White Walnut, Chardonnay, Dundee Hills

There was a time — not that long ago — when you could wander into a decent wine shop, grab a good Bourgogne Blanc for forty bucks, and feel like you were getting away with something. Then came the tariff years, the bidding wars, the collectors with bottomless wallets, and suddenly that same bottle costs sixty-five and somehow comes with the suggestion that you should feel lucky to have it. Meanwhile, 5,500 miles west in Oregon, something far more interesting has been happening: a quiet Chardonnay revolution. While Burgundy was inflating, the Willamette Valley was investing — not in slogans or oak polish, but in smarter farming, better clones, and winemakers who cared more about soil microbes than scores. And people are noticing: White Walnut has already begun earning serious critical attention from the major voices in wine, and it deserves every bit of it — case in point, today’s bottle. The latitude matches Burgundy. The budbreak-to-harvest timeline matches Burgundy. The volcanic and sedimentary soils offer the same conversation of tension and depth. And now, finally, the wines are matching Burgundy — sometimes beating it — without requiring a second mortgage. The 2023 Dundee Hills Chardonnay from White Walnut Estate has that same texture, electricity, and mineral snap I chase in serious Chassagne, Puligny, and Meursault... except it’s forty bucks, which means I can open it on a Tuesday night without consulting my accountant or my conscience. Buy a case and it won’t last until New Year’s — especially if you have Burgundy-loving friends.

White Walnut began as an overgrown walnut orchard in the Dundee Hills — the quiet, red-soil heart of Oregon wine country — and was slowly restored by winemaker Chris Mazepink, his wife Dee, and their sons, Archer and Charles. They didn’t bulldoze the land; they listened to it, clearing it by hand and working around its rhythms rather than forcing their own. Old walnut trees were left standing beside new vines. Native birds were invited back with habitat rather than noise cannons. The deep, brick-red Jory volcanic soil — found only here in the Dundee Hills and on a handful of pockets scattered around the valley — was treated as something alive, not something to be sterilized with chemical fertilizers and fungicides. What emerged was not a manicured, trophy estate, but a living farm where Chardonnay and Pinot Noir are part of the ecosystem rather than the reason for it.

Most wineries plant a single clone in tidy, uniform rows so they can predict the outcome. White Walnut does the opposite: dozens of Chardonnay selections, each with different berry sizes, flavors, and ripening curves, grown together like a choir instead of a soloist. The farming is biodynamic in the true sense — sheep grazing, cover crops flowering, compost piles steaming in the morning fog — and the vines respond to that biodiversity with natural complexity that doesn’t need to be manufactured in the cellar. At harvest, the fruit is picked and pressed together, fermented with native yeasts that have lived on the property longer than the winery itself. The result is a Chardonnay with texture and tension that can’t be fabricated: bright Meyer lemon, white peach skin, crushed oyster shell, and that cool-toned mineral line that usually comes with a French passport and a triple-digit price tag.

The 2023 Dundee Hills Chardonnay opens with citrus blossom, pear, white peach, and wet limestone aromatics that immediately signal its Burgundy-like precision. On the palate, it walks a fine line between richness and restraint — medium-plus in body, shimmering with acidity, and carried by a long, mineral-etched finish that feels more Côte de Beaune than New World. Serve just at cellar temperature in Burgundy stems and let it slowly warm toward 60°F. Pair it with halibut in brown butter, roasted chicken with thyme, or a simple bowl of lemon–garlic pasta with spring vegetables. It will drink beautifully over the next 3–5 years, but it is hitting a beautiful stride right now — ideal for holiday tables, dinner parties, or a quiet night in when you want a bottle that tastes like you spent more than you did.