By Jennifer Primrose
trianglearoundtown@gmail.com

There are wine regions you visit once and immediately understand.

And then there are regions you have to watch grow up.

For me, Michigan has been the latter.

I’m a Michigan native, and I’ve been making trips through Traverse City and northern Michigan wine country for years. The change has been hard to miss. What was once a region people associated primarily with Riesling, sweeter whites and vacation tasting rooms has become far more serious—and far more interesting.

Today, Michigan produces cool-climate wines with bright acidity, restraint, and a real sense of place. Aromatic whites still shine, but Pinot Noir, Cabernet Franc, Gamay, sparkling wine and other varieties are making the conversation much bigger.

And in Leland, Verterra Winery has quietly been building its own case for what northern Michigan wine can become.

This isn’t a story about chasing whatever grape happens to be fashionable.

It’s about choosing a place, studying it and planting accordingly.

And when we spoke exclusively with Verterra founder Paul Hamelin, it quickly became clear just how intentional those choices have been.

Because Hamelin didn’t choose northern Michigan simply because it was home.

He chose it because the numbers told him something important about what could grow there.

And that decision would shape everything Verterra became.

Read more

By Dathan Kazsuk
trianglearoundtown@gmail.com

Sometimes you just need to do something outside your so-called “comfort zone.”

And for us, that meant making the hour-long trek east to Wilson this past Friday night for the Moonshiner Mash-In, an 11-date, limited touring comedy and storytelling show hosted by comedian Killer Beaz celebrating 15 years of the hit TV series Moonshiners.

Was this something normally on our radar?

Of course not.

But that may have been exactly why I wanted to go.

The evening featured comedy from Dan Whitehurst, a former Tennessee police officer turned comedian, followed by Killer Beaz—who has also appeared on Moonshiners—and then a conversation with Steve “Tickle,” Josh Owens, and Jerry Benson.

Here’s the funny part: Jen has never really watched Moonshiners.

I’ve seen some of it over the years, but I wouldn’t exactly call myself a die-hard fan either. On the drive, I reminded her that we actually met original Moonshiners star Tim Smith a couple of years ago at the Tryon International Equestrian Center.

“Oh yeah,” she said.

So at least we had that.

But getting outside our comfort zone wasn’t really about the comedy. We love comedy. We occasionally hit local comedy clubs, and some of the funniest people we’ve seen have been comedians working cruise ships.

It was more about driving 60 minutes to Wilson on a Friday night to sit inside an old theater and listen to stories from people on a television show we barely watch.

And my original thought was pretty simple:

Hey, this could be something cool and different for Substack.

Turns out, it was.

Welcome to Wilson

The show took place inside the historic Edna Boykin Cultural Center in downtown Wilson. And the theater definitely had character.

Lots of character.

This wasn’t some gleaming performing arts center with cocktail bars and plush reclining seats. The concession stand’s big-ticket items were popcorn and Kit Kats. No beer. No wine. No moonshine—which, considering what we were there to see, felt like a missed opportunity.

Another missed opportunity seems to be having it in Wilson, when two towns in North Carolina claim to be the birthplace of moonshine—Clayton and Wilkesboro. Seems there would have been a larger crowd in towns that hold that tradition sacred.

But at the Edna Boykin Cultural Center, seats had apparently been designed during an era when the human spine was considered optional. Visible wiring fed to JBL speakers around the stage. Look high enough, and you could spot places where the paint and plaster had seen better days.

But you know what? I kind of loved it.

The building felt old because it was old. It had personality. And we were sitting in the third row, practically on top of the stage, wondering exactly what we had gotten ourselves into.

Sometimes that’s part of the fun.

A Cop, a Comedian and a Talk of Cruise Ships

Dan Whitehurst opened the evening.

With his long white beard, he looked like he could have wandered straight out of the woods carrying a mason jar—which made him fit the evening almost perfectly, despite joking that he’s been sober for years.

He also reminded me a little of our friend Kent.

Maybe it was the beard.

Whitehurst’s comedy felt like the kind of set you might catch aboard a cruise ship. And I don’t mean that as an insult. We’ve seen some genuinely hilarious comedians at sea.

We’ve also seen one who wasn’t.

Then came Killer Beaz.

I’d heard the name plenty of times, but I honestly couldn’t remember ever sitting down and watching one of his comedy specials.

The guy was pretty damn funny.

A lot of his material revolved around relationships, homeownership, getting older, and his experiences with moonshiners. Then he asked the crowd if anyone had ever been on a cruise.

Jen and I looked at each other.

Of course we have.

We still kept our hands down.

Beaz went on to explain that he’s performed on more than 180 Carnival cruises, which led into some wonderfully accurate observations about cruising and cruise passengers.

Then the Moonshiners Came Out

Before I get to the guys from the show, I have to mention the crowd.

Because this was not Raleigh. And I mean that affectionately.

There were boots. There were beards. There were accents thick enough to spread on a homemade biscuit. Killer Beaz repeatedly threw around the word “hillbilly,” and judging by the laughs and applause around us, nobody seemed particularly offended by the description.

These were his people.

Then Steve “Tickle,” Josh Owens and Jerry Benson walked onto the stage.

That’s when the night shifted from stand-up comedy into storytelling.

Tickle talked about the injury he suffered early in the series that left him with several broken ribs.

Benson talked about building a four-chamber still—which was sitting right there onstage—and someone asked what it would cost if he decided to sell the thing.

About $10,000, if you were wondering.

That’s one expensive piece of moonshine equipment.

Owens may have had the most interesting story of the night.

He talked about missing his chance to appear during the show’s first season because when someone first approached him about being on television, he thought it was a joke.

He also talked about the devastating motorcycle accident that nearly killed him.

Owens was badly injured, spent time in a coma, and eventually began talking about something much bigger than moonshine or reality television.

Faith.

Death.

And what happens when you suddenly realize you might not get another tomorrow.

Maybe That Was the Point

The entire evening lasted about 90 minutes.

It wasn’t something we would normally do.

And that’s exactly why I’m glad we did it.

Because somewhere between Killer Beaz making us laugh about cruise ships and Josh Owens talking about nearly dying, I started thinking about something we’ve been talking about more and more lately.

We’re not getting any younger.

None of us are.

And it is incredibly easy to fall into a routine.

Work. Dinner. YouTube. Bed. Repeat.

Then suddenly another month is gone. Another year disappears.

Owens talked about being in a coma for a week. He said he thought he’d seen Jesus. He talked about lying in the hospital believing he might be headed to hell.

Whatever your beliefs are, hearing somebody describe getting that close to death makes you think.

We only get so much time.

So maybe drive the hour to Wilson.

Buy the ticket.

See the weird show.

Stop at the brewery whose ex-owner hated you because you didn’t include her in a story! (rolls eyes)

Order something you’ve never eaten.

Do something different.

Don’t be a cheerleader—or a tool!

Was the Moonshiner Mash-In one of the 10 greatest nights we’ve ever had?

No. Not even close.

But that’s not really the point.

We drove home talking about it.

We saw something we never would have seen sitting on the couch at home. And now I need to check out Moonshiners on a streaming service.

So thank you to the Moonshiners, Dan Whitehurst, Killer Beaz, and the staff at the Edna Boykin theater.

You gave us something we didn’t know we needed.

A reminder to get the hell out of our routine every once in a while.

Because sometimes the best reason to do something is simply this:

You’ve never done it before.

By Dathan Kazsuk
trianglearoundtown@gmail.com

The first time Jen and I visited Foxcroft Food & Wine was at one of its Charlotte locations.

We were waiting to pick up our nephew from some school event, and Jen did what Jen does.

“Oh, there’s a wine place right down the road.”

Of course there was.

That wine place was Foxcroft.

I remember enjoying the wine. I remember liking the ambiance. Beyond that? Things get a little fuzzy. My memory seems to be fading with old age. Maybe that’s why I write so much—to keep tabs on where the hell I’ve been.

Years later, I caught wind that Foxcroft was coming to Raleigh, taking over the old Midtown Grille location in North Hills.

Now that got my attention.

Foxcroft held its soft opening in January 2025, and Jen and I were invited to check it out.

My first thought?

This place had potential.

We tried the food. It was good. The restaurant was open, bright, and inviting. The staff was friendly. And, most importantly, it didn’t feel like someone had simply dropped another generic restaurant concept into North Hills.

Wine was the point.

And for us, that mattered.

Now, 19 months later, Foxcroft’s Raleigh location is closing.

Think about that for a second.

Nineteen months.

A food-and-wine restaurant inside one of Raleigh’s largest and busiest mixed-use developments couldn’t even make it two years.

Do I think Foxcroft did everything right?

Absolutely not.

Actually, I think they did quite a few things wrong.

But we’ll get to that.

Because I also think they got a pretty raw deal.

When Foxcroft Was Working, It Really Worked

By February 2025, we were already back.

This time it was for a Castello di Ama masterclass, where we tasted six wines ranging from around $45 to $240 a bottle and met one of the owners, who casually invited us to visit them in Italy and said he had a place where we could stay.

Damn. Why didn’t we take him up on that?

But that night was also when I started seeing what Foxcroft could be in Raleigh.

It wasn’t just dinner and a glass of wine.

There could be winemakers. Masterclasses. Tastings. Flights. Conversations with people who actually knew what was in the glass.

Those were the kinds of experiences I thought could make Foxcroft unique.

By then, Jen thought it would make a great Midtown magazine story, so we reached out through our friend Trish and set up interviews with Wine Operations Director Shawn Paul and then-Executive Chef Stephanie Klos, now the company’s culinary director.

Read the Midtown story here!

The story did well. People read it. Friends told us they went to Foxcroft after we talked about it. Raleigh Magazine—yuck—eventually recognized its burger as one of the city’s best, and Foxcroft picked up a couple of Midtown Diamond Awards along the way.

A month later, we were back again for a wine tasting on the patio. Our friend Andrew was representing the wines, and an Italian winemaker was there pouring and talking us through them.

We ordered some flights.

And a flatbread. We really liked their flatbreads.

A month or so later, I met my friend Kitty Kinnin there to catch up over a few glasses of wine.

And yes.

We split a flatbread.

Then Came Brunch

Later that year, Jen and I were invited back to preview Foxcroft’s new brunch menu.

There was a mimosa flight with a full bottle of Prosecco and three different juices so you could mix your own. There was a chicken-and-waffles board. A smoked salmon board. Doughnut holes with dipping sauces.

It was fun.

But there was one problem. Brunch started at noon.

Guys. That’s lunch.

I know somebody somewhere decided noon still technically qualifies as brunch, and that’s fine, but most of the brunch places Jen and I frequent start around 10 a.m.

That makes sense.

An ideal brunch window, at least to me, is 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. That gives the early risers a chance to eat and be done before noon, works well for people heading out after church, and still gives those of us who occasionally believe waking up before 10 a.m. on a Sunday is a sin.

Brunch from 12 p.m. to 4 p.m. … is just LUNCH!

And maybe that was one of those little things that began adding up.

Foxcroft launched Sunday brunch in November 2025. Now, as the Raleigh restaurant approaches its closing, its posted hours list both Sunday and Monday as closed.

That’s a pretty dramatic swing for a restaurant that had only been open a little more than a year.

Read my full reviews on Brunch here!

And there were other things.

I remember asking Shawn whether we could bring an American Wine Society tasting to Foxcroft on a Sunday. At first, it seemed like something they might consider. Then I received an email saying he wasn’t in Raleigh enough and they needed to decline.

Fine. Restaurants turn down events all the time.

Then fast-forward to this August.

Another AWS board member spoke with a new manager who seemed excited about bringing the group in for a monthly event. We had to restructure some of the wines because Foxcroft didn’t have everything we originally wanted.

Again, fine.

Find comparable wines. Pour them. Talk about them. Everybody wins.

The board member was excited.

Then came another email.

The event was off.

Something about revamping the private room in the back.

That was when I started wondering whether the writing was already on the wall.

Sixty Vines Shows Up

This is where things get complicated.

Because, again, Foxcroft made mistakes.

The original lunch menu was too limited.

Their hours never seemed to take full advantage of the surrounding neighborhood.

They eventually added cocktails, but even then the cocktail list felt lean compared with what other restaurants around North Hills were offering.

And I don’t think they ever did a good enough job explaining one of the coolest parts of the entire Foxcroft concept.

Foxcroft wasn’t simply a wine bar.

It wasn’t simply a restaurant.

It was also a bottle shop.

You could walk the shelves, pick out a bottle, and drink it with your meal without the traditional restaurant markup. Or you could take a bottle home for 25% off.

Think about that.

Don’t love what they’re pouring by the glass?

Go grab something off the rack.

Find something you love?

Buy another bottle and take it home for 25% less.

Who else around North Hills was doing that?

That should have been screamed from the rooftop.

Instead, I’m not sure enough people ever understood it.

Then, in December 2025, the new shiny toy arrived.

Sixty Vines.

And not somewhere across Raleigh.

Basically across the street.

When Foxcroft committed to North Hills, company officials say they were told another similar wine-focused concept would not be placed nearby.

Technically, perhaps that promise was kept.

Foxcroft sits in North Hills’ Lassiter District.

Sixty Vines sits in the Main District.

Different districts.

Problem solved, right?

Come on.

North Hills can draw as many lines on a leasing map as it wants. To someone deciding where to meet friends for a glass of wine on Friday night, Foxcroft and Sixty Vines are practically neighbors.

A few tenths of a mile apart.

If Foxcroft was led to believe it wouldn’t have to compete with another concept built so heavily around wine that close to its front door, then yeah—I think Foxcroft got a raw deal.

Especially when Sixty Vines wasn’t some tiny little wine bar tucked into a corner.

It arrived with more than 13,000 square feet, two stories, a rooftop lounge and, right there in the name, 60 wines on tap.

That’s one hell of a new neighbor.

And you know how Raleigh works when there’s a new shiny toy.

We go play with it.

Jen and I did, too.

They Weren’t The Same Place

The sad part is I think both restaurants could have worked because, at least to me, they served different purposes.

Sixty Vines feels like the place you go with a big group of friends.

You get there early for brunch—and I really do like several things on its brunch menu. You head upstairs to the rooftop. You look out over North Hills. You order wine, cocktails, and food, and make an afternoon or evening out of it.

Foxcroft was different.

Foxcroft felt more intimate.

To me, it should have owned lunch in that section of North Hills.

All those offices surrounding it?

Give those people a killer lunch menu and get them through the door.

It was the place where you could stop for a flight before or after shopping.

It was the place where somebody could walk in knowing almost nothing about wine and have someone help them find a bottle.

It was the place for a Monday tasting.

It was the place where you could discover something new, drink it there and then take another bottle home.

I just don’t think Foxcroft ever completely figured out how to own it.

And that’s the frustrating part.

Because I liked Foxcroft.

I liked going there.

I liked the people.

I liked the wine events.

And, apparently, I really liked the flatbread.

So no, I don’t think Foxcroft’s closing can simply be blamed on Sixty Vines.

Restaurants fail for dozens of reasons. Hours matter. Menus matter. Marketing matters. Consistency matters. Giving people a reason to come back on a Tuesday afternoon matters.

Foxcroft had some misses.

But I also don’t think you can ignore what happened around it.

A wine-focused restaurant opened in North Hills.

Less than a year later, another much larger wine-focused restaurant opened just a few tenths of a mile away in North Hills.

Sure.

Different “district.”

Whatever helps everyone sleep at night.

Now, 19 months after Foxcroft welcomed its first Raleigh customers, it’s saying goodbye.

Daj Bože.

This is no ordinary Mediterranean rock. It’s a volcanic, sun-soaked paradise where ancient Greeks planted vineyards instead of just eating olives and philosophizing all day. Fast forward a few thousand years, and Sicily has morphed into a wine lover’s utopia. It’s like Napa, but with more history and fewer influencers taking selfies in wide-brim hats and cheesy attire.

The island, off the coast of Italy, covers roughly 9,900 square miles—just about the size of the state of Maryland—but packs a punch in terms of culture, history, and, of course, wine.

Sicily’s wine story reads like an epic saga. The Greeks kicked it off in the 8th century BCE, realizing the island’s fertile soils and endless sunshine were better for growing grapes than for doing much else. The Phoenicians and Romans jumped on the bandwagon, spreading Sicilian wines across the Mediterranean like ancient Instacart delivery drivers.

Over the centuries, invaders came and went, but the vines stayed—digging deep into the volcanic soil and growing stronger, like the Sicilian spirit itself. Modern winemakers haven’t forgotten their roots, though. They’re blending ancient traditions with cutting-edge techniques to create wines as complex as a Sicilian grandmother’s recipe for caponata.

Sicilian White Wines

Sicily’s geography is a lesson in diversity. It’s like Mother Nature got bored and decided to throw together beaches, mountains, volcanoes, and endless rolling hills just for fun. This kaleidoscope of terrain makes Sicily a dreamland for growing wine grapes. And oh, the grapes—they’ve got more personalities than a telenovela cast.

Grillo is the white grape that’s stepping out of Marsala’s shadow to steal the spotlight. Think zesty citrus, a hint of sea breeze, and a backbone that stands up to grilled swordfish. It’s the wine equivalent of a cool ocean dip on a sweltering day.

“Grillo is often mistaken for Grigio, or Pinot Grigio, to be precise,” says Laurence Vuelta, director of sales at Sunrise Wines in Raleigh, North Carolina. “It’s actually not related at all! It’s a relatively recent Sicilian variety that came to birth when crossed with Catarratto and Zibibbo, another crazy indigenous variety of Muscat of Alexandria.”

For Vuelta, Grillo creates a unique blend of texture and aromatics that's hard to forget. It almost takes on notes of the sea within its proximity. Grillo’s proximity to the ocean gives off characteristics of sea salt and oyster shells that go with the tastes of wild-grown peaches and apricots. “If you’re like me, you consume white wine year-round; this is a perfect example of one that has enough weight without the aid of oak for grilled foods and seafood. The high acid and citrus undertones go great with fresh veggies paired alongside a charcuterie board,” Vuelta adds.

Then there’s Lucido (or Catarratto, depending on who you ask). It’s crisp, clean, and refreshingly unpretentious. Perfect for anyone who wants their wine to taste like it’s been kissed by Sicilian sunshine—and it’s Italy’s second most planted white variety behind Pinot Grigio. Lucido usually delivers a medium to full acidity—making it a tremendous food wine—and is sometimes used to make Marsala.

Sicilian Red Wines

For the reds, let’s start with the boss: Nero d’Avola. This is the grape that built Sicily’s wine reputation—bold, rich, and as unapologetic as the island’s espresso culture. Whether it’s showing off bright cherries and strawberries or diving deep into dark chocolate and spice territory, Nero d’Avola knows how to bring the drama.

And then there’s Frappato, the quirky little cousin of Nero d’Avola. Light, aromatic and full of red berry pizzazz, it’s like a party in your mouth that doesn’t overstay its welcome. When paired with Nero d’Avola in Cerasuolo di Vittoria (Sicily’s only DOCG wine), it’s magic—a perfect harmony of freshness and structure that can hold its own alongside grilled vegetables or mushroom risotto.

“This gorgeous variety is native to Sicily as I have studied it,” says Vuelta. “On the nose, it displays a wild array of red fruits, including fresh strawberries, raspberries and cherries. These fruity notes are often accompanied by hints of violet and wildflowers, adding a touch of elegance and sophistication to the grape and making it unique among its brother and sister varietals.”

Frappato’s vibrant acidity and soft tannins also make it an excellent match for seafood, particularly grilled or roasted fish. It also complements classic Sicilian dishes such as the famous Pasta Alla Norma, which is made with eggplant and ricotta cheese, as well as arancini and caponata.

The Innovation Game: Ancient Meets Avant-Garde

Here’s the thing about Sicily’s wine scene—it’s not stuck in the past, despite its ancient roots. These folks take sustainability, organic farming, and giving back to the land that’s given them so much seriously.

It’s a delicate dance of respecting tradition while embracing innovation, and Sicilian winemakers are nailing it.

The Sicilia DOC is a prime example. This isn’t just a fancy label; it’s a badge of honor. By setting strict standards for grape growing and winemaking, the DOC ensures that every bottle with its name genuinely represents Sicily’s soul. Lower yields, a focus on indigenous grapes and an unwavering commitment to quality are turning heads—and palates—around the globe.

Pairing Sicilian wine with food is like playing matchmaker for soulmates. Grillo? It’s a no-brainer with seafood—grilled, fried, or even straight out of the ocean (if you’re feeling adventurous). Nero d’Avola? Hand it a plate of charcuterie or a perfectly seared steak, and watch the sparks fly. Frappato? Pair it with a wood-fired pizza or a bowl of pasta al pomodoro, and let the good times roll.

But Sicilian wine's real beauty is its versatility. These bottles aren’t just for Michelin-starred meals—they shine just as bright at a backyard barbecue or a casual Tuesday night dinner. It’s wine for the people, by the people, with a dash of Mediterranean flair.

“Sicily’s volcanic soil composition undoubtedly makes a difference. After all, we call it ‘terroir,’ the French term for the combination of soil and climate. Its proximity to water, in this case, the Mediterranean, influences all vinifera varieties, as well as the temperatures and elevation. It’s a great place for growing and producing wines,” says Vuelta.

With all these great varietals growing in Sicily, Vuelta also throws out another red variety, his favorite—Nerello Mascalese. Grown primarily on the slopes of Mount Etna in Sicily, this harmonious grape is so balanced it can be made lighter than Pinot Noir or bigger than Cabernet. Vuelta’s favorite style is when the skins are left off, making an aromatic white wine with a stunning texture of honeycomb and lanolin.

THE REGIONS:
A Tour Without the Plane Ticket

Sicily’s wine regions are like characters in a novel, each with its own personality and quirks:

Western Sicily: Home to Grillo and Catarratto, where coastal breezes keep the grapes as cool as the locals.

South-East Sicily: The stomping ground for Nero d’Avola and Frappato. Think big, bold reds with a touch of finesse.

Central Sicily: Higher altitudes mean wines with structure and complexity. It’s like the brainiac of the group.

Mount Etna: Volcanic soil gives wines here an edge—think Nerello Mascalese with a smoky, mineral-laced punch.

Sicily isn’t just a wine region; it’s a movement. Winemakers here are stepping up their game, proving that indigenous grapes and sustainable practices aren’t just buzzwords—they’re the future. The island’s wines are gaining international acclaim, showing the world that Sicily isn’t just a sunny vacation spot; it’s a serious player in the global wine scene.

So, whether you’re sipping a crisp Grillo on a lazy summer afternoon or diving into a brooding Nero d’Avola on a chilly night, remember this: every bottle of Sicilian wine tells a story. It’s a story of grit, passion, and an island that’s been perfecting its craft for centuries.

By Jennifer Primrose & Dathan Kazsuk
trianglearoundtown@gmail.com

Sometimes a winery visit is about discovering someplace new. Other times, it’s about returning to a place you haven’t thought about in years and realizing you’re glad you stopped again.

That was Potomac Point Winery.

As we made our way back to North Carolina after a few days in Alexandria, Virginia, we decided to take a familiar detour through Stafford and revisit Potomac Point Winery—a place we had first visited roughly 16 years ago during another Virginia wine excursion.

Back then, we were exploring wineries around the Loudoun County/Leesburg area and headed back toward North Carolina, stopping at Potomac Point. We vaguely remembered sitting down with wine and charcuterie, enjoying the experience as much as the bottles themselves.

This visit brought back those memories—but also gave us a few new ones.

A Taste of Tuscany in Stafford, Virginia

Located on the 1,040-acre Richland Farm, Potomac Point Winery has created a destination that feels far removed from the busy roads outside Stafford. The Tuscan-inspired architecture, courtyard spaces, veranda, and surrounding property give the winery a relaxed European feel.

Beyond the tasting room, visitors can explore spaces including the D’Vine Lounge, gift shop, Humido Hill, picnic pavilion, and even a proposal tower for those looking to make a memorable moment out of their visit.

For families, there is even a “Little Buds Room” designed with younger visitors in mind—something we only learned about afterward while reading through the winery brochure. (A little too late for us, since Waffles and TiaMisu were not exactly interested in joining the road trip.)

The winery also offers dining at Le Grand Cru Bistro, with lunch, dinner, and seasonal brunch options, making Potomac Point more than just a quick tasting stop.

A Small Discovery With a Big Story

While we were tasting wine and exploring our surroundings, we noticed something sitting on the bar right beside us—a small glass case with something inside that we couldn’t quite make out.

Naturally, we asked. … and you don’t want to know what Dathan said it looked like!

What we discovered was one of those unexpected little stories that makes a winery visit memorable. Inside the case was the tip of a finger from a statue that once stood on the property.

The story goes that when the statue was being installed, the husband carefully measured the space and was confident it would fit. His wife disagreed. As it turned out, she was right—the statue was just a little too large, and the tip of the finger broke off.

Rather than discard it, they preserved the piece as a reminder that sometimes, the wife really does know best.

It was exactly the kind of detail we love discovering while traveling—the little stories hiding in plain sight that give a place even more personality.

Two Tastings, Plenty of Discoveries

For our return visit, we decided to experience two different tasting options.

Jen started with the Premier Cru Tasting, which included:

• Chardonnay 2024

• La Belle Vie Rosé 2023

• La Belle Vie White 2024

• Petit Manseng 2025

• Abbinato 2022

• Coyote Cave

• Norton 2022

• Dolce Rubus

There were plenty of highlights, but the Norton landed at the bottom of Jen’s list. Fortunately, the tasting room offered a chance to try a couple of alternatives, including the low-alcohol Viognier and Merlot — and the Merlot quickly became a favorite.

Dathan went with the Grand Cru Tasting, featuring:

• Viognier 2024

• Albariño 2024

• Sauvignon Blanc 2023

• Cabernet Franc 2023

• Merlot 2023

• Heritage 2022

• Petit Verdot 2023

• Tannat 2023

Overall, we enjoyed much of what we tasted, with a nice balance of familiar Virginia favorites and more adventurous selections.

Bringing Virginia Wine Home

Of course, a successful winery visit usually ends with a few bottles coming home with us.

The 10% tasting discount certainly helped make that decision easier.

We left with three bottles:

• Dolce Rubus: a sweet raspberry wine made from Merlot, Petit Verdot, Petit Sirah, and Malbec. It immediately reminded us of Williamsburg Winery’s Vin Licoreux de Framboise—rich, fruit-forward, and a fun dessert-style wine.

• La Belle Vie Rosé 2023

• Petit Verdot

Not a bad souvenir from a Virginia road trip.

A Winery Worth the Return Trip

What stood out most about returning to Potomac Point after nearly two decades was how much it had grown while still keeping the welcoming feeling we remembered.

Owners Skip and Cindi Causey trace their interest in wine back to the early 1990s, when they began visiting wineries in Napa and Sonoma before exploring Virginia’s growing wine scene. That passion eventually led them to create Potomac Point, which now produces more than a dozen wines across red, white, and sparkling varieties.

Whether you’re looking for a tasting, a meal, a special event, or simply a relaxing afternoon with a glass of wine, Potomac Point Winery offers the kind of experience that makes you slow down.

And sometimes, the best discoveries are the ones you make twice.

By Dathan Kazsuk
Photos courtesy of 1000 Piers

There’s something poetic about making gin inside a 100-year-old bank vault.

Maybe it’s the symbolism—taking something once designed to hold money and turning it into a place that holds spirits. Or maybe it’s just that when you walk into 1000 Piers in Washington, North Carolina, you realize pretty quickly this isn’t some hobbyist operation with a makeshift still and grandiose delusions.

This is a globally informed, locally rooted distillery that just happens to sit in one of the oldest buildings in town.

And yes, that old bank building matters.

Because before you even get into the gin, the botanicals, the London dry inspiration, the North Carolina ABC system, or the story of how one bottle came together after nearly 95 recipes, the place itself tells you something. This is not a distillery trying to look historic. It is historic.

The former bank space still carries the bones of what it once was. The vault door remains. The teller lobby has been transformed into a dining room. The old vault opens into the kitchen. It’s the kind of room where you don’t just order a cocktail—you look around and start asking questions.

That’s usually a good sign.

1000 Piers is based in Washington, North Carolina, or Little Washington, as many know it, a waterfront town that already knows a thing or two about history, trade, river traffic, and reinvention. So maybe it makes sense that this particular distillery would land here: a gin brand with one foot in British drinking culture, another in Eastern North Carolina, and both hands very much on the botanicals.

When I sat down with Jeremy Powers, who’s been helping grow the brand across North Carolina, it didn’t take long before the story unfolded—not just about gin, but about British naval history, Raleigh’s temperance movement, the North Carolina ABC maze, and a Londoner who narrowed 95 recipes down to one very intentional bottle.

For paid subscribers, we’re going deeper into the story behind 1000 Piers—including the Hackney family connection, the 100-year-old vault, how 95 gin recipes became one flagship bottle, why “London dry” doesn’t mean what many people think it means, and how this small-town distillery is quietly building statewide reach from Washington, North Carolina.

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I first heard about Red Phone Booth several years ago from a friend in Atlanta. He told me about this hidden speakeasy where you step inside an old red phone booth, dial a secret number on a rotary phone, and—if you know what you’re doing—a hidden door opens and lets you into another world.

He made it sound like one hell of an experience.

At the time, I figured I’d have to wait until my next trip to the ATL to experience this throwback to the days of flappers, cigars, and bootleg cocktails. Maybe I’d even spot Al Capone’s great-grandson sitting in a shadowy corner sipping from a bottle of Cristal.

You never know.

Then I heard that two local dentists, after falling in love with the Atlanta location, decided Durham needed its own red phone booth.

Now I had to know more.

I reached out to the firm handling the press for the new location and got inside for a media tour in July, while the place was still getting ready for its debut. Then, on August 12, another invitation landed in my inbox—this time for the soft opening ahead of the official opening weekend.

Red Phone Booth Durham is the company’s sixth location, joining two in Atlanta and locations in Nashville, Dallas and Miami. And, at least for the foreseeable future, Durham has the only Red Phone Booth in North Carolina.

This was going to be fun.

When Jen and I arrived, a hostess was stationed outside checking names against the list of “special elite” guests invited for the evening.

Our names were there.

First crisis avoided.

Next came the phone booth.

I stepped inside and was given the number to dial on the rotary phone. For you youngsters out there, a rotary phone has an actual dial with numbers on it that you stick your finger into and physically spin clockwise for every number you want to call.

I know.

Absolute madness.

But with me, nothing can ever be quite that simple.

I dialed the number.

BUSY SIGNAL.

Even the hostess gave me a look that seemed to say, “What?”

We tried again.

This time, success.

A panel inside the booth suddenly swung open, revealing the hidden entrance. On the other side was a dimly lit room filled with bourbon, leather, polished wood, and the sweet aroma of cigar smoke.

It felt like we had stepped backward about 100 years.

Red Phone Booth unapologetically borrows its atmosphere from the Prohibition era of the 1920s, when underground speakeasies poured illegal cocktails behind unmarked doors, with entrances protected by passwords, secret knocks, and knowing the right people.

General Manager Jen gave us a tour, taking us past the main bar, through the cigar humidor in the back, and upstairs to the second-floor lounge.

That’s where we decided to start.

Armed with two complimentary drink tickets apiece, we grabbed seats at the upstairs bar and met Aaron, our bartender for the moment. Jen ordered a dirty martini. I went with a smoked Old Fashioned.

Both were spot on.

Drinks in hand, we moved toward the back of the lounge, found a comfortable spot, and settled in for a while before eventually heading downstairs for round two—and food.

Before that, though, I met William.

William is essentially the keeper of the humidor.

The room stays locked, so if you want inside, you first need to find him. Once you do, he’ll walk you through the selection almost like a sommelier guiding you through a wine list.

Sweet. Leathery. Smoky. Espresso. Cedar. Mild. Full-bodied.

Whatever kind of cigar you’re looking for, William is your guy.

He also showed me a box containing some of Red Phone Booth’s most expensive cigars, checking in at nearly $250 a pop.

I decided looking was good enough.

Back at the main bar, I ordered a Corpse Reviver No. 2, while Jen attempted to get an espresso martini. They apparently didn’t have everything needed to make one, so someone handed her another gin-based cocktail “on the house” that had already been prepared.

My guess is somebody made an extra and Jen happened to be standing in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.

She said it wasn’t her favorite drink of the night.

Still.

Free is free.

By now, it was time to eat.

For the media preview, our first two cocktails were complimentary, along with one menu item per person. We decided to split two dishes: the steak and gorgonzola pizza and the peppadews nestled into a bed of fluffy goat cheese.

Both were fantastic.

And that pizza earned bonus points because Jen isn’t exactly president of the blue cheese fan club, yet she still liked it. The peppadews were an easier sell. She loves herself a peppadew.

We were also told that Red Phone Booth sends an employee from each location to Italy to learn the proper techniques for making its pizzas.

After trying the crust, I believe it.

It had that perfect combination—a little crunch on the outside with just enough chew in the middle.

Then it was time for another cocktail.

I went classic with a Negroni.

Jen ordered a Vesper Martini.

Thanks, Bond.

James Bond.

While I was talking with one of the PR folks sitting beside me, I glanced over and noticed something odd.

Jen had two martinis sitting in front of her.

“Is that one you finishing the drink from upstairs?”

“No. It’s the Vesper.”

“Then what’s that other one beside it? The one filled all the way to the top?”

“A Vesper.”

“Why do you have two Vespers?”

I have no idea what she said next because The Doors’ “Alabama Song” was playing just loudly enough to drown her out.

But somehow, by the end of the evening, Jen had managed to score approximately four complimentary cocktails.

Lucky girl.

Eventually, our night inside Durham’s newest speakeasy came to an end. Before leaving, though, we made sure to grab a few contacts at Red Phone Booth.

Because here’s the thing: once the opening parties are finished, you don’t simply stroll through that phone booth whenever you feel like it.

You need the code.

So the next time we visit, maybe we’ll already know exactly what numbers to spin into that rotary phone.

Maybe we’ll even bring a couple of friends and pretend we’re far more connected than we really are.

And there will be a next time.

By Jennifer Primrose
trianglearoundtown@gmail.com

Mead may be one of the oldest alcoholic beverages in the world, but for plenty of drinkers in North Carolina, it still feels like a discovery waiting to happen.

At Stardust Cellars, founder Nicolas Hogrefe is betting that the moment has arrived.

The road that brought him to mead was not exactly the plan. Hogrefe entered the industry as a wine microbiologist, building a facility focused on natural wine production and spontaneous fermentation. There were stomped grapes, planted vineyards, wines pressed from both local and international fruit, and a clear sense of where the business was supposed to go.

But selling those wines proved to be another matter entirely.

He found himself trying to explain dry wine and pét-nats to a local audience that often was not looking for either. At the same time, he says, North Carolina wine was fighting an uphill battle against its own reputation. Too much of the market had been defined by sweet, inexpensive bottles, and for newer producers trying to do something different, that perception was hard to overcome.

“Hardly any restaurants or bottle shops wanted any more North Carolina wines,” Hogrefe says. “The scene was oversaturated with sweet, cheap wine, and it tanked the entire industry’s perception of North Carolina wine.”

The pivot came not from grapes but from honey.

At Stardust Cellars’ original taproom in Wilkesboro, local residents would bring in mason jars of honey from their own hives. Hogrefe became intrigued by the quality and range of flavors he tasted, and before long, he began fermenting honey with the same mindset he had brought to wine.

“I fell in love with the flavors and quality of honey I tried and wanted to try fermenting it like I was making my wines, just with all the sugar coming from honey instead of fruit,” he says.

What he found was unexpected but decisive.

“Turns out, my methodology worked better for mead than for wine,” he says.

What started as experimentation quickly turned into something bigger. Stardust’s Ancestral Mead line began gaining traction in natural grocery stores like Weaver Street Market, where shoppers were introduced to a mead that looked nothing like the medieval stereotype many still imagine. Interest grew, distributors started saying yes, and Stardust expanded into cans and kegs.

“The rest is history,” Hogrefe says. “We became a meadery. You could say that mead chose me.”

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In the full story, we continue inside Stardust Cellars and look at how one North Carolina meadery is helping reshape what mead can be today.

Paid subscribers get the rest of the story, including how Hogrefe is using raw local honey, well water, wild fermentation and Appalachian terroir to create meads that feel more like the next wave of craft beverage than some dusty medieval novelty.

We also get into Stardust’s session meads, why cans and kegs matter, how craft beer drinkers became part of the plan, and why a gold medal-winning muscadine mead might say something bigger about the future of North Carolina fermentation.

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By Dathan Kazsuk
trianglearoundtown@gmail.com

We had already encountered the word appassimento at Raffaldini Vineyards in North Carolina, years ago. The winery uses the Italian drying technique to give several of its red wines greater depth and intensity—and boy are they good.

Then recently, we found it again at Sprucewood Shores Estate Winery near Windsor, Ontario.

Sprucewood’s Appassimento Cabernet Franc is made by slowly drying selected grapes for two to three months before fermentation. The winery says the process produces a wine with concentrated blackberry, cherry, plum, chocolate and spice flavors—and considerably more body than you might expect from a typical cool-climate Cabernet Franc.

That made us wonder: who else outside of Italy is making wine using the appassimento method—and where can we find them?

But first …

What is appassimento?

The word comes from the Italian verb appassire, meaning to wither or dry.

Instead of pressing freshly harvested grapes immediately, a winemaker places the clusters on racks, mats or trays inside a well-ventilated drying space. Over the following days, weeks or even months, water slowly evaporates from the grapes.

The berries become smaller and slightly shriveled, but the sugar, acids, aroma compounds and flavors remain. In other words, the grapes lose water without losing everything that makes them taste like grapes.

The result is more concentrated juice and a greater proportion of skins to juice during fermentation. Scientific research into post-harvest grape drying has found that the process can significantly alter and concentrate a grape’s aromatic and phenolic compounds—the substances that influence a wine’s aroma, color, tannin and structure.

This is the method famously used in Italy’s Veneto region to make Amarone della Valpolicella. But appassimento does not automatically produce sweet wine.

A winemaker can allow the concentrated sugars to ferment almost completely, producing a rich, powerful dry red such as Amarone—one of my favorites. Fermentation can also be stopped earlier, leaving more residual sugar and creating a sweeter wine such as Recioto.

That distinction is important. Appassimento describes what happens to the grapes, not necessarily how sweet the finished wine will be.

Why do it?

Because the grapes are partially dehydrated, appassimento wines frequently deliver darker fruit flavors, more alcohol, fuller texture and aromas that lean toward dried cherry, fig, plum, chocolate, tobacco and baking spice. And if you know anything about Raffaldini Vineyards, all its reds contain darker fruit flavors, and the ABV is pushing the limits.

But there is also a price for all that concentration.

Drying grapes reduces the amount of juice available. The winery must carefully control temperature, humidity, and airflow while monitoring the fruit for mold, rot, or excessive oxidation. It takes more grapes, more space, more labor and more time to produce the same number of bottles.

That helps explain why appassimento wines are generally a little higher in price, and made in limited-production releases rather than your average everyday reds.

American wineries using appassimento

Appassimento remains relatively uncommon in the United States, and there is no national registry tracking every producer that uses it. The following is a working list of wineries with documented appassimento-style red wines currently available or produced in recent vintages.

Raffaldini Vineyards — Ronda, North Carolina

Raffaldini is the best-known American practitioner of the method and says it dries more fruit through appassimento than any other winery in the country.

After harvest, red grapes are placed on racks inside the winery’s fruttaio, or fruit-drying room. Fans and heaters remove water until the grapes have lost approximately 25 percent of their weight, a process that can take up to 10 days.

Appassimento fruit appears in wines such as its Montepulciano Riserva and Il Falco. The winery says Sagrantino responds especially well to the treatment, developing concentrated dried plum, cherry, currant and tobacco characteristics.

Six Eighty Cellars — Ovid, New York

In the Finger Lakes, Six Eighty Cellars applies the Italian technique to Cabernet Franc.

The grapes are handpicked, arranged on wire racks and allowed to dry for several weeks. The concentrated juice is then fermented and aged in terracotta rather than conventional oak barrels.

The winery’s small-production Cabernet Franc Appassimento is made as a sweet red, combining dried fig, black cherry, molasses, clove and tobacco flavors with the natural acidity associated with Finger Lakes Cabernet Franc.

Chateau Niagara Winery — Newfane, New York

Chateau Niagara also uses Cabernet Franc, but takes a different approach.

The winery dries a portion of the harvested grapes until they have lost approximately 40 percent of their moisture. That intensely concentrated fruit is then incorporated into the wine, adding dried-fruit, leather, caramel and tobacco characteristics.

Its 2023 Cabernet Franc Appassimento earned Best of Show in the specialty division of the 2025 International Cabernet Franc Competition.

Scheid Vineyards — Monterey County, California

Scheid Vineyards produces a Cabernet Sauvignon Appassimento Reserve from Monterey County.

The current 2022 release is described as a full-bodied Cabernet with blackberry, ripe plum, elderberry, dried fig, and spice flavors. Unlike cool-climate wineries that may use drying to help increase concentration and ripeness, Scheid demonstrates how the method can also take already-ripe California Cabernet and push it into an even darker, more opulent style.

Mazza Vineyards — North East, Pennsylvania

Mazza Vineyards’ Appassionato is one of the more unusual examples because it is based primarily on Regent, a dark-skinned red grape developed in Germany.

The grapes are picked by hand and naturally dried for one month after harvest. The result is a limited-release, full-bodied dry red—not a dessert wine—with concentrated fruit and a richer structure.

Bending Branch Winery — Comfort, Texas

Bending Branch introduced its 2023 Texas Passito Reserve in July 2026.

The winery describes the new release as an Amarone-style Texas red inspired by the traditional appassimento method. Details about the grape blend and drying process have not yet been widely published, but its release shows the technique moving beyond the cooler wine regions where it has gained the most attention.

North Coast Winery and Wine Club — Solon, Ohio

North Coast has produced a Grand River Valley appassimento-style Bordeaux blend using grapes grown near Lake Erie.

The small-production project is closer to a working winery and winemaking club than a nationally distributed brand, but its wines have received medals in the Ohio Wine Competition and San Francisco Chronicle Wine Competition.

Sprucewood Shores Estate Winery — Harrow, Ontario

Just outside Windsor, Sprucewood Shores Estate Winery uses the appassimento method for its Hawk’s Flight Reserve Cabernet Franc.

Sprucewood’s version demonstrates why appassimento can be especially effective with Cabernet Franc in a cooler growing region. The drying process builds additional body, depth and dark-fruit intensity while preserving the variety’s natural character. The wine received a double-gold medal at the All Canadian Wine Championships and a silver medal at the 2026 Ontario Wine Awards.

Bigger does not always mean better

Appassimento can create an impressive wine, but it is not a magic trick.

Concentration can magnify a grape’s best characteristics, but it can also magnify excessive ripeness, alcohol, sweetness or heaviness. The best examples still need enough acidity and tannin to keep all that fruit from becoming thick and tiring.

When the balance works, however, the wines can be memorable: dark, layered, velvety and capable of changing in the glass over the course of an evening.

The grapes may come out of the drying room smaller than when they entered. But everything about the finished wine can feel considerably bigger.

By Jennifer Primrose
Photos by Jennifer Primrose and Dathan Kazsuk
trianglearoundtown@gmail.com

Some places you plan for. Others you stumble into—and end up talking about long after the trip is over.

Alexander Keith’s Brewery in downtown Halifax, Nova Scotia, falls firmly into that second category.

Founded in 1820, Alexander Keith’s is one of North America’s oldest working breweries. More than two centuries later, beer is still being made within its historic walls, but this is much more than a place to inspect brewing equipment and drink a few samples. It is part brewery, part living museum and part theatrical performance, all tied together with a distinctly Nova Scotian sense of humor.

Its story begins with Alexander Keith, who was born in Scotland in 1795 and trained in the brewing trade before making his way to Halifax. By 1820, he had established the brewery that would eventually become one of Nova Scotia’s most recognizable names.

Keith was more than a brewer. He became a prominent businessman and civic leader, serving as mayor and helping shape Halifax during the city’s growth as a major 19th-century port.

His brewery produced more than the IPA associated with the Keith’s name today. Early offerings included strong ale, porter, ginger wine, table beer and spruce beer—drinks that seem right at home in a maritime city built around ships, trade, hard work and a good story.

That is part of what makes visiting Alexander Keith’s feel different.

You are not simply stepping into a brewery. You are stepping into a piece of Halifax.

A Brewery That Tells a Story

Unlike modern brewery tours that lean heavily on stainless steel tanks, production numbers, and lengthy explanations of yeast, Alexander Keith’s takes a much more entertaining approach.

The guides are dressed in period clothing, but they do not simply stand beside artifacts and recite a memorized script. They become part of the story.

We were handed a sample of Keith’s IPA early in the experience and introduced to the Scottish immigrant whose beer would become closely connected with Nova Scotia. From there, the guides led us through a series of historic rooms filled with archival photographs, documents, old bottles and pieces of the brewery’s past.

The experience feels closer to a living museum than a technical brewery tour.

You still learn about the beer, but the information arrives through stories, humor and interaction rather than a classroom-style lecture. The guides keep the group moving, the scenery changes frequently, and there is always a sense that something else is waiting in the next room.

One of the most memorable artifacts was a bottle believed to be more than 100 years old. It had reportedly been recovered by a local scuba diver and was presented almost casually—as though finding century-old beer beneath the water is simply something that happens in Halifax.

By that point, the tour had already delivered history, humor and a pint.

But it had not yet reached its best part.

The rooms ahead would take us through the ingredients and process behind the beer before leading us toward a heavy wooden door, a room we were not allowed to film and the moment this stopped feeling like a brewery tour.

Paid subscribers can continue inside for the brewing experience, the surprise behind the Stag’s Head door, live music, more beer, additional photos and everything you need to know before booking the tour.

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By Jennifer Primrose
Triangle Around Town Co-Founder, WSET Level 1

We arrived at the 2026 North Carolina Wine & Grape Council Annual Meeting in Greensboro with our coffee, notebooks, pens, and the same curiosity that has kept us following this industry for years.

Held at the Bryan School of Business and Economics at UNC Greensboro, this was our first time attending the annual meeting, and as we settled into seats toward the back of the room, we knew we were in for a full day of conversations about an industry we have covered, tasted, and written about for a long time. From vineyard challenges and marketing strategies to tourism, education, and the future of NC wine, the day offered a valuable look at where the industry is today—and where leaders believe it is headed next.

One theme quickly became clear: North Carolina wine is continuing to mature, and the next chapter is not simply about growing more grapes or opening more tasting rooms. It is about telling a stronger, more unified story about what makes this state’s wine industry unique.

Finding A Stronger NC Wine Story

During the council’s year-in-review presentation, Executive Director Nicole Chesney discussed the continued evolution of the NC Wine brand—moving beyond simply introducing consumers to North Carolina wine and focusing more on creating meaningful connections.

A major part of that strategy centers around one of the industry’s greatest strengths: the tasting room.

While consumers have more choices than ever, the personal experience of visiting a winery remains something larger producers cannot easily replicate. Meeting the winemaker, walking through the vineyard, learning the story behind a bottle, and sharing that experience with friends are all opportunities for wineries to create lasting connections with visitors.

The council is also elevating the NC Wine Competition. It is no longer simply an event; it is becoming a strategic tool for producers looking for third-party validation and recognition in an increasingly competitive marketplace.

The Changing Wine Consumer

Andrew Adams of Wine Business Analytics provided a look at the national wine landscape—and some honest conversations about the challenges facing the industry.

Wine consumption in the U.S. is changing. Consumers are drinking differently, and while overall volume has declined, there remains opportunity in what many in the industry call “premiumization.” In other words, consumers may be purchasing fewer bottles, but they are often willing to spend more on wines that offer quality, authenticity, and a connection to place.

For North Carolina wineries, that creates an opportunity.

Smaller producers have something national brands cannot easily recreate: relationships. The tasting room experience, the connection with the people behind the wine, and the vineyard’s story remain powerful advantages.

The message was clear—success is not simply about selling wine. It is about creating experiences people remember.

Wine As A Tourism Experience

One of the biggest reminders from the meeting was that wineries are tourism businesses.

Katie Bailey and Hannah Huckabee from Visit NC discussed the important relationship between wineries and the state’s tourism network. A winery visit is often part of a larger travel experience that includes restaurants, lodging, attractions, and local communities.

But those partnerships only work when communication happens.

Wineries were encouraged to connect with their local Destination Marketing Organizations (DMOs), share upcoming events and experiences, and make sure tourism partners know what they offer.

A winery cannot be promoted if tourism organizations do not know it exists.

For an industry built around place, collaboration may be one of the most important ingredients for continued growth.

Preparing For The Future

Beyond marketing and tourism, the meeting highlighted the behind-the-scenes work supporting the future of NC wine.

• Education: Programs like those offered through Surry Community College continue to provide essential pathways for workforce development and viticulture and enology training.

• Digital Intentionality: Dr. Erik Byrd from UNC Greensboro encouraged wineries to think strategically about their online presence. He noted that wineries need to provide the detailed, useful information travelers seek as they plan trips and experiences through search tools—including emerging AI-powered platforms.

• Pest Management: Dr. Bill Foote of the NCDA&CS provided a critical update on the Spotted Lanternfly and the Yellow-Legged Hornet. The guidance for growers was one of preparation: monitor vineyards carefully, identify issues early, and work with trusted agricultural resources rather than relying on unnecessary preventative treatments.

Closing The Day

The day concluded with a networking wine tasting, giving us the opportunity to continue conversations from the day, connect with industry leaders, and taste a diverse range of wines currently being produced right here in North Carolina.

After a full day of presentations and conversations, we left with a better understanding of the challenges and opportunities facing North Carolina’s wine industry.

But perhaps the biggest takeaway was this: the story of North Carolina wine continues to be written by the people behind it.

The industry continues to evolve, but the foundation remains the same—passionate growers, dedicated winemakers, welcoming tasting rooms, and communities that recognize the value of wine tourism.

The next phase of NC wine will likely be shaped by collaboration—producers working together, tourism partners sharing the story, and consumers discovering that great wine experiences can be found right here in their own backyard.

For us, attending the 2026 NC Wine & Grape Council Annual Meeting was a reminder of why we have continued covering this industry for so many years. The story of North Carolina wine is always changing, and we look forward to continuing to tell it.

By Jennifer Primrose
trianglearoundtown@gmail.com

I’ve had a complicated relationship with rosé wine for years.

Not because I dislike rosé. Quite the opposite, actually.

Over the years, we’ve celebrated National Rosé Day, hosted blind tastings featuring exceptional rosés, paired them with everything from barbecue to summer afternoons, and spent plenty of time exploring what makes this category so popular. Yet despite all of that, I still find myself approaching every glass with a little uncertainty.

There is a particular style—or perhaps a grape variety commonly used in certain rosés—that simply doesn’t work for my palate. To this day, I haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly what it is. Every time I think I’ve solved the mystery, another bottle proves me wrong. Some rosé wines leave me counting the minutes until the next sip. Others leave me quietly wondering if I should have gone with literally anything else on the list.

That’s part of what makes rosé so interesting.

Unlike many wine categories that tend to have a more predictable throughline, rosé can shift dramatically depending on where it’s made, the grapes involved, and the winemaker’s intent. A pale, bone-dry Provençal-style rosé can feel like an entirely different wine from a deeper-hued, fruit-driven glass from another region. The only real constant is the color—though even that can range from the palest blush to a bold, vibrant pink.

During one of our mini-vacation to Lowcountry Savannah, Dathan and I found ourselves at The Emporium Kitchen & Wine Market at Perry Lane Hotel for its monthly Global Table dinner series. We were invited to experience the evening as part of our stay, which felt like a fortunate overlap of travel, wine, and curiosity rather than anything more formal.

The theme for the evening was Regions of Rosé—a multi-course dinner designed to explore different expressions of rosé from around the world, each paired with a dish that reflects its character, origin, or style.

An entire evening dedicated to rosé from multiple regions?

Count me in!

The concept is deceptively simple: take a category that’s often treated as seasonal or casual and stretch it across geography, technique, and perspective. Each course and wine pairing was meant to highlight the wide range of rosé when you stop treating it as a single style and start treating it as a spectrum.

Thankfully, the lineup leaned heavily toward the styles I tend to love—which is not always the case in my personal rosé roulette.

What followed was less a traditional wine dinner recap and more a gradual unfolding of how rosé can behave in different hands, alongside thoughtfully composed dishes from chef Miguel Bautista, in a room full of people experiencing it together.

From here, we’ll walk through each course and pairing, along with our impressions of the wines—what worked, what surprised us, and where a few familiar biases may or may not have been confirmed along the way.

But before I do, we can’t forget the welcome toast, the 2022 Crios rosé of malbec from Argentina. Made from 100% malbec, this wine was fresh, dry, and delicate, with aromas of strawberry and gooseberry.

First Course: Dressed blue crab, fried green tomato, strawberry chow-chow, micro herbs
Wine: 2024 Le Roi des Pierres, Sancerre rosé – Loire Valley, France

Yes, that pairing tasted as good as it read. Starting off strong with fresh, local blue crab and a Sancerre rosé. With aromas of pomegranate and hibiscus, the zippy acidity layers of ripened fruit were a perfect pairing with the lump of succulent crab meat, and paired even better with the strawberry chow-chow. And, of course, here in the Lowcountry, everyone knows how to perfect a fried green tomato, and that bright acidity added to the simple yet complex flavor of our first dish.

Second Course: Tiger shrimp pasta, fettuccine, tomato butter, confit tomato, preserved lemon, basil, and breadcrumbs
Wine: 2024 Morét-Brealynn, rosé of pinot noir – Santa Lucia Highlands, California

Pasta, shrimp, and pinot noir from Santa Lucia Highlands—can this be another great-tasting pairing? Upon the first sip of Morét-Brealynn, we didn’t think we’d like it, but it grew on us with its sun-kissed pink hue and tart pomegranate and cranberry flavors. Given its bright red hue, we expected a sweeter rosé, but it was dry and crisp. Its acidity went well with the fettuccine and tomato butter, not to mention the shrimp.

Third Course: Seared salmon, peach mostarda, corn purée, summer succotash, herb salad
Wine: 2023 The Language of Yes “Les Fruits Rouges” rosé – Central Coast, California

A blend of Grenache, Tibouren, and Cinsaut, this California rosé felt like exactly what the chef had in mind, pairing beautifully with the perfectly seared salmon. The fish was rich, buttery, and silky, and the wine brought just enough brightness to keep each bite feeling fresh. The succotash added a lovely seasonal touch, though the herb salad leaned a little too bitter for the plate, at least for our taste.

Fourth Course: Rosé panna cotta, lychee granita, white chocolate namelaka, compressed grapefruit, olive oil gel
Wine: 2024 Laetitia brut rosé – Arroyo Grande Valley, California

I believe this sparkling wine was made from Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, offering a beautifully structured, delicate finish to the evening with soft hints of raspberry and watermelon. It paired wonderfully with the course as a whole, but became even more interesting when tasted with each individual element—the lychee granita, the white chocolate namelaka, and the panna cotta itself. Together, it was a blissful, graceful way to end the night.

One thing I noticed while writing this a few days later was that, although the evening was presented as a “global” dinner, the wine pairings only spanned three regions: California, Argentina, and France. California certainly offers plenty of regional range on its own, but with a name like that, it would have been exciting to see one or two more stamps in the passport—perhaps South Africa, Australia, Italy, or another region that could have added a little more international reach to the evening.

Still, we have to hand it to chef Bautista for taking these rosé wines and building a thoughtful mix of seafood-focused dishes that kept us satisfied—and judging by the room, everyone else seemed pretty happy, too. The dinner ended up being a memorable addition to our Savannah vacation, and it’s one we would recommend to any food or wine lover visiting the city on the third Thursday of the month, especially if they want to close out the evening with great wine, creative dishes, and a seat at one of Savannah’s more interesting tables.

North Carolina is packed with places that don’t always make the travel brochures—but absolutely should. From small towns and historic sites to roadside stops, back roads, and unexpected finds, this series highlights places across the state that are genuinely worth the trip. Whether it’s a quick day drive or a weekend escape, these are the North Carolina spots that make getting in the car part of the experience.

This is not your standard brewery stop. It is not one tasting room with a parking lot and a polite little sign out front. The Chatham Beverage District is located within The Plant, a 17-acre site on the east side of Pittsboro that describes itself as an eco-industrial village where food, drink, art, music, and community all come together.

You can bounce from Fair Game Beverage Company to Starrlight Mead to BMC Brewing to Koshu Sake Bar, then drift toward coffee, Jamaican food, Mexican food, art, candles, flowers, native plants, or even axe throwing if your afternoon needs a little more volatility.

And that is the hook.

The Chatham Beverage District is one of those rare North Carolina spots that genuinely gives you variety without feeling scattered. The beverage lineup alone is enough to justify the drive. Fair Game serves spirits, wine, beer, and kombucha in its tasting room. Starrlight Mead gives you a deep dive into mead and ciders. BMC Brewing handles the pint crowd. Koshu brings curated sake flights into the mix. That kind of range is not something you run into every day, especially not gathered in one place where you can just roam around and build your own version of a good time.

What helps set it apart is that The Plant has an actual backstory, not just a branding concept. According to The Plant, the property began in the 1940s as Sunshine Gardens, once billed as the largest flower farm in the United States and known for giant chrysanthemums, including blooms used for John F. Kennedy’s 1961 inauguration. Later, the site became a metal alloys plant before being reclaimed in the early 2000s and reimagined into the eccentric community hub it is now.

That history gives the place a little more soul. You can feel it in the layout, in the patched-together creativity of it all, and in the fact that the whole district does not seem especially interested in behaving like a polished suburban entertainment complex.

The Plant continues to host events, including music-centered gatherings like Get Down at The Plant, which the Pittsboro-Siler City CVB listed this year as a full-day event with local music, food, and craft beverages. That same listing also ties the district into the Chatham County Craft Beverages & Country Inns Trail, which tells you this is very much part of a broader tourism and beverage identity in the county.

There is also something satisfying about the way it rewards wandering. One minute you are tasting mead, the next you are debating whether to grab coffee, a plate of Jamaican food, or another pour, and then suddenly you are looking at art or thinking maybe axe throwing is exactly the kind of bad idea your Saturday needed.

For anyone making the drive from the Triangle, this is the kind of outing that feels easy to recommend because it does not require you to commit to a single mood. Beer person? Fine. Mead person? Great. Spirits person? Also covered. Hungry? You are not stuck with a sad snack mix and a food truck gamble. Want more than just drinking? The site has art spaces, shops, and regular events layered into the mix.

The Chatham Beverage District is located at 220 Lorax Lane in Pittsboro, and The Plant says it is open seven days a week, with hours varying by business. Current listings show spots like Fair Game, Starrlight Mead, BMC Brewing, Koshu Sake Bar, Kingston 99 Kitchen, Ta Contento, and more operating on staggered schedules throughout the week.

It is not just that you can drink there. North Carolina has no shortage of places to do that. It is that the Chatham Beverage District feels like a small, eccentric town of its own—one where mead, sake, beer, spirits, food, music, and local weirdness all managed to move onto the same property and get along.

That is not normal.

Which is exactly why it is worth going.

There are certain times of year when logic quietly exits the room.

For Carolina Hurricanes fans, this is one of those times.

Everything becomes a ritual. Everything becomes a pattern. Everything becomes necessary.

A shirt that cannot be changed. A seat that cannot be moved. A sequence of events that must unfold in exactly the same way—or risk disrupting the entire universe.

It is not rational.

It is hockey.

And right now, it feels like it matters more than ever.

Throughout this Stanley Cup Final run, Jen has worn the same Tim Gleason shirt for every game. Not washed between wins. Not reconsidered after losses. Just… locked in.

Is it responsible for the outcome of games?

No.

Are we going to test that theory?

Also no.

Meanwhile, Dathan has taken on a different kind of responsibility—one that has quietly turned into its own playoff side quest.

Each game has come with a custom cocktail. Not repeated. Not replicated. Fully committed.

There was:

“Let’s Win Tonight So We Don’t Go To Vegas Down 0-2.” Crémant de Bourgogne, raspberry syrup, lime, a raspberry-orange rim, and a Twizzler swirl. It worked.

“Wheelz On The Bussi, Go Round and Round For A Canes Win.” A strawberry mimosa with Jarritos Fruit Punch Soda, Angostura bitters, and a splash of raspberry moonshine. It worked.

And perhaps most unhinged of all:

“In a Tropical Storm with my Commodore 64!” Homemade organic strawberry-rosemary simple syrup, vodka, lime, soda, habanero bitters, and a Kool-Aid pineapple chunk spear. It worked.

At this point, we’re no longer sure if the Hurricanes are playing hockey or if we’re conducting a highly unstable home laboratory of superstition, citrus, and playoff anxiety.

And yes—Dathan is already working on the next playoff cocktail.

As of this writing, it doesn’t have a name. It doesn’t have a recipe. But if this postseason has taught us anything, it’s that once something works, you don’t question it.

Even Brindy Bear—our Build-A-Bear Hurricanes devotee—has gotten involved, fully embracing the now-legendary “Tarps Off” energy that has taken over the fanbase.

There are no explanations.

Only vibes.

And somehow…

It’s working.

The Year Everything Changed

If you’ve been a Hurricanes fan long enough, you know there are seasons that feel different.

The year 2006 was one of them.

That was the year Carolina went from “incredible story” to “champions,” lifting the Stanley Cup in a moment that permanently reshaped hockey in North Carolina. It wasn’t just a win—it was a turning point. A before-and-after line in the sand.

Like many fans, we remember exactly where we were.

Back then, we were still dating.

Jen went to the Stanley Cup parade downtown, while Dathan attended the team celebration at what was then the RBC Center. Different places, same disbelief, same joy, same sense that something historic had just happened in front of us.

Not long after, we even had the surreal experience of having our photo taken with the Stanley Cup during a Durham Bulls game—one of those memories that still doesn’t quite feel real twenty years later.

And somehow, those moments never really stayed in the past.

They followed us.

All the way to Napa Valley.

Vineyard 36: Where Hockey and Wine Collide

We first learned about Vineyard 36 long before we ever set foot in Napa Valley.

It wasn’t random. It wasn’t accidental.

It was intentional.

As Hurricanes fans, the connection alone made it worth the trip—a winery tied to one of the most meaningful eras in franchise history.

During a 2018 trip to California, we finally made the visit.

Vineyard 36 wasn’t just another winery stop. It was a place connected to Cam Ward, Tim Gleason, and Jason Earnest—names Hurricanes fans immediately recognize from one of the most memorable eras in franchise history.

For us, it wasn’t just a tasting.

It was a continuation of a story we were still living.

Of course, no wine trip with us would be complete without a slight detour into chaos.

On the day of our visit, we were at Chateau Montelena enjoying a tasting—completely relaxed, completely in the moment, and completely unaware that time was absolutely not on our side.

Then the text came in.

A message from Vineyard 36 asking where we were.

We had drifted very close to missing our appointment.

There is a special kind of panic reserved for wine country etiquette violations.

We paid, thanked our hosts, and moved with the urgency of people who suddenly remembered they were not, in fact, the main characters of Napa Valley.

Our contact estimated about 30 minutes from Montelena to Vineyard 36, then housed at Vineyard 29.

Dathan made it in under 20.

To this day, we’re not asking questions.

We arrived with just enough time to catch our breath—and try to figure out how to get through the gate.

And in hindsight, it may have been the most “us” moment of the entire trip.

The Wines, the Cave, and the Moment It Clicked

One of our favorite memories came while standing in the cool caves at Vineyard 29, where Vineyard 36 was producing its wines.

We tasted several wines directly from the barrel, including one that wouldn’t be released until the following year: Black Aces.

There is something surreal about tasting a wine before it exists in the world—hearing its story, seeing where it’s going, and knowing you’ll recognize it again later on a shelf or in a glass somewhere else.

After the barrel tasting, we moved into the current releases, including UnMask and Cross Check.

We already had multiple vintages of Cross Check in our wine cellar at home—and before we left Napa, we made sure another bottle was coming back with us.

What we remember most wasn’t just the Hurricanes connection.

It was sitting down, tasting the wines, and realizing that Vineyard 36 wasn’t relying on a hockey story to sell bottles.

The wines stood on their own.

The Hurricanes’ connection got us there.

The wine made the visit memorable.

The Connection Never Really Left

That connection hasn’t faded.

Recently, Taylor’s Wine Shop in Raleigh hosted Cam Ward for a bottle signing featuring Vineyard 36 wines, complete with his handwritten “Go Canes” inscription.

They even had a limited number of signed bottles available, including:

• Five Bands 2023

• Guardian’s Rule 2023

• Black Aces 2023

It’s one of those reminders that this story didn’t end in Napa—it keeps circling back to North Carolina.

Why It Still Matters

There are wineries you visit.

There are wineries you remember.

And then there are wineries that become part of your personal sports mythology.

Vineyard 36 is firmly in that third category.

Not because it leans on hockey.

But because it doesn’t have to.

It exists in the space where memory, place, and passion overlap.

A Stanley Cup championship in Raleigh becomes a winery in Napa Valley.

A playoff run becomes a reason to revisit old stories.

A jersey becomes a superstition that refuses to change.

And somehow, twenty years later, we’re still finding new ways to live inside the moments that made us fans in the first place.

The Rituals Continue

And so here we are again.

Another deep playoff run.

Another set of superstitions we absolutely refuse to question.

A Tim Gleason shirt that has earned permanent status.

Cocktails that probably shouldn’t work—but somehow do.

A Build-A-Bear mascot fully committed to playoff chaos.

And somewhere between Raleigh and Napa, a reminder that none of this ever really leaves us.

Maybe that’s the real story.

Not the wins.

Not the losses.

But the fact is that these moments stay with us long after the final horn.

Let’s Go Canes.

By Jennifer Primrose
trianglearoundtown@gmail.com

It’s June 1.

May was NC Wine Month.

Wait… what? It was???

Because I blinked and missed it—and I don’t think I was alone.

North Carolina Wine Month this year felt…quiet. Not nonexistent. Not meaningless. Just oddly easy to miss unless you were already deep in the wine weeds, paying attention.

And I say that as someone who is very much in the wine weeds.

There was, of course, the Day 1 enthusiasm—content creators and influencers doing their necessary “hey, it’s NC Wine Month!” posts, like a collective digital toast.

And then, it seemed to trail off.

Not disappear entirely, but fade into the background faster than you’d expect for something meant to celebrate an entire statewide industry for a full month.

Wineries, on the other hand, actually felt more present this year in a different way—more consistent educational posts, more reminders that it was NC Wine Month, more effort to keep the conversation anchored beyond the first few days.

But even with that, the overall visibility still felt uneven.

And that unevenness is really what defined the month.

We were out there, but we couldn’t be everywhere.

We made it to the Taste of NC in Wilmington. We saw wineries at Got to Be NC (not technically a wine month event, but let’s not pretend wine wasn’t part of the conversation). And the month closed at the Governor’s Mansion, which is about as official a stamp of recognition as you can get without the wine itself being sworn into office.

That gathering also brought together not just wine-focused creators, but a wider mix of travel, food, lifestyle, and local content voices—the kind of cross-category visibility that, on paper, should help broaden the conversation beyond traditional wine circles.

But then comes the question that lingers after the glasses are cleared and the posts go live: Did it actually stick?

A reel here, a social media story there, a quick “what a great event” caption—and then most people have already moved on to the next stop, the next tasting, the next invitation in their inbox.

Which leads to a bigger question that feels more important than any single post: Did the event influence the influencers enough that they, in turn, influenced their followers to actually seek out—or even just think differently about—North Carolina wine?

Or did it simply become another beautifully attended moment that lived, briefly, on social media before fading into the feed?

And before this becomes a “nothing happened” narrative—that’s not the case at all.

Wineries were absolutely doing the work. Hosting events. Pouring wines. Talking to consumers. Educating people who still walk up expecting everything to taste like a beach vacation boxed wine from 2009.

But here’s the thing—most consumers are not in wine country on a Saturday afternoon accidentally discovering their next favorite bottle.

They’re in Raleigh. Or Durham. Or Charlotte. Standing in a bottle shop doing mental math on whether $30+ is a curiosity purchase or a commitment they’re not emotionally prepared for.

And that’s where the gap shows up.

Because I walked into a few bottle shops this May looking for even a whisper of NC Wine Month—a display, a featured section, anything that said: “this is happening right now.”

And what I mostly found was silence.

No signage. No spotlight bottles. No sense that one of the state’s own industries was actively being celebrated on the shelf.

Just wine doing what wine does, with NC Wine Month feeling more like an internal industry note than a public-facing moment.

We even asked friends if they’d noticed anything around town.

The answer was a collective shrug—which is really just the universal symbol for “I love you, but no.”

North Carolina wine is not what it used to be.

And that matters, because perception rarely updates itself.

A lot of that perception stems from the early days, when vineyards were being planted on former tobacco farmland. That history matters—not as nostalgia, but as context. The land was transitioning, the industry was still figuring itself out, and yes—there were wines that leaned sweet, wines that missed the mark, and plenty of early experimentation that came with building something from scratch.

That history is real.

But it is not current.

Today’s North Carolina wines are a completely different conversation—structured reds, crisp whites, sparkling wines, hybrid experimentation, and vineyard work that reflects decades of refinement instead of early-stage discovery.

We’re past “good for North Carolina.”

We’re just…good.

Full stop.

But if someone’s last experience with North Carolina wine was 10 or 15 years ago, I understand why that impression sticks.

“I tried NC wine once. It was too sweet.”

Cool. When was that?

“Oh…a while ago.”

Exactly.

And that’s the problem—perception doesn’t change because the wine changed. It changes when people run into it again.

Not in theory. Not in articles. In real life.

In retail spaces. On restaurant lists. At tastings where someone says, very casually, “Try this—it’s from here.”

Which is why the visibility gap matters more than anything else.

We saw that shift in real time at Unwined on White in Wake Forest, where Nicole Chesney with the NC Wine & Grape Council led a tasting that did exactly what these moments are supposed to do: put wine in front of people who weren’t already convinced.

And you could see it happening—people asking questions, tasting NC wines for the first time, and recalibrating what they thought they knew.

That shift doesn’t come from marketing.

It comes from exposure.

The same thing showed up at the Got to Be NC Festival—but with a more complicated lesson attached.

Some wineries were fully engaged. They talked, poured thoughtfully, told their stories, and made the wine feel like part of a conversation.

Others treated it more like a pouring station than an introduction.

And that difference matters.

Because you don’t change perception by handing someone a glass.

You change it by connecting the glass to something they remember.

And there’s something else sitting underneath all of this that can’t be ignored.

Price.

From a consumer standpoint, $30+ for an unfamiliar bottle of wine is a tipping point. From a retail standpoint, it becomes a question mark: will this move, or will it sit?

Both reactions are understandable.

North Carolina wine isn’t mass-produced, and it shouldn’t be. But value is still being filtered through familiarity—and unfamiliarity is expensive in its own way.

Which is why “just put it on the shelf” isn’t enough.

It has to be introduced.

Told.

Tasted.

And, more often than not, explained.

To be fair, the wines are earning recognition far beyond the state as well—quietly collecting awards outside North Carolina that most casual consumers never see.

That matters too.

Because it reinforces a simple point: the quality question is no longer the issue.

Visibility is.

North Carolina wine doesn’t need to convince anyone it exists.

It needs more chances to show up in everyday life and reintroduce itself to people who think they already know it.

Because the wine is ready.

The perception just hasn’t caught up yet.

And until those two things meet more consistently, NC Wine Month will keep feeling like something that happened, mostly in places you already knew to look.

By Dathan Kazsuk
trianglearoundtown@gmail.com

When you get invited to the Governor’s Mansion to drink wine, you clear your calendar.

That’s exactly what Jen and I did when the invitation came through from the Governor’s Mansion for Tuesday, May 19, where Governor Josh Stein, along with First Lady Anna Stein, would officially proclaim May as North Carolina Wine Month.

For Jen and I, through Triangle Around Town and our digital publication Screw it Wine, this wasn’t just another event with tiny pours and tons of obligatory selfies. We’ve been huge advocates of North Carolina wine for years, celebrating NC Wine Month since its inception and doing our best to tell the stories of the people and vineyards behind the wine.

So, yes, it was pretty cool to see North Carolina wine getting the kind of attention it deserves.

A lot of that momentum came through the work of Nicole Chesney, executive director of the North Carolina Wine & Grape Council, who helped bring around 20 North Carolina wineries to the mansion for an evening that started inside, moved outside and eventually became part industry gathering, part reunion, part “who’s who” of wine people, media folks, influencers, foodies and even state leaders.

Inside the mansion, we first heard from Governor Stein and Commissioner of Agriculture Steve Troxler, who spoke about the economic impact of the wine industry. As far as government proceedings go, this one had significantly better aromatics.

For us, the evening also became a chance to catch up with people we’ve known, written about, or been meaning to spend more time with. We first spotted John Wright, general manager of Sanctuary Vineyards out of Jarvisburg, whom we had just met a couple of days earlier at the Got to Be NC Festival at the NC State Fairgrounds. Nearby was Erik Martella of Erik Martella Wines, who continues to prove that muscadine does not have to taste like someone dissolved a spoonful of sugar into every ounce of wine.

From there, it turned into a rapid-fire tour of North Carolina wine personalities. Parker-Binns Vineyards’ Cory Lillberg was there, along with Becky and Deane Muhlenberg of Haze Gray Vineyards. Kristen and JW Ray of JOLO and Rayson were nearby. Lance and Tim from Hendersonville’s Marked Tree Vineyards were pouring, and Chuck and Diana Jones of Jones von Drehle Winery in Thurmond were part of the mix as well.

These are the people we try to highlight in actual stories—not just those quick selfies, a vague caption, and a disappearing social media blip that vanishes in 24 hours like a ghost with bad Wi-Fi.

We also caught up with Kether Smith and Deric McGuffey of Botanist & Barrel, where McGuffey and I once again went down the music rabbit hole, because apparently, if you give us enough time, the conversation will eventually take a left turn into bands, albums, and probably something wonderfully weird.

Sommelier Jeremy Stamps of The Wisdom Table stopped by to say hello, and Chesney introduced us to Manju Wagner, owner of The Somm Closet in Mount Airy, which is now firmly on our list of places we need to visit.

After Stein and Troxler finished their speeches, Chesney split everyone into three groups, led by Stamps, Wagner, and herself, to explore wines from North Carolina’s Coastal, Piedmont, and Mountain regions. The setup included Parker-Binns and Marked Tree representing the mountains, Sanctuary and Martella representing the coast, and Dynamis Estate Wines and Raffaldini Vineyards holding court outside on the patio for the Piedmont.

On the patio, we talked with Raffaldini’s Tanja Farr, who gave us a great idea for a future tasting at our house. Meanwhile, Dynamis’ Matt Wilson told us he enjoyed reading two of our recent stories featuring Dynamis and invited us back to the top of the hill to try some of their newest releases.

That’s the kind of conversation we love. Not just “nice wine, great event, see you next year,” but actual movement. Actual ideas. Actual storytelling possibilities.

And while the mansion itself was beautiful and the indoor tasting had its charm, the real action was outside on the grounds, where the wine was flowing, and the networking gears started turning.

Some of the bigger names in the local influencer world were there too, including NC Travel Eats, Experience Raleigh, Linda Eats World, and NC Tripping. We caught up with Carl and Christina and talked about a possible collaboration before diving deeper into the wines, ciders, and meads being poured across the lawn.

From Saint Paul Mountain Vineyards and Bragging Rooster, we sampled wines, ciders, and meads that showed the range of what North Carolina producers are doing beyond standard tasting-room expectations. At Souther Williams, which is in Fletcher, we finally got to try its Saperavi, which we had been waiting years for to be bottled and ready to drink. It did not disappoint.

We also talked with the family behind Rock of Ages Winery and tasted a red blend that had been aging for so long it practically deserved its own archaeological permit. And I mean that in the best possible way. It had depth, character, and just enough ancient mystery to make you wonder whether someone should have poured it into a goblet by candlelight.

Later, we chatted with State Senator Jay Chaudhuri, who posed for a photo with Jen while I started working my usual magic, floating the entirely reasonable idea that Midtown magazine should become the official magazine of the North Carolina General Assembly.

Think about it: each representative and senator, sitting at their desk with the latest issue hot off the press.

Is this official yet? No.

Should it be? Obviously.

But beyond the jokes, the photos, and the steady parade of wine glasses, the evening felt important. It was a real celebration of the North Carolina wine industry—and hopefully the kind of event that leads to something bigger than a few Instagram stories.

Because that’s the thing. This industry needs help. It needs people willing to do more than show up, take a selfie, tag the winery, and vanish into the algorithmic swamp. It needs collaboration. It needs coverage.

And if we all worked together—media, influencers, wineries, bottle shops, restaurants, tourism folks, and industry leaders—we might actually make some noise.

Of course, that would require everyone to stop whispering, side-eyeing, and playing the kind of high school cafeteria games that should have been left behind somewhere between gym class and bad bangs. It sometimes feels like an episode of The Gossip Girls: The NC Wine edition.

The funny thing is, as we walked back to our car parked near the Lieutenant Governor’s Mansion, we noticed a North Carolina craft beer event happening on the front lawn. Naturally, we recognized several people there, too, and were invited to have a beer and talk about the industry for a bit.

And boy, did we learn some things.

Let’s just say every sandbox has its toys, its castles, and its occasional kid throwing sand because someone else got the better bucket. Wine has its politics. Beer has its politics. Influencers have their politics. And somewhere in the middle are the people actually doing the work, trying to promote the state, tell the stories, and maybe help the whole thing grow without getting buried under gossip, egos, and whatever strange little turf wars happen when too many people have their hands in the cookie jar, feeling they’re King Cookie.

That’s where we come in.

After years of not just covering wine, but also food, beer, spirits, travel, and the strange little intersections where they all collide, we’ve learned that being in this industry long enough means people eventually tell you things. They tell you what’s working. They tell you what’s broken. They tell you who is showing up, who is phoning it in, and who is quietly doing the heavy lifting while others pose with a bottle and the nearest available warm body.

Our job, I suppose, is to keep listening—and then report honestly, fairly, and with just enough bite to keep it interesting.

Because we’re not just here to drink the wine.

We’re here to tell the story behind the glass.

Fifty years ago, a little blind tasting in Paris accidentally kicked the wine world in the shins.

The year was 1976. French wines were still considered untouchable. California was still treated by many as the sunburned surfer—think Jeff Spicoli. Heck, they even made Bo Barrett’s character in Bottle Shock a typical laid-back California kid.

But that’s exactly what happened at what became known as The Judgment of Paris.

Back then, it wasn’t a room full of Instagram sommeliers, TikTok wine prophets, and people holding WSET certificates like a handful of Pokémon trading cards. It was a blind tasting organized by British wine merchant Steven Spurrier and Patricia Gallagher, judged by French wine professionals and critics who were not exactly trembling in fear that California would beat France. Why would they? France was France. California was California. One had centuries of prestige. The other was only thinking of sex wax and fish tacos.

Then the results came in.

Château Montelena’s 1973 Chardonnay beat the white Burgundies. Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars’ 1973 S.L.V. Cabernet Sauvignon topped the Bordeaux. The French wine establishment clutched its pearls, California wine had its rocket-launch moment, and the rest of us have been talking about it ever since.

So, to mark the 50th anniversary of that tasting, our American Wine Society Triangle Chapter decided to do what any sensible wine group would do: gather together, pour a lineup of serious bottles blind, and let 28 people with score sheets, opinions, and dangerous confidence decide what still holds up.

The tasting was hosted by our friends at their home in Zebulon, where 26 paid slots sold out in less than a weekend at $110 per person. That tells you something. Put out good wine, and people will show up with a checkbook faster than you can say “Premier Cru.”

And these were not grocery-store Tuesday night bottles.

For the whites, we tasted:

2023 Joseph Drouhin Beaune Clos des Mouches Premier Cru Blanc Chardonnay
2024 Puligny-Montrachet Premier Cru Les Pucelles White Burgundy
2022 Château Montelena Chardonnay
2023 Freemark Abbey Chardonnay

For the reds, the lineup included:

2021 Grand Vin de Léoville du Marquis de Las Cases
2020 Château Haut-Brion Premier Grand Cru Classé
2021 Château Mouton Rothschild
2022 Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars S.L.V. Cabernet Sauvignon
2022 Clos du Val Cabernet Sauvignon

A grand total of nine wines. Each wine was tasted blind using the AWS 20-point wine evaluation chart. Of course, once you put a score sheet in front of a room full of wine drinkers, anything can happen. Especially when nobody knows whether the wine in the glass costs $35 or $1,000 a bottle.

The bottle prices alone made the lineup feel like a small financial crime scene.

Freemark Abbey came in at $34.99 per bottle. Joseph Drouhin was $309 per bottle. The Puligny-Montrachet was $200 per bottle. Château Montelena was $72 per bottle.

On the red side, Stag’s Leap S.L.V. was $250 per bottle. Château Mouton Rothschild was purchased at $720 per bottle, though it normally runs closer to $1,000. Clos du Val was $55.99. Château Haut-Brion was $599 per bottle. Léoville Las Cases was $299 per bottle.

So yes, this was not exactly boxed wine night at the neighborhood cul-de-sac party.

When the white wines were revealed, the group ranking came in like this:

1. 2023 Joseph Drouhin Beaune Clos des Mouches Premier Cru Blanc Chardonnay
2. 2023 Freemark Abbey Chardonnay
3. 2024 Puligny-Montrachet Premier Cru Les Pucelles White Burgundy
4. 2022 Château Montelena Chardonnay

That last one caused some laughter at our table because, of course, Château Montelena was the California Chardonnay that shocked the world 50 years ago. This time around, our group put it dead last among the whites.

“This is what happens when you have a bunch of Southern hicks rating wine,” someone at our table joked.

And honestly, that is the beauty of blind tasting. Labels disappear. Price tags disappear. Reputation gets shoved into a closet. All that’s left is the wine in the glass and whatever your taste buds decide to do with it.

Dathan’s white ranking was Freemark Abbey first, followed by Joseph Drouhin, Puligny-Montrachet, and Château Montelena. That made his lineup a nice little France-U.S.-France-U.S. shuffle, because apparently his palate wanted to start a diplomatic incident but stay polite about it.

Jen went the other direction. She tied Joseph Drouhin and Puligny-Montrachet for first, then tied Freemark Abbey and Château Montelena for second. In other words, Jen sided with France in the white wine battle. Somewhere, a Burgundian monk probably nodded approvingly.

Then came the reds, which is where things got even more interesting.

The group ranking finished this way:

1. 2022 Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars S.L.V. Cabernet Sauvignon
2. 2021 Grand Vin de Léoville du Marquis de Las Cases
3. 2022 Clos du Val Cabernet Sauvignon
4. 2020 Château Haut-Brion Premier Grand Cru Classé
5. 2021 Château Mouton Rothschild

Now this is where the room collectively looked at the results and had one of those “wait, what just happened?” moments.

On one hand, we did what Paris did 50 years ago. The American Stag’s Leap came out on top. The California Cabernet planted its flag, flexed a little and reminded everyone that Napa still knows how to show up in a blind tasting.

But then there was Mouton Rothschild.

Château Mouton Rothschild. One of the most recognizable and sought-after names in Bordeaux. The most expensive bottle in our lineup. A label that makes wine collectors breathe differently.

And our group ranked it last among the reds.

Again, this is why you don’t let Southern hicks professionally rank wine. We will take your legendary First Growth, swirl it, sniff it, sip it, nod thoughtfully, write down a number, and somehow send it to the basement.

For the record, Dathan strongly objects to this result.

His red ranking put Clos du Val first, followed by Mouton Rothschild, Stag’s Leap, Haut-Brion, and Léoville Las Cases. So yes, he had Mouton as his second-favorite wine in the red flight. Not because it was expensive. Not because the name carried weight. We were tasting blind, so nobody knew what was what. But once the labels were revealed and Mouton showed up in last place overall, there was definitely a moment of “seriously?”

Jen, meanwhile, put Mouton Rothschild first. She then had Clos du Val, Haut-Brion, and Léoville Las Cases tied for second, with Stag’s Leap at the bottom. So while the room crowned Stag’s Leap, Jen politely threw the crown across the table and handed it to Bordeaux.

That’s the fun of this kind of tasting. Nobody is really wrong, though some of us are clearly more correct than others—depending entirely on who is telling the story.

What everyone at our table agreed on, though, is that every single wine was excellent. Nobody was pushing a glass away. Nobody was muttering about dumping anything into the bushes. Even the Chardonnays—yes, even for those of us who are not usually running through the streets waving the Chardonnay flag—were beautifully made, expressive, and worth spending time with.

That may be the real lesson 50 years after the Judgment of Paris.

The original tasting helped prove that great wine was not limited to one country, one region, or one old-world idea of prestige. It showed that California belonged in the conversation. It also showed that blind tastings have a wonderful way of humbling everybody, from critics to collectors to enthusiastic wine drinkers sitting around a table in Zebulon.

Fifty years later, the labels still matter. History still matters. Price still gets people’s attention. But once the bottles are wrapped and the glasses are poured, all bets are off.

Sometimes Château Montelena finishes last.

Sometimes Stag’s Leap wins again.

Sometimes Mouton Rothschild gets dragged into fifth place by a room full of North Carolinians with pencils and opinions.

And sometimes that’s exactly what makes wine fun. 🍷

North Carolina is packed with places that don’t always make the travel brochures—but absolutely should. From small towns and historic sites to roadside stops, back roads, and unexpected finds, this series highlights places across the state that are genuinely worth the trip. Whether it’s a quick day drive or a weekend escape, these are the North Carolina spots that make getting in the car part of the experience.

If you’re searching for a hidden North Carolina winery worth the drive, Zimmerman Vineyards in Trinity deserves a serious look. Set on 140 acres at the foot of Mt. Shepherd, this family-run Randolph County spot offers estate-grown wines, scenic terrace views, live local music in season, and the kind of relaxed atmosphere that reminds you wine doesn’t always need a big-name destination to feel special.

That may be why it still feels like such a find. It opened to the public on June 1, 2007, as Randolph County’s first commercial vineyard, and today it remains a family-owned operation managed by siblings Lauren, Shane, and Adriaan Zimmerman, along with Megan Griffin and Alex Myers.

That matters because you can still feel the family piece of it.

In an era when some wine experiences seem engineered to death—priced, packaged, and polished until they lose every trace of personality—Zimmerman still sounds like a place built around hospitality first. The current setup is simple and appealing: weekend hours from March through November, a winter break from December through February, wines made exclusively from grapes grown on-site, and a visit experience that encourages people to slow down rather than rushing through a flight and bolting for the parking lot.

And that is part of the hidden gem charm.

Zimmerman is not selling the fantasy of a wine-country theme park. It is selling a far better idea—good views, a laid-back terrace, a family story with roots, and the kind of afternoon that feels easy.

The wines themselves also give the place a personality beyond the usual red-white-sweet divide. On the current list are bottles including Rosé Rush, Merlot Rosé, a white Sisyphus, White Persephone, Heir of Hypnos, a red Sisyphus, a red Persephone, and the dessert wine Aegina. The names continue the winery’s long-running Greek mythology theme, with Sisyphus remaining the signature image on the labels—a metaphor the family directly connects to the long uphill work of building a vineyard dream.

That mythology thread could have come off gimmicky in lesser hands. Here, it feels more like a family giving its wines a shared vocabulary. There is struggle in that Sisyphus image, sure, but also persistence, which frankly is a pretty fitting emblem for North Carolina wine in general.

And Zimmerman has added a few smart touches that make it easier to see why it stands out for more than just scenery. Visitors are welcome to bring a picnic during normal business hours, pets are allowed on the grounds and terrace if leashed and up to date on vaccines, and the winery offers charcuterie boards featuring Goat Lady Dairy cheese. That is the sort of practical hospitality that can turn a quick tasting stop into a whole afternoon.

The business has also clearly grown beyond just a tasting-room stop. Zimmerman is actively positioning itself as an events venue, offering weddings for up to 100 guests, with 14 hours of venue use, a rehearsal window, a terrace, a tent, suites, and on-site wine service. It also hosts private events including showers, engagement parties and birthdays. Meanwhile, its wine club offers two six-bottle pickups per year plus member discounts and pickup parties in April and September.

For a Substack audience that likes discovering places before they become everybody else’s weekend content, that is exactly the appeal. Zimmerman Vineyards still feels personal. It still feels like a drive worth taking because you found it, not because an algorithm shoved it into your face six hundred times between brunch reels and real estate ads.

And in North Carolina, that may be the sweeter pour. Don’t we don’t me muscadine.

Sometimes a hidden gem is hidden for a reason. Sometimes it is simply off the main script.

Zimmerman Vineyards feels like the second kind.

Editor’s Note: May is NC Wine Month, so we’re raising a glass to the wineries, growers, makers, and dreamers helping push North Carolina wine forward. This story comes from a past visit to Dynamis Estate Wines, where ambition, mountain weather, and patience all ended up in the same glass.

There are winery visits where you politely sip through the lineup, nod at the pretty views, say something vaguely intelligent about tannins, and leave with a bottle because you’re a decent human being.

Then there are visits like Dynamis Estate Wines.

This was less of a tasting and more of a long, winding walk through the brain of a winery still deciding how far it can push North Carolina wine before somebody tells it to calm down. Mat Worrell and Katy Kidd didn’t just pour wine for us. They pulled back the curtain—sometimes literally—on the tanks, barrels, concrete egg, bottling headaches, farming gambles, glassware debates, and the kind of vintage-by-vintage decision-making that makes wine less like a recipe and more like a weather report with consequences.

Dynamis sits in that rare space where ambition and practicality are constantly arm wrestling. Yes, the place has polish. Yes, the wines carry themselves with a kind of quiet confidence. But behind that calm, finished glass is a lot of calculated chaos: frost, hurricanes, harvest timing, tank space, bottling logistics, and the eternal question of whether a wine is truly worth putting the Dynamis name on the label.

That last part may be the most important.

Plenty of wineries talk about quality. Dynamis seems built around the idea that quality also means restraint. If a vintage doesn’t give them what they want, they don’t force it into the bottle just to keep the wine list looking full. If the fruit isn’t there, they would rather sell it, blend carefully, or make less wine than pretend every year is a triumph. That sounds simple until you remember that wineries are businesses, and businesses generally prefer to have things to sell.

At Dynamis, the answer seems to be: only if it deserves to be sold.

During our visit, the conversation kept circling back to vintage variation. In North Carolina, that phrase is not some romantic wine-world slogan. It is a real thing with real teeth. The odd years have been strong. The even years, as Mat put it in spirit, have been more complicated. Frost may not hit them as hard as some vineyards because of elevation, but hurricanes remain the nasty little goblin waiting at the end of the growing season. Red grapes, especially, require patience. Pick too early, and you may save the crop but lose the magic. Wait too long, and the weather may decide it owns your vineyard now.

That is the gamble.

One of the more fascinating wines we tasted was a Cabernet Sauvignon that began as something closer to an experiment, or at least a wine that may have been destined for blending. Instead, it started showing something bigger. The fruit had undergone a kind of on-vine dehydration after a late-season frost, creating intensity, ripeness, and a profile Mat compared more to warmer-climate regions than to what many people expect from North Carolina Cabernet. The grapes came in clean. The wine finished fermentation. It had structure, heat, pepper, depth, and a story you don’t get from a spreadsheet.

This is the kind of thing that makes Dynamis interesting. They are not trying to copy California. They are not apologizing for North Carolina. They are looking at what the site offers, what the vintage allows, and what the winery can do without crossing the line into gimmickry.

That same curiosity showed up in the rosé. Dynamis does not treat rosé as an afterthought or a byproduct. Their rosé is intentional, picked for that purpose, not bled off as a side project. The one we tasted had been handled with care, pressed after skin contact, and aged in a concrete egg, which gives the wine a different texture without making it heavy. There was even talk of possibly experimenting with a barrel-aged rosé down the road, though nothing about the conversation suggested they would do it just because it sounds cool.

At Dynamis, “cool” still has to pass the glass test.

There was also a surprisingly serious discussion about glassware, which is exactly the sort of rabbit hole wine people fall into, and non-wine people assume is nonsense. But here, it made sense. Mat talked about wanting guests to feel comfortable swirling wine, not intimidated by it. The glass doesn’t magically change the wine, but it changes how you experience aroma. It changes confidence. It changes whether someone feels like wine is for them or for the person at the next table who says “volatile compounds” without blinking.

That may be one of Dynamis’s quieter strengths. For all the technical thinking behind the wines, the experience doesn’t feel cold. It feels personal. Mat and Katy are involved in the way owners are involved when the winery is not just a brand but a living organism they have to feed, defend, and occasionally wrestle into submission. They are there for tastings, wine club events, cellar conversations, and the endless parade of decisions most guests never see.

The apple project may be the clearest example of that restless curiosity. Dynamis also has orchard fruit on the property, and rather than simply forcing cider into a tasting room built around wine, they are working on a fortified apple-based aperitif inspired by pommeau. It is made from estate apples, blended with apple brandy distilled through their relationship with Windsor Run, then barrel-aged. The sweetness comes from the fruit itself, not a bag of sugar thrown in like a crime scene. The result is something meant less for pint glasses and more for that elegant pre-dinner moment when you are walking through someone’s home pretending you didn’t already eye the cheese board.

It is a small-production release, the kind of thing wine club members will likely fight over politely before it disappears.

And that may be the larger story of Dynamis right now. This is still a young winery in many ways, but it does not feel tentative. It feels like a place moving with purpose. The production is not massive. The choices are deliberate. The risks are real. The wines are not trying to be everything to everyone, which is probably why they feel more memorable than many that do.

By the time we left, Dynamis felt less like a stop on a wine trail and more like a study in what North Carolina wine can become when the people behind it refuse to make excuses. The mountain weather may have its own agenda. The grapes may not always cooperate. The tanks may be empty when visitors expect them to be full. A wine may take years to settle into itself before the public finally catches up.

But when it works, it works.

And at Dynamis, the best things seem to happen when patience, science, instinct, and just enough stubbornness end up in the same glass.

Originally published in Screw it Wine Issue 12, this updated story revisits our conversation with the team behind euda wine, a North Carolina wine project that felt worth watching from the beginning. A couple of years—and one very disruptive hurricane—later, we’re resharing the story with a fresh look at where euda stands now and why it remains one of the state’s more compelling wine projects.

There’s a certain type of person who looks at an emerging wine region and sees opportunity instead of risk. Michael McGeary is one of those people.

Before Old Fort, before euda, before the quiet confidence of letting wines “make themselves,” there was Aspen. Restaurants. Late nights. A manager who pushed wine education not as a luxury, but as a necessity. That’s where McGeary’s path started—on the floor, selling bottles, learning fast, and eventually chasing a sommelier certification.

It didn’t take long before that wasn’t enough.

A chance conversation with a Napa salesman turned into something bigger. Two weeks later, McGeary was in California, in the middle of a harvest, learning the side of wine that doesn’t come with a corkscrew and a polished spiel. Bottling lines, long days, physical work—the kind of education that strips away any romantic illusions and replaces them with something more durable.

“It was unique to work and create something you can put in someone’s hand at the end of the day,” he said.

That realization stuck.

Over the next several years, McGeary built what you could call a global résumé without the ego that usually comes with it. Napa became his home base, but he also had stints in New Zealand and South Africa, followed by formal education in Switzerland, where he earned his master’s. Chile added another harvest. Virginia added perspective. Maryland added leadership.

Each stop sharpened the same idea: great wine doesn’t need to be overworked.

Building Something Where Others Wouldn’t

By the time McGeary and his wife Abi made the move to North Carolina in 2022, they weren’t chasing prestige—they were chasing possibility.

Abi, whose background spans social work and therapy, became an integral part of the business, balancing a full-time career while helping shape euda’s events, community presence, and overall feel. Together, they built the winery around a concept that’s easy to say and harder to execute: eudaimonia—a life well lived.

That philosophy shows up in the way they approach wine, and maybe more importantly, in the way they approach people.

North Carolina wasn’t the obvious choice. Even now, it still isn’t for many in the industry.

“When I left California for Virginia, people thought I was crazy,” McGeary said. “Then leaving Virginia for North Carolina, it was the same thing—‘They don’t know how to make wine there.’”

That doubt is part of the appeal.

Rather than stepping into an established region with rigid expectations, euda landed in Old Fort—a small town just outside Asheville, close enough to draw visitors but far enough to feel like its own thing. A place still figuring itself out, much like North Carolina wine as a whole.

A Minimalist Approach in a Maximum Effort Industry

If there’s a defining thread in euda’s winemaking, it’s restraint.

Old World influence shows up not in marketing language, but in practice. Fermentations are spontaneous. Additions are minimal. Intervention is kept to a level that would make some modern producers uncomfortable.

The idea isn’t to do nothing—it’s to do less, intentionally.

“All our fermentations are spontaneous,” McGeary explained. “We try to do the least amount of stuff we can in the winery.”

That philosophy extends to sourcing as well. While euda doesn’t yet farm its own vineyard, the focus has been on building relationships with growers, primarily in the Yadkin Valley, while exploring more local opportunities as they grow.

The long-term goal is clear: control the fruit, control the farming, control the outcome.

The short-term reality is equally clear: vineyards are expensive, and patience is part of the process.

The Wines—and the Direction

From the start, euda positioned itself with a lineup that leans both ambitious and approachable: sparkling wines, structured reds, fresh whites, and a carbonic red that hints at a willingness to experiment without overcomplicating things.

Early releases included a mix of styles designed to introduce the brand, with plans to expand into varietals like Sauvignon Blanc, Riesling, and a Merlot-based rosé.

It’s not about chasing trends. It’s about building a portfolio that reflects both place and philosophy.

After the Storm

Since our original conversation, Western North Carolina has faced its share of challenges, including a hurricane that impacted communities across the region. Old Fort, like many small towns nearby, felt those effects—disruptions, recovery efforts, and the kind of uncertainty that tests young businesses.

For a winery like euda, still in its early stages, moments like that can either stall momentum or sharpen focus.

In many ways, it’s done the latter.

Recovery in towns like Old Fort isn’t just about infrastructure—it’s about community. Businesses supporting each other. Locals are showing up. Visitors returning. And in that environment, places like euda play a role that goes beyond wine.

They become gathering spaces.

They become proof that starting something from scratch—even in a place others overlook—is still worth it.

Why euda Still Matters

There’s a temptation to judge wineries too early. To look at a new label and ask if it’s “there yet.”

That’s missing the point.

euda isn’t trying to drop into North Carolina as a finished product. It’s building something in real time—shaped by experience, grounded in philosophy, and influenced by a region still defining itself.

And that’s exactly why it works.

Because if North Carolina wine is still in its build phase, then euda fits right in—not as an outlier, but as part of the foundation.