Forty-five degrees north latitude is an imaginary line encircling the earth that runs just a few miles south of this quiet Lake Michigan town. The line’s claim to fame is its position, pretty much halfway between the equator and North Pole.
Here on the Leelanau Peninsula, though, the 45th parallel means something more. Folks are quick to tell you the line crosses some of the world’s top wine regions: Bordeaux and Burgundy in France, Italy’s Piedmont, the Willamette Valley of Oregon and … northwest Michigan.
Michigan?
Better believe it; they do. Firmly.
The unique conditions that have made Michigan a vacation destination for generations have also made the Wolverine State a hot spot for wine. Thanks to a combination of soil types, topography and the moderating influence of Lake Michigan, winemakers here can take risks that would ruin their counterparts in other Midwest states, even areas in far more southern locales, like downstate Illinois.
So strong is the conviction that Michigan wine is world class, or can be, that people ranging from retired college librarians to business executives to Madonna’s dad are busy planting grapevines.
Wine and wine tourism pump some $100 million yearly into Michigan’s economy, state officials say. Given that nearly half the wines sold come from Leelanau, it makes sense that the wineries and ancillary businesses–restaurants, retail shops, lodging–have transformed the peninsula into something akin to California’s wine country.
“Things have changed in a good way,” said Cris Telgard, a fifth-generation Leland resident, as he greeted hundreds of thirsty locals and tourists in his role as co-director of the annual Leland Wine Fest in June. “Leland is a town with a tourist economy. We want to bring people here.”
“Napa North” has a nice ring, doesn’t it? Or, maybe, a mini-Burgundy would be a more apt analogy. For like the winemakers of France’s historic wine region, winemakers here voice a deep respect for the soil and the magic it works on the grapes.
“I’m a grape grower, not a winemaker,” said Bernie Rink of Lake Leelanau’s Boskydel Vineyard. “You’ve got to have good grapes; the less you do to them the better.”
Rink, 79, is Leelanau’s wine pioneer. He first planted vines in the mid-1960s, nearly a decade before the region’s wine industry really began in earnest. Rink doesn’t say much as he pours wines for visitors in the cluttered office of his barnlike winery. But his evident love of the land, and respect for the grapes born of it, is a view echoed across this peninsula, a region where green rolling hillsides, quaint villages and shimmering blue lake waters all seem to exist hand-in-hand.
Though Rink sticks to hybrid grapes, most other Leelanau winemakers are growing riesling, easily the unofficial state grape, along with chardonnay, gewurztraminer, merlot, pinot gris and even auxerrois, an Alsatian grape. And many are on a quest to produce what is considered the Holy Grail of the 45th parallel, pinot noir.
What’s happening in Leelanau is being duplicated elsewhere in Michigan. Officially the state has 91 wineries, but winemakers and state officials really only consider 45 wineries as the real deal, meaning they use predominantly local fruit and make winemaking their primary business.
Most of these wineries are clustered here and in neighboring Old Mission Peninsula, an 18-mile finger of land jutting out into Grand Traverse Bay. (The 45th parallel runs just offshore of the northern tip.) Each peninsula has its own American Viticultural Area, government recognized wine-growing regions. Leelanau has 15 wineries, and just more than half of all wine grapes grown in Michigan come from the peninsula, according to the Michigan Grape and Wine Industry Council, a division of the state agriculture department. Old Mission has seven wineries.
A second concentration of wineries can be found in the southwest corner of Michigan, two to three hours from Chicago. The two AVAs there include the larger Lake Michigan Shore, which extends up to 45 miles inland, and within that area the much smaller AVA called Fennville, home to just one winery, Fenn Valley.
The lake effect
That these wine regions are located along Lake Michigan is no accident. Large bodies of water tend to soften winter’s bite.
Of course, Lake Michigan also generates tremendous amounts of snow but winemakers like that, for snow is a superb insulator, keeping tender vines protected from frost and harsh winter winds.
Michigan’s rolling terrain helps as well. Winemakers can sculpt slopes and plant their vine rows in such a way that the river of air flowing over the land can be channeled through the vineyards, reducing the risk of frost settling on and killing the plants.
Walter H. Maurer III of Domaine Berrien Cellars in Berrien Springs grows 21 varietals, including all the major Bordeaux grapes. He can do this because of where his vineyard is located: Four miles from the lake, facing south, and located on one of the highest points in the area.
The spirit and artistry of these winemakers and winery owners are the third element to the Michigan wine story. They share a common goal–to make great wine–and some common characteristics. For it takes imagination and no small amount of cash to plant vineyards here.
All must live with the danger inherent in any agricultural enterprise. Even though the environmental and climatic odds are stacked in their favor, Michigan winemakers realize there’s always an element of risk. For all the talk of 2005’s gloriously hot summer, winemakers remember the killing frost of March 2003, which destroyed many grapevines.
While some, like Boskydel’s Rink, stick with cold-hearty hybrids, most winemakers want the more delicate vinifera varieties, which are widely known by the public.
“We like to live on the edge,” joked Jeff Lemon, whose Berrien Springs family farm dates to 1855 and whose 27-year-old Lemon Creek Winery boasts a Bordeaux-style blend among its offerings.
Learning as they grow
A willingness to experiment is vital, too, as the wine industry in Michigan is still relatively young. There aren’t many rules to follow on what to grow.
“We’re the first generation,” said Mark Johnson, chief winemaker at Chateau Chantal on Old Mission Peninsula. “It took the Burgundians 500 years to find out what to do with chardonnay and pinot noir.”
Joe Herman of Karma Vista in Coloma embodies Michigan’s experimental mood. He became a producer of sauvignon blanc by accident when a number of white grapevines were inadvertently mixed in with his merlot order a couple of years ago. He didn’t realize the mistake until the grapes began to mature. Instead of pulling out the sauvignon blanc, he let it grow. The resulting batch was so small you have to know to ask for it at the tasting room. Next year, though, will be different.
“This year we have our first large harvest in store,” Herman said, predicting “ample quantities” will be available to drink next spring.
Salesmanship also is important. Mostly overlooked by the industry, snubbed by the major markets (Chicago is notoriously frosty) and catering mostly to locals and visitors to their wineries or tasting rooms, Michigan winemakers have to devise ways to draw people in and sell their wines.
The so-called “hand sell,” in which a customer is talked through the wines toward a possible sale, is a vital tool here.
“We try to educate,” said Maurer, standing at his tasting counter wearing a T-shirt stained from toiling in the fields. “We get them to try it. It’s an opportunity.”
And opportunity doesn’t punch a clock. It was after 5 p.m. and Maurer’s tasting room was officially closed. But there he stood with a young couple, patiently and gently guiding them through his wines.
“Agritourism” is one word you hear a lot in Michigan’s wine country.
“We as a society have lost touch with the dirt,” said Lee Lutes, winemaker at Black Star Farms, a Suttons Bay “agricultural destination” that allows visitors to get down with the earth with considerable elan.
Black Star Farms seems more a vision of Kentucky’s horse country than Leelanau County. The winery boasts not only a state-of-the-art tasting room with a soaring wood-beamed ceiling but also an adjoining creamery that serves as home to the Leelanau Cheese Co. Stables are located right across the drive. There’s a barnyard full of farm animals, including chickens whose freshly laid eggs are served at breakfast. The Inn at Black Star Farms sports an imposing colonnaded front that opens onto a two-story lobby. Eight guestrooms named after stars in the northern sky are reached at the top of a staircase so sweepingly grand you feel a little like Scarlet O’Hara every time you descend. Only thing is, you may need some of Rhett’s money to have a go at it here. Rooms start at $280 a night in-season.
“We’ve developed a complete concept,” said Don Coe, the winery’s co-owner. “It’s complete relaxation.”
Gill’s Pier in Northport is a relatively new winery. It’s small but has its luxe touches too. The tasting room is adorned with a chandelier fashioned from antlers and crystals, an imposing if slightly singed antique bar and an ornately carved dining table. Back in Suttons Bay, Shady Lane Cellars markets its wine out of a restored 100-year-old fieldstone chicken coop.
Across west Traverse Bay at Chateau Chantal, the centerpiece is a large Norman chateau with bay views and 11 luxury rooms starting at $135 a night.
Downstate in Buchanan, Tabor Hill Winery offers a sophisticated restaurant with views of the grapevines, while Round Barn Winery in neighboring Baroda uses its iconic Amish barn for weddings and receptions. Indeed, the wedding trade prompted the winery to become a licensed microbrewery in order to slake the thirst of suds-loving guests.
These are just some of the more lavish testaments to the good life amid the vines. Other Michigan wineries may be more low-key but are just as charming.
The wines of Lemon Creek Winery in Berrien Springs are poured on the family farm in a large, homey barnlike space decorated with ancient family photos and award ribbons. Up the road 22 miles in Coloma, Contessa Wine Cellars occupies a hilltop Swiss-style chalet decorated in a somewhat baroque style. But flatlanders from Chicago standing on the deck will drink in the sweeping views of hills, pasture and the McDonald’s golden arches rising high above the interstate in the distance.
A growth industry
Yet change is a-coming; most winemakers are looking to build their businesses, adding on space or expanding their product line.
“Because of township restrictions, very few additional tasting rooms will probably open on Old Mission,” said Richard A. Coates, spokesman for the Leelanau Peninsula Vintners, a trade group. However, Coates said that three wineries are expected to open on the Leelanau Peninsula, another five projects are under way, and several more wineries are expected to open in nearby Benzie County.
Lawrence Mawby, one of Leelanau’s veteran winemakers, thinks more wineries will specialize. He made a name for himself with two lines of sparkling wines, L. Mawby and M. Lawrence. That one bottling, a brut rose, is simply called “Sex” didn’t hurt either.
Facilities are changing to hold more product, both wine and other potables, tchotchkes and clothing. Even the Lemon family fruit stand is on its way out to make room for a function room. Leelanau Cellars is converting an old gas station located right on Leelanau’s Omena Bay into a restaurant and tasting room. Round Barn is getting into vodka distilled from grapes.
The demand is sweet
Yet amid the optimistic talk come challenges. Notably, catering to two often distinct types of customers.
What customers want to drink in tasting rooms depends largely on their prior knowledge of wine. That, in turn, leads to all sorts of expectations based on age, gender and education.
“A busload of retirees from South Holland will tend to want sweeter wines while the couple from Winnetka coming in for dinner will tend to choose drier, more intricate wines,” said Paul Landeck, Tabor Hill’s general manager.
Tabor Hill, which was the first winery to introduce vinifera grapes into southwest Michigan in 1970, responds like other state wineries. It makes wines in sweet and dry styles.
Sweet or sweetish wines tend to be snubbed by the wine industry and wine press, which may be why Michigan winemakers go to such pains to stress they make dry wines too. But sales figures tend to bear out the industry saying, “Americans talk dry but drink sweet.”
Michigan’s No. 1 wine is Blue Heron made by St. Julian, the state’s oldest and largest winery (founded in 1921, in Paw Paw since 1936). So popular has Blue Heron been that St. Julian is introducing Red Heron, a sweet red blend.
Tabor Hill’s cash cow is a demi-sec blend of riesling, vignoles and other grapes.
“Seventy percent of the people in the tasting room want something with sweetness in it,” said Johnson of Chateau Chantal. “You can see they are embarrassed because they don’t like dry wine.”
Still, sweet has its limits.
Looking for affirmation
“We’ve evolved enough and earned enough respect, yet people still think we’re all sweet wines. For every four sweet wines there are 10 or 12 that aren’t,” Landeck said, echoing a frustration heard from many winemakers.
That’s one reason a great pinot noir is a goal for so many Michigan winemakers. Not only is pinot a real pain to grow, but its popularity has spiked since release of the movie “Sideways.” That pinot is king in that other bit of 45th parallel real estate, Burgundy, doesn’t hurt either.
“There’s a need for a good red wine in Michigan,” said Cornel Olivier, vintner and estate manager for Brys Estate. “It’s what we’re focused on. We’ve established ourselves as a red wine house. I want to be the Opus One of Michigan.”
Yet, Chicago-area merchants who sell Michigan wine say the demand is small and definitely focused on sweet.
Sterling Pratt of Schaefer’s in Skokie voiced frustration at the slow acceptance of Michigan wine in the Chicago market. “I’ve never known why Michigan wines don’t take off in Chicago,” he said. “We’ve tried unsuccessfully for years.
“A lot of what people try when they’re at their summer or weekend cottages and love fails to translate into something they’ll serve their guests and friends here,” he said.
“I think Michigan is still king of the hill for the wines of the Midwest,” said Doug Jeffirs, wine director for Binny’s Beverage Depot stores. “But they have some ways to go before we can count them in the world-class category.”
Undaunted, Michigan winemakers insist they’re well on their way. “We’re still learning,” said Silvio Ciccone, who is better known as Madonna’s father rather than owner of his eponymous winery in Suttons Bay.
Clearly, it has been an agreeable education for this retired 75-year-old engineer. Here’s a man who could have gone anywhere after retiring to indulge his winemaking hobby, but he chose to stay in Michigan, in Leelanau, where he had vacationed for nearly four decades.
Watching “Tony” clamber up and down stepladders to fish maturing wines out of barrels at an impromptu tasting hints at where his daughter got her famously indefatigable energy. And in tasting the wines, including an amber-colored pinot gris called Ambrato, one can see where Madonna got her creativity too.
For father is like daughter in creating his own personal statement. And much the same could be said for other state winemakers.
“We don’t make California chardonnay, we make Michigan chardonnay,” Ciccone said, without apology. “It grows differently, it tastes different. You have to judge it on its own.”
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Michigan wine information
Michigan Grape and Wine Industry Council: Michiganwines.com. Includes links to wineries, wine industry facts, events, maps.
Leelanau Peninsula Vintners Association: lpwines.com. Listing of wineries, wine of the month, visitors information.
Wineries of Old Mission Peninsula:wineriesofoldmission.com. Linksto wineries, map.
Southwest Michigan Wine Trail: miwinetrail.com. Winery links, maps, events, restaurant listings, travel information.
Wine festivals
Celebrate the fruit of the vine at Michigan wine festivals in August and September. For listing, go to chicagotribune.com/festivals
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– For wineries in Michigan’s American Viticultural Areas with tasting rooms open to the public, go online to chicagotribune.com/wineries
