Pinot Noir – two words you’ve been hearing a lot, lately. The delicate grape has enjoyed some serious attention recently, and with the likes of Ard Matthews spouting these sorts of statements wherever he goes, we’re hardly surprised: “I’m convinced that Pinot Noir is one part heat-sensitive grape and 99 parts angel blood. It is the perfect blend between rosé and red, which means it can and must be drunk as often as possible, where possible, if possible.”

We share your enthusiasm, Ard. And while Pinot is a stand-alone grape varietal, and not a blend, Ard’s description does have some merit. The most delicate of all red grape varieties, Pinot is characterised by an achingly beautiful light shade of red. But seeing as we kicked off this whole discussion with a musician, we feel that the best way to describe the merits of this wine are to compare it to song. Here’s Harry Haddon’s take on Pinot if it were an album, from this column:

The Smiths: Meat is Murder

It’s not their most loved album, but it was my introduction to this maudlin, vegetarian cult British band. Okay, vegetarian cult may be pushing it, but then vegetarians make me feel maudlin. The Smith’s melancholic poetics appeal to me; like this from “It’s Just Not Funny Anymore”:

When you laugh about people who feel so
Very lonely
Their only desire is to die
Well, I’m afraid
It doesn’t make me smile
I wish I could laugh

Or, from my favourite track from the albumn, “How Soon Is Now”:

There’s a club, if you’d like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
So you go, and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home
And you cry
And you want to die

Put that shit over the longing, drawing, souless/ful vibrato guitar and you have only one wine to work with: Pinot Noir. The cliched “heart-break grape”. But it’s not for the heart break that it causes wine-makers – sending them into their own version of Morrissey-like despair – but rather (to use another cliche) the iron fist in a velvet glove character the wines are capable of showing. It’s a subtle power, unexpected. It slips down with ease but the flavors, complexity and depth can catch you by surprise.

It’s a weightless intensity that The Smiths exhibit constantly too. They express themselves clearly with the force of an overcast sky. Just as Pinot caresses rather than high-fives, Morrissey’s conviction isn’t felt from his shouting, but in a slow, meaningful eloquent murmur. Pinot’s pleasure doesn’t rely on dark colours, inky fruits or banging tannins, but rather on subtlety, silky elegance: soft skin, lips brushing, a loving whisper.

Well described, Harry.

Tempted? Here’s a local bottle you ought to try.

Why is everyone so obsessed with Pinot? Because it’s delicious.

Brought to you by Pierre Jourdan