Just outside the village, Clos Guillot sits on a slope on clay over limestone.
With a glance at the dark purple color—the hue of a Kalamata olive—and a sniff of the nose heavy on dark ripe fruit and black tea, I get a little giddy. I can tell I’m going to enjoy this. The first taste knocks me off my feet. I need to be careful or my prose is going to be as purple as my teeth, because Le Clos Guillot is a powerhouse, an earthy, feral wine that throws sediment like it’s been aging for thirty years. Powerful and tannic, this vintage needs rich food now, or a few years in the cellar.
—Dustin Soiseth, Kermit Lynch