Tonight, to celebrate our 20th anniversary, Jean decided to open one of the very few bottles in our cellar to predate our marriage: the '83 Ch. Margaux that I got her as a gift upon her Ph D defense (purchased at Garnet BTW -- any Disorderlies working there then?) in '88. The cork was reasonably intact, if saturated (this wine had seen various less-than-ideal storage conditions during its two transcontinental moves with us) and the wine a gorgeous dark color, but of course the damn wine was corked!. Not horribly corked, but enough that I was robbed of all the aromatics, leaving a wine beneath the mustiness that could have passed for a CalCab of middling years. Jean, who's a little less sensitive than this poor TCA sensitive, enjoyed the wine greatly, getting all sorts of tertiary elements that were absent for me. No chance of returning the bottle, of course, but the indignity of an irreplaceable bottle ruined by moldy tree bark is too much for words. Bring on the screwcaps, crown caps or ground glass stoppers! It can't happen soon enough for me.
Burned again,
Mark Lipton
Burned again,
Mark Lipton