Sometimes you need a comfort wine. I realized that a few years back when I was apartment-hopping through New York, feeling rootless and unsettled, stuck in a closet-size apartment on the Upper West Side. My wine collection was scattered to the four corners. I needed a dose of grounding. That dose of grounding was Chablis. Chablis is the definition of being rooted -- a true expression of its chilly, chalky corner of France's Yonne department, translated through Chardonnay (mostly) without interference. The power of Chablis is the power of transparency. Here's the good news: Chablis from the currently available 2007 vintage requires no prefaces, no asterisks. It is delicious. It's not merely a return to form for Chablis, the best year since 2004; it's a reminder of why northern Burgundy continues to stand as a defiant outpost against the sacrifice of Chardonnay to the gods of excess. These are wines that find the elusive balance of fruit and flint. Chablis, after all, is the quintessence of soil subverting fruit. The native Kimmeridgean soils found at top sites -- clay and limestone flecked with marine fossils like the shell of the (i(exogyra virgula(/i(oyster -- also give the nearby Champagne region its austerity, hence why Chablis, virtually equidistant between Champagne and Burgundy, feels an affinity toward both. In some spots in Chablis, the chalk rises up to the surface, a reminder of its role. My consideration of 2007s was mostly village Chablis, with a handful of Petit Chablis (a little brother largely grown on younger Portlandian soils) and some premier cru, which in Chablis mostly signifies a slightly higher pedigree from any of 40 specific sites. Chablis' seven grand cru sites are more distinct in their signatures, but they need time. Most of Chablis' prominent names are in fine form for 2007, so it's easy to find a good bottle. Those of William Fevre, the established (i(domaine(/i(now owned by Champagne house Henriot, are laser-sharp. Fevre's modest use of mostly old oak in no way dampens the wines' precision. A handful of lesser-known names are bringing diversity to the Chablis regimen. Take Alice and Olivier De Moor. Based in the village of Courgis, the couple has been harvesting their three plots since 1994. Their dedication to organic farming of less hallowed ground has shown the power of Chablis soils. Also look for Herv? Azo, a small producer in Prehy; now owned by Jean-Marc Brocard, the property's steel-aged wines have a bracing edge. And there's Laurent Tribut, brother-in-law of the well-known Vincent Dauvissat, whose traditional style has become a new Chablis benchmark. Because 2007's pleasures extend across the board, you can easily enjoy Petit Chablis on a moment's notice, pop open a village bottle for a quick dinner, and tuck away the grand crus. That sense of pleasure would be enough. But the unblinking sense of place makes Chablis' outstanding year all the better. 