Stirring With A Stick
TASTING NOTES: “This Chardonnay is refreshing and expressive, opening with aromas of Asian pear that lead into bright citrus notes. The palate is lush yet balanced, showcasing riper tropical flavors of white peach, orange blossom, and creamy lemon meringue. Vibrant acidity carries through a long, mouthwatering finish, accented by refined hints of white pepper and nutmeg. Subtle oak influence adds layers of vanilla and toasted brioche, all seamlessly integrated with the bright Chardonnay fruit. The result is a beautifully balanced, classically styled Napa Valley Chardonnay with finesse and precision.” (AbV 14.5%, pH 3.42, TA 5.8 g/l)
VARIETALS: 100% Chardonnay
BARRELS: Fermented and aged in French oak (30% new); Partial malolactic fermentation
PAIRS WITH: N/A
THAT REMINDS ME OF: The bâtonnage — the lees-stirring technique used to make this Chardonnay creamy and rich.
It’s a French word that comes from bâton, meaning stick or rod. Which means that at its most literal, bâtonnage is just… stirring. With a stick. And yet winemakers say it in a French accent and suddenly it sounds like something you’d find on a spa menu between the hot stone massage and the lymphatic drainage facial. “I’ll take the bâtonnage, please. And can you also do my shoulders?”
This is a deeply human tendency — the power of the right word to transform a mundane act into something that feels artisanal, intentional, almost sacred. “I stir the wine sediment with a stick” becomes “we practice bâtonnage to encourage yeast autolysis and develop textural complexity.” Same activity. Completely different vibe. Surgeons do this too. They don’t say they’re cutting you open and poking around — they say they’re performing a procedure. And frankly, good. Keep using that word. Nobody wants to think about the stick.
