Roots Replanted: How American Vintners Are Reclaiming Heritage Through Ancient Grapes

By Matt Kettmann
October 23, 2026

In the rolling, sun-drenched hills of the Napa Valley, a quiet revolution is taking root. For decades, the region has been synonymous with the noble varieties of Bordeaux: Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Chardonnay. Yet, for Michelle Sakazaki, the founder of Kazumi Wines, the future of the valley lies not in the familiar, but in the ancestral.

Sakazaki, a Sacramento-born former fashion designer who spent her formative years in Tokyo, never envisioned that her path to winemaking would be paved by her Japanese heritage. However, in 2018, a discovery at the University of California, Davis, Foundation Plant Services (FPS) changed the trajectory of her career. She learned that the nursery was cultivating Koshu, an ancient Japanese grape variety.

For generations, it was assumed that Koshu was introduced to Japan from Europe via maritime trade during the colonial era. Recent genetic studies, however, have painted a more complex picture, identifying Koshu as a unique hybrid of Vitis vinifera and wild East Asian vines that reached the archipelago millennia ago. This revelation sparked a familial mission, turning a niche curiosity into a flagship operation.

The Chronology of a Botanical Bridge

The journey of these heritage vines from their native soils to American earth is rarely simple. It requires patience, bureaucratic navigation, and a deep sense of purpose.

The Sakazakis’ venture began when Jack Sakazaki—Michelle’s father, a retired sports-marketing executive—became fascinated by the UC Davis plantings. Drawing on four decades of business acumen, he began the work of introducing this obscure variety to local growers. "He somehow convinced two growers in Napa to plant this unknown Japanese variety on their properties," Michelle recalls. "My dad is the best salesman ever."

By 2019, the propagation process was well underway. Today, seven years later, the project has expanded across eight acres, including sites in the Napa Valley and the warmer climate of Lodi. Kazumi Wines now produces 1,000 cases of still white Koshu and 250 cases of sparkling, with an additional 100 cases aging in extended tirage.

This trend is not isolated to Japanese viticulture. Across California, other winemakers are tracing their lineages back to the Old World, bringing rare, indigenous grapes to the American market.

Rick Quinn, founder of Opolo Vineyards in Paso Robles, began his own journey in 1999. Raised in Duluth, Minnesota, by parents of Herzegovinian and Montenegrin descent, Quinn sought to bridge his Balkan roots with his California reality. After years of successful home winemaking and real estate, he established Opolo, creating a cultural hub that celebrated the Dalmatian Coast. His efforts to import Vranac—a robust red grape whose name translates to "black stallion"—required years of federal registration and coordination with UC Davis. By 2018, the first vines were in the ground, and today, the limited production of 300 cases sells out almost instantly.

Similarly, at Boutz Cellars, James and Manoli Boutzoukas are meticulously recreating the viticultural landscape of their family village in Crete. Their 52-acre estate is currently experimenting with seven varieties, including the rare Vidiano, Liatiko, and Kotsifali, alongside more recognized Greek grapes like Assyrtiko and Xinomavro.

Supporting Data: The Case for Genetic Diversity

The resurgence of these varieties is more than a romantic gesture; it is an economic and ecological imperative. In an era defined by climate instability, reliance on a narrow set of "international" grape varieties poses a significant risk to the viticultural industry.

"Diversity is what makes our region special," says Anna deLaski, who founded Solminer in Los Olivos with her husband, David. Born in Austria’s Wachau region, deLaski focuses on Grüner Veltliner, Riesling, and Blaufränkisch. She argues that the resilience of a wine region is tied directly to the breadth of its genetic library. "With climate change, resilience comes from having a lot of different grapes," she notes.

The data supports this perspective. Koshu, for instance, exhibits a natural ability to withstand high heat while maintaining high acidity—a trait that makes it an ideal candidate for the warming climates of Northern California. Vranac, historically acclimated to the rugged terrain of the Balkans, has shown surprising adaptability to the Paso Robles terroir.

Furthermore, the consumer market is shifting. Modern wine drinkers are increasingly seeking "story-driven" products. Wines that offer a sense of place, history, and personal narrative are commanding higher interest and loyalty. The Sakazakis, the Quinns, and the Boutzoukases are not merely selling fermented juice; they are selling a tangible connection to an ancestral identity.

Official Responses and the Hurdles of Innovation

Despite the enthusiasm, the path to commercializing these varieties is fraught with institutional barriers. The UC Davis Foundation Plant Services (FPS) acts as the primary gatekeeper for these vines. Importing a new variety is a multi-year process involving rigorous quarantine, disease testing, and genetic verification.

Ryan Deovlet of Deovlet Wines in San Luis Obispo knows these challenges intimately. For three years, he has paid annual fees to FPS for exclusive access to Areni Noir vines, a rare Armenian variety. His grandfather fled the Armenian genocide in 1914, eventually settling in Los Angeles. For Deovlet, the project is intensely personal. "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.

However, Deovlet remains in "self-imposed limbo," waiting for the perfect microclimate to plant the vines. He is protective of the variety, wary of the "hoarding" mentality that sometimes plagues the industry. "I respect the effort it took to get it here," he notes. "I’d like to be the first to treat it with the respect it deserves."

Implications for the Future of American Wine

The implications of this "heritage movement" are profound. First, it challenges the hegemony of French varieties that have dominated the American palate since the Judgment of Paris in 1976. As these ancient varieties gain traction, they expand the vocabulary of American wine, offering new flavor profiles—from the umami-rich notes of Koshu to the complex, multi-layered character of Areni Noir.

Second, it provides a blueprint for survival. As the "cool" regions of yesterday become the "hot" regions of tomorrow, the ability to pivot to varieties that have evolved in extreme climates—like the arid, high-altitude regions of Armenia or the rugged islands of Greece—will be a critical competitive advantage.

Finally, there is the cultural impact. By planting these vines, American vintners are weaving their own ethnic history into the fabric of the American landscape. They are honoring the journeys of their ancestors, many of whom arrived in the United States as refugees or immigrants fleeing conflict, poverty, or systemic oppression.

As Michelle Sakazaki reflects on her journey, she captures the sentiment shared by many of her peers: "I feel like it was meant to be, like I was supposed to meet this varietal. It’s an honor to be the first in the United States to make it."

In the end, these wines represent a synthesis of old and new. They are a reminder that while the future of viticulture is uncertain, the roots we choose to plant today will define the terroir of tomorrow. As consumers continue to look for authenticity, the bottles bearing the names of Koshu, Vranac, and Areni will stand as monuments to both the resilience of nature and the enduring power of family heritage.