American wine did not grow steadily. It started over. Prohibition, from 1920 to 1933, banned the making and selling of alcohol and left the industry in ruins; by the time it was repealed, only a few hundred bonded wineries were still standing, and a wine map that had once included Missouri, Ohio and New York shrank towards California. The recovery took forty years and one afternoon in Paris. On 24 May 1976, at a blind tasting later nicknamed the Judgment of Paris, a Chardonnay from Chateau Montelena, up at the northern end of the Napa Valley, and a Napa Cabernet Sauvignon from Stag's Leap Wine Cellars came top of flights that also held white Burgundy and classed-growth Bordeaux. It changed how the world looked at New World wine.
Officially, American wine is organised by AVAs, or American Viticultural Areas. The first was Augusta, Missouri, approved in 1980; Napa Valley followed in 1981. An AVA marks out a place and nothing more. Unlike a French appellation, it does not dictate which grapes you plant or how you make the wine. Wine is now made in all fifty states, though California accounts for around four fifths of the total.
What American wine tastes like
Most American wine tastes ripe. Dependable sun means grapes reach full maturity, so fruit flavours come forward and generous, tannins feel rounded rather than austere, and alcohol often sits a little higher than in European equivalents.
A classic Napa Valley or Paso Robles Cabernet Sauvignon gives blackcurrant and black cherry wrapped in sweet spice and vanilla from new oak, finishing soft and plush. Zinfandel is brambly and peppery, sometimes almost jammy. Chardonnay covers an enormous range, from buttery and oak-scented to lean, taut and citrusy. But the cooler corners tell a different story: Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley is paler, tart-cherried and earthy, and Riesling from the Finger Lakes is bracingly acidic, all lime and green apple, either bone dry or gently off-dry.





