NORTHWEST LIVING
By Rebecca Teagarden
A Contemporary Catacomb
A Contemporary Catacomb
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 BENJAMIN BENSCHNEIDER / THE SEATTLE TIMES The circular wine cellar is Andrew McGehee's 55-degree baby, giving him access to about 1,150 bottles. The collection has an emphasis on wines from France and Italy. baby, giving him access to about 1,150 bottles. The collection has an emphasis on wines from France and Italy. circular wine cellar is Andrew McGehee's 55-degree baby, giving him access to about 1,150 bottles. The collection has an emphasis on wines from France and Italy.
BENJAMIN BENSCHNEIDER / THE SEATTLE TIMES The Chechen rosewood floor carries the eye straight down the hallway to a small, built-in, stained cherry cabinet. The cabinet is most modern on the outside and old-fashioned on the inside because it's really the McGehees' laundry chute. The cherry basketweave lattice screen on the left closes off the exercise room.
BENJAMIN BENSCHNEIDER / THE SEATTLE TIMES One goal of the bathroom vanity was to be able to put a carafe in the sink and rinse it out, says SkB architect Kyle Gaffney. They couldn't find a sink deep enough, so contractor Gerry Tonner, then with Dow Construction, came up with the idea of using an All-Clad pasta pot with a hole drilled in it for the drain. |
IT'S SAFETY FIRST at the McGehee home on Queen Anne.
That's why they had to put in the wine cellar.
"What happened was . . ." Andrew McGehee says.
"We were having a dinner party," his wife, Tiffany McGehee, says.
"I ran downstairs real quick to get some wine," he says.
" . . . from a cubby in the basement," she says.
"And I hit my head on the ceiling on the way down so hard I knocked myself out cold," he says.
They both nod and try to hold back grins.
"It's a Scottish head, so it's OK," Andrew says, giving his bald head a rub.
But having his collection hidden away in basement crannies or across town in boxes at Seattle Wine Storage was not. The problem, besides the knot on Andrew's head, was that most of his good stuff wasn't even in the house. Not handy for long evenings with friends.
So the McGehees called on SkB Architects for help. SkB turned a typical all-gray-and-blocky cement basement into a spa/wine contemporary catacomb fit for a couple who lifts both weights and wines.
SkB put down a deep, inviting pre-engineered Chechen rosewood floor that sweeps visitors down the hall past the exercise room. It is a room that's easy and hard to miss all at the same time. It sits behind a beautiful basket-lattice cherry screen for transparency, lightness and privacy to keep the basement feeling as open as possible, especially with the low ceilings.
Wine collector Andrew McGehee trusts Dan McCarthy of McCarthy & Schiering when it comes to a recommendation because he finds they share a similar palate. That's the whole trick, he says:
"He matches up to me very well. You have to find someone who matches your palate. Somebody will recommend something, you buy it, and it blows off the back of your head!"
Most collectors cannot buy just one bottle. Too painful. But McGehee is starting to pare his purchases. "My limit is a case of something, but I'm cutting back to half a case," he says. "You cannot drink all they make!"
He gets both the Robert Parker and Stephen Tanzer newsletters, but the palate of the latter suits him better.
"That SOB can drink motor oil and ask, "Is there a hint of pepper in that?" he says of the venerable Parker of the Wine Advocate. "That guy's got a tongue made of leather!"
But the bottle McGehee holds most dear, a Bordeaux he and his wife are saving for that very special occasion, is the only one in their collection that Parker rates a perfect 100, a 1982 Léoville Las Cases.
Straight ahead at the end of the hall is a sleek, modern table under a painting by a family friend. The sleek, modern table, however, is really the old laundry shoot disguised as sleek, modern table. A drawer pulls out to reveal dirty laundry. Around the corner a steam room (good for sweating out evenings of overimbibing) and bathroom, with walls of a tumbled limestone and floors of quartzite slate, give age-old permanence to that grotto feeling.
But the best is saved for last — the cellar. It allows the McGehees instant access to about 1,150 bottles, but "she's not full right now," Andrew says. A Southern gentleman from Memphis, Andrew is prone to assigning gender to inanimate objects, and this room, his room, is a "she," like a ship. The cargo is international, with an emphasis on wines from France and Italy. "She's steady as a rock," he says of the little circular cavern that hovers at 55 degrees.
Don't get these people wrong. Just because they have a nice cellar doesn't mean they belong to fancy wine clubs or hold sniffy tastings. Andrew, 41, came to Seattle in 1991, when the Washington '89s were on the shelf and, as he says, "there was no turning back."
Their bottles are to be opened and enjoyed over dinner, on the deck, with friends, with each other. Skilled cooks, the McGehees had a recent Saturday dinner party with a 1990 Bordeaux theme.
"We'll go through multiple bottles. Is that like having tastings?" Andrew laughs. He prefers strictly reds, but Tiffany is persuading him to try some whites, particularly French Burgundy.
And when the McGehees aren't caught up with their wine collection (Andrew's been watching for the late '90s and 2000 Italians), they're fly-fishing here and there among the world's waters — from Russia to Argentina. Or Andrew's delving into history, a topic he loves: "Did you know that more Tennesseans died at the Alamo than Texans?" he says, grinning at Tiffany, a Dallas native.
Wine collecting is a quest for Andrew McGehee, mostly a pleasant one. But there is one conundrum, whose resolution he must have. One he must determine for himself and by himself.
"It's my lifelong struggle to see if the French or Italians make a better bottle."
Work continues.
Rebecca Teagarden is assistant editor of Pacific Northwest magazine. Benjamin Benschneider is a magazine staff photographer.
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