Not as problematic as so many say it is. And it’s not so fragile, believe me! Recently, I’ve tasted Pinots that have the ardor and stature of something from the southern Rhône, or Bordeaux.. maybe not as heavy but just as much impression with the palate and universal impact and wine-weight. And if this is a true “opinion” page, then I have to say and be quite declarative with saying, “I’m angry for Pinot.” Why does it always have to be pegged as that wimpy, finicky, moody and fragile varietal? Why can’t it be regarded as something formidable? Something sturdy and strong, and proud? I feel that whenever Pinot is addressed it’s always with qualification, or stipulation. Why does Pinot have to be tip-toed around? What does the wine want? Pinot deserves more respect and consideration than this-- as a varietal of prominence and not a delicatessen eggshell skate.
And the Pinot tells me to back off. It can fight its own grapples and skirmishes. It teaches me more about is integrity and candid philosophy, interwoven emotionality. And you know, I’m doing Pinot a disservice by overanalyzing it as I am now, with this much thinking. It can fight its own fight, but here I am defending it.. why.. my own bias. And my editors and clients will scrutinize my openness but its only a product of my love for Pinot, what I’m sipping, and if you could see how much I’m deleting and editing you’d laugh.. this is an opinion, right? So do I get an opinion, my own, or should I type one that’s more marketable? Pinot would want truth, candor, the terrestrial tenacity of the wine’s compass. So that’s what I try to write, here at the home desk with my final glass. The glass, Pinot densifying, telling me not to overanalyze, to concentrate, to focus and treat Pinot as it out to be. To sip slower and concentrate and deconstruct its story and suggestive qualities; it’s a song and it’s a validated reflective edifice-- “You’re being too wordy,” readers will say. But that’s what Pinot does. It causes a break and divergence from normality. But I keep sipping and learn more, ti’s heralded lesson, Pinot, all around my receptive reductions, causing me to sit, sip, and just think. Not overcomplicate. Pinot can take care of itself. It doesn’t need a sales rep, or translator, it can very much provide its inherent position. This particular Pinot, with its dactylic disposition, has me thinking about the life I have ahead of me; family and writing, the novels and the compilation of manuscripts-- so what then, I think more, and that’s what Pinot Noir is, to me anyway.. a thought-provoker, one telling me to let the fascinations follow and compound and compile, and that I shouldn’t worry about anything at all. The wine is here, to soften the meteoric stamping of reality. Wine and me-- me in the wine, and the wine making me more ME, the Pinot, my new instructor. So I’m settled, more in Me, and my wine-woven pagination, consistency.