Thomas Cottrell is Bellevue Club’s wine consultant and the owner of La Cantina Wine Merchants.
Normally, a December wine article would focus on what wines to use during the holiday season. But I’m going in a different direction this time: wines to serve on a 50th birthday. I recently helped a fellow celebrate his 50th; fortunately, he was born in a great vintage. Our host was a fanatical
and extraordinarily generous collector. The wines accompanied two spectacular meals, each lasting nearly five hours. These tastings, spread over a Saturday and Sunday, were the sort one reads about in the glossy food or wine magazines. They were wines that I’d never tasted before, and likely will never taste again. I was in heaven. I hesitate to tell you about them—it seems like bragging. But I also thought many of you would be interested, at least in the highlights.
A Champagne—1955 Veuve Clicquot Brut, poured from a magnum that had never left the cellars in Rheims until earlier this year.
Amazing. Two white wines—a 1955 Chablis “Fourchaume,” Premier Cru from Bouchard; it came directly from the cellars in Beaune. And a 1945 Montrachet from Domaine Thevenin, an estate that no longer exists. Almost no white wines last a half-century or more; these two bottles, meticulously cared for, did. Not one, not two, but five bottles of 1955 Grand Cru red Burgundy from the famous Domaine Leroy. On my personal scale of one to five stars, four
of these wines rated the full five stars; two of those I scored as five-and-a-half stars. An 1865, that’s not a misprint, La Romanee—another Grand Cru red Burgundy made in the same year Lincoln was shot. It was marvelous stuff, sweet, elegant and fine. Six stars. A 1953 Ch. Lafite-Rothschild, served from a magnum: the finest Lafite I’ve ever tasted, classic in its polish and complexity. The nose alone was extraordinary. Two of the most written about wines of the 20th century, the 1945 Ch. Mouton-Rothschild followed by the 1947 Ch. Cheval-Blanc, both from magnums. The Mouton tasted like no other wine I’ve ever had, not quite Bordeaux, certainly not Burgundy; but unique, with a touch of Port and a dash of California. I should have scored this one six stars, but what score could I then give the Cheval, which was, amazingly, even better? So five-and-a-half stars for the first, six for the latter with its exotic sweet/earth/spice nose, inky color and extraordinary length. Later, it got me thinking about
a question a young woman asked me a night or two before this
extravaganza.
I was pouring at a charitable event here in Bellevue, pouring wines that pleased most of the folks present (at least they said they liked them), when this young volunteer asked me how to tell a good wine from a bad one. She explained that she rarely drank wine, knew little about it, but wanted to learn more. How could she do that? I gave her the answer I always give: nobody takes a class or reads a book in order to find out how to appreciate a strawberry, a juicy steak, a pickle or a piece of chocolate. Your mouth and your nose tell you what tastes good and what doesn’t. Trying all kinds of wine is the only way to discover what you really like.
I doubt she would have enjoyed most, or any of the wines I tasted last weekend. But she might have. The same is true for you. I find that very few Americans really enjoy older wines—they are very much an acquired taste. On the other hand, your palate is distinctly your own and you might have been as ecstatic as I was to be tasting those wines. One thing I know for sure: wine is meant to be enjoyed, no matter how young or old it is, or how many zeros there may be in the price tag. The 1947 Ch. Cheval-Blanc or 2000 Côtes-du-Rhône (the wine I enjoyed last night)—should please you.
