How AVAs and vineyard designations on labels increase your enjoyment of wines

Boots in dusty, ultra-fine grained sandy loam defining much of the Lodi AVA, making a direct impact on the sensory qualities of the region's wines.

Let’s start with two questions:

1. What is an AVA?
2. Why are AVAs important?

AVA stands for American Viticultural Area; a concept first established in 1980 by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, or ATF, to recognize places of origins of American wines, which appear on wine labels.

At that time, the ATF—an independent bureau within the United States Department of the Treasury—began receiving and handling petitions for AVAs from regional wine or grape growing organizations across the country. In January 2003, under the provisions of the Homeland Security Act of 2002, the ATF was reorganized and the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau (TTB) was created to oversee the process of defining officially recognized American Viticultural Areas.

Prior to the establishment of the AVA system, designations of places of origin—similar to what has long been known in France as “appellations”—on wine labels consisted primarily of state and county designations, which of course are political boundaries. In 1980, for instance, when the Lodi AVA still did not exist (it would not be approved until 1986), if a wine grown in the Lodi area was bottled it would be labeled as either a San Joaquin County, a Sacramento County or (more likely) simply a California wine (the existing Lodi AVA falls within the two aforementioned counties).

Recent map pinpointing the 154 approved American Viticultural Areas in California alone. wineinstitute.org.

Before 1980, it had long been thought by the wine industry as well as by many consumer advocates that wine labels ought to carry appellations based upon regions recognized for the natural differentiations that have an impact on grape growing and, ultimately, the profiles or qualities of resulting wines grown in each of those regions. That is, demarcations drawn up on the basis of grapes and wines, not political boundaries.

Since the appellation systems established in Europe, such as France’s Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée, were established by national governments and regulated by law, it was felt that in the U.S. a federally mandated system of recognizing and controlling the usage of American wine regions was needed. Hence, AVAs.

If a wine is labeled with an AVA, at least 85% of the grapes that make up the wine must be grown in the stated AVA, and the wine must be fully finished within the state where the AVA is located. What this implies, for example, is that in order for a wine to qualify for a Lodi designation on a label, not all of the wine has to come from Lodi; up to 14.9% may be grown in other AVAs. 

Lodi, in fact, has long been a supplier of grapes for regions such as Napa Valley, Sonoma County, Mendocino, and many other parts of coastal California. Therefore, many wines bottled as Napa or Sonoma do consist of large percentages of Lodi grown grapes. Mohr-Fry Ranches’ Jerry Fry, who has been selling grapes to North Coast wineries since the late 1960s, has said, “There is an old joke that if the Rio Vista Bridge [on Hwy. 12, connecting Napa with Lodi] ever fell into the Delta, the economy of Napa Valley would crash... That’s an exaggeration, of course, but the fact is, a lot of Lodi grapes have traditionally gone into Napa Valley wines, and they still do!”

Map of the Lodi AVA and its seven sub-AVAs, showing its proximity to the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta.

The importance of knowing a wine’s origin

Among all the American AVAs, certain ones—such as Napa Valley, Willamette Valley, or Finger Lakes—have come to be associated with both sensory profiles and a level of quality consumers can depend upon when they make their buying decisions.

The Napa Valley AVA, however, is so complex in terms of growing conditions—from flat valley floors to multiple peaks and hillsides—it is further divided into no less than 15 sub-AVAs. Willamette Valley has 11 sub-AVAs. Sonoma County has 19 sub-AVAs, many of them overlapping with each other. The Lodi AVA consists of a reasonable 7 sub-AVAs, none of them overlapping (for deeper reading, see our post The nitty-gritty on Lodi’s seven AVAs).

Most consumers, of course, still buy their wines based on factors other than an AVA, such as: 1) a brand name, or 2) a varietal designation (i.e., the grape from which a wine is primarily made). Many wines are not varietals; instead, they are blends of grapes, often carrying fanciful proprietary names such as “The Prisoner” or “Opus One,” which are also based upon brand identification.

Which takes us back to our second question: Do AVAs matter? For an increasing number of consumers, it most definitely matters. When, for instance, you buy a Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley or any one of its sub-appellations, it is reasonable expect that you will get a fairly dark colored, sturdy, full bodied and rich style of Cabernet Sauvignon because that’s what Napa Valley is known for. Lodi also produces Cabernet Sauvignon, but when you see “Lodi” on a label with this varietal you usually expect a softer, rounder, more fruit-forward style of the varietal, because that's how the varietal responds to Lodi's environment. In fact, Lodi grown Cabernet Sauvignons are so soft and floral, many of them are blended with Petite Sirah to beef up their color, fruit profile and tannin structure.

Contrasting the terroirs of two completely different AVAs, producing completely different wines: Mokelumne River-Lodi's Bechthold Vineyard (top) consisting of ancient vine Cinsaut planted in deep, ultra-sandy loam soil at about 50-ft. elevation; Moon Mountain District-Sonoma's Monte Rosso Vineyard (bottom) planted to Zinfandel and other grapes on shallow, red volcanic slopes at about 1,100-ft. elevation.

It is the same for Zinfandel, a varietal grown all over the state, although over 40% of California Zinfandels are grown in Lodi. Why? Because the ceaseless sun (less fog or cloud cover than coastal regions), Mediterranean climate and deep sandy soils of Lodi are naturally conducive to growing good quality, and long lived (Lodi has more vines over 50 years old than any other region), Zinfandel vines.

Up until about 15 years ago, most Zinfandels carrying a Lodi appellation were made to duplicate, more or less, Sonoma County style Zinfandels. The reason for this is because Sonoma terroirs tend to grow the state's darkest, richest and ripest styles of Zinfandel, which became the unofficial standard for the varietal category. There was some logic to this: If most consumers expect Zinfandels to be dark, ripe and rich, then it makes sense to bottle a Zinfandel, even if grown in Lodi, that achieves a similar varietal profile.

Lodi’s sandy soils, however, are more naturally conducive to lighter colored, more floral styles of Zinfandel that are typically softer in tannin than those of, say, Sonoma or Napa. To achieve a Sonoma style of Zinfandel, a Lodi producer would have to blend large proportions of Petite Sirah (which makes a darker colored, higher tannin red wine) and utilize generous amounts of oak influence in a Zinfandel to offset the softer, lighter colored profiles more natural to Lodi.

Visiting sommelier tasting Zinfandel while holding typically small cluster of the grape in Lodi's Clements Hills AVA.

Over the past ten or so years, however, more and more local producers in Lodi have gone the opposite direction: Producing purer styles of Lodi Zinfandel blended with absolutely no Petite Sirah, while aging the red wines in strictly “neutral” barrels which contribute minimal “oak” flavors. This results in wines that are much more “Lodi” in style or character. Sure, it is softer, lighter and more floral than typical Napa or Sonoma Zinfandels, but the more consumers have grown accustomed to the pure Lodi style, the more they seem to love it.

And this is why AVAs are important: For many categories of wines, it helps consumers decide what to buy. If you prefer, say, a bigger, bolder, darker Cabernet Sauvignon or Zinfandel, by all means you should stick to brands grown in a place such as Napa Valley or one of Sonoma County’s numerous sub-appellations. But if you now prefer or softer, more floral or delicate style of Zinfandel, or a rounder, easier drinking Cabernet Sauvignon, then you are more likely to get that in a wine that says “Lodi” on the label. Vive la différence!

To learn more about Lodi grown wines of numerous sorts that epitomize the AVA, see our recent post A current list (over 100!) of wines that celebrate Lodi's sense of place. To know, know Lodi is to love, love it more.

The growing importance of vineyard designations

Getting to know AVAs is key to enhancing your enjoyment of wine, but once a consumer is ready to drill down even deeper into more specific personal preferences, the next step is the seeking of wines with vineyard designated labels—that is, the identification of single vineyards.

Mohr-Fry Ranches' Jerry Fry in his family's Marian's Vineyard; own-rooted Mokelumne River-Lodi Zinfandel planted in 1901 on its own natural roots.

Recently, for instance, we posted a story on the fact that Lodi’s Marian’s Vineyard, consisting of own-rooted Zinfandel originally planted in 1901, was recently named Vineyard of the Year by the 2025 California State Fair. Marian’s, known mostly for vineyard-designate bottlings by Lodi’s St. Amant Winery, has long been a beloved source of the grape, but the award was not just a sentimental gesture, nor just an acknowledgement of a long, heroic history. The vineyard also produces a genuinely rich, fragrant, silken style of Zinfandel that, on a sensory level, practically epitomizes a Lodi style of Zinfandel. All told, so to speak, Marian’s is Lodi.

But why else should you look for single vineyard designations on labels? If you happen to be a fan of authentic “old vine” wine—which in Lodi means wines from vineyards planted at least before the 1960s, and as far back as the early 1900s and late 1800s—vineyard designations are usually how you identify them on labels. Most old vine Zinfandels bottled in Lodi do not actually say “old vine,” they usually just have a name of a vineyard.

Just this past week, a question was brought up at the start of a tasting conducted for visiting scholars by Sandlands/Turley winemaker Tegan Passalacqua at his Victor, Lodi, CA home. It was an honest query, begging an honest answer: Why bother bottling so many wines made from different vineyards?

Turley Wine Cellars, admittedly, is an extreme example of serial vineyard designations. They bottle well over 30 different vineyard-designate Zinfandels each year, and another half-dozen single-vineyard Petite Sirahs. It is what they do.

Tegan Passalacqua of Turley Wine Cellars and Sandlands Wines in Lodi.

At the tasting, Passalacqua himself did not directly answer the question. Instead, he simply proceeded to demonstrate his response by presenting a horizontal of three different Turley brand Zinfandels, all from the Lodi appellation, and pointed out the distinctions in each one. The Zinfandels, in the order they were poured, with each one’s key attributes:

2021 Kirschenmann Vineyard—Fragrant, pure, high toned red fruit (cherry, strawberry) with pungent kitchen spice, silky and layered on the palate.

2021 Steacy Ranch—Also fragrant in a floral sense, but mixing red plus black and blueberry-like fruit with a touch of loamy earthiness (something absent in the Kirschenmann), but without so much of the spice, although just as soft, silken and layered on the palate.

2021 Dogtown Vineyard—Intense, penetrating red berry/cherry perfume with zero earthiness, yet decidedly firmer on the palate with slightly grippy tannin and perceptively zesty acidity which, while bordering on sharpness, clearly gives the wine its fresh, upbeat, long and balanced feel.

Passalacqua also proffered the intellectual reasons why Turley’s three Lodi Zinfandels are distinctive: The Kirschenmann growing in ultra-sandy soil with limestone lenses; the Steacy on loamier sand or alluvium just down the road from Kirschenmann; the Dogtown, several miles away on shallower clay-based slopes with gravel and sand. All these factors have a direct impact on cluster weight, berry size and ester formation; explaining why Kirschenmann is flowery and delicate, Steacy is earthier and blue fruit toned, and Dogtown is grippier and acid driven.

Ultimately, though, they are three Zinfandels with three completely different personalities, or (as the French say) typicité, and they’re exactly like that year-in and year-out.

Zinfandel harvest in Turley Wine Cellars' Steacy Ranch.

Passalacqua also pointed out the obvious: Each Zinfandel is so unique, they don’t even taste like the commercial idea of “Zinfandel.” That is, the standard expectation of “varietal character.” They might as well, in fact, be made from a different grape. They taste more like “wines” than Zinfandels.

Finally, even though made by the same producer, all three wines resist the compulsion, so common in the California wine industry, to carry specific sensory stamps identifying them as being part of the same portfolio. Sure, Turley is very much a brand, and a well known one at that. But unlike the vast majority of California brands, it eschews sensory sameness—other than employment of minimal intervention practices (i.e., organic farming, native yeast fermentation, restrained oak, etc.) in order to amplify individuality of vineyards.

Each wine tastes, in other words, like the vineyard it comes from. In the parlance of, admittedly, geeky winespeak, this is called terroir, or “sense of place.” It is appreciation of wines going even beyond the familiarity of broader wine regions, or the styles associated with appellations or sub-appellations. 

It is appreciation of wines for being exactly what they are as reflections of where they come from, down to specific grapevines in singularly defined vineyards. If you truly love wine, from Lodi, Napa, Sonoma, France, Germany or anywhere else in the world, this is where you invariably end up—which is truly a great place to be!

Dogtown Vineyard in Lodi's Clements Hills AVA; Zinfandel planted in 1944 in a slightly sloping, shallower, rustier colored, coarser sandy alluvium than that of most of Lodi's Mokelumne River AVA, producing a sharper, grippier style of Zinfandel less typical of Lodi in general.