Mid-crimson in the glass with the faint bricking that already shows on 2021s — a vintage that came in cool, was hammered by spring frost, and produced wines with more lift than weight. Give it 30-45 minutes in a decanter; modern Burgundy is made reductively and "La Taupe" needs a little air to wake up.

The nose opens on fresh red cherry, wild strawberry, and pomegranate, lifted by a top note of crushed rose petal and a hint of orange peel. With time in the glass, the secondary aromas walk in — wet earth, white pepper, dried tobacco leaf, and a whisper of forest floor — exactly what you want from old-vine Pinot grown next to Pommard. The oak is invisible (10% new, 10 months — restraint by design).

On the palate it's medium-bodied, energetic, and built around acid rather than fruit weight. Red cherry and tart cranberry up front, then a gentle savory pivot — dried herbs, iron, a faint salinity — before fine, chalky tannins grip the finish. The 70-year-old vines show in the length and the seriousness of the structure rather than in concentration; this is a wine of detail and lift, not power.

Finish is peppery and persistent, with a cool mineral echo that lingers longer than the price would suggest. Drinks beautifully now through 2028. Pair with mushroom risotto, roast duck, coq au vin, or a creamy washed-rind cheese — any dish where earth and savory richness need an acid-bright companion to keep the palate fresh.

The verdict: honest, transparent Burgundy. Not a powerhouse, not trying to be. It's the kind of bottle that rewards attention and ruins your tolerance for cheap Pinot from elsewhere.