Lost Grapes: Forgotten Varieties Making a Comeback

Sometimes it feels like the wine market controls us more than we control it. You walk into a shop, scan the shelves, and end up with the same familiar grapes. Not because you’re uninspired, but because that’s what’s there. It can feel like the wine world is choosing for you.

But here’s the truth: every bottle you buy is a vote. Bring a new grape to a dinner, pour it for a friend, and you’re telling growers: we want more of this. Your palate has power.

Wine styles, like fashion, swing in cycles. In the 1990s and early 2000s, big, bold, jammy reds ruled. Robert Parker’s 90+ point seal helped promote that style. Now, as Parker retires, the tide is shifting: whites and rosés are on the rise, and reds are lighter, fresher, more layered.

And with that shift comes one of my favorite trends: the return of forgotten grapes. These are varieties that never fit the high-yield mold. They demanded special soils, like limestone for finesse, sand to keep phylloxera away, or terraces so steep you’d think twice before walking them in new shoes. Once abandoned for being “too much trouble,” they’re now valued for exactly that—their ability to tell the story of where they grow.

Why Grapes Get Forgotten

Ever wonder why some varieties vanish, like treasures buried beneath the soil? The reasons are a cocktail of history, economics, and yes, geology.

One of the biggest culprits was phylloxera, the tiny vine louse that devastated European vineyards in the late 1800s. This stowaway arrived from the United States in shipments of rootstocks, spread relentlessly, and wiped out entire vineyards.

Here’s the twist: phylloxera doesn’t thrive everywhere. It avoids sandy soils, struggles in some high-altitude sites, and fares poorly in certain volcanic terrains. That’s why places like Argentina’s Salta highlands or Armenia’s volcanic slopes stayed phylloxera-free, preserving ancient, ungrafted vines.

For most regions, the destruction meant replanting, and many rare grapes didn’t make the cut. Growers favored hardier, higher-yield varieties that grafted easily onto resistant rootstocks.

Then globalization crowned a handful of “superstar” grapes, Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay, and Pinot Noir, that thrived in fertile, accessible sites. Rocky terraces and wind-swept slopes where rare grapes once flourished lost their appeal. Delicate, low-yield varieties that needed poor soils and constant care simply couldn’t compete.

Between phylloxera, shifting tastes, and geology’s demands, many grapes slipped quietly out of fashion. But they never truly disappeared; they’ve just been waiting for their comeback.

The Comeback: Why Now?

Climate change is pushing winemakers to rethink vineyards. Grapes once dismissed as too rustic now prove perfectly suited to warmer, drier conditions. Assyrtiko from Greece, Listán Prieto from the Canary Islands, Xinomavro from northern Greece, and Vermentino from the Mediterranean coast can shrug off heat, keep acidity, and stay vibrant when others wilt. Even heritage reds like Counoise in the Rhône or Trousseau in Jura are finding new life, often as blending partners that add freshness and complexity.

But it’s not just about the vineyard, it’s about us. We care more than ever where our wines come from, how they’re made, and who’s behind them. For younger drinkers, especially Gen Z, that story can matter as much as price or taste. They want to know whose hands pruned the vines, what the soil feels like, and why someone fought to save a grape from extinction.

Small-batch producers thrive in this climate. They coax life from rocky terraces, sunburnt slopes, and sandy plots big wineries wouldn’t touch, sometimes under extraordinary conditions.

In Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley, Château Musar has been harvested through decades of conflict, pickers working within earshot of shelling. In Armenia, recent vintages were brought in while artillery echoed from nearby borders. In Georgia during unrest, and in Bosnia and Herzegovina during the 1990s war, vintages were salvaged against the odds.

These wines don’t just carry terroir, they carry resilience. When you pour them, you taste not only the year’s weather and geology, but the courage of those who made them.

How Forgotten Grapes Survived (Against All Odds)

Some grapes disappeared quietly; others clung to life in stubborn corners, saved by those who refused to let go.

Take Piedmont’s Timorasso. By the 1980s, this white grape was almost gone. One grower, Walter Massa, kept his old vines, replanting and experimenting. By the 1990s, his mineral-driven, age-worthy whites proved Timorasso could shine again.

In Chile’s Maule Valley, the humble País grape sprawled untended, many vines over a century old in decomposed granite soils. In the 2000s, winemaker Luis Antonio Torres—nicknamed El Mago—revived these plots, producing vibrant reds that linked modern Chile to its colonial past.

And then there are the grape guardians. Small, passionate groups treating viticulture like archaeology. Italy’s G.R.A.S.P.O. found Saccola hanging on at 700 meters in Lessinia. In France’s Cévennes, Fruits Oubliés Réseaux and Mémoire de la Vigne replant hybrids resistant to drought, frost, and even phylloxera. In Switzerland, Agroscope develops native, disease-resistant grapes like Gamaret and Garanoir, preserving heritage while reducing pesticides.

Different paths, same result: grapes once a breath from extinction are back in the glass. Proof that survival is as much about passion as terroir.

Why You Should Drink Them Now

Here’s the secret: many of these “forgotten” grapes, despite their demands in the vineyard, often cost less than their celebrity counterparts. Without marketing hype or supermarket shelf space, they remain under the radar.

That means you can taste something rare, rooted in centuries of history, for the price of an ordinary Chardonnay.

And these stories aren’t just from faraway hillsides, they’re happening here in the U.S., too. Across all 50 states, growers are planting unusual, heritage, and experimental grapes, reviving traditions and creating new ones. Through my Pour Across America wine club, I share some of these American comeback stories, one state at a time.

So next time you see a label you don’t recognize, take the leap. Bring it to dinner, open it with friends, and tell its story. Every time we choose one of these bottles, we’re not just drinking wine—we’re helping write the next chapter in its survival.

What’s your favorite grape comeback story?