Over the years I’ve admittedly made a few last minute substitutions when grabbing some wine to take to a party. While I’d never take plonk to a get-together, I wouldn’t bring Premier Cru Burgundy when simple French rosé would suffice either. I’m sure all of us have, at times, made just that same decision when confronted by similar circumstances for a variety of reasons. For some, it might be the thought that the wine in hand really needs a few more years in the cellar. While for others, it may be the realization that those attending the evening’s festivities aren’t really worthy of the elixir we’ve guarded so expectantly. Recently, I was reminded of this scenario while drinking Domaine Dujac’s 2001 Chambolle-Musigny. Four previous bottles had been drunk with little distinction (I gave my fifth to a friend for his birthday). I thought its fruit character simple and straightforward; I thought it showed too much new oak. Mind you, it was always pleasant and most noticeably well-made. It just never lived up to the billing for me. So with its drinking two weeks ago, my last bottle of Dujac served as much more than a delicious accompaniment to house-cured duck confit. It was a revealing reminder of a tenet I’d discovered a few years back, that nothing transforms wine quite like the company with which it’s enjoyed.

Dujac’s 2001 Chambolle-Musigny presented a deep garnet color of medium intensity with freshness enough remaining to suggest there’s more fruit herein for additional cellaring. Showing black cherry, blackberry, and violets to the nose, this wine’s perfume deepened over time to offer licorice and underbrush. I even detected the scent of sweet cured meat! And it nicely delivered a quality I find so compelling about good Burgundy: sinewy concentration in a relatively lean frame, too rare an achievement in New World pinot noir. Its balancing acidity, wrapped in red currant and cranberry flavors, maintained the wine’s freshness from one glass to the next. What distinguished this bottling as truly elegant for me was a persistent, chalky minerality that gave the wine’s dry finish considerable length. Overall, this village level wine is a pretty blend of bright and dark fruit character that’s punctuated by enough tertiary bouquet to captivate anyone who admires good Burgundy. In short, this wine was balanced and pure and a pleasure to drink.

So what stops us from opening our most treasured bottles? What holds us back? I have a hunch that oftentimes it’s more than our skepticism over whether a certain bottle is really ready to drink. Sure, Bordeaux can take decades to achieve its full potential, but even it can reward generously with a few years bottle age provided what’s on our dinner plate—and who’s sitting across the table—is intimately engaging. I reckon a properly cellared bottle of 1982 Cos d’Estournel would taste like nothing more than a properly cellared bottle if served with trite conversation and uninspired fare. So maybe our real obstacle isn’t time after all. Maybe we’re more attendant upon opportunity, that magical convergence of good food with treasured companionship, than we are to time’s passage in a bottle. From my experience getting that duo right is one of life’s bigger accomplishments, so I’m tickled that I’m now blessed with both. Recommended.

You don’t need to be the most observant shopper these days to notice “Organic Foods” prominently displayed at your local supermarket. Eggs from free-range hens, goat milk yogurt, grass-fed beef and every fruit and vegetable under the sun are now offered to you organically. So it should come as no surprise that organic wine has muscled its way onto grocery store shelves across the country too. Typically these wines are shelved not by their country of origin but rather with their organic brethren from near and far. Therefore, it’s not at all uncommon to discover a Chianti Classico couched beside some Sancerre that’s sandwiched between Lodi Zinfandel and New Zealand pinot noir. From my experience much of this wine flaunts its organic pedigree at the expense of real wine quality and I know few wine geeks that take this stuff seriously. For sure, many great wines are made organically but they rarely advertise themselves as being so, preferring to let the wine in the bottle and not the buzzword “organic” do the talking. So I was more than a little skeptical about a bottle of Willamette Valley pinot noir (found next to a white Bordeaux no less) that put its organic breeding front and center on its label but figured what harm could really be done for $13.99. I could always sauté organic mushrooms with the stuff if it wasn’t any good.

2000 Cooper Mountain Vineyards Pinot Noir was pale garnet showing some orange hues near the rim of the glass. At first reductive in odor (sulfur), with adequate aeration this pinot really shined aromatically. With its red currant, raspberry and strawberry nose the classic bright red fruits of pinot noir were here in good attendance. Sweet black cherry and a touch of compost filled this pinot’s palate while nuances of acacia, orange peel, mushroom and underbrush added considerable complexity. I was very impressed. The wine’s mouthfeel was leaner than most Oregon pinot noir, much to my liking, and it offered tart acidity, balanced alcohol and great length of finish. What I found so intriguing about this wine was its chameleon-like ability to show ever-changing flavors and shifting aromas over the course of its drinking. Without question it was excellent with dinner and I wish I had more.

If a wine bottle were a book then its label would be its front cover, its back-copy its sleeve. Upon which would you affix the phrase “Organically Grown Grapes”? Regrettably, I think Cooper Mountain Vineyards, though justifiably proud, over-share with their packaging and as a result are pigeonholed by retailer and consumer alike. Most wine drinkers I know care most about wine quality and less about the how’s and why’s of its production. Yet, from my observation those who exclusively buy organic products frequently do so with a disregard for quality. Their purchasing decisions seem most strongly influenced by “organic” being emblazoned on a label. Yes, many excellent foodstuffs are today produced organically but I haven’t found too many wines solely marketed as such to be very satisfying. That Cooper Mountain Vineyards produces wine of such high quality that is marketed as being organic first and foremost makes this bottle of Willamette Valley pinot noir all the more exceptional. Highly recommended and an overachiever at its price.

Anyone who’s gambled their money away on expensive bottles of Burgundy eventually discovers the charms of Côte Chalonnaise, Côte d’Or’s less prestigious neighbor to the south. On more than a few occasions I’ve returned a coveted Chambolle Musigny to a wine shop shelf in favor of a lowly Mercurey or Givry and been all the happier for having done so. True, these value appellations don’t have the cachet of Volnay or Gevrey Chambertin, but with their purchase enough good money should remain for bread, cheese and a whole chicken for roasting. Try as I might, man can’t live on wine alone! So, with respect for my wallet and good dinner in mind I bought this bottle of “Clos La Marche”, a monopole from Mercurey produced by Domaine Louis Max. Distinctively packaged and affordably priced, I was hoping I’d discovered a new house wine for Chez Marcy.

Brilliantly clear, Domaine Louis Max’s 2002 Mercurey was pale raspberry red in color. This pinot offered light raspberry, earth and leaf to the nose and was very light in fruit extract. Unfortunately, I found it to be thin, somewhat watery and lacking weight and texture in the mouth. This wine was most appealing when paired with food however. Light and nicely balanced, this wine didn’t overpower my meal and was refreshing from sip to sip with pleasant red fruit sweetness accentuated by the addition of food. For sure, this Mercurey wasn’t thought provoking pinot noir but was serviceable all the same. It wasn’t “food wine” as much as wine that NEEDED food to be enjoyed at all. Certainly there are many pinots more interesting and equally adept at flattering a simple meal, but “Clos La Marche” did serve food well and should work wonders with cheese given its low tannin and lightness of style.

Yet, what I find most dissatisfying about this simple Burgundy is the use of the word “monopole” on its creative label. I’ve always understood the term to denote a vineyard both farmed and owned by its managing domaine. What a pity for Louis Max if this simple Mercurey is as good as it gets for their prized monopole “Clos La Marche”. One can only wonder if this wine is made from juice declassified from that site and if Domaine Louis Max is favoring a bigger, more interesting selection of “Clos La Marche” under a different bottling. If true, isn’t that a little underhanded? It leaves me scratching my head uncertain of their marketing motivations and questioning their reputation. I love food friendly wine as much as the next pinotphile but to offer a vineyard designated wine that drinks no better than decent Bourgogne Rouge is ignorant at best and disingenuous at worst. Not recommended.

A visit to Northeast Ohio won’t provide your typical wine drinker with a whole lot of satisfaction. Palatial wineries, gourmet restaurants and boutique shopping à la St. Helena aren’t part of this region’s featured attractions. In fact, the Napa Valley “experience” that gets a casual wine enthusiast to hop on a plane for the weekend, knock back some big ticket cabernet and have some friend take their picture while they pose in front of Groth, Opus and Cakebread is completely absent here. In many ways, I wonder if visiting the Grand River Valley today will prove to be as prophetic an experience as what wandering about the Willamette Valley must have been in the middle 1970’s. On a cold winter’s day you might be warming your hands over a space heater as you talk excitedly with winery owners, people whose daily “to-do” list includes growing grapes, making wine and entertaining tourists, many of whom still thirst for sweet local hybrids like vidal blanc and pink catawba. These are folks that wear many hats throughout their day and all for the seemingly thankless pursuit of producing world class wine in an increasingly abandoned corner of the country.

I first met Doreen Pietrzyk on a cold and snowy winter afternoon during Christmas of 2004. She was kind enough to open their modest tasting room set behind their home, pull some corks so that I might try their wine and share a good couple of hours with a perfect stranger. My most recent visit this past Christmas was made all the more pleasant by Art’s addition to the scene. He was sweeping the floor as we walked in, having just stoked the wood stove in the corner of the frigid tasting room, and quickly set me at ease with his smart wit and wry smile. After sampling various vintages of their estate grown wines, including some exciting pinot noir, I was again struck by the seriousness with which Art and Doreen approach their craft. It’s this kind of focused determination that paid off big in Oregon.

Saint Joseph’s 2003 Reserve Pinot Noir was a brilliant garnet, plum red color in the glass. At first a bit tight, it showed very interesting gauze and underbrush aromas after some much needed aeration. Additionally, great woodsy and dark fruit scents like black cherry, plum and blackberry were here showcased to good effect; this pinot noir was very appealing to the nose. However, I did find the degree of new oak here used, albeit of very high quality, to be a bit too much for my liking (other drinkers will certainly disagree). This wine’s mouthfeel, supple and with fine tannin, was beautifully rich and densely stuffed with sweet cherry flavor. The wine was equally impressive for its long and lingering finish. This pinot noir from Thompson, Ohio has the concentration of fruit, balance of palate and aromatic appeal to benefit dramatically from additional bottle age. With balance and stuffing such as this, three to five more years in the cellar should flatter this good wine. Saint Joseph’s 2003 Reserve is serious, complete and satisfying pinot noir.

I grew up in Northeast Ohio and moved away nearly ten years ago. Yet, the place you’re from is kind of like your family: you carry it with you all your years and it shapes you in important ways. While Northeast Ohio is no Napa or Sonoma or Willamette Valley, a few of the region’s wineries are now proving that this post-industrial pocket of America can achieve remarkable results when determination meets passion and integrity. Saint Joseph Vineyard doesn’t make good “Ohio wine” but rather crafts seriously good pinot noir with Old World inspiration. Sadly, with the drinking of this 2003 Reserve, my last bottle, comes the realization that I’ll have to wait until next Christmas to enjoy more. Talking shop in winter’s frosty air, I’ll again share good pinot noir with Art and Doreen as we warm our hands over the wood stove in the tasting room set behind their home. Highly recommended!

I heard some terribly upsetting news a couple of weeks ago. At first I questioned its source, thinking my informant confused by a malicious rumor possibly overheard from some misinformed third party; he couldn’t have all the facts I hoped. Yet, just last week I heard the same sad words again. I’ve had to come to terms with what I now know to be true: Calera’s El Niño Pinot Noir is being “retired” as soon as the current vintage sells through. I even remember where I was when I first heard those unsettling words. This is sad news for us all. I’ve tried not be spiteful or petty or bitter but it’s hard and I’m looking for someone to blame. Why would Josh Jensen de-list a wine that has stood as THE benchmark for inexpensive and reliable California pinot noir? Granted, I’ve never been invited to take a peek at Calera’s balance sheet but this is simply too hard for me to stomach. What pinot am I to drink now on the cheap, Echelon? Give me a break Josh Jensen.

Calera’s 2002 El Niño was brilliantly clear and a lightly fading raspberry-red color in the glass. While sweet red fruits like cherry and raspberry fill the nose here, this wine presents pinot fruit that’s fresh and pure in quality. It offers light leaf, orange rind and an aromatic purity that will maintain your interest and not overwhelm. Made with little oak, this pinot noir showcases delicate red fruit flavors in a lightly extracted style. El Niño is slightly sappy, light-to-medium in weight, and finishes with good length and enough acidity to carry you through dinner. El Niño has always been bright and focused, pure and simple California pinot noir. This bottle was no exception.

I’ve always enjoyed Calera’s pinots (as I sit and write these words more than a few good bottles lay close by), but I don’t really have the splash for the Mills, Selleck and Jensen single vineyards. While I will splurge on occasion and live a little large, it was the El Niño and Central Coast bottlings that most frequently received my monetary affections. That I found El Niño’s 2002 vintage to be one of its best makes this goodbye all the more tearful. You will be sorely missed. Highly recommended!

When I spent the better part of a day last summer visiting Finger Lakes wineries I had done my research. Days prior to departing my New Hampshire home, I surfed on-line and made a “wish-list” of wineries I needed to see. Standing Stone Vineyards was one of about seven wineries visited that one day and, as it provided the backdrop to a pleasant afternoon, it quickly became the highlight of that summer weekend getaway. Meeting Marti Macinski, one of the winery’s owners, served only to make this stop all the more special. Being a convivial ambassador for the region’s wines, her spirit and enthusiasm were infectious (she shares the same hopeful vision I found at other vinifera producers in this region). Pearched high above the eastern shore of Lake Seneca, visitors here are immediately struck by expansive views of vines, fields and shimmering blue water below. At the far end of their friendly tasting room, set in a converted barn with vaulted ceilings, sits the deck that we found so inviting on that sunny August day. Where better to enjoy a good bottle of riesling, some Hudson Valley sheep milk cheese and leisurely admire the sweeping view?

Standing Stone’s 2003 Pinot Noir was a brickish, amber-red color in the glass. The wine looked like it could have seen nearly 10 years of bottle age! To the nose, this pinot showed dried fruits such as cranberry, cherry and orange peel that were candied in character. When tasted, I found its fruit to have a “sweet & sour” quality. Sour cherry and cranberry flavors were infused with balsamic vinegar sweetness. Sadly, this pinot noir was beset by volatile acidity. Although this pinot’s moderate alcohol level helped mitigate the effects of the VA (with higher alcohol content it would have been even more conspicuous), it was, unfortunately, very difficult to enjoy this wine. Obviously this wine was problematic in both appearance and flavor, and while this could have certainly been caused by an “off” bottle, I do remember this wine showing similar oxidized color and flavor when tasted at the winery last summer.

First impressions, be they correct or not, are nearly always lasting. I had a great time at Standing Stone Vineyards when I visited last summer, finding most of their wines consistently high in quality and among the better ones I enjoyed that August weekend. Their dry riesling was as excellent as their hospitality was generous. The next time I’m bound for Hector, New York I’ll stop back for sure. Regrettably, their 2003 pinot noir didn’t show very well. Perhaps I should just chalk-it-up to having the odd “off” bottle, and I do hope that’s the case, but I sense that something went awry in the production and/or packaging of this wine. Roll the dice if you like with this vintage, but I think you’d be better served by their crisp and quenching riesling. It goes great with Old Chatham Sheepherding cheeses!

Any lover of Napa Valley cabernet can tell you: mountain-grown fruit is a very good thing. With its rich tannin and black currant concentration, cabernet sauvignon from the slopes of Diamond, Howell or Spring Mountains is indeed pretty special. Be it the better drainage and poor, thin soils, or the longer growing season provided by these cooler elevations, mountain-grown fruit can yield intense satisfaction, satisfaction that comes, oftentimes, at equally intense prices. It’s this sort of density and concentration that many pinot growers and winemakers now desire and why, increasingly, pinot noir is being planted in the more marginal climes found in the Santa Rita Hills, Edna Valley and the “true” Sonoma Coast. You see, pinot noir is fast moving to the hills and frequently with stunning results.

Turjanis Steiner Vineyard Pinot Noir was a deep and nearly opaque plum-red color in the glass. Brimming with black cherry, plum, currant and blackberry, this Sonoma Mountain pinot noir was densely stuffed with flavors of dark fruits. Thankfully, this rich fruit avoided being overripe in quality. It was spicy with black pepper, graphite and leather, and finished with slate-like minerality. The bold oak here used left an indelible impression on the senses, but contributed its signature vanilla and cedar-box scent to good effect. While I found its texture sappy and rich in fruit tannin, it lacked the acidity I think required to balance such a full frame. Turjanis Pinot Noir was a mouthful of wine!

While Steiner Vineyard was extraordinary in many respects, it wasn’t subtle pinot noir and not of the style I reach for on a regular basis (especially given its substantial price). Although I found its massive weight and alcohol to be fatiguing during dinner, I did enjoy it all the same, and just like those rich cabernets from misty Napa hillsides, I think it will benefit dramatically from additional bottle age. If you pick up a bottle or two and have the patience, waiting five to seven years just might do the trick. Sonoma Mountain has been the source of other richly flavored pinots I’ve enjoyed in the past and this bottle of Turjanis proved no exception. It’s crafted like a Jackson Pollock canvas: broad and heavy with oil, boldly painted by a commanding stroke. Recommended.

They say imitation is the ultimate form of flattery. I’m reminded of that old cliché every time a new-label of Oregon pinot noir is debuted. Yes, Willamette Valley’s pinot pioneers have indeed inspired many. Sometimes I do chance it and take home a bottle unknown and untested, and while this occasionally yields exciting results, more often than not I’m only poorer for the experience. So I must have been gun-shy a couple of weeks back when I bought this bottle of Adelsheim. You see, Adelsheim isn’t new or flashy or hip. It’s decidedly old school like a jazz standard that gets played again and again and again. Yet, somehow I never tire of listening to “Autumn Leaves” or “Love for Sale” regardless of how often they’re played. It seems that good wine, like good music, never loses its buoyancy.

Adelsheim’s 2004 Willamette Valley Pinot Noir showed a plum red in the glass with light to medium color concentration. Soft qualities of raspberry and cherry fruit were subtle beneath layers of light oak, forest-floor and truffle. While pure, bright fruit flavors were evident in both the wine’s nose and palate, this pinot will never be mistaken for a fruit-driven wine. It showcases wonderful earthy character with style (think morel and porcini mushrooms) and is far too nuanced to be defined by red and black fruit flavors alone. Yet, this Oregon pinot noir wasn’t “dirty” in any way. Far from it: it was pure and clean while remaining very interesting. Texturally, this pinot was silky, not plush nor full, but finely balanced with adequate weight, dusty tannins and a supple mouthfeel. Its drinker will be rewarded by a very long and satisfying finish.

Being elegant and deliciously subtle, Adelsheim Pinot Noir will appeal to the purist, and like an old Blue Note recording should provide pleasure for many years to come. Highly recommended!

One of the interesting things about pinot noir, and all good wine for that matter, is the wide diversity of people and places that contribute to its variety. How many of us have ever looked longingly at a treasured bottle of pinot and wondered aloud about its shadowy origin? Certainly, countless villages, farms and fields the world over are host to the spectacle of harvest. Few are lucky enough to survey this expanse in the flesh, so most, like me, must resign themselves to colored pictures in oversized wine books and glossy magazines. But this too has its pleasure for here lives the intersection of ignorance and curiosity. I’ll explain. I’ve been to Napa Valley on a few occasions and prior to my first visit I excitedly turned the pages of more than a few guidebooks extolling the greatness of her many wineries, restaurants and wines; I was ignorant AND curious about her pleasures. Now, all the wiser for our introduction, I have little curiosity in her fineries. I don’t look at Napa Valley guidebooks much anymore.

I’ve never been to Tasmania, however, so for me there are so many possibilities. Tasmania seems isolated and extreme, a ruggedly beautiful place home to few people and even fewer good roads. Not isolated in the “you can’t get there from here” sense, but in a more dogmatic sort of way. The sort of place where islanders might have a “locals only” type of handshake known only to those native born. That way, store clerks would quickly realize when they’re confronted by some stupid foreigner of ill-breeding. Maybe in Tasmania outstretching your hand is even a dangerous thing to do, akin to saying something really insulting about an American city’s football team to some local fans in a bar. It just might get you a black eye and a cold, hard bunk back to mainland Australia aboard a dingy cargo ship. Basically, a strong dose of knowledge closes the door on certain possibilities, and when you’ve never been to a place almost anything seems likely.

In color, Ninth Island Pinot Noir was strawberry-red, brilliantly clear and showed medium concentration. This Australian pinot noir was decidedly red in fruit character, offering tart flavors of raspberries and cranberries, and was deepened aromatically by subtle scents of acacia, menthol and orange peel. Never lacking for acidity, this cool-climate pinot noir was chalky in texture, slightly tannic and somewhat astringent in its short finish. Happily absent, however, were big oak, high alcohol and flabby texture. Although this is not silky, dense or nuanced wine, Ninth Island is true and straightforward pinot noir perfectly suited to the dinner table.

Yet, for nearly $20.00 a bottle shouldn’t more complete and satisfying wine be expected? With so many good pinots crowding the shelves in this price range, from Oregon and Burgundy alike, it’s hard NOT to stumble upon more interesting and exciting wine. Plainly stated: simply being food-friendly isn’t good enough for pinot at this price-point! It’s the under $15 tier that poses a real challenge for pinotphiles seeking hard-to-find values, and it’s where this bottle of wine would be in more suitable digs. There, Ninth Island Pinot Noir would enjoy real star-status and be better positioned to hitch a ride home for a decent weeknight meal. As priced: not recommended.

While France may indeed have her La Tâche and Romanée Conti, it must be acknowledged that she was the first to enjoy a powerful advantage: time was in her favor. Generations of experience and invaluable insight were collected during more than a few seasons tending and pruning and hobbling about the vines of Clos de Vougeot. Here, New World vineyards are planted by dreamers, brows furrowed with hope, and most only within the last two or three generations. Here, growers survey new sites daily as they search for that synergy of skill and sunshine, budwood and sweat that culminate in a great glass of pinot. I sense Joseph Swan was just that sort of man: singular, visionary and hopeful.

Joseph Swan’s 2001 Pinot Noir was deep and transparent plum-red in the glass. With aromas of red raspberry, black cherry and currant, the palate is pleased with both high-toned, bright fruit flavors and darker, more brooding textures. This wine was finely balanced between bright and dark fruits presenting a mouthfeel rich with lean muscularity. With its contribution of cedar, vanilla and Asian spice (clove and coriander?), oak plays an active role in this wine’s impression on the palate. Yet, never was this overdone or out of place: this pinot provides fruit with weight and power enough to buttress such good oak! Powerful and aromatically engaging, this Russian River Valley pinot noir drank lean with medium texture, finishing long and deliciously dry. This was remarkably satisfying wine.

In short, Swan’s Trenton Estate Vineyard is serious pinot noir worthy of a cellar and pinot that encourages confidence that more of America’s great vineyards will surely be discovered in due time. Highly recommended!