There is a devil wind blowing in Chablis right now. It’s so cold that a cave full of bottles of Cremant de Bourgone is a warm paradise from the cold air outside. Even a cave full of ice sculptures and polar bears would seem temperate today. Here they call it the “Tempest.” A powerful cold wind that blows down across Western Europe from Russia, and today it has Chablis, France, in its chilly grip.

Chablis, Chablis, Chablis. The name conjures up 1979, and the cheap wine in a jug my friend’s parents would drink while having fondue and macramé parties. In the ensuing years the popularity of questionable white wine not even of French origin, pots of melted cheese, and handy-crafts involving bailing twine have faded into the annals of American pop culture. Unfortunately, now the real Chablis arrives to the party in a frock more associated with Ron Burgundy than with Burgundy itself.

Ironically, the mineral-rich and forcefully acidic wines of Chablis are “interesting wines.“ Made entirely from Chardonnay, the most popular varietal in the United States, it is often overlooked by American wine drinkers. For years, as a winemaker, I have resisted the temptation to make over-oaked, high alcohol, fruit cocktails with a dollop of butter that proliferate in New World wineries. The wine occultists have anointed these fat wines as good and wineries have been selling them in mass for decades now. The style at Wolf Creek and Troutman Vineyards has always been subtle. Perhaps even a little more La Chablisienne than Californian.

Chardonnays from Ohio are more similar to those of Chablis in that they tend to be lighter, lower in alcohol, and higher in acidity. Not the same by far, but similar. This makes them great with fat, rich foods. Think foi-gras, brie, and McDonalds french fries…. Something many Chards aspire for, but often fall flat on their drunken Butter Faces.

Unlike Ohio, Chablis has far more minerality, and usually less fruit both in the aroma and the palate. I would describe it like licking a brick after it’s been washed with Irish Spring. Pleasant? Maybe not, but it’s damn refreshing….

So for the past several days me and my colleagues have been zipping around the French countryside. Note: Most of the French drive like the girlfriend I didn’t marry because of her driving … stopping and tasting Chardonnay. Tasting and shivering. Real Chardonnay. Enduring freezing vineyards, cozy cellars, and the occasional tank samples from 2009. I am happy to taste the wines here. It shows that style is not always about sales, but about what the Earth gives the winemaker.

So the next time you’re out at the wine shop, pick up a bottle of Wolf Creek or Troutman Chardonnay, and compare it to a fine bottle of Chablis. You may just find a little of the Tempest from Chablis there.