In 1994 I was invited to the Annual Blessing of the Grapes at the Robert Mondavi Winery in Oakville. Robert and his sons Tim and Michael escorted their guests into the To Kalon Vineyard next to the winery, where we drank some of the previous vintage of Fumé Blanc, took pictures, and listened to an opera singer (whose name I cannot recall) perform an a cappella rendition of the Shaker hymn Simple Gifts. Then the priest recited a prayer over the first load of grapes harvested for the occasion. Afterward, we gathered for lunch at umbrella-shaded tables on the winery lawn. I sat next to the patriarch who turned to me, extended his hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Bob,” as if we’d never met. Despite having dined with him in Florence Italy (including a small dinner party at the Folonaris’ villa; sitting side-by-side at Michelin-starred Enoteca Pinchiorri; and attending a dinner marking the 600th anniversary of the Antinori family in the wine business), not to mention a dozen lunches in Napa and San Francisco, he could never seem to remember my name. It should be noted that he had no trouble recognizing my wife, whom he’d only met on two occasions — but then he was always partial to the ladies. Bob was not a wine snob, and being as it was a hot day, he took his Cabernet with an ice cube.

After lunch and a speech or two, the departing guests were given a bottle of the previous, 1993, vintage of the Fumé Blanc Reserve from that same To Kalon Vineyard. It’s worth repeating, for those who don’t know the story, that Mondavi coined the term Fumé Blanc in 1968 as an homage to Pouilly Fumé, the Loire Valley Sauvignon Blanc with a hint of smokiness from aging in toasted oak barrels. A few wineries (Dry Creek Vineyard and Ferrari Carano come to mind) still use the designation to distinguish their barrel-aged Sauvignon Blancs. As I was leaving I saw Mondavi and his sons in conversation and sidled over to ask them all to sign my bottle. My intention was to drag it out as a conversation starter in a year or two. Of course, dry white wines are not meant to be aged. The oldest DRY white wine I’d ever had was a Grand Cru Chablis which was about twenty years old and oxidized. As it happened, my Fumé Blanc was lost in my cellar for more than a decade, by which time I figured the wine was well past its prime and I had better things to drink. Nevertheless, I saved the bottle for the cachet of its signatures.

Fast forward a couple MORE decades and my 2,600-bottle wine cellar has been almost entirely depleted. No, folks, you can’t take it with you. Wine is for enjoying with friends, not for admiring in your packed cellar. So it was that my 1993 Fumé Blanc Reserve was the last white wine in my cellar. Even though it had lain unmoved in my 62-degree Fahrenheit cellar, after thirty years I didn’t expect it would be drinkable, but it might prove to be an interesting curiosity.

I was first struck by the condition of the bottle.  There was virtually no ullage. The waxed cork came out easily and in one piece. The wine was clear with just a hint of straw color. At first sniff, it showed decent aromatics and an odd but not unpleasant hint of saddle leather that morphed into honey with some aeration. On the palate, the honey was joined by dried apricots. Aging had given the wine more body than expected as if it were concentrated. So, taking a page from the Mondavi playbook I added an ice cube, which had the effect of freshening the fruit and bringing the body more in line with what you’d expect from a Sauvignon Blanc. Bob would be proud.

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Tasting old wine is a crapshoot. Sometimes they’re wonderful, other times they’re a disappointment. We’ve recently opened a string of winners.

1996 Alexander Valley Vineyards, Wetzel Family Estate, Cabernet Sauvignon: Still youthful at 26, this Meritage blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Malbec, and Petite Verdot showed off its superb balance, plummy fruit, and a hint of spice and dark chocolate. Smooth, elegant, and less than 14% alcohol.

2000 Robert Mondavi, Napa Valley, Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve: At 22-years old the Mondavi Reserve is at its peak. Balanced, with fruit like dark cherries, and dried herbs and cinnamon notes. The tannin is fully resolved, while the structure is still firm.

2002 Vine Cliff Winery, Private Stock, 16 Rows, Oakville, Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon: Dark purple, dense, with a core of blackberry jam, moderate tannin, long warm finish.

2001 Gianni Gagliardo Barolo: While I prefer Gagliardo’s Barbera, his Barolo displays the classic scent of red roses and the flavor of tart cherries. It’s already passed that awkward coarse stage where the wine transitions from brash and astringent to something more floral and nuanced. Just beginning to come into its own, it could easily last another decade. We followed this Barolo with two 2001 grappas made from Barolo, an elegant one from Gigi Rosso emphasizing the floral aspects, and a hot, powerful version from Fontanafredda.

But by far the best older wine I’ve had recently has to be the 1997 Jacob’s Creek Limited Release Shiraz Cabernet: With Shiraz from Barossa Valley, and Cabernet Sauvignon from Coonawarra, this Jacob’s Creek carries the distinctive roasted meat aroma of Shiraz, and the bright cherry, oregano/thyme flavors of Cabernet with the same level of intensity and vibrancy from the nose through the long finish. Perfectly balanced.