Pinot Noir

Although mainstream and rightly counted among the so called noble varieties, Pinot Noir remains one of the most divisive grapes in the winemakers armoury. It is capable of producing some of the greatest wines on earth, yet it leaves plenty of consumers wondering, after a disappointing glass, what on earth the fuss is about.

To my mind, that sceptical response usually comes down to one of two things.

First, style. Pinot is a thin skinned variety that rewards restraint and penalises heavy handedness. If someone’s palate leans towards brawny Malbec or Napa Cabernet, no amount of pleading will make Pinot feel comparable. It is simply built differently. More Bach than Led Zeppelin.

Second, inconsistency. Pinot Noir is a nuisance to grow and a headache to vinify, particularly when weather patterns are less than obliging. Give it too much heat and it becomes jammy, obvious, and short on complexity. Give it too little and it can turn green, dilute, and rather joyless. The margin between transcendence and mediocrity is, to put it bluntly, narrow enough to make an accountant sweat.

This is, incidentally, where wine merchants earn their crust. There are, regrettably, so many poor examples of Pinot Noir that buying blind can feel like an exercise in self-punishment. It is not uncommon to wade through five underwhelming bottles before finding one that ticks the box. More than with most grapes, Pinot is a variety where it pays to follow producers you trust, and to stick with the hands that have proved they can coax something meaningful from it.

Yet when Pinot Noir is done well, there is nothing quite like it. It offers perfume rather than punch: red cherries, wild strawberries, rose petals and that curious, haunting note the French call ‘sous bois’, which sounds romantic because it is. The best examples have a silken texture that somehow still feels energetic, with tannins that behave like well-trained Labradors: present, helpful, never aggressive.

Burgundy remains the reference point, of course, from the suave transparency of Volnay to the muscular nobility of Gevrey-Chambertin, and the scented joy of Chambolle-Musigny. But it is no longer Burgundy or bust. In the right hands, Oregon can deliver Pinot with real poise and clarity. New Zealand, particularly Central Otago and Martinborough, offers vivid fruit and a pleasingly savoury edge. Germany’s Spätburgunder can be startlingly refined and has a really loyal following, and England, still in its youth with the variety, is beginning to find a cool climate voice that produces some delightful examples, but careful selection is especially necessary.

Pinot Noir is not the grape for those who want certainty. It is for those who value nuance: wines that speak in sentences rather than shouting slogans. Yes, it can be expensive, fickle, and occasionally infuriating. But then, so are most of the things worth pursuing.