The last time I drank a bottle of 2007 CRB Gamay was last week after driving up and down Woodward in the snow looking for the MOCAD where the Chicago group Sea and Cake were to be playing.
I was supposed to meet a friend in the parking lot for slugs from a bottle of Quinta do Infantado Vintage Character Reserve (or whatever it's called now.) By that time I had already drunk a bottle or two of table wine with Anne, along with a sip of Russian chokeberry vodka. First it was the port that drew me out of my apartment, then the promise of companionship. I still don't know if the band was any good, because I couldn't find the place! I've driven by it on numerous occasions. The snow makes familiar places stranger.
But now I had a head of steam aiming for precisely fruit-tannic red wine, so I stopped at Slows BBQ for a bottle of Gamay. I sat at the bar. It was late. I was tired. The lights were bright and the crowd was noisy. I could find no one to hear a boozy rant about the art scene in Detroit or enzymes in wine. Damn; I needed a thinly populated dive bar that served Clos Roche Blanche Gamay! I drank a glass of it and realized I was too tired and full to finish it. Apparently I wandered out with the closed bottle because the next day it was sitting on the dining room table.
That evening I drank it and it was very, very delicious.