This weekend my parents came to town, bringing with them a 1980 Ridge. My father had purchased the wine several years ago for somewhere between ten and twenty dollars. At the time, he and his collegues felt that giving the wine some time to age would only further improve its quality. A plane ride to Colorado and nearly thirty years later, he had decided to uncork it.
Maybe it was the whole experience, but I think I was destined to fall in love with the Ridge. Aged to perfection, with a cork the color of blood, the 1980 Ridge was fabulous. And the best part, was that he hadn't spent a fortune either.
