Walking among the brown vines of Westport Rivers Winery on a sunny, cool day in late March, vineyard manager Rob Russell, AET ’85, offers a chuckle at news that an impending storm is threatening to dump as much as a foot of snow in central Massachusetts.
It’s not the reaction one might expect of someone whose livelihood depends on the weather. But Russell knows that, as usual, his vineyard will see little if any of the snow that typically blankets the rest of the state. That’s the key to growing grapes in Massachusetts’ extreme climate: growing them in a place in Massachusetts where climate extremes don’t exist.
“You don’t get those wild fluctuations here,” says Russell of Westport, which lies about 10 miles southwest of New Bedford. “If it’s, say, 70 degrees in Worcester, it’s 45 degrees here. And then when it plummets down to negative ten degrees there, it might be five degrees here.”
It is precisely this kind of stable, maritime climate that Russell’s parents sought when they decided to start a local winery. After their native Dighton, Mass., proved too frigid, they purchased a centuries-old potato and dairy farm in Westport in 1982 and sent Russell off to learn the science of farming grapes at a family friend’s vineyard on Long Island. He returned in 1986 and immediately set about helping to rebuild farmhouses and planting acre after acre of vines, many of which are still producing grapes today.
While the Westport climate can sustain the grapes, there are limitations. They can’t grow the warm-weather grapes that produce, say, a typical California sauvignon blanc or zinfandel. Instead, Westport concentrates on three main varietals whose grapes can take the cold: chardonnay, pinot noir, and Riesling. But perhaps Westport’s most famed product is their bubbly.
“Sparkling wine was originally our contingency plan,” says Russell. “Now it makes up more than half our production.”
It’s a niche that has drawn raves everywhere from the Wall Street Journal to the Daily Telegraph (UK). But even with all the acclaim, convincing people to even try a Massachusetts wine is the toughest part of Russell’s job—not pruning 90,000 vines in the off -season or maintaining what is basically a 200-acre factory without walls.
“It’s a tough row to hoe,” says Russell. “But we’ve been dispelling that myth for twenty-five years.”
This summer, they’ll have a bigger stage on which to make their case. A new state law went into effect in January that allows farmer wineries like Westport Rivers to sell their goods at local farmers’ markets alongside regional fruits and vegetables growers. Even though 90 percent of their wine is purchased in Massachusetts, Russell says local wineries still haven’t been able to tap into “the whole buy-local movement.” But he figures a presence at the markets—naturally visited by advocates of native products—will give Westport Rivers a chance to convert the nonbelievers, one glass at a time.
—Dan Morrell