This special free bottle was given to me, not because it was old (which is was), and not because it was bad (which it wasn’t), but because I asked for it. 

My (now former) boss’ cousin passed away fairly recently.  And this cousin’s widow asked Phil to go through their cellar with her (seems that the cousin was the wine buff).  So he did, and she sent him away with a case or so of older wine that she wasn’t interested in.  I looked through these wines with Phil, we takled about them, and he gave me one.  It was a 1989 St. Emilion from a Chateau I’d never heard of.  It was decent, though pretty tired.

Another bottle in that box caught my eye, however.  I asked him if I could buy it from him, and being the generous friend that he is, he gave it to me. 

The reason that he’s now my former boss is that I’ve moved.  I live in Boston now, with my wonderful, beautiful fiancee.  The reason the this particular bottle caught my eye is that it was born in the same year as her.  When she was conceived, the vineyards were green and the buds were breaking.  Her mother was about 7 months pregnant when the grapes were being harvested.  And when she was born, the wine had probably just gone into barrel. 

1976 was a great vintage for the Napa Valley.  The best examples are still young and vibrant, with plenty of fruit and fine tannin to last for several more years.  The 1976 Mayacamas Cabernet Sauvignon was no exception. 

I was actually blown away by just how young this wine seemed.  The color was still deep and solid, a nice plummy/ruby purple/red with little to no glint of brick to give away its age.  The nose was full of bright cassis fruit, subtle spice and herb notes. 

The palate was the biggest shock for me.  It was so subtle, so elegant and silky, so well integrated… I would have thought it was a Pinot Noir if I’d gotten it in a blind tasting.  The big, rich cassis and cherry fruit were framed by ample acidity and very fine tannins.  A spicy, almost olive-like quality came through on the long finish.  Overall, plenty of fruit along with continuing tannins and acidity gave this wine impeccable balance.

Impeccable balance.  And so I’ve settled in Boston with the love of my life.  This bottle and a wonderful dinner marked a great celebration.  A bottle as old as my love, that had aged almost as gracefully.  But she will continue to get better with age.  For many, many years to come.

My slacking, however, is not the pattern that I’m referring to (though, in my life, that is a pretty clear pattern as well). I sat down to type this thinking about a bottle that I drank a few nights ago. And then it occurred to me that there was another noteworthy bottle from a few weeks ago that I should make a post for. The tie that binds these bottles (along with two others that I’ve already written about) is that they’ve been free to me.

Gratis.  Handed to me with a smile. 

Working in the retail booze biz, there’s actually quite a bit of free crap to be had.  T-shirts, glasses, hip-flasks, hats, etc.  And every so often, there’s free booze.  Like partial bottles that were poured at tastings.  Or a few beers from a six-pack that was dropped (watch out for shards of glass stuck to the outside of the bottle – trust me).  But occasionally full bottles will be handed out.  Maybe it was a sample from a distributor that there’s no interest in carrying.  Maybe another bottle broke and splattered the label, making it unsaleable… Or maybe it’s a bottle of Gewurztraminer from Alsace that’s over ten years old, covered in dust, that will continue to sit on the shelf because no one (selling or buying) has much of an idea what it is, even though it’s from a great producer and a wonderful vintage (that happens to be long forgotten because it was over ten years ago).        

The wine that I’m referring to was a 1996 Zind Humbrecht Gewurztraminer Goldert.  This bottle was 13 years old when I got my hands on it. That’s TOO old for probably (more than) 99% of Gewurz on the market. I was nervous about opening it.  The ambient conditions in the wine shop are not exactly cellar-like. I imagined pulling the cork and finding a fruitless, oxidized, sherry-tasting mess.

But this wine was made by one of the top 5 or so producers in Alsace. And it was a single (Grand Cru) vineyard at that…

I cut the capsule away and sank the worm of my Laguiole into the cork. I swear to you, as soon as the cork was pierced, I could smell Gewurztraminer. The cork came out solidly and easily. And one quick whiff of the bottle confirmed that this wine was indeed still alive and well 13 years later.

The wine’s age was evident in its color.  It was a brilliant golden yellow.  A satisfying, deep color that made me know that there was something serious in my glass.  Beautiful.

The nose was that classic Gewurz mix of lychee, rose and spice.  On the palate, the wine was weighty and sweet, but balanced with a bright, lemon/lime acidity.  I was actually surprised by just how sweet it was.  The alcohol wasn’t particularly low (if I remember, it was around 13%), which led me to believe that it was going to be fully dry.  The combination of the sweetness and the richness of this wine made me think of quality, estate bottled Spatlese.  The palate was very complex and mixed this sweetness (which began to remind me of burnt sugar) with steely acidity, nutty and spicy characters, and a bright peach/apricot component.  The finish was long and elegant, bringing back the richness and caramelized sugar quality.

Free.  Amazing.   Typically, these two descriptors don’t go together.  I feel like I’m doing pretty well matching them up these days, though.  There will be one more free bottle talked about shortly.  Then maybe I’ll pick up the tab on a few…

Granted, I work in a pretty nice shop as far as wine goes.  We stock over 3,000 wines, including many rare and esoteric bottles.  I get to taste quite a bit of wine.  I get to talk quite a bit of wine.  I’ve made some incredible connections.  And I work with some of the nicest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

But, to be perfectly honest, working with (and for) the general public on a day to day basis can be trying.

Every once in a while, though, something will slip through the cracks and make my day.  Hell, make my week, even.  Some tasty morsel falls into my lap that makes me remember why I’m in this crummy business.  I wait for those moments.  I’ve put myself in a position that, when they do fall, a fair percentage of them fall to me.

A customer returned a bottle because the cork crumbled on him.  He never even got the whole thing out of the bottle.  The boss asked me if i wanted to take it home and try it.  Of course I did.  I didn’t even know what the bottle was at this point.  But we were going to write it off as a loss, so someone might as well at least try to enjoy it.

I walked into the back room to grab it, and he hands me a bottle of 1992 Burgess Library Release Cab with half a cork in it.  Well OF COURSE the cork was brittle… it’s probably been in the bottle for 14 years.  So, with a surgeon’s touch, I eased the rest of the fragile cork out of the bottle.  Success.  Phil and I tasted it.  Beautiful.

The wine was obviously older.  Its former deep ruby color had faded to garnet with sort of brick-orange highlights.  The nose was an elegant mix of mature fruit and spice.  The depth was incredible.  Baked cherry and plum notes were followed by more subtle clove, leather, vanilla and chocolate aromas.  On the palate, the wine was incredibly elegant.  The mature fruit balanced seamlessly with the wine’s firm acidity and fine grained tannins.  Oak was certainly present, but by now perfectly integrated.  This was, by far, the best free bottle of wine I’ve ever had the pleasure of drinking.

So, sometimes, you have to thank the public.  I’d like to thank that guy, wherever he is, for being unable to get the cork out of this bottle.  If you have trouble next time, sir, come in and exchange your bottle again.  I might even pour you a glass before you go.

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.

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.