Gratitude in a Glass

I’ve always loved Pinot Noir from Oregon’s Willamette Valley. There’s a purity to it ripe cherry, gentle earth, a silky grace, that makes each sip feel like a familiar friend. Over the years I’ve come to count on these Pinots for comfort, consistency, and that quiet greatness they deliver.

But 2020 changed everything. The fires across the Pacific Northwest didn’t just scar the land, they marked the grapes themselves. What was once known for clean fruit and elegance now carried whispers of smoke, ash, and resilience. For many winemakers, it was a heartbreaking decision to bottle the vintage at all.

And yet, here I am, pouring a glass of St. Innocent’s Freedom Hill Vineyard Pinot Noir, and feeling grateful.

Because wine is truth. It tells the story of its place, its year, its struggles and triumphs. And this bottle tells a story of survival. That smoky note doesn’t hide the fruit, it reframes it. The cherry is still there, but it now carries the memory of fire. The earthiness has deepened, like soil enriched after a storm.

Some call it “taint.” I’ve started to call it transformation.

Wine, at its best, doesn’t just quench thirst, it opens us up. It reveals layers of flavor and layers of ourselves. This 2020 Pinot reminds me that greatness isn’t always found in perfection; sometimes it’s found in the unexpected. It invites me into another realm of flavor, one that challenges and intrigues, one that makes me pause in gratitude.

Gratitude for the growers who chose to carry forward. Gratitude for the reminder that even in fire, beauty can emerge. And gratitude for how a simple glass of wine can hold truth, resilience, and a whole world of flavor waiting to be discovered.