by Mike Supple
published: 04 Oct 2007
The wine I wanted to order from the list was the 1983 Chateau Margaux. While 1982 may be the landmark vintage that pops into mind, my interests lay elsewhere for dinner. I had recently been in Bordeaux again, and during a meeting with Paul Pontallier I was reminded of the stunning beauty of the 1983 Margaux. The weather treated the Cabernet Sauvignon well, and the fully ripe grapes produced a wine of monstrous depth, complexity and tannin that truly did not begin to shed its tannic youth until a few years ago. Now the true elegance of a well aged Margaux is beginning to come forward.
The restaurant is small and privately owned since the mid-1970s, and supports a wine list maintained by Frank, the quirky owner. The majority of the list pays homage to the current trends and popular bulk wineries: a solid core of Chardonnay, both heavily oaked and completely unoaked; a diminishing list of poorly constructed Merlots; a growing list of (poorly constructed) Pinot Noirs; and Zinfandel, a California staple. The hidden gems were towards the back of the list. These were all wines that Frank had purchased upon release and then squirreled away in his private collection, only to be forgotten. As he grew older his tastes turned towards the bolder, richer, fruitier New World style of winemaking, and his veritable bevy of aged Bordeaux, Burgundies, Barolos and more made their way to the wine list.
Contrary to the general trend, Frank decided that since he had purchased these wines for a song, it would only be right to pass them on to his customers in the same form. And this is where I come in to play. The low prices smeared on the pages as I drooled at things I could only hope to find in retail shops. My mind made up, I ordered the ‘83 Margaux, and asked our waiter if they had any glassware besides the clunky goblets on the table. He spun away to find something, and I was left to peruse the delicacies on the menu while daydreaming of a dark ruby glass exploding with rich plums and cassis.
The seconds became minutes, but I was not left alone with my thoughts for long. Frank, the star of the show, came banging over to the table in his wheelchair, deftly keeping every drop of Zinfandel in his glass. After taking a large swig and signaling to the hostess for a refill, he began to expound upon painstaking care with which he chose the ingredients going in to each of the dishes I was bound to enjoy that evening. He eventually rolled off to greet another table, and again I was left to my thoughts and beginning to worry about the well being of my absent waiter.
Some time later, the man in question reappeared carrying glasses that almost, but not quite, resembled something I would risk filling with expensive wine. As he sheepishly presented them, he said, “This is the only crystal in the restaurant…they were left here from a recent wedding.” Suddenly the strange etchings made sense as the words “Donna & Phil” came in to focus.
I never believed it until I went through a Riedel glass seminar, but the proper glass makes a world of difference to the wine. Riedel has spent generations researching how differences in shape affect the aromatics of wine and influence accurate placement of the wine onto the tongue. Not wanting to do the Margaux the disservice of anything less than full enjoyment I declined the offer and switched my order to a bottle of the 1995 Taittinger Comtes de Champagnes. Their champagne flutes were in much better condition than the other glassware, and I am of the firm belief that the proper occasion to drink Champagne is any one during which I am thirsty.
After a hearty meal of meats seasoned to match the power and fury of a ripe Zinfandel, I asked Frank to do me to favor of selling me the bottle of ‘83 Margaux, which he good-naturedly placed in a doggy bag and sent me on my way.
As I now sit and swirl the wine in my Riedel, it is everything I had hoped it would be. But it also makes me think of Frank and what other hidden treasures are lurking in the bowels of his restaurant. Next time I’m bringing my own stemware.
