I am an evangelist for Loire Valley’s underrated reds, and I live my truth. If you come over on a Tuesday night wanting wine, there is a more than 60% chance I will pour you a Loire Cabernet Franc, most likely one from Chinon. Sadly, my evangelism, tireless as it is, often feels like a lost cause.

Maybe I shouldn’t be, but I’m often surprised by how unloved Loire Cabernet Franc is. Some of it reflects a lack of awareness, some of it is bias, and some of it is simple snobbery. “Loire reds are one example of a category that receives little affection no matter how often writers tout their value, versatility and deliciousness,” wrote New York Times critic Eric Asimov in 2022.

Chinon is a wine for people who are over the nonsense in wine. Even the best Cabernet Franc retains its signature rustic note—something savory, something earthy. “You want fruit?” shrugs Cab Franc. “Olives and tomatoes are fruits, too.” Great Chinon has juicy berry, great acidity, lively tannins, and unique dark minerality, often with notes of black pepper and graphite (some might say “pencil shavings”), and occasionally a ferrous edge.

Chinon reds have been mostly ignored by an older generation of American wine writers. I reviewed the Loire as a critic, during 2019 and 2020, and one thing I noticed was how woefully those reds are scored. Wine Spectator reported that less than 1% of Loire wines scored more than 95 points in 2019. Compare that to the Rhône, where 11% of the wines score more than 95 points. Meanwhile, nearly 90% of all Champagnes scored 90 points or higher, compared to only 45 percent of Loire wines. What tale do numbers like that tell?

It’s likely generational stubbornness. Boomer and older Gen X critics still love their big, oaky, fruity reds and have only recently, begrudgingly, begun giving top Loire reds their due as upper echelon wines. Many are still skeptical—if not antagonistic—toward wines that lean in a  “natural” direction. Since Loire Valley is an epicenter of natural wine, you’ll find a lot of critics calling certain Loire wines “reductive,” which for some has become a dog-whistle term for wines that don’t smell like fruit bombs. 

Aaron Ayscough, who writes the natural wine newsletter Not Drinking Poison, points out: “Describing things as ‘reductive’ without suggesting why is just a lazy pseudo-intellectual crutch.” If you hear Loire talk in mainstream wine circles, it’s too often centered on the highest-end expressions, such as those from Clos Rougeard. Which are great wines, but they also have crazy price tags on par with top Bordeaux.

Chinon is the largest and best-known of Loire’s red appellations. It encompasses 2,400 hectares and more than 200 producers spread among 18 villages that are situated between the Vienne and Loire rivers. Chinon is known for its hodgepodge of soils, from clay and limestone, with some tuffeau and silex on the slopes, to gravelly and alluvial soils closer to the river. These lower-lying vineyards in the valley, many of which are machine-harvested, are responsible for much of the cheap, thin, too-green wine that gives Cabernet Franc a bad name. But Cabernet Franc on the slopes display far more minerality from the limestone, and produce more full-bodied wines that can age anywhere from five to 20 years, if not longer. “Cabernet Franc didn’t have a good image in the past,” said Matthieu Baudry of Domaine Bernard Baudry, one of Chinon’s top producers. “There was a time when the yields were too high. But today, 90% of the growers do much better yield control, and the wines are much more elegant.”

Frankly, though, there’s too much discussion about how Loire reds have “improved” or are “getting more elegant” or how their “image is getting better.” I’m over such talk, because its whole frame of reference springs forth from overpriced prestige regions. The true beauty of Chinon is that you can drink it every day. For $15 to $25, you’ll find dozens and dozens of wonderful, gulpable—and widely available—reds that pair wonderfully with the foods people actually eat. 

They are wines for pizza and pasta, for those of us eating a more plant-based diet, for spicy foods, for sushi. These are not the wines for a monocle-wearing gastronome who dines nightly on rack of lamb and foie gras. Chinon is for people who don’t need wine to be an oaky raspberry bomb. People who like a Tuesday night walk on the savory side.

Seeking Chinon

2022 Olga Raffault “La Fraich” Chinon ($18)
The first vintage of this new entry-level wine from a benchmark Chinon producer. From young vines, organic, and aged only for six months in stainless steel. It’s a classic vin de soif with great juicy acidity, fresh fruit, and earthy notes. For a step up in elegance, look also for the more ageworthy Olga Raffault "Les Picasses" ($28).

2022 Bernard Baudry “Les Granges” Chinon ($21)
Another outstanding Chinon producer, and another amazing value for such a complex wine. Organic, spontaneous fermentation with native yeasts, and aged seven to 10 months in concrete. Expressive aromas of dried herb and pepper, with swirling fruity-savory notes of blackberry, grilled tomato, black olive, tobacco, and a spicy finish. To level up, look for Bernard Baudry "Les Grézeaux" ($28).

2020 Domaine de la Noblaie “Les Chiens-Chiens” Chinon ($25)
From 30-year-old vines of a lieu-dit that literally means “Dogs-Dogs.” An example of understated oak aging in Chinon (this one spends 12 months in 400-liter neutral barrels). Textured, serious, dark, and chewy with dried herb, plum, black olive, blistered tomato, and even a hint of espresso. Super complex, and spectacular wine for the price.

2021 Domaine Fabrice Gasnier “Les Graves” Chinon ($19)
Bright and fruity, with deeper notes of fresh herbs, cedar, and pepper, from 30-year-old vines grown at this biodynamic estate.

2021 Chais Saint-Laurent “Le Verre en Vignon” Chinon ($15)
Yes, you read the price correctly. I recommend few $15 bottles, but this one is the very definition of a Tuesday night wine. Bright, balanced between fruity and savory, and with all the elements that people love in Loire Cabernet Franc.