In approach of my 50th birthday last month, trepidation and anxiety was building in not wanting to lay claim to a half-century of age. Finally though, I embraced the notion that 50 ... is the new 50. Inspired by a philosophy that it's not what you drink but whom you drink it with that counts, I invited 50 or so of my best wine-drinking friends (and their children and dogs) to my Galisteo home for a casual celebration.

Santa Fe's own Alex Maryol and his three-piece blues band were hired to play on the south-facing patio under the stars. A simple, stand-up menu of curry shrimp, pesto pasta salad and grilled beef tenderloin was planned, the latter to be sliced and layered with Sage Bakery's Paisano rolls and horseradish cream.

Along with many of my closest friends and their children, my own personal Who's Who of Santa Fe food and wine aficionados would be attending, including cookbook author Deborah Madison; chef and Coyote Café founder Mark Miller; Eric Lamalle, owner of Ristra restaurant; Louis Moskow, chef and owner of The Railyard Restaurant and Saloon and 315; Erin Wade, owner of Vinaigrette; Dan Murray, president of Boutique wines; Philip de Give and John Grimm of Bacchus Wines; Laurent Gruet of Gruet Winery and wine connoisseurs Jack Johnson and John Cook. It was a thirsty and discerning crowd, so the only question that remained on this once-in-a-lifetime occasion was: What wine to serve?

Embracing the notion that bigger may not be better but can certainly be more dramatic, I rummaged around in the wine closet and pulled out seven of the largest bottles I had collected over the years: a Champagne, three Pinot Noirs, a Zinfandel, a Syrah and a Cabernet Sauvignon. All seven bottles were double-magnum formats — a crowd-pleasing container that holds the equivalent four regular-sized 750 ml bottles; an attention-getting 100 ounces each!

Since the volume of air to liquid is much smaller, wine in larger containers ages at a much slower pace than normal-sized bottles, so I was eager to serve and taste the seven wines not only for the dramatic element, but for observations on how the wines were evolving in the double magnums.

I decided to open the bottles in a specific sequence and one at a time so that each guest had a chance to taste each wine. As guests arrived to the garden door, they were greeted with a glass with a generous splash of Champagne from the three-liter Cuvée William Deutz, a gift from Laurent Gruet. From the stellar 1990 vintage, the Champagne Deutz was a marvelous wine with a pale straw color, a fine bubbly bead, a whiff of toasted brioche and a fresh and lively palate. And due to the size of the bottle, the Deutz was showing no signs of oxidative age — a lovely wine!

As the sun started to set and the band warmed up, the shrimp and Champagne were disappearing, so it was time to open the first of the three Pinot Noirs. I decided to open them in sequence of age, starting with the oldest, hoping to prove the evening's point that older is better.

Coming from one of my favorite Willamette Valley producers, the double magnum of Beaux Frères Pinot Noir 2000 was in perfect form. From the fruit-forward, easy drinking 2000 vintage in Oregon, the Beaux Frères was singing a harmonious melody from the glass. My wine-drinking buddies Jack and John, who have joined me on numerous occasions over the past few years at Beaux Frères' winery annual summer party, were duly impressed. This wine, too, in a smaller format, might have been moving on to secondary aromas in the bottle, but on this day in the larger format, the wine was still showing plenty of primary cherry fruit with a long, succulent finish.

In contrast, the wine we opened next — Domaine Serene Pinot Noir Jerusalem Hill 2003, from one of Oregon's hottest vintages on record — was showing much more tannin than the 2000 Beaux Frères. In addition to vintage variations, its unique character also was due to the difference in soil from the Beaux Frères' Ribbon Ridge AVA to the Domaine Serene's Dundee Hills soil. The Serene had the dusty red cherries and structure for a longer life ahead. I was surprised, assuming that the hotter vintage meant more ripeness and earlier aging, but recalled that Doug Tunnel of Brick House in Willamette Valley swears that the 2003 Pinot Noirs will be long agers.

I can readily detect vintage variations in Pinot Noir from Oregon, but I rarely see any vintage difference in California Pinot Noirs. Perhaps the weather is always so perfect in California that the wines are always of the same, even caliber. Anyhow, the Calera Pinot Noir Jensen Vineyard 2004 was a bright red wine of sappy fruits and medium-plus acidity that partnered perfectly with the grilled beef sandwiches and horseradish. Producing Pinot Noir in one of California's coolest climates, Josh Jensen of Calera admits that he picks every vintage of his Mt. Harlan Pinot Noirs very ripe, and adds the concomitant lost acid back. In the cooler Willamette Valley, producers always enjoy naturally bright acidity, and instead worry whether or not the fruit will ripen enough (which has not been an issue in Oregon since 1997).

Following the trio of Pinots, we moved on to the darker reds. Next up was the squat and round double magnum of Ridge Zinfandel Geyserville 1999. Not surprisingly, the seamless, bright and brambly fruit of the Geyserville — Ridge's best Northern Sonoma source for old-vine Zin — was an instant crowd pleaser, and many declared it their favorite wine of the night. I took it as a good sign that the party was progressing in an enjoyable manner. Ridge winemaker Paul Draper contends that Zinfandel is at it's bright, fruity and exuberant best at a youthful age, and when older, it can begin to taste like Bordeaux. In the large format, the Geyserville 1999 was showing particularly young on this night so I look forward to trying the same wine in a regular-sized bottle soon to see how it compares on the aging curve.

Rosemount Balmoral Syrah from McLaren Vale has never been associated with cheap Australian plonk (you will find no cute animal on its label). Australia, if you have been following the wine press, is in a crisis right now. Encouraged by wine-drinking countries abroad to produce as much inexpensive swill as they can this past decade, and with competition for lower price point wines from emerging regions in South America, industrialized Australian producers find themselves with a glut of wine they can't sell. From one of the most recognized sites for quality Syrah, the double magnum of 1992 Rosemount Balmoral was just beginning to show compelling secondary aromas of white pepper and roasted meat. It had a beautiful and elegant palate that particularly impressed Mark Miller. I reminded him that the wine was a gift from him when I left his Coyote Café in 1995 after four years of service. My how time flies!

Proof that vintage ratings should never be believed, the Robert Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve 1998 we opened as darkness descended was an incredibly precocious Bordeaux-style wine with pleasing nose and palate. Perhaps because much of the 1990s were so good to Napa Cabernet that the band-leading trumpeter needed to scold somebody, the Wine Specator declared the 1998 Napa Cabernets to be subpar when they were originally released. Not true.

The night was moving on, so we cut into a surprise birthday cake my friend Erin of Vinaigrette had thoughtfully prepared, bedecked with an illustration of one of my favorite wines, Conterno Fantino Sori Ginestra Barolo, so I was compelled to pull yet another bottle from the cellar, which I hope to do for many years to come.

Alex Maryol's band was lighting up the Galisteo Basin to match what some might rightfully argue to be the brightest view of the Milky Way on the planet, so I took to the dance floor with my two daughters and skipped into the night — barreling happily toward my next fifty.

Greg O'Byrne is executive director of the Santa Fe Wine & Chile Fiesta. His column appears in Taste on the third Wednesday of every month. Questions or comments? E-mail vinevents@aol.com.