A vintage fall: A winery and its oak tree

The towering oak tree shades a makeshift classroom. My aunt and I sit at a faded picnic table, protected from the warm sun.

Morgan Creek Vineyards Owner Georg Marti stands between us and about 40 rows of grapevines planted along a small, sunny slope that bottoms out at Morgan Creek. Marti gestures to the vines and says, with a smile, "That's 2 percent of the Minnesota wine industry, right before your eyes."

His statement reveals two key pieces of information. Yes, there is a Minnesota wine industry. And no, it isn't exactly large. Yet.

I'd been collecting information on Minnesota vineyards ever since I heard about the award-winning French grapes of Alexis Bailly in Hastings, the state's oldest working vineyard. I'm not talking about raspberry and rhubarb wines here -- I mean honest-to-goodness reds and whites, capable of holding their own in the national or even worldwide viticultural scene.

At the time, I found a couple of serious grape growers. But during the past few years, Minnesota's commercial vineyards grew past what I could count on one hand. I came to Morgan Creek to get a handle on the burgeoning Minnesota wine scene.

The first thing that intrigued me at Morgan Creek was the oak tree. It is absolutely huge and absolutely beautiful. It was the first thing that intrigued Georg and Paula Marti, too. The oak and the scenic Morgan Creek Valley surrounding it persuaded the Martis to buy this 10-acre plot.

Marti relates the story during the 40-minute vineyard tour, half of which is a chat session under the oak. Two Airedales, engaged in wildlife management and welcoming duties, meander about while Marti tells about leaving the family business -- Schell's brewery in New Ulm. After he purchased this land, though, he happened back into fermentation when a friend commented that his sloping acreage along Morgan Creek might be a good place to grow grapes.

Getting around this annoyance has been on the to-do list of prospective Minnesota vintners since the early 1900s. By crossing wild Minnesota grapes with traditional European wine grapes, the University of Minnesota's Horticulture Research Center unveiled its first cold-hardy hybrids in the 1940s. Thanks to lobbying by the Minnesota Grape Growers' Association (MGGA), university researchers got the funding to get down to business again in 1982.

Their first grape, the Frontenac, has proved itself in working state vineyards thus far. More varieties are on their way.

With a less needy grape, Minnesota vineyards are easier to own. Another plus: The wines produced with them hold a distinct flavor. MGGA Secretary John Marshall puts it like this: "These hybrids strive for a California or European flavor, but you can be sure the wines will be distinctive. They will not be a carbon copy of California wines."

Marti says he dreams of the day when the Minnesota River Valley is dotted with vineyards. Ten years, he predicts, and his dream will be reality. He's already found a catchy moniker.

"We'll be known as the Napa of the North," he said.

Two rooms hold the entire operation. We start in the winemaking side, where grapes enter as grapes and leave as bottled wine with a hand-affixed label. In the other room we browse the gift shop after Adam talks us through sips of the vineyard's available wines.

"Taste depends on the area in which the grapes are grown, the way they're processed and the season," he reminds us, echoing his father's comments.

The running theme hits home, and wine in Minnesota makes perfect sense. Especially here, where the earth of the Morgan Creek Valley and the seasons boldly indicated by the rustling old oak produce wines that are reflections of both.

As Georg Marti puts it, they have "a taste of Minnesota in them."

Napa it's not. But isn't that the beauty?