Ever full of surprises, LL brought home a container of squid from the grocery store, already cleaned and ready to be sliced or scored and prepared. She found a recipe on the Internet, and this incredibly delicious, succulent dish — squid cooked with tomatoes, onions and garlic, thyme, saffron and bay leaf, with some black olives and flat-leaf parsley — was the result. We slurped this great stuff up last night and scoured the bowls with pieces of the bread I made yesterday.

I wanted a wine, specifically a chardonnay, that would match the flavorful dish, but I didn’t want a lot of oak; like, when do I ever in a white wine, right? So I opened a bottle of the Ad Lib “Tree Hugger” No Oak Chardonnay 2008, from the Pemberton region of Western Australia. Winemaker is Larry Cherubino — “Little Angel” — one of the best winemakers in Australia today. In addition to his winery, The Yard and the Ad Lib brand, he was until recently winemaker for Merryvale Vineyards in Napa Valley.

Anyway, while the whimsical label and the motto on the back — “No trees were harmed in the making of this wine” — are attractive, the wine in the bottle is even more compelling. The color is pale straw; aromas of roasted lemon and lemon balm, ginger and spice waft from the glass. The wine radiates purity and intensity, offering amazing body, density and character while maintaining a crystalline edge of vibrant acidity and a resonant mineral element that rivals the White Cliffs of Dover. The finish hints at white flowers and orange zest. A beautiful chardonnay. Excellent. About $17, a Great Value. We enjoyed it with the squid tremendously.

Cherubino also makes, in this series, the Ad Lib “Hen & Chicken” Oaked Chardonnay 2008, Pemberton, Western Australia, and though it’s a carefully crafted wine, I didn’t like it as much as the Tree Hugger Chardonnay. The wine sees eight months in new and two-year-old French oak barrels and goes through 80 percent malolactic process. At first, I thought that the wine was fairly Burgundian, with its touches of bacon fat and Parmesan rind, its vivid, ripe pineapple-grapefruit flavors; after a few minutes, it displayed marked smoke and spiciness, with flavors of buttered and roasted peach and grapefruit, and in the end, the oak became a little pushy and strident, where in the beginning I had perceived it as more subtle. If you like a chardonnay with oak that comes to the forefront, you will probably think that this one is Excellent. For me, though, I’ll go with Very Good+, because it’s my palate and my blog and I can do that. About $17.

These wines were imported by Vintage New World, Shandon, Cal.

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Nothing could have been simpler or, honestly, more delicious. For dinner last night, LL sprinkled olive oil and tarragon, salt and pepper on a fillet of steelhead salmon and let it sit for a while. She thinly sliced about a dozen fingerling potatoes and sauteed them in olive oil with celery and green onions and dressed them with a vinaigrette to make a warm salad. We had some baby bok choy left from Chinese take-out the night before. She briefly sauteed the salmon in a cast-iron skillet and then put the skillet with the salmon in a 375-degree oven for about three minutes. The salmon came out with a slight crust but was just at rare in the interior. Perfection.

For wine I opened a bottle of the Natura Chardonnay 2008, from the Emiliana winery in Chile’s Casablanca Valley. This is a cool region, northwest of Santiago, where the climate is appropriate for chardonnay and pinot noir. The Natura wines are made from certified, organically-grown grapes.

The grapes are fermented in stainless steel tanks; half of the wine stays in tank while the other half goes into French and American oak for five months. This is a chardonnay nicely balanced between steely minerality, earthiness and ripe, spicy fruit. It opens with lime, lime peel and limestone that expand into pineapple and grapefruit. The pineapple and grapefruit linger in the mouth, unfolding touches of quince, ginger and cloves and a hint of mango. In a few minutes, the nose offers a beguiling strain of jasmine and honeysuckle. Grounding this range of delights is a persistent chalk-like mineral quality and lively acidity. A light, delicate chardonnay for summer drinking. Very Good+. About $11 to $13, and a Great Bargain.

Royal Imports, a division of Banfi Vintners, Old Brookville, N.Y.

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In the “Wine of the Week” post on March 24, for the Morgan “Highland” Chardonnay 2007, Santa Rita Highlands, I mentioned that I sometimes face the prospect of uncorking a bottle of chardonnay from California with trepidation because I fear finding “an over-oaked, stridently spicy, tropical fruit cocktail laced with meringue and caramel. Yuck!”

This brought a response from Robert Dwyer of The Wellesley Wine Press blog, who said, “Ironically, your description of the ‘Yuck!’ wine aligns almost exactly with one of my *favorites* from last year: here.”

Dwyer asked for some examples of my “Yuck!” chardonnays so he could compare them to the kinds of chardonnays he regards as his favorites. I have tasted a few “Yuck!” chardonnays recently, and I will oblige a fellow-blogger, but first, let’s take this opportunity to examine what makes a “Yuck!” chardonnay.

The main principle involved here is “Purity vs. Process,” that is, the purity of the chardonnay grapes versus the winemaking process that can, potentially, mask and distort the grapes’ character with the extraneous elements that when emphasized or exaggerated produce what to my palate is a “Yuck!” chardonnay, a chardonnay that is — to quote the approving Wine Spectator — “superripe and exotic,” “rich and creamy,” with “buttery pear, fig and toasty oak” and “roasted marshmallow on the finish.” Friends, if I wanted roasted marshmallows, I’d sit by the old campfire and sing “Kumbaya.”

Intrinsically, there’s not a damned thing wrong with barrel-fermentation, oak aging and malolactic fermentation (a misnomer, since the malolactic process has nothing to do with fermentation). These processes can do much to enhance the complexity of a wine, in this case chardonnay, but carried out by rote, or with a sense of entitlement, they can destroy a wine’s nature and turn it into nothing more than a vehicle for transferring wood from the barrel to your mouth. These brief remarks, by the way, greatly simplify the chemical processes and implications involved in oak-aging and malolactic.

When you smell coconut in a chardonnay, that element didn’t come from the grapes; it derived from the lactones in the oak. Vanilla? Nope, that’s not part of the chardonnay grape’s flavor profile; vanilla comes from oak’s phenolic aldehydes. Roasted, dried spice and smoky aspects? Call those qualities volatile phenols. The caramel flavor that so many people inexplicably admire in chardonnay — as far as I’m concerned, you can save the caramel for ice cream — is a product of carbohydrate degradation resulting from toasting the barrels when they’re manufactured.

Any of these qualities deployed with subtlety and nuance can help shape a chardonnay’s pleasurable aspects, but too many winemakers use oak as a sledgehammer to bludgeon the grape into submission in the winery. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard producers assert that the chardonnay grape is a blank slate waiting for a winemaker to write his or her techniques and personalities on the poor grape. Oh shame! As if a great and noble grape like chardonnay required the errant egos of winemakers to give it character.

The bacterial malolactic process, which coverts crisp malic (”apple-like”) acid into softer, creamier lactic (”milk-like”) acid is a naturally occurring — though it’s usually induced — and useful transformation, especially in cooler regions where high acidity can be a problem. Both red and white wines may go through “malo,” though lighter wines intended for immediate consumption are better off without it. The creamy, buttery, butterscotch qualities that so many winemakers and consumers find desirable in chardonnay wines (sounds like birthday cake to me) derive from the malolactic process, in particular from excess diacetyl (2,3-butanedione, used by manufacturers to impart a butter flavor to margarine and baked products).

And while I once heard a winemaker in Australia assert that no great wines could be made without oak, the truth is that some of the greatest white wines — some chardonnays of Chablis, rieslings of Alsace and Germany, chenin blancs of the Loire Valley — often see no oak and damned little malolactic.

Some of my favorite producers of chardonnay in California are Cakebread, Grgich Hills, Oakville Ranch, Hendry, Nickel & Nickel, Morgan, Smith-Madrone, Truchard, Chalone, Landmark and Ridge, all of which manage oak very carefully, tailoring the proportion of new to used barrels to the vintage and the vineyard instead of blindly adhering to a set regime. Now the situation is not a matter of tit for tat; one cannot say literally that one winery’s chardonnay is over-oaked because this amount of new oak was used for a certain number of months and another’s isn’t because a lesser amount of new oak was used for a shorter aging period; it’s not that simple. Yet oak (and malolactic) make a difference, and to my palate a huge difference, between wines that reflect the purity and character of the chardonnay grape and those that turn chardonnay into a Frankenstein monster manipulated into being in the laboratory of the winery.

Image #1, courtesy of pro.corbis.com.
Image #2, courtesy of crafty-owl.com.
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All right, here are links to reviews of chardonnays (under $50) that I thought were extra-terrific, posted on BTYH within the past year: Louis Latour Chassagne-Montrachet 2006 ($46); Louis Latour Viré-Clessé 2006, Maconnais ($18); Louis Jadot Saint-Vèran Domaine de la Chapelle aux Loups 2006 ($19); Domaine Faiveley Mercurey “Clos Rochette” 2006 ($34); Capel Vale Chardonnay 2007, Margaret River, Western Australia ($22); Gundlach-Bundschu Chardonnay 2006, Sonoma Valley ($25); Nickel & Nickel Medina Vineyard Chardonnay 2006, Russian River Valley ($45); Oakville Ranch Chardonnay 2006, Napa Valley ($46); Truchard Chardonnay 2006, Napa-Carneros ($30); Landmark Damaris Reserve Chardonnay 2005, Carneros ($35); The Lane “Beginning” Chardonnay 2005; Adelaide Hills, Australia ($45); Picket Fence Chardonnay 2006, Russian River Valley ($20).
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And here are new reviews of 18 chardonnays from California that I tried over the past six months, with the preponderance in the last two weeks. The order is alphabetical, not hierarchical. Several are ideals; several are “Yuck!” wines; most fall in between.
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Cuvaison Chardonnay 2007, Napa Valley-Carneros. Medium gold color; green apple and peach, pineapple and grapefruit in the nose with touches of woody spice; very dry, good balance between spareness and opulence, pineapple and grapefruit flavors with hints of pear and honeydew; more oak comes up on the finish and more dried spice but leavened by penetrating minerality. Neither the press material that came with this wine (and the next) nor the winery’s website indicate how much oak is embodied in these wines. Suffice to say that this “regular” bottling of Cuvaison’s Napa-Carneros chardonnay is more integrated than the following example. The alcohol content is 14.2 percent. This rates Excellent. About $24.
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Cuvaison S Block Chardonnay 2006, Napa Valley-Carneros. To my palate, this chardonnay is a disaster. Way over-wrought, almost hysterical with oak. All smoke and toast and roasted marshmallow and strident spice. Fruit? Forget it. Alcohol content is 14.5 percent. Avoid. About $36.
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Cycles Gladiator Chardonnay 2006, Central Coast. Surprisingly complicated for the price, with enticing notes of orange zest, dried spice and white, waxy flowers; this is rich and spicy in the mouth, with lightly buttered and roasted grapefruit and pineapple flavors and deftly balanced acidity and mineral qualities for structure and backbone. 60 percent oak, 40 percent stainless steel. Alcohol content is 13.5 percent. Very Good and a Bargain at about $10. Frankly, I would rather drink this cheapo chard than many of the expensive, over-elaborated examples mentioned on this page.
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A filet of Coho salmon, sprinkled with salt, pepper and lemon juice, briefly sauteed and then roasted at 450 degrees, all this adding up to no more than about four minutes, so the fish is rare inside but not raw and slightly crusty outside. Kale sauteed with shallots and then steamed in white wine and agrodolce. (Yes, we’re all about omega-3!) Brown rice. A simple and utterly satisfying dinner.

With some trepidation, I opened a bottle of The Lane “Beginning” Chardonnay 2005, from Australia’s Adelaide Hills. With trepidation, I say, because the label description uses terms like “opulent,” “slippery and sensuous,” “evolutionary new style,” typical code-words, in my sensibility, for “over-oaked” and “undrinkable.”

Fortunately, the wine is anything but over-oaked and undrinkable; it is, in fact, not only compulsively drinkable but is one of the most elegant, high-toned, mineral-dominated chardonnays I have ever tasted. It’s like a great Chablis elevated to the nth power. The first impression is of steely leanness, as if you’re drinking cold metal. It’s amazingly clean, quickly turning floral, but in an austere, almost astringent manner, like some tailored cologne, and then it picks up notes of lime-basil and roasted lemon. As the moments pass, the wine adds some heft, a little fatness to its seductive texture, but it never becomes powdery or opulent, despite what the label states. It retains its ripe and blossomy nature — and there are touches of lime peel and crystallized ginger — but any stab at sensuous qualities is balanced by electrifying crisp acid and a limestone element that seems rooted in the very bedrock of the Cambrian period. This chardonnay, well-stored, should develop power and intensity for six or seven years. Bottled with a screw-cap for easy opening. Exceptional. About $45.

Imported by Tom Eddy Wines, Calistoga, Ca.

This brief foray into the white wines of the venerable house of Louis Latour scarcely taps into the long list of products the company produces. Not counting Beaujolais, but counting Chablis, the Côte de Nuit and Côte de Beaune of Burgundy proper and the Mâconnais and Côte Chalonnaise, Louis Latour produces 64 whites wines and 82 red wines. Of course some of these, from the Grand Cru vineyards and some of the Premier Crus, are made in minuscule quantities and are correspondingly expensive.

Louis Latour was founded as a négociant-éléveur in 1797 and 10 generation later is still owned and run by the Latour family. The company owns 125 acres in Burgundy, of which 71.6 acres are in Grand Cru vineyards, the largest amount of Grand Cru acreage owned by a single house.

If 2005 in Burgundy produced chardonnay-based wines of immense power, dynamism and intensity, the whites of 2006 are more subtle and supple, generally, more crystalline is structure and acidity. Let’s say that the 2005 whites exude glamour, while the 2006 whites are lovely.
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Le Chardonnay de Chardonnay 2006. Here’s a fresh, clean, well-structured expression of the chardonnay grape, originating from the village of Chardonnay in the Mâconnais; apparently, this is where chardonnay was first planted. Made completely in stainless steel, the wine combines crisp acid, a limestone element that feels lacy and almost transparent and spicy citrus flavors; the bouquet includes an afterthought of orange blossom and honeysuckle. This would be a terrific house wine, whether for your house or for a bistro-style restaurant. Very Good, and Great Value. About $16.
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Red wine accounts for about 95 percent of the production of the Beaune appellation, but Louis Latour’s inclusive philosophy practically dictates an expedition into the white wine side. Latour’s Beaune 2006 is an elegant and at this point, almost two years old, a nicely developed chardonnay. The enticing bouquet offers smoke, jasmine, lemon curd and lots of spice, while in the mouth, the wine is quite dry, minerally, vibrant and lavishly oaky; fortunately, there’s also a full complement of buttery, roasted pear and citrus flavors. Drink now through 2011 or ‘12. Very Good+. About $25.
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The Louis Latour Meursault 2006 is a “village” wine, meaning that the grapes come from the vineyards of Meursault that are officially designated but not Premier or Grand Cru vineyards. In difficult years, producers will sometimes de-classify their Premier Cru wines and bottle them as village wines. Ideally, a village wine will embody the typical character of the appellation. This Meursault 2006 certainly captures the richness of typical Meursault, with its buoyant, deep, spicy bouquet and its generous, ripe almost savory fruit, but the wine is also searingly steely and minerally, dry and austere. It could use a year to mellow and then should drink well through 2012 or ‘13. Very Good+. About $39.
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Chateau de Blagny is a monopole for Louis Latour, that is, a rare instance where a producer in Burgundy owns an entire vineyard; usually vineyards are divided among many owners, who sometimes own as little as two or three rows of vines. The Meursault-Blagny Premier Cru Chateau de Blagny 2006 is impressive for its firm structure, its richness and expansive spicy quality and the depth of its fruit, but I found the wine not merely influenced by oak but downright woody. I wouldn’t touch the wine until 2010, hoping it will mellow and find some balance. Very Good. About $55.
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Yes, friends, we have come to a time when a Premier Cru white wine from Burgundy can cost upward of a hundred smackers and more, so let’s have no more of that “what ever happened to the $40 Premier Cru” nostalgia, and anyway, in the case of the blatantly wonderful Louis Latour Meursault-Charmes Premier Cru 2006, let’s pretend that the recent world-wide financial melt-down dealt no fatal blow to our fiduciary prowess. My first note is: “Oh wow!” This is an absolutely lovely and expressive chardonnay, deep, resonant, vibrant and complete. Roasted lemon and lemon curd flavors are imbued with smoke and hints of ripe pear and peach. The wine slides across the tongue in a self-confident display of satiny opulence, but chiming acid and an almost plangent limestone element keep any extravagance in check. Spicy oak comes through on the finish, though ultimately the wine is beautifully balanced and integrated. Drink through 2016 to ‘18 (well-stored). Excellent. About $90.
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Louis Latour’s stylish Chassagne-Montrachet 2006 manages several paradoxes with the handiness of Ricky Jay shuffling a deck of cards while juggling three bowling pins. The wine seems woven of tissues of delicacies that add up to firm size and dimension; it feels weightless at first, but it gathers ripeness and substance; the wood influence is subtle, supple and almost subliminally spicy, yet the wine openly declares its richness; clean, crisp acid and a powerful mineral factor round this impeccably-made village wine off with a touch of austerity. Well-nigh irresistible. Drink now through 2013 or ‘15. Excellent. About $46
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The Louis Latour Chassagne-Montrachet “Morgeot” Premier Cru 2006 offers a generous, seductive bouquet of roasted lemon and lemon balm, jasmine, baking spice and super-clean limestone. This is a graceful wine, substantial without being obvious, dense, supple and silky, and perfectly balanced among ripe, sweet citrus flavors, subtle oak, bright acid and a steely mineral element that deepens as the moments pass. A lovely wine with a hint of seriousness about it. Drink now through 2014 to ‘16. Excellent. About $81.

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Please don’t take the impression from the previous post that I dislike all chardonnays made in California. What I dislike are badly-made wines — that is, thoughtlessly-made and overmanipulated wines — of any grape, genre and geographical origin. The truth is that I like California chardonnays quite a lot, especially when they capture the essence of what I think of as classic California-ness, a variety of bright ripeness and textural power married to clean acidity and a profound mineral element.

There’s no need for the Golden State’s producers to adhere strenuously to Burgundian and Chablisienne models, as glorious as the chardonnay wines from those hallowed region can be, just as there’s no need to suppress the natural exuberance that California’s many and richly varied microclimates often impart, especially in warmer areas. There’s also no need, however, to exaggerate that exuberance through the slavish use of French oak and the (wholly natural but easily subdued) malolactic process that occurs in barrel and transforms crisp malic (”apple-like”) acid to creamy lactic (”milk-like”) acid.

Ripeness is essential, but balance is all.

*Blackstone is known best for inexpensive, competently-made and rather bland wines, especially merlot. Ho-hum, right? So I was surprised and gratified by the quality of the Blackstone Sonoma Reserve Chardonnay 2006, Sonoma County. The color is medium gold; the bouquet offers classic pineapple and grapefruit flavors with a hint of mango and a touch of buttered toast. The wine is vivid and vibrant, immensely flavorful and zinging with acid to compensate for some of the richness of the spice-drenched pineapple and grapefruit flavors. The oak comes up from mid-palate back, lending some austerity and a hint of vanilla to the finish. I would like the wine better if the oak were a bit gentler in the caboose, but I think it shows amazing dedication from the winery. Very Good. About $17. Blackstone also produces a Reserve Merlot 2005 that’s well-worth picking up (Very Good+) at $15 to $19.

*The Raymond Reserve Chardonnay 2006, Napa Valley, is fermented in stainless steel; 70 percent of the wine is aged in new French oak for three months; malolactic is not permitted. The result is a chardonnay of incredible freshness and crispness with just a wisp of spicy oak to bolster the wine’s ineffable prettiness. Green apple, pear and yellow plum scents waft irresistibly from the glass to be joined by a hint of jasmine. In the mouth, the wine sports typical pineapple-grapefruit flavors in a pleasing texture of moderate weight that channels vibrant acid and scintillating limestone elements. Overall, the balance is impeccable. Very good+, and a great candidate for a house chardonnay. About $20, though one finds internet prices as low as $16.

*Markham Vineyards celebrates its 30th anniversary this year; perhaps it has been around long enough to suffer casual neglect, because it’s a winery that often does not receive proper due for making well-balanced wines and selling them for reasonable prices. The Markham Chardonnay 2006, Napa Valley, possesses not only an attractive character but some individuality, especially in a slight herbal aspect unusual for a chardonnay. The fruit is lovely, round and spicy, bright and vivid, laden with peach and roasted lemon twined with jasmine. Snappy acid keeps the wine lively, limestone provides a foundation and oak makes it supple. That oak influence gains through the finish, turning it a little “blond,” a little toasty, but overall the wine is beautifully balanced and integrated. Neither the notes that accompanied the wine to my house nor the winery’s website provides information about the oak treatment, but whatever the case, the wine came out just fine. Excellent. About $21.

*A great deal of care went in to the making of the Handley Vineyard Chardonnay 2006, Anderson Valley, Mendocino County. The grapes are fermented and the wine ages in a combination of new barrels (24 percent), neutral barrels (meaning used several times) and large puncheons. The wine ages a bare three months; 32 percent of the wine goes through malolactic. Here, then, is a chardonnay that’s not only bright, clean and fresh but elegant and finely chiseled. Very ripe pineapple and grapefruit flavors with undertones of apple and smoky pear are nestled in a texture that embodies moderate richness and lushness balanced by snazzy acid and wet stones. This sense of structure carries through to the finish, which, unfortunately, feels a little narrow. Hence a Very Good+ rating for a chardonnay that’s compulsively drinkable. The alcohol level, by the way, is 12.8 percent; when was the last time that you saw a California wine of any kind whose alcohol was that sane? Production is 1,934 cases, from organic estate grapes. About $22.
On the other hand, I would avoid the Handley Chardonnay 2006, from the Russian River Valley. Its towering alcohol content of 15 percent makes it awkward, off-kilter and hot. About $20.

*Wines from Clos du Val are sometimes dismissed by writers with the faint praise of being elegant, and then I have to wonder, “Isn’t elegance better than shameless flamboyance?” A perfect example is the Clos du Val Chardonnay 2006, Napa Valley. This happens to be cast in the Chablis mode: cool, high-toned, packed with slate and limestone, imbued with a clean earthiness that includes a flush of lightly sauteed mushrooms; quite classic. Yet one notices California-like aspects in touches of candied citrus peel and lemon balm, hints of honeysuckle and roasted pear. All of these qualities are impeccably integrated and balanced, in a smooth, yet vibrant and resonant package. The grapes are barrel-fermented, and the wine ages 10 months in French oak, only 20 percent of which are new. This was a great match at our house with fillets of King salmon, given nothing but salt, pepper and lemon juice, and briefly grilled. Excellent. About $24.

*My first note on the Sonoma-Loeb Private Reserve Chardonnay 2006, Sonoma County, is “Whoa, classic California!” It’s a large-framed chardonnay, incredibly powerful, vibrant and resonant and bursting with ripe, spicy pineapple-grapefruit flavors bedded on fathoms of limestone and enlivened by purposeful acidity. This, my friends, is a real mouthful of wine, a personification of glamor, yet it manages, paradoxically, to behave itself and display a little restraint, it holds something back, though the oak comes up like a tide through the finish; still, great balance all around. Drink now through 2012 or ‘13. Excellent. About $25 at the winery, but you’ll find prices around the country up to $33.

*The Hendry Barrel-Fermented Chardonnay 2004, Napa Valley, is just damned superb. (The ‘05 is available now; I haven’t tried it.) Made from vines planted in 1974, the wine is beautifully delineated, packed with detail and dimension and with every resource of vibrancy and resonance that a chardonnay can call forth; the purity and intensity of the chardonnay grape here are so concentrated yet so generous that the wine feels crystalline, otherworldly. It spends 11 months in French oak, 33 percent new, and it does not go through the malolactic process, a factor that lends elements of spice and suppleness without throttling the wine with wood. Power is married to elegance, even whimsy, as roasted lemon flavors take on notes of orange zest and cinnamon toast. This is still young; try now through 2012 or ‘14. Exceptional. Prices range from about $21 to $27, a bargain considering the tremendous quality and character of the wine.

*The Nickel & Nickel chardonnays are barrel-fermented but do not go through the malolactic process. Oak is typically fairly restrained; both of these wines received nine months in French barrels, 42 percent new oak for the Truchard, 55 percent new oak for the Medina. Despite that fact, you feel the oak a bit more in the Nickel & Nickel Truchard vineyard Chardonnay 2006, Napa-Carneros, than in the Nickel & Nickel Medina Vineyard Chardonnay 2006, Russian River Valley, Sonoma County. Still, the Truchard is sleek and smooth, almost lustrous; it’s a golden blond, while the Medina is more platinum. The Medina, my favorite of this pair, reveals tremendous presence and verve, incredible layering of limestone and shale, of rich spicy fruit and vivid acidity; the texture is almost talc-like yet it retains electrifying crispness. Each is a terrific chardonnay, but I give the Truchard a rating of Excellent and the Medina, well, it has to be Exceptional. Drink these now through 2012 or ‘13. Each about $45.

*The Oakville Ranch Chardonnay 2006, Napa Valley, takes apple-pineapple-grapefruit flavors and etches them with crystallized ginger and cloves, then brings in notes of roasted lemon, lemon balm and jasmine. The wine is clean and fresh, chiming with acid and dense with damp limestone; that density and the intensity burgeon in the glass, creating a wine that feels not just lively but alive; you wonder how the bottle contains it. Oak — 11 months, 70 percent new French barrels — is subtly revealed in the wine’s suave suppleness, in unobtrusive layers of spice. This is a very young chardonnay; drink now through 2011 or ‘12. Production is 513 cases. Excellent. About $46.

We see many comments on blogs and in print columns that over-oaked chardonnays are passé, that the American consumer has been weaned away from the smell and taste of butterscotch, crème brûlée and burned toast in chardonnay and that, thank god, producers have come to their senses and begun making chardonnays that emphasize the purity and intensity of the beloved grape.

The most recent wave in this tide of optimism was the comment by The New York Times’ Eric Asimov in his “Wines of the Times” column Wednesday: “Now, the chardonnay producers have pulled back and are making leaner, livelier, non-oaky chardonnays.”

If only it were true.

Here’s an example of what I mean:

Last year Ferrari-Carano Vineyards and Winery released a new line of single-vineyard wines from the Russian River Valley. There are five chardonnays and one pinot noir. I didn’t taste those 2005s, but last weekend I tried two chardonnays from 2006, “Emelia’s Cuvée” and “Fiorella,” released in February. Let me put the straight stuff right up front: Packed and permeated with so much oak that they were exaggerated and cloying, the wines were not merely unpalatable but undrinkable.

The immediate impression of “Fiorella” is of spicy oak, crème brûlée, butterscotch, toasted coconut saturated with vanilla; the oak gets toastier, “where’s the fruit?” ask my notes, and “sorry, this is all about the wood. ugh.”

“Emelia’s Cuvée” begins with baked apple and roasted pear, but takes on notes of crème brûlée (especially the brûlée part), scorched butterscotch and toffee, increasingly toasty oak; the spice turns strident, overpowering; the finish is oddly austere. The whole effect is like drinking baked Alaska, and I don’t mean that in a positive way.

Here’s the oak regimen for these wines: They’re barrel-fermented, go through 50 percent malolactic and rest in barrels, on the lees, for 15 months. The barrels are 30 percent new for Emelia’s and 40 percent new for Fiorella. That’s actually a pretty sensible approach, though 15 months is a serious amount of time for chardonnay to be in wood; perhaps that’s the factor that affected this chardonnays so drastically.

The effort is obviously to make significant wines. The packaging is discreet and elegant; production is limited — 344 cases for Fiorella, 449 cases for Emelia’s — and the price, $36 a bottle, commands respect. Such wines are not inexpensive to produce. French oak barrels cost around $1,000 each nowadays; in Sonoma County in 2006, according to the Sonoma Economics Development Board, chardonnay grapes sold for about $1,500 a ton. Fifteen months in the cellar ties up capital.

Why, though, go to the time and expense to fashion a single-vineyard, limited-edition chardonnay and merely produce an over-oaked, over-ripe and spice-sodden chardonnay that smells and tastes like every other over-oaked, over-ripe and spice-sodden chardonnay made in California? Despite the names of the vineyards on the labels and the name of the grape, these wines are neither about the vineyards nor the grapes; they’re about a process that happens in the winery. Far from revealing the wonderful purity and intensity of which the chardonnay grape is capable, these wines blatantly display the hand of the winemaker.

I know, you’re about to interrupt and say, “Wait a minute, F.K., there are plenty of people who like this kind of chardonnay.”

Yes, I know, and I feel sorry for them. The chardonnay drinkers who dote on the flavors of coconut cream pie, roasted marshmallows, marzipan, vanilla custard and the other dessert-like characteristics that the Wine Spectator heaps high ratings on might as well be drinking over-manipulated viognier or sauvignon blanc than chardonnay; there’s no chardonnay “thereness” there.

Here’s another disappointment.

I am generally a fan of the wines of X Winery, but the X Winery Truchard Vineyard Chardonnay 2006, Carneros, Napa Valley, proved to be a major let-down. It’s rich and ripe from the beginning, flamboyance leading to opulence, “truly full-bodied” say my notes, dense and chewy; classic grapefruit-pineapple flavors quickly expand into toffee and butterscotch and cinnamon toast, with deep-seated toasted coconut. The wine becomes so spicy that it’s off-kilter, strange, almost clueless. Lord have mercy, why didn’t they take a hands-off approach to this beautiful fruit? How do I know that the fruit was beautiful? Because Truchard itself made a gloriously, irresistibly pure and intense wine from the same vineyard. X made 336 cases of this chardonnay. About $25.

Here’s the second installment in a series that examines the real or perceived differences between a winery’s “regular” bottling of a particular wine or grape and its “reserve” bottling. Actually, today we look at three offerings of chardonnay from two far-flung wineries: Rodney Strong Vineyards in Sonoma County and Pierre Morey in Burgundy. This essay does not mean to compare Rodney Strong and Pierre Morey, anymore than you could compare the geography and culture of California and Burgundy.

We expect that a reserve wine merits that designation — which is completely unregulated on local, state or federal levels — because the grapes come from a particularly well-regarded vineyard or section of a vineyard; that the wine may represent the best of the barrels that composed the final blend; or that the wine received special care in the winery; perhaps a combination of all three potential criteria is the case. We assume, for these reasons, that a reserve wine will cost more than a regular bottling, though it often seems that the cost isn’t justified.

Rodney Strong Vineyards produces three chardonnays: 1. the “regular” and widely available Sonoma County version, one of the most reliable chardonnays made in California in its price range, about $15; 2. the Chalk Hill Chardonnay, made from the estate vineyard originally planted by the winery’s founder, Rodney Strong, in 1965, another dependable wine that sells for about $20; and the Reserve rendition, a limited production wine that gets more oak treatment than its cousins, about $35.

*The Rodney Strong Chardonnay 2006, Sonoma County, is partially barrel-fermented (40 percent) and partially stainless steel fermented (60 percent); the 40 percent continues in French and American oak to age for nine months and goes through considerable (84 percent) malolactic conversion, a completely natural process that transforms crisp malic (”apple-like”) acid to lush lactic “(”milk-like”) acid. Sorry to throw all these percentages at you, but I want readers to see how careful handling in the winery can lend character to a basic, inexpensive wine. The result here is a chardonnay that nicely balances clean crispness and vibrancy with moderate lushness and richness for liveliness and a pleasing texture. Scents and flavors of green apple, pineapple and grapefruit are bolstered by hints of dried baking spices and chiseled minerality. You feel the oak a bit in the finish, as a flush of spicy wood. Drink now through 2009. Very Good+, and a Great Bargain. This should be a no-brainer on every restaurant’s wine-by-the-glass program. About $15.

*The difference between the previous wine and Rodney Strong’s Chalk Hill Estate Chardonnay 2005, Sonoma County, lies in the firmness of the body and texture and in a tone of unabashed resonance and vividness. Ninety-seven percent of the wine was fermented in French oak barrels (27 percent new) and went through the malolactic process. Despite what could have been heavy-handed treatment, the wine does not display the flaws that commonly result from so much oak and malolactic — candy-like flavors and over-creamy lushness; instead, this wine reveals admirable balance and integration and lovely suppleness in texture. To classic pineapple and grapefruit flavors, it adds touches of pear and orange rind and limestone; the bouquet opens to offer hints of jasmine and damp rocks, while the wine as a whole delivers notable purity and intensity. Drink now through 2009. Excellent. About $20, a Great Price.

*Back in September, I wrote on BTYH, “Oak should be like shoes of invisibility, transporting one miraculously but nowhere in evidence.” Opposed to that point of view are many winemakers in California who see grapes as raw material upon which to exercise their wills. I’m not saying that Rick Sayre, longtime winemaker for Rodney Strong and now vice president and director of winemaking, believes that necessarily, but he’s certainly an advocate of putting a wine through its paces, oak-wise. Over the years, I have criticized many wines from Rodney Strong, especially reds, for bearing too heavily the stamp of the oaken vision.

That assertion is prelude to the Rodney Strong Reserve Chardonnay 2005, Sonoma County, a wine that is 100 percent fermented in French oak, goes through complete malolactic and ages for 20 months in barrels. This is still a wine of tremendous brightness and vivacity, of vibrant fruit and stirring acidity and minerality, but you smell the oak and you taste the oak from beginning to end and if oak influence had color and voice, you would see it and hear it as well. I know that there are many experienced wine drinkers and reviewers who relish the smell and taste of oak in wine, but I don’t; I think that overt oak character, that presence of toasty oak, is an aberration.

My conclusion, then, is that this wine is not for me, though it possesses sterling qualities, and it qualifies as a reserve wine because it obviously receives singular attention in the winery. Still, I rate it Very Good+. Drink now through 2010 or ‘11. About $35.

For information about the winery, visit rodneystrong.com.

The situation is somewhat different with our three white Burgundy wines. First, as you will see, there are the prices. Second, the term “reserve” is seldom used in France, so what we are looking at here are a “village” wine, a village wine from a designated vineyard (lieu-dit, “named place”), and a Premier Cru wine, all three from Meursault. Unlike nearby (just to the south) Puligy-Montrachet and Chassagne-Montrachet, with which it forms a triumvirate of ultimate chardonnay-dom, Meursault possesses no Grand Cru vineyards, though its Premier Cru vineyards are justly famous. Pierre Morey is winemaker for the distinguished domaine of Olivier Leflaive. The Morey wines are biodynamically grown.

*To be a “village” wine in Burgundy, the grapes may come from anywhere in the named village, in this case Meursault, where vineyards are allowed; that is, they can’t just be grown in someone’s backyard. It happens, in lesser years, that producers will downgrade their Premier Cru wines to village level because the quality is not commensurate with the reputation of the vineyard and producer, but 2005 was a superb year. The grapes for the winsome Meursault 2005 from Pierre Morey derive from rows of vines in three parcels in Meursault owned by Pierre Morey and planted in 1986. Though the wine aged 18 months in oak barrels, it is completely unfettered by perceivable or palpable oak influence, which is relegated to the foundation and framing of the wine rather than contributing overtly to its nature.

The wine smells slightly waxy, with touches of lanolin and sweet white flowers. Flavors of roasted lemon, pineapple and grapefruit are permeated by smoke, limestone and chalk, clove and ginger. Balanced by the ripeness of its fruit and the liveliness of its acid, the wine is very dry, but not austere. The finish is long, stony and spicy. Drink now through 2010 or ‘12, well-stored. Lovely and irresistible as it is, however, it lacks true heft and balletic power, so I give it Very Good+. About — gack! — $75-$90. Yes friends the effect of the euro, the currency named for a whole continent — imagine if we called dollars “North Americans” — certainly makes itself known here. 300 cases imported.

*The Pierre Morey Meursault Les Tossons 2005 comes from a 2.2-acre village vineyard; the name means “the shards,” referring to the fragmented nature of the vineyard’s soil and rocks. The color is pale straw; the bouquet is an adorable weaving of roasted lemon, lemon balm and grapefruit, jasmine and limestone. In the mouth, the wine offers seductive depth and body, pulling you in with its buoyancy and lustrous powers, its flavors of spiced and macerated stone fruit; it’s boldly dense and chewy, almost powdery, an effect off-set by crackling acid and mineral elements. Drink now through 2011 or ‘13, well-stored. Excellent. 200 cases imported.

*Morey-Blanc is the name of Pierre Morey’s negociant side that makes wine from purchased grapes; Blanc is Pierre Morey’s wife’s name. Don’t turn you nose up; most of the important domaine winemakers in Burgundy also produce full lines of negociant wines, principally from long-term contracts with growers they trust. The Pierre Morey Meursault and Meursault Tossons are domaine wines, that is, the vineyards are owned by the company; our third wine is the Morey-Blanc Meursault Boucheres Premier Cru 2005, a negociant wine and an absolutely splendid example of what Meursault Premier Cru from a great year should be.

My first notes were “Wow. Lovely, perfect.” I suppose I could stop there, but I’ll add (anyway) that the wine is crystalline in its ringing acid and pure minerality, that its resonant and vibrant intensity completely imbues flavors of candied ginger, lemon-lime and grapefruit, pear and baked apple. A talc-like scent, a powdery texture and a hint of jasmine remind me of my mother’s dressing table, with its silver compacts and drawers lined with satin, though the finish is like strata of damp limestone and shale. The wine is, in a word, Exceptional, and lovers of white Burgundy or chardonnay in general are urged to buy a case, if they can find one, since only 70 cases were imported. Drink from now through 2012 to ‘15, well-stored. About $110. The importer for the Pierre Morey wines is Wilson Daniels, St. Helena, Cal.

Visit wilsondaniels.com or morey-meursault.fr.

The travel section of Sunday’s New York Times featured a story on that oxymoron traveling frugally in Hawaii. The writer, Matt Gross, said this about Hawaii’s too evident charms: “Hawaii is easy, Hawaii has nothing to hide. Hawaii is, touristically speaking, pornographic in its single-minded baring of its assets.”

Substitute the words “California chardonnay” for “Hawaii” in those sentences and you have a pretty good summation of the general tone of chardonnay wines from the Golden State, many of which make a shameless appeal to be adored, enveloping our senses — or “our every sense,” as PR scribes like to pen — with clouds of cream and butter and cinnamon toast and coconut cream pie and butterscotch and roasted marshmallows and pineapple-upside-down cake. They’re chardonnays for our most basic instincts, a French kiss straight to our simplest sense of gratification: “If it tastes like dessert, it must be good.”

There’s an alternative, often found in actual French chardonnays from the homeland, the cradle of chardonnay, Burgundy, and, I’m happy to report, they don’t have to be expensive (see previous entry). The wine I mention in this post is the Montagny Domaine de la Croix Jacquelet 2005 from the venerable and well-known domaine of Faiveley.

This is not a chardonnay that flatters you and tries to make you like it. In fact, at first I was feeling a little snubbed by this wine, thinking that perhaps its standoffishness was, you know, my fault; I mean, it was like taking in a mouthful of chilled limestone and steel. My famously austere high school geometry teacher was friendlier than this. Gradually, though, as we poured, swirled, sniffed and sipped — we were cooking dinner, a pasta with grilled sausages — the wine gave in slightly, became less distant, more rounded and shapely, though always with this bright edge of minerals etched with scintillating acid. It took on touches of roasted lemon and lemon curd, dried thyme, a bit of roasted hazelnut and a hint, a bare hint, of glazed grapefruit. Richness began to filter back toward us, but in a subtle, constrained fashion; this wine was not going to lose a grip on its purposeful purity and intensity.

Made two-thirds in stainless steel and one-third in barrel, the wine sees no new oak: Yippee! Wilson Daniels, in St. Helena, Ca., imported 900 cases. I rate this chardonnay for grown-ups Excellent. The suggested retail price is $24, though you can find it on the Internet for $19.50. Drink through the end of 2009 with fresh shellfish, grilled trout, quenelles of pike, dry goat’s-milk cheeses.

What a relief to drink a nice, clean, fresh, crisp Saint-Véran after the California white wines I’ve been trying for the past week. I don’t mean just chardonnays, the dead horse that I flog relentlessly, because most white wines from California tend to be bigger, bolder and brighter than their European counterparts, and I’m talking about the examples that I like.

I was fortunate, for example, to taste more white Burgundies than usual last year, mainly from 2004 and 2005, and no matter how rich they were, no matter how deep and layered and textured, none of them was over-wrought, none of them was sodden with the excessive oak and tropical fruit and dessert-like flavors that make many chardonnays from California so cloying that they’re undrinkable. And those are the kinds of wines — at least some of them — that I tried last week, though there were also a few that were beautifully, impeccably made, by which I mean, naturally, that they displayed perfect balance among all elements: fruit, acid, oak; flavor, texture, structure. You can read reviews of 12 California white wines — ratings vary from Excellent to Avoid — here.

Anyway, as I was saying, after some of these hard-hitting white wines, it was almost thrilling to drink a bottle of the Domaine Perraud Saint-Véran Vieilles Vignes 2005 with a simple Italian chicken soup with pasta, spinach and Parmesan cheese and a beaten egg whipped into each bowl. I guess that qualifies as Italian egg-drop soup. The wine combined many elements of lemon — fresh lemon with touches of roasted lemon and lemon curd — along with a hint of jasmine, a touch of spice and loads of limestone that practically vibrated from the vigorous acid that kept the whole package taut and lively. I immediately want to take back the word “taut,” though, because that makes it sound as if the wine were not also dense and smooth and silky, which it certainly was, the point being that as with most enjoyable white wines the slight tug-of-war between crispness and density was exhilarating. This is the second bottle of the Perraud V.V. Saint-Veran ‘05 that we’ve had in three months, and both times it was delightful. North Berkeley Imports, Berkeley, Ca. I rate it Very Good+. About $18-$20.

Here are two more wines from Saint-Véran that I tried last night.

The Saint-Véran 2006 from the Cave de Prissé delivers a bouquet that you want to swim in or dab behind your ears. Apple, pear and lemon, lime peel, limestone and jasmine and a touch of smoke combine for a boundlessly appealing beginning for this wine. It’s crisp and lively and notably earthy and minerally, with roasted lemon and grapefruit flavors set into a bracing and austere limestone and shale structure. In the mouth, actually, this Saint-Véran doesn’t quite live up to the promise of its bouquet, but it’s still an attractive and tasty accompaniment to grilled fish and fresh seafood. William-Harrison Imports, Manassas, Va. Very Good. About $16.

The venerable house of Joseph Drouhin offers a Saint-Véran 2005 that’s unusually bright and lively, with lemon, lime and pear scents and flavors etched with beguiling notes of clove and ginger. The wine is very dry and crisp, quite earthy and minerally, and so pure and intense that it feels crystalline. The finish is stony, steely and austere. Imported by Dreyfus, Ashby & Co, New York. Very Good+. About $12.50-$16.

Saint-Véran, to touch on geographical matters, lies in the southernmost reaches of Burgundy, between Mâconnais and Beaujolais. Only the chardonnay grape is allowed. The wines are best consumed within one to three years of the vintage. Pouilly-Fuissé, which produces wines of greater character and longevity, is a separate appellation within Saint-Véran.