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.

In the July 31st issue of The Wine Spectator, MaryAnn Worobiec had an article called “Moving Beyond Oak” that discussed the trend toward not only producing chardonnays with little or no oak influence but promoting the wines an “unoaked” on the labels. The trend is a reaction against the tendency of so many wineries in California to heap oak on their chardonnay through barrel fermentation and extended aging in toasty new barrels, thus, some feel, erecting barriers of wood between the drinker and the purity and intensity of the chardonnay grape.

In response to Worobiec’s story, Bob Chick, of Spring, Texas, writes, on the WS’s “Letters” page (September 30): ” … a soft, fruity wine may be good for some, but I’ll stick with my rich, oaky Chardonnays — no matter how hard to find they may become.”

As if the only choices where chardonnay is concerned are Soft and Fruity versus Rich and Oaky. As if chardonnay can’t age for a period in oak and emerge silky and supple and subtle, not oaky or woody, or, as I commonly write in my notes, “Stiff and unwieldy with oak.”

I guess Bob wouldn’t appreciate the chardonnay we had last night at home with our turkey tonnato and a spinach and heirloom tomato salad. It was probably our third bottle this year of Olivier LeFlaive’s Rully Premier Cru Vauvry 2004. It’s a lovely wine but anything but soft or wimpy. In fact, its mineral component, composed of soul-stirring strata of limestone and shale, edges close to being formidable but opts, by the time of the wine’s finish, for crisp elegance. Is there oak? To be sure, but oak at its most flexible and scarf-like, acting as a drape of spice and toast and a hint of cream over the wine’s essential structure of scintillating roasted lemon and lemon curd flavors (flecked with candied lime and a touch of pineapple) and electrifying acid. No, this is not as sizable or deep or layered as its potentially sublime chardonnay cousins from the appellations of Puligny-Montrachet, Chassagne-Montrachet and Meursault a few miles north; I mean, this is the Cote Chalonnaise we’re talking about. But for its location and its price, this chardonnay is close to perfect. Imported by Frederick Wildman & Sons, New York. About $22.

And I suppose that Bob would pay no heed to the Terlato Chardonnay 2005, Russian River Valley, Sonoma County, that we drank with swordfish a few nights ago. This is so clean and fresh, so not seeming to have anything to do with oak or wood or oakiness or toastiness, that it’s well-nigh miraculous that the wine was fermented 100 percent in oak and aged 10 months in French oak barrels, 20 percent of which were new. That takes skill and thoughtfulness in the winery. The wine offers pure and intense lemon scents and flavors with an overlay of pineapple and grapefruit. It’s spare and elegant but infused with the grape’s inner richness in the form of lemon drop and a touch of honey. It opens beautifully in the glass, yet remains vibrant, even taut, with acid and resonant with mineral elements. The alcohol level is a sensible 13.8 percent. A delightful chardonnay with substance and a hint of seriousness. About $24.

So, Bob, you might want to try one or both of these wines to see how pure and intense chardonnay can be without being “oaky.” On the other hand, if you’re happy the way things are, don’t bother. That will leave more for us.

Here’s a test. What kind of wines do these descriptions, from the June 15, 2007, issue of The Wine Spectator, refer to?

1. “Superripe and exotic, with layers of rich tropical fruit and hints of apple, melon and pineapple.”
2. “Unctuous and nectarlike, with layers of ripe apricot, peach, vanilla and butterscotch flavors.”
3. “Rich and concentrated, with a mix of buttery pear, fig and melon flavors.”
4. “Intense, spicy … with lush flavors of butterscotch, ripe peach, honey and golden raisin.”
5. “Ultrarich … with lots of depth and concentration to the fig, toasty oak, hazelnut and melon flavors.”
6. “Spicy and rich, with loads of ripe apricot, candied orange and pineapple flavors.”
7. “Rich, creamy … with vanilla, pear and fig flavors.”
8. “Very elegant … with lots of ripe peach, pear, baked apple and spice flavors.”
9. “A rich … core of pear, apple and spicy fruit, … roasted marshmallow taste on the finish.”
10. “Very spicy … with dried fig, baked pineapple and ripe apple flavors … flanked by floral and creamy notes.”

Ready? The answer is that 1, 3, 5, 7 and 9 describe highly-rated chardonnays from California; 2, 4, 6, 8 and 10 refer to top-rated dessert wines from Austria. That’s right, dry table wines meant to be consumed with food like salmon or tuna and luxurious sweet wines meant to be savored at the end of a meal with dessert (or by themselves) are reviewed in much the same terms.

Perplexed? Puzzled? Nonplussed?

Don’t be. The tasters at WS have always preferred their California chardonnays to be so over-oaked, so super-rich and creamy, so tropical and toasty, so filled with pies and cakes and roasted fruit that to sensible folk they’re undrinkable travesties of what chardonnay should be. But WS gives the high scores; winemakers pay attention; people who like wines that pay homage to the grapes they’re made from lose.

Whew, I’m getting bored with California chardonnay. I’ll stay off this topic for a bit.

No one would deny that Ed Sbragia is one of California’s great winemakers. As if creating the justly well-regarded Beringer Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon and the Beringer Bancroft Ranch Howell Mountain Merlot were not enough, Sbragia has overseen the production of myriad consistently well-made wines for Beringer under many designations and at various price levels.

Most people would deny that Ed Wood (1924-1978) was a great film director; in fact, because of movies like Plan B from Outer Space, Glen or Glenda and Bride of the Monsters, the title typically given to Ed Wood is, “the world’s worst film director.”

So what’s the connection between the talented winemaker and the pathetic auteur? They share a tendency for flamboyance, even outrageousness. Ed Wood’s films are noted for their hot-house over-the-top qualities. Taste one of Sbragia’s Private Reserve Chardonnays — “Chardonnay is one of those varietals that allows me to push the envelope,” he says — and you might agree that as far as oak is concerned, Ed Sbragia can be the Ed Wood of wood.

Sbragia came to Beringer in 1976, serving under the legendary Myron Nightingale. When Nightingale retired in 1984, Sbragia was named Beringer’s chief winemaker. Laurie Hook arrived at Beringer in 1984 as enologist and became Sbragia’s assistant in 1997. She and Sbragia have worked closely together, and when Sbragia was named winemaster in 2000, Hook became chief winemaker. They continue to work together on almost all of the Beringer wines.

I will say frankly that I have quarreled in print over the years with Sbragia’s philosophy of chardonnay grapes and oak treatment, my feeling being that Sbragia, whose use of oak with red wines tends to be quite deft, pushes the oak and barrel treatment too hard in his chardonnays, especially the Private Reserve Chardonnay and the Sbragia “Limited Release” Chardonnay. I have often thought that those two wines epitomized exactly what I don’t like about California chardonnay, that is, full-throttle ripeness and spiciness and tropical character and the panoply of “dessert” effects like creme brulee, brown sugar, caramelized pineapple, coconut cream pie and so on. Yuck and shiver.

So I was intrigued to receive samples of four of the Beringer chardonnays from 2005: the “regular” Napa Valley bottling; the Stanly Ranch Vineyard bottling, the Private Reserve and the Sbragia “Limited Release.” In this quartet, I would be able to trace Sbragia’s ideas about chardonnay and his continuing influence at Beringer. The surprise, as it turned out, was that however brash and flamboyant the Private Reserve and Sbragia “Limited Release” chardonnays were — and lovers of discreet, minerally Chablis would find them odd — they never seemed out of balance or overdone. One would not mistake them for originating anywhere but California, but they certainly embody the Golden State’s sense of youthful vigor, experimentation and “can-do” spirit.

First, the Beringer Chardonnay 2005, Napa Valley, is a wine you could sell the hell out of in restaurants at $8 a glass. This is very pretty, fresh and clean, bursting with spiced grapefruit and pineapple scents and flavors with a touch of mango. The oak is there, and it’s a bit creamy, but the wine is crisp and lively, with fine acid and a tide of minerals to keep the structure essential and pointed. My rating is Very Good+, and at $16 a bottle, the wine represents Good Value.

For four more dollars, you can get the Beringer Stanly Ranch Vineyard Chardonnay 2005, Napa Valley, a wine of lovely breadth and depth, balance and integration. Its shining purity and intensity are supported and supplemented by spicy oak, scintillating acid and a pervasive mineral element that treat the chardonnay grape with respect, so that ripe and moderately lush grapefruit-pineapple flavors (with a touch of orange rind on the finish) are neither too creamy nor tropical in nature. The wine does turn a bit “blond” with oak and a touch austere in its final moments, though this aspect doesn’t detract a whit. It’s a well-made example of the combination of power and elegance in chardonnay and My Favorite of this quartet. About $20. Excellent.

Not surprisingly, with the Beringer Private Reserve Chardonnay 2005, Sbragia and Hook begin to pull out the stops. The juice ferments in French oak barrels, 75 percent new, goes through malolactic fermentation and ages 11 months in barrel, with the lees — the residue of spent yeast cells — stirred once a week. Lees-stirring, called batonnage in French, may contribute to the density of a wine’s texture, making it feel heavier in the mouth, and indeed, this Private Reserve Chardonnay 2005 is thick, dense and chewy, almost powdery in feeling, close to viscous. Flavors of roasted pineapple and grapefruit are permeated by buttered toast and caramel, tangerine and baking spice. The wine is not just rich; it’s super-ripe, extravagantly rich, and you feel the oak in every molecule, yet it’s blessed (just barely) with the acid and mineral qualities to keep it balanced. Almost reluctantly, I’ll give this an Excellent rating. About $35.

As I expected, the Beringer Sbragia Limited-Released Chardonnay 2005 was the most extravagant, the most flamboyant of these chardonnays, the one that took the most risks of winemaker manipulation away from the purity and intensity of the grapes, yet like many a thrill — filching a packet of Post-It notes from the company storeroom, watching Nicole Kidman in a really bad movie — there’s something titillatingly illicit and decadent about it. This is, if it were possible, even richer, more viscous, spicier, more tinged with toast and caramel and the blondness of oak that the Private Reserve Chardonnay ‘05, the pineapple-grapefruit flavors — pineapple upside-down cake, roasted grapefruit — close to exotic. And yet, and it’s a big “and yet,” the wine is not tropical, it doesn’t taste like coconut meringue pie, it manages to stay balanced through the essential infusion of crisp acid and mineral qualities. Whew, it’s exhausting to taste and would be difficult to match with food, but, once again, a reluctant Excellent. Why reluctant? Because I think the sort of manipulation that Sbragia exercises in the winery, to which he cheerfully admits, runs counter to what the vineyard and the grape would dictate.

Coincidentally, I had a bottle of the Sbragia Family Vineyards Home Ranch Chardonnay 2005, from Dry Creek Valley in Sonoma County. This is Sbragia’s own venture, a real family concern, separate from Beringer; his winemaking partner here is his son Adam.

Sbragia asserts that the wines from Sbragia Family Vineyards “are intensely personal, an expression not only of terroir but of my family’s winemaking heritage.” Be that as it may, I found this chardonnay dauntlessly over-the-top in every sense and an expression not of terroir — all that seems to have been wrung out of it — but, first, of alcohol. The alcohol level for this wine is 15.6 percent, according to the information sheet, or 15.9 percent, according to the label. In either case, that much alcohol in a white table wine is ludicrous, resulting in a chardonnay that’s hot, harsh and strident. The wine is certainly flamboyantly ripe with pineapple-grapefruit flavors touched with macerated tangerine, pears and apricots, but its second expression is of oak; the wine is aggressively spicy, so toasty and caramelly that it tastes like toffee left too long in the pan. It is, in effect, a monster created in the laboratory, a fantasy power-trip of a chardonnay that Ed Wood would understand. The Wine Spectator rated this wine 92, but then those panelists, with their incurable California palates, love chardonnays that taste like the dessert trolley at a Continental restaurant.

Image of Ed Sbragia from beringer.com. Image of Ed Wood from imgsearch.com.

And expensive, but we can dream, can’t we?

When I was in New York two weeks ago, I was invited to a tasting that debuted the splendid 2005 vintage for Faiveley, the venerable Burgundy house — founded in 1825 and still in the same family — with enviable holdings in Premier Cru and Grand Cru vineyards up and down the Cote d’Or. The selection of new wines was select indeed: Chablis Les Clos Grand Cru 2005; Corton-Charlemagne Grand Cru ‘05; Nuits-Saint-George “Les Saint-Georges Premier Cru ‘05; Gevrey-Chamberton “Clos de Beze” Grand Cru ‘05; Chambolle-Musigny “La Combe d’Orveau” Premier Cru ‘05; and Corton “Clos de Cortons Faiveley” Grand Cru Monopole ‘05. I won’t reveal the prices or availability yet.

The event took place in the new and elegant Gordon Ramsey restaurant in the London hotel and featured exquisite hors d’oeuvres and a horde of well-dressed people clamoring for, jostling for and even demanding sips of wine. Well, they were great sips.

We wet our whistles with a glass of Faiveley’s white Mercurey “Clos Rochette” Monopole 2004 — “monopole” means a rare instance in Burgundy when a house owns an entire vineyard — a tremendously clean and fresh chardonnay, very earthy and bracingly minerally, like drinking liquid limestone electrified by vibrant acid, with delicious roasted lemon and lemon curd flavors nestled in a texture that was taut yet almost talc-like. A lovely wine that costs about $24 a bottle. While you’re saving your pennies for the following wines or trying to float a loan, you would be happy knowing you had scored a coup with this bargain. 600 cases imported. (The importer is Wilson-Daniels in Napa Ca.)
OK, here are six Big Guns.

*Domaine Faiveley Chablis “Les Clos” Grand Cru 2005. 100% chardonnay. Exquisite and serious, the epitome of a Grand Cru Chablis in its unerring precision and boundless expansiveness. The acid cuts like a knife honed on the wine’s own limestone and quartz outcroppings, yet the texture takes the opposite approach toward creamy lushness that knows exactly when to exert its spareness and elegance. Roasted lemon and lemon curd flavors are infused with orange and lime peel, dried baking spice and a profound earthy element, all of these qualities drawn out through a long, sleek finish. One of the best Chablis I have ever tasted. Exceptional. About $88. 150 six-bottle cases imported.

*Domaine Faiveley Corton Charlemagne Grand Cru 2005. 100% chardonnay. A brilliant wine, amazingly complex, with awe-inspiring detail and dimension. The bouquet offers toasted hazelnuts, spiced and roasted lemon, jasmine and honeysuckle, limestone and a whiff of grapefruit. The size and weight are spectacular, yet the wine never feels lead-footed or obvious, possessing inherent limpidity, an elevating crispness and acidity. The wine is, however, very dry, very earthy, almost tannic. Try from 2010 to 2015 or ‘18. Exceptional. About — one blushes — $273 a bottle, of which 50 six-bottle cases were imported.

*Domaine Faiveley Nuits-Saint-Georges “Les Saint-Georges” Premier Cru 2005. 100% pinot noir. This delivers penetrating aromas of crushed raspberry, black cherry and cranberry permeated by exotic spice, potpourri and clean, damp earth. I mean, it’s all sandalwood and lavender, violets and plum dust, finely-milled tannins (and lots of ‘em), polished oak and minerals. It would be almost pretty if it weren’t so brooding. Try from 2010 or ‘12 to 2015 or ‘16. Or tonight with a grilled veal chop, plenty of rosemary. Excellent. About $146, with 30 six-bottle cases imported to the United States.

*Domaine Faiveley Gevrey-Chambertin “Clos de Beze” Grand Cru 2005. 100% pinot noir. The seductive bouquet of ripe and dried black cherry, raspberry and currant is buoyed by violets and lavender and anchored in an earthy character that’s almost mossy and musky (meaning that this is good and desirable). It’s very dry and large-framed in the mouth, with deep foundations of earth and minerals, new leather, dense oak and slightly austere tannins. Try from 2010 or ‘12 to 2015 to ‘18. Excellent, and a pinot noir of immense character and dignity. About — giving one pause — $350 a bottle, of which 130 six-bottle cases were imported.

*Domaine Faiveley Chambolle-Musigny “La Combes d’Orveau” Premier Cru 2005. 100% pinot noir. Have mercy, this wine is huge! Not just huge but reticent, not just reticent but brooding, without, thank goodness lapsing into truculence, being saved by glimmers of deep, dark black fruit flavors, exotic spice and a mineral quality that’s almost scintillating. Obviously made for the long-haul, this should be given from 2010 or ‘14 through 2015 to ‘20. Excellent. About $176 a bottle, of which 30 six-bottle cases were imported.

*Domaine Faively Corton “Clos des Cortons Faiveley” Grand Cru Monopole 2005. 100% pinot noir. My first notes are “tremendous — HUGE — god, what a nose!” I guess that sort of tells you everything you need to know, except that for a wine of such amazing heft and substance and power, it remains remarkably light on its feet, with a delicacy of dried and fresh roses and violets, like lace on a midnight black velvet dress, and intense and concentrated black fruit scents and flavors. The tannins, though, are broad, scrunchy, austere. A monument that requires some polishing from 2010 or ‘12 to 2015 or ‘18. Excellent. About $195 a bottle, of which 200 six-bottle cases were imported.

So, why mention these wines except that, as with Everest, they’re there?

Well, that’s one reason, of course. The other is to allow readers who, like myself, mainly concern themselves with everyday drinking wines, the opportunity to expand their awareness of the possibilities of wine even vicariously, the way we look at expensive watches or automobiles or rare books. The Faiveley wines reviewed here, rare and costly, will end up on the wine lists of high-ticket restaurants and in the cellars of a few collectors. So be it. They still represent the epitome of what the world’s ancient heritage of wine-making — and Burgundy’s — is all about: authenticity, integrity, eloquence.
Faiveley does offer far less expensive wines than these Premier and Grand Cru wines, which represent a fraction of the house’s production. In addition to the Mercurey Clos Rochette Monopole 2004 mentioned above, look for the white Faiveley Montagny “Domaine de la Croix Jacquelet” 2004, about $21, the red Mercurey “Domaine de la Croix Jacquelet” 2004, about $21, and, always a reliable label, Faiveley’s appealing “Georges Faiveley” Bourgogne Chardonnay 2004, about $17.