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Pinot Noir Adjectives

by Dan Beekley

I grew up in a small town. It was serene and quiet. I went to a rural school, had small-town friends, and a tight knit family. I attended a small college, drove a small car, and lived in tiny apartments. I have neither owned many things, nor sought material things. The minimal life suits me. I like simple, I like small. I am down to earth. The notion that bigger is better baffles me.

As a matter of fact, Big has passed me by.

I’ve spent the last four months talking about Oregon and sampling Chehalem wines with consumers and trade alike, people who are passionate about fine wine. I’m thrilled with the level of knowledge and the excitement for wine that I see. Yet I’m mystified at the first question out of many mouths.

"Which one is the biggest?"

And then the follow up:

"Which one is your best?"

I wish I could rebound with, "How large a plate of food could you eat?" or, "Which is your favorite child?"

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad people are interested. I understand that our world is dominated by Big Macs, bottomless cups of coffee, all-you-can-eat salad bars, Grand Openings, and Full-size luxury cars. Magnitude, volume, and power characterize quality and dominate descriptive wine lexicon. Size and stature measure success. Big is the status quo.

But not for Pinot Noir.

Pinot exacts itself in smaller terms. I think that’s why I love it so much. Pinot Noir is cerebral, provocative, and stimulating. It can be simply satisfying and yet so complex. It can be angular and well defined. Well-made Pinot is elegant, refined, and delicate. No one can refer to a graceful, charming Pinot as "Big."

Pinot Noir is "Small." Great Pinot Noir is smaller.

A recent vertical tasting of every Chehalem Pinot ever produced revealed this truth. Pinot "reverberates" its layers. Pinot "sings" of fruit and finesse. Pinot lends itself to descriptors like "bright," "beautiful," and "full of poise." The wines I preferred were the ones that revealed themselves slowly and in finely tuned "tiny" layers. For me, Pinot Noir is orchestral, providing sounds and sensations on multiple levels.

Ever had a Whopper do that for you?

1998s and ‘99s were mixed into the tasting. The wines are stunning and will be drunk and remembered for decades. But, even with high levels of ripeness and concentration, they are understated. Modesty and beauty are right around the corner for these wines. It seems to me to be the signature of Chehalem winemaking.

Unfortunately, many wineries will turn out big, massive, colossal wines from these vintages. Few will find sophistication. Few will become classy.

It was the bottles from vintages like ’97 and ’95 that delighted. They are miraculous achievements. They exemplify simple complexity. ’97 Rion for instance has never been better. Contrary to popular belief, it is not a problem wine. Its profile is striking. It is simply gorgeous. ’95 Ridgecrest was supple and complete with immaculate balance. It would be a good time to pull a bottle from your cellar and revisit these wines.

So, I’ll go on living in my little house with my small dog, growing baby greens in my tiny garden, and driving my compact car through my village neighborhood. I’ll drink so-called "off-vintage" Pinot Noir while others wallow in oceans of extract and alcohol.

Come to think of it, next time someone asks me for my "best," I’ll pour a glass of ’97 Rion and they can see for themselves. But, if asked for my "biggest," I’ll remind them of what Tom Hanks wished for at the end of Big: "I just want to be small again."