It was a difficult vintage.

When you hear that phrase, rest assured that it’s code.  What it means, though, is simple.  Replace the word “difficult” with the word “shitty” and you’ll get the gist.

So when I read Parker’s review of this wine, saying that they did a nice job in this difficult vintage (paraphrased), I was less than optimistic.  But still, with 90 (Gambero Rosso Magazine) – 91 (RP)  points, it was definitely worth a gander. 

Now then, I should make it known that I got the bottle for free.  I write articles for the monthly newsletter at the wine shop where I work, and this was one of my assignments (and as I type this, it’s over a week late).  I really enjoy doing this, as it gives me a chance to taste wines that i wouldn’t ordinarily buy for myself - such as $30 Chianti from a less than stellar vintage – and do my best to objectively review them. 

I cracked the bottle open at about 1:00PM and gave it the old swirl, sniff and taste knowing that I’d be coming back to it later.  There wasn’t much in the way of body, but I was impressed with the acidity and length.  The nose was tight and fairly unimpressive.  It looked like Sangiovese with its nice medium ruby color and orange-ish highlights, but that’s hardly a redeeming factor. 

After some errands and some dinner (thanks Libi), I came back home around 9:00 and poured myself a glass.  It was like a different wine.  The nose had opened up beautifully and showed a lot of subtlety and elegance.  The fruit was lean, reminiscent of tart cherries, black currants and plums.  There were aromas of tobacco, violet and vanilla and a nice minerality.  In the mouth, it was a lightweight wine, but very well balanced.  The fine tannin and fairly high acidity provided good structure.  All in all, I was really very impressed with this wine from a “difficult” vintage.  It just goes to show what a careful and quality oriented producer can coax out of the vine, even when nature doesn’t necessarily cooperate.

Special occasions should undoubtedly be marked by special wines, but the question is often “Is this occasion special enough to open that extra special bottle?”  If you’re anything like me, the answer is almost always no. 

The limited collection (limited due mainly to financial restrictions, but also to a similar “Is this wine special enough to buy?” mentality that I may have to discuss later) of cellar-worthy wine that I keep is very dear to me.  The bottles, because they are so few, almost take on a life of their own.  I remember exactly where I was when bought them, or who gave them to me and why.  I remember the bottle of 2002 Pride Mountain Cabernet Sauvignon being handed to me in their tasting room on top of Spring Mountain followed by the words “We want to give this to you.  Thanks for representing our wines so well in your store.”  I remember the bottle of 2001 Casa Lapostolle Clos Apalta, which we got in at work by mistake (and far, far cheaper than it should have been); I bought a few bottles at “cost” and drank them greedily.  There is only one left now, and I likely won’t be parting with it soon.  And then there’s the bottle of 2001 Vieux-Telegraphe, still at work, still stashed away, waiting for the day that I feel like I can throw 60 bucks at something that I won’t touch for years.  

I have a really hard time opening bottles like these.  I never feel like an occasion is special enough to warrant popping those corks.  There have been times that I’ve considered it, even decided on it, and then once I raise the blade of my Laguiole to the capsule, I stop myself.  I convince myself that the bottle of Ribera del Duero that I bought last week on closeout will be fine.  And the bottle goes back into the collection.

My thought process in this is fundamentally flawed.  The bottle should make the occasion special, not the other way around.  Wine is meant to be enjoyed, and if I constantly balk at the opportunity to open a bottle, I’m ruining my own experience.

Recently, I made a little splurge.  I bought a half bottle of 2005 Maximin Grunhaus Abtsberg Auslese to sip on while getting tattooed.  The tattoo is wine geekery in and of itself, but that’s another story (and I will show it off once it’s healed).  This bottle wasn’t terribly expensive, but I’m really not at a point in my life where I’m totally comfortable spending almost $30 on 375ml of wine.  And being a 2005, it was obviously a little on the young side.  However, once I opened it, I was thrilled with my decision. 

The ‘05 German vintage is a modern classic.  More acidic and more structured than the ‘03, and overall more richness than the slightly thin ‘04, it seems to have the best of all worlds.  And this Grunhaus was no exception to that.  It was a beautiful bright, golden straw color with subtle green highlights.  The nose was overflowing with fruit.  Green apple, lime, grapefruit and peach aromas dominated, with subtle notes of smoky mineral and petrol, as well as sage.  As it became a little warmer, there was a distinct note of cotton candy.  On the palate, the wine was intensely rich, but punctuated with a very bright, very firm acidity which was almost sharp on the tongue.  Incredibly ripe and impeccably balanced all the way through, this wine finished almost a minute after being swallowed.  The mineral quality came back in the finish with a hint of wet stone.