Musings from the West Side Wine Store
(from one of my previous jobs, yet also my favorite with so many good memories)
About a year ago I realized I was utterly “burned-out” on pinot noir. For some people, this happens and is an understandable palate change on our wine tasting journey. However, for someone working in the wine industry, living smack-dab in the epicenter of Willamette Valley pinot noir country, this was a travesty. I mean, for goodness sake, about a third of our reds at the wine shop are pinot noir because of all the local wineries who harvest the grape. I was backwards. My palate needed help.
I went into rehab (of the wine sort) to get me turned back on to reds. So I spent some time timidly trying out the heftier red wines of our northwest region, and even foreign vintages, delving deeper into the fuller and richer, darker and heavier reds that I couldn’t “handle” during my year-long pinot noir love-affair. I welcomed the change, and appreciated that my nose, tongue, and stomach didn’t reject the more complex reds as before. And I settled into a happy, red routine once more.
Until Tim Wilson came along.