From Burgundy to the New World, Chardonnay comes in many styles. Join me as I explore its misunderstood reputation and my own journey from hater to fan!

Chardonnay is a bit of a weird one, isn’t it? Grown successfully in many countries, it makes widely popular white wines. So why is it often vilified? You’ve heard the vocal opponents. You’ve seen the frowns when a Chardonnay wine is uncorked. How did it get this reputation? Is it warranted? Why do so many people seem not to like it?

I’m fairly confident you’ve had this white wine before. So, how do you like it? Me from 20 years ago would’ve answered, “I don’t.” Wait, is it about to get controversial up in here? Not really—today’s me is more knowledgeable and has had the chance to try different styles of Chardonnay.

Because that’s the thing: Chardonnay comes in different styles. If you don’t like it, maybe you just haven’t had the right one. But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, let’s rewind and explore the history of the varietal.

Chardonnay’s Origin Story

Wine historians used to argue over the origins of grape varieties. One theory claimed Chardonnay came from the Middle East, brought to France by Crusaders returning home. But DNA testing suffers no myths. Turns out, Chardonnay is a cross between Pinot Noir and Gouais Blanc[i], and is native to Burgundy. Makes sense, considering it’s named after the Burgundian village of Chardonnay, Saône-et-Loire[ii]. It’s likely that Chardonnay wines originated in the wineries around this village.

Chardonnay grapes were grown in Burgundy in the Middle Ages, but the first recorded mention doesn’t appear until the 1600s. It wasn’t until the 18th century that Chardonnay (and other Burgundy grapes) traveled beyond the region, thanks to France’s improved roads. By the late 1700s, the grape made its way north to Champagne, where it would go on to revolutionize sparkling wine. But that’s a story for another day.

Chardonnay Hits the Road

Also in the late 1700s, Chardonnay accompanied Napoleonic troops into Italy. There, it found a home in the north, where it still thrives. Excellent examples come from cooler areas like Alto Adige or Friulli[iii]. Most of Italy’s Chardonnay, however, goes into producing outstanding sparkling wines. (I’m partial to the Franciacorta ones!)

A few decades later, newly independent nations in the New World asked France for help revitalizing their stagnant wine industries. So, Chardonnay was on the road again—well, on a ship, to be precise—heading to Australia and the Americas.

Like Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay adapts well to different soils and climates. It flourished in many regions that would later become go-to spots for great Chards: Margaret River in Australia, Carneros in California, and Casablanca in Chile.

But Chardonnay’s adaptability is a double-edged sword. It also grew well in much warmer regions, a far cry from its cooler homeland in Burgundy. And that’s where we get into its many styles.

The Many Faces of Chardonnay

Even within Burgundy, Chardonnay takes on different expressions. In the Old World, and especially in Burgundy, terroir plays a big role in shaping flavor. White Burgundies often feature green apple and a touch of salinity, but specifics vary by region. Take Chablis, known for crisp, mineral-driven wines, versus Côte de Beaune, where Chardonnay takes on richer notes of apples, vanilla, and toasted nuts due to oak aging.

In the New World, with different soils and often warmer climates, Chardonnays tend to be more expressive, showcasing tropical fruit and restrained minerality. When aged in oak, they become buttery, a style that surged in popularity in the late ’70s and ’80s. You might know it as California Chardonnay, and it might just be why so many people claim to hate the grape.

I was one of them.

Like this kitty, some Chardonnay rests in oak barrels.

And Then the Penny Dropped

The first Chardonnay I ever had was Chilean, made in that California style. This was the early 2000s, and I was in the beginning stages of my wine education. Next to the zippy Sauvignon Blanc and floral Semillon I also tasted, Chardonnay felt muted. A few years later, I had a similar experience with Chardonnay from California. I was looking for something light, crisp, and aromatic, but instead, I got too much oak and an overly creamy texture.

I get it—that might be exactly what you love in a Chardonnay. But it just wasn’t my jam.

The real problem? I wasn’t just inexperienced. I was also stubborn. I didn’t like the Chardonnays I had tried, and that’s fine. But what’s unforgivable is that, for a while, I refused to try new ones. (I know, I know. I’m ashamed of my past.)

Luckily, while working on a new menu[iv], I was recommended a wine to pair with a dish. It was a Chablis, and it blew my mind.

Since then, I’ve explored different Chardonnays and even discovered unoaked Chilean ones from Casablanca and Limarí that are well worth seeking out. Speaking of which…

What To Expect from a Chilean Chardonnay

Several styles coexist in the Chilean wine market. You can find oak-aged Chardonnays, as well as fresher, fruitier, more acidic ones. You can probably guess which ones I buy more often.

The oaked versions still feel unbalanced to my palate, but your mileage may vary. If you like that style, pair it with something that complements its toasty aromas—say, baked Camembert with hazelnuts and a drizzle of honey over toast.

But if you prefer the fresher, crisper styles from Limarí and Casablanca, try them with meatier seafood like oysters, conger eel, lobster, or scallops. For an out-of-the-box pairing, a zippy Chardonnay can even go well with rotisserie chicken and asparagus[v].

For me, Chardonnay is a summer evening wine—the kind to uncork at golden hour. The heat of the day has simmered down, but it’s still warm enough for shorts. You’ve got music playing, good company, and a chilled glass of Chardonnay in hand. What’s not to love?

The Last Drop

I was close-minded about Chardonnay, not quite understanding why it’s the most popular white wine in the world. Turns out, I just hadn’t tried a style I liked. Chablis saved the day, opening my eyes to a version of Chardonnay that suited me.

Oh, and I eventually tried aged Chardonnays from Côte de Beaune—a Burgundian region famous for its oaked Chards. Guess what? I liked them! I didn’t go crazy for them, but they were more enjoyable than any oaked Chardonnay I’d had in the New World. Côte de Beaune was probably the benchmark those buttery California Chards were trying to emulate. They didn’t quite hit the mark, but they did create a wine that plenty of people love. Hard to argue with that.

There’s no denying Chardonnay’s popularity. I was a hater for a while, so I speak from experience. If you think you don’t like it, maybe you just haven’t found your style yet. Keep exploring. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.

What’s your favorite style of Chardonnay? Have you tried both New and Old World versions? Let’s talk about it in the comments below!

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[i] You haven’t Heard of this one? That’s okay. I hadn’t either. It’s not widely grown nowadays, but it played an important role parenting many grapes—most, lesser known—in France and Germany (where it’s known as Weißer Heunisch. Discounting Chardonnay, the bigger grape it has parented is Riesling.

[ii] This is the department, one of several levels of administrative regions in France, where the village is located. Named so because it’s between the rivers Saône and Loire.

[iii] The full names for these regions are Trentino-Alto Adige, and Friuli-Venezia Giulia.

[iv] Back then I was a restaurant Chef in a 5-star hotel, which had a few sommeliers I could lean on for wine advice.

[v] Asparagus is not as hard to pair as you might’ve heard.

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Cover Image: Chardonnay grapes on the vine. Photo by Winemaker.