The Wine Knows

As I wrote about back in February, the greatest wine I'd ever tasted was a Cockburn 1963 Port. Recently, that may have been surpassed - by another old Port. Much, much older.

At the Northwest Wine Summit each year, everyone who participates is supposed to bring a couple of wines to share with others. For some of us regulars, it's a bit of a game of one-upmanship. It's not enough to bring a Leonetti; it needs to be an older Leonetti. If it's a rare wine, it might as well be a 1986 Madeleine Angevine from the Isle of Man (yeah, someone brought one of those to a gathering once - best wine I'd ever had from the Isle of Man).

This year, our friend Tom Reagan from Atlanta brought an ancient treasure, a bottle of 1896 Royal Oporto. The plan was to open it the second night after dinner, and everyone there would get a tiny taste. Unfortunately for some (and great for me), a number of folks shuffled off to bed early - leaving a little more for the rest of us.

The worrisome part with such a wine is getting out the cork. This particular wine had been bottled in the '30s, and Tom purchased it in the '70s, so that cork was good and old. Surprisingly, however, it came out in only a few pieces with very little difficulty.

We all cleaned out glasses, and Tom began to pour. This wine was amber in color, and we weren't sure how it had held up. Tom was concerned it could be vinegar by now and there'd be disappointment around the room. In fact, there was no need for despair. The first whiff indicated this was going to be a special evening, as aromas of caramel, golden raisins and dried apricots rose to greet us. The sweet flavors were not even close to tired. This wine could have lasted another 20 years at least!

Thanks to those morning people who headed to their rooms early, I even got a second pour, and I savored every last drop. How great was this wine? Two months later, I can still taste it, and the memory of those moments haunts me.

The next day, Tom offered me the bottle, which I had him sign. It's now proudly displayed in my wine room.

The lesson here: Start investing in Ports, be they traditional or domestic, and hide them away. (I know, if it isn't from Portugal, it isn't really Port; yeah, yeah.) Not all will age like these two fond memories, but I'm willing to risk the wait if I have the chance to taste these kinds of wines again.