Robert Sinskey Vineyards

Our search directed us into the caves and cellars of such legendary winemakers as Pascale Marchand who was then at the helm of Comte Armand, Christophe Roumier, Jean Meo of Meo Camuzet, Anne Gros, and Francois Millet of Comte du Vogüe, to name a few.

At our first stop, Anne Gros met us at her cellar door. We were dressed as for the first day of school, pencils sharp and notebooks at the ready. The young Anne Gros gave us the once over twice. Her steady gaze suggested suspicion, if not outright contempt. “What do you want to know?” she asked. We wanted to know it all of course, the vineyards, the cellar, the winemaking, everything! Her demeanor softened a bit. Maybe she expected a couple of know-it-all Americans. Instead she found herself in the company of a pair of humble knowledge seekers.
Out to the vineyards we went. Her pace was rapid and her footing was sure. We valiantly tried to keep up without losing our new French loafers, or our pride, in the winter mud. When we finally looked up, we had reached the Mecca of Pinot Noir. We found ourselves standing in the middle of Anne’s Richebourg vineyard! The three of us crouched down as if in prayer, silently watching as Anne fondled a spindly dormant vine. It was there, in that vulnerable position, that she established the pecking order.

“What is the clone and rootstock?” we asked. She hesitated and disdain once again darkened her face. “You ask questions like an American!” she hissed. We then closed our notebooks and decided to experience the visit instead of dissecting it. With notebooks closed and minds opened, we listened to Anne espouse her philosophy of being attuned to the unique personality of the vineyard and the grapes born of it. She lectured on her delicate approach to winemaking versus her brother’s masculine approach and how her straightforward cellar technique enhanced the fruit without masking its inherent character.

We tasted wine from barrel and experienced some examples of perfection. We tasted interesting wines and we tasted wines with technical flaws. All of the wines, whether they were masterworks for the gods or just wine for mere mortals, exhibited characteristics of the feminine side of the grape, each a distinctive family member born of the same parents. We left that first visit exhilarated, yet wanting more.
We happily ate and drank our way through Burgundy over the better part of the next week. Before we knew it, our last day was upon us. Our final appointment was with Francois Millet at Comte du Vogüe. We had seen enough vines at that point, and were anxious to get in out of the cold. After an exchange of initial pleasantries, we descended into the cellar to taste some wine. The first was elegant. Francois became animated as he described it, “Zees wine… zees wine… she is the matriarch, she knows all!” and then the next, “Zees wine, she is the daughter, she is all dressed up, but she has nothing to say!” and then finally, “Zees wine, zees is the bad uncle, no one understands him, but he has a good heart!” There was no technical jargon, no literal tasting descriptions. It was all about the place and the personality of the wine produced from that place. We could go home now. We had found the inner truth of Pinot Noir.