I admit it. I have a strange weakness for Over the Hill Wines. Last night we opened a 1997 Ravenswood Old Vines Zinfandel, a wedding gift. (My Book Club gave me a basket of wines, one from each member. I suspect someone's husband of slipping her this one from their cellar.) BUT, but, but. . . I thought it very very lovely. Of course, it was just a shadow of its former self, but the nose was as sweetly variable as a summer breeze. The taste was always fine, even though slight. No finish, but the garnet color was beautiful. I was reminded of many ancient burgundies I tasted with my former husband at fancy wine dinners, where the men would refuse to drink more than a sip of some biblical wine too far gone for their standards of vigor and robustitude. To me, the dying wines were stories; ghosts of their well-made selves, a privilege to taste.
My current husband and I drink so cheaply, that a wine with age, even too much, is a treat. But even he felt a bit cheated, while I just enjoyed.
What about you?