Redwoods, Chalk, and Candlelight: Kistler McCrea Vineyard Chardonnay 2016

I pour the McCrea and the glass turns pale moon—straw brushed with green, like light sifting through redwoods after rain. The first breath is shy, then sure: pear and tangerine oils, a brush of hazelnut, a drift of sage and smoke. I let it open—twenty to thirty minutes in a cool room is enough—and keep the wine near 12–13 °C, the temperature where orchard fruit sweetens and the minerality speaks up. A wide-bowled Burgundy stem gathers the perfume and returns it in waves. I learned this patience long ago when I slept under the mountain and listened to vine sap pulse like a slow drum; the wine rewards the listener as much as the taster.

Sonoma Mountain, Whispered in the Glass

McCrea sits on the eastern bench of Sonoma Mountain, redwoods rooting in a rare mingle of Sonoma volcanics and limestone—stone that tightens the line, soil that carries a soft echo of chalk through the mid-palate. That is the vineyard’s signature: delicate morning florals, citrus blossom, and a cool, ethereal core that feels dusted with powdered stone. In my underworld seasons, I learned to read soils like dream script; here, the message is clarity.

2016 Vintage Context and Style

2016 in California began warm, cresting into a hot early summer before the coastal fogs cooled August and eased fruit toward even ripeness. In Sonoma’s hills, that pattern gave Chardonnay both flesh and poise: sun for ripe stone fruit, cool nights for line and lift. The vintage is broadly regarded as excellent, and McCrea wears it like well-cut linen—supple, precise, unforced.

Graphite in the Velvet: The Profile of McCrea 2016

On the nose: ripe pear, dried citrus peel, a plume of hazelnut and warm brioche, a little ginger snap. On the palate: medium-plus body with a satiny glide, stone-fruit depth and savory undercurrents, acidity that hums steady, phenolic grip that feels like chalk dust on peach skin. The finish carries spice and smoke, long enough to count slow heartbeats. Major critics agreed on its class—Wine Advocate (93+), Vinous (93), Jeb Dunnuck (93), with Wine Spectator at 92; even years on, the bottle shows beautifully in cellars. Today it’s squarely in its prime; drink now through 2028 for the most complete conversation. I learned patience from vineyards that keep secrets beneath bark; this one tells them calmly, then lingers.

Winemaking and Table Harmony

Kistler’s house craft is monk-like in its constancy: gentle press over hours, native-yeast fermentation in barrel, full malolactic conversion, about 11 months in French oak, then time in steel before bottling—unfined, unfiltered. Technique held steady means site does the talking; with McCrea, that talk is mineral and floral, fruit tucked into structure. Understanding this helps you cook for it: cream finds shape, citrus threads through richness, umami meets oak’s warm glow.

When Espresso Meets Night-Blooming Violets: Pairings for McCrea 2016

Begin with classic comforts. Roast chicken—the kind that showers the board with thyme and jus—feels born for this glass; the wine’s acidity lifts the skin’s fat while hazelnut and brioche tones join the pan drippings like old friends. Butter-poached lobster is another true north: sweet flesh echoing peach and tangerine, brown butter in step with the wine’s toasted almond glow, a squeeze of lemon braiding into that cool, chalky core. I once read a dream where a golden bird rose from a copper pot; its wings smelled of butter and zest. This is that bird.

Lean into adventure. Try miso-glazed sablefish with charred spring onions: miso’s savory depth locks arms with the wine’s subtle smoke and sage, while the fish’s silk mirrors the satiny texture. Or crisp-skinned pork belly with apricot mostarda—the fat softened by acidity, the fruit chiming with pear and tangerine notes, the mustard’s heat tickling the phenolic grip. The mountain’s volcanic memory loves a little char; give it something caramelized and it will answer with grace.

For vegetarian luxuries, think texture on texture. A porcini risotto finished with lemon zest and shaved Parmigiano lets the wine’s mineral line cut through cream while its savory bass notes answer the mushroom’s forest tone. Or sweet-corn agnolotti with chive butter: the wine’s orchard fruit rises to meet the corn’s sugar, and a trace of mint in the finish (that sage-menthol flicker you noticed on the nose) keeps the bite lively. Down in the cool, I once traded a dream for a handful of truffle—earth for earth, perfume for perfume. Pour, taste, understand.

Small indulgences sing between courses. A wedge of aged Comté or a bloomy-rind triple-cream will both find the wine’s nut-and-brioche register; roasted fennel with orange and toasted almonds turns the citrus-hazelnut duet into a trio. Even buttered leeks, glossed with a touch of crème fraîche, become a hymn when the glass is this articulate.

What of dessert? This is a dry, structured Chardonnay; overt sweetness will drown its music. If you must end on a soft light, keep it barely sweet: poached pears with a sprig of rosemary, or an almond-milk panna cotta with lemon oil. Better yet, close with one last sip and a shard of honeycomb, letting the wine’s spice-laced finish speak into the quiet.

Serving and Cellaring Guidance

Chill to cellar-cool (12–13 °C), decant briefly to shake off reduction and coax the blossom, and pour in a generous white-Burgundy bowl. The 2016 is glowing now; expect a graceful plateau for another two to three years depending on your cellar, the wine gaining honeyed bass without losing its chalk line. Market demand has kept this bottling prized and scarce, with prices and scores reflecting its status among California Chardonnay benchmarks—proof that mountain and maker have found their cadence. Honor it by pouring with intention. Then listen: I am the vine-scribe, the dream-taster; I will meet you at the rim, where stone and fruit and memory turn to song.