A Case of Fine Wine

When my summer tenants in Southampton asked if they could stay two weeks past Labor Day because their kitchen renovation wasn’t finished yet, I said, “Sure.”

“What would you would charge?” the wife asked on the phone. I knew her husband worked for a wine distributor, so I said, “How about a case of wine? White, red, whatever, maybe a bottle of riesling for my husband.” That seemed fair to me.

She agreed and a week later two assorted cases of very good wine appeared on my front porch. But there were also three bottles of ’82 Bordeaux — consisting of an ’82 Chateau Margaux, an ’82 Mouton Rothschild, and an ’82 Chateau Latour. These wines are among the five first growths of Bordeaux, the rock stars of wine. With research on wine sites, I found them with estimates starting at $2,000 a bottle.

I tried to sell them online and placed them with a local liquor store, but after two years, no buyers materialized, so I decided to drink them instead. The first bottle, the Chateau Latour, I took to my daughter’s in-laws for a roast chicken supper for just the four of us. We always take a bottle of wine when we go to each other’s houses for dinner; sometimes we even take the same $20 bottle the other couple had given to us.

I very casually handed the ’82 Bordeaux to Ron, saying, “Here’s something to drink with dinner.” He said thanks, but then, when he looked more carefully at the label, his eyes widened and he said, “Terrific.”

He knows a lot about wine. I, on the other hand, will drink any wine, any color, and any vintage. My preference tends toward dry whites and reds, but I love a dry rosé from Provence or Wolffer rosé in the summer. The three of us (my husband doesn’t drink red) enjoyed the chicken enhanced by the smooth, elegant Bordeaux, with complex fruit, mineral, and tobacco flavors.

The second bottle, an ’82 Margaux, we took into the city for a special Christmas Eve dinner. My daughter was living in China and my son had plans, so we were alone for Christmas. Feeling sorry for ourselves, we were determined to have fun.

We stayed overnight at our friends’ lovely apartment on Sutton Place the first night and looked at the Christmas windows at Barney’s, Bergdorf’s, and Tiffany, trying to get into the Christmas spirit. We booked a concert to see one of the Marsalis brothers and have a late-night supper at Jazz at Lincoln Center.

The following night, Christmas Eve, Laird, our hostess, made osso buco for the four of us. I proudly opened the ’82 Margaux — “Ta-dah!” with theatricality — glad to provide a bottle worthy of her dinner.

But it was vinegar. Awful! Thank goodness our friends had bought other wine. I was disappointed but resigned and realized that wine can go bad like business relationships, love affairs, and leftovers kept too long hidden in the fridge.

Wine is a living, breathing commodity. It’s also food. It gives us sustenance. It made me consider impermanence and how we shouldn’t save things for sometime in the future, but enjoy them today.

The third and last bottle of ’82 Bordeaux, the Mouton Rothschild, was to be a surprise at a dinner I was hosting for new friends we had met at a Paumanok wine-tasting dinner at the North Fork Table. It was only fitting that I break out the last of the big boys.

The Wine Cellar says of the ’82 Bordeaux wine: “The vintage conditions that created the 1982 Bordeaux were close to perfect from start to finish. Flowering took place in warm, sunny, and dry conditions. July was hot and dry. August cooled down a bit, but was followed by an explosion of 21 days of heat. The blast of inferno temperatures worked like magic. The 1982 Bordeaux wine was packed with layers of dense, rich, ripe fresh fruit, opulent, sensuous textures that had not been seen for decades.”

And we got to drink it.

John, a wine merchant, cradled the bottle like a newborn baby, carefully removing the cork, which came out clean. Dave said maybe we should decant it, but John said it might “go” more quickly if we did.

John brought an elegant Bordeaux of a recent vintage as backup. And Dave contributed a lovely California cabernet sauvignon from Napa. Anticipation mounted as I told them the history of the other two bottles. Great expectations floated in the air. Would the wine still be good after 31 years? John poured a small amount in each glass, careful not to spill a drop of the ruby nectar; even my non-red-drinking husband wanted a taste of this historic moment.

We sipped. “It’s like velvet,” John said. We all agreed, and as we toasted our good fortune we knew we wouldn’t be savoring such a famous, ambrosial wine again soon. Being united in wine and grapes and good food was intoxicating.

I raise my glass to my tenants, who bartered such a gift of wine in exchange for extending their lease. Cheers.

Joanne Pateman is a regular “Guestwords” contributor.