Picture this: a dusty, bricked-up Paris cellar hiding bottles stamped with 'Th.J.'—Thomas Jefferson's initials. In 1985, one 1787 Château Lafite from that stash shatters records, selling for $156,000 at Christie's. But was it really Jefferson's? Or a masterful fake peddled by enigmatic collector Hardy Rodenstock?
Hardy Rodenstock, a former pop-band manager with a nose for rare vintages, wouldn't disclose the cellar's exact spot. Whispers grew: Nazi loot? Forgery? The buyer, a Forbes heir, didn't flinch at first. Enter Michael Broadbent, the tweed-clad British auctioneer who waxed poetic about wines like old flames, vouching for its authenticity. His rival, Serena Sutcliffe, insured her palate for millions—talk about commitment to taste.
Fast-forward two decades: Bill Koch, the brash Florida billionaire, smells a rat. He launches a dogged investigation spanning Monticello to Munich, unearthing labs that date ancient bottles via isotopes and sediment. Koch's quest drags in lawyers, scientists, and even Rodenstock's murky past, revealing a web of deceit that could rival any thriller novel.
Benjamin Wallace doesn't just chase the con; he pours out Jefferson's boozy French escapades, where the founding father guzzled culture alongside claret. You'll tour underground European labs scrutinizing cork marks and glass etchings, and ponder how passion for old wine breeds obsession—and occasional fraud. It's sensory too: imagine swirling a 200-year-old Bordeaux, notes of leather and earth rising, authenticity hanging in the balance.
For wine enthusiasts questioning bottle pedigrees, history buffs craving Jefferson anecdotes, or armchair detectives itching for a real-life caper, The Billionaire's Vinegar delivers suspense without the hangover. Curl up with it on a rainy night, glass in hand (non-vintage okay), and let the mystery ferment. This hardcover isn't just a book—it's your ticket to the shadowy side of oenophile excess, proving some stories age better than the finest vintages.
