My First New Jersey Wine Was Not What I Expected

Despite my New York City proximity, I had never been to the Jersey Shore. Sure, like many of us might sheepishly admit, we’ve watched it, but my family’s occasional quests for sun and sand always landed us elsewhere.

A recent stay, albeit brief, was a lot of fun, and thankfully, not in a “Jersey Shore” kind of way! Before I plunge into my first Jersey wine, allow me a brief digression into the charms of Point Pleasant Beach. As a D.C. native, I’m well familiar with the beaches of the DMV, and Point Pleasant Beach has much of the charm of Bethany Beach, Delaware, with little, if any, of the honky tonk of Ocean City, Maryland, and Rehoboth and Lewes in Delaware. Yes, there are bars and lots of music, but that sense of “party until you drop” just isn’t. Not that the visitors don’t have a good time; they’re just not as obnoxious about it. Honestly, if I had to choose between Bethany Beach and Point Pleasant Beach for future returns, I’m taking the latter. And not just because it’s far less expensive, even in peak season, than Bethany. It’s just more chill, and that’s enough for me.

My Introduction to New Jersey Wine

Back to the subject at hand. Here is a succinct summary of all I know about wines from the Garden State: They have been making them for a long time and actually quite a lot of it. That’s it. And, no, if you’re thinking it’s because I’m a snob (if you don’t know me by now, you will never, never, never know me!), it certainly is not. It’s just that like most of us, my focus has always been a bit more mainstream. That said, I love wines from Virginia and believe they are greatly under appreciated but my forays into that part of the East Coast wine scene started primarily because I have family there. If not, it’s likely I wouldn’t have bothered. And that would have been a shame.

Then I Met a New Jersey Chardonnay

I met this wine at a seafood restaurant our first night. The list was, to be polite, short. I did spot a local wine and I try to embrace the when-in-Rome thing if possible (I recently had my first wine from Czechia at a Czech restaurant in New York City—more on that one day). It was a 2023 White Horse Winery Chardonnay. What intrigued me about it, or maybe scared me a bit, was that right there on the label was the following, “Estate Barrel Fermented.”

This bold statement told me that not only did White Horse embrace that its Chard was barrel fermented but added “Estate” as a qualifier. This screamed, let’s double down. As many of you may recall, back in the go-go 1980s, winemakers in California and then all over used terms like “estate bottled” or some variation to suggest that that version of wine was somehow elevated (and therefore more expensive) than wines that didn’t. Barrel fermented was used in the same way because using oak makes the wine better, right? Well, we came to realize that it only made the wine oakier.

It just seemed to me that White Horse maybe hadn’t gotten the memo that this style of Chardonnay just isn’t many consumers’ cup of tea and hasn’t been for the better part of a decade. I thought, you know what, I’m going to give it a chance. I ordered steamers and because there will always be drawn butter on the side so they can be dipped, it made sense to get a Chardonnay that has had some oak treatment. (This pairing strategy demonstrates how something like butter can turn the typical pairing on its head. Ordinarily, if I were have little necks or oysters on the half shell, I’d go with something lean, like Muscadet, Sauvignon Blanc or some equally as citric and minerally wine, but the butter changes that equation.)

The Chardonnay That Changed My Mind

The nose definitely trumpeted that barrel fermentation but I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t overwhelming and it didn’t mask some lovely floral and lemony notes. Same in the mouth but no sense of the oak splinters the more egregious practitioners of that style used to embrace. This wine was balanced, clean and a great foil to my juicy steamers dipped in butter.

I don’t miss the ‘80s for many reasons, including that style of Chardonnay, but I do and will continue to appreciate it when it is done well. It just goes to show you that this wine wasn’t a one-trick pony. White Horse clearly got the memo!

While the overtly oaked style no longer rules the day, did you like it? Or do you still?