Old Age Ain't for Sissies
Bette Davis was right. Or Paul Newman, or whoever first said it. Old age definitely isn't for sissies.
A friend of mine has a father considerably wealthier than I, and who consequently has a much larger and more expensive wine collection. He’s also older (than I am, I mean. At least I think so. I hope so.) – anyway, he has an aging problem.
I don’t mean the aging problem with which we’re all afflicted – you know, chronological and accelerating carbon decay, with the lovely spectre of Death at the end of the slide. Nope. I mean that Katie’s Dad is reluctant to share his “special” wines, despite their abundance and his ability to replace them with new stars. That’s a pity, not least because unless he drinks far more than I do, those wines are going to disappoint him by the time he gets around to cracking them open.
Most wines simply don’t age well, or at least don’t age well indefinitely. I’ve been discovering this sad truth for myself, most recently at the birthday dinner we cooked for Lisa. She requested an all-Southern menu, and I struggled to find something special in the wine cooler for her.
I settled on the 1998 Deerfield Ranch Winery Merlot, fortified with a splash of Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc. I bought this at a Sonoma tasting room back in 2000 or 2001, and I remember how tasty I found it. It was more than $30 at a time when I usually spent less than $15 on a single bottle, so you know it was appealing.
We opened it with anticipation, knowing we’d be better off, pairing-wise, with a Chardonnay or Pinot Noir or Beaujolais, but resisting any such match. Merlot was as light a wine as we were prepared to attempt. It was her BIRTHDAY, after all.
Curses! I don’t think it was the fault of the okra (fried) or the chicken (fried) or the potatoes (drenched in gravy), or even the greens (flavored generously with ham). Nope, this Merlot had not been improved in the bottle. I wish we’d tried it a few years ago.
The same disappointment struck me when I sampled the remaining bottle of the 1999 Gallo of Sonoma Barelli Creek Vineyard Zinfandel. I LOVED LOVED LOVED this wine when first I had it, back in ’04 or ’05. This time around, it was limp and lacking in the full flavor I remembered.
Maybe it’s the Americans that don’t age so well. Wines, I mean. Because the 1999 Allegrini Palazzo Della Torre was wonderful when I opened it a few months ago, much better than it was young. Ditto for the 1998 Marques de Caceres Rioja Reserva. This reliable Spanish red, a Tempranillo, was much smoother and more elegant with some age on it.
The 1997 Tomassi Ripasso, a huge favorite of mine back in 2002, is still aging beautifully. We sampled it a few months ago; it’s even better than it was, and since I have two bottles left, I’m hoping it continues to kick butt next year, and the year after. I’m also hopeful for my remaining ’91 Barbaresco; it certainly was superb LAST year. Those Italians know how to age gracefully.
Not so the Australians, to judge by the Rosemount Merlot I uncorked the other night. I’d somehow overlooked it in the rack – it was the 2000, and before you sneer, let me just say that the 1994 Rosemount Merlot was the wine that jumpstarted my love affair with red wine. Repeat after me: It’s not the price; it’s the taste.
This later version might have been tasty once, but that time was past. Some things get better with age, of course – paychecks, perhaps, or the stories we tell about prom night. As for this weak sister, it served to lace my black bean soup. (Which was killer, if I say so myself.)
A friend of mine has a father considerably wealthier than I, and who consequently has a much larger and more expensive wine collection. He’s also older (than I am, I mean. At least I think so. I hope so.) – anyway, he has an aging problem.
I don’t mean the aging problem with which we’re all afflicted – you know, chronological and accelerating carbon decay, with the lovely spectre of Death at the end of the slide. Nope. I mean that Katie’s Dad is reluctant to share his “special” wines, despite their abundance and his ability to replace them with new stars. That’s a pity, not least because unless he drinks far more than I do, those wines are going to disappoint him by the time he gets around to cracking them open.
Most wines simply don’t age well, or at least don’t age well indefinitely. I’ve been discovering this sad truth for myself, most recently at the birthday dinner we cooked for Lisa. She requested an all-Southern menu, and I struggled to find something special in the wine cooler for her.
I settled on the 1998 Deerfield Ranch Winery Merlot, fortified with a splash of Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc. I bought this at a Sonoma tasting room back in 2000 or 2001, and I remember how tasty I found it. It was more than $30 at a time when I usually spent less than $15 on a single bottle, so you know it was appealing.
We opened it with anticipation, knowing we’d be better off, pairing-wise, with a Chardonnay or Pinot Noir or Beaujolais, but resisting any such match. Merlot was as light a wine as we were prepared to attempt. It was her BIRTHDAY, after all.
Curses! I don’t think it was the fault of the okra (fried) or the chicken (fried) or the potatoes (drenched in gravy), or even the greens (flavored generously with ham). Nope, this Merlot had not been improved in the bottle. I wish we’d tried it a few years ago.
The same disappointment struck me when I sampled the remaining bottle of the 1999 Gallo of Sonoma Barelli Creek Vineyard Zinfandel. I LOVED LOVED LOVED this wine when first I had it, back in ’04 or ’05. This time around, it was limp and lacking in the full flavor I remembered.
Maybe it’s the Americans that don’t age so well. Wines, I mean. Because the 1999 Allegrini Palazzo Della Torre was wonderful when I opened it a few months ago, much better than it was young. Ditto for the 1998 Marques de Caceres Rioja Reserva. This reliable Spanish red, a Tempranillo, was much smoother and more elegant with some age on it.
The 1997 Tomassi Ripasso, a huge favorite of mine back in 2002, is still aging beautifully. We sampled it a few months ago; it’s even better than it was, and since I have two bottles left, I’m hoping it continues to kick butt next year, and the year after. I’m also hopeful for my remaining ’91 Barbaresco; it certainly was superb LAST year. Those Italians know how to age gracefully.
Not so the Australians, to judge by the Rosemount Merlot I uncorked the other night. I’d somehow overlooked it in the rack – it was the 2000, and before you sneer, let me just say that the 1994 Rosemount Merlot was the wine that jumpstarted my love affair with red wine. Repeat after me: It’s not the price; it’s the taste.
This later version might have been tasty once, but that time was past. Some things get better with age, of course – paychecks, perhaps, or the stories we tell about prom night. As for this weak sister, it served to lace my black bean soup. (Which was killer, if I say so myself.)
We're hoping our new cowgirl, Zin, ages gracefully. She's off to a good start.
posted by Winetaster | 11:31 AM
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