One day, in 2003 or so, I went to a dinner party on Roosevelt Island and the host and I were discussing wine when he paused and asked me to walk with him. We stopped in front of a closet, the door of which he opened. Within was a Eurocave, something I had wanted for a while but did not have the $3,000 (or more) that was required for its purchase. John told me that his wife and he were returning to England and that I could have his French beauty for $150. Well, the night immediately became more interesting. I right then and there shook his hand and agreed to take care of transporting it to my apartment.
Since then, the unit has moved with me to several apartments in Brooklyn, to Dubai, and now to Houston, where this past week I unpacked it from its snug cardboard cocoon – it was shipped from Dubai to Florida in 2012 – and plugged it in. Its solid compressor hummed into life, and the bottles I had on hand are resting at a comfortable temperature.
This Eurocave is old – just how old I am not certain. It does not have a tempered glass door or a digital temperature and humidity indicator. What it does have is quality components, and history. Personal history. I buy a lot of wine, and friends often give me wine as a gift. I can recall many, many bottles that spent most of their lives inside my cave, and, by extension, the people who gave them to me. From France, from Germany, California, Italy, Spain. Right now, as it begins it life in Houston, it is taking care of, among a few other selections, a 2010 Bond Pluribus, a Malbec, and a great wine from Chinon, all birthday gifts I received this past weekend from good friends, thoughtful people who share the love of wine with me. I look forward to sharing glasses with them soon.
Welcome to Houston, Eurocave. And thank you for your service to my wines.