I take long walks along our gravel road. Over four miles I may see no one else except birds and forest creatures. By custom, when a person passes, by car or on foot, I wave and say hello. This would feel over-friendly on a busy street, but in the rural wilds such gestures are the glue that binds us.
Over time, strangers resolve into acquaintances. We pause to remark on the weather or town events. We introduce ourselves, first names only. Later, full names. Over time, acquaintances resolve into friends.
And so my husband and I found ourselves last May in the home of two neighbors I’d met this way, a couple who’d lived in Switzerland and New York and travel often, vote Blue, and love wine. Over a simple, perfect dinner of grilled lamb and couscous, they shared two beautifully aged Bordeaux they’d bought as futures and cellared in their supreme stone basement.
By now it was late October and high time to reciprocate. I roasted a pork loin and made an apple strudel, whirled up a roasted butternut squash soup, steamed spinach with sautéed leeks, and roasted waxy potatoes. We opened two Corisons, a Kronos 2017 and a Sunbasket 2019. We joked it was a “vertical horizontal,” since the vintages were separated by a couple of years and the vineyards are separated by less than a mile. Our friends know French Cabernet well but California Cabernet hardly at all, and so we’d hope these wines would serve as an introduction to the prototype.
Both Cabs were scintillant, as always, but I was grateful for the chance to A/B them. The Kronos was more evolved than I’d expected given its vintage (Cathy’s wines are supremely age-worthy). It had a nutty midsection and fruit that conjured, according to my notes, “autumnal berries.” (It’s not much of a stretch; my raspberry canes are still yielding fruit.) The texture was bewitching, the tannins having resolved into something like kid suede.
The Sunbasket was, as its namesake implies, blooming with fruits and flowers, sunny and gleaming. Its armature of tannins was notably firm when compared against the suppler Kronos. Flavors of red and black fruits glimmered on its satiny acidity, and these lingered long after the sip.
The Graham’s vintage 2000 port was smooth and glorious, with a heady fragrance of herbs, lavender, and roses and a midsection of resplendent berry fruits brushed with toasted anise seed. Vintage port is a rare and special treat for us; I’ve been privileged to taste these wines in Portugal far more often than on home shores.
We didn’t drink all of this, of course, but the wines stayed vibrantly alive for later enjoyment. As all beautifully made wines do.
2017 Corison Cabernet Sauvignon Kronos Vineyard St. Helena Napa Valley
13.9% ABV | About $250 (sample)
2019 Corison Cabernet Sauvignon Sunbasket Vineyard St. Helena Napa Valley
13.9% ABV | About $250 (sample)
2000 Graham’s Port
20% ABV | About $150 (I paid $100)
Lovely report. Thanks for the update on the Port. I recently opened a 375 of the 2000 Fonseca, but have the Graham’s waiting in the wings.
Thanks for reading, David.