Instead of box scores, many of our conversations concern different numbers: tasting scores and what years certain wines are ideally ready to drink.
As Father's Day approaches, my mind naturally turns to wine.
Actually, my mind probably turned to wine a long time ago. But this holiday reminds me of what a large role wine plays in my relationship with my father.
Many fathers and sons bond over sports. That certainly has played a role in my relationship with my father. But more than March Madness (which lasts a mere three weeks) or Grand Slam tennis tournaments (which don't last long enough), it's wine that often keeps us talking week after week, even after we've talked about everything else going on in our lives.
Instead of box scores or bottom lines, many of our conversations concern different numbers: tasting scores and what years certain wines are ideally ready to drink. Certain people go crazy listening to us talk about such things, sometimes for an hour or more. Which is why we often talk about these things when it's just the two of us together or on the phone.
The same thing goes for my conversations about a certain wine my father or myself tried a day or two ago. Often, when I'm driving to or from work, I'll call him and we'll talk about what each of us thought about a particular wine.
(In the past year, I've also started to have similar conversations about wine with my father-in-law. I look forward to many, many more talks for many years to come.)
These conversations always make me feel more relaxed. And I think they have the same effect on my dad. Unless of course if we strongly disagree about a particular wine. But that rarely happens. Probably because he helped shape my palate and we share so many of the same tastes in wine.
We both feel strongly subtle Bordeauxs, full-bodied Burgundies, dry German rieslings, Oregon pinot noirs, New Zealand sauvignon blancs and certain California zinfandels.Although I must admit I'm more of a fan of many lower cost bargains. Nothing makes me more excited than discovering a wine I love that costs less than $10 a bottle. (And have I found a good for $4, which I'll write about here next week.)
That's why I know I can rarely go wrong if I bring him and my mom back a bottle of wine I discovered at a store or while on vacation somewhere. We were actually just debating whether a particular wine I gave him in 2005 (an Achaval Ferrer Finca Mirador from Argentina) is ready to drink. The verdict: we both agreed to keep our bottles in our basements a bit longer.
We've also made mistakes in the past. Like the time I bought him a bottle of Marcassin Pinot Noir for a certain milestone birthday (I think it must have been his 70th birthday, but I could be wrong. I'm simply saying that based on the age of the wine, which I still have the empty bottle for somewhere in my house. I'm just not exactly sure where at the moment.) We drank the Marcassin one night soon after but both sadly agreed the wine was definitely a few years too young.
Again, some of you probably find some of this boring. You're not alone. But between my dad and myself, we can talk about these things for hours. And one of the things that's so great about these conversations is how they often meander from talking about a particular wine to remembering a certain time we might have shared one of them together.
The same similar thing happens every time I open a wine my parents gave to me. That's because my dad often writes a lot of notes on every single bottle of wine he gives to me. Little notes about the wine's rating and when it's roughly ready to drink. He's been doing this for years. And it always comes in handy whenever I'm looking for a bottle of wine that's ready to drink on a moment's notice.
My dad used to write down similar notes on bottles of wine he gave to his father. Recently, when I was downstairs in my parents' house helping my dad decide on what wine to have with dinner, he talked about how he used to write an "A" on each bottle he gave to my grandfather.
"A" stood for my grandfather's first name, Adrian. He loved wine as much as my father. That's why he either had a glass of wine or Scotch every day exactly at 5 p.m. You could literally set your watch by the time exact moment he would say "Skol" every day.
Adrian Ross died in 2004 at the age of 92 years old. He lived a rich, full life and there's probably not a day that goes by that I still don't think about him.
My father thinks about his father many times as well. And one of the times he does is every time he comes across a bottle marked with an "A" in his cellar. There aren't many left. Which is probably what makes those "A" wines so extra special.
So this Father's Day, if wine's your thing, raise a glass to your dad and thank him for everything he's done to make your life more rewarding. I know I will. And it'll probably be a wine that's ready to drink. And the reason I'll know is all those notes and numbers written in pencil on the label on the bottle - leaving me more time to talk to my dad all about the wine.