
Photos by Caitlin Abrams
Jon Grassman Wine Storage LLC
Jon Grassman may not fit your mental picture of a wine expert. What with his towering frame and long, storm-colored beard, he reads more Paul Bunyan than Robert Parker. But there we were a month or so ago, chatting in his basement cave, somewhere beneath a commercial building in Wayzata (exact location: hush-hush), surrounded by a few million dollars’ worth of fine wine. With one hand he’d toss a tennis ball for his black lab, Kona, to chase down the stacks, and with the other he’d pull out a small vineyard grower Champagne, which he thinks will make people smile.
From this chilly 4,500-square-foot room—go ahead and borrow one of the spare coats on the hooks—Grassman runs Wine Storage LLC. It’s a secure, climate-controlled wine storage facility for collectible wines, forever set to 55 degrees and 60 percent humidity. Some are his; others belong to well-heeled collectors. From the big oak table at its center, the low-ceilinged room branches out to either side with rows of basic wood-slat shelving, which hold bottles, cases, and crates. This plainness, paradoxically, sparks curiosity: What liquid gold might be hidden among the boxes? Why have some clients stashed more than 500 cases (that’s 6,000-plus bottles!) here, while others have stored a single bottle?
What’s in that bottle?!
There’s the mystique and then there’s the money. Grassman’s conversion experience came only a decade ago, when a neighbor beckoned him to share a bottle of Bordeaux on the back deck. This wine mentor sparked the journey which led him to establish this vault as part of a wine investment holding. This vault is, at base, a business.
Is wine really that great of an investment? I asked.
“I mean, not really,” Grassman said, almost chortling. “Look, first off, this is a commodity just like corn. But there’s human input that happens through the vinification process that creates stylization. Then it becomes a piece of art, and an appreciable piece of art if it comes from a good maker, with good terroir, in a good year.”
But while a $36 million Jasper Johns painting may last for centuries, the value of wine has a limit. For starters, no one drinks the paint. “Wine is a living thing and always changing,” he explained. “All have their window. Every wine will have its slow rise to maturity, until it hits that point when it is absolutely perfect, and then, as Bordeaux vintner Francois Mitjavile says, it will slowly fall down in an elegant manner.”
That’s where Grassman’s expertise—he’s the caviste or cellar master of the local chapter of the international wine club, Commanderie de Bordeaux—comes in handy. He regularly consults with members about which wines should stay, which wines should go, and which vintage of Chateau Margeaux might be a good choice to open with a rib-eye this Saturday night.
Of the 30,000-odd bottles down here, many reflect not so much future fortune as a personal interest. “Collecting is an addictive thing,” Grassman said. “People think, ‘But I gotta get this next vintage. I’ve had the last 20 vintages of this maker!’”
There’s a social aspect to this cellar, too. “We have a rather disjointed wine world in the Twin Cities,” Grassman said. “There are these great collections all over town, but no one knows each other.” That’s one of the things that makes this basement unique. While there are other wine storage facilities around town, Wine Storage may be the only one with a gathering table, and a good dog for the petting.
“I’m working on getting an educator’s license next year, so that we can have tastings and classes down here,” he said.
Access to this room isn’t just for the super-rich. Members include local sommeliers and wine drinkers ranging from neophytes to those near pickled. The rate to store your wine is the same: $2.50 per case each month. But come with a box of Franzia White Zinfandel, and the discriminating dog may not let you in.