Last Sunday, waiting to be seated, I had a glass of 1973 Parducci Petite Sirah. It was in great shape, lovely, smooth, and integrated, but with a bit of wood smoke that soon blew off and a slightly short finish. I drank these in the mid-70s; never thought they would last this long. Best plain old CA PS ever. Blind, I would have guessed no earlier than 2000, and rated it 89. Two more points for the experience, though. (Hmmm, I sound like Dumbledore fixing the House Cup for Gryffindor – probably because I spent the previous Friday with my granddaughter at HarryPotterLand.)
The next exciting moment came when the bartender asked what time was our reservation. “Nine.” “It’s 9:45, better find out what happened.” Turns out our reservation was “stolen.” There must have been someone else named Earl or Earle. Of course there was no problem, but future patrons might want to be more alert than we.
When it was time to choose the wine for dinner (Chateaubriand for two), I couldn’t find a half-bottle on the list that said “Drink me.” I asked the bartender if there were older halves of Burgundy or Northern Rhone. Soon appeared sommelier Rachel Healy, who offered a half of 1964 Morey-Saint-Denis from Remoissenet. Since my first great wine was a ’64 Dr. Peste from that house, I immediately said “sold.”
The fill was just below the saturated cork. A bit closed upon opening, it had beautiful color with very little fading at the edge. On a grid of Burgundy’s communes, with X = hardness/softness and Y = light/heavy, I’d place MSD at the origin, and this bottle was right there. Yes, it was just a village wine, but it was succulent, if a bit lean, and it developed nicely as the night went on. 91 points on its merits, and, again, two more for the reinforcement of what aged Burgundy can and should be.
Because the evening had stretched out, the wines were of such quality and my son-in-law had a few sips, I thought it would be OK to open another half, one with some merlot to go with the steak. Rachel uncorked a 1964 Brane-Cantenac, but she felt it was not up to her standard and dumped it immediately. Unfortunately, it was the last of those halves, so she opened a 1964 Leoville Poyferre. She felt it wasn’t quite right either, and I agreed, so she dumped that one also. (It was also the last half bottle.)
Third time’s a charm, however, a half of 1961 Haut-Cadet, a St. Emilion I did not know. It was ageless! Yes, a bit demure, with only a touch of 1961’s concentration, but still remarkably sweet, and faded not at all. 89/91. So, three small treasures from long ago, for less than $130.
Finally, a special thank you to Ms. Healy. She is expert, confident and charming. I was very impressed by her decisive rejection of the ‘64 Bordeaux, and wholly smitten by the fact that she knew how to pronounce my home town.