Alberico Boncompagni Ludovisi, the prince of Venosa, produced his last wonderful bottles of Fiorano, from his estate within the city limits of Rome, in 1995. That year, for reasons he did not explain, he tore out his vineyard. The prince died in 2005, and after years of legal wrangling, the estate was divided among his heirs, who replanted the vineyard. One day we’ll see whether the new wines bear any relation to the old.

Continuity is easier in some regions. In Bordeaux, for example, where so many chateaus are in the hands of corporations, it’s more a matter of replacing employees and carrying on. But Bordeaux is not always so corporate. Jean-François Fillastre, the proprietor of Domaine du Jaugaret, one of my favorite small Bordeaux estates, is 70 and has no heirs. I wonder what will happen to it.

If life were fair, René Engel would still be in the hands of the Engel family. Philippe Engel took over the estate in 1981 from his father, Pierre, who died young, and by all accounts Philippe transformed a good producer into a terrific one. But he, too, died young, of a heart attack at 49 in 2005. With no heirs, it was sold to François Pinault, the billionaire who also owns Château Latour, and is now called Domaine d’Eugénie and is still discovering its personality.

At the small Engel dinner at DBGB on the Bowery, we drank six bottles of grand cru Burgundy: Clos Vougeots from 1999, ’96, ’91 and ’90, and Grands Échézeauxs from ’99 and ’98. As a group, the wines were elegant, subtle and complex, yet with a touch of rusticity that seemed to give them individuality. The ’98 Grand Échézeaux especially stood out. It was beautifully calibrated and clear, spicy, floral and bursting with energy. The ‘99 Grand Échézeaux likewise showed great finesse, while the Clos Vougeots were richer and plumper, lovely but maybe not with the same sense of intricate detail.

We toasted the memory of Philippe Engel, and those who had known him told stories of this adventurous man who enjoyed boating, parties and traveling the world.

By contrast, Marius Gentaz never went far from his home in Ampuis. In many ways, his life had more in common with the 19th century than the 21st.