Napa Valley’s DIY grape growers

On my last two visits to Napa Valley, I’ve deliberately spent time with a family that represents the antithesis of that viticultural Eden’s glamorous image: the MacDonalds in 2023 and the Morisolis in 2024. Both prune the vines themselves. They drive (and mend) the tractors. And, to balance the books, they sell most of their fruit to prestigious names and make wine from only a minority of their grapes.

But brothers Graeme and Alex MacDonald have already established such a following for their rich-but-fresh MacDonald Cabernet that their 1,600 regular customers buy every vintage, and they have 10,000 others on their waiting list.

The reason their wine is so good is not just because Graeme nurtures every vine himself, but because the vineyard is incredibly well-sited on Oakville benchland, slap bang next to Robert Mondavi’s To Kalon vineyard, whose grapes are the most expensive in the entire Napa Valley. To access the modest ranch house next to the vines where he and his wife raised their young daughters, you have to cross a creek that Graeme, who has become one of Napa Valley’s best-informed historians, has managed to have registered as To Kalon Creek. He could well argue that their land was actually part of the original late-19th-century To Kalon vineyard. But Robert Mondavi Winery is now owned by the giant Constellation Brands, and the MacDonald brothers could hardly afford the litigation that use of the To Kalon name for wine has involved over the years, as it has become a fiercely contested trademark.

The MacDonald family grew vines almost by accident. In 1954 the brothers’ great-grandfather found his ideal retirement home in the valley, but the vendor insisted it came with 30 acres of land. Robert Mondavi, California’s most famous vintner, was still at his old family firm Charles Krug at the time and advised the MacDonald family to plant vines on it, originally half white-wine grapes and only half red. Once the vines were producing, it was natural to offer the grapes to Mondavi. When, in 1966, Mondavi left Charles Krug to set up his eponymous winery, he offered $50 more a ton than his brother Peter Mondavi at Charles Krug, so the MacDonalds continued to supply Robert and then his winery with grapes for top Cabernets for more than 60 years — all on the basis of a handshake. Long-standing Mondavi winemaker Genevieve Janssens, a huge admirer of their particular slice of Oakville gravel, has become a mentor to the MacDonald brothers.

Ownership of the MacDonald vineyard passed to the brothers’ mother and two aunts. The sisters were not remotely impressed when, in 2004, Graeme and Alex, who’d grown up not in the valley but in Marin County to the south, came up with the idea of making wine themselves — until they offered to pay full price for the grapes. On Mondavi’s advice, Graeme signed up for the University of California at Davis’s oenology course while interning at a wide range of California wineries. He looks after their 15 acres, while Alex focuses on marketing. They were able to launch their first commercial vintage, all of 92 cases initially, in 2010.

Nowadays they openly admit they cherry-pick the best third of each (organically farmed) crop for their own wine, not least the grapes from the remaining half-acre of the original 1954 plantings. Graeme makes the wines in space borrowed from his friend and fellow winemaker Alex Kongsgaard. The 2019 Cabernet that they opened for me had been released the previous September at $195 a bottle and was an immediate sellout.

The MacDonald family emigrated from Scotland after the defeat of Bonnie Prince Charlie at Culloden in 1746. “Dad would wear a kilt at Christmas,” I was told. They are not at all keen on any association with McDonald’s burgers.

That heartwarming visit was last year. The Morisoli family, who I visited this year, is not dissimilar — just a couple of miles up Highway 29 in Rutherford, also in prime viticultural land on the cooler west side, next to Francis Ford Coppola’s Victorian homestead. Unlike the MacDonalds, the Morisolis are just beginning on the path of winemaking for themselves and are currently bottling only a tiny fraction of the fruit they grow.

Until Christopher Morisoli returned to join his father, Gary, after 12 years in the US army, with stints in Iraq and Afghanistan, the lovingly tended Morisoli vineyard was fully dedicated to supplying Cabernet grapes for the likes of neighbour Beaulieu’s top Georges de Latour bottling. Their fruit has such a reputation that several producers who buy it, including Amici, Elyse and V Sattui, cite Morisoli Vineyard on the label. (Morisoli-Borges is a separate operation run by Gary’s brother.)

Gary is a farmer through and through, and managed several high-profile vineyards in the early 2000s as well as his own. His family has much more land than the MacDonalds: 57 acres, of which 45 are planted with Napa Valley’s most valuable crop, Cabernet Sauvignon. So father and son, who both work in the vineyards, can’t do it all themselves. “We have three full-time workers,” Christopher told me, “but we do all [the] tractor work. My dad is brilliant at vineyards.”

In fact, when fixing up this visit, I had to co-ordinate with their tractor schedule. Gary proudly described his various tractors, one dating from 1934. “They’re older than some of our vines. The old stuff can be fixed, unlike new ones.”

During my tasting, it was clear Gary was itching to get out in the vineyard and more or less professed all the wines tasted the same to him. Morisoli only began making its own wine on Christopher’s return, starting with the 2018 vintage, and he was keen to show me every vintage to date. They have their wines made by Joel Aiken, who was winemaker at Beaulieu for 28 years so knew the Morisoli fruit intimately. “He’s quiet, which fits the vibe here,” observed Gary contentedly.

The oldest Morisoli Cabernet vines date from 1992. They have had to pull out some of them recently thanks to red blotch. Christopher also gave me a tasting of wines made by others from Morisoli fruit and it was clear that some of their clients treasure how ripe they can get their grapes. Aiken’s versions were a bit more restrained, with the 2021 in particular showing the famous local terroir, a surprisingly pleasing earthy aroma known as “Rutherford dust”.

The Morisoli Cabernet is sold, like the MacDonald version and so many other Napa Cabs, via a mailing list which they are currently putting together. When deciding on its price, they felt they shouldn’t undercut those who buy their fruit. The highest price was Amici’s at $195, so their wine is $205 a bottle.

The Morisolis recently restored a Ford Model T in which Gary’s grandfather Plinio, born in the house where we tasted, made his deliveries from the Rutherford general store, which he managed alongside several important vineyards in the valley.

In a bottle of Morisoli wine, you really do have the history of the wine world’s most famous valley. Plus a bit of tractor oil perhaps.

Tasting notes, scores and suggested drink dates on Purple Pages of JancisRobinson.com. International stockists on Wine-searcher.com

Follow @FTMag to find out about our latest stories first and subscribe to our podcast Life and Art wherever you listen