LIVING WITH WINE
In those early days with wine, I felt like a fraud, but like a great book, wine belongs to any person who appreciates it
BY H. LEE BARNES

In earlier years, my buddies and I would toss around cavalier expressions, such as “A girl’s only a girl, but a bottle of Red Mountain’s a real high.” Now, I understand a girl becomes a woman and something quite complex, but a bottle of Red Mountain is forever a hangover. En route to that knowledge, I also discovered the other kind of wine. 

When I lived in Reno, every five or six weeks, I’d drive to the wine country. There my infatuation began. Upon seeing a vine gravid with deep purple fruit or feeling the weight of a grape bunch in his hand, anyone has to be moved by the experience. True, I was spellbound by the countryside, the symmetrical rows of vineyards, and shifting colors of the seasons, but the wine was what seduced me. I visited mostly small wineries, talking to those who grew grapes and bottled wine. Here they were, small producers, living season to season, subject to the whimsy of drought, cold and heat, as well as mold, vine disease and insects, etc. — but they projected an almost religious trust in the soil, the climate and the grape. Though they husband their secrets, wine people, especially boutique vintners, are passionate about the process and the product, and talk freely about their craft. 

As with many wine drinkers, I began tentatively with whites — Chablis and spicy Rhines, then advanced gradually to reds. In those early days with wine, I felt like a fraud. I come from a working-class family. My stepfather, a grand penny-pincher, occasionally bought a bottle white or rose for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, but that had been the extent of my exposure to wine. I grew up thinking wine was for those who wore starched-white clothing, spoke with New England accents, and played croquette on finely manicured lawns. What I learned, after a few hundred bottles, is that wine, like a good book, belongs to any person who appreciates it. Some like mysteries, some science fiction, and some mid-list literature. The same can be said for wine drinkers. In the future, should this feature survive, I hope to recommend in each column two or three wines to match a range of budgets and tastes, and perhaps suggest a meal to complement the grape or vice versa. 

My first selection is the Grand Vin du Chateau Bernadotte 2003 Haut-Medoc, a classic Bordeaux from France’s finest growing region for the Cabernet grape. It is rated a 90 by Wine Spectator and costs $25. Let it breathe for an hour before serving it. The one I uncorked was opened too early and probably hadn’t developed its full character. Storing it for four or five years will certainly enhance the experience. It has an immediate front taste, triggered by peppery undertones, but its back taste is dry and subtle. If one is partial to robust wine with strong hints of berry or plum, the Bernadotte may be a bit disappointing. It’s a wine that emphasizes the grape. What lingers is the fine grape taste with a hint of earth and oak. 

I served it with a pasta sauce that contained sun-dried tomatoes, pork medallions, Italian sausage, mushrooms and red onion. The wine bloomed with the meal and suited the hearty pasta dish. It would go even better with steak served rare to medium rare with a lightly toasted bleu cheese topping. 

Finally, if you can find a bottle of Wattle Creek 1999 Shiraz, snatch it. It’s rare and pricey at $20-$40, but a delightful full-bodied wine that goes well with a heavy meal or a light conversation.