Because I’m a lazy man, I’m tempted to simply say this: This is the most Burgundian pinot noir I’ve ever drunk from Oregon.
One, you’ll want to chill this wine down to 60 degrees or so. It’s not good at room temperature.
Two, you’ll want to give this a lot of air before even thinking about drinking some. Straight out of the bottle, it’s clumsy, chunky, and disappointing.
Three, the tannins are gentle, assertive, slight, dominant, stalky, ripe: in short, all over the map. They’re in wonderful balance with the fruit and oak.
Four, the wine smells wonderful. Soft cedar shavings, forest floor, wild strawberries, allspice, plums, and barbecue: they’re all here. This would be amazing with cedar plank salmon.
Five, the mouthfeel is similarly all over the map. Rich and mouthfilling? Sure, the vibrancy of the fruit suggests that, but it’s secretly leaner, trimmer, acidic, racy, daring. This is not a wine for the timid, not a wine for the lazy, not a wine you can drink without thinking about it. Every mouthful is wondrously complex; a thousand experiences unfurl before you. Drinking this is like opening an atlas: suddenly, you’re faced with – and overjoyed by – all of the possibilities open to you. The chalk cliffs of Dover, the quiet of the California redwood forest, the stark beauty of the Namib desert? It’s all there if you want to go; it’s all here if you want to taste.