The tradition of growing grapes is almost as old as the hills on which they’re planted. But when we picture those vine-covered hills, most of us would sooner conjure Tuscany, Bordeaux, or the windswept Carneros Valley of California than Hastings, Minnesota. Yet increasingly, places like Hastings, Putney, Vermont, and Long Island, New York, are being transformed into grape-growing regions, thanks to a driven and ambitious generation of viticulturists. These against-the-grain growers need more than just good weather and great marketing to be successful; they need science and, like Hastings’ own Nan Bailly of Alexis Bailly Vineyard, faith.
It’s not that grapes won’t grow in cold climates—certain wild varieties, for instance, are indigenous to Minnesota—but rather a question of growing a grape worthy of eating, or pressing into wine. That goal came into focus around 1908, the year the University of Minnesota established its Horticultural Research Center, which was charged with finding ways to produce sustainable food crops from our short growing season and harsh climate. While grapes took a back seat to the more fashionable apple for decades, especially during Prohibition, exciting stuff started to happen in the late sixties. Elmer Swenson, who had been with the research center in the forties, returned with new findings from his own work with grape vines in Wisconsin. Shortly thereafter, a Minneapolis lawyer named David Bailly decided he was ready to take a gamble with his own love of wine.
Bailly bought a few acres in Hastings and planted them with French grapes, including Maréchal Foch and Seyval Blanc. He took to heart the French winemakers’ belief that vines must thrive through adversity—wind, sleet, snow, drought—in order to produce superior fruit. The motto for the Alexis Bailly Vineyard became “Where the grapes can suffer.” Bailly’s gamble paid off, and he began producing enough good wine to satisfy his soul—his Maréchal Foch, in particular, remains a supple, medium-bodied red wine that seems to defy its Midwestern heritage—if not quite enough to quit his day job.
David Bailly planted those vines more than thirty years ago, and every autumn since then, they have been buried in order to survive the winter. This fall, after the harvest, his daughter Nan plans to rip them out. Just as her father pioneered French grapes grown locally, she is leading the next charge in winemaking by using Midwestern hybrids.
It seems those wild Minnesota grapes, which coil their tentacles onto anything that stands still, are very important to the future of grape growing. While the fruit from these aggressive vines is small and inky, not much for consumption, what’s significant is the fact that they not only survive, but also flourish in cold climates. Back in the eighties, as David Bailly’s Maréchal Foch was winning accolades and medals from American Wine Society competitions, the U’s research center jump-started its grape program by building its own winery on the grounds in Chanhassen. Then horticulturalists began the long process of cutting and grafting the hearty Minnesota grape with more refined and palatable varieties. Peter Hemstad, one of the center’s primary viticulturists, believed so much in what he was seeing in Chanhassen that he planted his own vines and opened the St. Croix Vineyard in Stillwater.
Basically, it’s Hemstad’s job to think and drink: What kind of flavor components will emerge if he cuts a slice from a Burgundy vine and grafts it onto the unromantically named Number 1126 hybrid? Will it pick up the Burgundy’s tannic qualities or will it blend to form a completely different profile? Will the fruit hold on to the rich redness or will it mutate into a lighter or even gray shade? In 1995, the Horticultural Research Center released Frontenac, a red wine grape that can survive colder temperatures without being buried and is highly resistant to disease. Its garnet color and pleasant aroma (Bailly’s version of Frontenac has deep berry overtones and a smoky oak finish) put Frontenac grapes at the top of the list for Midwest growers.
The U of M’s little oenology project has become a national leader in cold-climate grape research. The self-proclaimed wine geeks at the research center are having an impact all around the country—even as far north as Quebec, where those who see their French heritage as a God-given right to produce wine use the research center as the ultimate resource. (They probably also encourage the dreams of those people who see starting your own vineyard as the next coolest thing after starting your own restaurant.) The bigger question may be, why bother? While medals and awards are handed out to winemakers from all over the country, when’s the last time someone brought a Missouri wine to a dinner party? Will cold-climate grapes ever produce vintages that are as successful as those from Napa Valley? In such a specialized and, some say, elitist industry, is there enough commerce to support local growers and justify the research?
Here’s where the larger purpose comes in. Maybe growing local grapes and producing local wines will make wine in general less intimidating to the average Joe—and so maybe there’ll be more average Joes drinking wine with their burgers. Maybe a Cedar Creek Syrah from Wisconsin would be an easier or friendlier choice for a first-time Syrah drinker than a bottle with a name he can’t pronounce. It doesn’t hurt that this wine’s big flavors of blackberry and plum and its spicy finish have earned numerous gold medals from the International Eastern Wine competition.
Imagine picking up a bottle of wine at the farmers’ market along with your locally grown and crafted produce, cheese, and meats. Wouldn’t it be a boon for grape growers everywhere if wine culture in this country began to grow because of people supporting their local vineyards? Nan Bailly certainly hopes so. That’s why she’s replacing her French vines with Minnesota hybrids. If the wine industry and the rapidly growing numbers of fledgling oenophiles who support it could lay down their snobbish beliefs that only grapes from perfect coastal conditions can make drinkable wines, there could be a beautiful future for Nan Bailly’s tiny Hastings vineyard, and others all around the region. Now might be a historic time to visit one of them.
Chasing Grapes
Alexis Bailly Vineyards is open on weekends and offers tastings for two dollars. (www.abvwines.com)
St. Croix Vineyards celebrates the harvest with a Grape Stomp festival on September 10 and 11. (www.scvwines.com)
Fieldstone Vineyards celebrates its harvest the last two weekends in September. (www.fieldstonevineyard.com)
Morgan Creek Vineyard is known for its gorgeous landscapes; its annual grape stomp is October 1.
(www.morgancreekvineyards.com)
For more Minnesota wineries, see the list on the
U of M’s Enology website: http://winegrapes.coafes.umn.edu
Leave a Reply Cancel reply