Pinot Noir Quotes

Pinot Noir country. My grape. The one varietal that truly enchants me, both stills and steals my heart with its elusive loveliness and false promises of transcendence. I loved her, and I would continue to follow her siren call until my wallet--or liver, whichever came first--gave out.

My immediate neighbourhood will not be palmy Norway – my first choice on account of its gigantic sovereign fund and generous social provision; nor my second, Italy, on grounds of regional cuisine and sun-blessed decay; and not even my third, France, for its Pinot Noir and jaunty self-regard. Instead I’ll inherit a less than united kingdom ruled by an esteemed elderly queen, where a businessman-prince, famed for his good works, his elixirs (cauliflower essence to purify the blood) and unconstitutional meddling, waits restively for his crown. This will be my home, and it will do. I

In a concentration camp Pinot Noir, amateur piano performances, and sparkling conversational skills would be totally useless.

The advertise their products in such a fashion as to make it seem wonderful to drink their ethanol products. It does not matter if they give their products fancy name like Cabernet Sauvignon or Pinot Noir, or if they put bubbles in an ethanol product and call it champagne or beer- everyone is selling ethanol.

What we hold is the pruning, the water, the treatments, the picking. The rest of the deck is in His hand.

...for people like me, People Who Drink Too Much Pinot Noir and Dance Dance Dance. Always the Dancing. I drink Pinot Noir. I Dance. I am Garbage.

What darkness swirls inside your head? You are the Pinot Noir beside my bed.

Maya, Indian goddess of illusions. Siren of shipwrecked sailors. If only you lactated Pinot Noir, you’d be perfect.

my first choice on account of its gigantic sovereign fund and generous social provision; nor my second, Italy, on grounds of regional cuisine and sun-blessed decay; and not even my third, France, for its Pinot Noir and jaunty self-regard. Instead I’ll inherit a less than united kingdom ruled by an esteemed elderly queen, where a businessman-prince, famed for his good works, his elixirs (cauliflower essence to purify the blood) and unconstitutional meddling, waits restively for his crown.

De que lado você está, eu não me importo! De que garfo você come, de que copo você bebe, que posto certo você escolhe, qual é seu orixá, seu partido, sua altura, de qual de suas cicatrizes cuida, que pássaro você prefere, quem é seu pai, qual é seu samba, Pinot noir ou Chardonay, que protetor você usa, qual é sua pele, seu perfume, qual político, quantos amores você sonha, em que Fernando, em que Ofélia, em que cinema, em que bandeira, em que cabelo você mora, qual dos túneis de Copacabana. Rezo para seus santos quando atravessar.

I gave them the same advice that had worked for me: Start by stocking your sense memory. Smell everything and attach words to it. Raid your fridge, pantry, medicine cabinet, and spice rack, then quiz yourself on pepper, cardamom, honey, ketchup, pickles, and lavender hand cream. Repeat. Again. Keep going. Sniff flowers and lick rocks. Be like Ann, and introduce odors as you notice them, as you would people entering a room. Also be like Morgan, and look for patterns as you taste, so you can, as he does, “organize small differentiating units into systems.” Master the basics of structure—gauge acid by how you drool, alcohol by its heat, tannin by its dryness, finish by its length, sweetness by its thick softness, body by its weight—and apply it to the wines you try. Actually, apply it to everything you try. Be systematic: Order only Chardonnay for a week and get a feel for its personality, then do the same with Pinot Noir, and Sauvignon Blanc, and Cabernet Franc (the Wine Folly website offers handy CliffsNotes on each one’s flavor profile). Take a moment as you drink to reflect on whether you like it, then think about why. Like Paul Grieco, try to taste the wine for what it is, not what you imagine it should be. Like the Paulée-goers, splurge occasionally. Mix up the everyday bottles with something that’s supposed to be better, and see if you agree. Like Annie, break the rules, do what feels right, and don’t be afraid to experiment.

The store smells of roasted chicken and freshly ground coffee, raw meat and ripening stone fruit, the lemon detergent they use to scrub the old sheet-linoleum floors. I inhale and feel the smile form on my face. It's been so long since I've been inside any market other than Fred Meyer, which smells of plastic and the thousands of people who pass through every day. By instinct, I head for the produce section. There, the close quarters of slim Ichiban eggplant, baby bok choy, brilliant red chard, chartreuse-and-purple asparagus, sends me into paroxysms of delight. I'm glad the store is nearly empty; I'm oohing and aahing with produce lust at the colors, the smooth, shiny textures set against frilly leaves. I fondle the palm-size plums, the soft fuzz of the peaches. And the berries! It's berry season, and seven varieties spill from green cardboard containers: the ubiquitous Oregon marionberry, red raspberry, and blackberry, of course, but next to them are blueberries, loganberries, and gorgeous golden raspberries. I pluck one from a container, fat and slightly past firm, and pop it into my mouth. The sweet explosion of flavor so familiar, but like something too long forgotten. I load two pints into my basket. The asparagus has me intrigued. Maybe I could roast it with olive oil and fresh herbs, like the sprigs of rosemary and oregano poking out of the salad display, and some good sea salt. And salad. Baby greens tossed with lemon-infused olive oil and a sprinkle of vinegar. Why haven't I eaten a salad in so long? I'll choose a soft, mild French cheese from the deli case, have it for an hors d'oeuvre with a beautiful glass of sparkling Prosecco, say, then roast a tiny chunk of spring lamb that I'm sure the nice sister will cut for me, and complement it with a crusty baguette and roasted asparagus, followed by the salad. Followed by more cheese and berries for dessert. And a fruity Willamette Valley Pinot Noir to wash it all down. My idea of eating heaven, a French-influenced feast that reminds me of the way I always thought my life would be.

Nights like this,” someone had told him, not so long ago, “feel like the world’s waiting for something.” He was sure, in hindsight, that on that night on a back step with a shared bottle of grocery store Pinot Noir, the girl beside him had wanted the two of them to be that something special.

This is a sparkling wine produced in Spain through the traditional method, or secondary fermentation in the bottle. This sparkler is produced in specific areas of Spain made up of several regions: 63 municipalities in the province of Barcelona; 52 from Tarragona; 12 in Lleida; 5 in Girona; 18 from Rioja; as well as other municipalities from Álava, Badajoz, Navarra, Valencia and Zaragoza. In order to produce a cava, local and exported grape varieties are used. White varieties include: Macabeo (Viura), Xarel-lo, Parellada, Subirat (Malvasía Riojana) and Chardonnay. Red varieties include: Red Grenache, Monastrell, Trepat and Pinot Noir. The main cava producing region is Catalonia. When you refer to the cava with its corresponding article, it usually makes reference to the cellar where the wine has been aged.

She normally would have been home at three in the afternoon, but her husband had called to say he had an emergency at work and she’d have to fetch Brady and Lily from school. It was no bother, really—there was still plenty of time to finish up in the house before starting dinner. He’d been so lovely and apologetic about having to disrupt her schedule. Mel really could be the best, most charming man, and she was going to make it up to him; she’d already decided that. She’d cook his favorite dish for dinner: liver and onions, served with a nice pinot noir she already had out on the counter. Then a family night, a movie on the couch with the kids. Maybe that new superhero movie the kids were clamoring to see, though Mel was careful about what they watched.

Vines and Tines carried such distinctive and whimsical merchandise that Sadie came close to forgetting the actual purpose of her visit. A sleek, teak table held a setting for an elegant, upscale dinner; a floral arrangement of ivory roses and bursts of dark red berries matched the silk placemats. An ornate silver wine holder encircled a bottle of Tremiato Pinot Noir, the rich color of the wine echoing the deep colors embedded in the centerpiece, almost as if the berries had been infused with the wine itself. Business cards from a local event planner formed a tiny fan on one corner of the table. Instinctively, Sadie leaned forward to smell the flowers, realizing halfway there that her nose was likely to run into silk. To her surprise, the roses were real.

employee. I reached into my suitcase and retrieved a bottle of pinot noir I was bringing home from California. I drank red wine from a paper coffee cup

She’d cook his favorite dish for dinner: liver and onions, served with a nice pinot noir

Why are you so into Pinot?” 2 Maya asks. In the next 60 seconds of the movie, the character of Miles Raymond tells a story which would set off a boom in sales of Pinot Noir. It’s a hard grape to grow. It’s thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. It’s not a survivor like Cabernet, which can just grow anywhere and thrive even when it’s neglected. No, Pinot needs constant care and attention. In fact it can only grow in these really specific, tucked away corners of the world. And only the most patient and nurturing of growers can do it, really. Only somebody who really takes the time to understand Pinot’s potential can coax it into its fullest expression. Its flavors are the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and ancient on the planet. Miles is describing himself in the dialogue and using Pinot as a metaphor for his personality. In this one scene moviegoers projected themselves on the character, feeling his longing and his quest to be understood. Sideways was a hit and won an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay. It also launched a movement, turning the misunderstood Pinot Noir into the must-have wine of the year. In less than one year after the movie’s 2004 fall release date, sales of Pinot Noir had risen 18 percent. Winemakers began to grow more of the grape to meet demand. In California alone 70,000 tons of Pinot Noir grapes were harvested and crushed in 2004. Within two years the volume had topped 100,000 tons. Today California wine growers crush more than 250,000 tons of Pinot Noir each year. Interestingly, the Japanese version of the movie did not have the same “Sideways Effect” on wine sales. One reason is that the featured grape is Cabernet, a varietal already popular in Japan. But even more critical and relevant to the discussion on storytelling is that Japanese audiences didn’t see the “porch scene” because there wasn’t one. The scene was not included in the movie. No story, no emotional attachment to a particular varietal. You see, the movie Sideways didn’t launch a movement in Pinot Noir; the story that Miles told triggered the boom. In 60 seconds Maya fell in love with Miles and millions of Americans fell in love with an expensive wine they knew little about.

North and Central America have thirty species of Vitis; China has another thirty. But Eurasia has only V. vinifera. And Eurasia is where wine was born. From Chardonnay to Pinot Noir, Syrah to Viognier, all wine—no matter what the label says, what color it is, or where it comes from—is made from the same species of grape, probably originating somewhere in the Transcaucasian Highland connecting the Black and Caspian Seas, in what’s now the country Georgia, and then spreading south to the Fertile Crescent and Egypt.

Nuit-Saint-Georges, a French pinot noir from a sub-region of Burgundy’s Côte de Nuits. All I can tell you is that it was a profound taste revelation! Ever since that night I have loved

Things in the kitchen were, thankfully, going according to plan. Ginny's hands moved at a gratifying pace over the stove. She deftly controlled the four burners to simmer sauces with ease. A pair of solid wooden cutting boards were positioned at her elbow, piled with minced garlic, leafy herbs, and fresh root vegetables. A beautiful cut of Angus beef rested on the counter, coming to room temperature and marinating in rich juices. An elevated twist on a white chocolate cheesecake chilled on the packed refrigerator shelf. All in all, she had planned a fabulous meal. This was how Ginny had always envisioned Mesquite running, smooth and well staffed, with happy guests at the table and herself at the helm. If she thought about it hard enough, which she rarely had time to do, Ginny would say this evening was damn near perfection. Feeling sentimental, she allowed herself a pour from the bottle of chilled Oregon pinot noir in the refrigerator. She wiped her fingers clean with a nearby tea towel and watched as the golden evening light filtered through the windows, illuminating the translucent burgundy liquid in her glass. This is how it should be, she thought to herself. Happy customers in the other room, her daughter and her sister all under one roof, and a warm place to call home. She'd be content if she knew it could last.

Mais il faut le voir à table comme il la regarde quand elle brille, ses yeux d'animal subjugué. D'où vient-elle donc cette créature ? Pr les mots dans sa bouche, ces idées qui lui passent par la cervelle, son insatisfaction tout le temps, son intraitable enthousiasme, ce désir d'aller voir ailleurs, de marquer les distances, cet élan qui frise l'injure parfois? Ou va-t-elle chercher tout ça ? Alors, quand leur fille a besoin de sous pour un voyage de classe ou acheter des livres, Mireille et Jean ne rechignent pas. Ils raquent. Ils font ce qu'il faut. C'est leur terrible métier de parents, donner à cette gamine les moyens de son évasion. On a si peu de raison de se réjouir dans ces endroits qui n’ont ni la mère ni la Tour Eiffel, ou dieu est mort comme partout où la soirée s’achèvent à 20 heures en semaine et dans les talus le week-end Car elle et Jeannot savent qu'ils ne peuvent plus grand-chose pour elle. Ils font comme si, mais ils ne sont plus en mesure de faire des choix à sa place. Ils en sont réduits ça, faire confiance, croiser les doigts, espérer quils l'ont élevée comme il faut et que ça suffira. L'adolescence est un assassinat prémédité de longue date et le cadavre de leur famille telle qu'elle fut git déjà sur le bord du chemin. Il faut désormais réinventer des rôles, admettre des distances nouvelles, composer avec les monstruosités et les ruades. Le corps est encore chaud. Il tressaille. Mais ce qui existait, l'enfance et ses tendresses évidentes, le règne indiscuté des adultes et la gamine pile au centre, le cocon et la ouate, les vacances à La Grande-Motte et les dimanches entre soi, tout cela vient de crever. On n'y reviendra plus. Et puis il aimait bien aller à l'hôtel, dont elle réglait toujours la note. Il appréciait la simplicité des surfaces, le souci ergonome partout, la distance minime entre le lit et la douche, l'extrême propreté des serviettes de bain, le sol neutre et le téléviseur suspendu, les gobelets sous plastique, le cliquetis précis de l'huisserie quand la porte se refermait lourdement sur eux, le code wifi précisé sur un petit carton à côté de la bouilloire, tout ce confort limité mais invariable. À ses yeux, ces chambres interchangeables n'avaient rien d'anonyme. Il y retrouvait au contraire un territoire ami, elle se disait ouais, les mecs de son espèce n'ont pas de répit, soumis au travail, paumés dans leurs familles recomposées, sans même assez de thune pour se faire plaisir, devenus les cons du monde entier, avec leur goût du foot, des grosses bagnoles et des gros culs. Après des siècles de règne relatif, ces pauvres types semblaient bien gênés aux entournures tout à coup dans ce monde qu'ils avaient jadis cru taillé à leur mesure. Leur nombre ne faisait rien à l'affaire. Ils se sentaient acculés, passés de mode, foncièrement inadéquats, insultés par l'époque. Des hommes élevés comme des hommes, basiques et fêlés, une survivance au fond. Toute la journée il dirigeait 20 personnes, gérait des centaines de milliers d'euros, alors quand il fallait rentrer à la maison et demander cent fois à Mouche de ranger ses chaussettes, il se sentait un peu sous employé. Effectivement. Ils burent un pinot noir d'Alsace qui les dérida et, dans la chaleur temporaire d'une veille d'enterrement, se retrouvèrent. - T'aurais pu venir plus tôt, dit Gérard, après avoir mis les assiettes dans le lave-vaisselle. Julien, qui avait un peu trop bu, se contenta d'un mouvement vague, sa tête dodelinant d'une épaule à l'autre. C'était une concession bien suffisante et le père ne poussa pas plus loin son avantage. Pour motiver son petit frère, Julien a l'idée d'un entraînement spécial, qui débute par un lavage de cerveau en règle. Au programme, Rocky, Les Chariots de feu, Karaté Kid, et La Castagne, tout y passe. À chaque fois, c'est plus ou moins la même chose : des acteurs torse nu et des séquences d'entraînement qui transforment de parfaits losers en machines à gagner.

Time and again, Marcus exhorts himself to stop thinking and act. Stop describing a good man. Be one. The difference between philosophy and talking about philosophy is the difference between drinking wine and talking about wine. A single sip of a good pinot noir tells you more about a vintage than years of rigorous oenology.

The whole drive up here, that’s what she’d focused on—massages, a really good pinot noir, her very own chintz-free room overlooking the vineyard where she could just be, free of Astrid and Bright Falls and all the emotional sludge her visit to Wisteria House last night had left gunking up her veins.

Amanis a spiritual being made to.be an alloy of all the metals that have no value of diamonds or rubies. Man are taught to be malleable not brittle. My father told me never entertain a whore while drinking wine, always entertain your wife after a round of Pinot noir. If you have to buy a slice of flesh don't eat the stake, look for a boney meat. Never smoke thus ungentle and uncouth you are pleasing capitalism of unethics and destroying your lungs. After drinking whiskey, and always drink Scottish, if you are poor enough try Canadian. If you want to be a sage Japanese taste crazy but it makes you a man. Boys are not made but they are roasted in fires of bellies and they stay in barrels for maturity. Spend hours reading Greek philosophy, African methodologies and read the holy Bible. In doing business always despise free lunch and never drink brandy, sometimes act like a Vatican and be an integrity vulture. Stoicism is the ultimate master. Avoid to step on great man shoe and always be water.

Animal a spiritual being made to.be an alloy of all the metals that have no value of diamonds or rubies. Man are taught to be malleable not brittle. My father told me never entertain a whore while drinking wine, always entertain your wife after a round of Pinot noir. If you have to buy a slice of flesh don't eat the stake, look for a boney meat. Never smoke thus ungentle and uncouth you are pleasing capitalism of unethics and destroying your lungs. After drinking whiskey, and always drink Scottish, if you are poor enough try Canadian. If you want to be a sage Japanese taste crazy but it makes you a man. Boys are not made but they are roasted in fires of bellies and they stay in barrels for maturity. Spend hours reading Greek philosophy, African methodologies and read the holy Bible. In doing business always despise free lunch and never drink brandy, sometimes act like a Vatican and be an integrity vulture. Stoicism is the ultimate master. Avoid to step on great man shoe and always be water.

As long as you have an empty wine glass I can borrow,” I say, pulling a jumbo-sized bottle of Pinot Noir from my bag. “Or a really long straw. Either one.

Jack ordered a bottle of pinot noir, and they perused the menu while they chatted. “So you were at Georgetown.” Melanie said it as a statement.

But if you gave them each a glass of pinot noir and a cushy ottoman, they would regale you with stories of the time they went bonkers.

Reach for a bottle of either Riesling or Pinot Noir, which our wine experts told us to be two of the most versatile wines for food and wine pairing.

Ethan ordered a bottle of Pinot Noir and even though I preferred Cab, I learned to like it because it was his favorite.

The theory is also relevant to the foods we eat; plants that are stressed have higher concentrations of xenohormetic molecules that may help us engage our own survival circuits. Look for the most highly colored ones because xenohormetic molecules are often yellow, red, orange, or blue. One added benefit: they tend to taste better. The best wines in the world are produced in dry, sun-exposed soil or from stress-sensitive varietals such as Pinot Noir; as you might guess, they also contain the most resveratrol.30 The most delectable strawberries are those that have been stressed by periods of limited water supply. And as anyone who has grown leaf vegetables can attest, the best heads of lettuce come when the plants are exposed to a one-two combo punch of heat and cold.31 Ever wonder why organic foods, which are often grown under more stressful conditions, might be better for you?

She got tipsy on pinot noir and ate too much of her pesto angel hair with blackened chicken-- now, at the door to the room, she's regretting it. She feels nauseous from the wine, and she knows her breath is bad from the garlic. Tom doesn't seem to notice; he's calm and a little giddy and keeps passing a hand over her ass, up under her dress. She wants to feel sexy; but she just can't, not with the thought of her dinner or her certainty that she has pesto in her teeth. Italian places are romantic in theory, but the pasta and the garlic and the rich sauces and filling wines are not conducive to carrying the romance past dinner.

En su orden, los vinos con mayores propiedades antioxidantes son el pinot noir, el malbec, el cabernet sauvignon, el merlot y luego el syrah –una uva que yo adoro,

She kneeled down, opened the wine fridge, and scanned the shelves, filled with a variety of white wines. Sam began to pull each bottle out and read the labels; all of the wines were products of the dozens of vineyards that dotted northern Michigan, including the two peninsulas that ran north from Traverse City into Grand Traverse Bay. There was a wealth of whites- chardonnays, sauvignon blancs, Rieslings, rosés, and dessert wines. All of these were produced within a few miles of here, Sam thought, a feeling of pride filling her soul. Sam pulled out a pinot gris and stood. A few bottles of red gleamed in the fading day's light: a cab franc, a pinot noir, a merlot. Robust reds were a bit harder to come by in northern Michigan because of the weather and growing season, but Sam was happy to see such a selection. Sam had had the pleasure of meeting famed Italian chef Mario Batali at culinary school, and the two had bonded over Michigan. Batali owned a summer home in Northport, not far from Suttons Bay, and he had been influential early on in touting Michigan's summer produce and fruit, fresh fish, and local farms and wineries. When someone in class had mocked Michigan wines, saying they believed it was too cold to grow grapes, Batali had pointedly reminded them that Michigan was on the forty-fifth parallel, just like Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Alsace. Sam had then added that Lake Michigan acted like a big blanket or air conditioner along the state's coastline, and the effect created perfect temperatures and growing conditions for grapes and, of course, apples, cherries, asparagus, and so much more. Batali had winked at her, and Sam had purchased a pair of orange Crocs not long after in his honor.

We went to her favorite restaurant, which looked like a log cabin, and ate lasagna and meatloaf and drank a bottle of Oregon pinot noir. For dessert we bought a flask of bourbon to drink on the balcony of our motel room. Sitting on plastic lawn chairs with the green polyester bedspread over our laps, we tried to figure out which of the dark figures in the sea were pelicans and which were just rocks. At first we had giddy but clear vision, but then we passed the bottle back and forth until the stars and the sand and the water blurred together.

Louis Latour Pinot Noir 2009.

1001 Whiskies, Jura Wine, North American Pinot Noir, The Wines of Burgundy, Wine Atlas of Germany, To Burgundy and Back Again, A Short History of Wine, Cellarmasters in the Kitchen, Reading Between the Vines, and, the lone exception

How’s this Pinot Noir?” I pointed at a name I didn’t recognize. “Is it like a Chianti at all?

Pacalet is a well-known figure in the natural wine scene, but, like many in this unofficial club, he’s not easy to compartmentalize. He believes in natural fermentation without the addition of SO2 or yeasts, but he doesn’t care for biodynamics or organics. “It’s very easy to pay and become organic, not really taking any risks,” he says. “But to make natural wine, you do have to take risks.” Pacalet thinks that the current vine material is weak because of continued asexual reproduction. “The vines are in a degenerate state,” he maintains. “Maybe we can use OGM [genetic modification] in the right way, in the hands of good people, to help here.” Pacalet uses whole bunches in his Pinot Noir fermentations, and he maintains that the stems help capture some of the heat from fermentation. He hasn’t had to regulate temperature for ten years and says that different terroirs ferment at different temperatures. This view accords with the terroir concept at the heart of natural wine. Pacalet is slightly unusual among natural wine producers in that he is working in a prestigious region; many work in less fashionable regions, such as the various appellations in the Loire or in Beaujolais.

I’m just a fifty-two-year-old man. I’m healthy, though I don’t have the stamina I had when I was young. I wouldn’t be able to stand hard physical labor for long. The things I’m good at are selecting a nice Pinot Noir, frequenting some sushi restaurants and others where I’m considered a valued customer, choosing stylish accessories as gifts for women, playing the piano a little (I can sight-read simple sheet music). But that’s about the size of it. If I were thrown into a place like Auschwitz, none of that would help.