What North Carolina Wine Has Taught Me About Place and Time

A 3 month check-in: here are 5 wines I've tasted and loved.

If you want, you can listen to the audio version of this article while you stare into your wine glass or follow a butterfly.

Wine is about place, and the most important thing I’ve learned in my first 3 months here in Western NC is that you’re missing the point if you ask Appalachia to be Tuscany.

There’s a reason that European wine producers often tout that they are fourth, fifth, or ninth-generation winemakers. It’s the same reason they point out that their winemaking traditions date to antiquity. If your winemaking style was established by the Phoenicians or even Medieval monks, your wine has stood the test of time.

It also demonstrates just how long it takes people to figure out what wine fits their region perfectly. Some grapes are more resilient than others, and some climates are more careful with the less resilient ones. And it takes a lot of trial and error to hit that sweet spot.

First, it takes a new grapevine 4-6 years to bear fruit. Even then, the fruit is young. As the vine ages over its lifespan of around 50 years, the quality of that fruit will increase and eventually, yield will decrease. In the wine world, we’re cuckoo for old vines for this reason.

And if the winemaker gets the plant in the ground and waits around long enough for it to bear fruit, they only get one try per year to figure out what to make of that fruit. It takes an entire year to do it, during which each step is made one time. Experimenting with what works, and learning from one’s mistakes…to say it’s a long game is an understatement. And then, if you spend your entire life devoting yourself to the process, but don’t have a younger generation willing and able to carry it on, then what?

This is why I think that all winemakers are, adorably, a little crazy. 

The time it took for Chianti to find its voice

The red wines of Chianti today are made from Sangiovese, for the most part. But in the beginning, these wines, first recorded in the 13th century, were white. Then they switched to red grapes, making wine from local Canaiolo Nero. It wasn’t until the 19th century, over 600 years after the inception of winemaking in the area, that Baron Bettino Ricasoli began experimenting with other red grapes—ones that might be better suited to the local terroir.

North Carolina winemaking doesn’t date to antiquity. But it does go as far back as American history does. One of the earliest appeals of this continent to 16th-century explorers was the abundance of wild grapevines lapping up the shore.

Despite this history, winemaking in North Carolina is relatively new. Early American colonizers didn’t understand how to work with the native grapes, and then once we began to figure it out, Prohibition shut the industry down. Most of the wineries operating today are younger than 20 years old—in wine terms, this makes the North Carolina wine scene a newborn baby.

Global warming has taught us the value of local products. I think it’s really important for wine lovers in the South to get excited about our respective regions. Our enthusiasm, I think, can sustain aspiring winemakers. I’ve had some winemakers tell me that the Southeast is the most challenging climate to grow grapes, to which other winemakers have said, “no. Just plant the right grapes.” Here are some right ones I’ve come across so far.

True Player / plēb urban winery.

Someone get me a quill; this wine is from another world where I am not me and here is somewhere else. Rainbow Bright red, smelling of strawberry shortcake, red popsicle, high acid, and a touch of structure, this wine bats its eyelashes and I lean in. It’s the kind of wine that can pull off its outfit, it is the vibe…is this what the kids are calling rizz? Beaujolais lovers will take to this wine straight away, and I would have it with a butternut squash, goat cheese, walnut situation.

The wine is made by a French hybrid developed in Alsace called Maréchal Foch, blended with a little Montepulciano. Fermented in a concrete egg made with local materials—you guys, concrete eggs are magical.

Traminette Petillant Natural / Euda Wine

This is the most understated expression of this perfumed-as-the-day-is-long grape I’ve encountered yet. The nose is light and springy—as in the season, but maybe also the motion. It smells like I’ve cleaned the house and the windows are thrown open to invite the outside world in, making me feel soft and light-hearted. One of my favorite feelings. A touch of flower, clean laundry, and green apple. The sparkle is soft, like a cat slow-blinking at me.

The wine is made from an French-American hybrid called Traminette, and it’s related to floral Gewürztraminer, which you can smell right away.

Red Wolf / Addison Farms Winery

A really important bottle to me, this Sangiovese Piquette was the first to hint that maybe there was more to North Carolina than my current education was telling me. A low-alcoholic wine, too, for those of us wanting to lighten our load, Red Wolf comes in at 6% or 7% ABV. That’s the beauty of piquette, a sparkling wine made from grape pomace. It’s the shwag of wine, and this one is dry, earthy, with tart red fruit.

Its easy-going nature makes it very food-friendly, and very afternoon friendly.

Ovina / Piccione Vineyards

I tasted this wine blind among about 20 others, and the first thing I wrote in my notes was: pronounced flowers, smells French. I thought, maybe an Alsatian Riesling because it had high acidity, was lightly sweet, and a little grassy. Lots of sunshine and cantaloupe, I assured the pages of my notebook.

Nope! Not at all. Ovina is a blend of 75% Vermentino, 24% Pinot Grigio, and a touch of Sagrantino rosé from the Swan Creek AVA. I’ll remember this wine as the second NC bottle I tasted blind, and the second one I guessed to be French, too.

Crimson Creek Chambourcin / JOLO Vineyards

Among the first NC wines to have me scribbling in my notebook—a personal indication that the wine is good, this wine smelled of fresh red cherries, roses, clove, and wood spice. Tasted juicy, with a little tobacco—that note seals the deal for me. I love a tobacco note!

The wine is made from a French-American hybrid called Chambourcin, and I’ve personally made note to keep tabs on it—I think this grape is a star.