Since 1998, Oregon has had six great pinot noir vintages in a row, which is remarkable considering that one torrential downpour at the wrong time can wash out the grape's taste. Oregon oenophiles note that if Miles were a true wine snob, he would have flown to Portland and driven the 45 minutes south to Willamette (pronounced will-AM-it).
''In California, you're allowed to blend in 25 percent of another grape, like syrah and zinfandel, and still call it pinot noir," says Jay McDonald, owner of the Tasting Room in Carlton. ''Here in Oregon, we're 100 percent pure pinot."
McDonald opened his business in a former bank on Main Street in 1995 as a way for smaller wineries to showcase their wine. There are more than 250 winemakers in the state, and many lack the space necessary for folks to stop in and sample the goods. They include Ken Wright Cellars and Beaux Freres, the darlings of Wine Spectator magazine, whose wines consistently score high ratings. They aren't cheap, though, with bottles in the $40-$50 range. McDonald's own blend of pinot noir grapes, which he calls EIEIO, is a bargain starting at $20 a bottle. As a thank-you to McDonald for displaying their wares, sellers asked if he wanted to buy any of their barrels. He agreed, starting up the age-old Burgundian practice of being a négociant, a merchant who buys wines from several vineyards to create his own blend.
Pinot noir lacks the heartier tannins of cabernets and is far more subtle. It starts with the scent of raspberries, cherries, or tangy blackberries, spiced with the aroma of cardamom, rose, or cinnamon, and can finish with a hint of smoke or earth.
''A glass of pinot can be a sensual, even spiritual experience when all the elements fall into place, and a heartbreaker when the universe doesn't cooperate," says Heidi Yorkshire, a Portland-based wine writer and former wine columnist for The Oregonian.
The stars were certainly aligned when winemaker Steve Doerner created his 2001 Cristom Jessie Vineyard pinot. At least, that's what the lot of us thought over dinner at Wildwood, in Portland. The ruby color hid a mix of black cherries and cinnamon, and, when tasted, the long silky finish left us clamoring for more.
