1982 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild

You wouldn’t toss a new driver the keys to a 1965 427 Shelby Cobra and tell the kid to “see what this thing will do” … and I shouldn’t be anywhere near this bottle of 1982 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild.

The Gin Guy gets to finally review a wine. And for my wine I would like to review the bottle in front of me. This 1982 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild has waited a full 20 years and it’s ready to be drank. Or drunk. Or whatever’s the proper wine term. I realize that I am staring at label designed by John Huston that marks one of the very finest wines ever bottled on this civilized earth. I have my Riedel glasses, a pencil, and my Damn Good Wine Tasting Sheet. Hell, I’m even wearing a white lab coat.


Greg and Vin made me sign a stack of papers a few years back stating that I would never knowingly review any wine on this web site. ‘Something about gin and what it’s done to my mind and my brain’s inability to tell red from white, sweet from dry – and they were being nice. I consider these guys friends, but I can’t turn back because it’s taken me a very long time to get at the business end of this bottle; well that’s a story in itself…

I was having a rash of martinis last week with dear old Dad, when he mentioned that he had run into a former student a few days earlier and had a pleasant dinner with him. Randy was a Rhodes scholar and now a successful businessman who had returned to catch up with his favorite college professor. “Catching up” meant fine restaurant dining, witty discussions of past and current affairs, and a departing gift of a nice bottle of some kind of French wine.

And I was told, because it’s a French wine, it’s probably good and dry. Ever the curious and prying son, I chewed the olive, drained the Boodles and rose to search for the gift bottle to appraise its worth. If it was decent we could drink it warm with dinner; if it was bad then we could add it to the stewing beef and enjoy it as a culinary reduction. It was hiding with the pots and pans next to a bottle of Avia Beaujolais and a 3 liter jug of Berio Virgin Olive Oil. Removing the bottle, I thought what a pretty label it has and then I read it. My French isn’t good, but it was good enough on that evening.

The outside world may be a challenging place to The Gin Guy, but I’m not stupid. I know what a Chateau Mouton-Rothschild is and I know what 1982 is supposed to have produced. It’s the biggest Bordeaux there is. “The best wines that money can buy…” according to Sotheby’s Wine Encyclopedia. Chateau Mouton-Rothschild is a chateau in Pauillac, a Bordeaux appellation. The Mouton-Rothschild is a “1er Cru Classe” or “Premier Cru” or “first growth” (the best of the best) – a 3 out of 3 star wine. It is 85% Cab, 10% Cab Franc, and 5% Merlot.

It will taste great with proper aging and can age 20 to 60 years. So, you can drink it now, or wait some more. There are only three “first growths” in Pauillac – Lafite-Rothschild and Mouton-Rothschild in the north of Pauillac, and Latour in the south of Pauillac. The label has a “1er” or “first” classification. It doesn’t get any better.

We didn’t crack the bottle that night but we damn should have. Within days word spread and you could have sold postcards on his front lawn. His grape sucking friend, Roberto, has been hanging around night and day. Robbie’s transparent urgings like “Hey Professor, the Red Sox pulled it out in the 10th, this calls for some celebrating,” or “I’ve got a mighty fine London Broil I’d like to cook up for you tonight – your job is to surprise me with a great bottle of red wine,” are really REALLY getting me nervous.

So here I am, one week later. I’m embarrassed to say that I MAY have suggested to him that the 80’s wasn’t the best decade for imported wines (there’s got to be some truth to that) and that I’m not really sure how dry that French wine really is (I’m not.) So he’s agreed to open it up and drink it… now we get to enjoy it. It’s either this Mouton Rothschild or it’s that Avia from the closet. But to tell you the truth I’m getting cold feet. For starters I can only work one of those eagle-wing corkscrews and I suppose that this particular cork should be kept pristine and intact.

And I can’t remember if “legs” are good or bad. To be honest, The Gin Guy’s a little scared in this sober man’s game. I usually don’t hit double digits for my wine purchases, and a restaurant’s triple digits for a great bottle of Opus One or Caymus causes me to close the list and head back to the safety of the top shelf of the bar. But when a mere 750 ml. enters the four figure range, I’ve got no business being in the room. Pulling out a power legend after a few decades is NOT the way to teach.

I wouldn’t toss a new driver the keys to a 1965 427 Shelby Cobra and tell the kid to “see what this thing will do.” You wouldn’t gather a little league team in the spring and invite in Cardinal great Bob Gibson to show the kids how to handle a fastball that’s “high and inside.” And I shouldn’t be anywhere near this bottle of 1982 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild.

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