July 5, 2000

Au naturel chardonnays pass test of time by Laurie Daniel

STONY HILL chardonnay was one of California's early cult wines. This lean, steely, complex chardonnay from the slopes of Spring Mountain on the western side of the Napa Valley was legendary for its ability to age. It was (and still is) sold mostly through a mailing list. In the mid-'80s, there was a wait of two or more years to even get on the list.

These days, the Stony Hill style is something of an anachronism. It is the antithesis of the hedonistic, oaky, buttery chardonnays that are all the rage now. Those chardonnays reflect the winemaker's tools, sometimes at the expense of the fruit flavors. Many of them taste mostly of vanilla, smoke and butterscotch -- flavors that come from lots of new oak and from malolactic fermentation, a secondary fermentation (often referred to as just ML) that softens the wine's acidity.

Stony Hill chardonnay, on the other hand, is an expression of the fruit and the vineyard. It is subjected to practically no new oak and doesn't undergo ML.

Stony Hill is one of a handful of Napa Valley producers -- the list also includes Mayacamas Vineyards, Grgich Hills Cellars, Forman, Freemark Abbey, Chateau Woltner and Chateau Montelena, among others -- that still make chardonnay without using malolactic. Many of these non-ML wines come from surprising vineyard locations in the upper Napa Valley -- places where red grapes rule and that some would consider too hot for the chardonnay grape. But these wineries are turning out carefully crafted chardonnays that are powerful, often minerally, with lots of fresh acidity, like a good Chablis. They aren't particularly luscious in their youth, but they reward a few years of aging. (ML, by the way, isn't inherently bad. Many chardonnays from very cool climates would simply be too tart without it. But it can also be overused, making the wine flabby and giving it a phony, movie-popcorn-butter flavor.)

My first experience with an old Stony Hill chardonnay was last fall, when I sampled a 1981 that was still vibrant and lively. When I visited the winery this spring, winemaker Mike Chelini had recently tasted the 1964 and was still raving about it.

St. Helena is generally considered too warm for chardonnay, but the Stony Hill vineyard's elevation, 600 feet, puts it above the baking valley heat, and the ridge line west of the vineyard shades the grapes from the intense afternoon sun.

Unobrusive barrels
In the winemaking, Chelini tries to preserve the freshness of the fruit. Most of the barrels used to age the wine are 15 to 20 years old, he says, so the wines don't pick up any oak flavors. The main reason the tiny winery has any new oak at all, Chelini adds, is that he's had to replace some old barrels.

New oak "doesn't work for our grapes or our style," says Chelini, who's been the winemaker for about 25 years. "The fruit is so subtle up here. We like to have people taste our grapes.... You can taste our hillside."

Stony Hill chardonnays have a consistent style that longtime customers have come to expect, and Chelini notes that many of them put the wines away for 10 years or more. In most vintages, he thinks the wines start to show their true colors after about five years.

For a look at how the wines evolve, we tasted four vintages from the '90s. The 1997, the current release ($24), is rich and concentrated, with loads of tangy apple, pear, citrus and mineral flavors and a very long finish. The lovely 1996 has acquired a slight tropical character and has rich, round flavors of ripe pear, along with the usual juicy acidity. The 1991 has become slightly toasty, but it's still amazingly youthful, with vibrant fruit and acidity and a wonderful perfume. (A fatter style of California chardonnay from 1991 would have completely fallen apart by now.) The 1990 has aged noticeably, but it still had lots of fresh fruit and bright acidity, so it still has some life in front of it.