The Beautiful Work: Women Cultivating Maryland’s Wine Future
From the rolling hills of Frederick to the edges of Landover, Maryland’s women winemakers are cultivating more than vineyards. They're building legacy, shaping culture, and redefining what power in wine looks like. Meet the quiet trailblazers behind Hidden Hills, Loew Vineyards, and Narcisso Wine Cellar—women turning land into language, and labor into something beautiful.
“I make wine not to impress, but to express.”
— A woman winemaker, somewhere between the vine rows and the cellar
In Maryland’s evolving wine country, a quiet shift is taking place—one that’s as much about identity as it is about innovation. Women are at the helm of this movement, not just managing vineyards, but shaping narratives—through land, labor, and legacy. They’re building spaces of ownership, creativity, and continuity in an industry where their presence has long been the exception, not the rule.
These are not borrowed titles or ceremonial roles. These are vineyards planted with intention. Labels born of long hours and deep love. Wines that carry the fingerprints of the women who made them—bold, nuanced, and unafraid to age beautifully.
And while the national spotlight often turns to the West Coast or neighboring Virginia, Maryland’s women winemakers are crafting something quietly extraordinary. You’ll taste it not just on the palate, but in the stories behind the glass.
🍇 Profiles in Grit, Elegance, and Vision
Hidden Hills Farm & Vineyard – Frederick County
Once an equestrian estate, Hidden Hills is now one of the region’s most thoughtfully curated wine destinations. Founded by Robin Sagoskin, the vineyard seamlessly bridges rural charm with refined hospitality. Each label—many named after horses that once roamed the land—tells a story of transformation: of the land, of purpose, and of womanhood redefined.
Robin’s wines are expressive, approachable, and quietly ambitious. In a region not yet saturated by trend, she’s found the rare space to lead with clarity, warmth, and confidence.
Loew Vineyards – Mt. Airy
Heritage meets forward momentum at Loew Vineyards, where fifth-generation winemaker Rachel Lipman has taken the reins of her family’s legacy. Since stepping into the role, she’s not only expanded production and introduced modern practices, but honored the deeply personal traditions of her ancestors—some of whom once made mead in Eastern Europe before immigrating to America.
Rachel’s presence is part of a larger wave of young, intellectually driven women redefining what it means to be a winemaker today: part scientist, part storyteller, all rooted in a deep reverence for craft.
Narcisso Wine Cellar – Landover
Cyndi Campbell and Dalia Chambers didn’t wait for a seat at the table—they built their own. Narcisso Wine Cellar, one of Maryland’s few Black woman-owned wineries, is at once intimate and expansive. Intimate in its size and scale; expansive in its vision and impact.
Their wines are personal and precise, and their work has created a network of mentorship and visibility for women of color in the region’s beverage industry. As entrepreneurs, they are clear-eyed and collaborative. As winemakers, they are uncompromising. Narcisso is proof that refinement can come from anywhere, and that representation in wine is not a trend—it’s a necessity.
🥂 A Future Rooted in Intention
Maryland’s women winemakers are not just participating in the conversation—they’re rewriting it. From the graceful transformation at Hidden Hills to the inherited wisdom of Loew, to the radical vision of Narcisso, their work is deliberate, dimensional, and deeply human.
So the next time you lift a glass from this region, pause.
What you’re tasting isn’t just well-made wine.
It’s the quiet power of women building something beautiful.
From Sacred Roots to Experimental Bottles: Maryland Wine Comes of Age—And Brings Crab Cakes, Too
Maryland wine began with Jesuit hands in the soil—and today, it’s being reimagined by bold, thoughtful winemakers with roots just as deep. From crab cakes to carbonic reds, this is a region that’s not just growing grapes—it’s growing identity. 🍷🌿
The Wine Story That Started Quietly—with a Prayer
In 1648, long before the wine boom, Jesuit priests planted European grapevines in what is now St. Mary’s County. They weren’t chasing tasting notes or terroir. They were cultivating something sacred—wine for communion, grown in American soil.
That early planting makes Maryland one of the first winegrowing regions in the country. And though it took centuries, setbacks, and a little rebellion against the expected, today’s winemakers are carrying that spirit forward: rooted in place, but ready to rewrite the rules.
Across this compact state, there’s a rhythm to how things are made. Grapes are grown with intention. Wines are crafted with edge. There’s a willingness to experiment, a respect for the land, and a sense that every bottle has something charming to say.
You won’t find sweeping estates with tour buses lined up. What you will find: rolling vines behind weathered barns, stainless steel tanks beside sunlit porches, and wines that hit the table with real presence.
Seasoned by Salt, Grounded by Earth
Maryland’s landscape gives its winemakers range. Hills. Rivers. Estuaries. Forest edges. It’s a mashup of ecosystems, and it shows up in the glass. Some wines carry the energy of stone and wind. Others bring something more coastal—bright, saline, and alive.
This is a state where Chardonnay meets oyster. Where skin-contact Albariño pairs effortlessly with a plate of Old Bay-dusted crab cakes. Where winemakers are letting the fruit speak—but with the structure and polish that tells you they know exactly what they’re doing.
The best part? There’s no mold to fit into here. No "right way" to be a Maryland winery. The styles are diverse, the people are independent, and the only rule is: make it matter.
Wineries That Are Defining the Scene
Old Westminster Winery (Westminster, MD)
They push boundaries—in the best way. Known for raw, expressive wines like pét-nats and orange blends, everything here tastes deliberate and alive.
Black Ankle Vineyards (Mount Airy, MD)
Elegant, architectural, and solar-powered. They’re farming with care and producing bold reds and nuanced whites that don’t rush to impress—but stay with you.
Big Cork Vineyards (Rohrersville, MD)
Big views, playful labels, and serious wine. Their Russian Kiss blend and aromatic whites prove that fun and finesse can go hand in hand.
Port of Leonardtown Winery (Leonardtown, MD)
A winemaking cooperative with coastal flair. Expect drinkable, affordable bottles perfect for seafood spreads, porch nights, or gift baskets that actually get opened.
The Vineyards at Dodon (Davidsonville, MD)
Old tobacco land turned regenerative wine farm. Their wines are clean, intellectual, and made with the kind of discipline that doesn’t shout—it just works.
The Maryland Mood
Drinking Maryland wine isn’t about checking boxes. It’s about staying present. The pop of a cork at a riverside picnic. The citrus zip of a chilled white on a humid July night. The story you didn’t expect to fall in love with.
This isn’t "potential." This is arrival. Maryland wine is here, and it’s making something worth noticing—without trying to be anything it’s not.
So grab a bottle. Shuck an oyster. Tear into a crab cake with your hands. And let Maryland show you how it pours.
Virginia Poured
“Virginia wine tastes different—not just in flavor, but in feeling. There’s a softness to it, a kind of restraint that speaks of misty mornings and mineral-rich hillsides. These are wines that don’t show off—they reveal themselves slowly, whispering unforgettable tales of place, season, and stewardship. It’s not trying to impress you. It’s just trying to tell the truth.”
Virginia Summer Pours
by Mina Mitchell
Why Virginia Now?
Before Napa made headlines and Bordeaux set the bar, Virginia was quietly planting its roots. Thomas Jefferson famously failed to cultivate European vines at Monticello—but today’s winemakers are thriving where he once struggled. And they’re doing it with unmistakable character.
Modern Virginia wines are making space for themselves in the market—with Viogniers that rival Rhône whites, Cabernet Francs that whisper structure over show, and rosés that drink like July bottled. And for wine lovers seeking charm over pretense, local over imported, and a narrative that feels rooted—Virginia is speaking authentically.
A Summer State of Mind
There’s something quietly captivating about a summer afternoon in Virginia wine country. The light feels softer, like it’s been filtered through linen. The air is thick with honeysuckle and the low hum of cicadas. And the wine—crisp, local, unhurried—tastes like a secret the coasts forgot to keep. You can hear their legacy whisper in the farmhouse porches and the rolling Blue Ridge, in the unexpected cross streets and family-owned plots, in the stories behind every pour.
More than 300 wineries now dot the state, producing wines that are increasingly thoughtful, terroir-driven, and proudly made in America. These aren’t imitators. They’re originals. And for a summer glass that feels like it belongs to the American dirt beneath your feet, there may be no better place to sip.
Virginia Tastes Different
Virginia wine tastes different—not just in flavor, but in feeling. There’s a softness to it, a kind of restraint that speaks of misty mornings and mineral-rich hillsides. You won’t find over extracted boldness here; instead, you’ll taste balance, elegance, and a quiet confidence. The wines often sit somewhere between Old World structure and New World charm—unexpected, refined, and distinctly of this place. Each bottle carries a little of Virginia’s humidity, history, and humility.
It’s not trying to impress you. It’s just trying to tell the truth.
Wineries to Consider This Summer
If you're seeking a glass that tastes like summer’s slower moments and small-town beauty, here are a few Virginia vineyards worth visiting—or ordering from online:
Early Mountain Vineyards (Madison, VA)
Backed by the former owners of AOL, but crafted with humility and soul. Their rosé is a summer staple—fresh, elegant, and made for golden hour.Barboursville Vineyards (Barboursville, VA)
One of Virginia’s most respected estates. Their Octagon, a Bordeaux-style blend, is legendary—but for summer, the Vermentino or Sauvignon Blanc is crisp perfection.Stinson Vineyards (Crozet, VA)
A family-run micro-boutique winery in the foothills of the Blue Ridge. French-style, food-friendly wines that feel like a countryside lunch.King Family Vineyards (Crozet, VA)
Their Roseland white blend and Crosé rosé are go-tos for a patio pour. Bonus: they host summer polo on Sundays.Walsh Family Wine (Purcellville, VA)
One of the newer stars in Northern Virginia. Minimal intervention wines that feel intentional and alive.
Final Pour
To drink Virginia wine is to drink something made just for you—not mass-produced, not globalized. It’s a reminder that small is still beautiful. That soil still matters. That America is still making things—quietly, carefully, and with pride.
This summer, choose to visit, or better yet, order American. Support the growers, the makers, and the stories being poured from these hills into your glass.
It doesn’t have to be flashy.
It just has to be real.
From Shelf to Screen: Why Storytelling Is the Future of Wine Retail
In the golden age of retail, wine sold itself with a good label, a strong vintage, and a firm handshake across the counter. But today, as shelves go digital and tasting rooms turn virtual, what sells a bottle is not just what’s in it—it’s how you tell the story behind it.
The modern wine buyer might be shopping from a phone at 9 p.m. or scanning a newsletter over lunch. They’re not always looking for the perfect vintage—they’re looking for a reason to care. And that’s where good storytelling becomes more than a luxury—it becomes a strategy.
Why Story Still Matters in a Digital World
Even online, wine remains an emotional purchase. It’s not just about tannins or terroir—it’s about connection. A thoughtful product description can transport a reader to a foggy slope in Sonoma, a family-run cellar in Burgundy, or a late-summer harvest in Stellenbosch. The right words offer context, intimacy, and trust. They make the bottle feel personal—like a secret worth sharing.
Consumers don’t just want to know what they’re drinking—they want to know why it matters. That’s the difference between selling a product and building a relationship.
The Challenge: Precision Meets Poetry
For anyone managing content in the wine space, the real art lies in blending accuracy with voice. Product copy must balance technical detail with sensory language. It needs to speak to both the seasoned collector and the casual drinker. It should be rich with insight—but never overwhelming.
This is where editorial storytelling becomes a real differentiator. Done well, it doesn't just describe the wine—it reflects the values of the brand and deepens customer loyalty. A great description is both educational and transportive, speaking fluently in the language of both palate and feeling.
Editorial Voice as Competitive Edge
With so many options just a click away, a consistent editorial tone helps brands stand apart. From product pages and tasting notes to blog posts and email campaigns, clear, informed, and engaging copy turns browsers into buyers—and buyers into loyalists.
Strong wine content today must do double duty: it should be SEO-optimized to reach the right audience, and emotionally engaging enough to keep them coming back. The brands that succeed online understand that visibility and voice are equally vital. What makes one Chardonnay more memorable than another might be the minerality… or it might be the metaphor used to describe it.
The right words create resonance. And in a competitive market, resonance is currency.
Final Pour
The future of wine marketing lies not just in what’s in the glass, but in how it’s framed. Every bottle has a story to tell—origin, struggle, triumph, mystery. The brands that know how to tell those stories with clarity, elegance, and intention will continue to thrive, glass after glass, scroll after scroll.
A Love Letter to Wine: How Taste Matures Like a Good Life
A Love Letter to Wine: How Taste Matures Like a Good Life
I loved you too early.
At eighteen—barely legal in Europe, entirely illegal in America—I met you at a long dinner table in Madrid. You were Rioja, and I was wide-eyed and foreign. I tried to love you fast, slurping and smiling, pretending to understand your structure. I didn’t. But I wanted to. You were earthy, bold, and slightly beyond me. I took you in anyway.
In those days, I wanted wine like I wanted life: bright, fast, with obvious charm. Sauvignon Blanc. Something cold, floral, crisp, and easy. Something I could drink while dancing in the kitchen or flirting from a rooftop bar. I didn’t know then that ease wasn’t the same as depth, that clarity sometimes overshadows complexity. I didn’t know how to wait for the second glass to speak.
But time, as it does, aged me. Softened some edges, sharpened others. And somewhere along the way—between heartbreaks and birthdays, between moving apartments and marrying into a military life—I found myself reaching for a different bottle.
I stopped craving the sweetness of immediacy and started craving the quiet hush of something oak-aged. I fell for Grenache. For rustic Nebbiolo. For the wines that didn’t ask for my attention, but held it. Wines that whispered instead of shouted. Wines with patience.
And so it is with life.
The things we fall in love with at first sip—people, places, dreams—are often light and loud and easy to love. But over time, we come to admire what’s more textured. We learn to appreciate restraint. We fall for nuance. We begin to see that pleasure doesn’t always come wrapped in brightness, but in balance—that elusive middle note where everything aligns, even briefly.
There are wines I’ve outgrown, and some that have waited patiently for me to return. I no longer drink to feel something new. I drink to remember. Or to mark something. Or to be present with what is.
I suppose that’s the difference between wanting wine and loving it.
I loved you when I didn’t understand you. I love you more now that I do.
And still—like all good love stories—you keep surprising me.