At the Loire's mouth, Melon de Bourgogne was replanted en masse after the killing frost of 1709 destroyed the older vineyards, chosen to feed the Dutch trade in white wine and brandy. The variety's neutral frame proved an asset: what Muscadet expresses is method and place — lemon, sea shell and yeast rather than perfume.
The signature is sur lie: a winter spent on the fine lees, often in underground glass-lined vats, then bottling straight off them with a prickle of carbon dioxide still dissolved in the wine. Long dismissed as the cheap wine of the seafood platter, Muscadet changed the conversation with its crus communaux — Clisson, Gorges and their neighbours — where old vines and long lees ageing yield whites of unexpected depth and endurance.