The Robin family has deep roots in Chablis, literally and figuratively. Namesake Guy Robin assembled most of the family’s holdings back in the 1960s, and these included significant stands of ‘pre-phylloxera’ vines—i.e., vineyards that were not destroyed during the phylloxera epidemic of the late-1800s. Although the phylloxera ‘louse’—an aphid that destroys the roots of vines—devastated the European wine industry (forcing vignerons to graft vines onto phylloxera-resistant American rootstocks), it didn’t get everybody. Some pockets of Europe were spared, especially spots with sandy and/or volcanic soil, but not exclusively: A good 80% of Robin’s modern-day vines are on their “own,” pre-phylloxera roots. Guy Robin never re-planted them (as so many Chablisienne did) to higher-yielding clones.

 

Despite this, the Guy Robin wines had fallen into mediocrity; one of their US importers dropped them for a time, but the arrival of Marie-Ange Robin in the early 2000s was a huge shot in the arm. A successful fine art dealer in Paris, she returned home to the family estate and began tending their historic vines more naturally, using the lutte raisonnée method (essentially organic, except in emergencies). Some of the Robin holdings, which span five Grand Crus and four Premier Crus, are 80+ years old. Marie-Ange’s 2012 Grand Cru “Valmur” is sourced from vines planted by her family in the 1960s on the pure Kimmeridgian limestone of the slope. It was fermented with only indigenous yeasts in oak barrels, of which 10% were new, and aged for just under a year in the same mix of barrels. 

 

I had an interesting experience with this 2012. In comparison to Les Clos, Valmur—which borders Les Clos to the North—has the same soils of near-pure, Kimmeridgian limestone, but its topography is slightly more variable. Normally it’s Les Clos, with its more purely southern exposure, that I’d expect to be more ‘open’ at this stage of its life, but in Robin’s case it was the Valmur firing on all cylinders at the moment. In the glass it’s a reflective yellow-gold, with an assertive, inviting nose of bosc pear, yellow apple blossoms, citrus peel, lemon curd, dried wild mushrooms, and of course, lots of oyster shells and lees filling out the bouquet. Nearly full-bodied, it blossomed nicely after about an hour in a decanter, but its underlying structural integrity is plain to see. I foresee this wine really peaking between 2020 and 2025; it is a no-brainer choice for laying down, as it will only add layers of flavor and aromatic complexity. Serve this in large Burgundy stems, close to cellar temperature or even a little higher (that’s always my play), with a buttery sole preparation (as in the attached recipe) or some grilled lobster. They call it “Grand Cru” for a reason—don’t let the modest price fool you!