Aligoté: Burgundy's Underrated Second Grape

Ask anyone about white Burgundy wine, and you'll get one answer: Chardonnay. And rightly so: Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet, Chablis. But there is a second white grape in those vineyards, in the places where Chardonnay just doesn't quite make it. Aligoté. For decades dismissed as the lesser sibling. That's starting to change, and as far as I'm concerned, it's high time.

A relative of Chardonnay, literally

Aligoté and Chardonnay are not competitors but half-siblings. Both originated from a cross between Pinot Noir and Gouais Blanc, a grape variety now almost extinct that was once found everywhere in Eastern France. Gamay and Auxerrois also arose from the same parentage. A remarkably fruitful combination.

In the nineteenth century, Aligoté was still common in the better vineyards, sometimes even planted alongside Chardonnay. It was only after the phylloxera plague, when all of Burgundy had to be replanted, that a real choice was made. And Chardonnay sold better. Aligoté moved to colder, higher, and stonier plots, the land no one else knew what to do with.

The curse of the Kir

Then there's the Kir. After the war, Félix Kir, canon and mayor of Dijon, made the aperitif of white wine with crème de cassis world-famous. Its base was Aligoté: sharp, fresh, and cheap.

That gave the grape two things. Fame, and a reputation it couldn't shake. Because a wine you dilute with blackcurrant liqueur, so the reasoning went, probably isn't much on its own. Nonsense, of course; you chose the sharpest wine precisely because the liqueur is so sweet, but the perception stuck.

One village believed in it

In the village of Bouzeron, in the Côte Chalonnaise, Aubert de Villaine bought a neglected estate in 1973. The same De Villaine who has been co-director of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, the world's most coveted wine, since 1974. He planted not Chardonnay, but Aligoté. And not just any Aligoté.

There are, in fact, two types. Aligoté Vert yields many grapes and thin wine. Aligoté Doré, recognizable by its golden skin when ripe, yields much less and much better. On the limestone slopes around Bouzeron, De Villaine showed what the latter can achieve.

It took until February 17, 1998, but then Bouzeron received its own village appellation. The only one in all of Burgundy exclusively for Aligoté, and which mandates the Doré variety.

What does it actually taste like?

Expect lemon and green apple, some white blossoms, and often a chalky, almost saline undertone. Low alcohol, and firm acidity. Aligoté doesn't embrace you like a ripe Chardonnay does; it makes you sit up straight in your chair.

From good plots, and from a dedicated winemaker, there's more. Something hazelnut-like, a broader palate, and the ability to age for five to ten years. That's when it gets really interesting.

Why now?

Global warming is changing the equation in Burgundy. Grapes ripen earlier and with higher sugars, wines become fuller and more alcoholic, and the freshness that makes white Burgundy so elegant is becoming scarce.

And suddenly, the characteristic for which Aligoté was once dismissed, its unwavering acidity, turns out to be exactly what everyone is looking for. A handful of serious producers have started working with it in recent years. Sylvain Pataille in Marsannay is now considered the specialist, with multiple Aligotés from individual plots, something that until recently was only seen with great Chardonnays.

What do you pair it with?

This is where Aligoté shines. The classic pairing is oysters: the acidity does exactly what a slice of lemon does, but with added flavor.

Furthermore, it's wonderful with escargots in garlic butter, with gougères, with goat cheese, with fried fish, and with a salad with a sharp dressing, which most wines struggle with. Also with asparagus, a dish often difficult to pair with wine.

And that Kir? Go ahead and make it. But taste the wine pure first.

Finally

Aligoté never became Burgundy's prestigious wine, and it won't. But that's exactly what makes it attractive: Burgundian craftsmanship without the Burgundian price, from a grape finally being taken seriously.

If you come across it on a menu or a shelf, give it a try. It's one of the few places in the wine world where you can still discover something that the rest haven't caught on to yet.