The Adnostic

When my grandfather died, his collection of fine wines from the cellar (he had an actual cellar, a rarity in LA) was divided among the family. One of my Dad's cousins decided to share this rare vintage with the family on Thanksgiving.

A 1923 Bordeaux! Are you serious? How often does a girl get the opportunity to taste an eighty-year-old wine? Hardly ever and in many cases, never. This was very exciting for me and had anticipated the bottle’s opening the entire day.

Then we actually opened it.

The cork had rotted inside the bottle. Not a good sign. Dad managed to salvage most of the cork and strained the rest of the wine into a decanter, but during the pouring I noticed something disturbing: instead of a deep, rich purplish red the color had a putrid brown tint. Not unlike dried blood. Another bad sign.

My uncle tried the wine first and deemed it "drinkable." I tried a little and found it wretchedly bitter. Other members of the family continued to drink it. I'm not entirely sure why, but I'm sure they had their reasons. They just kept insisting that it wasn’t terrible.

It just goes too show you - some wines are like refined ladies and just get better with age; others are like old hookers. Just because they are experienced doesn't make them good.