I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up. By Noon on Wednesday we had cracked open our 18th bottle of wine (that’s 17 pinots, and one syrah, for those of you scoring at home), as we headed to our first destination.
Torii Mor, up a long and extremely bumpy dirt road, presented a beautiful view of the valley with a subtle outline of Mt. Hood in the distant haze. We tasted two white, a Pinot Gris and a chard, then it was on to the wine for which we made this trip – pinot noir.
According to the vineyard’s propaganda, “Torii Mor” essentially means “beautiful gateway to the earth,” and that is their philosophy when it comes to their pinot noirs. After 17+ bottles, I think I agree. We tasted a number of pinots, including two that had just come out of the barrel. The pinots were followed by a port, syrah-based, with only a 200-case production. It was outstanding. Then I ate a grape. It was the first pinot grape I would taste, but not the last on this eventual wine-based day.
After we got a quick viniculture lesson from our host, we headed back down the hill, and drove over to Stoller. I walked in the door of the tasting room, and there was a bunch of chardonnay grapes on the table, so I ate one. “Unoaked,” I said, much to my own amusement (no one else seemed to think it was all that funny…story of my life).
We drank two chards (one unoaked, one that saw 65% neutral oak and 35% new oak), and then the pinots. Susan noted that if everyone in the country was as interested in wine as we are, perhaps we wouldn’t have so many heated political discussion. So, wine equals peace. All we are saying, is give wine a chance!
Galileo reportedly said, “The sun, with all those planets, revolving around it and dependant on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do.” Times were apparently simpler then, but still an interesting observation.
Stoller faded into our rearview mirror, and we rolled into Dundee, where we arrived at Argyle’s tasting room. Specializing in sparklers, we tried about a half dozen, including one made from – you guessed it – pinot noir grapes.
It was also crush time, and I was the first non-Argyle person to taste juice off their press. Wow! Welch’s got nothin’ on this nectar of the gods. I would give up OJ if I could have a fresh glass of pinot noir juice every morning!
Argyle is the only winery, according to them, that still cold presses all their fruit, which keeps the juice nice and fresh, and enables them to have more control over the process during the harvest. And our very helpful guide told us it would be best f we kept our arms out of the stemmer – gentle on grapes, not so much on body parts.
Although we really enjoyed Argyle, we did have one more stop, and that would include dinner as well. We made our way back up the road to Yamhill Valley, where the owner told us dirty jokes until we peed his wine.
And he wasn’t shy with his wines, pouring everything from his famous Pinot Gris, to his top shelf Tall Poppy. Less than 100 cases were made in some vintages, and he said he wouldn’t be doing an ’07, because it wasn’t “good enough.” You have to appreciate that dedication.
And Kristin definitely appreciated that dedication, as she opened bottle after bottle of Tall Poppy. I officially lost count of how many bottles we drank, and I know is if I cut myself, there’s a good chance I would bleed pinot noir. I believe the technical term is “a shitload.”
His winemakers also made us dinner, which included a fantastic, authentic mole. I haven’t had Mexican food like that since I left Cali.
After much rejoicing, we still had to get back to the place we would spend the night. So we said our goodbyes, and drove down the hill and over to Dayton, where we would spend the next two days in Martha’s Cottage. Once safely inside, we had one (or three) more glasses of pinot noir and passed out.
Torii Mor, up a long and extremely bumpy dirt road, presented a beautiful view of the valley with a subtle outline of Mt. Hood in the distant haze. We tasted two white, a Pinot Gris and a chard, then it was on to the wine for which we made this trip – pinot noir.
According to the vineyard’s propaganda, “Torii Mor” essentially means “beautiful gateway to the earth,” and that is their philosophy when it comes to their pinot noirs. After 17+ bottles, I think I agree. We tasted a number of pinots, including two that had just come out of the barrel. The pinots were followed by a port, syrah-based, with only a 200-case production. It was outstanding. Then I ate a grape. It was the first pinot grape I would taste, but not the last on this eventual wine-based day.
After we got a quick viniculture lesson from our host, we headed back down the hill, and drove over to Stoller. I walked in the door of the tasting room, and there was a bunch of chardonnay grapes on the table, so I ate one. “Unoaked,” I said, much to my own amusement (no one else seemed to think it was all that funny…story of my life).
We drank two chards (one unoaked, one that saw 65% neutral oak and 35% new oak), and then the pinots. Susan noted that if everyone in the country was as interested in wine as we are, perhaps we wouldn’t have so many heated political discussion. So, wine equals peace. All we are saying, is give wine a chance!
Galileo reportedly said, “The sun, with all those planets, revolving around it and dependant on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do.” Times were apparently simpler then, but still an interesting observation.
Stoller faded into our rearview mirror, and we rolled into Dundee, where we arrived at Argyle’s tasting room. Specializing in sparklers, we tried about a half dozen, including one made from – you guessed it – pinot noir grapes.
It was also crush time, and I was the first non-Argyle person to taste juice off their press. Wow! Welch’s got nothin’ on this nectar of the gods. I would give up OJ if I could have a fresh glass of pinot noir juice every morning!
Argyle is the only winery, according to them, that still cold presses all their fruit, which keeps the juice nice and fresh, and enables them to have more control over the process during the harvest. And our very helpful guide told us it would be best f we kept our arms out of the stemmer – gentle on grapes, not so much on body parts.
Although we really enjoyed Argyle, we did have one more stop, and that would include dinner as well. We made our way back up the road to Yamhill Valley, where the owner told us dirty jokes until we peed his wine.
And he wasn’t shy with his wines, pouring everything from his famous Pinot Gris, to his top shelf Tall Poppy. Less than 100 cases were made in some vintages, and he said he wouldn’t be doing an ’07, because it wasn’t “good enough.” You have to appreciate that dedication.
And Kristin definitely appreciated that dedication, as she opened bottle after bottle of Tall Poppy. I officially lost count of how many bottles we drank, and I know is if I cut myself, there’s a good chance I would bleed pinot noir. I believe the technical term is “a shitload.”
His winemakers also made us dinner, which included a fantastic, authentic mole. I haven’t had Mexican food like that since I left Cali.
After much rejoicing, we still had to get back to the place we would spend the night. So we said our goodbyes, and drove down the hill and over to Dayton, where we would spend the next two days in Martha’s Cottage. Once safely inside, we had one (or three) more glasses of pinot noir and passed out.
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1 comments:
Maybe you guys should give the Guinness people a call. And I'm not talking about the beer folks either.
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