That presents a problem for the collector who has aged along with their wine collection. Now 250 bottles isn’t a big deal in an expanding universe. I remember a fellow who I once knew out west (well, actually, Fort Worth) who, it was said, had amassed a whopping 10,000 bottles. Which, in his salad days, when he was an outgoing, extroverted neurosurgeon, and had tastings and parties galore, didn’t present a problem. And then he became a preacher man. The auction houses had a field day.
But the auction houses won’t be having such days (salad or field) with my spartan gathering of wines, some of which are far from collectible. They represent wines given to me when I was visiting a winery in Italy, or some small cache I laid in, time and time again. Some of these wines have been with me so long they feel more like family. Like the remaining four bottles of 1989 La Chapelle Hermitage from Paul Jaboulet. In the early 1990s I laid in three cases — one of the 1985 and two of the 1989 — and drank them on special occasions, to enjoy and also to watch their progression. I’d read that Hermitage could age like Methuselah, and I was young and had all the time in the world. Now, almost forty years on, the march of time has caught up with me. And the wines are saying, “are we ready yet?” When I do finally finish those last bottles, it will be a bit sad, like losing a friend. Which is something one must get used to if one spends enough time on earth.
I also have about 50 bottles that are probably long gone. Some of them I know to be so, but I keep them for nostalgic reasons. Some of them were actually wines I made (in 1981 and 1982) here in Texas, and there was never any likelihood that they would age that well. My oldest bottle is from Italy, an Est!Est!!Est!! from 1936, the year my parents were married. I found it at an auction (in Fort Worth!) for a few dollars. I’ll probably never open it, even though it is an Amabile in style and might still have some life in it.
I brought back a 1970 Graham’s Vintage Port from Portugal, given to me by Rupert Symington when I was visiting the Douro in 2005. It is probably still going, but I need to open it in the next two years. It’s on that list. Probably not in the six months of summer that we experience here in North Texas, though.
All this to say, the next two years will be interesting, from an academic point of view. I probably won’t finish much of the bottles I open — it has already taken me nearly a week (sometimes more) to empty a bottle of anything. The other night another couple came to dinner (they are moving away) who were both deeply embedded in the wine world. They also have a collection, albeit bigger than mine. Suffice to say, I had two wines open for our meal and between the four of us we barely drank a bottle’s worth of wine. Everyone still enjoys wine, but the emphasis these days is quality, not quantity. So it goes.
And that’s just a little peek into my world this week. Curating the wine collection, amassed over a 45-year span. And now the piper says, “drink up.” Wish me luck.
