My idea of heaven is opening the door of a charming restaurant, Seattle's Corson Building, for example, to find a table full of Chablis awaiting. Much like the photo above. For some, Chablis conjures up memories of extremely large glass bottles with a handle or a giant box of California white wine. Like Burgundy, the good name of Chablis was hijacked and affixed to numerous subpar bottles (and boxes) of plonk. True Chablis, however, is Chardonnay from (and only from) the village of Chablis. It often gets lumped into Burgundy, but its location and soils make it more akin to Champagne or maybe Sancerre. (See this map for an idea of where Chablis lies in relation to Burgundy, Champagne, and the Loire. Note that this map also list Chablis as part of Burgundy.)
The hallmarks of Chardonnay from the cool climate and limestone soils of Chablis are sharp acidity and minerality. Also, the vineyards are strewn with fossilized oyster shells, which many point to the reason why Chablis and oysters are a classic pairing. The notion of tasting minerals in a wine, and how roots transfer soil "flavors" to the vine, however, is somewhat puzzling and controversial. If I grew tomatoes in the soil of Chablis, would people remark how "mineraly" my tomatoes tasted? What do minerals taste like? The French notion of terroir, that certain sites produce wines with a distinct sense of place is possibly nowhere more iconic than in Chablis. But it is certainly not without its detractors; reading an article co-authored by food scientist Harold McGee about, well, tasting dirt, caused a sleepless night for this old-world wine curmudgeon.
Now I've turned a post what should have solely been a love letter to Chablis into a pedantic debate about terroir. So let me get back on track. William Fevre makes exquisite Chablis. Think about all the hallmarks of popular, New World Chardonnay: buttery, oaky, alcohol-laden, soft, and sweet. Then toss them out the window. These are elegant Chardonnays with perfect balance, great acidity, and long, lingering finishes. And talk about amazing food wines! Besides oysters, try Chablis with trout in a little cream sauce, shellfish, or, with the top Grand Cru wines, lobster. I have been fortunate enough to enjoy many of Fevre's top Chablis from numerous vintages and they are simply some of the consistently finest white wines I have ever had. And if that praise seems a bit dispassionate, I'll just sum up with three words: I adore Chablis. (And I was tempted to put an exclamation point there.)
Dear Foodista readers, will you please go out and buy a bottle of Chablis and experience it for yourself? And let me know how you would describe the hallmark flavors of Chablis.
Jameson Fink is a wine buyer at a bustling grocery store in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood. He moved to Seattle from Chicago (where he dabbled in the restaurant and wine industries) five years ago to pursue a full-time career in wine. He’d rather be drinking Champagne and eating popcorn right now.
Comments
March 31, 2010
I'm not really a white wine drinker, but you've convinced me to go out and buy a chablis!
September 15, 2010
[...] there was something Chablis-like about this wine. I’d agree with that in the way where Chablis showed me the pinnacle of Chardonnay’s elegance and grace, Corsica is producing some [...]
February 28, 2011
[...] there was something Chablis-like about this wine. I’d agree with that in the way where Chablis showed me the pinnacle of Chardonnay’s elegance and grace, Corsica is producing some [...]