Mirror Image: 2016 & 2017 Chablis
BY NEAL MARTIN |
Chablis articulates terroir with greater transparency than any other wine region. That is quite a bold statement. However, in my view Chablis translates the nuance of land through the prism of wine with a degree of clarity that is its strength and its weakness. Reliant on a single variety from vines precariously perched on the northern latitudinal boundary of viticulture, at constant risk of frost and spontaneous hail, with a proclivity to eschew wood for stainless steel – Chablis gives winemakers little room for error. It is winemaking on a knife’s edge. Yet the benefits are there for wine-lovers to relish. Aromas bursting with scents that evoke images of dew-dappled Granny Smith apples emitting an audible “crunch” when you bite into them. That tang of struck flint. The tension and energy sprung-loaded into great Chablis, the subtleties between various Premier and Grand Crus and mineralité suffused into every mouthful. In talented hands Chablis can satisfy both the senses and the intellect. As I have written before, a friend once opined that Chablis should not kowtow in front of the wine-lover, do whatever it takes to please. “Chablis should be mean,” he averred, implying that the finest Chablis wines are uncompromising, challenging and cerebral. I concur. The world is full of fabulous Chardonnay but only few of them can call themselves Chablis. So why not be different? Why not ask questions? Why not encourage the oenophile to pause and reflect upon what they are drinking? Where else offers a mirror image of land and season like Chablis?
Looking up towards the Grand Cru of Les Clos
I adore Chablis. As soon as I turn off the autoroute and the land spreads out into endless nothingness I feel instantly at ease. I leave my troubles behind. Upon entering the quaint, picturesque and slightly timeworn town of Chablis, I pass by the River Serein and gaze towards the slopes of Grand Crus. I am immediately soothed by the tranquil atmosphere. Everything in Chablis is just bijou. On my first day when I awoke at my hotel, I spent the morning tasting at the BIVB offices and then visited four growers (Raveneau, Eleni Vocoret, Patrick Piuze and Vincent Dauvissat) leaving my car in the hotel car-park because it takes about three minutes to walk from one to another. There’s no other region I think I could do that, and yet Chablis always feels a bit “empty”. It might be contentious to say, but I feel that cognoscenti have overlooked Chablis in recent years, their horizon stretching little beyond Puligny-Montrachet or Meursault. Chablis is so entrenched in people’s minds and so universally recognized, that it is taken for granted, it has almost become a peripheral part of Burgundy. How many pilgrims to the Côte d’Or actually drive up the A6 to Chablis? It only takes an hour.
Why bother?
It will still be there next year.
Chablis has born the brunt of frost and hail in recent vintages and yet it remains one of Burgundy’s most exciting regions. With the spotlight on 2016 and 2017, how did growers cope with the hurdles that Mother Nature threw in their way and how is Chablis changing as a region?
