Mâcon & Spring Fish: A Pairing for the Season

Mâcon & Spring Fish: A Pairing for the Season

There is a moment in early spring when the food on the table starts to change.

 

The braises and the root vegetables and the things that sustained you through winter begin to feel like too much. What the season is asking for instead is something lighter, something that tastes of where we are headed rather than where we have been. Salmon with spring herbs. Pan-seared trout. Halibut with something bright alongside.

 

Mâcon is the wine for this moment. Not the austere, mineral precision of Chablis — that is a colder table wine, a winter wine in its bones. Mâcon is generous and round and just warm enough to feel like spring itself. It bridges the season without forcing the issue. (Pouilly-Fuisse is a higher-end Mâcon. The more detail on the label [longer or more specific], the better the wine, generally)

Why This Pairing Works

Weight matching weight. Spring fish — salmon, trout, halibut — are medium-bodied proteins. Not as delicate as sole or sea bass, not as rich as tuna or swordfish. Mâcon's medium body matches them precisely. A Chablis would feel too lean alongside salmon's richness; an oaked California Chardonnay would overwhelm the fish entirely. Mâcon finds the middle ground.

 

Acidity and richness. Mâcon's acidity — rounder than Chablis, brighter than an oaked Chardonnay — cuts through the natural fat in salmon and trout, refreshing the palate between bites. This is the same function lemon juice performs when squeezed over fish, but with more complexity and without the sharpness.

 

Fruit and herbs. The stone fruit and ripe apple notes in a good Mâcon-Villages or Pouilly-Fuissé harmonise with the fresh herbs — tarragon, dill, chervil, parsley — that suit spring fish preparations. The wine and the seasoning speak the same flavour language.

 

No oak competition. Most Mâcon is unoaked or lightly oaked, which means no vanilla or toast flavours competing with the delicate flesh of the fish. The wine stays clean and complementary rather than dominant.

 

The Fish and How to Prepare It

Salmon. Pan-seared with a herb butter — tarragon, lemon, a little shallot — is the natural preparation. The fat in the salmon makes the Mâcon taste rounder; the wine's acidity cuts the richness and keeps each bite fresh. Pouilly-Fuissé works particularly well here — the limestone mineral note in the wine echoes the oceanic quality of the fish.

 

Trout. More delicate than salmon, with a clean, slightly nutty flavour that suits Mâcon-Villages perfectly. A simple preparation — pan-fried in brown butter with almonds and lemon — is all it needs. The wine should be straightforward and fresh to match the trout's lightness.

 

Halibut. Firm, clean, mild. The least fatty of the three, which means it welcomes a slightly more substantial wine — a Saint-Véran or a Pouilly-Fuissé rather than a basic Mâcon AOP. A spring vegetable preparation alongside — asparagus, peas, spring onions — works beautifully.

 

Avoid: Heavy cream sauces, very spicy preparations, or anything with strong competing flavours (heavy garlic, fermented ingredients). Mâcon is not built to fight. It is built to harmonise.

 

Check Out How We Did Ours: 

 

Pan-Seared Tilapia with White Wine Garlic Cream Sauce

Anne Kjellgren @ Food Wine and Flavor
A weeknight fish dinner thatearns its place at the table. The sauce builds in the same pan — white winelifting the garlic, cream smoothing the edges, lemon keeping it honest. Readyin 25 minutes. Made for a glass of Mâcon.
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Prep Time 10 minutes
Cook Time 15 minutes
Course Main Course
Cuisine American, French

Ingredients
  

For the Fish

  • 4 skinless tilapia fillets
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
  • Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

For the White Wine Garlic Cream Sauce

  • 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
  • 3 garlic cloves grated or minced
  • 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
  • ¼ cup dry white wine Mâcon-Villages or similar unoaked Chardonnay (whatever you're drinking)
  • ¾ cup low-sodium chicken broth or stock
  • 1 cup heavy cream or half and half, warmed
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
  • Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
  • 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley chopped, for garnish

Instructions
 

Instructions

    Prep

    • Warm the cream gently in a small saucepan or microwave before you begin — adding cold cream to a hot pan is what causes curdling. Grate or mince the garlic and set aside.

    Sear the Fish

    • Pat the tilapia fillets dry with paper towels — this is what gives you a proper sear rather than steam. Season both sides generously with salt and pepper.
    • Heat the olive oil and butter in a large skillet over medium heat until the butter foams and subsides. Add the fillets and cook undisturbed for 3 minutes per side, until golden and just cooked through. Remove from the pan and set aside on a warm plate.

    Build the Sauce

    • In the same skillet over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the garlic and sauté for about 1 minute, stirring, until fragrant but not browned. Add the Italian seasoning and stir to toast the herbs for 30 seconds.
    • Pour in the white wine first, letting it bubble and lift any browned bits from the pan. Then add the chicken broth. Bring to a boil, then simmer for 5 minutes until the liquid reduces by about one-third. This is where the flavour concentrates.
    • Reduce heat to medium-low. Slowly pour in the warmed cream, whisking continuously — don’t walk away — until the sauce is smooth and silky. Stir in the lemon juice. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.

    Serve

    • Return the fillets to the pan and spoon the sauce generously over them, or plate the fish and pour the sauce over at the table. Scatter the chopped parsley over the top. Serve immediately with steamed vegetables, rice, or crusty bread to catch every drop of the sauce.

    Notes

    Notes

    • The wine matters here. Use a Mâcon-Villages or any unoaked Chardonnay you’d be happy to drink alongside the dish — the sauce will taste exactly like what you pour into it. Avoid anything heavily oaked, which muddies the brightness.
    • Warm the cream first. Cold cream added to a hot pan is the primary cause of curdling. Thirty seconds in the microwave is all it takes.
    • Don’t rush the reduction. The 5-minute simmer after adding the wine and broth is where the acidity mellows and the garlic sweetens. Cutting it short leaves the sauce thin.
    • To thicken the sauce further: Mix 1 tablespoon cornstarch with 3 tablespoons cold water into a slurry. Add to the sauce and simmer 5 minutes more.
    • Fish options: This sauce works equally well with sole, flounder, or a thin salmon fillet. Adjust cook time slightly for thicker cuts.
    • Swap options: Fresh garlic can be replaced with 1 teaspoon garlic powder. Italian seasoning can be replaced with ½ teaspoon dried thyme — or use fresh herbs and double the quantity.
    Wine Pairing Note This dish was built around a glass of Mâcon-Villages. The same wine in your glass goes into the sauce — a simple principle that connects the plate and the pour in a way that feels inevitable rather than calculated. The wine’s bright acidity cuts through the cream; the cream softens the wine’s edges. Both are better for it. A Pouilly-Fuissé elevates the experience without overcomplicating it. If you’d like something slightly leaner, a Saint-Véran works beautifully here as well.
    Keyword capers, fish, garlic, Lemon, salmon, tilapia, trout, white wine sauce
    Tried this recipe?Let us know how it was!

    What to Buy and How to Serve It

    Mâcon-Villages or Saint-Véran for everyday; Pouilly-Fuissé for the more considered meal

    Serve at 50–54°F — cooler than room temperature, warmer than you'd serve Chablis. This is not a wine that needs to be cold; it needs to be cool enough to stay fresh but warm enough to show its fruit. In practice: thirty minutes in the refrigerator before serving if it has been at room temperature, or fifteen minutes out of the refrigerator if it has been fully chilled.

    The practice this week: pour the Mâcon before the fish arrives. Taste it alone. Notice how much more immediately welcoming it is than the Chablis from last week — if you have a memory of that wine, the contrast will be striking. Then taste it with the first bite of fish. Notice how both settle into each other, neither competing, neither diminishing.

    That ease is what Mâcon does. It is a wine designed to be at the table, not to be contemplated. Pour it. Eat. Enjoy the season.

     

    Coming next Thursday: Burgundy Pinot Noir and roast lamb — a pairing timed perfectly for the Easter weekend. One to plan ahead for.

     

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    Chardonnay’s Full Range: From Chablis to Côte de Beaune

    Chardonnay’s Full Range: From Chablis to Côte de Beaune

    Last week, Chablis. Last Sunday, Mâcon. The same grape. The same region, technically. Almost nothing else in common.

     

    This is the Chardonnay education — and it is one of the most useful frameworks in wine. Once you understand what makes these two expressions so different, you have a lens for reading any Chardonnay you encounter anywhere in the world. New Zealand, California, Australia, northern Italy — the same forces are at work. Climate, soil, oak, winemaking philosophy. The variables are consistent even when the wines are not.

    Today we map the full White Burgundy range. Three points on the compass. One grape.

     

    Point One: Chablis — The Cool, Mineral Extreme

    Chablis sits at Burgundy's northern limit, on Kimmeridgian limestone studded with ancient fossilised oyster shells. The climate is cool — close to Champagne's latitude — and the growing season is short. Chardonnay here ripens slowly, retaining high acidity and producing restrained fruit: green apple, lemon, chalk. Made without oak, or with very old neutral barrels that contribute nothing to flavour, Chablis expresses the ground rather than the winemaking. The result is austere, mineral, and precisely structured. It does not give itself away immediately. It rewards attention and food.

    Jurassic (Kimmeridgian) oolitic limestone, about 155 Mya

    Price range: $18–35 for AOP and Village; $30–55 for Premier Cru; $60–120+ for Grand Cru.

    Two bottle of Chablis, side by side

    Point Two: Mâcon — The Generous, Accessible Middle

    Mâcon is two hours south by car and a different climate entirely. The Mâconnais is warmer, sunnier, with longer growing seasons that allow Chardonnay to ripen fully. Stone fruit, ripe apple, sometimes melon. Rounder acidity. A softer, more welcoming texture that does not require the drinker to meet it halfway. Still made without heavy oak — this is Burgundy, not California — but with a fruit-forward generosity that Chablis never aims for. At the Pouilly-Fuissé level, limestone terroir adds a mineral backbone that grounds the ripeness. The best examples here are genuinely complex without being expensive.

     

    Price range: $12–18 for Mâcon AOP; $15–25 for Mâcon-Villages; $25–50 for Pouilly-Fuissé; $18–30 for Saint-Véran.

     

    Point Three: Côte de Beaune — The Prestigious Pinnacle

    Between Chablis and Mâcon, geographically and qualitatively, sit the great white wine villages of the Côte de Beaune: Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet, Chassagne-Montrachet. These are the wines that set the international benchmark for aged, complex, oak-influenced Chardonnay — not the heavy, butter-and-vanilla style of warm-climate New World Chardonnay, but something more precise and architectural: rich texture from oak ageing and malolactic fermentation, deep mineral complexity from limestone soils, and a fruit profile that moves from fresh citrus and stone fruit in youth to hazelnut, cream, and toasted brioche with age.

     

    Premier Cru wines from these villages — Meursault Charmes, Puligny-Montrachet Les Combettes, Chassagne-Montrachet Morgeot — are the wines that professionals study and collectors cellar. They age for ten to twenty years. They are Chardonnay at its most serious and most rewarding.

    Price range: $45–90 for village level; $80–200+ for Premier Cru; $300–1,000+ for Grand Cru.

     

    The Framework This Gives You

    When you encounter a Chardonnay anywhere in the world, three questions now have meaning:

     

    How warm was the climate? Warm = riper fruit, rounder acidity, more generous. Cool = restrained fruit, high acidity, more mineral.

     

    Was oak used, and how much? No oak or old neutral oak = cleaner, more fruit-forward, more terroir-driven. New French oak = added texture, vanilla, toast, creaminess.

     

    Was malolactic fermentation used? Yes = softer, creamier, lower perceived acidity. No = sharper, leaner, more citrus-forward.

     

    These three variables explain most of what you will taste in any Chardonnay, anywhere. The Burgundy examples are the benchmarks because they are the most studied, the most documented, and the clearest illustrations of each point on the range.

     

    Thursday: Mâcon and spring fish — the generous, round White Burgundy and a seasonal pairing that suits it perfectly.

     

    Next week: we turn to Pinot Noir and the red side of Burgundy. Share your thoughts in the community. 👉 Click here →  Expand Your Palate Community

     

    Mâcon: Where Chardonnay Becomes Generous

    Mâcon: Where Chardonnay Becomes Generous

    Last week: Chablis. Cool, mineral, unoaked, austere. The kind of wine that asks something of you before it gives anything back.

     

    This week: Mâcon. The other end of the White Burgundy conversation.

    map of Burgundy wine regions - with all five subregions

    Mâcon sits in the southernmost white wine district of Burgundy, where the climate is warmer, the growing season longer, and Chardonnay — the same grape, grown less than two hours south of Chablis by car — produces wines of an entirely different character. Generous. Round. Accessible. Immediately welcoming in a way that Chablis is not designed to be.

    This contrast is the Chardonnay education. Not one wine, not one style, but a grape capable of expressing almost the full range of what white wine can do — depending on where it is grown, how warm the climate, what the soil holds, and what the winemaker decides to do or not do in the cellar.

    Mâcon is where you begin to understand that range without spending a great deal of money. And that is one of the most useful things about it.

     

    The Mâcon Appellation Hierarchy

    Mâcon operates on a tiered system that is worth understanding before you shop, because the label tells you a great deal about what's in the bottle.

     

    Mâcon AOP. The broadest designation. Grapes from across the Mâconnais district. Honest, approachable, light to medium-bodied Chardonnay. Ready to drink immediately. The everyday wine of southern Burgundy. Expect $12–18.

     

    Mâcon-Villages AOP. A step up in quality — grapes from one of 27 designated villages known to produce superior wine. The label may simply say 'Mâcon-Villages' or may name the specific village: Mâcon-Lugny, Mâcon-Prissé, Mâcon-Uchizy. More character, more texture, still excellent value. Expect $15–25.

    Mâcon + Village Name. When a producer is proud enough of a specific village to name it, that confidence is usually earned. These wines show genuine terroir character and are worth seeking out. Same price range as Mâcon-Villages but often a notch more interesting.

     

    Pouilly-Fuissé AOP. The prestige appellation of the Mâconnais. Four villages — Fuissé, Solutré-Pouilly, Vergisson, Chaintré — produce wines of genuine complexity and age-worthiness from some of the most dramatic limestone escarpments in Burgundy. Promoted to its own appellation status in 1936, it received its first Premier Cru classification in 2020. Expect $25–50 for good examples; Premier Cru $45–80.

    Saint-Véran AOP. Pouilly-Fuissé's accessible neighbour. Similar limestone terroir, similar style, fraction of the price. One of the best value propositions in all of White Burgundy. $18–30.

     

    What Mâcon Tastes Like

    Where Chablis is restrained and mineral, Mâcon is generous and fruit-forward. The warmer climate produces riper Chardonnay — stone fruit (peach, nectarine), ripe apple, sometimes a hint of melon — with rounder acidity and a softer, more immediately welcoming texture.

     

    Most Mâcon is made without oak, or with very light oak contact, which keeps the wines fresh and clean. At the Pouilly-Fuissé level, some producers use older oak barrels for fermentation or ageing, adding a subtle creaminess and texture without overwhelming the fruit. This is not the butter-and-vanilla California Chardonnay style — it is Burgundian restraint applied to a warmer, riper expression of the grape.

     

    The limestone soils of Pouilly-Fuissé and Saint-Véran add a mineral thread that grounds the riper fruit — a reminder that you are still in Burgundy, still in terroir-conscious territory, even if the wine tastes nothing like Chablis.

     

     

    A Brief Word on the Côte de Beaune

    Mâcon is the accessible, generous face of White Burgundy. To complete the picture, there is a third expression worth naming: the Côte de Beaune, where White Burgundy reaches its most prestigious and complex form.

    Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet, and Chassagne-Montrachet are the three great white wine villages of the Côte de Beaune. Their Premier Cru and Grand Cru wines — Meursault Perrières, Puligny-Montrachet Les Pucelles, Bâtard-Montrachet — are among the most studied and most expensive white wines in the world. They are Chardonnay grown on limestone and clay slopes of extraordinary precision, often aged in French oak, and capable of evolving in bottle for ten to twenty years.

    This is not an everyday wine. It is a destination — the pinnacle of what the grape can achieve in this region. But knowing it exists, and knowing where it sits in relation to Mâcon and Chablis, gives you the complete White Burgundy map. You now have all three points on the compass: the mineral austerity of the north, the generous accessibility of the south, and the prestigious complexity of the Côte d'Or in between.

    Thursday: Mâcon with spring fish — a pairing that suits the season and the wine's generous, round character. See you then.

     

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    Chablis & Crab Legs: When the Wine and the Sea Find Each Other

    Chablis & Crab Legs: When the Wine and the Sea Find Each Other

    Last week was celebratory. Green beer, corned beef, the particular warmth of a holiday table that asks nothing of you except to show up and enjoy it.

     

    This week we slow down. We pour something cool and mineral and precise, and we pair it with something from the sea. The shift is intentional — Chablis is the right wine for this kind of week. It does not announce itself. It arrives quietly, with good acidity and a mineral quality that makes everything around it taste more interesting.

    Crab legs and Chablis. This is one of those pairings that feels inevitable once you understand where the wine comes from.

     

    Why This Pairing Works

    The Chablis appellation sits on Kimmeridgian limestone — ancient seabed geology packed with the fossilised shells of tiny marine organisms, predominantly a species of oyster that existed 150 million years ago. The soil gives Chablis its characteristic saline, mineral quality — what wine writers sometimes call a ‘marine’ or ‘oyster shell’ note, though the mechanism is geological rather than literal.

     

    Crab comes from the sea. Chablis comes, in a sense, from ancient sea. The saline quality in the wine meets the sweet, briny quality of the crab and they recognise each other. This is not a fanciful description — it is a flavour affinity built on shared mineral registers.

     

    Beyond the poetry, the chemistry is equally clear:

     

    Acidity and sweetness. Chablis’ high acidity functions like a squeeze of lemon on the crab — it brightens the sweetness of the meat and refreshes the palate between bites. The wine does what citrus does, with more complexity.

     

    No oak, no competition. An oaked, buttery Chardonnay would compete with crab’s delicate sweetness, drowning the seafood under vanilla and cream. Chablis, made without oak, stays out of the way and lets the crab speak. The wine frames the food rather than overwhelming it.

     

    Weight matching weight. Crab is delicate — sweet, tender, not fatty. Chablis is lean and precise. A full-bodied, high-alcohol white would overwhelm it. The wine’s medium-light body is exactly right for the food.

     

    How to Prepare the Crab

    Simple preparations work best with Chablis. The wine is doing refined work and does not need to compete with heavy sauces or bold seasonings.

     

    Steamed or boiled. The classic approach. Serve with melted butter and lemon. The butter adds richness that makes Chablis’ acidity even more refreshing; the lemon echoes the wine’s citrus register.

     

    Grilled with herb butter. A light herb butter — tarragon, chervil, parsley — adds an aromatic dimension that complements Chablis’ subtle floral notes. Keep the seasoning light.

     

    With a simple aioli or lemon vinaigrette. The acidity in the vinaigrette or the egg richness in the aioli both work well with Chablis’ structure. Avoid anything with heavy cream, tomato, or strong spice.

     

    Avoid: Heavy cream sauces, Old Bay in large quantities, anything very spicy or very sweet. These will diminish the wine’s mineral quality and make the pairing feel muddled rather than clean.

     

    What to Buy

    A straightforward Chablis AOP — not Premier Cru, not Grand Cru — is entirely sufficient for this pairing and sits comfortably in the $18 to $28 range. The Premier Cru wines (Les Foûts, Montée de Tonnerre, Vaillons) add complexity and mineral depth that rewards the investment if you want a more contemplative experience at the table, running $30 to $55.

     

    How to Serve

    Serve very cold — 46 to 48°F. Chablis is one of the few wines that benefits from being genuinely cold rather than just cool. The mineral quality is most pronounced at lower temperatures; as the wine warms in the glass, it opens and the fruit becomes more apparent. That arc — cold and mineral, warming to something slightly more generous — is worth noticing.

     

    The Practice

    Pour the Chablis before the crab arrives. Taste it alone — note the acidity, the mineral quality, the restrained fruit. Then taste it with the first bite of crab. Notice what happens.

    The wine will likely taste rounder and slightly more generous alongside the seafood. The crab will taste sweeter and more delicate. Each makes the other more than it was alone. This is pairing working at its most elegant — not transformation, but mutual amplification.

    That is what Chablis does at a table. It does not perform. It participates.

    Share what you poured and what you noticed in our community, 👉 Click here → Expand Your Palate.

     

    Bon appétit.

     

    Chardonnay: The Foundation Grape, and Why Chablis Is Only the Beginning

    Chardonnay: The Foundation Grape, and Why Chablis Is Only the Beginning

    Chardonnay is the most malleable white grape in the world.

    This is both its gift and the source of considerable confusion. A Chablis and a Napa Valley Chardonnay can be so different in colour, aroma, texture, and flavour that tasting them side by side without knowing what they are, you might reasonably conclude they are entirely different grapes. They are not. They are the same grape, grown in different climates, in different soils, made by winemakers with different philosophies, and they are expressing entirely different things.

    Understanding this malleability is not just an interesting wine fact. It is one of the most useful frameworks in wine education. Once you understand what shapes Chardonnay — climate, soil, oak, winemaking technique — you can apply that same framework to almost any white wine you encounter.

     

     

    What Chardonnay Actually Is

    Chardonnay is a thin-skinned, early-ripening white grape of French origin, almost certainly descended from Pinot Noir through a natural crossing with Gouais Blanc. It is now the most widely planted white wine grape in the world, grown in virtually every wine-producing country. It makes still wines, sparkling wines (it is one of Champagne’s three permitted grapes), and everything in between.

    Close-up ripe bunch of white Grapes on Vine for wine making. Autumn grapes harvest, fresh fruits. Chardonnay, Chenin Blanc, Muscat, Pinot Blanc, Riesling, Sauvignon Blanc grape sort

    Its intrinsic character is relatively neutral. This is the key to understanding Chardonnay. Unlike Sauvignon Blanc, which announces itself clearly with herbal and citrus aromatics, or Riesling, which carries a distinctive floral and mineral signature, Chardonnay is a quiet grape. It does not have a loud voice of its own. What it has is extraordinary responsiveness — to soil, to climate, to winemaking decisions. It reflects its environment with unusual fidelity.

     

    This is why Burgundy chose it. In a region built on the philosophy that place is what matters, a grape that expresses place faithfully is the ideal instrument.

     

    The Two Forces That Shape Chardonnay

    Climate and soil. In cool climates — Chablis, Champagne, Chablis’s near-neighbour regions — Chardonnay ripens slowly, retains high acidity, and produces wines that are lean, mineral, and tightly structured. The fruit is understated: green apple, lemon, sometimes a chalky or flinty mineral note that seems to come from the ground rather than the grape. In warm climates — California, Australia, Mâcon on a warm year — Chardonnay ripens fully, develops richer, rounder fruit (peach, melon, tropical notes), and can feel generous and immediate in a way that cool-climate expressions do not.

    Glass of golden Chardonnay sitting in front of Chardonnay leaves and behind a Chardonnay grape bunch. Chardonnay 

     

    Oak and winemaking. Chardonnay is one of the few white grapes that takes well to oak ageing — it has the body and structure to absorb the flavours (vanilla, toast, spice) and textural influence (creaminess, weight) that oak imparts. When fermented or aged in new French oak barrels and put through malolactic fermentation — a secondary process that converts tart malic acid into softer lactic acid, giving the wine a buttery, creamy texture — Chardonnay becomes a completely different sensory experience from the same grape made in stainless steel with no oak contact.

     

    Chablis: The Unoaked, Mineral Extreme

    Chablis is made without oak, or with very light, old oak that contributes texture without flavour. It is fermented and aged in stainless steel or neutral vessels, which means the winemaking gets almost entirely out of the way. What you taste in a good Chablis is the grape and the ground: the Kimmeridgian limestone and fossilised oyster shells of the Chablis appellation expressing themselves through Chardonnay’s quiet voice.

     

    The result is a wine that can initially seem austere. There is no butter, no vanilla, no tropical fruit. There is instead a flinty, almost saline mineral quality, high acidity, restrained citrus and green apple fruit, and a finish that is clean and long. It is a wine that rewards attention and food — it is not designed to be enjoyed alone as a sipping wine. It is designed to be at a table.

     

    Chablis is technically White Burgundy. It is Chardonnay grown in Burgundy’s northernmost appellation. But it tastes so different from the richer, rounder, sometimes oak-influenced white Burgundies of the Côte de Beaune — Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet, Chassagne-Montrachet — that it occupies its own category in most wine lovers’ minds. The classification is accurate. The flavour profile is its own.

    map of Burgundy wine regions - with all five subregions

     

    What’s Coming Next Week

    Next week we go to Mâcon — the southernmost white wine district of Burgundy, where the climate is warmer, the wines are riper and rounder, and Chardonnay shows a completely different face. Mâcon is where Chardonnay becomes accessible and generous rather than austere and mineral. It is also where it becomes exceptional value — some of the most honest and enjoyable white Burgundy available at $15 to $25.

     

    Chablis and Mâcon are bookends. Same grape, same region in name, almost entirely different wines. By the time you have tasted both, you will understand what Chardonnay is actually capable of — and you will have a framework for evaluating any Chardonnay you encounter anywhere in the world.

     

    This is where noticing begins. Taste a Chablis this week alongside Thursday’s crab legs. Notice what the wine does at the table that it does not do alone. Share what you find in our community. [LINK]