I want to get it out on the table: I am just as confused as any of you are by many of the popular trends in wine today. And it isn’t just the often hilarious terminology (I could write an entire post on that), it’s the absolutism and lack of gray areas that seem to prevail in the wine community’s opinions on certain things.

It seems that once a high-profile wine professional has decided that he or she likes or doesn’t like something, the rest of the wine community follows like lemmings off a cliff. It is this very behavior that has turned me into a difficult, fussy contrarian.

I don’t set out to be difficult (though my wife may beg to differ, especially while we are watching TV). But for some reason, whenever there’s a consensus about one popular thing being plunked down into a solid “good” or “bad” category, it immediately raises red flags for me and I’ll usually take the opposite position, just to try and even the score.

Now, I will be the first to admit that I am not immediately drawn to a chardonnay that has been either fermented or aged excessively in oak. This was a style that caught on in the late ’70s and grew in popularity through the ’80s, until the market was saturated with this style of chard in the ’90s. Then came the backlash.

It started with wine geeks who, rightfully, hated the cheaply made, “oaky” chards that tasted like a stick of butter nailed to a two-by-four. These wines were often not even made using oak barrels, which are very expensive. Instead, oak chips were (and still are) dumped into a stainless steel vat of wine to add oaky tones. Sometimes, even sawdust is used.

These are terrible wines. You will get no argument from me about that.

However, there has been a hysteria over the last decade or so about chardonnays that have any oak flavor at all. Any use of oak is looked down upon and thought of as bourgeois. This is an incredibly ignorant point of view that has, unfortunately, become the norm now in the oversaturated world of faux wine connoisseurs.

Oak is good. Oak can be amazing, actually. It takes more talent to use oak correctly in winemaking than to not use it at all. When done the right way, the end product is breathtaking.

For a tremendous example of what the new world can offer along the lines of well-made, oak-laden chardonnays, look to Arcadian Vineyard “Sleepy Hollow” Chardonnay 2006 ($36.99 at Astor Wines, 399 Lafayette St., at E. 4th St., 212-674-7500, astorwines.com) from California’s Central Coast. This wine is both fermented and aged in French oak barrels. The result isn’t an over-the-top, wet particle board smackdown; instead, it starts on the nose with ripe oranges and notes of French bread. On the palate, the super-ripe citrus continues with pineapple through the middle. The end has flavors of honey, white pepper and even a hint of caramel. This vino is a meal all by itself, but would be the ultimate match-up for lobster and drawn butter.

The old world has plenty of good, oaky chardonnay to bring to the table, as well. The Chateau Fuissé Pouilly-Fuissé “Les Brûlés” 2007 ($60 at Sherry-Lehmann, 505 Park Ave., at 59th St., 212-838-7500, sherry-lehmann.com) from Burgundy is a touch lighter, but no less intense. There are massive amounts of ginger and crème brûlée scents. The palate is all about vanilla, white peach and spice. The finish has hints of cinnamon, allspice and quince. This wine is a masterpiece.

So, break off from the mob and open your mind. Try tasting a truly great wine that is made, if not to please the masses, at least those for who appreciate expert craftsmanship.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

I tend to be a bit of a contrarian, especially when it comes to food and wine trends. I remember my confusion and disgust the first time someone laid a plate in front of me with “foam” on it. I recall with horror the first time I heard a famous chef declare that he would never again run a kitchen that didn’t include a sous vide device. And I definitely recall reacting defensively against the overblown backlash against oaky, California-style chardonnays. Some would argue that the latter is still in full effect, even today.

Josh Perilo

While I don’t seek out chardonnays that are overtly oaky or buttery, I will defend the well-made ones— less because I drink them on a regular basis and more because I understand where they’re coming from. That particular style of oaky white wine came out of a California dream to replicate the delicate, oaky white wines of Burgundy in the 1970s. But because the climate, soil and oak were all different, they produced a slightly different result. The good ones created their own unique profile, and a new style of chardonnay developed organically.

I understand the complaints, believe me! There are more chardonnays that taste like a stick of butter nailed to a two-by-four than you can shake an oak branch at. And I concede that sometimes, all you want is a simple yet elegant glass of unadulterated chardonnay. Well, today, I will review some of my favorites from this category of strictly not oaky chardonnays from around the world.

The first stop is northern Italy. Trentino-Alto Adige, to be exact, with the simple, tasty and inexpensive Mezzacorona Chardonnay 2010 ($7.99 at Beacon Wines and Spirits, 2120 Broadway at 74th St., 212-877-0028). This area is best known for its pinot grigios, so it isn’t a shock that this chardonnay is reminiscent of that racy, citrusy varietal. On the nose there is only the tiniest hint of vanilla, but what leaps out is the scent of wet river rock. The palate is relatively layered for a wine of this price point. More minerality throughout with hints of lemon peel in the middle and a crisp, mouthwatering finish.

To prove that Californians can make really terrific chardonnays without a hint of smoke or butter, look no further than the Stratton Lummis Chardonnay 2009 ($17.99 at 67 Wine and Spirits, 179 Columbus Ave. at 68th St., 212-724-6767). While the nose may lead one to believe that there might have been at least a touch of oak in this wine’s past, with smooth scents of vanilla bean and white peach, this vino has seen no wood whatsoever. Flavors of clean stone fruit explode up front. Lots of pear and hints of apricot abound. There is a refreshing backbone of acidity, but the focus is soft rather than laser sharp. The finish is all orange blossom and candied tangerine peel.

Also from California and tasting even leaner and racier than the Lummis is the Healdsburg Ranch Chardonnay 2010 ($14.99 at Mister Wright Fine Wines and Spirits, 1593 3rd Ave. betw. 89th & 90th Sts., 212-722-4564). This wine tastes more like a pinot blanc than a chardonnay. Lime zest on the nose leads to a fresh and zesty front of palate. Delicate notes of green apple and chervil lead to a short but clean finish.

Then there is, of course, the mother of all unoaked chardonnays: Chablis. For the price, it would be difficult to find one better than the Louis Michel et Fils Chablis 2009 ($31.99 at K&D Wines and Spirits, 1366 Madison Ave. betw. 95th & 96th Sts., 212-289-1818). Chablis is the northernmost growing area in the Burgundy region and, unlike the rest of Burgundy, their chardonnays traditionally see no oak at all. The Louis Michel is no different, with powerful limestone and lemon oil scents right out of the bottle. A refreshing hit of orange pith right up front is followed by delicious notes of lemon curd. The middle is rife with green, grassy herbs. The finish has hints of endive and more wet limestone.

While not all oaky chardonnays deserve the bad rap they get, there are unoaked versions of the famous grape that deserve just as much time in the spotlight.