A native Burgundian with a family heritage of winemaking that goes back to the 17th century, Vincent Girardin began his career in 1982 with two hectares — about 5.15 acres — of vines. The domaine now encompasses more than 25 hectares — about 65 acres — in 60 appellations that stretch from the top to the bottom of Burgundy.

The white wines see about 40 percent new oak; they age about 11 months for village and regional wines, 13 months for Premier and Grand Cru. The reds take 30 to 50 percent new oak, aging from 15 to 18 months.

The domaine produces 46,000 cases of wine annually, most of it in small if not minute quantities from Premier Cru and Grand Cru vineyards. The range can be bewildering: 10 separate wines from Santenay, 10 separate wines from Puligny-Montrachet and so on. The 14 products I look at today, all from 2007, obviously don’t begin to indicate the depth and breadth of Vincent Girardin’s roster. Prices are approximate.

The wines of Vincent Girardin are imported to the United States by Vineyard Brands, Birmingham, Ala.

These are my notes from a trade tasting in New York.
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Three whites:
<>Bourgogne Blanc “Emotion de Terroirs” 2007. Enticing, seductive; gravel and flint with white flowers, yellow citrus and stone fruit; sinew and bone, ringing acidity; just a little lush and sleek. A lovely chardonnay. Very Good+. About $23.

<>Rully Vieilles Vignes 2007. Good depth, quite dusty and minerally in the limestone mode; very dry, austere, needs a year or two to unfurl. Very Good. About $25.

<>Savigny-les-Beaunes “Les Vermots Dessus” 2007. Beguiling, entrancing; apple
and apple blossom, jasmine, flint; fleet and sinewy acidity balanced with tremendous body; fat and sassy but crisp, fraught with limestone; vibrant and resonant. A beauty. Excellent. About $28.50. If I were compiling a restaurant wine list, this would definitely be featured by bottle and glass.

The reds
<>Bourgogne Rouge “Emotions de Terroir” 2007. Simple, direct, tasty, cherry/berry fruit, touches of earth and minerals. Attractive but lacks the dimension of the white version. Very Good. About $24

<>Santenay “Terre d’Enfance” 2007. Impressive, lovely, eminently drinkable; red currants and rose petals buoyed by a chalky/minerally aspect; taut acid but seductive satiny texture; loads of personality and integrity. Very Good+. About $28.

<>Santenay “Les Gravieres” Premier Cru 2007. Earthy, mossy, chalk and crushed gravel; red currant, black cherry and mulberry; some wild, exotic spicy note; dense, chewy and intense. Needs 1 or 2 years but delicious now. Very Good+. About $36.50.

<>Savigny-les-Beaune “Les Vergelesses” Premier Cru 2007. Deep, large-framed, concentrated; very dry, gravelly and austere; a brooding contention of acid and tannin that keeps fruit in abeyance. Try from 2011 or ‘12. Very Good+, for potential. About $36.50.

<>Beaune “Les Bressandes” Premier Cru Vieilles Vignes 2007. Seductive aromas of red and black currants, potpourri, crushed gravel, rose petal, hint of mocha; solid and true, with good dimension and depth, but not exciting, lacks the ultimate generosity of a complete wine. Very Good+. About $42.

<>Volnay Vieilles Vignes 2007. A great pinot noir; damp earth and chalk, tar and leather; red currants and black cherries, briers and brambles; dry, earthy, sinewy, acidity plows a furrow through a dense satiny texture; an exciting wine, filled with confidence and verve. Drink through 2017 or ‘18. Excellent. About $42.

<>Gevrey-Chambertin Vieilles Vignes 2007. Wow, a massive pinot noir. Leather, violets, wheatmeal; piercing minerality; a little fleshy and meaty, freighted with spice; dried red and black currants; overwhelmingly satiny texture; mid-palate back brings increasingly dry, rooty tannins; finish is dry, austere, distant. Try from 2011 or ‘12 through 2017 to ‘19. Excellent. About $46.

<>Volnay-Santenots Premier Cru 2007. Another great pinot; quite large, resonant and resolute, tremendously earthy, intense and concentrated; vibrant acid cuts a swathe but the wine is rich, spicy, supple, almost succulent (but not Californian); the finish, though, brings in dry tannins, an autumnal austerity. Try from 2011 through 2017 to ‘19. Excellent. About $53.

<>Pommard-Les Grand Epenots Premier Cru Vieilles Vignes 2007. Closed, deliberate, secretive; quite dark, roiling with woody spice; very dense, very chewy; bales of briers and brambles, everything foresty and underbrushy; dry, granite-like earthiness, the power of geological patience. This emits the aura of greatness, but it has miles to sleep before it goes. Excellent potential, 2012 or ‘13 through 2018 or ‘20. About $68.

<>Corton Renardes Grand Cru Vieilles Vignes 2007. True, strong, pure and intense; concentrated yet generous, earthy, autumnal, feral; beguiling yet serious; eloquent expression of the mineral dimension; tremendous tone and presence. A great achievement. Best from 2012 or ‘14 through 2018 or ‘20. Exceptional. About $70.

<>Charmes-Chambertin Grand Cru 2007. What’s to say? A monumental Charmes-Chambertin, very earthy, very tannic, mineral-laden, rooty, briery and brambly, a slumbering giant needing four or five years to unfold and then a 15 to 20-year life ahead. Excellent potential, but time is essential. About $125.

There’s a sense — or possibly several but never mind that now — that I live in a different world than many of my readers do, and that’s because I receive wine samples for free. Many of these are unsolicited; the friendly UPS or FedEx person comes to the door and hands over a package or two and I sign for them and bring them inside and open them, and sometimes I think, “Oh, great, this will be interesting” or “Oh, yikes, wow” or “Geeze, why do they send me this crap.” Much of it comes after inquiry. Them: “May we send you such-and-such wine?” Me: “Why, yes, thank you very much.” Some I ask for a sample. Me: “Would you send me this wine to try?” Them: “Hell, yeah.” I’m certain there are writers and publications that receive far more wine than I do, but I probably receive more wine than writers and bloggers just starting out. After all, I’ve been doing this for 25 years.

Some wineries and importers have been sending me wine for 15 or 20 years, a process that allows consistency in my coverage and reviewing. And some wineries and importers stopped sending wine when my weekly newspaper column folded in 2004 and never picked up again. C’est la vie.

I mention these matters in an attempt to prove that when I drink a glass of the Morgan Double L Vineyard Pinot Noir 2007, Santa Lucia Highlands ($48), with my cheese toast, as I did yesterday at lunch, I’m not trying to be a jerk and imply, “Ha-ha, loser, see what I get to drink with my cheese toast and you don’t.” I mean, the wine is there, it needs to be tasted, there’s an opportunity, so why not? Sure, the pleasure principle is a factor too, as in, “Hmmm, maybe I should open this skimpy, undernourished little $6 merlot with my cheese toast instead of the Morgan Double L Pinot ‘07,” and then I say, “Nnnnaaaahhhhh.” After all, I can always do the SULM in a line-up with a bunch of other inexpensive reds, n’est-ce pas?

On the other hand, perhaps none of this requires any explanation or justification whatsoever.

Allons.

The Morgan Double L Vineyard Pinot Noir 2007, Santa Lucia Highlands, is absolutely beautiful, a smooth, shapely, harmonious mouthful of wine. Aromas of smoky black cherry and cola twine with mulberry, rhubarb and hints of cloves and mossy-like earthiness; a few minutes in the glass bring whiffs of violets and camellia. In the mouth, the wine performs as a model of the marriage between elegance and power; between balance and integration, on the one hand, and buffed tannins and vibrant acidity on the other. Flavors of black cherry, black currant and plum burgeon with spicy nuances, laid on a foundation of rooty briers and brambles and a texture that drapes the palate like satin. The subtle oak regimen is 11 months in French barrels, 50 percent of which are new. Double L is farmed organically. Drink now through 2013 or ‘14. Production was 1,050 cases. Excellent. About $48.

Last night, LL braised ox-tails with bacon and a smoked ham hock, a bottle of merlot and a bouquet of celery, carrots, leeks, sage and parsley. This cooked in the oven for, oh, four hours. She served it with a mash of celery root, sweet potatoes and white potatoes. It was brilliant.

Casting about for a wine, naturally I thought about syrah/shiraz or zinfandel, but then I decided to throw discretion and even sense to the winds, and I opened a bottle of Joseph Drouhin Clos de Vougeot Grand Cru 2007. If ever a red Burgundy could stand up to such a hearty dish, this would be it.

At about 125 acres, Vougeot is the largest vineyard in Burgundy, It is also the most minutely parceled, its area divided among 70 owners, some of whom have proprietorship over only a few rows of vines; this is pinot noir, of course. The firm of Joseph Drouhin owns two parcels that amount to 2.25 acres. Placement is everything in Vougeot; vines at the bottom of the hill do not produce wine as good as vines higher up the slope. Drouhin’s parcels are on the incline, facing east. The parcels are farmed according to biodynamic principles (though how do you compensate for the people around you that don’t farm by the same method?); harvesting is by hand; yeasts are indigenous. The wine rests is oak 14 to 18 months, depending on the year, but typically only 20 percent of the barrels are new.

Drouhin’s Clos de Vougeot Grand Cru 2007 is a beautiful wine, too, but in a different way. This is the beauty of confidence balanced between poise and assertiveness. It’s a wine that could swagger if it wanted to but clearly doesn’t need to. In fact, beyond this wine’s warmth and richness, beyond its layers of spiced and macerated black cherries and plums grounded in dried spice, shale-like minerality and acidity that plows an authoritative furrow, there’s a sense of reticence, of holding itself back for the proper moment. The elements of dried spice, tending a bit toward the exotic, blossom amazingly in the glass, pulling black fruit with them, turning increasingly seductive; at the same time, however, the wine becomes drier, picking up sinew and dusty tannic austerity. Try this from 2011 or ‘13 through 2017 or ‘20. Sixty cases were imported to the U.S. Excellent. About $172.

Wow, you’re saying, if both of these wines rate Excellent, why not just forget about the Clos de Vougeot ‘07 and go with the Morgan Double L? Well, sure. Let’s admit that not many people possess the fiduciary prowess to buy the Clos de Vougeot or the cellar in which to let it mature. On the other hand, the two wines offer quite different but equally eloquent and authentic expressions of the grape. You pays yer money and you takes yer choice. I’m lucky enough that I was able to try both of them on the same day and to tell you about them.

My constant reader and responder-to-posts Thomas Pellechia, author of the blog vinofictions, had a reasonable point when he said to me, in an email, after I described, on Oct. 23, a $45 bottle of Elodian Pinot Noir that I sampled with a plate of cheese toast:

The post popped a thought into my head. I wondered first whether this was a bottle that you were sent or that you bought for at-home dining.

The reason I wondered: if wine writers are trying to reach the general audience and not the geek, your cheese toast with a $45 Pinot Noir might seem rather extravagant (to the audience). If that is the case, then I further wonder what exactly are we saying to the general audience that likely can’t afford a $45 wine just to have each night with dinner, let alone with toast!

Well, ahem, I suppose (I answered) that part of it has to do with the element of surprise, of extravagance, even of theater, in the sense that I don’t mind if people think, “That F.K., what a goof-ball, opened a $45 pinot noir with his cheese toast!” Yeah, I’ll do pretty much anything, verbally and conceptually, for a laugh, for a bit of attention, to keep — and this is the motivation — people coming back to BTYH.

Of course most of the wine I write about comes to me as samples, so, perhaps unfairly, I do have the ability to snatch a $45 wine from the rack to open with my cheese toast or roast chicken or whatever. Such wines exist, and I don’t think they should be ignored just because they’re expensive.

I also provide reviews of inexpensive wines, as in the Wine of the Week (rarely over $20) and in, for example, the post called “12 Under $20: White” that went up on Nov. 8. It’s probably not a good idea to try to be all things to all people, or the general all-purpose wine-writer and reviewer, but there it is.

Just to make amends, however, yesterday I made some cheese toast for my lunch, and before I reached for a wine to open, I thought, “Careful now, let’s be fair to The Readers.” So I opened a bottle of Redtree Pinot Noir 2008, California, which cost me — yes, my own hard-earned cash –the princely sum of $9. And you know what? Not only was it a pleasant and drinkable little wine, it actually displayed hints of real pinot noir character, in the form of smoky black cherry scents and flavors, plums with a hint of cola, subtle touches of spicy cranberry and rhubarb and a bit of clean earthiness; it even offers some pinot noir satiny sleekness for texture. The alcohol level — 12.5 percent — makes no demands. I rate the Redtree Pinot Noir ‘08, a product of Cecchetti Wine Co., Very Good. At about $9, it represents Good Value, though you see it around the country as low as $6.50.

See, I’m not always “Mr. Forty-Five-Dollar Man.”

With a roasted chicken, I want a classic pinot noir — lithe, sinewy, elegant, discreet — and I got what I wanted with the Rossi Wallace Pinot Noir 2007, Napa Valley. As I mentioned in my review of the Rossi Wallace Chardonnay at the beginning of this month, the owners and winemakers here are Napa Valley veterans (and married couple) Ric Forman and Cheryl Emmolo.

The color of the Rossi Wallace Pinot Noir 07 is a limpid medium ruby with a touch of magenta; the bouquet abounds with black cherry and dried cranberry woven with cola and sassafras and baking spice (but no yucky brown sugar). The wine is beautifully balanced and finely knit, a seamless melding of pert acidity, mellow fruit, moderate tannins and supple, subtle oak. After half an hour, notes of melon ball and rhubarb creep in, and after a few more minutes, the tannins exude a sort of old papery dryness and briery earthiness, rounding the package out with a bit of graphite-like minerality while never losing a grip on a lovely, macerated red fruit character. The grapes for this beautiful pinor noir come from Antinori’s Atlas Peak Vineyard. The gentle oak treatment consisted of 11 months aging in Burgundy barrels, only 30 percent new. Production was 399 cases. Excellent. About $35.

LL is out of town, and last night I wanted to sit right here at the keyboard and work through what would have been the dinner-hour, so I thought — or perhaps even said aloud to the unavoidable audience of dogs that inhabits our domicile — “Oh, what the hell, cheese toast will be fine.” I have discovered over the last six months that great pinot noir and simple cheese toast share a remarkable and unexpected affinity, and on that premise I opened the Eddy Family Wines Elodian Pinot Noir 2007, from the Yamhill-Carlton District of Oregon’s Willamette Valley. Here is a wonderful example of classic, old-fashioned pinot noir, one in which lightness of color and delicacy of structure do not imply blandness or lack of power. Indeed, the wine is powered by electrifying acidity that cuts a swath on the palate and brings into sharp focus flavors of sour cherry, melon ball, cranberry and cloves. These aspects are borne on layers of brambles and some mossy, root-like tea, all wrapped in a texture that combines satin with sinew. The wine grows increasingly austere as the moments pass, and its spicy nature turns from baking spice to woody spice. Balance and integration here, dimension and detail are perfect in poise and nuance. Completely lovely. 580 cases. Excellent. About $45.

The times and the tastes they are a-changing in Germany. Look at this statistic from the German Wine Institute: In 1980, the ratio of white wine produced in the country to red wine was 88.6 percent white and 11.4 percent red. In 2007, the production figures are 63.2 percent white and 36.8 percent red. Yes, the German wine consumer is turning away from white wine in favor of red wine, and red in Germany generally means pinot noir (spätburgunder). Plantings of pinot noir in Germany’s wine regions have grown from 3.8 percent of total acreage in 1980 to 11.6 percent in 2007 or about 30,377 acres.

(Though plantings of white grapes are down, plantings of riesling itself increased by about 1,235 acres in 2007. Germany’s total vineyard acreage in 2007, about 102,000 hectares — 262,140 acres — lands it in seventh place in Europe behind Spain, France, Italy, Portugal, Romania, Moldavia and Greece, but ahead of Bulgaria, Hungary, Austria and Switzerland. Spain’s vineyard acreage — 1,169,000 hectares or 3,004,330 acres, by far the largest in the world — beggars the imagination. What happens to all that Spanish wine?)

The pinot noir grape has a long history in Germany, but the problem is that it’s not easy to get pinot noir grapes to ripen around the 50th parallel, which runs through the upper Pfalz and Rheinhessen. As a result, German pinot noirs tended to be thin and acidic. Climate change in the past decade, however — and if you don’t believe in global-warming, talk to German winemakers — has brought the blessing of milder winters and slightly warmer summers (“slightly,” except for the brutally hot summer of 2003), resulting in the potential for riper grapes all around.

The additional problem, though, is what to do with these fully (or more fully) ripe pinot noir grapes. With a couple of exceptions, the red wines I tasted in Germany two weeks ago seemed unsatisfactory from myriad aspects. Many producers in Germany, like their counterparts in the New World, seem to believe that making serious wine means deploying serious oak, even if the grapes involved inherently don’t take kindly to the heavy-handed treatment with wood. For example, Rainer Eymann, at Weingut Eymann in Gönnheim, Pfalz, gave his Gönnheimer Sonnenberg Pinot Noir 2005 two years in oak, effectually killing any flavor, or as my notes say, “Jesus! Where’s the fruit?” On the other hand, he aged his Gönnheimer Mandelgarten Merlot 2007 one year in barrique, the somewhat standard 59-gallon French barrel, and produced one of the best, most interesting and complex red wines we tasted on our trip.

The so-called “noble” grapes varieties in Germany are highly susceptible to the potentially devastating fungal diseases downy mildew and powdery mildew, and great efforts have been made in the past 20 years to concoct grape varieties that are more resistant. Some of these crossings include, for white wine, Johanniter, Phoenix, Solaris and Monarch, and, for red wine, Regent (the most widely planted, but only about 5,600 acres), Cabernet Cortis, Cabernet Carbon and Prior. We tasted a few red wines made from blends of these or other hybrid grapes and found them mainly sappy, weedy and foxy, as if they were a combination of gamay, pinotage and black muscadine, though they were presented with pride and hope. Better to work with pinot noir and try to get that right than to trifle with these minor, goofy grapes.

On the other hand, we tried some pinot noirs that were not just encouraging but outright fine achievements, though, as one would expect, they were individual expressions of the grape; all pinot noir wines don’t have to imitate the Holy Grail of Burgundy, but they need to be recognizably varietal. One of these was the Spätburgunder 2005 from Heiner Sauer, an organic producer since 1987 in the village of Böchingen, in Pfalz. (Sauer also owns Bodegas Palmera, a winery in the Utiel Requena region of Spain.) Sauer’s Spätburgunder ‘05 sported a radiant medium ruby-magenta color; a deeply spicy, smoky bouquet of mulberry and black cherry; and a chewy, almost muscular texture that cushioned elements of leather and moss, black pepper and cloves, fruit cake and plums. The wine aged 10 months in barriques, of which 50 percent were new barrels. This excellent pinot noir, both authentic and individual, would sell in Germany for 17.5 euros, or about $24.70.

Another well-made pinot noir was the Rotwein (“Red Wine”) Barrique 2007 from Weingut Peter Jakob Kühn, a rigorously biodynamic estate in the Rheingau village of Oestrich (and I’ll write more about this estate and its methods in a few days). As seems to be the case with pinot noir wines from Rheingau, Rheinhessen and Pfalz, this one emphasizes the grape’s spicy aspects; is this stylistic choice or climatic necessity? The color was a lovely medium ruby with a slight brick-red cast; the bouquet delivered beguiling aromas of cloves and allspice with spiced red and black currants and plums. The wine was quite dry, earthy and loamy, reminding me of some location-focused pinots from Oregon’s Willamette Valley, and while there was a sufficient (though not abundant) quantity of delicious black fruit flavors, the wood really showed itself from mid-palate back. Personally, I could have used a grilled veal chop with this wine, but we were in the tasting room at Weingut Peter Jakob Kühn, and no such thing was in sight. If you lived in Germany, you would pay 22.70 euros for this wine, about $32.

The wines of Weingut Heimer Sauer and Weingut Peter Jakob Kühn are imported to the United States by Domaine Select Wine Estates.

Truly, though, the pinot noir that I enjoyed the most in Germany came on our first night in Oppenheim, at the restaurant L’herbe de Provence in Hotel Zwo, a sleek place that, like the other small-town establishments where we ate, consisted of a restaurant that occupied the entire first floor with two floors of rooms above. The main course at this introductory meal was a “back” of a country-style “Donnersberger” suckling pig served with asparagus and polenta; with it we drank a Guntersblumer Eiserne Hand Spätburgunder trocken 2007 from the Gehimrat Schnell winery. This was a lovely little pinot that boasted a ravishing bouquet of plums, mulberries, dried spices and dried flowers and winsome flavors of macerated and spiced red and black currants with overtones of lilacs and brambles. Not a great pinot noir by any means, but immensely appealing and drinkable. It would set you back the lordly sum of 8 euros, about $11.30.

Judd’s Hill is a busy place. First, of course, it’s a winery, owned by Art and Bunnie Finkelstein, former owners of Whitehall Lane, a producer of exemplary cabernet. Assisting are son Judd Finkelstein and his wife Holly. Judd’s Hill makes about 3,000 cases of wine annually, keeping things small to concentrate on the details. There’s also a frenetic side to the enterprise, one of which is Judd’s Enormous Wine Show, a sort of demented love child of a blog and a video created by Judd Finkelstein and his childhood friend, Rudy McClain. (I’m always amazed that people even have childhood friends. Sniff. Sob.) Another aspect of Judd’s Hill is MicroCrush, a custom winemaking service; if you have a ton of grapes or if you’re looking for a ton of grapes, MicroCrush will take care of everything, all the way to bottling the final wine.

O.K., great, but what about the wine from Judd’s Hill?

I tried four red wines recently and found them to range from excellent to exquisite.
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Let’s take the oldest wine first. The Judd’s Hill Estate Red Wine 2002, Napa Valley, is a blend of 88 percent cabernet sauvignon, 7 percent merlot and 5 percent cabernet franc. The winery typically holds the Estate Red Wine back a few years so that it’s mature or ready to drink on release. This is a large-framed, serious wine, delirious with minerals, rapturously fruity and blessed with great dimension, detail and gravity. Black currants and dusty plums are permeated by cedar and tobacco with touches of walnut shell and underbrush. The texture feels like velvet, but the wine is not opulent or voluptuous, its sensuous nature held in check by grainy, chewy tannins, dense and moderately spicy oak — 20 months in a mixture of new and old French barrels — and a scintillating acid backbone. There’s nothing over-ripe or demonstrative here; rather, the emphasis is on intensity and balance. The finish brings in hints of bark and mossy forest floor for some austerity. Still, at not quite seven years old, the wine feels young, and should drink well with roast beef and grilled steaks through 2015 or ‘16. Production was 280 cases. Excellent. About $75.
This wine is garbed in the winery’s previous rather stodgy label; these other three come dressed in the more modern label shown above.
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My first note on the Judd’s Hill Cabernet Sauvignon 2005, Napa Valley, is “superb.” I suppose I could stop there — I mean, you can take my word for this — but I’ll fill in the background anyway. It’s interesting that the composition of this wine and its oak treatment are the same as for the Red Wine 2002 mentioned just above, a fact that testifies to a healthy consistency of viewpoint and technique. Of course there are differences too; first, 2005 and 2002 are different (and excellent) vintages, each with its own nature, and, second, the grapes for the Cabernet Sauvignon 2005 derive from three vineyards, while the Red Wine 2002 comes from one estate vineyard in Conn Valley, east of the town of St. Helena. So, in saying “superb,” partly what I refer to is this wine bold, classic structure, a sort of architecture of depth and breadth with framing and foundation provided by bastions of dry, grainy tannins and buttresses of oak. So deep purple that it’s almost black, the wine weaves black and red currant and blackberry scents and flavors with cedar and walnut shell, briers and brambles and undercurrents of mossy earthiness. Imponderable intensity and concentration here, leavened by winsome strains of licorice, lavender and potpourri. Try from 2010 through 2015 or ‘16. Production was 1,580 cases. Excellent. About $45.
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The Judd’s Hill Old Vine Petite Sirah 2005, Lodi, was so profoundly earthy and minerally that at first I thought something was “off” about it; was it a tad “corked”? Repeated swirls, sniffs and sips revealed, however, that the wine was simply so pure and intense and concentrated that it radiated authenticity and individuality almost unprecedented. This is, I’m saying, the real goods when it comes to petite sirah. The wine is deep, rich and spicy, on the one hand, bursting with ripe, slate-glazed black currant, blackberry and plum flavors yet, on the other hand, it features such heart-stopping tannins that the glass feels heavier in your hand than it should (sort of). Immense gravitas is the raison d’etre. There’s 12 percent zinfandel in the blend. A true smoked ribs wine, through 2011 or ‘12. Production was 360 cases. Excellent. About $30.
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Honestly, though, my favorite of this quartet is the gorgeous Judd’s Hill Pinot Noir 2007, Central Coast, from the San Ysidro Vineyard in the southern Santa Clara Valley. Now when I say “gorgeous,” I’m not implying that this is a pushover, a pretty face of a wine, because, as all great pinot noir should, this possesses that paradoxical quality of feeling full-bodied and complete at the same time as it feels spare and reticent and delicate. Gorgeous it is, though, with a panoply of dried sweet spices ranging over red and black currants and plums and an almost insane level of violet and rose petal and an irresistible satiny texture. A few minutes in the glass conjure hints of mulberry and raspberry, along with, from mid-palate back, increasing dryness and austerity. Interestingly, five percent syrah grapes go into this wine; to buck it up a bit perhaps? to add color and depth? Why? The last thing this wine needs is bolstering of any kind, a factor acknowledged in the oak regimen: eight months in neutral French barrels, so the wood influence offers gentle shaping to the wine rather than a direct influence. Anyway, this is the sort of shimmeringly pure pinot noir that restaurants serious about their California lists should have a few bottles on hand for discerning patrons eager to avoid the flamboyance that characterizes too many examples of the state’s pinot noir. 668 cases. Excellent. About $26.
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Occasionally we read in the more high-toned wine publications articles that pose the ancient, imponderable and futile question, “Is Great Bordeaux a Greater Wine Than Great Burgundy?” or the reverse. And occasionally you see the comment, usually from an old school writer about wine or from the notes of a famous old connoisseur that Bordeaux is a young man’s drink while Burgundy is for middle age; understand that we’re referring to red wines.

Well, fie, what does all that folderol mean anyway? Great Bordeaux wines and great Burgundy wines are, you know, great. It’s like comparing kumquats and toothbrushes (especially electric toothbrushes). The geography is different, the climates are different, the philosophies and systems are different, not to mention, of course, the grapes. (Have you ever noticed that when people say, “not to mention,” they go ahead and mention whatever it is they pretend that they’re not going to mention in the first place?) Bordeaux wines are almost always blended; Burgundies are 100 percent varietal, that is, pinot noir for the red wines. Before the Revolution, most of the famous vineyards of Burgundy were owned and farmed by religious orders; Bordeaux, on the other hand, was the home of the well-known rationalist and skeptic, Montaigne, who served as mayor of the city from 1581 to 1585. See? You can’t compare these places.

Here’s a story:

In December 1999, actually on my birthday, I stood in the chilly cellar of Domaine G. Roumier in the village of Chambolle-Musigny, in Burgundy, as winemaker Christophe Roumier, grandson of the domain’s founder, piped a dribble of dark purple Chambolle-Musigny Les Amoureuses 1998 from the barrel into my glass. I sipped. I trembled. I succumbed. I thought, “Holy shit, that’s the best wine I have ever tasted in my life.”

Three days later, I stood, still chilly, in the surprisingly modest old stone building that connoisseurs around the world recognize as the seat of Chateau Petrus in Pomerol, an hour’s drive northeast of the city of Bordeaux, maker of the best merlot-based wine in the cosmos. I take a sip of a barrel sample of Petrus 1998, so dark that it’s almost black, and feel as if a thunderclap has gone off in my head. “Holy, shit,” says the thought-cloud above my cranium, “this is the best wine I have ever tasted in my life.”

And yet … about the greatest pinot noir wines, whether of Burgundy or certain very specific spots in California or certain very specific spots in Oregon’s Willamette Valley (I’m not sold on New Zealand), in addition to their profundity, their gravity, their nobility (qualities they often share with Bordeaux wines), there wafts the elusive ineffable, what Christophe Roumier described that day, in connection with his Chambolle-Musigny Les Amoureuses 1998, as “the power of delicacy.” It diminishes the mystery to call it “roses and slate” or “violets and wet bark” or “satin and loam.” It’s that almost indescribable marriage of opposite forces that leads pinot noir lovers ever onward in search of the grail.

All this serves as prelude to reviews of four groups of three pinot noir wines, one from a great estate in Burgundy, Mongeard-Mugneret, the rest from California.
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Yes, three more mystery wines, wrapped in black tissue, and all I knew was that they represented pinot noir of three vintages from the same producer in California.

Here are my notes, transcribed from my little blue notebook:
>Mystery Pinot Noir #1: “Medium ruby-purple color; red currant — blackberry — cranberry & cola; pretty classic; dried cloves w/ a hint of allspice astringency; v. dry — slightly herbal; succulent but demanding too & w/ a shyly austere finish… lots of tone & grip, a little brambly, foresty and earthy, good acidity.”
In other words, “pretty classic” indeed, with keen acidity cutting a swath on the palate and making, along with the wine’s gentle but persistent tannins and subtle oak influence, a structure both purposeful and suave. A compelling young pinot noir of a recent or most recent year. Excellent.

>Mystery Pinot Noir #2: “Color a touch lighter than the previous example; a little earthier, a little funkier — fruit ripe and more macerated, black and red fruit but adds a note of rhubarb and hint of sassafras — very well-knit, smooth and polished; the spicy element unfolds slowly — intriguing touches of old saddle-leather, moss and beetroot to compose the earthy quality.”
So, an older year, a slightly more mature pinot noir, recognizably in the same style, that is, smooth, satiny, supple and subtle and with fruit opening and softening. Absolutely delicious. Excellent again.

>Mystery Pinot Noir #3: “Just lovely … tobacco — lavender — roses — slate; macerated and roasted blue and red fruit; very dry, austere, briers and brambles, hints of sassafras and wheatmeal… years to go.”
A fairly paradoxical pinot noir, opening with tremendous sensual appeal and then, once you get into it, closing down and turning a blank, almost truculent visage to the drinker. Try in two or three years. Excellent but more in potential than present enjoyment.

It turned out that these wines were from Cuvaison, an all-estate producer specializing in chardonnay and pinot noir. The pinots I tasted — in this order, according to the way they were wrapped and numbered, 2007, 2005, 2006 — are from the winery’s Carneros estate in the Napa Valley. The winery was founded in 1969, near Calistoga, in the northern part of Napa. Cuvaison has been owned since 1979 by the Schmidheiny family of Switzerland. The wines have been marketed and nationally distributed since 1996 by Terlato Wines International (formerly Paterno). Winemaker is Steven Rogstad.

I was happy to discover that these beautifully balanced and proportioned pinots came from Cuvaison, because I blow distinctly hot and cold on the winery’s chardonnays, some of which I find unbearably overwrought. It’s interesting, or strange, that a producer is capable of making chardonnay in a manner so flamboyant and strident that my palate finds them undrinkable, and yet fashion pinots in a finely knit, elegant and spare style. Some mysteries are just unfathomable, I suppose.

So, again, here are the wines in the order of tasting: Cuvaison Point Noir 2007, 2005 and 2006, all Napa Valley, Carneros, all rate Excellent. The 2005 and ‘06 are about $30; the 2007 is about $33.
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The Mongeard family has been making wine in Vosne-Romanée since the middle of the 18th Century. The domaine owns about 65 acres of village, Premier Cru and Grand Cru vineyards in Côte de Nuits, the northern part of Burgundy proper. These pinot noir wines tend to embody old-fashioned virtues like reticence, intensity and concentration, representing a sense of decorum and elegance, yet not neglecting sensible, even rigorous structure. The wines will be released at the end of 2009. They are imported by Vineyard Brands, Birmingham, Ala.
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The first words in my notes about the Mongeard-Mugneret Savigny-lès-Beaune Narbantons Premier Cru 2007 are “Lovely, sleek.” The bouquet teems with lilac and rose petals, smoke, black cherries and currants. This pinot noir is quite dry and earthy, packed with juicy black and red fruit flavors cloaked in soft grainy tannins and polished oak for an effect that’s high-toned and elegant. The domaine owns 1.39 hectares (3.57 acres) of the 9.49-hectare (24.38 acres) Narbantons vineyard. The vines average 53 years old. The wine sees about 35 percent new oak. Drink now through 2013 or ‘14. Very Good+. About $43.
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The Mongeard-Mugneret Echézeaux Grand Cru 2007 did not allow many ways in; it frankly rebuffed ingress by its formidably sizable and tannic character. What one perceives — or is allowed to perceive — is a sense of dark, immutable vibrancy and resonance coupled to a depth of rich spicy fruit that feels both inchoate and unfathomable. This needs years, say from 2013 or ‘14 through 2019 to 2024. Echézeaux, at 96.8 acres, is by far the largest vineyard in the great and glorious commune of Vosnes-Romanée; Mongeard-Mugneret owns a hair over 7 acres. Excellent potential for the patient and well-heeled. About $98.
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This is the bouquet that you write love letters to, though they may be returned unopened, the bouquet that turns you into a stalker, a hopeless romantic and victim of obsessive love, finally flung into a sordid gutter, a dried-out, pathetic husk of your former self. Of course, you reveled in every moment of your seduction and degradation. And then comes the water-boarding of the tannins, the thwack of 100 percent new oak against your tongue, the impenetrable blackness of fruit, the unerring aim of drone acidity and yet — AND YET! — the wine’s structure is not only monolithic but balletic, elevated, ineffable, a model of pinpoint balance and poise. The wine is the Mongeard-Mugneret Grands-Echézeaux Grand Cru 2007, from a 23.5-acre vineyard of which Mongeard-Mugneret owns 3.7 acres. The vines are 40 to 68 years old. Enormous potential, but don’t touch until 2013 or ‘15 and then consume until 2020 to ‘25. About $163 (a bottle).
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It is an article of faith in Burgundy that the nuances of terroir that influence even vineyards lying next to each other — soil and subsoil, elevation, exposure, drainage — justify the Burgundian system of vineyard classification and the prices that these famous vineyards command. Remember that in Burgundy, while the domaine that made the wine is indeed an important factor, it’s the vineyards that are officially classified, not the domaines.

Quickly and a little simplistically, Burgundy’s vineyards are divided into three tiers: the village or commune level; the Premier Cru level; and, at the top, the Grands Crus. (Red wines are made from pinot noir grapes, white wines primarily from chardonnay.) A label that says Gevrey-Chambertin (I’ll use this commune as the model) is a village wine, the pinot noir grapes for which were drawn from vineyards designated for that purpose; such a wine should, ideally, convey a general sense of what the commune’s characteristics are.

A label that adds a Premier Cru vineyard to the statement — Gevrey-Chambertin Aux Combottes, for example — will adorn a bottle of wine made only from that vineyard, and the term “Premier Cru” is required; the wine should reflect the character of that particular vineyard. A Grand Cru wine dispenses with the name of the village or commune and, in august fashion, adorns the label with its sole presence, as in Chambertin or Clos de Beze, two of the Grand Cru vineyards of Gevrey-Chambertin.

The distinctions between and the fame of many of Burgundy’s Premier Cru and Grand Cru vineyards go back a thousand years; certainly these qualities were fixed 200 or 250 years ago. Chambertin was the favorite wine of Napoleon, whose troops, it is said, reversed arms in the vineyard’s honor when marching past it.

My purpose today, however, has not to do with Gevrey-Chambertin and its eight Grand Cru and 26 Premier Cru vineyards, but with Nuits-Saint-Georges (south of Gevrey-Chambertin in the Cote de Nuits section of Burgundy), which has no Grands Crus but 27 Premiers Crus, one of which, Les Saint-Georges, has recently been the subject of a petition to elevation to Grand Cru status. One of the petitioners is Domaine Henri Gouges, a venerable producer, now run by the third generation, which makes wine only from Nuits-Saint-Georges vineyards, including Les Saint-Georges.

Henri Gouges created the domaine in 1925 when he became one of the first growers in Burgundy to bottle and sell his wine under his own name. The typical practice was to sell grapes or wine to negociants, who finished, or “elevated” the wine and sold it under their labels. The domaine is now run by Henri Gouges’ grandsons, the cousins Christian and Pierre. The domaine owns 14.5 hectares of vineyards, just under 40 acres, in Nuits-Saint-Georges and produces a red and a white Bourgogne (the white from pinot blanc), a Nuits Villages and seven wines from Premier Cru vineyards, four of which I want to compare, Les Chenes Carteaux, Clos des Porrets St. Georges, Les Pruliers and Les Saint-Georges, all from 2007.

Domaine Henri Gouges makes old-fashioned, firmly structured wines. New oak is kept to a maximum of 20 percent, so the wines are not overly influenced by toasty oak or woodiness, but they tend to be quite tannic, a common quality of these four wines. Henri Gouges Nuits-Saint-Georges Les Chenes Carteaux Premier Cru 2007, for example, is characterized by significant yet attractive weight and heft; aromas of minerals and clean earth and tightly furled black fruit, slightly spicy and floral, feel both serious and inviting, In the mouth, the wine is expansive, intense and concentrated, a little meaty, very dry, minerally and, at the finish, austere with plush, grainy tannins. This needs three or four years to become a bit more yielding. Very Good+.

The Henri Gouges Nuits-Saint-Georges Clos des Porrets Saint-Georges Premier Cru 2007 retains the chewy tannins of its cousin but the structure here feels more muscular and sinewy, and the aromas are a little earthier, spicier, with a touch of roots and wheatmeal. Fruit tends more toward red, as in red currants and plums, but with a hint of black currants. Tannic, yes, but also supple and powered by brisk acidity. Best from 2011 to 2016 or ‘18. Excellent.

You have to remember that all of these vineyards are located not more than a few hundred yards from each other. Though Ronciers (which Henri Gouges does not cultivate) lies between Clos des Porrets and Les Pruliers, a good place-kicker could kick a football from one to the other. As to the differences between these two wines, the Henri Gouges Nuits-Saint-Georges Les Pruliers Premier Cru 2007 is darker, substantial, more brooding and more subdued, a powerhouse of dry tannins etched with finely delineated acid. Try this after 2012 and expect good results through 2017 or ‘19. Excellent potential.

Finally, we come to the Henri Gouges Les Saint-Georges Premier Cru 2007. The wine is immediately enticing, with aromas of spiced and macerated red fruit, touches of leather and potpourri and dried herbs; in the mouth, the wine feels huge, immensely earthy and mineral-like, permeated by dense tannins, though hinting at succulence and a satiny texture. Great presence, tone and character. Give this remarkable wine four to six years and enjoy through 2018 or 2020. Excellent potential.

These wines will be released in the United States toward the end of 2009. Approximate prices will be about $80 for Les Chenes Carteaux; about $82 for Clos des Porrets Saint-Georges; about $86 for Le Pruliers; and about $147 for Les Saint-Georges.

The importer is Vineyard Brands, Birmingham, Ala.

Lunchtime. “Hmmm,” I thought, “I better make some cheese toast.”

Slices of baguette, a smear of mustard, some Irish cheddar cheese, a few sprigs of thyme, grated Parmesan, a dribble of olive oil, salt and pepper. Run them under the broiler for a couple of minutes until the cheese melts and goes just past the bubbly stage and the edges of the bread get toasty.

Wine? At random I plucked a bottle of the Clos du Val Pinot Noir 2007, Carneros, from the shelf and was happy that I had done so.

This is a true earthy pinot noir, with stirring aromas of moss and briers, smoky black cherry, cola and a touch of sassafras, a whiff of beetroot. All of these elements are woven into seductive strands that entice the nose rather than assailing it. The lovely texture feels like cool satin sliding over the tongue. Flavors run to blueberry, mulberry and red currant wrapped in briers and brambles and borne by vibrant acid that cuts a swath on the palate and subtle, supple, slightly spicy oak from aging 14 months in French oak, of which only 2 percent of the barrels were new. An elegant and classically proportioned pinot noir with grit and grip at the heart. The alcohol level is a mild 13.5 percent. Now through 2012. Excellent. About $30.

My linkedin profile.

Can it be that hard to make great or even good pinot noir wines? Sure, it’s a delicate grape, a little high-strung, requiring careful nurture. Here, however, is my more than reasonable dicta to (mainly) producers in California, for whom pinot noir is a sort of Holy Grail: Lay off the oak! Avoid deep extraction! Keep the freakin’ alcohol at a sane level!

See how simple it is?

The errant pinot noirs that I’m going to mention today don’t necessarily taste bad; I don’t mean that you would spit them out in a gush of disgust. They just don’t taste (or look or smell) like pinot noir. These are the pinot noir wines that would sit before a Senate subcommittee and confess, “Yes, Your Excellency, in 2006 I did indulge in performance-enhancing substances, but my doctor made me do it.”

Now I understand that there’s no reason why pinot noir producers in California and Oregon should slavishly imitate the manner of pinot noir made in Burgundy, the grape’s natural homeland. Differences in geography, climate, soil and philosophy dictate varied approaches to farming and winemaking and of the impressionable grape itself to these conditions. I have found myself frequently defending a pinot from Russian River Valley or Santa Rita Hills from charges that it is “too Californian.” Yet the essence of the grape should and must remain intact; where a pinot noir wine is powerful, that power should be married to delicacy, and where it is dynamic, that dynamism should be allied with elegance. The world of wine has room for blockbusters; we call them syrah, petite sirah and zinfandel. Pinot noir requires finesse, a lighter touch.

Here, then, are five pinot noirs wines from four regions of California that displeased me to greater or lesser degrees, but mainly by taking on the pumped-up character of other grapes. I will, next week, post reviews of pinot noirs wines that I do, indeed, admire.

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I swear, sometimes I don’t know what to think of X Winery. In some ways, I’m a great admirer. Certainly the winery’s flagship product, Amicus, which debuted in the 2000 vintage, is a great Napa Valley cabernet-based wine that happens to sell for half or a third of what comparable wines sell for. (My reviews of the two Amicus wines from 2005 are here.) X’s merlot and regular cabernet sauvignon are always compellingly sleek and integrated; the petite sirah is appropriately rustic and bumptious; and the blended X Winery Red Wine and the “ES” Sauvignon Blanc are consistently attractive bargains.

But I blow hot and cold on X’s chardonnay. I thought that the X Winery Truchard Vineyard Chardonnay 2006, Carneros, Napa Valley, was pretty much a travesty, made more so because the chardonnay that the Truchard winery itself makes from these vines is exquisite. On the other hand, the X Winery Chardonnay 2007, Los Carneros, from the Truchard Vineyard (54%) and the well-known Sangiacomo Vineyard (46%) is one of the best, most balanced and integrated, yet boldly flavorful chardonnays X Winery has made to date; I mean you just want to kiss the limestone. It rates Excellent, and at $19, it’s a steal. That’s nice and all that, but such inconsistency is disturbing.

The point here is that I feel the same way about the X Winery Truchard Vineyard Pinot Noir 2007 as I did about its chardonnay counterpart from 2006. The wine ages 12 months in 90 percent French oak, of which 30 percent of the barrels were new; that might not be too much oak for some wines, but it was too much for this one, which is dominated by a strident brown sugar element, aggressive spice and downright woodiness. I expect — no, hope for –more finesse from this producer. 784 cases. Good only. About $25.
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I’ll back-track for a second here and say that the Hahn Estates Pinot Noir 2006, Monterey County, did not displease me greatly, but it certainly didn’t please me a great deal either. This would be a nifty wine if it were a syrah, but it is, of course, not. Nothing wrong with the oak regimen here; 10 months in French oak, 65 percent new, seems right. The alcohol, however, is 14.5 percent, and the sweet heat and over-ripeness of alcohol really make themselves known. The wine is big and ripe, intense and concentrated, with macerated and roasted black currants and blackberries; did I mention syrah already? The texture is so super-satiny that it envelops your tongue; you feel almost as if you can’t get away from it. Not a bad wine if it were something else, but not a good pinot noir. Good+. About $20.
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Spice dominates the Ventana Vineyards Pinot Noir 2006, Arroyo Seco, Monterey, from start to finish, and by the time I got to that finish, I could have been convinced that what I was drinking was a very spicy, very ripe merlot or a slightly mild-mannered syrah. Sorry, there was nothing particularly pinot noirish about this wine. It aged 10 months in French oak — we are not informed about the percentage of new to old barrels — and the alcohol is a sane 13.5 percent; no red flags there. Still, I kept hoping for something more distinctively characteristic of the grape than spicy black cherry and plum flavors and a smooth texture. Not that it tasted bad or anything; the wine was actually attractive. It just didn’t smell or taste like pinot noir, and it is, I believe, the responsibility of a winemaker, whatever his or her vision of a wine, to give us a wine that’s varietally true. Good+. About $28.
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When the initial aromas of a pinot noir wine are smoke and charred beef, you know you’re in trouble. That was the case with the MacMurray Ranch Pinot Noir 2006, Russian River Valley, Sonoma County, a “pinot noir” so dark and spicy, so robust and hearty, so laced with qualities of leather and black pepper, that you would have sworn it was — need I say it? — a syrah. I’m a fan of MacMurray’s Pinot Gris, which is one of the best in California, and I have usually liked the winery’s Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir. This Russian River Valley version, however, was beyond the pale. Good+. About $37.

This is the point in this post where some readers (and perhaps winemakers) are beginning to get restive and mutter, “Who the hell does this guy think he is, telling winemakers that the wines they have worked on and exercised their thoughts and talents on happen to be not varietally true? Sheesh!”

Listen: Grapes have character, and they have characteristics, and while it’s true that the character and characteristics of grapes must necessarily admit variations that derive from the soil where they are grown and the climate that influences them, they still must retain the core, the heart of their essence. Whatever its regional influences, a wine based on the cabernet sauvignon grape, for example, should be identifiable by its essence of black currant, slate, cedar and tobacco, whether made in Pauillac, the Napa Valley or the Hunter Valley. In fact, that sense of a grape’s essential nature bolstered by and integrated with regional qualities should provide one of wine-tasting and drinking’s most profound pleasures.

Some grapes are more malleable than others, as witness sauvignon blanc wines made, say, in Sancerre, Graves, Lake County and Marlborough. What a heady set of variations that geographical extent produces, yet the wines are still identifiable as sauvignon blanc. Less malleable is the pinot noir grape, whose essential (and potentially glorious) character allows only a narrow range of variations, lest it be turned into something perverse.

The word “malleable” is important, because it implies the influence of the human element, the laying on of hands in the process of turning grapes into wine. There is no such matter as a truly “hands-off” approach to winemaking, but those hands must be gentle, not manipulative, offering guidance and nurture, not forceful shaping or ego-driven intervention. The eloquence of a wine, its ability to express the natural character of its grapes, come not from the winemaker but from the grapes themselves. The winemaker’s job is to make certain that those grapes sing. When a merlot smells and tastes like zinfandel, when a pinot noir smells and tastes like syrah, when a gruner veltliner smells and tastes like chardonnay, a great and sad failure has occurred.
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I was speaking of character. The Wild Horse Cheval Sauvage Pinot Noir 2005, Santa Maria Valley, Santa Barbara County, on the other hand, is a caricature. Far from being “classically elegant,” as the material that came with the wine asserts, this is a big, beefy, body-builder of a pinot noir, packed with the off-putting brown sugar quality that distinguishes too many pinot noirs made in California, especially if, like this wine, they have gone through 15 months in oak. This wine is deeply extracted, dark, weighty, exaggerated and, as far as reflecting its origins goes, not a success. 720 cases. About $65.
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