OK, mini-vert: There are a few California cabernets that over the years have been sufficiently accessible, very reasonably priced and still special enough that I made a point of buying a case or half-case every year since the early '90s. In the last few years, I've been forced to drop most of them, usually because the price is no longer quite so "reasonable" (Montelena, Viader, Silver Oak) or because they'll no longer ship to Pennsylvania and so I've been knocked off the mailing list (Togni).

Anderson's Conn Valley Vineyard is the last holdout, probably because the reviews have been little tepid over the past few years, although I'm not sure why. Todd Anderson's wines, at least to me, often aren't so attractive young, which seems to be the sine qua non of "quality" these days (i.e., will a restaurant be able to sell a lot of it at $150 a bottle within a year of its release?) In this case, perhaps not. At a tasting we did in the spring of 2001, the 1997 was already closing down.

I thought it would be interesting to check out those "lesser" vintages of the last decade (plus), so we opened an '89, a '93, a '96 and a '98. With the exception of the '98, which I suspect will also come around, they were surprisingly good. Most unexpectedly, the '89 was still vibrant, with a sassy red fruit zing that reminded me of a Sweet Tart. '89 was generally just a lousy, diluted year in Napa, but I recall Todd saying when we visited the winery a few years later that he was pretty proud of his '89s, which is why we made a point of digging some up.

Anyway, the hit of the night was the '96, which had a definite cedar/cigar box thing happening wrapped in really sweet dark red fruit. I also liked the '93 quite a lot, but it had a little too much of an earthy, roasted nut nuance for some people. All in all, I'd say these wines were delicious but a bit on the simple side. They all lacked the complexity to qualify as first class, but I'm glad to them in my cellar.

The Ruffinos were an entirely different story. The Ducale Oro is Ruffino's top of the line Chianti Classico Riserva. It's another wine that's fallen out of favor in recent years and I wanted to see why. I've had the opportunity to try quite a few of the '85s, '86s and '88s over the years and have always been impressed. At this tasting, we opened the '88, '90, '95 and '97, without question the top vintages of that decade, but none of them showed very well.

Right off the bat, I made a mistake. I had fully intended to taste the Chiantis before the Cabs, but I numbered the bottles wrong (it was a blind tasting) and by the time I realized it, the first flight had been poured. After the rich, lush Cabernets, these wines tasted thin and dull, and it just goes to show how important such choices can be. But, that said, the wines were disappointing. As I said, I've tried the '88 several times before with meals and have always found it too young but promising, with none of the sour, tired flavors it had here.

Which brings up another point. Chiantis, for me, anyway, are food wines. They aren't fun to sip by themselves unless they've been manipulated with lots of new oak and/or excessive ripening for that purpose. So I'm going to reserve my judgment for now and hope that these wines will surprise and delight under better circumstances.

I'm accumulating quite a pile of things to post on here, and the problem is I've already forgotten what half of them tasted like. I have written notes to refresh my memory on the mini-vertical tasting I mentioned earlier, so I'm going to put that off just a bit longer.

From the Central California Coast. 1997 Hiching Post Syrah, Rodney's Vineyard. Wow. I've had the luxury of getting to taste these at regular intervals over the past few years and they're really starting to open up. The last one, about a year ago, was too explosively fruity to go well with food. This one was much calmer, still very fruity and really nice with grilled ostrich, which I usually pair with a Pinot from the same area. 1996 Foxen Vineyard Bien Nacido Pinot Noir, also with grilled ostrich, was at its peak. Gorgeous, almost a shame to drink with food but more of a shame not to. From top to bottom, one delightful mouthful after another of soft, pliable red fruit, long, exotic finish, round and mellow and just delicious. Most of the '96s I've opened lately have been thin and weedy and this was a wonderful surprise. And, alas, my last bottle.

From the Rhône Valley. Well, this is the time of the year that I usually start lightening up on the California Pinot and getting back to the Rhône. I was pretty disappointed in the 1989 Jaboulet Aîné Côte Rôtie Les Jumelles, though. It was a pale shadow of what I expected, so much so that I can't say much more than that about it. The 1994 Beaucastel Châteauneuf-du-Pape, on the other hand, was a blockbuster. Not nearly "ready," but loads of fun to drink, especially by comparison to the Les Jumelles, with which we had started the same evening. This one's still not knit together, but its parts are enjoyable as they are. The 1995 La Vieux Donjon was also tight, much less approachable than the '94 we had a few weeks ago, but showing promise. Like I said, my specific memories of these Rhônes are already fuzzy. Impressions for future reference.

Oh. The '86 Montelena. Well, that'll have to wait, too. It's way past my bedtime.

Well, this is a first. Two posts in one night. But I just noticed my previous post on the 91 Chave Hermitage. Tried another a few nights ago with a few not-so-great lamb chops. But the wine was a vast improvement over the previous bottle. Much better balance, just a touch of VA, still earthy with a little of the animal fur thing but much more nuanced and very enjoyable.

I have a few more bottles of this stuff and I'll never know what to expect when I open one. Ah, the mysteries of wine. Frankly, this is one of the mysteries I could live without.

Yeegads! Time flies, doesn't it? My other blog's a time hog. Lame excuse, but it's really the truth.

OK, I need to post on the double mini-vertical tasting I hosted last night (well, Thursday night . . . it's still Friday somewhere). But my writing skills are hampered right now by the lateness of the hour and, yeah, a touch too much alcohol. We cracked a 94 San Vincente Rioja tonight, among other things. Last time I tried it, it was all overblown American oak and no fruit. Well, the fruit woke up and the oak toned down and it's quite a nice drink at the moment. Especially with a nicely grilled rabbit marinated in dijon mustard and fresh rosemary. It went well with the eggplant (also grilled), too.

Mini-vert: four "off" vintages of Anderson's Conn Valley Cab (dyn-o-mite!) and four "on" vintages of Ruffino Chianti Classico Gold Label (I'll post notes -- soon).

We've been breaking into our stash of '94 Chateauneufs this week. Last year, I thought they were starting to fade, but it seems they were actually just coming back from a nice, long nap. A few nights ago, the Vieux Telegraphe seemed almost like a pimpley adolescent, young and aluring and just a shade premature. But a very enjoyable bottle nonetheless. I think we'll wait a while before we pop the next one. The Vieux Donjon tonight seemed a shade more approachable. Unlike the VT, this one had loads of sediment at the bottom. But the fruit was equally pure, the finish almost as long and the tannins more resolved. These may last for years, but I've had far too many disappointing experiences lately with wines held too long.

A probable case of over-aging (though it could have been a bad bottle) was our last '95 Au Bon Climat Les Bauges Pinot Noir earlier this week. We bought two of these and included the first one in a tasting a few years ago. It was scrumptious but immature. This one was nothing short of putrid. It was full of sour, vegetal smells and flavors and they just compounded on the finish until I had to go wash out the taste with something strong. What a huge disappointment, as I was expecting big things from this wine. I'm back to suspecting that California Pinots don't age well. Drink them for their young, effusive fruit and enjoy. Especially those from the Central Coast.

But, as always, there's an exception. When the ABC proved undrinkable, we tried our last bottle (alas) of the '93 Lane Tanner Sanford & Benedict. We found a bunch of these on close-out and every one of them has been a true pleasure. Yes, the fruit was a little more profound a year or two ago, but this was still a great bottle of wine. Beautiful, balanced fruit, sublety and nuance. These (LT) wines do age, and very gracefully, at that.

1985 Ruffino Riserva Ducale Oro Chianti Classico - Tenimenti Ruffino gets no respect no more. Really. I maybe should have given up on this producer a while back, but the '85s and '86s were so great that I've kept buying them in quantity up through '97. We'll see. The Speculator has lost faith, clearly. The wine is rarely even mentioned in lavish spreads on Tuscany these days. And you don't see as many ads in those glossy pages any more, either. That doesn't exactly weigh heavily with me.

The '85 is still an earth-mover. It lacks some of the power it had a few years ago, but it fills the gap with finesse. You need to pay attention to it. But if you do, you'll be rewarded. It's got body, it's got ripe cherries and it's got a hint of nostalgia. Betraying my years, I have to say they don't make 'em like this any more. Time to drink up, but it's still got the wow.

1982 Leoville Poyferre St. Julien - I know I can get that accent over the last "e" if I play around, but I'm feeling too lazy right now. I don't have much of this (only one more left) and this bottle wasn't all that exciting. It was perplexing, more than anything else. An absolutely fabulous nose, redolent of berries and vanilla and cocoa and sin, but in the mouth there was something that smacked of cork taint and it numbed the palate. And after sitting around for a few days it did become more approachable, never more corky (which pretty much exonerates the cork) but never great. It should have been great, based on my previous experience with this wine. So I'm going to call this a tainted bottle -- from what, I don't know.

I'm not convinced there's a rush to open the last one, but now I have no idea what to expect. It's somehow unfair for a wine this old and this venerable to be defective. That's why I'm rapidly becoming a screw-top convert. Even though I don't believe the cork was the culprit here, it all too often is. Romance is nice, but it doesn't last. Getting what you paid for is better.

Serious neglect is going on here. I don't know where the time's gone.

Some quickies. A 1986 Prunotto Bussia Barolo we opened last week at first appeared totally shot -- tannic and tough with no fruit showing. Vacu-vin'd for a few days, it started to open up some. It's certainly no fun to drink right now, so I plan to hold the remaining bottles for at least another year.

Meanwhile, a check on a 1995 Produttori del Barbaresco Ovello was pretty much the same story, not surprisingly, except that the fruit that's hiding is brighter and more explosively cherry (as opposed to the darker, brooding fruit in the Prunotto Barolo). Despite the disfavor that the '95s now suffer in light of the succeeding superlative vintages, this has promise.

Surprisingly(?), the '89 Ovello was also tight, tannic and still somewhat closed. I bought this one just recently from the cellar of a former restaurant that I used to frequent, and I had always found their wines to be fresh and well-maintained, so I'm hopeful that it just needs more time, but I don't know. The fruit doesn't really seem to be there.

And speaking of disappointments, a '91 Chave (J.L.) Hermitage the other night was screaming with volatile acidity, with very little fruit to be found. A bad bottle, perhaps? Unfortunately, storage very well may be the culprit here. This was purchased from a now-defunct retailer that wasn't exactly known for attention to its temperature controls. We'll see.

Finally, a tasting last night of upper level Vincent Girardin red Bugundies from the '98 and '99 vintages. Given that these wines are doubtless withholding much of their attraction at this point, it was still a disappointing showing for most of the participants. I actually enjoyed many of the wines quite a bit, but they were strange, sometimes extreme, and most of them bore very little resemblance to Burgundies.

There's a tired old argument about whether a wine needs to accurately reflect its varietal and territorial origins in order to be "good." I still have no firm opinion on this question. I understand those who say that if it tastes good and is well put together, it doesn't matter if it matches the profile assigned to wines from that grape and place. Good is good, and I wouldn't refuse a glass of Rioja that tasted good just because it tasted like a good Bordeaux. Certainly not. But when I go to pair wines with food and I'm looking for a delicate, ethereal cherry-flavored Burgundy and instead find a monster sized chocolate-covered raspberry cordial in my glass, I'm likely to be annoyed. Wine is still a beverage to be drunk with food, and while some wines make for great tasting or even great drinking by themselves, this isn't usually the purpose for which I buy them.

That said, I thought the two most fascinating wines of the night were the two Cotes-de-Beaune wines. The '99 Corton Perrieres was, to me, a spicy, chocolate/cocoa bomb with just enough of a hint of cherry/raspberry fruit at the center to make it palatable. I liked it, but the group of 8 people tasting scored it dead last. I also enjoyed the '99 Pommard Les Grand Epenots, another anomaly. This was a monster, exuding mushroomy, earthy smells and tasting of leather, black fruit and raw beef. The group didn't care for this one, either.

But my favorite of the night was also the group's favorite. The '98 Chambolle Musigny Les Amoureuses was full of rich, ripe cherry flavor and was long, layered and complex. Best of all, it tasted like Burgundy.

Welcome to my blog. Hello? Is there anyone there? Well, probably not, but that's ok. I'm having fun. Still fixing up the place and stuff.

The previous post is an attempt at humor. I try that once in a while. And it's kind of a carryover from a different blog. But mostly I'll just be posting about wine here. Sort of haphazardly, I guess. I don't expect that this blog will be too serious.

No time for notes tonight. But for all you Zin fans out there (I know, I'm writing as if I had an audience -- practice) who still think they don't age, I just tried a '93 Ravenswood Old Hill last night and, well, it did. So did the '92 Belloni I had the night before. Pretty well, too.
Later.

I have this friend. Let's call her May. She's great, she's really great. But she says she doesn't like red wine. She says it gives her headaches. Well, we all know that what's really giving her headaches is all that tannin in the lousy young red plonk she's probably drinking. I'd like to help her see the error of her ways. She says she finds Cabernet too dry. And of course that's the fault of those pesky tannins, too. You have to watch out for them. They'll lead you astray every time. May just doesn't realize how important it is to drink red wine. It's healthy. Everyone knows that. Good for your heart, good for your brain, good for everything. In moderation, of course. It's healthier than white wine, a lot healthier than beer and much much healthier than cocktails. It's probably healthier than health food. So-called health food. And it's good for the soul, too. Not in the religious sense (we don't discuss religion on this blog -- not ever), but in the satisfying, warm-haze-that-comes-with-the-good-life sense. I really need to find a way to share an excellent old mellow bottle of Bordeaux with May. That'll bring her around. She'll love it. Her life will be changed for the better forever.

I have another friend. Let's call him Pete. He says he won't eat meat. Is that sad, or what? I have to show Pete the error of his ways. Next week, I'm going to invite him over and serve him a nice, juicy steak. Disguised as tofu. He'll love it. Red meat's great. Share the love.