The Petrus I Never Had

This post may contain some shocking material and may not be suitable for the faint at heart wine lover. Please refrain from clenching your hands into fists and smashing them on your keyboard as you read this. Yes, injustice does run rampant in this world, and yes, it extends to wine as well.

Injustice number one: I have yet to taste a Latour, Margaux, Cheval Blanc, Ausone, or Pétrus despite my goal of tasting all the first growths by year’s end. I suppose I still have time…

Injustice number two: Wine is sensitive, “alive,” as Stacy loves to remind me in the midst of my note taking, deriding my “over analyzation” of this breathing beverage. As all living things, wine has certain basic needs. It needs love and attention for example. It needs shelter. It needs protection from the elements. It does not enjoy extremes of heat or cold. Neither does it enjoy vibrations. It does not travel particularly well and when forced to make a trip requires time to get over its jet lag. If you think I am kidding, buy a mid nineties vintage of 1er Cru burgundy while in France, pack it carefully in your suitcase, and bring it back to the United States on your trans-atlantic checked baggage. Proceed to open it up the moment you arrive home. Most likely it will not even resemble the wine from before your flight. What was I getting at? Oh yes, injustice number two: letting good wine (and in this case, great wine) go bad because of carelessness and/or insensitivity to its needs.

Let us examine Exhibit A: The widow of a fairly prominent American businessman decides to sell her house. The basement contains her husband’s (now deceased four years) walk-in cedar wine closet. It had been cooled by a Whisper Kool device or something like it. In the intervening period between his death and her decision to sell the house this device broke and only generated warm air. When we arrived on the scene the temperature was about 85 degrees Fahrenheit, which is suitable only for wine destined to become Madeira, NOT collectible Bordeaux and Burgundy.

The Rieslings were weeping as we made our way into the room. Slowly their tears accumulated at the lips of bottles and silently dripped onto the carpeted floor. I nearly cried as well, seeing these poor bottles so neglected. Insanity! The 1967 Pétrus (eleven bottles of this lousy vintage) bled, the pool of blood collecting on the ground below. It was obvious these wines were unhappy and calling desperately for help.

And a vertical of Latour, 1921, 1923, and 1945. 1945!!! Probably cooked. Why god, why?!?

But what could we do? Would you buy a wine on its deathbed, even if it said 1964 La Mission Haut Brion? It is hard to justify really. On one hand, the bottles represent trophies for the neophyte collector. Even if the wine is no longer wine but unpalatable liquid, the label excites and entrances nearly enough to merit a cash exchange. Rationally however, one must come to the realization that a bottle is nearly worthless and the money could be better spent on a living wine that would afford a pleasant imbibing experience. The problem with wine geeks like us is this: we want the experience, awful or amazing, of opening wines we usually can only read about because of limited funds. Thus, we were tempted by the treasure, most likely confederate currency, in the widow’s basement.

We made her an offer of a rather low sum, to which she responded that someone else would be coming to look at the cellar as well. He offered more. We lost out.

Or did we? I called back later to ascertain the status of the wine. Sold? Thrown out? Still there in the wine cellar-cum-sauna yearning for cooler air?

She has yet to be rid of her late husband’s wine collection. I bargained. Perhaps, if we could taste some of the wine…it would help us determine whether it has worth beyond the value of the pretty labels on the bottles…one or two…it couldn’t hurt. She agreed.

And then reneged. The wine is to sell with the house. Otherwise this post would have included tasting notes for 1964 DRC Echezeaux and 1967 Pétrus, the two wines we had earlier decided would be appropriate as she had multiple bottles of them. Despite 1967 being a “terrible” vintage, I was eager to try it. I mean, come on, it’s Pétrus.

Alas, I am still a Pétrus shy of achieving my first growth goal.