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When I was in first-year university one of my friends gave me a bottle of“ Canadian” wine. Like some other Canadian wine products in the early 1970s, this wine was an unusual shade of mauve. On the label was a nice furry cartoon creature that promised a nice bubble on the inside. I never found out, because I placed it to chill near the open window of my dorm room in February. The bottle froze. I returned to find broken glass and sticky mauve sorbet all over my philosophy essay. It did not matter: it was baby-winepop. I knew that if it said it was Canadian, it was a problem. Serious wine lovers like me were into French. Italian. German. Maybe one of the upstart Californians. Certainly not Canadian. There may have been a few of our winemakers doing it right, but we never saw their wines out here on the bald prairie.
Sylvia Jansen, Sommelier( ISG, CMS), CSW
Our national wine scene at the time was haunted by lows: many growers were using native North American grapes( low quality wine); Canadian consumers were not as focused on wine( low expectations); and experts were of the view that we could not grow good stuff anyway( low temperatures). A lot has changed in a generation.
In 1988, the Free Trade Agreement set in motion a whole series of developments by pitching tariffs on imported wine. Canadian wine producers were challenged to compete on a larger stage. Suddenly, grape varieties such as Concord would not do. Consumers were getting more Californian wines. Expectations were rising.
Before long, Canadian winegrowers realized that European grape varieties could survive, and flourish, in places like the Okanagan and Niagara. They pulled up the old vines, and reduced the size of vineyard areas to manage the best plots better. Noble European varieties like Merlot, Chardonnay, and Riesling were planted in greater numbers. The only hybrids that stuck around were those that had potential for interesting wine: Vidal( giving peachy, rich Icewine and late harvest whites); as well as Baco Noir and Marechal Foch( reds with saucy personalities). I expect that the source of my mauve stuff was part of what went under the bulldozer.
The reality, though, is that grapes do not come out of a faucet: it takes half a dozen years to turn off the Concord tap and turn on the Cabernet tap. Moreover, growers sometimes revised initial decisions, pulled up, planted again, and waited again.
During this time, people like Donald Ziraldo in Ontario and Harry McWatters in BC worked tirelessly to promote Canadian wine— inside our borders and beyond— and to advance VQA regulations. Producers brought successful vineyard experts and winemakers from elsewhere to borrow from the world’ s wisdom. For our part, Canadian consumers began to realize that this stuff could be really good.
Within a generation, Canadian Icewine and table wines began to hit the world stage. International awards arrived. Some producers have even become famous phantoms, with cult wines that we know exist, but have never tasted because the tiny quantities are snatched up in a heartbeat. And for a number of years, Rideau Hall, the residence of the Canadian Governor General, has had a completely Canadian wine cellar, serving our VQA wines( including some phantoms) to the world’ s visitors.
It is a good thing that today’ s philosophy essays might have to mop up some spilled Vineland Sparkling Brut, or that laptop keyboards might have to be drained of the accidental splash of Malivoire Pinot Noir. If we mourn the spill, it means that we have come of age.
So here’ s to you, patriotically. � www. banvilleandjones. com 67