There are evenings that remind you why wine is not just about what’s in the glass.
I was recently invited to my dear friend Nikki’s home in Rancho Mirage’s Thunderbird Heights, and if there were ever an Olympic sport for hosting, she’d take gold without breaking a sweat. Nikki divides her time between Rancho Mirage and Fredericksburg, Texas—and she’s fallen hard for the Texas wine scene.
Knowing my love for wine discovery—and perhaps my tendency to chase obscure grape varieties like some people chase vintage handbags—she was eager to introduce me to a few of her favorites.
The setting could not have been more perfect: a relatively cool desert evening (a miracle in itself), a table filled with beautiful food by New Leaf Catering, close friends and sweeping panoramic views of the valley as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. But the real star of the show? The wines.
And yes—I’m just as surprised as you are.
When most people think of American wine regions, Texas doesn’t exactly leap to the front of the line. California, Oregon and Washington, sure. But Texas? After this tasting, I’m here to tell you: Maybe we’ve all been sleeping on Texas.
Most of the wines we tasted came from the Texas High Plains, an AVA established in 1993 and centered around the Llano Estacado plateau near Lubbock. It’s enormous, covering more than 8 million acres and producing the vast majority of Texas wine grapes.
That fact alone surprised me. But when you dig into the geography, it starts making sense.
The vineyards here sit between 3,000 and 4,000 feet in elevation, where warm sunny days are followed by dramatically cooler nights. That diurnal shift helps grapes ripen fully while preserving acidity—the holy grail for balance. Add in sandy loam soils, low humidity, constant wind and minimal rainfall, and you have a growing environment that naturally limits disease pressure and forces vines to work harder.
If that all sounds familiar, it should. These conditions are remarkably similar to parts of Spain, southern France and Italy—places where many of these grapes originated. Texas, it turns out, may not be ideal for pinot noir or delicate chardonnay, but robust Mediterranean varieties? That’s a different story.
We started the evening with Pedernales Cellars “Kyla” sparkling semillon, and it was a strong opening act. Pedernales Cellars, located just outside Fredericksburg, has become one of Texas’ benchmark producers, known for Rhône and Spanish varietals, and a commitment to sustainability.
Their sparkling semillon was an inspired place to begin. Semillon is originally from Bordeaux, where it’s most famous as the backbone of white Bordeaux blends and the noble sweet wines of Sauternes. But Semillon is a fascinating grape, because it’s adaptable—capable of richness but also freshness when picked earlier. The warm days help it develop texture and ripe fruit, while those cool high plains nights keep it from going flat.
In the glass, the “Kyla” showed lemon curd, white peach, green apple skin and a touch of brioche, with bright acidity and a crisp citrus finish. Think Spanish Cava energy, but with a Texas accent.
Next up was the Bending Branch picpoul blanc—and this wine was a standout.
Bending Branch, based in Comfort, Texas, has built a reputation for experimentation and precision, especially with Mediterranean varieties. Their picpoul was one of the clearest examples of why Texas growers are smart to look toward southern Europe for inspiration. Picpoul blanc—often called the “lip stinger” in the Languedoc region of southern France—is naturally high in acid, even in warm weather, which makes it incredibly valuable in hot regions like Texas, where some white grapes can lose their freshness quickly.
This white was electric, with lime zest, underripe pineapple, crushed oyster shell, and a salty mineral note that made it wildly food-friendly. It had energy. It had life. It made me want oysters immediately.
Then came the wildcard: Kalasi Cellars Re d’Italia Narra Vineyards red. Kalasi Cellars, based in Fredericksburg, leans heavily into Italian varietals and Old World sensibility, which I appreciated immediately.
What struck me most about these wines wasn’t that they were just “good for Texas.” They were simply good wines—distinctive, thoughtful and full of personality.
The blend itself is made from three powerhouse Italian grapes—sangiovese, sagrantino and teroldego—each bringing something entirely different to the table. Sangiovese, Tuscany’s most famous grape and the backbone of Chianti and brunello, contributes bright acidity, red cherry fruit and structure. Sagrantino, from Umbria, is one of Italy’s most tannic and deeply concentrated grapes, known for dark fruit, spice and age-worthy muscle. Teroldego, native to Trentino in northern Italy, adds color, richness and a wild earthy quality, often showing black plum and violet notes.
Together, they create something layered and powerful: dried cherry, roasted plum, leather, dried herbs, cracked pepper and a dusty earthiness. What I loved most was how each grape seemed to soften and sharpen the others at the same time—the acidity of sangiovese lifting the density of sagrantino, the dark fruit of teroldego rounding out the edges. It was bold, savory and beautifully balanced—the kind of wine that makes you slow down and pay attention.
That’s the thread I kept noticing: Texas seems to excel when it stops trying to emulate California and instead embraces grapes built for sun and stress.
Then we circled back to Pedernales for their mourvèdre, and this may have been my favorite red of the night.
Mourvèdre originated in Spain, where it’s called monastrell, though many wine lovers know it through southern France, particularly Bandol, where it thrives in hot, dry, coastal conditions. It loves heat. It actually needs heat. That’s why Texas makes this grape feel right at home.
Mourvèdre is late-ripening and can struggle in cooler climates, but in Texas, it has the long growing season it needs to fully mature. The result? Deep concentration without green edges. This bottle showed blackberry, cracked pepper, violets, smoked meat and warm earth, with a richness that felt substantial but not heavy. That’s not easy to pull off.
And finally, we ended with the heavyweight: Bending Branch tannat.
Tannat is originally from Madiran in southwest France, though many drinkers now associate it with Uruguay, where it has become the national grape. Much like mourvèdre, tannat thrives in heat. It’s thick-skinned, naturally high in tannin, and built for intensity. In a place like Texas—dry, sunny and warm—it develops powerful fruit while maintaining structure.
Bending Branch has essentially made tannat their signature, and after tasting it, I understand why. This was dense and brooding in all the right ways: black plum, cassis, dark chocolate, espresso and tobacco leaf, with tannins that were firm but polished. It’s the kind of wine that begs for a big ol’ steak. Or patience. Or possibly both.
What struck me most about these wines wasn’t that they were just “good for Texas.” They were simply good wines—distinctive, thoughtful and full of personality.
For a region still earning its place in the broader wine conversation, Texas seems to be figuring out something important: Grow what belongs there, not what’s trendy or whatever the current cash crop du jour is. They are growing what makes sense, and right now, that seems to be Mediterranean and southern European varieties—grapes that understand heat, drought and resilience.
If you’re thinking about visiting, from what I hear, the best time to explore Texas wine country is spring (March through May) or fall (September through November), when temperatures are manageable, and vineyards are buzzing with activity. Fredericksburg, at the center of it all, offers dozens of tasting rooms, charming inns and enough barbecue to make you rethink every brisket you’ve ever had.
I haven’t been to Texas wine country … yet. But you can bet that this wine region has officially moved onto my short list.
Katie Finn is a certified sommelier and certified specialist of wine with two decades in the wine industry. She can be reached at katiefinnwine@gmail.com.
