Very Old Cabs

My Cabernet group (CLONYC-Cabernet Lovers of NYC) had dinner last night at Zoe in SoHo. The theme of 1970s Cabs came together when Greg Dal Piaz and Steve Eisenhauer hatched the idea of opening some pristine mags of 1970s Cabernet that Greg had secured. They enlisted planner extraordinaire, Mike Pobega, to secure arrange the particulars.  When you are opening wines this old, there are always going to be hits and misses, but the highs were extremely high here, with the two Mayacamas showing magnificently, and the misses were nothing if not educational.

First up were a vertical of Martinis that Greg donated to the group. Greg brought these museum pieces that he had acquired off the sweat of his brow and the change in his pocket. With crumbly corks and just decent fills, it appeared we were in store for a real crap shoot. That's pretty much what we got to with a pretty decent range of quality. The general consensus was in favor of the '76, although both Greg and Greg T. preferred the '75. I didn't get that at all, but different strokes, especially when it comes to older wines.

• 1974 Louis M. Martini Special Selection - Sadly, this tasted a bit past its prime. It started out a bit reductive and rubbery, but that cleared leaving an interesting savory nose of cassis and dried leaves. It seemed slightly madierized on the palate, with the one distinctive characteristic being a persistently long finish of amaretto. Blind, I would have said this was an extremely old Nebbiolo, as it didn't have much Cabernet character left. The ripe rabbit that has been passed by the tortoises of the less famous vintages.
• 1975 Louis M. Martini Special Selection - I know Greg liked this one, but I found it rather disappointing. I never got passed the grassiness and rubber ball smell and the palate was a touch sour with really tired fruit. If there was more fruit, perhaps the dill wouldn't have bothered me as much as it did. Ultimately, whatever balance this wine once had has been lost to the ether.
• 1976 Louis M. Martini Special Selection - Here is a wine I can get behind, although it was more pleasant than earth-shattering (which is fine). The funky, reductiveness that it had at first receded and gave way to dusty blackcurrants and earthy mushrooms. It had a gentle body and decent palate presence, although it lacked a certain amount of intensity that would elevate it to oustanding. As it is, it was very good, but I'd certainly drink these up if you have any.

Next up was 4.5 liters of outstanding Cabernet Sauvignon in the form of the magnums that were the original subject of this dinner.  These wines were all in absolutely pristine condition, having been culled from a cellar by Greg when he worked at Astor.  The wines never saw shelf time in a store and were kept in a temperature and humidity controlled environment. The performance of these wines really speak to the storage element to the tasting of wine, with the Martinis as a counterpoint. The corks were fantastic, the fills unbelievable and the wines were...

• 1973 Mayacamas Vineyards - What a wine, what a wine. Dark and lovely, it was magic from the second it was in the glass. The nose was a gentle dusty cassis intermingled with dill (I'd expect this saw a fair bit of American oak in its day). It continued to evolve in the glass and gained complexity with cigar ash and earth. It had a certain tranquility in the mouth, not that it lacked vivacity, but in a way that showed great self-assurance and restraint. It was an effortless wine in the mouth, with smoky dark fruit that was reminiscent of mature Graves, but with a sweetness to the fruit that was quite California. Here was a wine truly in balance with each element clean and precise. A truly classic Claret and a revelation.
  
• 1975 Mayacamas Vineyards - This wine started slowly and built to an amazing crescendo. Unmistakably California Cabernet, it displayed brawny and brambly mountain fruit with a youthful vibrancy that belied its age. It evolved beautifully in the glass, picking up charcoal, mint and earth, without fading one iota. The dark profile of the fruit carries through to the palate where it showed great breadth and power. There is still a fair amount of tannin to resolve, but it surrounds and elevates the sweet California fruit rather than obscuring it. Impeccable balance and precision carry through to a long and tasty finish. A remarkable wine that should continue to evolve.
  
• 1977 Heitz Cellars Bella Oaks - I thought this was going to continue the streak of great mature CA Cabs, but after a brief promise it faded. The nose initially showed dark plum mixed with cocoa powder and leather, but dipped a bit picking up some soy notes and generally becoming more reticent on the fruit side. It didn't have much intensity or weight in the mouth, although it was not at all unpleasant. It just seemed to struggle a bit to keep up with the 2 wines next to it. Still, it was clearly well crafted, even if a bit tired.
  

Subjectivity vs. Objectivity in Analyzing Wines

Let's discuss whether one can definitively say that one wine is better than another. There will always be an element of the subjective in analyzing wine because people have different palates and preferences. So, does that mean there are no objective truths when it comes to wine? Are all things are necessarily subjective? Not really. Objective "truths" can be measured by applying agreed upon standards. In things that are not automatically quantifiable or easily measured, like beauty, we use a standard of fixed criteria to determine what is objectively "true." Why the quotes around truth? Essentially, we are making an approximation of the truth, which we can better judge with more knowledge, in the same manner as the prisoners in Plato's Allegory on the Cave. Now, certainly, these criteria may vary with societal norms. For example, a Rubens model would not necessarily be regarded as the height of beauty today. Notwithstanding that "objective" standards may change with the times, we apply the applicable normative standards to try to a mental checklist by which we can compare two things. Make no mistake, those with greater experience have a superior sense of what is comparatively "better" because they can consider more factors and, accordingly, describe to others why something has more value. On the other hand, if everything is subjective, then the value of everything is minimized. Red Skelton's clowns cannot be considered better than Picasso's ladies simply because someone likes them better without diminishing the value of all art. We are elevated by beauty and diminished by the regression to the mean.

Isn't that why we have critics for things like wine? They are presumptively the most experienced and, therefore, they can best judge one wine against another (in Plato's Allegory, they would be closest to the sun). Variation in judgments may exist because of externalities and general preferences. It becomes, then, our responsibility in relying on these critics is to try to calibrate our palates to theirs, mostly to narrow the inherent elements subjective preference. Another way to blunt the manifestation of the subjective, would be to have a panel in lieu of a single critic. When the panel is a number of experts, such as the Grand Jury European, the result may be compelling. When the panel is a bunch of amateurs, especially in the context of a blind tasting, the results are often absurd.

A Counter-intuitive Thought on Multiple Tastings

I've already discussed some thoughts about how drinking wine is both an act of creation and destruction.  This tidbit on Jim Laube's blog over at Wine Spectator got me thinking about whether you lose something from multiple tastings of a wine, namely the creation from a blank canvas as opposed to retouching an existing work.  Laube relates:

With wines, one reason people diverge in their opinions is that we have different perspectives. I’ve tasted most of these many times and have many different points of reference. For some of our editors, with a wine such as the ’68 Souverain, it’s perhaps a once in a lifetime experience.

I've thought about this topic quite a bit, especially as I've moved up the learning curve of the wine journey. The wine writers that I admire most have a gift for putting a wine into context, such that, even without the sensual experience of the wine, the reader can imagine what it is like. Those points of reference can be external indicia of the real (wet stones after a rain) or the theoretical (Satan's urine after eating asparagus). They can also be internal, such as with a vertical tasting or repeat tastings of the same wine. It is this last point that Laube is getting here and it is one that I often overlook. It is amazing how the first time we taste a wine we record every experience in minute detail, the second time we double check our impressions and note evolution and thereafter really shorthand as to whether the wine is consistent with past tastings. Said another way, we lose the wonderment of the initial impression and are left comparing it not with other external factors, but only with how the wine is supposed to taste. That is not to say one can't maintain the discipline of writing detailed notes on the wine, but the perspective is quite different. Laube's point then is that that change in perspective will immutably change our opinion of the wine. We will judge it differently for having tasted it.

Analyzing Napa Cabernet

I started a discussion over on the Parker Board yesterday, which I figured I'd link to here. My point is that people are quick to judge California wines in their youth in a way that we are trained not to do with Bordeaux. We had a '98 La Mission Haut Brion at the Pratt's lunch and people judged it for what it would become. Much younger California Cabs were judged for what they are now. I'm not sure this is fair to the wines. Yes, they are monolithic and rambunctious, but is that any different from many young Bordeaux, even traditionally styled ones. What was the gorgeous and massive 1986 Margaux like at release? I would guess pretty damned big and I'm sure someone can tell me for certain. Bordeaux is Bordeaux and Napa is Napa in a whole lot of different ways and I love that dichotomy. Still, to the extent that we try to look at wine objectively in terms of our intellectual analysis, should we not be consistent?

There's some interesting replies over there.  Check it out.

Wine Word of the Day: Backward

The term "backward" describes a wine that is out of balance in that the structural elements, primarily the tannins, obscure the central element of the wine, the nuance of the fruit. Generally, the term is used for a wine that has not yet reached its drinking window and requires some cellaring, such as a young Bordeaux. These wines are often described as "closed."

An analogy...think of the fruit as the picture and the structure as the frame. Now turn it around. You can't see the picture, but you can still see the frame.

The Big Game

It was a light drizzle, so I eschewed my daily walk from the office to the subway in favor of the #22 bus to Chambers St. I was seated across from a man whose black and yellow Pittsburgh Steelers jacket was handsomely accessorized by his black and yellow Steelers backpack. Both were on prominent display. Onto the bus climbs one of his co-workers and they begin (loudly) discussing a variety of topics, including the Super Bowl. She asked him for whom he was rooting and he replies that, well, his team isn't in it, but he's pulling for the Giants. So, she asks the obvious question, "Oh, who is your team?" The jaw drops.

Gooooooooooooo, Giants!