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Sunday, April 11, 2021

Are you still here? [And when in hell are you gonna get off our grass?]

Looking through my wine closet I came upon a couple of bottles I’d forgotten. And probably for good reason. They’re old. They’re white. And when they were first released, they were, let’s say, a little over weighted in the testosterone department. In other words, as the #NewGen's say, boomer wine.

One was a California (Napa Valley) Sauvignon Blanc, the other was a French (Burgundy) Corton Charlemagne. Both from the 1980’s. They’d both achieved a dark, golden, sunset-y color.

I have a place, high in my wine closet, which I call the bardo-balcony. It’s where I put old wines that have given up the ghost. But the labels might be pretty, or the wines might have a special meaning for me. Or a memory. So, I can’t quite throw them in the recycle bin. I’ll let those who come to clean up, after I’ve given up the ghost, deal with it (hopefully not for a while).

But it reminds me that every living thing on earth has a cycle. And wine, like people, can live for ages. Or it can leave a little earlier than the rest of us.


Not to go all maudlin on y’all, but my list of colleagues who have left this world is getting longer every day. So much, that I’m having a hard time remembering some of the ones who bailed before halftime. I was thinking of making an Excel sheet (I do love my spreadsheets), but haven’t gotten around to it. And really, there is no reason, barring schadenfreude. I don’t take pleasure in the early demise of friends or wines. But it seems when it’s time – it’s time.

And that’s something I’ve been following in our striated society. Man, the gen X’ers and the millennials really want the boomers off the planet – post haste. “You boomers have flogged up everything,” a gen-Xpert recently declared in a missive to me. No stranger to derision (and cyber-bullying), I un-clammed up and told him I was tired of listening to his crap. You want the world? It’s all yours, babe!

Back on the wine trail, there’s a process for clearing out the grizzled bottles, which can’t quite work with the humans. Well, not that some societies haven’t tried. But who wants to emulate Nazi Germany in any endeavor?

So, what to do with those superannuated specimens in ye olde wine cellar?


Last week, I advanced a plan for my own vinous geriatric purge. Even the bardo-balcony went from SRO to overflowing. So, I’ve starting moving roughly 1/3 of my wine collection out of my life. But that’s not really what I’m aiming for with this essay. Wine is easy. People are not.

I’m sensing an impatience from the younger generation with the preceding ones. This is nothing new. For my generation, our anthem was “We want the world and we want it now.” And we got it, all wrapped up inside a plain brown paper bag, loaded with opportunities (and also a smattering of crap).

I’d like to think most of us dealt with it as best we could, although I’m sure that won’t stave off the most fervent of naysayers who want to blame income inequity, global warming and any number of other societal maladies and injustices on the folks that came before them. Go ahead, kick one, kick all. Feel better now?


That’s what I imagine those two recent bottles of white wine might have said if they could talk. I mean, they were perfectly fine when young. After all, I was the one who neglected to look after them and see to it that they were opened up and enjoyed in their prime. I let them walk the plank and saunter into senility, only to bemoan that fact that they didn’t go the distance.

At least boomers cannot blame that kind of thing on the younger generations. They’ve got their hands full with the bag of crap they’ve just been handed. So, if they’re a little raw and unfiltered in their assessment of the older generation, give them time. It took the boomers a generation or more to realize that their parents (you know, the ones who saved the world from totalitarianism and fascism?) actually did something, gave us something of value. Like, for instance, a free world?

So, to all the subsequent generation(s), yeah, we’re still here. But just for a minute or two. Don’t worry, it won’t be long. I promise you. 

The hour is getting late



And in other news….Two white wines walk into a bar

A couple of younger white wines from Italy that I’ve recently enjoyed:


Podernuovo a Palazzone Nicoleo

A blend of Grechetto from Umbria and Chardonnay from Tuscany. I tried the 2018

We’ve just hit 80⁰F in North Texas, so our brief flirtation with spring will soon be the stuff of memory. Fortunately, when summer hits, I hope to have a stash of this wine to assuage the pain of the inferno. Lovely aromas, crisp and clean, nothing cloying about this wine, just a “pop and serve” kind of wine. Dry as a bone, good fruit, about $25. Maybe a bit high for the market in which it competes against, but it’s from the Bulgari family. Cheaper than buying a watch from them, for sure.

 


Vadiaperti Fiano di Avellino

From Campania, we had the 2016 vintage, so a wine with a little bit of age, but also from a volcanic property. Not a typical Fiano from Avellino, in my memory. This one, when first opened, had a whiff of soy sauce. Not as off putting as one might think. It dissipated and found equipoise. Had it with a pasta dish with crawfish and spicy cheesy, buttery, creamy sauce. Yeah, I know, no fish with dairy. Well, start with telling that to the folks who live in Campania. And then preach it to the Romans. And good luck with that. It was a fabulous combination and the (very strange and beautiful) wine disappeared. As did the pasta. So much for this tasting note. Around $20.

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