Imperial Madness

or

What the heck do you do with a 6.0 liter bottle of Zinfandel?

As remembered by

M. Dow Lambert III

30 October 2003

While visiting home not long after Mom opened The Wine Cellar, I was intrigued to discover this very large bottle of 1974 Sutter Home Amador County Zinfandel. I noticed it reclining regally on a bed of straw, in a custom-made wooden box, peeking out from behind the park bench Mom used as an entertainment center for the young children of her customers.

The label states that this is a Special Selection bottling from the best grapes of an exceptional vintage, packaged in an Imperial size bottle. An Imperial bottle, according to wine guides and the back label on this bottle, contains six liters of wine, which is the equivalent of eight 750ml bottles, or two-thirds of a case of wine. I estimate the full bottle weighed about 25 pounds.

(Note: click any picture to see a larger view, then click the "Back" button to return to this page.)

To give you a better idea of how big this bottle is, here it is next to a 750ml bottle of 1976 Chateau Montelena North Coast Cabernet Sauvignon. It is a really big bottle of wine.

"That's a really big bottle of wine," I said to Mom, stating the obvious. "Wouldn't it be fun to serve that at a party?" Little did I suspect that almost five years later I would get the opportunity to do just that!

Whenever I visited The Wine Cellar over the next several years I checked to see if The Bottle was still there. It always was. Thinking back on it now, and remembering that a fifth of this same wine probably sold for under $10, I suspect that the $175.00 price tag Mom put on the wine was intended to discourage anybody from actually buying it. She was like that sometimes.

During this period I became quite fond of lamb, and particularly liked Julia Child's recipe for butterflying a leg, marinating it in olive oil, soy sauce, lemon zest, and lots of garlic and fresh rosemary, and grilling it over charcoal. Marlene and I prepared this feast numerous times for Mom, Dad, and anybody else that we could entice to join us. At one of these events I mentioned my fantasy of someday cooking an entire lamb, either in a pit or on a spit, but that I didn't have a clue about how to do it. Dad, always prepared to participate in any venture that might lead to another feast, suggested that we consult Wil Masset, our favorite master chef, and owner of Birchfield Manor Gourmet Restaurant in Moxee, WA.

Being men of action, the next morning Dad and I called Wil and invited ourselves out for a cup of coffee and a negotiating session. We told Wil that we wanted to invite him and his family to a lamb feed. We'd pay for the lamb and bring the wine, and he would provide the facilities and supervision. We'd invite a few friends, and he could too. The deal was made and we set about organizing the event, sending invitations, and selecting the wines we would serve with the lamb. Hmmmm...what wine would go good with lamb and serve a bunch of people.....?

Having decided to sacrifice The Bottle to the lamb feast, Mom and I gave careful consideration to who among us we should delegate the awesome responsibility for opening the bottle and pouring the wine. This task required a certain amount of experience, maturity, steady nerves, and a solid grounding in physical sciences. Being somewhat of a novice in the wine business at this time, and being well-grounded in social sciences instead of physical sciences, I did not feel that I was up to the task. I always had difficulty in my physics classes with vectors, forces, and wave action, and I suspected that the successful sommelier would have to triumph over these rascals before the deed was done.

Fortunately, we had recently inducted into our circle of friends Wilbur Vance Johnson, Professor and Chairman of the Physics Department at Central Washington University, owner of the Mt. Stuart Wine Gallery in Ellensburg, co-Director of the Yakima-Kittitas chapter of Les Amis du Vin, former sommelier of McCullough's Restaurant in Ellensburg, and all around jolly good sport. Wil accepted the challenge, did the requisite research, solved a few impossibly complex calculations involving imaginary numbers, and approached the bottle with a nonchalance that belied the inward trepidation he must have felt.

Wil's opening move was to carefully cut and remove the top portion of the capsule, using a specially modified waiter's corkscrew with an extra long and recently sharpened screw.

What happened next has always been a bit of a mystery to me. As you can see in this photo, Wil appears to have leaped back, as if fearing the cork might burst violently from the bottle after being freed from the restraint of the capsule. Mom appears oblivious to this danger, and fortunately the cork remained firmly seated in the neck of the bottle. Nobody was hurt, but several people did stand back a few feet further from where the action was.

"Just kidding," Wil assures Mom, as he steps back to the bottle and inserts the tip of the corkscrew. "I'll have this rascal out of here in no time!"

Hmmmm...my reaction time was too slow to catch what really happened here, but the cork turned out to be about half as long as expected, and Wil gave a nice big tug on it and nearly hit himself in the head when it popped out with almost no resistance. This photo captured the action as his arm was already on the down swing, but you can still see a bit of a perplexed, if not surprised, look on his face. Mom, as usual, is greatly entertained by the whole event.

I asked Wil for an instant replay so I could get a better picture of the action.

Some wine aficionados believe it is a good idea to stick the cork up your nose, while others believe it is better to stick your nose into the bottle. Mom and Wil were on opposite sides of this issue, and there was a tense moment as the rest of us anxiously awaited the outcome of this diagnostic procedure. Please do not attempt this on your own without adequate training.

Mom looks a bit undecided about the cork as Wil sets the bottle on the dinner table in preparation for pouring.

As the revelers patiently await the arrival of the lamb from the kitchen, Wil takes a moment to say a quick prayer to Dionysus that just this once a nine-year-old Zinfandel will have some fruit left, and not just be all alcohol and tannin.

All is well, and I am drafted into duty to help decant the wine. I have seen Wil pour hundreds of bottles of wine, but this is the first time I ever saw him use two hands. I think the punt in the bottom of the bottle was too deep for him to get a good one-handed grip, or surely he would have tried.

The Zinfandel was good, if not exciting. The lamb, prepared three ways (roasted, grilled, and curried), was excellent, and accompanied by sauteed summer vegetables and homemade breads. The weather was perfect, the company congenial, and a good time was had by all.