My family did not have a strong wine tradition when I was growing up, unless the four liter jugs of Almaden Mountain Chablis stockpiled in my grandfather's storeroom counts. It seemed fancier than a beer can to me even at a young age though. My father kept a wine cellar in the basement of his house but many of the bottles stored there had simply been forgotten. The bottle of Blue Nun 1973 still makes me grin, they don't bother vintage dating that wine any longer. Corks dropped out of the neck of some bottles, swimming in the ever-dwindling wine within, as evaporation took its toll.
Fortunately for me, a few bottles of first-growth Bordeaux from my birth year fared better. I was lucky enough to partake of a Lafite Rothschild and two bottles of Mouton Rothschild born in the same year I was. The vintage (1967) was not a good one and the wines were far from impressive but sharing the experience with my Dad proved memorable. I appreciated his effort and have now extended the concept to my daughter, in hopes of enjoying similar moments with her more than a decade from now.
Her wines may or may not be at their peak when we open them, but I learned from the bottles shared with family and close family friends that simply opening a treasured bottle was cause for celebration. Memories sprung from the experience of getting together more than the bottle itself, much like baking cookies with your children will mean more than buying the treats, even if the store bought taste much better.
Thanks again Dad, I look forward to sharing some bottles with you and my daughter sometime around 2024. Happy Father's Day