Perhaps you do drink Muscadet, and do so often; that would place you in a savvy lot of folks who’ve found a way to get maximum enjoyment, terroir expression, and sneaky longevity for their white wine dollar. Well played.
For those of you who might wish to join this august group, we present you with this 2012 vintage, single-vineyard stunner from Gadais Père et Fils. That’s right—a ‘cru’ Muscadet, aged on its lees in barrel, with the structure and ageability of a fine Chablis. But because this is the Melon grape and not Chardonnay (and the western Loire, not Burgundy), the wine is scandalously underpriced. It is a true ‘terroir’ wine in that it doesn’t just express soil character but actually transports you to a place—in this case the Atlantic coast of France, with a big tray of oysters in front of you, and a glass of wine like this providing the perfect accompaniment. What I found in this 2012 was not just a bright, pleasant seafood wine, however; I found another level of depth and structure altogether.
And there are all sorts of delicious, geeky details about it to share with you: The Gadais family is wine royalty in the village of Saint-Fiacre, which sits at the convergence of the Sèvre and Maine Rivers—two tributaries of the Loire which define the most desirable territory within Muscadet country. Overall, the Muscadet growing zone extends out in every direction from the coastal city of Nantes, reaching all the way to the ocean (and taking in many broad, sandy plains along the way, from which lots of mass-market Muscadet hails). ‘Muscadet Sèvre et Maine’ is the appellation to look for—it’s further inland, with soils comprised mainly of granite and schist—and ‘Saint Fiacre’ is more precise still, a sub-region of Sèvre et Maine with an especially well-regulated climate (being at the convergence of two rivers moderates the climate and helps protect the vines from frosts).
“Les Perrières” is a south-facing vineyard of weathered granite and fossilized seashells that is (a) one of the original vineyard sites in Saint-Fiacre and (b) solely owned by the Gadais family (aka a ‘monopole’). Today, the Gadais frontman is twentysomething Pierre-Henri Gadais, but Les Perrières was originally secured by his great-grandfather, Louis, during WWI. However, cultivation of the vineyard didn’t begin until after the Second World War, when Michel Gadais (Pierre-Henri’s grandfather) began re-planting the site in the 1950s. Interestingly, Michael Gadais partnered with legendary American importer/wine writer Frank Schoonmaker to bring Gadais Muscadet to the US in the Fifties—today, the Gadais continue to export a wine bearing Pierre-Henri’s name on the otherwise delightfully old-school label held over from the Schoonmaker era.
Les Perrières, despite its more modern look, is from 50+-year-old, bush-trained Melon vines (a note: ‘Muscadet’ is often listed as the grape name, but it is not; nor is it a ‘place’ name—it’s a word that was once used to describe the style of the wine, an anomaly in French wine labeling). It is fermented using only ambient yeasts in a combination of used, 300-liter wood barrels and subterranean, enamel-lined concrete tanks. It spends an impressive four years aging on its lees (the spent yeast cells left over from fermentation) in large, used wood barrels, lending it atypical levels of creamy complexity. Another quirk of this bottling is that it bears the more generic ‘Muscadet AOP’ appellation rather than Saint-Fiacre/Sèvre et Maine—although this 2012 qualifies as the latter, the 2009 did not, because it contained a tiny amount more residual sugar than appellation rules allow. Rather than change the label, the Gadais have chosen instead to focus on the vineyard name rather than the appellation name.
In the glass the 2012 Les Perrieres is a rich yellow-gold with just the slightest hint of green at the rim. On the nose it just jumps from the glass, a heady blast of sea spray starting the proceedings along with aromas of yellow apple, honeysuckle, white peach, white flowers, nori, and crushed stones. The mix of rich, ripe fruit and stony, salty minerality continues on the palate, with a brisk wave of acidity lending structure and focus. It is zesty and electric but also substantial, with great palate weight and persistence. Its depth and diamond-like ‘cut’ reminds of my beloved Chablis, although its sea-spray qualities ultimately pull me back to Nantes. This is the kind of white wine that makes your mouth water and your mind race—is it grilled oysters I want with this? Salt-baked branzino? Grilled octopus? I want all the seafoods, in abundance, and more than one bottle of this (its low alcohol is just one of its many charms). There’s enough structure here to merit a quick decanting, say 30 minutes before service in white wine stems. It is delicious well-chilled, but, as always, I like to let it come up to about 50 degrees to really let the aromatics loose. Since I’m lucky enough to live close to Hog Island Oyster Co. on the northern California coast, I’ll probably take a few bottles over there to enjoy with the freshest catch possible. If that type of option isn’t available to you, here’s a simple recipe to bring out this wine’s best.
