“Where there’s the vine there’s civilization…”

—Hubert de Montille of Volnay, Burgundy, in Mondovino

In the 2004 documentary Mondovino, filmmaker Jonathan Nossiter aligns himself, and not subtly, with the European preference for the winemaker as a facilitator of the grapes, whose primary job is to express the uniqueness of the vineyard. This premise stands in direct opposition to the New World approach that places the personality of the winemaker as the moving force behind the character of a wine. Nossiter contrasts the passionate, independent winemaker, primarily elderly French men, made all the more sympathetic because of their quirky personalities, with slick wine moguls such as (in case you have not yet guessed) Robert Mondavi and sons—the Mondovinos themselves.

Rosenblum Cellars, a pioneer in a new model of winemaking.

Mondovino delivers an ominous message with cynical humor: The globalization of wine, which causes a looming threat to the small, family-operated winery, also signals an end to the stylistic diversity and cultural uniqueness that so intrigues wine lovers. Some of the independent producers interviewed in the film assesses the situation in the most dire terms, implying that international-styled wines are devoid of character and thus without soul. Are we spiraling towards the homogenization of wine to a day when Bordeaux will be indistinguishable from California cabernet?

The term “flying winemaker” is well-employed these days, as winemakers from both hemispheres are able to participate in two harvests each year by jumping on a plane to a different climate zone. For this reason, traditional wine-producing regions like France and Italy are no longer isolated from New World methods and technologies. Globalization is bound to affect the style of the wine regardless of where the grapes are planted, because the winemakers themselves are changing how wine is made.

Recently, I made a list of all the West Coast wines that I could find on retail shelves labeled “grown, produced, and bottled by.” After browsing through 480 wines from California, Oregon, and Washington, I managed to identify about two dozen estate-grown wines, or wines which are grown, fermented, and bottled by the same people. Perhaps in response to these meager numbers, many trade professionals, myself included, inevitably tout these wines as exceptional. The underlying assumption is that winemakers who double as grape growers often produce wines of a finer ilk because they see the entire process through from start to finish.

Romanticized notions about estate-grown wines undoubtedly help to sell wine, but if the label were to reveal that the “estate” extends 5,000 acres, would that dispel the fuzzy feelings of intimacy?

In contrast to the fragmented vineyards of Burgundy—where it is not uncommon for a single producer to own just a few rows of vines—stands the sprawling empire of the Gallo Family Winery headquartered in Modesto, California. Gallo is a privately owned, family-run business that happens to be the largest wine producer in the US, selling 70 million cases of wine yearly. Although Gallo wines are not completely estate-grown, the company does own more than 5,000 acres of California vineyards. With estimated annual sales of $3.5 billion, Gallo represents the ultimate perversion of the term “homegrown.”

In contrast to the single vineyard wines of Barolo or Burgundy, in which each slope on the vineyard carries a distinct classification and produces a unique wine, the Gallo mission is to make quality wines from the “best” available grapes. On its Web site, Gallo espouses a dedication to wholesome viticultural practices: It’s no secret that healthy vines grow the best grapes, and ultimately make the best-tasting wines.

This grape-growing formula bodes well for a notoriously secretive distribution giant, with 60 brands in some 90 countries. A smattering of Gallo’s premium labels include: Frei Bros., MacMurray Ranch, Louis M. Martini, Rancho Zabaco, DaVinci and Ecco Domani (Italy), Red Bicyclette (France), Martin Cõdax (Spain), Sebeka (South Africa), Don Miguel Gascón (Argentina)—and on and on.

Winemaker Gina Gallo, the granddaughter of Julio, has been vocal about the company’s desire to overcome their jug wine image and establish a stake in the premium wine market. In a recent interview, Gallo stated her pragmatic vision: “I think that being able to touch more people with your family wines is a greater value than making the most iconic wine that only three people in the world can have.”

While not exactly an inspiring statement, there is an egalitarian ring to this straightforward approach and Gallo certainly touches many consumers: Gallo makes one out of five glasses of wine drunk in America.

A convincing model for the future of the world’s wine industry, Gallo is not so much a winery as a wine production facility. With the number of small estates dwindling and yet no shortage of good wine, has the European preference for the winemaker who sees the process through from vine to bottle become outdated? Worldwide, prohibitive land prices insure that many new winemakers find themselves living, not unhappily, a nomad’s existence. In California, some of the most exciting wines are being made by individuals moonlighting from their day jobs.

In 1987, veterinarian Kent Rosenblum pioneered the idea of the urban winemaker by establishing his wine production in an old warehouse on the abandoned Alameda Naval Air Base. In recent years, Rosenblum has been joined by other, mostly landless producers in and around Oakland to form a loosely knit community known as the East Bay Vintners. Among these small producers are Dashe Cellars, A Donkey and Goat, Broc Cellars, Edmunds St. John, Blacksmith, and JC Cellars (run by Jeff Cohn, who recently gave up his position as winemaker at Rosenblum to focus on his own label).

Currently with a yearly production of some 160,000 cases, Rosenblum owns not one single vineyard but sources his grapes from more than 80 different growers. “Our model is to let growers grow,” he says, “and let the winemakers make the wine.”

Making wine on the fringes of urban environments may be the most exciting and subversive trend to date in the wine industry. Another group, nicknamed the Lompoc Wine Ghetto, banded together in an industrial warehouse park located on the east side of Lompoc, California. More than two dozen independent winemakers work in a shared production space, specializing in pinot noir and chardonnay grapes from the Santa Rita Hills. Some highly sought-after wines have emerged from this unassuming community, including Seasmoke, Brewer-Clifton, Fiddlehead Cellars, and Flying Goat. Underscoring the camaraderie of the winemakers at the Lompoc Ghetto is this excerpt from The Lompoc Record:

The Fiddlehead label captured the imagination of moviegoers after being featured in the 2004 romantic comedy “Sideways.” [Steve] Clifton said he appreciates the friendly atmosphere of the ghetto, where the winemakers often swap ideas, share equipment and party together. “Here, if you ever wonder what to do with your wine, you can talk to 10 different winemakers and share ideas and make good wine.”

Urban warehouses are buzzing with passionate, young winemakers, sharing ideas and techniques, but more importantly they are also opening their doors to the curious city dweller. In contrast to the revered wineries of Napa Valley, where visually imposing visitor centers are built as architectural monuments, the joint Dashe/JC facility has set a public tasting room in the center of the production area, surrounded by stainless steel equipment and barrels of aging wine. Volunteers during crush (the hectic production time when all the grapes arrive from the vineyards) are also plentiful, as nearby residents from Oakland and San Francisco regard these wine projects as an integral part of their communities.

However one might lament the rarity of estate-grown wines, there is reason to hope that the destiny of wine is not to become a characterless beverage. The revolutionary scene occurring in the backstreet warehouses of Oakland and Lompoc seems bent on stripping away the snobbish quality of wine appreciation. In addition to fostering an urban wine culture, these nomadic winemaking communities are deeply invested in making the best wines possible from local fruit. Perhaps the elusive expression of the vineyard is simply shifting hands from the solitary vintner to the communal winery. Grand Cru Oakland, anyone?

Read more from Paula Paradise in Artvoice's Wining & Dining section.