The most overused phrase in the annals of wine marketing has got to be “this wine was made in the vineyard.” A close second is probably “our Pinot Noir is made in a Burgundian style.” I’ve managed to avoid both tropes over the course of my career, often over the objections of winemakers who sincerely believe their Burgundian-style wines were born entirely among the vines, not inside a multi-million-dollar, high-tech winery tucked behind the owner’s mansion.

I prefer facts to romantic winegeek conjecture and bloviation. That said, I’ll admit that when I first tasted the 2020 La Lomita “Greengate” Pinot Noir, my immediate thought was, “damn, that tastes freakin’ Burgundian.”

The reason starts with where it’s grown. Greengate Farms sits in a cool pocket of Edna Valley, right where Price Canyon Road dead-ends into Highway 227. Cold Pacific wind and fog spill through the hills from Pismo Beach and funnel directly over the vineyard before dispersing into the valley. That persistent chill stretches the growing season and builds complexity grape by grape. The resulting wine is lighter-bodied and more focused than Pinots from warmer regions, leaning savory rather than overtly fruity. That balance, more than any winemaking affectation, is what tempts )or at least rationalizes) the use of the dreaded “B” word.

This is not the prototypical California Pinot that’s hearty, lusty, and dark-colored. It’s about restraint and the wine’s ability to translate a clear sense of place in the glass. The personality here is easy and coastal, very much in tune with this part of Edna Valley.

The wine is made by Mikey Giugni, a local winemaker and vigneron of no small renown who tends to keep things refreshingly simple, as anyone familiar with his Scar of the Sea wines already knows. His goal is to let the vineyard speak*, and after five years in the ground, the Greengate Vineyard still has plenty to say. Planted to the 2A clone, the fruit naturally skews toward bright red tones and lively acidity. Mikey gives it room to breathe, allowing a faint undercurrent of funk to emerge, which helps anchor the structure as the wine ages in bottle. The result is a lighter-bodied, reddish-hued Pinot with a subtle saline, earthy snap that quietly reminds you how close these vines are to the ocean.

In the glass, the wine really does sing “Edna Valley.” You’ll find strawberries and cranberries, along with something herbal, like walking through the Pismo Preserve after a light rain. Nothing heavy. Nothing forced. Just clean lines and that seamless mix of fruit and earth that this place does so well. A touch of wood spice lifts the aromatics, but never overwhelms the delicate secondary notes still unfolding with time. It’s a wine that rewards attention and a little contemplation, and tastes better when enjoyed over a little time and over a meal.

We managed to snag the last couple of cases available on the planet. This is a wine worth adding to your mental list of memorable wine experiences. At least you’ll have a better idea of what makes Pinot Noir taste “Burgundian.”

*yes, astute readers will notice that this isn’t much better than “our wines are made in the vineyard,” but clichés are popular for a reason!