In a previous offer, I described my reaction to Chablis as ‘Pavlovian’—which is to say, I literally start to salivate after the first sip. The fact is, we all do. That’s what high-acid wines like Chablis do: they ignite the salivary response and whet the appetite.
What I’ve experienced with Chablis time and again lately is this conviction that it’s really the ultimate “terroir” wine—the most straightforward, recognizable illustration of this romantic (and oft-debated) French concept. I submit this 2014 Chablis from Corinne and Jean-Pierre Grossot as further evidence; this is old-vine, organically farmed Chardonnay with the unmistakable mineral imprint of Chablis, albeit one with a good bit more heft and texture than your typical ‘village’ wine. The combination of precision and pleasure this wine delivers is very hard to match at this price point; German Riesling often gets there, Austrian Grüner, too, but lately, no region has done ‘serious’ for the money quite like Chablis. This is a by-the-case candidate for sure.
Don’t mistake ‘creaminess’ for flabbiness. This is unmistakably Chablis, brimming with acid-driven energy and flinty, palate-etching minerality. But it’s also a generous Chablis, the product of old vines, hands-on organic farming, and a favorable vintage. Village Chablis simply doesn’t get any better: in the glass it’s a classic green-tinged gold with crystalline clarity. While it hasn’t been aged in oak, the nose offers up notes of raw hazelnut, white mushroom, and clotted cream that might suggest oak but are actually products of all that lees contact. The fruit component skews away from the lime-skin austerity of much village Chablis and more in the peach pit, yellow apple, and pear direction. As Chablis goes, it is medium-plus in body, perhaps even more so, and drinks quite well right out of the bottle. Of course, a nice rough decanting makes it even better—give it about a half-hour before serving at around 50-55 degrees, in larger-capacity white wine stems or red Burgundy bowls (our default with glassware always seems to be ‘go big’). The combination of depth and palate-cleaning acidity/minerality here has me thinking of old-school French seafood preparations like sole meunière and the like, where this glistening glass of deliciousness with both complement and contrast the rich sauce. Actually, speaking of rich sauces, here’s another bit of French classicism to try with Grossot’s 2014. I can already taste it, and all I can say is ‘wow.’ I’m confident you’ll feel the same.