Located just outside the town of Santenay (and within sight of the Chapelle home), the Saint-Jean vineyard is devoted mostly to pinot noir, but there are a few prized parcels of chardonnay. And the same might be said of the Santenay appellation as a whole, where chardonnay is outnumbered by big multiples by pinot, something that is a bit unusual in the Côte de Beaune, the "half" of the Côte d'Or generally thought of as much more white oriented than red.

Perhaps because Santenay, a commune, by the way, that has improved its standing considerably in the last 10 or so years, is really red country, the chardonnay that comes from here is generally on the full-bodied side.

The 2007 Saint-Jean is floral and perfumed with lusciously ripe citrus and spice notes. Because of its generous mouth-feel, it is a lovely match for rich fish and chicken dishes, particularly if citrus and butter are involved in the preparation.

Alcohol 13%

120 bottles imported into New York (2,900 bottles produced)

16-year average vine age; organically grown and vinified

GET IT AT

Pour for $45/bottle

Print for $68/bottle

Dovetail for $77/bottle

Kennedy's for $17/glass; $60/bottle

Chapelle’s Premier Cru Morgeot pinot vines are situated right next to his chardonnay, an unusual juxtaposition in Burgundy, because chardonnay and pinot noir have different needs. As Chapelle told me when I visited with him in July 2009, he considers his portion of Morgeot to be particularly suited to pinot, going so far as to call his white Morgeot "a chardonnay made in pinot noir soil."

Historically, there were always much more pinot noir vines planted in Morgeot than chardonnay. But long before pinot became the rage again thanks to "Sideways," the appellation moved decidedly toward whites. And in fact, it's doubtful that many Burgundy fans younger than the Greatest Gneration would associate Morgeot with anything but chardonnay. Nothing wrong with that bit of historical ignorance because in truth, until the last 10 years or so, I've always been underwhelmed by red Morgeot. It struck me as thin and reedy. Chapelle, while not agreeing, did point out that many vingerons have redoubled their efforts in the vineyard. The payoff is obvious.

The 2007 Morgeot shows ample black fruit and earth notes, and the promise of continued development over the next half-dozen years. Pair it with grilled and roasted meat, and red wine- and mushroom-based sauces.

Alcohol 13%

60 bottles imported into New York (4,250 bottles produced)

45-year average vine age; organically grown and vinified

10 months in barrel (25% new)

GET IT AT

Penn Wine for $45.99/bottle

The Vris vineyard is situated a stone’s throw from the prestigious Aloxe-Corton commune and within site of Le Corton, one of Burgundy’s most hallowed place names.

Les Vris is a great illustration of what makes Burgundy so inexplicably charming and complex. As we stood in the vineyard during my visit with Jean-François and his family in July 2009, I could have tossed a stone—or baseball—to pinot noir vines in the more famous Aloxe-Corton appellation. Literally. Some of those vineyards are accorded premier cru status, as is a vineyard situated in Ladoix right next to Les Vris.

And just past where my ball would landed is Corton, a place on every pinot-phile's shortlist. And it is rated grand cru. The difference between these vineyards? Not so much the soil, though there are variations. It comes down to sometimes slight differences in exposure and elevation. That's Burgundy.

The 2007 Ladoix is intensely floral with ample berry, rhubarb and orange peel notes, as well as balancing acidity. It pairs well with red meats, and is not too tannic to overwhelm roasted, grilled or braised salmon.

Alcohol 13%

180 bottles imported into New York (3,100 bottles produced)

45-year average vine age; organically grown and vinified

10 months of barrel aging

GET IT AT

Pour for $39/bottle

Dovetail for $68/bottle

Kennedy's for $16/glass; $55/bottle

Chassagne-Montrachet might be considered by many to be the Côte de Beaune's white wine stepchild when its bottles are gathered on a table with Meursaults and Puligny-Montrachets. Those two place names are certainly accorded great respect by chardonnay drinkers the world over. And deservedly so, but Chassagne-Montrachet ain't no slouch. And, on the whole, it's cheaper, too.

Morgeot is undoubtedly Chassagne-Montrachet’s best-known and most highly regarded premier cru vineyard. It is also one that demonstrates the general rule that chardonnay and pinot noir have very different needs. You typically don't see red and white grown side by side in premier cru-rated vineyards. But in Morgeot, they are, though the whites certainly are more esteemed than the reds (and thus, cheaper).

The ‘07 Morgeot is youthful, with lovely lemon, apricot and hazelnut notes. Its long finish is highlighted by food-friendly brown spice and buttery nuances. Pair it with richly sauced fish and white meat dishes, lobster and crab.

Alcohol 13%

60 bottles imported into New York (2,500 bottles produced)

61-year average vine age; organically grown and vinified

12 months in barrel (15% new)

GET IT AT

Few regions in the wine world are as worshiped, and at the same time misunderstood, as Burgundy. The wines, chardonnay for the whites and pinot noir for the reds, are certifiably wonderful, more so now than at any other time in the region's long winemaking history. Unfortunately, a substantial part of that long history has centered on indifferent winemaking that permitted mediocre practitioners to foist thin, insipid bottles on an adoring public, a public no doubt dazzled by place names so steeped in lore as to often mask poor vineyard and cellar practices. Names like Chambertin, Pommard, Clos de Vougeot for reds, Montrachet, Puligny-Montrachet, Meursault for whites, to name a few better known ones, promised something that these justifiably hallowed grounds often could not deliver: ethereal pinots and chards with grace and subtle power.

The good news is that the days of laurel resting are long gone. Producers great and small are exploiting their fortunate geographic placement and making the best wines in the region's history. Though consumers can feel safer about choosing a wine from an unknown producer now more than at any other time in the past, consumers will still be left dealing with Burgundy's virtually incomprehensible classification system. While it may be possible for a somewhat casual white Burgundy fan to identify a known commune like Meursault on a label, it's unlikely that any of Meursault's 18 or so premier cru sites will mean anything to that consumer when spotted on that label, other than the promise of a lighter wallet, that is. Burgundy is a place of place names and these lieux dits (lee-ew dee) or climats (klee ma) are so numerous as to often confound even the most confident student of the region with names never before encountered.

And to make matters worse, Burgundy is the poster child for France's inheritance laws gone wild. A family holding that at one time might have been sizable invariably ends up smaller and smaller with each successive generation's heirs getting his or her piece. The result, in addition to the vast majority of producers being essentially tiny, is a phone book that reads more like a collection of family reunion sign-ins. There are pères, there are fils, there are hyphenations, there are cousins, grandparents, and names so common as to be almost Smith-like in their ubiquity. That's Burgundy.

All of this said, there is a way to make a bit of sense of the Burgundy hierarchy. As it stretches from Chablis in the north to the Mâconnais (that is, the area surrounding the charming town of Mâcon) in the south (technically, the vast, leafy vineyards of Beaujolais are considered part of Burgundy's viticultural area, but it has long been treated separately) and particularly the Côte d'Or, comprised of the Côte de Nuits (in the north) and Côte de Beaune (south of Nuits), pedigree, thus esteem, quality (most of the time) and price, is directly related to vine placement on the ground.

This view of vineyards in Aloxe-Corton and Ladoix (some of which are owned by Domaine Chapelle) in the Côte de Beaune neatly illustrates the Burgundy hierarchy: Vines are generally more highly regarded as they move from sea level up the slopes.

Generally, the lower the vines in elevation, the less special they are. As vines work their way up from sea level toward the slopes, they get better and better. So, usually, vines on the ground floor, so to speak, will typically be accorded generic or regional designations like Bourgogne blanc and rouge, Mâcon, etc. As the vines start to move up the slopes, and/or particularly if they are found in certain communes (essentially something roughly equivalent to a town and its immediate surrounding area), the resultant wines may be given more specific communal appellation monikers, such as Chablis, Meursault and Pommard.

As those vines move up a bit more, something that can easily be witnessed as a visitor drives down roads like the N-74, the finished wines may be given premier cru status. And finally, for those privileged vines raised at or near the crest of certain slopes, a grand cru designation may be indicated. Bottles can then be proudly adorned with the name of the vineyard or other important place within a vineyard. For example, Gevrey-Chambertin is fairly well known as an excellent source of pinot noir. So, a label that simply says "Gevrey-Chambertin" would mean that the bottle contained pinot of a somewhat "basic" quality for that particular commune. (Of course, there is basic and there is basic, and certainly a pinot from Gevrey-Chambertin should be expected to show more class than one from a lesser-regarded commune, such as Ladoix. There's nothing wrong with pinot from Ladoix, however, and in fact, it is an up-and-coming commune that is the source of very well-priced wines.)

If a label also included one of Gevrey-Chambertin's authorized vineyard names or climats, such as for example, Champeaux, one of the best known of the commune's 26 premier cru place names, you would expect the pinot to be a pretty big step up in class from the "basic" Gevrey-Chambertin. You'd also pay a lot more for it. Sometimes winemakers choose to leave the climat off the label but still may label it premier cru. This choice can be made for a number of reasons, including vintage variation and blending of grapes from more than one climat to name just two. And, by the way, you'll never see a bottle of Gevrey-Chambertin with a grand cru designation on its label. Confusingly, there is a grand cru called Chambertin that actually comes from the same commune of Gevrey-Chambertin, but the absence of "Gevrey" means the pinot came from a different place within the commune, one that has long been considered among the best in Burgundy for pinot.

Got it? All of this is very general, and there are so many exceptions that it often seems hardly worth trying to make sense of it. But after all, a general framework with many holes is better than none at all.