There’s drinking wine, and then there’s drinking Burgundy. This region has intentionally remained untouched for me, because I’m pretty sure once I start down this road I’ll set it ablaze burning tire tracks into the cement and won’t turn back and I’ll be too broke to fix it. I told myself that I’d wait til I’m 45 to even think I have a chance at tasting something truly the essence of Burgundy. But then, I had another thought: all those delicious vintages between 1996 and 2020 will be past their prime….

So I started early.

I really didn’t want to mess this up, with all the years of hype I’d absorbed through random input, namely Bunuel’s “The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie“, wine menus with 20 pages dedicated to the region, Pinot Noir lovers, even the color itself when attached to clothing or makeup….I thought “Jesus, what is it with this stuff?” and like most things that are popular, I brushed it off. Also because, I just didn’t want it to be that good (noted in advance that not ALL Burgundy is delicious).

It was crucial to spend a little extra to taste something true to the land, something local, small production, and preferably from a less popularized town. In the hands of friends, we chose a beautiful bottle made by Ghislaine Barthod, a woman who took her father’s already successful vineyard and elevated its distinction in every regard of production and taste. Her understanding of Pinot Noir is clear, and she lets it express itself clearly, untouched, in the glass. Milk chocolate & violets.

You can just tell. These things, these intuitive things, are the most impressive and joyous when shared. I felt like I was having a conversation with this wine, with Chambol (the commune), and with Ghislaine.

And so it begins.