In the silence of the drums – the promises of our black pinots
We're in the cellar, the heart beating black pinots 2024.
The lees are there, laid like a thought at the bottom of the drums, and the underdrawing slowly begins, this slow clock movement that makes no noise but changes everything. The wines leave one by one their barrel of breeding to melt in mass, six months of common rest, in the cool silence of the cellar. This is the time when one erases too marked contours, where one makes sure that none of the casks, more talkative or more woody than another, take precedence over one another. We assemble without abrupting, we let the asperties go away, we invite the nuances to extend our hand.
This six-month rest is the time of harmonization of each cuvée, the time when the expression of climate resumes its rights to the effects of container. We look for the place's own voice, rid of the sleeve effects, a pinot who first talks about his land before talking about his barrel. Rendezvous in 2026 for the great oral: it will be time to taste, to check whether the climate has taken over, whether the wine tells what the hillside has blown it.
As the 2024s assemble and pose, the 2025s just begin their deep journey. We sing them, patiently, were after a barrel, as we put whole sentences in a great book that will read later. They will sleep at least a year in the wood, thanks to the slow micro-oxygenation that polishes the tannins, softens the material, rounds the angles without ever turning off the light of the fruit. It's another form of time, where it stops, a long season in which one does almost nothing, if not watch, listen, taste from time to time, and trust the discreet dialogue between the black pinot, the oak and the climate that saw them born.