CHABLIS + SHELLFISH

A classic combo that calls for Michigan wine

By Sharon Flesher

regret that 40 years elapsed from the day I reached legal I drinking age until the evening I first experienced the glory of Chablis with shellfish. But better late than never, if you’ll pardon the cliché. A tasting event at Lake District Wine Co. in Traverse City featured that classic pairing, prompting me to vow never again to consume one without the other. Oh, the promises we make whilst in the throes of passion. It’s not as if I had never before sought the experience. I’ve been on an occasional quest to follow novelist-turned-winewriter Jay McInerney’s advice, “If you’ve never had oysters with Chablis, you should rectify this failure immediately.” The difficulty is that I spend most of my time in the Upper Midwest, where oysters on the half shell are rarely on menus for less than $5. Per oyster. For a North Carolina native reared on happy hours at the beach with freshly shucked oysters for 10 cents each (1980s prices, but still), that’s a bite too salty to swallow. So when my neighborhood wine shop had a tasting event pairing three different glasses of Chablis with shellfish prepared by one of the area’s finest restaurants, Trattoria Stella, I was all in, and it was grand. Now, after getting a hint of the potential, I’ve resolved to resume my quest for the oyster pairing when I’m back in North Carolina during an “r” month. Wine is made to enjoy with food. Well, not all wine, just good wine. I don’t want to criticize anyone’s life choices, so I’ll let New York Times wine writer Eric Asimov do it for me: “All you have to do is remember three words: Wine is food. This may sound absurd to people whose idea of wine appreciation is swilling a little red in a bar while their friends are downing cocktails or beer. It will make no sense to those for whom a glass of wine is merely the reward for arriving home after a hard day’s work, as others may enjoy a Scotch on the rocks or a martini. But wine in the classic sense is not a cocktail replacement. It is an integral part of a meal, served at the table, with food.” — The New York Times, March 6, 2017

When the food and the wine are well-matched, each is elevated, tasting better together than on their own, similar to the way a happy couple might describe their marriage. Sometimes the pairing is so magnificent that it’s a food-andwine power couple. Such is the case of Chablis and oysters, or a Napa cabernet with a perfectly cooked steak, but the experience can be found at a lower price.

One of my favorite food memories is from a village restaurant in southwestern France, Le Cadet de Gascogne in Saint Justin. My plat principal, or main course, was minced local lamb in a white sauce with a risotto cake and grilled veggies, paired with a glass of Madiran from the nearby Chateau d’Aydie. This wine is made from the Tannat grape, which as its name implies, is very high in tannins. On its own, perhaps at a tasting bar, I would’ve considered it good but not remarkable. The lamb would have been delicious but nothing to remember for the rest of my days. Together, they were explosive. Those tannins and the fatty lamb were meant for each other, and it was as if the lamb had been raised in that vineyard, nibbling on the grapes as it fertilized the vines. All for about 25 Euros ($25 at the current exchange),

A confident cook could attempt to duplicate that meal in Michigan. Tannat is not a common grape, but Dablon Vineyards & Winery in southwest Michigan grows it and offers a bottle of its 2017 vintage for $40.

Sometimes, a wine that one doesn’t even like can be elevated by its exposure to the right food. Once I was preparing chicken with cream and mushrooms and consulted the internet for ideas on a wine to pair. The suggestion of an oaked chardonnay stood out because I had one on hand. I retrieved it from the basement, poured a glass and immediately regretted my decision. But the bottle was open, so I served it with the meal and that is the only time I have enjoyed an inexpensive, overly oaked California chardonnay.

Returning to the Chablis, one speculation for its harmony with shellfish is that it is grown on the soil of fossilized oysters. That region of Burgundy was an ancient seabed. Maybe there’s some magic in this association, or maybe it’s all in our heads. I like to imagine that when those vines root in their Jurassic dirt, they absorb ancient memories that we can savor when we taste the wines with food from the floor of the sea.

Michigan may not have the identical terroir of Burgundy, but as anyone who has combed the lakeshore for Petoskey stones knows, we also have sea fossils in our dirt. Many Michigan wineries grow chardonnay, among the most versatile of European varietals as well as being the grape of Chablis. To come nearest the Chablis taste with a Michigan wine, look for one that has not been in contact with oak, perhaps the 2020 Unwooded Chardonnay from 45 North Vineyard & Winery ($28) or the 2021 Unoaked Chardonnay from Verterra Winery ($23). Pair it with steamed mussels, which unlike oysters, are widely available at Michigan markets.

So there you have it, a classic pairing à la Michigan!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Previously a journalist for United Press International (UPI), the News and Observer (Raleigh, N.C.) and Congressional Quarterly, Sharon Flesher now writes independently from Traverse City, Mich. She is an enthusiastic student of wine and she reads too much. Find her on the web at http://twofemmes.com/