How I learned to stop worrying and love Chardonnay
Rachel Fellows examines her relationship with Chardonnay and how she's come full circle on a grape that some still love to hate.
Is there any grape so simultaneously adored and abhorred by wine tribes than Chardonnay?
Some people will pay five-figure sums for a single bottle of white Burgundy, yet I’ve known others others feign an allergy to it in restaurants.
A friend of mine even has the acronym ‘ABC’ (Anything But Chardonnay) tattooed on her leg.
What gives?
Six of Rachel’s favourite Chardonnays included below
The actor and the fly
As a ‘neutral’ variety, Chardonnay is a veritable shape-shifter, capable of morphing into a multitude of guises.
It’s like an actor, taking on Shakespearean heroes (enigmatic aged Burgundy) or blockbuster leads (those highly polished types from Napa or Australia, all blond/blonde and bronzed with beautiful teeth).
But it just as easily does arthouse projects that go on to win Oscars (cultish grower Champagnes) or cosy readings that can never be repeated but stay with you for life (any number of small producers from around the world).
It can also blend into an ensemble. Its filmography is terrific.
And yet, everyone keeps banging on about that one time they appeared in Neighbours.
No offence to that television show (RIP) – I grew up watching it during the 1990s, just as opinion about those big, buttery Chardonnays from Down Under was starting to change – for the worse.
And here is the on-going irony, the black fly in Alanis Morisette’s glass.
Despite the years, there remain those who still base their prejudices on those vanilla-filled Aussie Chardonnays whose heyday was over two decades ago, despite its modern form being radically different.
But not me. I have embraced Chardonnay with a passion.
Chardonnay and me
I appreciate a further irony, that I am a single woman nearing 40 with a penchant for Chardonnay. But maybe Bridget Jones had the right idea all along.
In my 20s, I deliberately avoided Chardonnay given its reputation (and Bridget Jones, let’s be honest).
But, by believing all Chardonnay was fat and oaky, my wine options were rather limited when it came to choosing from cheap pub menus.
First there was Viognier, though it’s actually much ‘fatter’ than the naturally acidic Chardonnay.
I hadn’t yet discovered Chenin and am easily bored by Picpoul. I’m not a fan of the grassy, gooseberry wallop of a Sauvignon Blanc and, sometimes, am just not in the mood for the equally distinct Riesling.
Chardonnay feels calmer than aromatic varieties, yet there’s that added frisson of not quite knowing what you’re going to get.
Slowly, I began to realise that (definitely-maybe) I had misjudged it.
In my 30s, I entered the sommelier trade. Suddenly, the wonder of Burgundy was opened up to me and I discovered the veritable wine royalty whose DNA was distinctly, proudly… Chardonnay.
I tasted the most ethereal, pinpointed whites imaginable and learnt that a broad, rounded, oaky white didn’t have to be cloying – it could have oomph and presence without being a soap opera parody.
Chardonnay conveys the boisterous, satisfying opulence of vines grown in Chassagne-Montrachet just as faithfully as the slatey, mineral, rather earnest punch of Meursault; the taut austerity of Chablis in addition to the nectarous notes of Mâcon.
Burgundy’s crus helped me understand how human beings could distinguish wines from plots mere metres squared during blind tastings – a seemingly inexplicable talent before.
A fact of sommelier life, blind tastings force you to turn detective, with Chardonnay the most elusive (but fun) culprit.
It tests your geographical knowledge to catch what the base fruit is saying before deciphering what’s been done in the winery to mask or enhance that.
The why
If the mutually agreed goal of the world’s winemakers is to tell the story of their own, unique place on this earth through their wines, no grape will help you do that with such clarity, or obedience, as Chardonnay.
And the producers act as authors of these stories, imparting as much – or as little – of themselves on the final product as they see fit.
Flavour-wise, the grape dextrously echoes its origins. Cool-climate Chardonnays offer bright, lifted citrus notes whereas those from warmer climates veer towards fruits like pineapple or guava – still with bite, but getting more tropical.
Steering clear of wood will most help retain the pure flavours of what was picked but using oak during fermentation or maturation can add depth, texture and interest.
Just like ‘interesting’ people, however, oak can be a bit much if overdone.
New oak imparts stronger toasty flavours than previously-used barrels (like a teabag on its second or third steeping), and the trick of mass production is to throw in oak chips for quick hits of big flavour but with coarser results.
You can then choose to allow the zingy malic acids to convert into creamier lactic ones for a milkier, more unctuous quality – or not.
And there are other winemaking decisions about whole clusters, lees stirring, fining, filtering, sulphur, ageing – the list goes on.
It’s all a choice. Chardonnay is a double lesson in place and winemaking – nature and nurture.
Multiple options
Claiming to not like Chardonnay these days is like saying you hate a film you’ve never watched.
The only thing ‘ABC’ should stand for these days is Au Bon Climat, the late Jim Clendenen’s Santa Barbara estate producing sublime Californian Chardonnay.
Many are the producers reining in the excess, seeking instead more subtle oak usage, restrained fruit and a delicate touch.
You’ll find stunning examples in cooler New World regions including South Africa’s Hemel-en-Aarde, Australia’s Yarra Valley, Oregon in the USA, and the higher altitudes of Argentina.
Equally, staying in France you can find different personas over in the Jura (a stark, salty kick) or down south (florals and less acidity).
And don’t forget this is one of the triumvirate comprising most traditional-method sparkling wines, where a Blanc de Blancs Champagne will be 100% Chardonnay.
Your options are close to endless.
So while you could call Chardonnay a people-pleaser, I prefer to think of it as an empath: sensitive, powerful, complex, accommodating, considerate; capable of drama, humour, magnetism, candour, nuance and, sometimes, a bit of cheek.
Sounds like excellent company to me.
Some favourite Chardonnays
Moreau-Naudet, Chablis Grand Cru ‘Valmur’ 2022
Burgundy, France
Tanners, £84
Clean Chablis precision with an added thwack of mineral power, like a rod through its back.
Creation, Chardonnay 2022/2023
Hemel-en-Aarde, Walker Bay, South Africa
Majestic, £15.99
Clear Burgundian inspiration means unobtrusive oak, which rounds out the preserved lemon zing.
Kutch, ‘Trout Gulch Vineyard’ 2021
Santa Cruz Mountains, California, USA
Roberson, £61.70
Lifted sherbert acidity alongside delicate white floral notes will quash any clichés about Californian Chardonnays.
Bénédicte & Stéphane Tissot, Côtes de Jura ‘Sursis’ 2018
Jura, France
Lay & Wheeler, £67.40
Saline might in a glass, this savoury example boasts force, wit and wisdom.
Bodega Aleanna, ‘El Enemigo’ Chardonnay 2020
Mendoza, Argentina
Vinvm, £19.50
A full, peachy presence balanced by candied bitterness thanks to time under flor.
Jacques Selosse, V.O. Grand Cru Blanc de Blancs N.V.
Champagne, France
Millesima, £600
Robust and demanding of attention, enjoy rich, honeyed notes and serious style from a modern (grower) Champagne legend.
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