Blogging about eating or drinking some really exquisite, rare treat always feels funny to me. Mostly, I like to do it for the sake of aiding my memory, generally enfeebled by bourbon-pickled brain cells. And I like reading other people’s tasting notes too. But conversely, it feels a bit like bragging, which kind of sucks.
Despite that, I just had to write last night’s tasting notes down, both for posterity’s sake and for sharing. It’s a rare opportunity (for me, anyhow) to sit down with three good friends and drink five bottles of aged Bordeaux in great condition. Such an occasion requires some documenting, even if as the writer I’m the only one who ever bothers to read it.
We gathered in a cleaned out (sort of), empty cinder block building in Detroit, four of us with five wines, a small folding table, and a few chairs.
1979 Haut-Bages Liberal (Paulliac)
There are sensations, some hard to describe, unique to older wines. Initially quite musty, damp, and funky, the aromatics on this wine gave way to a lot more lively fruit. From the onset, it tasted fresh and alive with some grippy tannin in the finish; but as the evening wore on and we re-visited the wine two more times, light, fleshy fruit flavors dominated with a really bright, youthful acidity. Delightful stuff.
1978 Prieure-Lichine (Margaux)
Aromatically challenged to start, this might have evolved the most over the course of the evening. Early on, there was just a bit of soft fruit on the nose. Eventually, it became noticeably more menacing (in an exciting way) with darker, woodier notes. Tasted perfectly fine from the get go, albeit with a bit of a vegetal finish, but it got considerably more nuanced, meaty, and leathery as the evening wore on with a much more focused, almost minty quality at the end of each sip.
1981 Palmer (Margaux)
Steve commented during our first glass of this that he thought 1981 was a bit underrated, and based on our limited evidence, I think we all agreed. There was a big, distinctive cabernet sauvignon nose with just a bit of a gnarly, rustic edge to it. Immediately captivating. Definitely the weightiest, fullest, richest of our three oldest wines. Quite tannic but still fruity, acidic, and ripe. Killer wine worthy of the venerable name (and totally bad ass label).
1998 Gruaud Larose (St. Julien)
Disclaimer: I love this producer. It’s rustic, edgy, and funky, and I think it’s magnificent. I’ve had the good fortune of tasting some great vintages of this wine, and it’s never disappointed me. This was no exception. Dense and still young, though not so wound up as to seem premature to have opened it. As the evening wore on, the aroma showed more juicy, grapey, dark fruit qualities and finished with a sharp, savory characteristic.
1996 Leoville-Poyferré (St. Julien)
In a word, this was INTENSE. Still too young. All coiled up and restrained, just about ready to explode. This is on its way up to a glorious place. Toasty, woody aromatics. Soft tannins. Dark fruit and lively finish but still reserved. This just envelopes one’s entire palate and finishes with a subtle stony edge. It’s a big wine, but it was still quite elegant. Great drinking now, even better later.
I’d discussed with Steve in the past how it seems like there are just certain nights when everything clicks. This was one of those nights: Five older wines, each one alive and entirely spot on. We should have hit the casinos afterwards. (But instead we had beer, a decision with which I have no argument.)
Cellared wines are an entirely different beast from what’s typically available in the store, and despite the pretentiousness one could quite easily read into the cost and/or effort involved in drinking aged wines, anyone who were to spend time with bottles like these would comprehend and possibly participate in the obsession. A perfect night.
