With White Wine Dominating, Can Richer Expressions Make a Comeback?

It’s a certainty that many wine consumers, professionals, and civilians alike share the same dirty little secret: an unfashionable love for big, rich white wines.

There’s a time and place for everything. At least that’s how the saying goes. But the reality is this inclusive declaration is all too easily discarded for the sake of surfing trends and fitting in. Navigating the industry as a closeted fan of luscious whites in the ongoing age of light-and-fresh, low-alcohol, everything-acid can’t be an easy burden to bear. Many professional and social encounters now involve imperious praise for enamel-assaulting acidity as the ultimate indispensable white wine trait.

A fear of being outed and shamed by colleagues has kept many a mouth shut in hopes of avoiding pop- culture humiliation. But as the long arc of fashion begins its overdue retreat from an apex of acid excess, might this guilty pleasure finally be coming back into style?

If higher-alcohol wine sales are any prophetic indicator, there’s at least some hope. Napa-based beverage alcohol analytics consultancy Azur Associates, citing data collected from consumer research firm NIQ (formerly NielsenIQ), reported that while overall 2024 retail sales continued to sink, the higher-alcohol end of the spectrum — red wine, more often than not — climbed by almost 8 percent. Mix in the fact that white wines have become more popular than reds for the first time in over 30 years, and it appears a renaissance opportunity for rich white wines (which also tend to be relatively higher-alcohol) may be developing.

If a rich-styled renaissance is indeed on the horizon for white wine, it’s been a long time coming. Decades ago, the now-maligned category saw wide appreciation. But at some point, the style flew too close to the sun, becoming almost a parody of itself. As a new generation entered into its wine-appreciating years, a backlash took hold, and its impact still haunts rich white wines today.

The Cruel Legacy of ‘ABC’ and ‘Cougar Juice’

Somewhere around the late ‘90s to early 2000s, the pendulum hit its furthest extreme, particularly for Chardonnay. The grape had become the poster child for all things over-the-top in the white wine sphere. “We took things a little too far with the unctuousness,” says Sara Floyd, Master Sommelier and co-founder of California’s Swirl Wine Brokers and Luli Wines. “People decided that wasn’t working for them, and prices crept up, too.”

But instead of reigning in the excess, the whole idea of Chardonnay as a world-class variety was slammed as unsophisticated and passé by a trendy contrarian set. “Anything But Chardonnay” became a modern wine culture mantra, with Rombauer’s iconic bottling — being wildly popular among a certain lampooned demographic — derided with the ignominious nickname “Cougar Juice.”

David Ramey, founder and chairman of Sonoma’s Ramey Wine Cellars, pulls no punches with his distaste for the ‘ABC’ title, branding it “ignorant dogmatism.”

As a celebrated Chardonnay winemaker — unofficially dubbed California’s “Professor of Chardonnay” — his unequivocal rejection of the notion is more than reasonable. Yet he understands the sentiment that inspired the misguided movement. “There’s room for moderation without extremes,” he says. “[It was] the knee-jerk extreme reaction to Bob Parker’s love of high-alcohol, low-acid, and oaky wines. [But] the answer to over-oaked wines is less oak, not no oak. … [Just as] the answer to over-salted food is not no salt.”

The main culprit sparking the anti-Chardonnay conflagration appears to be the oak itself (Chateau 2×4 for those keeping score on the insults) and its sweet, toasty, caramelly consequences.

 “Trying to make something super low alcohol in California is just kind of ridiculous. You’re just fighting against yourself.”

“It was a funny thing,” says Andy Chabot, senior vice president of food and beverage at Blackberry Farm and Blackberry Mountain in the Appalachian foothills of Tennessee. “People really were saying ‘anything but heavy oak’ in my opinion, since those same people would say, ‘No Chardonnay, but give me a nice Chablis.’” He self-describes as an unapologetic devotee of powerful white wines, and the Blackberry Farm wine cellar is stocked with a staggeringly deep list of California Chardonnay and Rhône white selections (also known for their richness) to prove it.

And while oak was the apparent main perpetrator, it wasn’t the only attribute that got caught up in the ‘ABC’ dragnet.

As if not fully satisfied in its retribution for excessive oak crimes, a whole list of otherwise reasonable and noble traits were swept into culture court for summary judgment. Rounded texture was thrown to the wolves, cleanliness tossed aside, and acid obsession took hold, with overt thinness and eye-watering pH often lionized as righteous and superior. “There are wineries who changed the style of their wines to follow the trend, and chasing trends in this industry is dangerous,” Floyd says. “Trying to make something super low alcohol in California is just kind of ridiculous. You’re just fighting against yourself. … You’re fighting against mother nature. You want non-intervention, but you’re manipulating it.”

The Other French Paradox

Chabot is a bit more forgiving in his assessment of the reactionary persecution, framing it as an experiment-filled journey of rediscovery back into balance — one that he readily concedes quested to dogmatic extremes at times. Yet when digging through Blackberry Farm’s enviable wine list, one is reminded of an undercurrent of hypocrisy continuing to haunt popular wine culture: It’s classy if it’s French.

By no means is this a hypocrisy committed by Chabot or the collection he’s curated. Far from it. It’s a fine list, and the philosophy behind it is beyond reproach. Interestingly, though, if quietly browsing the California Chardonnay section, one happens upon dozens of great wines about which both professionals and civilians talk trash. But for the extensive white Burgundy and Rhône selections — wines that can be equally as powerful and unctuous — there’s often nothing but love and reverence.

“I think consumers want great wines that are made correctly. In fact, I think guests want better wines than ever, made correctly, but maybe just less of those wines. A really great glass over a pretty good bottle is a trend I’m seeing.”

When asked if he’s experienced this disconnect as a winemaker, Ramey says “most definitely.”

He points to traditional chaptalization practices in Burgundy — where sugar is added into the fermentation process to boost alcohol levels and richness — as one of the great ironies about which the general wine drinking public is blissfully unaware. Much like “ABC”-movement adherents ordering white Burgundy and Chablis, there’s a disconnect woven into the cultural discourse regarding wine and the national origin thereof.

“I’ve never seen anyone turn down a Montrachet in my life,” Floyd says, while adding that most don’t consciously intend to adopt the comparative slight. “It’s a very common mentality when you’re learning about wine,” she says. “You’re so intrigued by Europe. The history is so impressive, [and] it’s the birthplace of these varieties.”

But intended or not, “ABC” and its long anti-richness shadow seem to have left France and its powerful white wine examples still basking in the sun.

The Pleasure Principle Fights Back

The odds of a white wine stylistic trend swinging all the way back to the 16-percent-ABV, wood-chipper extremes of yesteryear are likely slim. But a return to luscious yet balanced glasses of golden-hued, barrel-fermented Chardonnay may yet be in the cards as the culture retreats from its recent dogmatically austere excesses — despite (or perhaps because of) current moderation trends.

“It’s certainly interesting to watch the trend toward an alcohol-light lifestyle, while at the same time seeing people wanting wines that weren’t necessarily low-ABV and high-acid,” Chabot says. “I think consumers want great wines that are made correctly. In fact, I think guests want better wines than ever, made correctly, but maybe just less of those wines. A really great glass over a pretty good bottle is a trend I’m seeing.”

Floyd is even more optimistic based on the uptick among California Chardonnay icons she represents like ROAR, Ten Acre, and Kongsgaard. “Domestic Chardonnay sales are coming back with a vengeance,” she says. “Sales are way up.” But perhaps most importantly is that, for many who don’t bother to follow the whims of sceney fashion, rich white wines never went out of style in the first place. “I don’t understand why we can’t just like it all!” Floyd laments. “I’ve always been perplexed that we have to have these rigid guidelines of yea or nay.”

Reflecting Floyd’s high-end data for the everyday drinking segment, a search of the 50 most popular white wines below $30 at Wine.com reveals that about a quarter of them are rich West Coast Chardonnay — including Kendall-Jackson Vintner’s Reserve at No. 1 across most U.S. markets.

“People still love Chardonnay because of the textural richness it brings. A winemaker pointed out to me years ago that as animals, as people, we gravitate to the ripest fruit on the tree,” Floyd says. It’s an instinctual pleasure principle. We seek out things that are more developed. “Look at John Kongsgaard, he didn’t change a bit,” she adds. “As much as people scoff at California and Napa, when that bottle comes out, everyone wants a glass of it. That’s the most important thing regarding longevity. [Producers like Kongsgaard] know who they are.”

With a little luck — and a little help from the Chardonnay silent majority — the long-awaited moment for many to say, “I was a fan way before it was cool,” might actually be on its way.

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