Who wouldn’t feel a sense of anticipation, sliding a knife through the tape binding a box of 12 bottles that have spent years lying in a dark vault, waiting for you to summon them for drinking?
Besides the thrill, there’s a satisfaction in the knowledge, as you select one to open, that there are 11 more to come back to again and again, perhaps years later, when the wine is even more mature, if you can keep your hands off it for that long.
I don’t buy this sort of wine often – household budgets don’t permit it – but on a damp and miserable day at the end of last year I took delivery of a case that I’d bought in early spring 2009. If I’m honest, I bought it by accident.
A friend and I went to a Rhône lunch in the cellars of Berry Bros & Rudd. We had quite a good time. We didn’t spit a thing, drank everything put in front of us, and then barrelled off for a digestif, which we were just enjoying...
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