Over the last few months, I have had some cellar-related epiphanies.
I spent most of my adult life buying wine, more or less constantly, looking for good wines at good prices that I can lay down for the future. As a result, over time my cellar became a hopelessly packed jumble of bottles and boxes. And while I loved looking at the fruits of that particular aspect of the passion, it often meant that I had an ocean of wine that was not ready to drink.
Now that I am superannuated, most of that wine is ready to drink. It’s fantastic! Whereas I used to pull bottle after bottle, rejecting each as not ready (or “too good for a Thursday night”), now pretty much everything I put my hand to is entering or right in its wheelhouse. And (for the most part) I no longer think about the day of the week or the occasion; it is always the right night to open a “good” bottle.
Because of all the energy and money spent earlier on, I am pretty sure I have enough wine to last as long as I will. I used to joke about looking forward to opening the last bottle on the day I die. That math won’t be close and my son will have to figure out what to do with what’s left over, but it turns out without doing any sophisticated modeling I bought pretty much exactly what I need to see me through.
For this reason, I have stopped buying pretty much everything but champagne.
Those empty slots are speaking to me. For many decades, the idea of having empty slots would have been unthinkable. Now they are popping up pretty much all over the place. There are still boxes on the floor waiting for a space on the walls, but I can actually walk from one end of the room to the other without stepping over things or sliding things out of the way.
The slots are expanding as my days melt away. Now, I am not all that old and based on family histories, I figure I likely have decades, plural, to go. But without getting all maudlin about it, those empty slots are accumulating and time is not. They pretty eloquently speak to me about the fact that the road behind is much, much longer than the road ahead.
That’s approximately where I am, except that I have not stopped buying wine. My kids and employees are going to have to take up more slack.
Covid suppressed the number of shared dinners to the extent of easily a hundred bottles that should have been consumed and are still in the cellar. I’ve got a lot of bottles that I am curious to try that never come up as the top choice for a meal with my wife. I used to be able to count on several meals a week that I could pull out one top choice and one “curious about” bottle. Even with Covid fading, everyone seems to be busier, or just out of town.
I could resort to opening two bottles and pouring out a lot of wine, but I have been too ingrained with the ethic of not wasting, and can’t come to terms with the possibility that the wine will be wasted anyway if it gets too old. Selling, I suppose, is an option, however, the valuable bottles are the ones I want to drink, and the curiosity bottles are of wide appeal.
Turned 66 this year. I still fill the empty slots, lose floor space to filled boxes, and otherwise take pleasure in new (to me) wine discoveries.
I’ve got plenty of other things in my life , however, to remind me of the fact that I’m likely to leave these sometimes difficult “when to drink this bottle” decisions to my adult daughter . . . .
A perfect summation counselor, and right there with you although I will have to buy more Bedrock as I can’t imagine not having one of those to grab when I want one.
, however, to remind me of the fact that I’m likely to leave these sometimes difficult “when to drink this bottle” decisions to my adult daughter . . . . 
!