The clock of time is a wild child...” - Priyansha Vashi
Lately, as it seems I have a lot more time
on my hands, although it is somewhat abbreviated compared to 30 years
ago, I often muse upon the logistics of when to open a bottle. During the
recent holiday, I wanted to find something red and with a little bit of age on
it, maybe 10 years. Along with that, I needed a crisp fresh white wine to complement
the foods we were serving along with the preferences of the other folks
enjoying the wine with me. Both wines needed to be opened at the right time. In
the case of the white wine, that was a little bit easier. But in the case of
the red, a 2013 Barolo, I wondered just what I might be getting myself into.
No, not anything dramatic. More of a desire to pinpoint the right bottle at the
right time kind of thing. And if it didn’t work, well, there are plenty more willing
participants in that cold, dark room, where they huddle in peace waiting for
their moment to shine.
The Barolo, a single vineyard 'Pernanno' 2013
from Cascina Bongiovanni presented a bit more of a complex challenge.
Reviews had pegged this wine as maybe being a little too oaked, and slightly hot in the alcohol profile. I took that
into consideration to go along with the smokiness of the turkey. The grapes, grown in Castiglione Falletto, had
good enough of a pedigree, for sure. And the 2013 vintage, now ten years old, received a fair share of laudatory acclaim. What better way to find out than to
pop a bottle and see where we were at?
Folks write about the strong tannins of Barolo, but
for years that sensation has eluded me. I didn’t feel it. Maybe it was growing
up on California wine. Or going to En Primeur in Bordeaux for years. Now there
were a lot of tannic wines I tasted in Napa and Bordeaux. But Piedmont? Nahhh,
I didn’t get that gene.
But this wine was très tannic. I decanted it rather ruggedly,
as the picture denotes. We were going to spank this baby and welcome it into
the cruel world of the living. The wine did not back down, came out screaming,
bawling. But it did calm down, eventually. And in the period of an afternoon
and evening, the life of that wine was laid out for all to see and feel.
So often, we labor over when is the right time to pull
the cork. I think that humankind wrestles with that issue over many levels. In
the case of wine, though, what I have found is that there is an infinitesimal number
of times when the conditions are perfect. Conversely, there are rare few times
when it isn’t the right time. Sure, we’ve all experienced those moments when
the spirit of the wine inside the newly opened bottle of wine had passed years
ago. Such is life. And death.
What I have learned, in my dotage, is to not sweat the
small stuff. If the wine doesn’t feel right, open another one, chances are very
few of us who have wine collections will live to see all of our bottles opened
up in our lifetime. So, take that into consideration. And in the meantime,
learn to pivot when pivoting is needed, and appreciate and be grateful for the
small miracles that open up in front of us every day.
P.S. The Barolo was just fine, it was the right time.
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