Everything you need to know about Grey Goose.

Ask a French person where they’re from, and you’re unlikely to hear them say France. Each region of the country has an identity far too precise for such a vague answer; instead, they’ll give you a town or city – and expect you to be au fait with its merits, of course. When you consider the paragons of produce that come out of the country, it’s little wonder that each nook and cranny of France has its own identity to be proud of. Grasse has perfume, Champagne has, well, champagne, Alsace and Bordeaux have wine, and Cognac has vodka. Vodka? Don’t worry, we haven’t been drinking (although we did have to sample it, of course). The southwestern region of Cognac, despite also being home to the world’s finest cognac makers (Martell, Hennessy, Courvoisier, Rémy Martin etc), also boasts some nonpareil vodka.

You’ve almost certainly heard of the outlier responsible for the aforementioned French vodka trade, although probably not before in context of its status as being at the forefront of France’s alcohol offering. But Grey Goose, while it may not have the most French-sounding name, is arguably the most French vodka in existence – it is entirely produced, manufactured, and bottled there. Founded under the expertise of the maître de chai Mr François Thibault and the American businessman Mr Sidney Frank, the vodka produced in Cognac has a smell and a taste faintly reminiscent of the wheat from which it is made. It’s worth noting that this wheat comes from Picardy, about an hour north of Paris, which is what is used to make the country’s finest bread – hence the taste.

From there, it is blended and bottled in Cognac. Nestled in the Charente town of Juillac-le-Coq, about an hour’s drive from the city of Bordeaux, is Le Logis, Grey Goose’s somewhat secretive 17th century country house. Last month, we went to visit Le Logis to learn about the manufacturing process of the vodka, how to drink it, and what to drink it with. First, though, a word on the setting itself. Set among the picturesque hills of Cognac, Le Logis is straight out of a Seurat painting, and is best described as a mixture of a cosy home in the country and a master exercise in marketing, with touches of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory – if Mr Wonka packed in the confectionary and went into the spirits business.

The vodka also has flavoured iterations, which it calls “expressions”: la poire, l’orange, le citron. They are naturally made from French ingredients – not simply lemons and pears, but Menton lemons and D’Anjou pears, which come from the respective regions in the country. “Everything is French,” Mr Thibault explains. “And it takes a really long time – years – to develop these ingredients and make them work with the vodka while keeping it natural, but the final product is worth it for the taste.” Use them to give an edge to a martini (always stirred, never shaken, despite what Monsieur Bond may have taught us).

On to food: although you might assume champagne is unbeatable when it comes to complementing oysters, vodka is also a surprisingly good accompaniment. Mr Bruno Gauvain, a fishmonger for internationally renowned oyster brand Gillardeau (which operates on the southwestern coast of France not far from Cognac), says that, “When eating oysters, drinking vodka is a good way of resetting your tastebuds between bites, and gives the opportunity to try oysters with different garnishes.” Mr Gauvain recommends serving the vodka at 0-4ºC, and the oysters at 10-12ºC, with nothing but a small sprinkling of black pepper.

Considering his company’s loyalty to its home country, it’s perhaps appropriate that Mr Thibault’s favourite drink isn’t vodka. “It’s wine,” he shrugs without hesitation. “Even though I’m from Cognac and I make vodka, I am still French, after all.”