Charles Heidsieck: Chardonnay, Chardonnay, Chardonnay

Reims is not necessarily a city known for its luscious green space. Home to Champagne – “the King of wines and the wine of Kings” – and with an 800-year-old cathedral in the centre of town that, fittingly, used to be the coronation site for the kings of France, tourists don’t typically visit for the greenery and vegetation.

Charles Heidsieck’s five-acre garden in the heart of Reims therefore, is a quite unexpected secret pocket of peaceful verdure. Tucked away just off the appropriately named Rue des Crayères, the stunningly designed garden promenade was recently revamped by landscape architect Eric Lequertier. It sits above the crayères – a vast underground network of cavernous chalk chambers sculpted from ancient Roman-Gallo quarries – and flourishes with the fragrance of more than 200 flower varieties. At night we are told, the soaring trees are illuminated to stunning effect.

The only indications as to what lies beneath are a series of skylights cleverly disguised by blossoming flowerbeds and a mysterious white door, behind which 106 steps descend down into the dark, damp, humid, cold air of the crayères. A series of underground tunnels connect 47 vast and atmospheric chalk cellars in which some of the house’s top cuvées are stored and aged; including Crayère No. 9, which inspired the iconic bottle shape of Brut Réserve.

Amidst the majestic garden, dotted with centuries-old trees and complete with a fountain dedicated to Bacchus (the Roman god of agriculture, wine and fertility), stands a sleek and airy reception venue. The Pavilion des Crayères, with its enormous bay windows overlooking the flora, is where we met Stephen Leroux, managing director of Charles Heidsieck, earlier this summer.

Introducing our tasting, which turned out to be a banquet of Chardonnay, Leroux told us: “the house is biased by Chardonnay and Blanc de Blancs.” The first traces of a Charles Heidsieck Blanc de Blancs are from 1906, though the house aren’t sure whether the wine produced was a Champagne or a still wine Coteaux Champenois. Regardless, their history is certainly intertwined with Champagne’s dominant white grape variety: from ‘Champagne Charlie’s’ mother, an Henriot with significant holdings in the prized Chardonnay region of the Côte des Blancs; to Charles pioneering Blanc de Blancs non-vintage production in the 1970s and 80s, stopping only “when it became fashionable”.

There has been a recent spate of producers releasing Coteaux Champenois – the still wine appellation of Champagne – which, with minimal winemaking interference, are considered the truest expression of the region’s unique terroir. Therefore, to reinforce Charles’ reputation as a Chardonnay savant, the house have jumped on the Coteaux Champenois bandwagon, recently releasing four 2017 Chardonnays from top Côte des Blancs parcels.

“We thought we might release all the individual crus that make up Blanc des Millénaires, then we just decided to make what was interesting,” Leroux explained. Their intention is to release a range of Coteaux Champenois annually, though “not the same villages… it will depend upon the year.” The four wines in this inaugural release are from Villers-Marmery, Vertus, Oger and Montgueux. Each were barrel fermented without bâtonnage (stirring of the lees) and underwent full malolactic fermentation.

The four-bottle case is marketed as an educational tool, though the vintage (2017, a particularly good Chardonnay year) is not printed on the label. To demonstrate their Chardonnay roots, Leroux shared an especially old bottle of Coteaux Champenois found hidden in the cellars, that, although impossible to date, was “likely made in the 60s”. It’s gaudy gold label certainly hinted at it’s mid-century origins, however the wine inside was unfortunately even further past it than the label.

We kick-started our vintage champagne tasting with an original disgorgement of Brut Millésime 2000, which came in the old bottle shape with another now very outdated looking label. Widely considered one of the poorer vintages of the century, Leroux said: “we excused ourselves at the time for producing a 2000, but now we are glad that we did.” Indeed, it is a champagne with a unique character and intriguing evolution, although considerable grape sorting (up to 30-40% of the yield) no doubt contributed to its relative success.

Leroux also generously showed us a few champagnes from the upcoming Collection Crayères, an annual release of old vintages from the darkest depths of the Charles Heidsieck cellars that began in late-2017 (as quick-witted cellar master Cyril Brin says, “we are not a museum”). Originally called Oenothèque – a name ‘borrowed’ by Dom Pérignon, before their late release champagnes evolved into ‘Plénitudes’ – the idea is to showcase a collection of old treasures each year that have been stored under perfect conditions in the crayères.

This September they will launch a range of Brut Millésime 1989, from bottle, magnum and jeroboam(!), and a few older vintages of Blanc de Blancs. The 1989 harvest was an extremely long one, starting on 4th September and not finishing, incredibly, until 2nd November. It was also the fourth largest ever harvest in Champagne, behind 2018, 1982, and 1983. The bottle we tasted was an original disgorgement, while the magnum and jeroboam were both disgorged this year.

While on the theme of vintage 1989, Leroux kindly shared another relic he had rescued from the cellars: a magnum of Mis en Cave 1990. The Mis en Cave (‘put in cellar’) concept was the brainchild of prior cellar master and Champagne legend Daniel Thibault (1947-2002). The idea was that the Brut Réserve non-vintage champagnes would be labelled with the year in which they were blended and bottled (i.e. the year following the base vintage harvest).

Therefore, Mis en Cave 1990 is actually base vintage 1989, blended and bottled the following spring (1990) with 30-35% reserve wines. Leroux wisely pointed out that the average age of the champagne is of course much, much older, considering Thibault and his team would have blended reserve wines from as far back as the mid-1970s. The Mis en Cave labelling eventually phased out in the late 1990s, as the trade found it too confusing (understandably so).