The Quiet Comeback of Forgotten Wine Grapes

A century ago, the wine world grew thousands of named grape varieties. Today, about 80 percent of the wine sold globally comes from just twenty of them. The other 9,800 are not extinct, but most of them are quiet. A small group of winemakers, sommeliers, and importers has spent the last fifteen years trying to bring some of them back.

What counts as forgotten

A "forgotten" grape isn't necessarily rare in the absolute sense. It's a grape that was widely planted in its home region a hundred years ago, then nearly disappeared during the twentieth century, and is now being replanted by a small number of producers who think it has something to offer.

The 1900s were brutal for grape diversity. Phylloxera killed off entire regional plantings in the late 1800s. The world wars disrupted vineyard management for decades. The post-war shift to industrial agriculture rewarded a small set of high-yield, easy-to-sell varieties. By the 1980s, regional grapes that had defined wine culture for centuries were down to a few hectares.

Then something quiet happened. A small group of producers, many of them inheriting family vineyards, decided that the local grape was worth the effort. They started bottling it. Sommeliers in cities far away started pouring it. By the mid-2010s, "indigenous" had become a recognizable wine-list category.

Why some grapes vanish

The forgotten grapes share a common story. They were difficult — to grow, to ferment, to sell. They ripened unevenly. They didn't make the kind of soft, fruit-forward wine that supermarkets preferred. They were specific to a single hillside or a single climate, which made them impossible to scale.

These are also the qualities that make them interesting now. A grape that only works on one hillside is, by definition, a wine you cannot get anywhere else. In a market where the top twenty varieties are available from every wine-producing country on earth, specificity has become valuable in a way it wasn't thirty years ago.

The quiet Renaissance

The Renaissance has three engines, each operating quietly.

The first is the producers. A small number of estates — often run by the second or third generation — have made the deliberate choice to plant or replant a regional grape. Pecorino in Abruzzo. Nerello Mascalese on Mount Etna. Furmint in Tokaj outside the dessert-wine tradition. Voskehat in Armenia. Saperavi in Georgia. None of these grapes are new. All of them are being treated as new.

The second is the importers. A handful of small US importers, the ones who've built their reputations on telling specific stories, have made forgotten grapes their identity. They tour the regions, find the one estate doing something interesting with a forgotten variety, and bring it into the US market with the producer's story attached. The importer is the bridge between the hillside and the wine list.

The third is the sommelier. A guest at a serious restaurant in New York or San Francisco in 2026 is more likely than ever to be poured something from a grape they cannot pronounce. The sommelier has decided that introducing a guest to a forgotten variety is a more interesting move than recommending a tenth Sancerre.

"A grape that only works on one hillside is, by definition, a wine you cannot get anywhere else."

Five forgotten grapes worth seeking out

If you've never tasted these, your local independent wine shop probably stocks at least three of them.

Pecorino. A white from Abruzzo and Marche, almost extinct in the 1980s, now widely replanted. Mineral, slightly herbal, salty. Excellent with seafood. Capable of aging better than most people expect.

Nerello Mascalese. The red grape of Mount Etna in Sicily. Sometimes called the Burgundy of southern Italy because of its lightness and elegance, despite growing in volcanic soil at high altitude. The 2010s revival put it on every serious wine list in America.

Vermentino Nero. A black-skinned mutation of the more famous white Vermentino. Almost no one grows it. The producers who do make a serious, slightly rustic red unlike anything else from Italy.

Voskehat. The native white grape of Armenia, sometimes called "the queen of grapes" in the local language. Stone fruit, dried herbs, a slightly dusty texture. Armenia's small but ancient wine industry is built around it.

Susumaniello. From Puglia in southern Italy. The name translates roughly as "little donkey," because the vines were historically so productive they had to be loaded onto donkeys. Now produced in small quantities by a handful of estates. Deep, juicy, savory.

The festival circuit that champions them

Annual events like the Festival of Forgotten Grapes and similar regional gatherings have become the meeting point for this part of the industry. Importers pour. Producers fly in. Sommeliers from major cities show up to scout. The format is small, the wines are unusual, and the conversations are the kind you cannot have at the major festivals where everyone is pouring Chardonnay. Browse the partners directory and you'll find a growing list of the producers and importers building the category.

If you're a WineLover who has tasted most of the standard varieties and wants the next set of doors to open, the forgotten-grape circuit is where to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Where ShareVino fits

ShareVino has built profiles for a growing list of producers working with indigenous and forgotten grape varieties — across Italy, Spain, Greece, Armenia, Georgia, and the US. The platform makes it easy for WineLovers to discover, save, and follow producers whose grapes don't have the name recognition of Chardonnay or Cabernet. For the importers and event organizers championing these wines, our digital wine list and event tools mean a forgotten grape can find its way to a curious WineLover without getting lost in a stack of tech sheets.

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