Chateau Bubba Grows Up

By John Elson

The Adventurous Oenophile is selecting wines to accompany a festive dinner. For aperitifs, the A.O. and his companion want a sparkling wine -- and what could be livelier than the 1986 Ste. Chapelle Blanc de Noir brut? With the appetizer, a glass of white wine would be appropriate: the A.O. selects a 1986 Anderson Valley Chardonnay. Since the diners have chosen meat entrees, the A.O. requests a bottle of Llano Estacado's 1986 Cellar Select Cabernet Sauvignon. And a non-vintage Johannisberg Riesling from Chaddsford Winery will set off dessert nicely. The sommelier takes the order with an approving smile.

This hypothetical (but possible) selection of wines -- all American, all good -- is singular in one respect. Not one of the wines is a product of California or New York, although these two rank first and a distant second among the nation's winemaking states. The sparkling aperitif comes from Idaho, the white wine from New Mexico, the red from Texas and the dessert wine from Pennsylvania.

Today 46 of the 50 states -- all but Alaska, Wyoming and North and South Dakota -- boast commercial operations that produce wine from grapes. Some are ma-and-pa vintners with an annual capacity of 1,000 cases or less. Others are industrial giants, like Washington's prizewinning Chateau Ste. Michelle, which turns out 500,000 cases a year of 14 different varietals. Most of these regional vintages, comparable to Europe's little country wines, have only local repute. But the White House has proudly served Cabernets from Texas, Pinot Noirs from Oregon and Chardonnays from Virginia and New York's Long Island at state dinners. A port from Missouri's Mount Pleasant vineyards won a prize in London. Wines from the Midwest, insists Chicago expert Patrick Fegan, "to an unbiased audience can stand up to wines from California and the rest of the world."

Making wine may not be as American as cherry pie, but the tradition is a lot older than the Constitution. French Huguenot settlers fermented juice from Florida's native muscadine grapes as early as 1565. In the 1780s, Thomas Jefferson scoured France for cuttings to replant at Monticello, his Virginia estate. (None took root, alas.) And Count Agoston Haraszthy, the patriarch of California vintners, started his first U.S. vineyard at what is now the Wollersheim winery in Prairie du Sac, Wis., in 1847. During the 19th century, wines from Ohio and Missouri won gold medals in European competitions, but thousands of vine-bearing acres in these and other states were plowed under during Prohibition.

The resurgence of regional wines has been spectacular. In New York acreage planted with vinifera grapes -- meaning the classical European varietals -- has vaulted from 349 to 2,135 since 1980. Much of that growth has taken place in virgin territory, the North Fork of Long Island, which is blessed with late frosts and mild winters. Chardonnays and Merlots from such vineyards as Hargrave, Palmer and Bedell Cellars have stunned French vintners with their style and breeding. So have Pinot Noirs from Adelsheim, Eyrie and Knudsen- Erath of Oregon -- to the point that one major Burgundy producer, Maison Joseph Drouhin, has begun planting this temperamental grape in the Willamette Valley. "We're in the limbo between national and regional wines," says Oregon-proud David Adelsheim. Texas has 26 wineries and 4,000 acres under cultivation -- and no one is making jokes these days about "Chateau Bubba" or "Vin de Lone Star."

Some regional vintners complain that their wines are victims of snobbism. Critics rave about the Champagne-like sparklers made by Willy Frank, whose father Konstantin was the first to prove that vinifera grapes could be grown in New York's Finger Lakes area. The praise hasn't helped sales much. "The New Yorker has almost a reverse chauvinism against anything made in New York," Frank says. "I have shipped more wine to Tokyo than to New York City." Chaddsford's Eric and Lee Miller have been luckier in persuading local restaurants, including Philadelphia's highly rated Le Bec-Fin, to serve their wines; since 1982, production has increased from 3,000 to 22,000 cases annually.

Climatic extremes ensure that many of the wines produced in the South and Northeast will never be more than marginal in quality. To make a profit, however, vintners must charge premium prices for what, realistically, is vin ordinaire. But for the Adventurous Oenophile and his ilk, the discovery of a promising little Merlot from North Carolina (try Biltmore's) or a delicate Eiswein from Michigan (taste one from Chateau Grand Traverse) will always be worth the cost.

With reporting by Christine Gorman/New York and Richard Woodbury/Lubbock