Wine vs. Climate: The Grapes We May Lose Forever

I spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about grapes.

That probably comes with the whole sommelier thing, but I think about where they grow, why someone planted them on a hill that looks specifically designed to break human ankles (Germany, I’m looking at you), and how a bottle can taste completely different from the vineyard sitting just one mile away.

Wine people love history too. We love telling you that monks planted something 800 years ago or that Romans carried vines across a mountain, probably while wearing terrible shoes. We’ll point at an old vineyard and explain that the same patch of land has been producing wine longer than some countries have existed. There’s something comforting about that kind of permanence. Thinking that something someone built or created will still be here long after they’ve left this world for their next grand adventure.

The vineyard was here before us, and it’ll be here after us. The old vines will continue pushing their roots through the same limestone, slate, sand, clay, or volcanic rock while generations come and go around them. At least, that’s how the story usually goes.

Lately, though, the weather has started editing the ending. Harvests are arriving earlier, summers are hotter and rain falls at the wrong time or barely falls at all. Fires can damage grapes without ever touching the vineyard in some parts of the world, and winters that once froze grapes solid now pass without giving ice wine producers the temperatures they need.

Some of the wines we know today may taste very different within our lifetimes. A few may become so difficult to produce in their traditional homes that they disappear from those places altogether.

Wine will survive, it always does, and I’m not here to spread panic, there’s enough of that nonsense on social media and in the news. I, personally, believe the climate change is overhyped because there’s billions of dollars poured into it and then stolen by others, but that doesn’t mean some of the changes aren’t real. Grapevines are stubborn and people are endlessly creative when their livelihood depends on keeping a plant alive. The version of wine we inherit, though, might look very different from the one we know now.

Climate Change Is Already Showing Up in the Glass

Wine is agriculture wearing nice clothes and a fancy little glass bottle.

Sommeliers like myself talk about vintages with polished language and pour them into delicate glasses that are hard to clean without breaking, but every bottle begins outside with a plant trying to survive the weather. Grapevines need enough heat to ripen their fruit, enough water to function, enough cool weather to preserve acidity, and enough cooperation from the seasons to make it through flowering and harvest. They’re flexible plants, but fine wine depends on a surprisingly specific balance.

Warmth helps grapes build sugar while cool conditions preserve acidity. Time allows flavors, tannins, skins, and seeds to develop properly. When everything lines up, the grape reaches ripeness as a complete little package. Of course life is life, so anything that can go wrong…

When temperatures climb too quickly, sugar can race ahead while the rest of the grape is still catching up. The winemaker then has a choice to either pick early and risk flavors that feel underdeveloped, or wait for flavor and end up with more sugar, lower acidity, and potentially much higher alcohol.

There are plenty of rich, ripe, high-alcohol wines that taste wonderful. The problem comes when every vintage begins moving in that direction, including wines historically loved for being delicate, bright, floral, or wonderfully light on their feet. Earlier harvests are now common across many established regions. Grapes that once hung into October may be coming in during August or early September. Spring warmth can also wake vines earlier, leaving tender new growth exposed when frost returns. This is a big problem currently in Pennsylvania that winemakers are struggling with.

Then there’s drought, hail, wildfire smoke, flooding, new pest pressure, sunburn, disease, and all the other charming little surprises that make farming seem like an emotionally questionable career choice.

One difficult season can damage a crop, but several difficult seasons can change the future of an entire vineyard.

Napa Valley, California

Napa Valley built much of its modern reputation on Cabernet Sauvignon. The region has warm days, cooler nights, varied elevations, and an astonishing collection of soils packed into a relatively small area. It also has increasingly hot summers, serious water concerns, and wildfire seasons that can turn harvest into a laboratory experiment.

The 2020 fires showed how complicated smoke damage can be. I was there that year with my friend Jamie Rubin when the fires broke out and we were evacuated. Flames don’t need to reach the vines for grapes to become affected though. Smoke compounds can settle onto the skins and later reveal themselves during fermentation as bitter, ashy, medicinal flavors.

That’s the especially awful part for the wineries, because healthy-looking grapes can arrive at the winery carrying damage that isn’t immediately obvious.

Some producers rejected fruit while others made less wine than usual or decided that certain lots couldn’t become the bottles they were intended to be. Labs became part of harvest planning because winemakers needed to know whether their grapes still had a future.

Cabernet Sauvignon will probably remain part of Napa for a long time. Growers are already changing canopy management, studying drought-tolerant rootstocks, planting at higher elevations, adjusting harvest dates, and experimenting with grapes that handle heat more comfortably. Still, the style may change.

The Napa Cabernet of the future could come from different elevations, different clones, different farming systems, or different parts of the valley. Some cooler pockets may become much more valuable and some vineyards may require so much water, labor, and intervention that continuing no longer makes financial sense.

The name on the label can stay the same while the wine inside it slowly becomes someone new.

Burgundy, France

Burgundy made an entire global reputation from two grapes that aren’t exactly known for being low-maintenance.

Pinot Noir has thin skins, tight clusters, and opinions about everything. It’s also the grape that refuses to make good wine if any conditions aren’t perfect. Chardonnay is much more adaptable, but the wines of Chablis, Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet, and the rest of Burgundy depend on very particular relationships between climate, soil, farming, and ripeness.

A warmer vintage can produce beautiful Burgundy. Anyone who has tasted a generous, perfectly ripe Pinot Noir from a strong warm year already knows that. Repeated heat though…that creates something a little different. Pinot Noir can lose some of the acidity, perfume, and fine structure that made certain vineyards famous. Chardonnay can become broader and riper while losing the sharp mineral edge people expect from cooler sites. Sunburn can damage exposed berries, while early budding leaves vines vulnerable to sudden spring frost.

Hail adds another layer of chaos because apparently the weather decided growing Pinot Noir wasn’t already stressful enough.

Burgundy’s growers are adapting of course. They’re changing pruning methods, adjusting leaf cover, picking earlier, rethinking row orientation, improving soil health, and studying old vine material that may respond better to heat.

The vineyards won’t all vanish, but their historical personalities might become harder to hold onto in the future.

That matters in a place where tiny differences between neighboring parcels have been studied, named, priced, and argued over for literal centuries.

The Mosel Valley, Germany

The Mosel is where people looked at impossibly steep slate slopes and decided farming them by hand would be a reasonable long-term plan.

I’ve climbed some of those vineyards myself, and I have no idea how anyone works there every day without eventually rolling directly into the river/and rolling their ankle. The ground shifts under your feet, the rows seem to rise straight into the sky, and some vines grow individually along stakes because normal trellising barely makes sense on the incline.

Those slopes historically helped Riesling ripen in a cold climate. Slate absorbed warmth during the day, the river reflected sunlight, and the steep angle gave grapes more exposure. For many years, warmer temperatures actually helped growers achieve ripeness more consistently, but now the balance is becoming more complicated.

Riesling can ripen earlier and build sugar quickly. The naturally high acidity that gives Mosel wine its energy can fall as grapes remain on the vine. Delicate floral and citrus aromas may become riper and broader. Light, low-alcohol styles become harder to produce when the fruit arrives with more sugar.

There will still be Riesling in Germany of course. Some recent warm vintages have produced extraordinary wines, and growers have more tools and knowledge than previous generations could have imagined.

The question is what kind of Riesling becomes normal.

I love a generous dry Riesling, but I also love those almost weightless Mosel wines that somehow carry lime, flowers, wet slate, peach skin, and an entire steep hillside at seven or eight percent alcohol. I’d really like future drinkers to meet those wines too.

(Yes, the picture I chose was of Pinot Noir, not Riesling because I just think I took a good photo and wanted to share it with you.)

Mendoza, Argentina

Mendoza looks dry because it is dry. Shocking, right?

The region depends heavily on water flowing down from the Andes. Snow accumulates in the mountains, melts, and feeds the irrigation systems that allow vineyards to exist in an otherwise arid landscape.

That water supply is becoming less predictable as reduced snowpack, glacial retreat, prolonged drought, and competition for water place enormous pressure on growers. Irrigation systems can become more efficient, but efficiency only stretches a resource so far when less of it arrives.

Producers are responding by moving higher into the mountains, searching for cooler sites, improving irrigation, and studying how different soils hold moisture. It’s a good enough work-around. I mean, high-elevation Malbec can be spectacular. The wines often carry freshness, floral character, dark fruit, and a kind of mountain sharpness that keeps the grape from feeling heavy.

Going higher gives growers new possibilities, but mountains eventually run out of vineyard-friendly space and you can’t keep climbing forever.

Santorini, Greece

Santorini’s vineyards look like they grew on another planet.

The island’s vines are trained into low baskets called kouloura, which protect the grapes from fierce winds and blowing sand. It sort of looks like giant birds nests are everywhere. I imagine it’s what all the dinosaurs that flew around nests looked like. I can’t remember what that dinosaur is called sorry. Assyrtiko grows in volcanic soils with very little rainfall, producing wines with intense acidity, citrus, salt, and a stony character that feels almost impossible considering the heat around it.

Some vines are extraordinarily old because the island’s sandy volcanic soils helped protect them from phylloxera. These vineyards have survived a lot over many many years.

Now yields are falling, drought is becoming more severe, and maintaining vineyards competes with the enormous financial pressure of tourism and development. Farming old vines by hand is expensive and selling land for hotels can be far more profitable than continuing to wrestle grapes from volcanic dust.

Assyrtiko can grow elsewhere though, it’s already been planted in mainland Greece and in other countries. Santorini Assyrtiko is a more specific thing. It comes from those winds, those soils, those old root systems, that training method, and that island. Moving the grape preserves the variety, but it doesn’t automatically preserve the wine.

The Grapes May Travel, but Their Homes Can’t

Climate discussions often focus on whether a grape variety will survive.

Most major wine grapes can be propagated and planted somewhere else. Pinot Noir grows from France to Oregon, New Zealand, Germany, California, Australia, and beyond. Riesling has homes in Germany, Austria, France, Australia, the United States, and Canada.

The grape itself may live on, but what can disappear is its relationship with the place that shaped it.

A grape planted in a new country can make excellent wine, but it won’t recreate the same soil, elevation, weather patterns, vineyard culture, local food, farming knowledge, and generations of trial and error. A few varieties feel especially tied to vulnerable landscapes.

Trousseau

Trousseau is one of the Jura’s distinctive red grapes. It can produce pale, savory wines with red fruit, spice, earth, and a slightly wild personality that makes wine people immediately start bothering everyone else at the table. “Come on, you have to try this.” - eye roll.

It’s sensitive to site and ripeness though. Too little heat can leave it lean and green and too much can push it toward heavier fruit and alcohol. Goldi-locks in the fleshy grape form.

The Jura is already dealing with frost, hail, heat, and unstable yields. Trousseau could continue growing there, but maintaining its traditional balance could become increasingly difficult.

Assyrtiko

Assyrtiko holds acidity with almost suspicious determination, which gives it an advantage in warm climates.

Even so, Santorini’s old vineyards face drought, low yields, rising costs, and pressure from development. The grape may thrive in new regions while the island vineyards that made it famous continue shrinking. They’re already being planted all over the world in regions that need white grapes that can do well in drought-like conditions, because they’ve evolved in one.

That would be survival, but it would still be a loss. These wines are intensely mineral and honestly so special. I always order them on wine menus when I see them, my husband, Zakary Edington, absolutely adores them.

Zibibbo

Zibibbo, also known as Muscat of Alexandria, grows on Pantelleria between Sicily and Tunisia. If you’ve never heard of it before, don’t feel bad.

The island’s vines are traditionally planted in hollows that protect them from wind and help preserve precious moisture. The farming method is so closely tied to the landscape that it has been recognized by UNESCO.

The wines can smell like orange blossom, apricot, herbs, citrus peel, and warm stone. Passito di Pantelleria concentrates those grapes into one of the Mediterranean’s great sweet wines. God, these are special wines. If you’ve never had one before, I’d encourage you to seek one out.

Increasing heat, drought, and the enormous labor required to farm the island make that tradition harder to continue.

Pedro Ximénez

Pedro Ximénez creates some of the darkest, richest sweet wines in the world. If you’ve ever had a Sherry, chances are, you’ve tried this grape and just didn’t know it.

The grapes are traditionally dried after harvest, concentrating their sugars until they become intensely sweet and raisined. Southern Spain already has plenty of sun for this process. Rising temperatures and worsening drought add stress long before the grapes reach the drying mats.

Growers are exploring cooler sites, earlier harvests, improved water management, and other ways to preserve the style. The wine may continue, but producing balance alongside that much natural sugar becomes more challenging as the starting fruit grows riper.

Pinot Meunier

Pinot Meunier (or just Meunier depending on who you ask) has spent a long time being introduced as Champagne’s third grape, which feels a little unfair considering how important it is.

It buds later than Pinot Noir and can handle some cooler conditions well, making it valuable in frost-prone areas. It brings red fruit, floral character, generosity, and early approachability to blends.

Changing frost patterns, warmer summers, and disease pressure are reshaping how all three major Champagne grapes perform. Meunier still has strengths, but growers can no longer assume that the sites and varieties that worked for previous generations will behave the same way for the next one. This is one of my favorite grapes of all time. If you can, find yourself a bottle of Mousse Fils Champagne, and you’ll find out why.

Entire Wine Styles Are Becoming Harder to Make

A grape variety can move around the world, but a weather event can’t. Some wine styles depend on a very specific moment arriving naturally, and climate change is making those moments less reliable.

True ice wine requires ripe grapes to freeze naturally while they’re still hanging on the vine. Growers wait for temperatures to drop low enough, then harvest and press the frozen fruit. The water remains trapped as ice while a tiny amount of intensely concentrated juice comes out. It’s beautiful, expensive, risky, and completely dependent on winter cooperating.

In parts of Germany and Canada, the required freezes arrive less consistently. Producers may leave grapes hanging for weeks only to lose them to rot, birds, rain, or a winter that never becomes cold enough. Some years simply don’t produce ice wine anymore.

Sauternes and Tokaji rely on Botrytis cinerea, the fungus responsible for noble rot. Calling fungus “noble” already tells you how strange wine is, but I go into detail about this here. The best botrytized wines need alternating moisture and warmth. Mist or humidity encourages the fungus, then dry conditions keep it from becoming ordinary destructive rot. The grapes shrivel, concentrating sugar, acidity, and flavor.

When the weather sequence changes, noble rot can fail to develop or arrive in an uneven, difficult form. The result are sometimes lower yields, fewer selections, and years when producers make very little of their flagship sweet wine.

Then, there’s also the late-harvest style that ask healthy grapes to remain on the vine long after normal picking. That extra time can concentrate flavor and sugar. It can also expose the fruit to rain, pests, disease, heat, and every bird in the general area. Warmer conditions can sometimes raise sugar quickly without creating the long, slow flavor development these wines need. The grapes become sweet, but sweetness alone doesn’t make a great dessert wine. Acidity is what keeps all that sugar alive, and without it, a beautiful golden wine can start feeling like syrup with a nice label.

What I’m Tasting as a Sommelier

It’s worth saying that climate change doesn’t make every wine taste worse, because wine conversations can become dramatic very quickly, especially when sommeliers get involved and someone has opened an old bottle of Burgundy.

Warmer years can bring ripe fruit, softer tannins, and more generous textures. Regions that once struggled to ripen grapes may now produce excellent wine more consistently. England’s sparkling wine industry has benefited from conditions that would have seemed unlikely several decades ago.

The issue is more about consistency and identity. A wine historically known for low alcohol and sharp acidity may become fuller and riper. A region known for delicate aromas may start producing wines with darker fruit and more weight. Producers could need to acidify, reduce alcohol, change varieties, or harvest at times that would have seemed absurd to their grandparents.

I notice it most in balance.

A wine can have plenty of flavor and still feel as though one part arrived before the others. There’s sugar without enough acidity, alcohol without enough structure, ripeness without the aromatic detail that usually makes the grape recognizable.

Then there are wines that remain delicious but taste different from the style associated with the label.

Wine’s most delicate aromas can be especially vulnerable. Riesling traditionally carry lime, green apple, white flowers, peach, apricot, or herbs. Gewürztraminer can smell like rose petals, lychee, ginger, citrus peel, and an extremely perfumed relative arriving at a wedding with several opinions to share. Those aromas develop through complicated chemical processes inside the grape. Heat, sun exposure, water stress, and rapid ripening can change them.

Sometimes the fruit becomes broader and more tropical or the floral details fade. Higher alcohol can make everything smell louder while the smaller aromas become harder to find.

I don’t need every wine to taste polished and powerful, sometimes I want the strange one that smells like lime peel, rocks, flowers, and a tiny bit of anxiety.

Savor Before It Changes

Wine Folly: Magnum Edition

A useful way to learn the major grapes, regions, flavors, and wine styles you may encounter. I own plenty of wine books, obviously, because apparently one person needs an entire section of the house devoted to information about fermented grapes.

French Grape Variety Map Poster

A beautiful map of French grape varieties and where they grow. It’s written in French, which somehow makes it feel even more official hanging on the wall.

The Wines May Survive…Their Old Selves Might Not.

I don’t think wine is disappearing, people love it too much. There’s too much history, money, knowledge, pleasure, and stubborn energy invested in keeping vineyards alive.

Certain versions of wine may disappear, though. It might soon be the end of a feather-light Mosel Riesling with piercing acidity or a naturally frozen ice wine harvested during a brutal winter morning. An old-vine Assyrtiko grown in a basket of volcanic soil above the Aegean will become harder to find in the future, alongside a delicate Pinot Noir from a vineyard that now ripens two weeks earlier than it did when the current winemaker was a child.

The bottles will still carry familiar names while tasting increasingly unfamiliar, but the thing is…wine has always changed. Grapes mutate, regions evolve, and styles fall out of fashion and later return wearing nicer labels. Growers adapt because they always have.

Wine is climate, agriculture, labor, culture, science, history, and luck somehow squeezed into 750 milliliters, and that feels worth paying attention to while it’s still in front of us.

If you or someone you know is traveling through Europe on a river cruise, check out my new website Cruising with Wine. It has guides for anyone who is traveling with suggestions for local food, pairings for said local food, wineries to visit on your short stops, as well as plenty of sommelier tips and tricks.