I love Napa Valley. But over the last few years, I’ve come to the conclusion that as an enterprise, taken as a whole, it grew too big for its britches on inertia, a stark misunderstanding of the limits of branding and luxury markets, but above all, hubris.
It wasn’t always this way, of course. In 1960, there were no more than 25 operating wineries, with only about 15 commercially-branded labels. Today the Napa Valley Vintners counts 535 member, and most of them, from micro- to “garage”-sized and up are thrilled to offer nearly identical, high-alcohol, highly-oaked, and high-priced Cabernet Sauvignons. So, for an “everyman’s” tasting, visitors will shell out an average $80, while a premium tasting sets them back around $125, with some going to $150-300, according to Wine-Searcher.com. And it’s gotten a lot more challenging, across a finite set of visitors that can afford to visit Napa in the first place, to get them to spring for a cookie-cutter experience, much less to entice them to lug a $1500 case of wine back to their cars or limos.
The challenge isn’t one that current, conventional wisdom suggests can be overcome easily, and for many Napa labels it can’t be overcome at all, not any more. Now, conventional wisdom will cite a lot of reasons not unique to Napa. There’s the very real neo-prohibitionism sweeping the western world, asserting that any consumption of alcohol is as bad or worse for human health than smoking cigarettes. Can’t leave aside the inflation that’s hitting discretionary spending hard, especially fine dining, long a Napa Valley stalwart. And the fact that young, would-be wine drinkers find hard seltzers, ready-to-drink cocktails, and THC-infused beverages more to their liking, and that’s not counting low- and dealcoholized beverages growing in popularity.
No, Napa’s dilemma was created by its success. And the problems go far beyond the tasting rooms, over-hyped points ratings, and faux-allocation systems that can no longer create a demand for wines fewer people want. There are only so many times a winery can tell the same story–“visionary, authentic, earnest, family-oriented, terroir-driven, best-fruit-ever, handcrafted”–to the same set of visitors, when within one mile there are 100 more wineries telling it. And according to someone far better to opine on this than I, many of those wineries are barely breaking even; others are not, held afloat only by their founders’ or owners’ thinning wallets. Still others are doggedly resisting, but the Napa reaper is coming for them, too. And at least 100,000 reasons support this: industry reporting for the 2025 California harvest estimated that at least 100,000 tons of wine grapes were left unharvested, with some analysts placing the figure closer to 400,000 tons. Why? Simple, these beautiful grapes were worth less on the market than the cost to harvest and crush them.
All of this needed a closer look, and finally received it from the most comprehensive, brutal, and insightful analysis I’ve read in 30 years. I still can’t believe my eyes. But I believe it’s true.
I’ve been a big fan and vocal proponent of Napa for almost three decades, and I still am. I began coming to this famous place 26 years ago when living and working in tech PR in San Francisco, often staying overnight and visiting, 113 wineries over many stays. Back then, the lineup of small, self-styled “luxury” wineries was in the upswing, building out costly tasting rooms, winery “Chateaux,” and running multichannel DTC-focused marketing intended to convey–ironically–the same story of exclusiveness as the guys next door and down 29. As for me, I enrolled in classes in winemaking, wine and food pairing, and basic viticulture, at the Culinary Institute of America’s Rudd Wine School in Napa. What a great place! There, every class day, we were treated to gourmet meals prepared by the student chefs studying at the CIA. I also took two extended series of wine marketing classes at UC Davis, each time making the pilgrimage back to the famous, and ever-more-expensive, Napa Valley. Lunches at Gott’s Roadside, dinners at Mustard’s Grill or Brix, and long afternoons of quaffing Sauvignon Blancs while taking in breathtaking views on the terrace at Auberge du Soleil. At night I’d head to the Calistoga Inn Restaurant and Brewery. And I rarely failed to visit the restaurant at Etoile, Domain Chandon‘s now-closed restaurant, the only winery in Napa to have an in-house sit-down, and one that earned a Michelin star from 2006 to 2012.
As for my criticism, I was often rebuffed–fair enough; there is always room for debate–and occasionally had a lot of vitriol heaped upon me for daring to spout such heresy about “me-too” wines, indistinguishable from one another, but damn sure distinguished by $150-300+ per bottle price tags. And as much as I love the place, over many years I saw a troubling confluence of events, market changes, and circumstances that reinforced my view, and for the first time in memory, I now see a stunning reckoning, on the record, of Napa’s blinding arrogance: Tell the Truth and Do the Right Thing by one Ted Hall, a self-described “advisor, director, musician, vintner, entrepreneur, and economist, who writes on current topics. His disciplined economic analyses often result in insight beyond conventional narrative.”
I have never read, nor even contemplated, something so shockingly authentic and revolutionary, challenging the very ethos of not only the most famous wine region in the USA, but arguably in the world. Separated by the Mayacamas mountains from the coast and the sprawling, multi-climate and more laid-back Sonoma, Napa rose from obscurity in the 1960’s on the backs of a handful of brave pioneers who (mostly) had more money than wine experience, and really hung together. Today, some appear to be hanging separately. Documented lovingly by James Conaway in Napa: The Story of an American Eden, their stories were and remain inspiring. One such story, of Jack and Jamie Davies of Schramsberg, literally led me to the door of their winery and an appreciation of what I believe is the finest domestic sparkling wine in the USA. But that doesn’t mean they all need to be, or indeed even are, going concerns. Sometimes, even in the rarefied air of “Wine Country,” too much IS too much.
I encourage any and everyone with a interest in the wine business–or just wine in general–to read this Substack post. Meantime, here are the opening paragraphs that set the stage for a remarkably introspective look at a place where it’s clearly all wine, but less and less accompanied by roses.
“The vines line up with military precision. The mountains hold their familiar shape. Visitors glide from lunch to tasting to dinner under the comforting impression that they have entered one of the world’s most successful agricultural theaters: a place where beauty, money, craftsmanship, and prestige have somehow found durable alignment. Almost everything the eye encounters reinforces that belief. The estates look prosperous. The wines are expensive. The hospitality is polished. The language of excellence is everywhere.
And yet the valley is full of wineries that are not really working.
Not failing in the dramatic way outsiders imagine failure. Not shuttered, derelict, or desperate. Quite the opposite. Many are immaculate. Many are serious. Many are owned by intelligent, accomplished people who can easily afford the appearances of success. That is part of what makes the problem so hard for Napa to discuss honestly. The strain is hidden behind capital, aesthetics, and the prestige of the place itself.”
By way of closing, I want to illustrate Napa’s dilemma in a way that food people–who may or may not be wine aficionados as well–can surely relate to. Now, The French Laundry is not a winery, to be sure. But the Yountville spot’s rise and, let’s say, “plateauing,” epitomizes an entire region that clearly left its humble roots behind and doubled-down on its own press. The famous, three Michelin-Star restaurant is increasingly seen by critics and diners as emblematic of Napa Valley’s broader trend toward vulgar exclusivity and embarrassingly high prices. While it retains a legacy of “shaping” modern American fine dining, recent reviews highlight growing dissatisfaction over its $390 tasting menu, rigid pacing, and perceived lack of innovation. Many diners now describe it as overpriced and overhyped, with some calling it “dated” or “a self-reflecting fine-dining theme park.” A 2025 San Francisco Chronicle review echoed this sentiment, noting the restaurant was “no longer worth the splurge,” a view shared by 74% of over 15,000 poll respondents. Even wealthy patrons report feeling underwhelmed, citing forgettable dishes and excessive formality that doesn’t justify the cost.
Anyway, if you love wine, Napa, California, luxury, or any of these, read Tell the Truth and Do the Right Thing.
Cheers.
