When we first met, I had a collection of vintage burgundies, and she a collection of California Cabernets.  In those first months we savored Montrachet and Echezeaux from my meager stash.  We swilled, sniffed, and basked in the tannic backward heaven of a 1981 Dunn Howell Mountain Cabernet.  Dessert wines flowed like honey from the bees, and there was one Sauterne that reached our lips with a sweetness that I cannot explain or describe it as other than pure rapture.  There were Amarones, Barolos, Zinfandels, and vintage Bordeaux; wines that would leave our teeth a bit stained with a deep purple.

Simply, we were winos at heart.  Those with a less hedonistic, and more proper mindset may call themselves oenophiles.  Despite our rapturous beginnings, the love affair of wine was still on a mindful budget.  Bottles were often found at close out prices, end of bin sales, and the occasional find at a local winery.  And, every bottle opened was for an occasion.  Of course they were, we were falling in love and each day was a reason to celebrate.

Our collective cellars, which really were not cellars at all, but boxes stored in various areas of our houses, were dwindling.  However, our proximity to Napa and Sonoma allowed for brief jaunts to the wineries we loved.  And, we would return after a day of tasting and purchasing to have lovely dinner accompanied by a fabulous Nalle Zinfandel, a Pine Ridge Cabernet, followed by a cordial (or two) of Heitz Angelica.

That was 13 years ago, and while we still have many reasons to celebrate, our hedonistic Bacchanalian ways have made way for responsibility.  We were married in summer of 1993.  And, much of our modest budget dedicated to wine, was dedicated to our first home.  Still, we managed to fill our cellar—now in a closet in the guest bedroom filled with wine boxes—with some delightful wines which we would quickly consume when an appropriate dinner, event, or occasion arose.  We are not collectors. We are definitely consumers.

As the 1993 vintages began to be released, I started to purchase special bottles that would age gracefully, and that we would open on anniversaries.  On our 5^th, there was a bottle of 1993 Fisher Wedding Vineyard Cabernet, our 6^th 1993 Dunn, our 7^th 1993 Chateau Montelena.  We planned to have a big celebration for our 10^th, and a bottle of 1993 Clos Pegase Hommage was a substantial purchase—substantial as it is a 3-litre bottle.  The large gathering didn't come to be, and the two of us instead shared a different wine, still fabulous, still from our favorite vintage.

Not every wine we have tried to cellar has lasted as long as we have, but there will be a few that will stand the test of time, and we will save those for the next 7^th of August, and the next.  The three-litre bottle, well…that will age a bit longer still, but opening it with just the two of us may be a problem.  Not a problem I mind having, but still a problem nonetheless.

Buying wines to ring in a special occasion, special anniversary, or special event can be problematic however.  What happens when the wine becomes greater than the occasion itself?  A 1989 Petrus comes to mind.  Our friends have been carrying around a bottle of the legendary Bordeaux for years.  And, they want to open it, but have yet to find the right reason.  It is about that time when you have to steal a line from the new movie Sideways; Miles (played by Paul Giamatti) explains that he has been hoarding a '61 Cheval Blanc for a special occasion, Virginia Madsen's character Maya, says to Miles, "I think the day you open a '61 Cheval Blanc, that's the special occasion."  

That special bottle you are holding on to.  It is really the same thing, if the occasion doesn't seem to warrant opening the bottle.  Uncork the occasion.  Grab a glass or two, a favorite corkscrew, and whomever you wish to share this fabulous bottle with, and create an event.

Wine has played an integral role in our lives; a love affair that has lasted for 13 years now.  From honeymooning in Bordeaux, to spending anniversaries and birthdays in the wine country of California, we ring in each occasion with a special vintage, special bottle, or special wine. 

The vintage burgundies are no longer in the cellar, neither are the great cabernets.  The Sauterne was a single experience that to this day makes me smile.  The vintage ports were consumed with abandon, and so many wines have danced on our palates, left a lingering nuance, and then sashayed away.

In the years to come, the 1993's will be aging past their prime, and we will have to drink them all.  A tough job, but I am sure we will be up to the task.  When that time comes, we may have to look towards another vintage with which to celebrate.  Until then however, there is a bottle of 1993 Chateau Mouton Rothschild just waiting for August 7^th.

By J. A. L'Africain © ~ Originally Published in The Hook, 2006

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