The cork would not come out, although the corkscrew worm did…along with cork dust.
Into the decanter went a brown, acrid, bouquet-devoid semblance of waste water.
Fifteen minutes elapsed.
My ugly duckling blossomed into a ruby, bright, sweet, and elegant swan, tinged with cinnamon spice,
red cherry, and glycerin. As the evening progressed, this twenty-five-year-old lesser Margaux
became more complex, although slightly tart on the finish. The only bitter aspect was how the bottle
was meant to be an anniversary and Christmas gift for a recently deceased friend, classmate, and
This bottle expressed the inseparably alloyed joy and poignancy of wine, touching people with whom we have the privilege to share and those with whom we missed the never-again opportunity. Almost four years ago, I bought some 1927 Madeira, to serve at a family member’s 80th birthday dinner. We chose not to open the bottle after dinner, having already filled ourselves with 1990 Haut Brion and 1990 Pichon Baron…a misfortune we all should encounter. I have saved it since, and hope to open it at the next possible birthday party. If that is not destined, we shall still open it to commemorate a long, hard, but fruitful life.