Pinot worthy of a French palate
By Lyn Farmer


When André Porcheret, one of Burgundy's most revered winemakers, retired in 1999 as Steward of the Hospices de Beaune, he did what many youngish retirees do: He became a consultant. Consulting winemakers can be choosy about their hours and their employers, an ideal scenario for someone easing into their golden years. His new role has proved revelatory in a way he could never have imagined during the decades he spent making Pinot Noir from the hallowed vineyards of the Côtes de Nuits and the Côtes de Beaune. Indeed, it appears the 54-year-old has only lately found what he's been looking for, and it isn't in Burgundy.

He recently shared his findings with a group of winemakers in a closed-door meeting where they compared notes and tasted each others wine. Up for discussion: How difficult Pinot Noir is to make; how hard to coax great color from the thin-skinned berries; how careful the winemaker must be to keep the tannins in check. According to a friend of mine who participated in the confab, Porcheret said he believed he and his colleagues were finally getting the hang of the finicky grape.

So what, you say? Well, for one thing, he was conversing with a covey of American winemakers, and for another, he went on to astound his colleagues by saying he thought the best Pinot Noir in the world was being made here, not in Burgundy. And while his words were spoken in English, I certainly hope he was heard in France.

I have purchased Burgundy for 20 years and almost invariably have been disappointed. When I was new to wine, I listened to more experienced tasters who raved about the delicacy, the finesse, the power and the subtlety of Pinot Noir. Sure, some of those descriptions are contradictory, but I sought out good labels and figured I just needed more tasting experience to detect such qualities. What I found, and continue to find in too many red Burgundies, is hard, stemmy and often green tannins, underripe fruit and flavors that tease but rarely satisfy.

More than with any other wine, quality in Burgundy varies wildly, making it a hedgy bet. Yes, there are great bottles out there, but from the dual standpoints of availability and affordability, securing those wines whose lineage carries a reliable guarantee of quality is difficult. Still, red Burgundy has earned its iconic status because when it is good, it is sublime beyond description. It's just that in my memory, it hasn't been that good often enough or reliably enough.

Immigrants established the American wine industry, so it's natural that Europe was held up as the paradigm. In the 1800s, an influx of Italians to Northern California led to the introduction of varieties such as sangiovese and barbera. Zinfandel reminded them of primitivo, so it, too, was planted by them. German immigrants, such as the Beringers, planted riesling. The few French who made it to the region, such as Georges de Latour, the founder of Beaulieu Vineyard, imported favored varieties from Bordeaux and Burgundy.

The winemaking template held up by these pioneering immigrants was strictly European, for that was all they then knew. Even if many of their customers couldn't tell Burgundy from grape juice, well, that didn't stop them from trying. And trying. And trying. There have been times when the pendulum has swung away from the European models, but there is no denying that France, and especially Burgundy, remains the symbolic brass ring.

"[Pinot Noir] is hard to make, it's a challenge," says Joel Aiken, the director of winemaking at Beaulieu Vineyard, where Pinot Noir has been bottled longer than at most California wineries. "We all wanted to make Pinot Noir, and the more difficulty we had, the harder we tried."

In 1984, Beringer winemaker Ed Sbragia stopped releasing Pinot Noir in what proved to be a ten-year Pinot hiatus. "The fruit just wouldn't cooperate," he says. There was a good reason: Like many grape varieties in Northern California, it was planted in the wrong place.

Ask any California winemaker what the single greatest modern-day winemaking discovery has been and you won't hear about cold stabilization or gentler pressing techniques; you'll hear about replanting, an expensive, laborious process that better matches variety to microclimate. It's a uniquely New World challenge; the Europeans have had centuries of trial and error to establish optimally sited vineyards.

What is changing in France, and specifically in Burgundy, is the standard of cleanliness in the cellar and the desire to highlight fruit as well as texture in the finished wine. For these imperatives, the Burgundians are taking their cues from California and Oregon, where Porcheret is spending a good deal of time.

He meets frequently with the winemakers at Beringer, where Sbragia has been crafting some very well-balanced, intensely flavored Pinot Noir over the last five years, thanks largely to suitable vineyard sites and gentler techniques in the winery. And, of course, to Porcheret.

In Oregon, Porcheret has come to the aid of winemakers such as highly regarded Pinot Noir specialist Ken Wright, who speaks with admiration of his advisor as he relates Porcheret's solution for taming new oak barrels: "The salt wash [he recommended] extracts the harshness and tannins of new oak without removing the sweetness that new oak can yield," Wright recounts. "Wines aged in new cooperage treated in this manner just seem to have a better integration of fruit and oak without the new oak becoming overbearing."

Ed Killian of Chateau Souverain is also a Porcheret client. "He's a dynamic winemaker who respects tradition but isn't hampered by it," Killian says. "He understands that fruit is important, but he emphasizes structure, too."

That emphasis translates as balance, which I find lacking in many Burgundies until they reach an advanced age. I'm simply not willing to wait ten years to find out if I purchased a good wine.

If you haven't been drinking Burgundy in recent years, scared off by the expense or disappointing experiences, it's high time to turn to American Pinot Noir.

In Oregon, Ken Wright is crafting elegant and fruity Pinots; Chehalem's Willamette Valley bottlings are noteworthy; and at Archery Summit, Anna Matzinger turns out wine with exceptional fruit that sacrifices none of pinot noir's sublime structure.

On California's Central Coast, Talley is making terrific Pinots, especially from Rosemary's Vineyard; the depth achieved in Au Bon Climat Pinots by Winemaker Jim Clendenen is practically unparalleled in Burgundy; then there are Ken Brown's exceptional efforts at Byron. In Northern California, Beringer's Stanley Ranch Napa Valley Pinots, Rochioli's Russian River Valley bottlings and Duckhorn's Goldeneye Pinot from the Anderson Valley lead the long list of successes.

When it comes to approachable, food-friendly wines that require no apologies, America has it all over Burgundy, at least until André Porcheret spends more time consulting for the French.


Article first published in The Wine News
 

Senior Editor Lyn Farmer is also the restaurant critic for the South Florida Sun-Sentinel.