surprised at the pleasure the wine had to give, and appreciated the opportunity to drink it, and understand what we were having.
1964 Château Lascombes.
Opened right before we tasted it, there was once again an element of bottle funk, but nowhere near what was present in the Beaujolais. The color was beautiful, a clear, light ruby. Only a few moments after a slow and creaky opening, the wine began to emerge, and show an evolved, elegant aromatic of rose petal (blind I might have guessed Barolo), menthol, cedar and red fruit. On the palate the wine was delicate but not at all fragile. It had maintained its poise, and picked up depth and complexity over the entire course of the evening. Three hours after opening it had not lost a step. Even on re-tasting, when it was up against other, younger wines in a bit of a free-for-all the Lascombes held its ground.
1973 Chateau Petrus.
The anticipation for this wine was not in any way lessened by its humble vintage. Everyone was looking forward to it, and when we got to taste it, we were initially let down. It did not show Petrus fireworks, not at all. That was the vintage. The wine told its own story, and did it in a haunting tone. It spoke about earth and herbs, and just a little bit about exotic spices. It did not dominate the palate, but did display impressive length. The wine hovered over my palate for a very long time. This did not improve much with air. It did not collapse, but there was no transformation.
1975 Château Beychevelle
The vintage spoke again. As with the other wines it took some time to emerge from its bottled shell, gaining weight and depth over time, but also showing a hard, metallic edge. 1975 was never a friendly vintage, and the Beychevelle maintained that standoffish personality. It was healthy but mean, showing more strength than the Petrus, but none of its warmth.
1974 Robert Mondavi Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon
There was an obvious change as we moved not only to California from Bordeaux, but to a legendary vintage and wine. The Mondavi did not disappoint on any score, showing youthful, dark-fruited and minty, with an evolved cedar aroma only coming after the wine had some air. It only had a touch of gray around the temples – a distinguished wine that showed its remaining power but also grace. It kept getting better as time went on, and ultimately stood toe-to-toe with the next wine for best of the evening. Class in a glass.
1974 Clos du Val Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon
I had already anointed the Mondavi as wine of the night when this came along. This was even more youthful than the Mondavi (the cork was pristine-like a 5 year old wine), and that played a role in pushing it out ahead. There was more fruit, more depth, and less evolved character. It impressed not only with how good it tasted, but how it maintained it edge. This was the ageless wonder. Our group was divided on which was the top wine, with everyone picking either the Mondavi or this wine. Either way it was a privilege to taste both, and be able to do it at face value, rather than puzzling over identities to try and figure out what they could be.
1975 Silver Oak Alexander Valley Cabernet Sauvignon
There was no way to follow the two prior wines, and while the Silver Oak was in very good form for a forty-plus year old wine, it could not stand at the same level. There was still richness on the palate, but it had a hard, metallic edge, much like the Beychevelle. It also thinned out on the finish, so while it was a treat to experience it, the wine did not really hold my interest. I did not revisit this.
1975 Spring Mountain Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon
This was difficult for me, as I was getting impatient for the next wine, but I really wanted to try the Spring Mountain. It was in fact lovely. It walked a line between the youthfulness of the Mondavi and Clos du Val, and the aged character of the Bordeaux, picking up elements of both. In that way it was probably the most complete wine of the night, if not the most impressive. There was still a major core of fruit, but it was joined by iodine, tobacco and cedar elements. It showed as an older wine, but also as a wine that accepted its age and rejoiced rather than hid. It ended up in a close race for third place on the evening for me, though it was ultimately edged out by the complexity and delicacy of the Lascombes.
Postscript - A Promise Fulfilled
When I first joined the tasting group I was already enchanted by German Riesling, having been struck by a thunderbolt in the form of a 1995 Selbach-Oster Auslese. Our host was the owner of numerous 1971 and 1976 J. J. Prum Auslesen, which he was always happy to mention, but had not opened. It had become a bit of a running joke that I would ask about the Prums, and he would just say “maybe next time.” After we finished tasting through the red wines it was finally next time.
1976 J. J. Prum Wehlener Sonnenuhr Riesling Auslese
30-77 for those who play the peculiar game of German AP number bingo. All I can really say is that it was beautiful – light orange, showing the spice of 1976’s botrytis, but also precise and elegant. Only Prum (Ok, Egon Muller as well) does this. Even my beloved Donnhoff cannot climb to these same heights. I sat and contemplated the wine for a while, thanked our host for finally ending my torture, and tucked the wine into my memory. It was a fitting end to a wonderful evening.