Heritage big part of Latino vintners’ stories
White-dominated, Eurocentric industry presents branding, marketing challenges
Five years ago, Californians began to take notice of Edgar Torres, a boutique vintner in Paso Robles whose Spanish-inspired wines were already earning accolades. But it was Torres’ back story that really piqued people’s interest. At the age of 8, he emigrated from his native Michoacan to the United States with his sister and a friend. He grew up in Cambria and moved to Paso Robles in 2002, where he became a server at Villa Creek Restaurant, a local winemaker hangout where he developed his palate for wine.
Encouraged by several wine producers, Torres ended up working in the industry, starting as a “cellar rat” and eventually landing at Hug Cellars where he worked his way up to assistant winemaker under his mentor, winemaker Augie Hug.
In 2005, he became the first Mexican American vintner in Paso Robles.
But for Torres, his heritage is a bit of a mixed blessing. He stands out in a competitive market — notable for its prestigious Central Coast wines — but he finds himself managing other people’s expectations of what it means to be a Latino winery owner.
Shortly after he was featured in local media as the first “Mexican American winemaker,” a man came into his tasting room with a camera. “Hey, you’re the Mexicano,” the visitor said, before snapping a photo and leaving. He didn’t try the wine; he just drove away.
Sometimes Torres, 42, gets the feeling that his sleek tasting room may not meet people’s expectations of what it means to be a Latino winemaker.
“I feel like there is this stereotype. People think, ‘Oh, man, we are going to be in there, and this fool is going to be playing ‘Chente’ and there is going to be a piñata,’ ” Torres said, referring to legendary Mexican singer Vicente Fernandez.
“I grew up with so many influences. I grew up with surfer, skater kids in Cambria,” he said. There’s nothing wrong with “Chente” and piñatas, he added, but his identity has been forged by countless experiences.
California is home to an estimated 45 Latino-owned wineries. They make up only a fraction of the state’s 4,500 producers, but their numbers are growing, said Alex Saragoza, who is writing a book on the rise of Mexican winemakers in the United States. Naturally, those winemakers hope to capture some of the expanding Latino market, as well as a bigger share of the general market. (In 2013, Latinos consumed an estimated 46.6 million cases of wine in the U.S.)
But that hope requires them to make complicated decisions about how they market and brand their wine in a white-dominated industry that’s long been associated with Eurocentric refinement.
These decisions take on a greater poignancy in a state where the industry thrives
on fruit picked by Latino farmworkers, whose stories historically have been relegated to scraps of oral history.
Every Latino vintner has their own story of how they made it. Some more established businesses — Ceja Vineyards, Robledo Family Winery and Maldonado Vineyards — were born in the fields of Napa and Sonoma counties. They’re run by the children and grandchildren of immigrants who labored in the vineyards, some as part of the bracero program, which brought millions of Mexican agricultural guest workers to the U.S. between 1942 and 1964.
Others, like Torres, arrived in this country without legal status, and worked in hospitality, where they were fell in love with wine and worked their way up from the cellar.
For many of these vintners, their heritage is front and center and intimately intertwined with their brand with names like “Los Braceros” or “El Rey.” For others, who want consumers to solely focus on quality, heritage comes second.
At Top, a winery in Paso Robles, Elena Martinez and Stanley Barrios make a small collection of Rhone varietal wines, purchasing grapes from some of the most prestigious vineyards in the region. In 2014, they made their first eight barrels of wine — about 200 cases. In 2021, they produced about 3,800 cases of wine. Their 2019 Poise, a Roussanne, is listed on the menu of the French Laundry for $100 a bottle.
Martinez, 39, and Barrios, 40, are the children of Latin American immigrants who were born and raised in the LA area.
But that’s not mentioned on their bottles or in their tasting room. A bottle of wine at Top, named after the spinning toy that both owners played with as children, can be pricey. Their 2019 Rosé of Grenache is $65. Nearly all their wine is sold exclusively to wine club members, most of whom are non-Latino.
“We don’t think quality has a race or gender,” Martinez said. “We’ve worked so hard at being an organization that is reputable for quality and hospitality, and a bonus happens to be that we are Latino.”
While the couple’s Latinidad isn’t at the forefront, Martinez said, it does inform their entrepreneurial spirit. Launching their business was a way of telling their parents, “Thank you for your struggles.”
Latino winemakers juggle a host of issues. All of them worry about how to get their wine to stand out in an oversaturated market. Others are concerned with how to make the wine world more welcoming to Latinos. Some agitate to provide better work conditions for the skilled farmworkers who tend the grapes or work in the cellars, just as their grandparents once did.
On a recent afternoon, at the Mondavi Farmworker Center in Napa, most of the Mexican farmworkers eating pozole in the dining hall sounded surprised to hear that some of the region’s winery owners are of Mexican heritage.
“Really?” Eulogio Lopez responded. The 35-year-old from Oaxaca works for a vineyard management company in Napa, making $19.50 an hour.
He said he doesn’t know who owns the vineyards. Most of his interactions are
with the mayordomos, who are charge of the crews. Some of them treat him well; others, not so much. Most are Latinos, he said.
That doesn’t come as a surprise to Gabriela Fernandez, 29, a Napa native who created and hosts the Big Sip podcast, which highlights people of color in wine, food, health, tech and the arts. It’s incumbent on all vintners — regardless of ethnicity — to ensure their farmworkers are treated well, she said. But Latino winery owners and vintners, she says, carry a greater responsibility because of the shared experiences dealing with inequities.
“To be a Latino, Hispano or someone who identifies within that scope, and directly place burdens and microaggressions to people of your same cultural identity — it’s gross,” she said.
Manny Gonzalez worked in Latino marketing in the wine and spirits industry for 17 years and says the wine category in the U.S. “is still under development with the Latino consumer. But we know that they are willing to spend dollars on super-premium quality products.”
The evolution of premium tequila makes for a good comparison, Gonzalez said. Twenty-five years ago, tequila was dominated by Cuervo Gold — “known as the quickest way to get drunk.” Now the bestselling tequila brands are of premium quality, and data show Latinos are willing to spend top dollar.
“I think we’ll get there with wine,” Gonzalez said. “We’re going to see that same evolution in the U.S., but it doesn’t happen overnight.”