To celebrate a good friend’s 60th birthday, we went to Chef Cindy Wolf’s superb restaurant, Charleston, situated in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor, a few blocks from the National Aquarium. Four days before our visit, Chef Wolf had received an order of summer white truffles from Umbria, Italy, which my colleague, Dr. Jay Miller, had enjoyed a few days before. He said they were among the finest summer truffles he had ever had ... and Dr. Jay knows his truffles! For those not in the truffle loop, summer truffles are significantly less perfumed and intensely flavored than Piedmont’s white truffles harvested in October, November, and December, as well as France’s black truffles from Périgord and the Vaucluse harvested in December, January, and February. The truffles we had this evening at Charleston were beautiful to look at, but appeared to have lost much of their aromatics. One could still smell the slight earthy mustiness that is so appealing, but the flavors did not live up to what I had hoped for. Then again, I have never been convinced by summer white truffles. Overall, this was probably the least impressive meal I have had at this restaurant. Cindy Wolf is a great chef, but on a Saturday evening, an overflowing crowd creates enormous demands on the kitchen. The lack of flavor in the truffles, a flawed, over-salted salad dish, and a so-so loin of lamb were in complete contrast to all the terrific meals I have enjoyed in the past. They did prove that at least Chef Wolf is human. All of my favorite restaurants have been off-form on at least one occasion. It just happens, and there is not much you can do about it. That said, the cornmeal-crusted oysters were a 100-point dish and I have yet to witness another chef who can deep fry as well as Cindy Wolf.

As for the wines, the 1979 Krug has been glorious for many years, but this bottle was slightly tired and listless. That was followed by an excellent premier cru white Burgundy from the Duc de la Magenta, the domaine marketed by the large Burgundian négociant Louis Jadot. Not a trace of oxidation (a common problem with many 1996 white Burgundies) was noticeable in this vivid, young, tasty wine.

We then moved to the Bordeaux reds. The first three were from one of the slowest maturing, and what should prove to be one of the longest lived vintages in the last thirty years, 1986. The glorious perfume of the 1986 Pichon Lalande was aromatically the most interesting and complex of the three 1986s. Cedar, spice box, black fruits, red cherry, sandalwood and earth notes emerged from its beautiful bouquet. In the mouth, it was silky, medium to full-bodied, and close to its plateau of maturity. Although 21 years of age, it is a late adolescent in terms of its life span. The top vintages of the large St.-Julien estate, Talbot, have always been the 1986 and 1982, and both were spectacular on this occasion. We started with the 1986, figuring it was a firmer, slightly leaner vintage than the more opulent 1982. This bottle of 1986 exhibited incredibly complex notes of roasted herbs intermixed with licorice, saddle leather, and sweet black cherry as well as currant fruit. Full-bodied, fleshy, and rich, this fully mature 1986 will easily last for another decade or more. Still an infant - but what an impressive one - the 1986 Mouton Rothschild must be the wine of the vintage. It will probably not hit its peak of maturity until age forty. Much denser than the other two 1986s, with no amber or lightening at the rim, it was an inky/dark/purple to the edge of the glass. Despite having been decanted for several hours, the wine was completely shut down, but some spice, licorice, crème de cassis, and graphite eventually emerged with airing. Whether it was the food or the airing, the wine seemed to sweeten in the mouth. This rich, prodigious Mouton should prove to be one of the all-time great Moutons ever made. It will be providing fabulous drinking when most of us are decomposing six feet under.

We then moved to three wines from my cellar, two of which I purchased as futures and cellared at 55 degrees Fahrenheit since I took possession of them in 1984-1985. The beautiful 1982 Talbot is very much in the style of the 1986 aromatically, but in the mouth, it displays more sweetness, glycerin, and fatness as well as a more expansive mouthfeel. It was amazing how similar the 1982's bouquet was to the 1986's as the two vintages could not have been more different from a climatic perspective. Perhaps the greatest Gruaud Larose every made (although I don’t want to insult anyone who owns the 1961), the 1982 continues to go from strength to strength. Dark plum/garnet to the rim, it boasts an extraordinary nose of underbrush, blackberries, cedar, truffles, incense, and licorice. Full-bodied, powerful, and rich, but impeccably balanced, with decanting, it becomes civilized as well as complex and sumptuous. This wine seems to be moving to a plateau of early maturity, where it should remain for 30 or more years. Fabulous!

Lastly, to celebrate my dear friend’s 60th birthday, we opened my last bottle of 1947 Vieux Château Certan (which I had purchased from a private cellar in Belgium). Decanted right before it was served (because you never know the condition of these bottles), the cork broke, but it was an authentic château cork. The wine smelled slightly volatile and rustic, but as with many old vintages, decanting proved to be the key as the bouquet calmed down. Aromas of sweet caramel, incense, spice, and caramelized black cherry and cassis fruit emerged. In keeping with the style of the vintage for Pomerol, it was port-like, staggeringly rich, and pure. If the bouquet merited a 90-92? score, the flavors, texture, depth, and overall harmony were worth 100 points.