If You Think Chasselas Is a Neutral Grape, You Haven’t Had Albert Boxler’s
I don’t usually write about French wine. There are more than enough people already doing so. However, I do like to make exceptions when I find something weird and/or wonderful. The Albert Boxler Chasselas very much falls into that ‘wonderful’ category. 
Chasselas is one of those grapes I’ve read about but never thought to be able to taste. Until, that is, I found myself in Colmar in France’s Alsace. Buried among the bottles of Riesling, Gewurztraminer, Pinot Gris, and Pinot Noir were a few grapes that often fall into the “other” category. Including this Chasselas. It was probably the least expensive bottle I bought on that trip. But that in no way means it showed the least quality.
Domaine Albert Boxler
The Boxler family came to the Alsace from Switzerland (perhaps explaining the affinity for Chasselas) in 1673. Multiple generations later, Albert Boxler became the first to commercialize wine under the family’s name in 1946. Today, his grandson Jean runs the domaine, but the labels remain the same as those drawn by Albert’s cousin.
The family’s holdings are centered around the ancient village of Niedermorschwihr in the Haut-Rhin, dominated by the imposing granite hillside grand cru, Sommerberg. Which is slightly northwest of Colmar for those of us who don’t have Alsacian commune and grand cru locations memorized. Jean vinifies micro-parcels within this cru separately, producing multiple bottlings of Sommerberg from the different lieux-dits depending on the vintage.
The barley visible shop at the bottom is where I found this wine
After harvest, wines are vinified and aged in old foudres (big neutral wooden casks) in a small cellar underneath the family home until bottling.
Chasselas
Despite sounding like it might be named after the French town of the same name, Chasselas comes from Switzerland. Or does it? Some believe that the grape originally came to Europe from Egypt or elsewhere in the Middle East. Despite these exotic origin theories, DNA research suggests it actually comes from Lake Geneva. It’s now thought to have got its name as Chasselas being the grape’s distribution point throughout France.
In Switzerland, the grape usually goes by a completely different name: Fendant. The name apparently means “splitting”, referring to how the grape splits down the middle instead of being squished when pressed between the finger and thumb.
The grape is easy to recognize in the vineyard with its yellow-green berries that turn russet-colored under the sun. Wine-Searcher says it’s an early ripening grape…but other sources indicate that harvest (at least in Switzerland) doesn’t happen until September or October, so there’s a bit of a disconnect there. Early or late, it is a vigorous and over productive variety that requires control. Quite possibly uncontrolled growing has led to lower-quality and neutral wines, contributing to its poor reputation outside Switzerland.
Chasselas is planted throughout Europe, particularly in Switzerland but also France, Germany, and Austria and can also be found in parts of north Africa and North America.
Albert Boxler Chasselas, 2019
Do I have more pictures of Colmar than I do of this wine? Yes, I do. However delicious the wine was, twas not nearly so picturesque as the city.
Apparently, Chasselas used to be much more common in the Alsace than it is now. Happily, at least Albert Boxler still has some, 13.8 ha in fact! Their vines are old, over 45 years old, and grown organically in granitic soil. Following the domaine’s general practices, the winery hand harvests the grapes and ferments with native yeasts in foudre before bottling without fining.
Sticking my nose in the glass plunged me into a world of lazy, late summer days sitting in drying grass under orchard trees while bees buzz lazily around. Translated into the glass, that hot summer day became a depth of baked yellow fruits with the richness of ripe apricots and fruit blossoms, luscious honeycomb, and honey-soaked nuts. The wine’s gentle viscosity hints at a possible touch of residual sugar as the flavors of honey-coated stone fruit melt into a tangy acidity.
Neutral? Neutral!? Not on your nelly.
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