When driving through rural Maine’s hilly countryside, most wouldn’t think twice about the unremarkable low-lying fields beyond the road. But step onto one of those stretches of green and you’ll notice red-tipped leaves alongside emerald-hued foliage, tall white flowers dancing in the breeze, and tight bunches of ripening blueberries huddled together against the bluster. What may have appeared at first glance to be a mere meadow is in fact a kaleidoscope of colors and textures. This is a wild blueberry field, the bedrock of a burgeoning wine industry in Maine that could help save one of the state’s most precious heritage crops.

Wild blueberries—smaller and more tart than the produce aisle’s hybrid varieties, and genetically distinct from them—are indigenous to this state. “Maine wild blueberries are not to be grouped with hybrid blueberries from other states, nations, and continents,” says winemaker Michael Terrien, co-owner of Obsidian Wine Company and founder of Terrien Wines in Northern California, as he confidently threads his way through a blueberry field. Stopping abruptly, the Maine native bends down to examine a cluster of fruit—‘wild blues,’ as they are affectionately called. His eyes, the same color as his prized berries, radiate enthusiasm as he explains that the wild fruit has grown naturally in Maine for more than 10,000 years. Bushes are never planted; rather, farmers establish their businesses around naturally occurring shrubs. “Therein lies the fruit’s sustainability bonafides; we haven’t messed with the genes,” says Terrien, which means wild blueberries are inherently more resilient against pests and disease. 

“Maine is the only state with wild blues in any significant quantity,” he explains. However, “precisely because they have never been bred, they are at a commercial disadvantage to hybrids.” Yields are low: on average, a field can only produce about 2 tons per acre, according to the USDA and National Agricultural Statistics Service, far less than the 10 tons per acre of commercially bred varieties, and wild blues can only be harvested every other year. Competition from Canada—the only other place that grows wild blueberries abundantly enough to be commercially viable—is also hurting Maine’s farmers. In recent years, the value and volume of the state’s wild blues have fluctuated wildly: in 2017, prices dipped to 25 cents per pound (2021 saw some relief, with prices reaching 70 cents per pound), and in 2020, the crop’s yield fell below 48 million pounds, the lowest haul since 2004. 

Baked into muffins, folded into pancake batter, or eaten by the juicy handful are how most people know and love wild blues. But Terrien saw the potential for something more. The winemaker realized he could apply his vintner skills to the fruit—and help revive the struggling crop by increasing demand, generating interest, and providing farmers with more opportunities. 

Fruit wines are not a new concept, but many are cloyingly sweet. Terrien knew blueberries had all the components to make a dry, vinous-like wine. Blueberries contain sugars that can be converted into alcohol—part of the standard winemaking process. Plus, the naturally occurring antioxidants allow wines to age slowly, protect them against oxidation, and help keep the beverage stable, meaning little to no sulfur needs to be added. The one thing missing is tannins, which provide body and texture to wine. Through trial and error, Terrien and his co-founder Eric Martin found that adding bubbles to blueberry wine gave it a texturally interesting mouthfeel that replicated the sensations created by tannins. Finally, in 2014, Bluet was born.

The first sip of a blueberry wine is tart, but distinctly redolent of the namesake fruit. What follows on the palate is an elegant spice, calling to mind black pepper. With its acidity and sparkling texture, the beverage is lively and refreshing, not heavy or syrupy. It is, dare I say, surprisingly wine-like. 

Like all sparkling wines, blueberry wine should be served chilled, and its low level of 7% alcohol by volume (ABV) makes it ideal for the warm summer months. For an extremely easy cocktail, Terrien recommends adding a splash of triple sec and a sprig of mint.

Cognizant of the challenges facing wild blueberry farmers, the state introduced a bill in March to make the state’s Down East area, which is home to a dense population of blueberry fields, a National Heritage Area. If the bill passes, the resulting job opportunities and increased tourism will provide much-needed funding for the region’s agricultural industry.

Small farmers make up about 40 percent of the wild blueberry industry, and Terrien sources blueberries exclusively from these boutique farms to help them increase production and ultimately revenue. But one winemaker can’t shoulder an industry alone, which is why Terrien is encouraging other entrepreneurial souls to start their own wineries.

One protege is R.A.S., founded by Joe Appel, Dan Roche, and Emily Smith. The winery recently released the second vintage of its Arkadia blueberry sparkling wine. R.A.S.’s fruit, sourced from organic farms, goes through a longer maceration period than Bluet’s, which gives the wine a deeper color and more intense flavors. The makers also use naturally occurring yeast to kickstart fermentation. The result is a wine with an earthy and savory quality, and intense herbal notes reminiscent of pomegranate and rhubarb. And the company is not limiting itself to sparkling wine. The makers have also produced an aromatized wine called A7 Americano that infuses wild blueberry wine with organic herbs, spices, and fruit, then fortifies it with brandy. The resulting beverage can be used in vermouth-based cocktails such as Manhattans and Negronis, or enjoyed on the rocks. “We wanted to make a fortified/aromatized wine that could be used creatively as a mixer, but could also provide lots of pleasure when sipped on its own,” says Appel.

In this nascent industry, there’s plenty of room for experimentation. Terrien’s assistant winemaker, Davis Martinec, plans to harvest his first crop of blueberries this year for his own yet-to-be-named label. While he’s still figuring out his style, he knows one thing is clear: the quality will be there. “[In Maine] we don’t have to try and force something into a box, like trying to grow grapes where they don’t want to grow. Here, you’re taking a fruit that loves being here, that wants to be here, and making wine out of it.”

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When you look around Portugal’s Vinho Verde region, which is blanketed with emerald vineyards, it will seem obvious how the area got its name. But verde (Portuguese for green) refers to the style of wine—meant to be enjoyed soon after bottling—for which the region is best known: light, fresh, and quaffable, with just a hint of spritz to tease the tongue. It would be a shame to pigeonhole Vinho Verde, though, as just a place for picnic wines. Throughout the years, a focus on single-varietal bottlings such as Alvarinho, Loueiro, and other native grapes began to reveal a more complex side to Vinho Verde. Quinta de Santiago is among the wineries ushering in a renaissance.

Vinho Verde—including its especially celebrated winemaking subregion of Monçao e Melgaço—is nestled in the northwestern part of the country, where Spain winks at you from just a couple of miles away. This area is renowned for Alvarinho, a distinctive style of wine with bright citrus and tropical notes, not to mention salinity and minerality, that can be attributed to the location’s granitic soils and warmer climate. Bordered by the Minho River, and still relatively close to the ocean, the volley of sea and land provides some of the most soulful cuisine in all of Portugal, and Spain’s influence kisses many of the dishes. (Bacalhau, or cod, is popular—instigated by the Bacalhau Campaign, a mandate set in 1934 to expand the cod fishing industry in Portugal—and the abundance of livestock farms means lamb and pork weigh heavily into the diet.) It’s here in Monçao e Melgaço where Quinta de Santiago got its start.

The land on which this winery sits was purchased in 1899 by the great-grandfather of current proprietor Joana Santiago. Grapes were an afterthought on the family estate; fruit, livestock, and grains were the heart of the farm. The recognition of VinhoVerde as an official wine region in 1908—and the potential for a new agricultural industry—didn’t sway the polyculture on the estate either. It wasn’t until the 1970s, when growers in the region noticed that the Alvarinho grape variety was thriving more than the red grapes, that this type of wine saw a renaissance in Melgaço and began to supplant many of the less profitable red grapes. Joana’s grandmother, Maria de Lima Esteves Santiago, began to take an interest in viticulture—and quietly transformed the estate.

Affectionately called Mariazinha by her family, she was what one might now call a garagiste winemaker (someone who makes wine casually at home). She lacked formal wine training but built upon the rudimentary winemaking knowledge that was freely shared among neighbors to produce small amounts of wine. Flouting government regulations, Maria sold her back-of-house wines through the front door of the family home, while keeping up a legitimate business selling grapes.

The moon and its cycles influenced her work. She followed its rhythms, letting it dictate when to prune and plant. (For example, when the moon is in a descending phase in the sky, energy is directed towards roots and soils; this is the time to prune vines and spread compost.) A focus on natural composting to limit chemical fertilizers helped nurture the soils and the vines. Although her practices weren’t given any particular name at the time, she essentially followed what would today be considered biodynamic farming. 

As a young girl, Joana spent every vacation at her grandmother’s property working alongside Mariazinha in the vineyards and fields. Although Joana says the family was fairly aristocratic, the farm and the winery were Maria’s domain. “I never even saw my grandpa enter the winery,” Joana recalls with a laugh. And when Joana and Maria would retire for the day, they would head to the kitchen. Like her winemaking, Maria’s cooking was also guided by her intuition. Although she had collections of recipes, she still let her senses make the final decision when it came to adding a pinch of salt or extra dash of spice. Joana attributes her love of both cooking and winemaking to Maria. 

It might seem strange to make a life change at the age of 86, but when stars align, certain choices become inevitable. Not only was Monçao e Melgaço gaining popularity for its wines, Joana was then pregnant with her first child and ready to quit her job as a lawyer to build a business. “My grandmother challenged me not to start anything else,” Joana recalls. Maria pointed to the beautiful fruit on her vines and the popularity of her garagiste wines—and announced it was time to stop selling grapes and start making wine under the family name.

Joana’s father joined the ambitious women in the endeavor, and the Quinta de Santiago label instantly became a multigenerational affair. But Maria spearheaded the operation. She was the one to name the estate and put the now-signature hearts—inspired by embroidery styles of the region—on the label. She also worked with a trained winemaker to further refine the operation’s techniques.

Sadly, Maria passed away two years later. “2010 was the only vintage she ever saw in the market,” says Joana. But her legacy lives on through the estate’s winemaking techniques. Quinta de Santiago uses native yeasts for fermentation, which is not a very common practice in the region. Instead of immediately pressing and separating the juice from the skins, the winemakers put the wine through a short period of maceration to give it a bit of texture. And they continue to work as sustainably as possible in the winery and the vineyards, prioritizing water conservation, especially when it comes to irrigating vineyards, and limiting chemical use. The winery also actively participates in the Porto Protocol, an international non-profit organization focused on combating climate change in the wine industry. Joana’s grandmother’s presence still lingers in the estate, with Joana constantly pushing and evolving what is possible with their wines. And because bright acidity runs through all the bottles, the wines seem to channel the very energy of Maria herself. 

Given the estate’s focus on single-varietal whites, especially Alvarinho, it’s no surprise that white wines grace the table more often than reds in Joana’s home. Fermentation in oak barrels and judicious use of malolactic fermentation provides a roundness and structure to the citrus fruits that enable the whites to pair well with Maria’s rich or even unctuous dishes, some of which are preserved in her worn, dog-eared handwritten cookbooks, which are some of Joana’s most cherished possessions. Octopus rice is a must-have during the holidays, while lamb Monção roasted in the estate’s wood-burning oven always fills the kitchen with toasty aromas. One of Joana’s particular favorites is ham pudim, which reminds her of her grandmother’s sweet tooth.

Maria set in motion a new identity for the family—as winemakers. She taught them to take risks, to prioritize sustainability and low-intervention winemaking, and to make drinkers rethink what they know about wines from the Vinho Verde region. Today, Quinta de Santiago has graduated from a backyard project to a full-fledged winery—and Maria’s vision continues to be the guiding light.

Recipes

Foda à Moda de Monção (Portuguese-Style Leg of Lamb with Saffron Rice)

Tomato and Octopus Rice

Bacalao a Monção

Pudim Abade de Priscos

The post In Portugal’s Vinho Verde, Wine Is Green in More Ways Than One appeared first on Saveur.