Age Your Reds!
In 2022. a bit exasperated with the abrupt impact of taut young reds I'd recently sampled—packed with promise but in need of years to unleash it—I headed to my wine cellar and surveyed the shelves. An older Merlot, perhaps, something smooth and round for tonight's dinner. Shafer 1998? Too big for just me this evening. Oakencroft '95? No, I want to surprise some wine-loving friends with that—some months ago this Virginia Merlot was terrific. I pulled another dusty bottle from its cubicle, Jaeger Merlot Ingleside 1986. Hmmmm…good grief, it's over thirty-five years old! Probably gone; that's old for a Merlot, except maybe Château Pétrus, the Bordeaux red that is ninety-five to one hundred percent merlot (the 1986 currently goes for over $3,700 a bottle!*).
Well, I mused, the Jaeger is probably dried out or oxidized; better try it, it certainly won't get any better. Besides, I thought as I looked at the slightly tattered label, there is some sentiment attached. The wine was a gift from Bill and Lila Jaeger, co-founders of Rutherford Hill in Napa Valley, who made limited quantities of Merlot from the vineyard adjacent to their house on Ingleside Lane in Rutherford. The label brought back memories of wonderful dinners we shared back in the eighties. Lila was a great cook; Bill, the most genial of hosts. There were always interesting wines on the table, and lively friends around it. The company that evening may well have included Chuck and Ann Carpy of Freemark Abbey (the Jaegers were partners there as well), Belle and Barney Rhodes, who had a formidable cellar of their own a mile or so up the road. There were likely ten or twelve of us gathered around the oval table on these memorable evenings.
Usually I like to give old wines a full day or so standing up, to let the sediments slide to the bottom of the bottle. It was mid-day when I brought the Jaeger Merlot in from the cold, but it proved time enough for it to chambré. Many an old cork will crumble, so just before dinner I used the Ah-So corkscrew to withdraw it, gently working the metal prongs downward on either side. The cork came out whole and amazingly sound, a moist dark-red stain near the end; it smelled of wine, a promising sign. I decanted over a flashlight, so the beam of light could illuminate the liquid as it flowed, till the dark arrow of sediment appeared very near the end of the pour. A muddy film clung to one side of the bottle, but the wine in the decanter was a vibrant dark garnet.
I gave it a swirl, poured out a glass and sniffed. The scent of black fruits billowed forth—plum, dark ripe berries, a hint of licorice. The taste was smooth but lively, flush with black fruit flavors, warm and rich in texture. As I savored the wine with braised short ribs, I marveled at its vibrancy after all these years, not the least faded or tired but balanced, complex, long in finish.
Relishing the layers of flavor that each sip revealed, I thought how only time can make this happen, and how much winelovers miss in sheer enjoyment by drinking good reds too young. Such wines come into the bottle raw and unfinished, their fat baby fruit forward—that's what we taste at the first sip. But the other constituents are there, too: tannin and other acids, oak accents, alcohol, all somewhat disparate, vying with one another. By the third sip or so, one in particular asserts itself in young reds: tannin, the puckery astringency that gives the wine at this stage a hard edge. With time, seven years, ten, perhaps twenty or more for wines of great depth and structure, all the elements meld and soften, blend and harmonize into something much more than the bold power of youth; a transformation of sorts, and much more compelling, much more rewarding to drink. It's a sin against nature to drink a wine too soon, before it has time to fulfill its promise. Like Cain killing Abel in the flower of his youth.
Wines to lay away needn’t be the most expensive. Sure, it’s a no-brainer that classed Bordeaux, $175 Cabernets, northern Rhônes, as well as Barolos, Brunellos and SuperTuscans should always get at minimum a decade, preferably two or more of aging to begin to show their potential (most, alas, don’t). But well-made reds for much less—say, $20 to $30 a bottle—can also shine, given the time.
I drank half the wine that night, and funneled the rest into a clean half bottle, filled to the rim so no more air would get in, then sealed it with a screwcap. The next night, to my surprise (though I don't know why), it was even better. Still flush with fruit but smoother, going down like silk.
The leftover short ribs were better, too.
Merlots to consider for aging, 7-10 years at least (longer if you can keep your mitts off, though maybe not quite 35 years):
Decoy 2021 Merlot Limited Alexander Valley
Dry Creek Vyd Merlot 2020 Dry Creek Valley
Goldschmidt Chelsea Merlot 2020 Alexander Valley
Santa Ema Reserve Merlot 2021 Chile $15 (a true bargain)