Carpe diem: Drink, don't hoard, wine

I was rooting around my wine cellar the other day and pulled up a forgotten bottle of one of my favorite white wines, a Savennières from the Loire Valley in France. "O joy! Wine in view!" I thought to myself. Then I pulled the cork. The wine was nut-brown, smelled like old apple cider and tasted worse. Dead as a doornail.

The wine had been purchased years ago with a clear intention of drinking and enjoying it. I had done the research, located the wine, ordered four bottles, paid a decent price, tucked it away and tasted its siblings over the course of a decade. But the last bottle got away from me. Not a tragedy, certainly, but an opportunity missed.

In purely economic terms, I ended up paying a third more (per bottle consumed) than I should have, in order to amortize the lost fourth bottle. In terms of the wine itself, I waited too long, quite forgot about it and missed out on what would have been, a bit earlier, its graceful dénouement.

The lesson learned is that wine is a living thing. It is capable of wonderful evolutionary change in the bottle — a beautifully aged wine can give you great pleasure. But all living things must eventually die, and unfortunately, far too many good, even great wines die before they are consumed.

Recently, a warehouse fire in California destroyed something on the order of $100 million worth of wine, much of it old and irreplaceable. At about the same time as this unfortunate news was in the headlines, an advertisement for a large wine auction caught my eye. "Over 17,000 Bottles of Greatness — Our Largest Single Owner Cellar Yet" it read. The wines listed included legendary names from vintages dating back to the 19th century. Highly valuable, highly collectable. But doomed, I'm afraid, never to be enjoyed.

How many of the very greatest wines in the world meet a similar fate? There is no way to know, but I suspect it is an appallingly high number. A few weeks ago I toured a private storage facility where well-heeled Seattle collectors stash their new purchases. I saw cases — in some instances entire pallets! — of rare and expensive wines. Will these wines ever be opened, shared around a table with friends, brought out to anchor a special occasion, or simply to celebrate a particularly good day at the office? Or are they mostly just trophies, silent reminders of someone who had the money and the clout to corner the market on them? Investments, I suppose, waiting for some future auction.

My sincere belief is that great wines should be drunk, not hoarded as "investments." There are plenty of collectibles that have far more secure and lasting investment potential. Wine can be destroyed in many ways, predictable or unpredictable, but the sure certainly is that time will ultimately render it undrinkable.

So as we sail into the dark days of winter, with holiday entertaining on the horizon and the pleasures of rich red wines beckoning, it is a good time for each of us to do a quick inventory of what is in the cellar. What there has been tasted recently? Isn't it a good idea to get out a cherished bottle or two tonight? Tonight can be a special occasion, if you make it one.

Paul Gregutt: wine@seattletimes.com