Tonight, I opened a bottle of 2005 Gallo of Sonoma Cab Sauv. This was one of the last of my experiments in aging relatively cheap wines, i.e., about $10 at the time. It has held up quite nicely. Lots of mineral, fruit has receded a bit, nice tannins, a bit of earth or smoke. I am happy with it (only one bottle left).
As a similar, but more extreme, example, I was at a friend's home last night who is starting to realize that he has more wine stored than years on this Earth left would warrant. He opened for us a nice 1985 (!) Château Olivier, from Léognan in Graves. This is a Grand Cru classé.
This wine was enjoyable, but it was past its peak, I would assert. However, I felt a little abashed about this pronouncement: Upon opening, we were taking the first sips, and the four of us were circumspect in our assessments. After some timorous praises, I offered that, while very nice, it was certainly past its prime. (The wine was quite oxidized and even a little cloudy.) That is not to say it was not enjoyable: it was quite tasty, and showed strong minerality, but the color was poor (a bit brown) and the flavor a bit off, and even a touch sour. I felt a little creepy to be criticizing the wine that he saved for 30 years just to serve to me, but I felt like I had to be honest.
However, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum. Contrary to my expectations, the wine opened up over the next 20 minutes. I thought that would not happen to such an aged wine, but it changed remarkably, and for the better. We enjoyed quaffing it so much that we were fighting for the dregs!
Another disquieting event happened during all of this. Because we were drinking a wine that was nearly exactly 30 years old, I proposed that we share what we were each doing in 1985. Seemed harmless and fun! Of the four of us, the host is in his mid 70s, two are about 50, and one, whom I had never met before, was in her 40s. I went first, and I had graduated from college that year, and shared stories about transitioning from driving a wholesale produce truck one day to working as a nuclear physicist the next day. Another party had a similarly profound transition that year, while the "codger" was in mid-career that year. However, little did I know, but the 40-something, whom I did not know, was discomfited by this (seemingly harmless) exercise. She was an adopted child, who was being terribly abused by her adoptive parents during this year. My question put her on the spot and on her back heel in a way that I did not anticipate and deeply regret.