The Wine Fairy

We said “bonsoir” to four from the Loire at The Wine Authority last night. It was a special tasting from the Fournier portfolio: Three Sauvignon Blancs and a Pinot Noir.

All of the wines were brand new from the 2023 vintage. All four were fresh and zippy and ready to pair with summer salads and fry-ups.

Later in this post: Tasting notes, class anxiety, and some wanky reflections on the nature of minerality.

Fournier Père et Fils have been making wines in France’s Loire Valley for five generations. They produce bottles at various price points, from cross-regional blends all the way up to single-parcel Pouilly-Fumé and Sancerre with snazzy gold labels. They have access to many of the best vineyard sites up and down the easternmost part of the Val de Loire and 165 plots within the boundaries of Sancerre AOC itself.

The three white wines from the Central Loire were more similar than they were different–all light-bodied, extremely fresh, and grown on hills of limestone and clay. They are all 100% Sauvignon Blanc and stainless-steel fermented. Still, tasting them one after the other, it was possible to tease out the subtle differences that make the Loire-heads swoon.

First, the value bottle. The grapes for Fournier Sauvignon Blanc ($24) are grown just down the river from the famous town of Sancerre. Pink grapefruit, pineapple, tart green pear, and a brief lip-smacking finish. It’s riper with maybe a bit more body that the other Sauvignon Blancs, and was favored by those whose tastes tend toward the more vibrant tropical-fruit expressions. My wife and I–both unabashed fans of the Marlborough Sauvy B–enjoyed this pour a lot.

Accounting for price, this wine was the winner of the night. Similar in shape but bolder in its performance, it did not languish in the shadow of the more premium Loire village appellations. It was a competent opening act for the blonde diva that is Sancerre Blanc.

Vineyard land in Sancerre is like land anywhere, but worse. As the old quip goes–usually, though incorrectly attributed to Mark Twain–“they’re not making any more of it.”

Sancerre encompasses just 14 small communes and 3 hamlets. Anything labeled Sancerre must come from within the borders of the AOC. Due in part to weather challenges, yields here are often not high. And yet, everybody and their auntie wants to drink Sancerre.

The entire region produces just under 12,000 gallons per year, The Wine Chaser reports. Unbelievable but true: All the white Sancerre destined for all the oyster bars in the known universe would barely fill a modest-sized backyard swimming pool.

That scarcity–and the fact that it’s an ideal table wine–has led to Sancerre becoming very expensive in restaurants. Too expensive, I think, for a light, early-drinking foodie wine. Servers in Dallas have told me that their restaurants, experiencing a run on Sancerre, marked it up to $75 from $50 and it still sold. So then they marked it up to $95 or $120 and it still sells. That’s Bordeaux territory. Stop it–just stop.

Don’t drink wine in restaurants? You’ll still have to pay to get your hands on Sancerre. Retail stores have trouble keeping Sancerre on the shelf at a tenable price because the bulk of the production is snapped up by the fine-dining chains before it even hits these shores.

Too bad for me that Fournier’s “Les Belles Vignes” ($41) was a beautiful wine–my favorite of the night by a small margin. Noticeably green-tinted and savory, with grassiness and stemmy pineapple. Aromas of green guava and the accompanying sort of guava floral musk. Perfectly crisp and dry finish with lemon and grapefruit pith.

Next up was the Pouilly-Fumé ($41). It’s named “Les Deux Cailloux” (“the two pebbles”), a nod to the stony soils and supposed mineral character. Granny Smith apple and classic unripe gooseberry stood out most, although this Sauvignon Blanc showed the least obvious fruit of the three. There’s a faint scent of white rose and very light smoke on the nose only. It’s just a wisp, and I’m not sure I would be capable of noting it if I didn’t already know this was Pouilly-Fumé. But I pointed it out to Sarah and she could swear she smelled it, too.

Finally, it was Pinot time. I’m a red drinker at heart, but the whites were so concise and agreeable that I didn’t pine for red wine or even think about it for the 20 minutes or so it took to do this tasting.

Sauvignon Blanc is so dominant in the Loire Central Vineyards that a lot of people forget that they also grow a little Pinot there. In general, Pinot Noir from this region is simpler and fruitier than Burgundy’s, well-priced and ready to drink up.

Like their Sauvignon Blanc, the Fournier Pinot Noir is bottled under the Vin de France appellation with grapes sourced primarily from the Touraine area. Medium in color and body, it offers up extra-ripe raspberry and vanilla. The palate is tart red fruit–cranberry and lingonberry. It finishes with drying medium tannins that refresh the mouth rather than stick. As it warms up, there’s a pleasant toasted sugar or marshmallow note. Served lightly chilled, this is a clean and approachable red to enjoy with food or without.

One Last Sip

A final note for the road…last night’s tasting came at an opportune moment. To my beginner tastebuds, it functioned as a sort of crash course in minerality.

The Loire Valley has textbook examples of mineral-driven wines. As I work on becoming a better taster, one of the things I’m thinking about–well, struggling with, honestly–is the whole concept of minerality.

I can perceive it. I can describe it. I’ve certainly tasted wines that are just like licking rocks. I just generally don’t notice minerality in the way I notice other things, like fruits. If I know minerality is present (or should be present), I go spelunking into the glass and I find it. Otherwise, it just doesn’t stand out.

Worse, I don’t really know what it is. Minerality is famously hard to originate or define. I sometimes ask wine people for answers and I come up short.

Is it a tactile sensation or is it a flavor? Neither? Both? Most will shrug and say that minerality is “a thing”…and it’s in these here wines, but not in those over there. Okay.

Most vexing is this quote I recently came across in the newest edition of Karen MacNeil’s The Wine Bible:

Minerality, in general, is a metaphor for something not fruit, not floral, nor herbal; and minerality is not the same as acidity.

When I read this, it annoyed the heck out of me. Oh great, now I’m supposed to learn to calibrate my palate for a metaphor?

But I tasted that Fournier Pouilly-Fumé and for a second I felt like I understood. That wine didn’t have much fruit and it didn’t have pronounced aromatics. It wasn’t steered in any direction by acid or sugar or alcohol. It didn’t taste especially like rocks. The expected flinty or smoky aroma, as I mentioned, was so barely detectible as to be doubtable.

And yet, it also didn’t taste like nothing. I’ve had wines that taste like nothing, and Pouilly-Fumé rarely does. The taste of the wine was there–quite assertively there–like an image drawn in negative space.

I’ll admit it: Loire whites have a subtlety that’s often lost on me, and Pinot Noir is far from my favorite grape, but I enjoyed all these wines. Especially the Sancerre–I just don’t want to pay for it! 😂

Wines tasted:

Fournier Sauvignon Blanc (2023)

Fournier “Les Belles Vignes” Sancerre Blanc (2023)

Fournier “Les Deux Cailloux” Pouilly-Fumé (2023)

Fournier Pinot Noir (2023)

Further reading:

Producer website: Fournier Père et Fils

WineChaser: Problem with Sancerre Is…

Review disclosure: I was not compensated or provided any free products for this review (except for the tasting included with my paid membership at The Wine Authority). Opinions expressed on The Wine Fairy blog are entirely my own.