By Matt Kettmann
October 23, 2026
In the sprawling, sun-drenched vineyards of California, the narrative of winemaking has long been dominated by the heavyweights of the Old World: Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay, and Pinot Noir. However, a quiet revolution is taking root. A new generation of vintners, driven by a desire to reconnect with their ancestral lands, is importing, cultivating, and championing rare, ancient grapevine varieties that have little history in the American soil. From the high-altitude slopes of Armenia to the misty islands of Greece and the historic valleys of Japan, these "heritage grapes" are transforming the American wine landscape, offering a sensory bridge to the past while providing a potential roadmap for a more climate-resilient future.
The Koshu Connection: A Japanese Legacy in Napa
Michelle Sakazaki, the founder of Kazumi Wines, never initially viewed her career in fashion design as a path to viticulture. Born in Sacramento and raised in Tokyo, her transition into the wine industry was unexpected, triggered by her father, Jack Sakazaki, a man with a penchant for identifying untapped markets.
In 2018, the Sakazakis discovered that the Foundation Plant Services (FPS) at UC Davis was cultivating Koshu—an ancient Japanese grape variety. Long misunderstood as a European import brought to Japan during the colonial era, modern genetic studies have revealed that Koshu is a complex hybrid of Vitis vinifera and wild East Asian vines. Traditionally, the grape was treated as a table fruit in Japan, with winemaking applications only gaining traction in the late 1800s.
"They believe it traveled from the Caucasus through the Silk Road to China," Michelle explains. Her father, who spent four decades in sports marketing before retiring to Napa, was captivated by the prospect of bringing this heritage grape to the United States. He utilized his natural salesmanship to convince two local Napa growers to plant this unknown variety. By 2019, the Sakazakis were propagating their own canes.
Today, the project has expanded to eight acres across Northern California, including sites in the Napa Valley and Lodi. Kazumi Wines now produces roughly 1,000 cases of still Koshu and 250 cases of sparkling, making it the first commercial planting of the variety in the country. For Michelle, the wine is more than a novelty; it is a flagship product that bridges her Japanese heritage with her California reality.
Chronology of Cultural Reclamation
The trend of "heritage planting" is not entirely new, but its modern iteration is distinct. For centuries, American winemakers of French, Italian, and Spanish descent have imported the vines of their ancestors. However, the current wave is defined by the difficulty of the task: these vintners are not merely importing well-documented vines; they are navigating complex quarantine protocols, long-term genetic preservation, and the steep learning curve of farming obscure, non-native cultivars.
- 1971: UC Davis acquires a Vranac clone, though it remains under research-only status for decades.
- 2001: Rick Quinn opens the Opolo Vineyards tasting room in Paso Robles, establishing a cultural hub for Balkan wine and food.
- 2011: Anna and David deLaski taste Gruner Veltliner in the Edna Valley, sparking the creation of Solminer.
- 2018: The first 1,000 Vranac vines are planted at Opolo. Simultaneously, Michelle Sakazaki begins her Koshu propagation project.
- 2023–2025: A surge in interest in rare Armenian and Cretan varieties sees a significant increase in nursery testing and importation at FPS.
The Balkan Influence in Paso Robles
Rick Quinn, the co-founder of Opolo Vineyards, represents the archetype of this movement. With grandparents from Herzegovina and Montenegro, Quinn grew up in a household steeped in the traditions of the Dalmatian Coast. When he founded Opolo in 1999, his mission was to translate that heritage into the Paso Robles terroir.
The winery quickly became a cultural destination, known for hosting massive harvest festivals that evoke the spirit of the Balkans. "It’s like My Big Fat Greek Wedding on steroids," Quinn jokes. Beyond the food, he sought to bring the region’s primary red grape, Vranac, to California. The name, which translates to "black stallion," describes a grape that is darker and more robust than Petite Sirah. After navigating the regulatory hurdles of registering a new variety with the U.S. government, Opolo successfully planted three acres. Despite limiting sales to two bottles per customer, the wine consistently sells out, proving that consumers are hungry for the unique narratives these grapes provide.
Supporting Data: Diversification as Strategy
While the emotional connection to these grapes is the primary driver, there is a pragmatic argument for their expansion. As climate change continues to stress traditional viticultural regions, the search for varieties that can withstand heat and maintain acidity is paramount.
The Koshu grape, for example, is noted for its ability to ripen slowly while retaining structural integrity. Similarly, the varieties cultivated by James and Manoli Boutzoukas at Boutz Cellars—including Assyrtiko, Xinomavro, and the Cretan Liatiko—are adapted to the extreme diurnal shifts of their ancestral home. James notes that the latitude of their Cretan village matches that of Paso Robles, suggesting that these varieties are not just culturally significant but biologically suited to their new environments.
At Solminer in Los Olivos, Anna deLaski is a vocal advocate for this diversity. Growing Austrian staples like Gruner Veltliner, Blaufränkisch, and St. Laurent alongside more traditional California varieties, she emphasizes that biodiversity is the ultimate insurance policy against the unpredictable impacts of climate change. "In our region, typically only French grapes are grown," she notes. "But resilience comes from having a lot of different grapes."
Official Responses and Industry Impact
The academic and regulatory side of this movement, led by entities like the UC Davis Foundation Plant Services (FPS), has seen a marked increase in demand for rare vine clones. However, it is a process that requires immense patience and resources.
Ryan Deovlet of Deovlet Wines in San Luis Obispo remains in a state of professional "limbo." He holds exclusive access to Areni Noir vines at the nursery but has yet to find the perfect vineyard site to plant them. His dedication is deeply personal; his grandfather escaped the Armenian genocide in 1914. For Deovlet, the project is a reclamation of his identity. "I started thinking how incredible it would be when bottling my Areni Noir to add the ‘-ian’ back to my surname on that particular label," he says. His experience highlights the intersection of historical trauma, identity, and the agricultural craft of winemaking.
The Future: What the Homeland Tastes Like
As these wines hit the market, they are being met with enthusiasm from a consumer base increasingly interested in the "story" behind the bottle. The flavors are distinct and often challenging:
- Koshu: Offers an umami-forward character that pairs exceptionally well with Japanese cuisine.
- Vranac: A powerful, dark red with intense fruit profiles, standing in stark contrast to lighter Californian styles.
- Liatiko: Highly versatile, capable of being produced in styles ranging from fresh and light to deeply aged and complex.
- Areni Noir: A unique bridge between the characteristics of Pinot Noir, Sangiovese, Grenache, and Gamay.
The rise of these heritage grapes signals a shift in the California wine industry. It is a move away from the monoculture of the late 20th century toward a more inclusive, globally informed viticulture. For vintners like Michelle Sakazaki, Rick Quinn, and Anna deLaski, these vines are more than just a commodity; they are a living archive. By planting the grapes of their homelands, they are not only preserving history but also crafting a more sustainable and diverse future for the California wine industry. As climate challenges mount, these "obscure" varieties may well become the mainstream solutions of tomorrow, proving that the most forward-thinking viticulture often involves looking back to one’s roots.
