1997: in January, Bill Clinton was sworn in for a second term; in August, Princess Diana was killed in a car crash; and a film about a shipwreck, Titanic, was the top-grossing movie. In the vineyards of the Old World, springtime came early, summer was hot, and the harvest was wet. The wine gurus and the voodoo sages swirled and tasted, ruminated and spat. Bah, they said, don't bother. Bah, said Parker. Bah, said Tanzer. Bah, said the Spectator. Don't bother.
Funny thing, though. The wine doesn't care about the gurus; it doesn't read the Spectator, doesn't subscribe to Parker. Turns out, ten years on, the 1997s are pretty damn good.
Arnie Millan, a wine conusltant with a fine cellar, pulled out a few bottles the other day for a 10-year retrospective tasting at Sorrentino Trattoria on Queen Anne. Two American cabs, a grand cru Burgundy, an Amarone, and half a dozen classified growths from Bordeaux. Wines this old, you don't just pop the cork; you decant carefully, then pour back into the original (cleaned & rinsed) bottle.
Were there disappointments? Sure. La Fleur Pétrus seemed a bit weak, especially compared to Château de Sales, another Pomerol wine with lesser credentials but (in this case, at least) far more impressive staying power. And most of the wines were magnificent. Château Lynch-Bages was at its peak. And the Allegrini Amarone was both subtle and complex, full of young fruit with a port-like finish that made it a terrific match for Sorrentino's tiramisù.
Icebergs be damned. All things come to those who wait, right?
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