I have a theory about Gamay producers in Oregon. Like most winemakers, they go into the business for the love of wine. Some possess an artistic temperament, maybe a latent interest in chemistry or biology. They’ve got an attention to detail, and love a good meal. And they’re in Oregon, so they’re probably not opposed to natural beauty and bucolic scenery. None of this sets them apart from others in their cohort. 

No, what Gamay producers have more than other winemakers—because they’re Gamay producers—is a belief that wine was put on this earth to bring joy. And that’s because, more than any other grape variety, Gamay is happy-making. Producers of Gamay in Oregon, therefore, are agents of happiness—Disney characters, in search of smiles.

“I love the energy of Gamay,” says Bethany Kimmel of The Color Collector, the only Gamay-only winery in the Pacific Northwest. “It’s inviting and playful. Not that it’s unserious, but it has quaffability.” She adds: “I gravitate toward wines that make me feel good.” As should we all.

For anyone needing a primer, Gamay is a French variety grown in great concentration in Beaujolais, south of Burgundy, and to a lesser degree in Savoie and the Loire Valley. In France its best iterations are just as soulful, exuberant, and charming. They can also be insipid, as any mass-produced wine tends to be when rushed to a global market well before it’s ready to drink or be taken seriously, as is done annually for  most commercial Beaujolais Nouveau, about which the less said the better.¹ 

In Oregon there are finally enough bottlings to call the Gamay thing a thing. Acreage is on the rise: in 2022, the last year for statistics, plantings had grown by 28 percent from the year prior (up from 30 acres in 2017), making it the fastest-growing variety in the state. At just over 200 acres, it’s not likely to topple the Pinot Noir hegemony anytime soon, but inroads are inroads. Not only this, producers will tell you this drought-tolerant, sun-loving variety may prove to be more amenable to a warming region than Pinot Noir. 

Gamay was introduced to the state in the middle ‘80s. It was among the cool-climate assortment David Adelsheim returned with from France after touring nurseries there. It’s believed Myron Redford of Amity Cellars was the first to bottle one, in 1988, followed in 1992 by Doug Tunnell of Brick House Vineyards. Others got on board, including Adelsheim, Brian O’Donnell of Belle Pente, Harry Peterson-Nedry of Chehalem, and Bernard Lacroute of WillaKenzie Estate. Early efforts were serviceable and pleasant, less grand than Pinot Noir, but more immediate, reflective of summer’s warmth—the variety performed best in warm vintages, when the wines’ formidable acidity would become less puckery and more succulent. 

For many years, Tunnell’s Due East Gamay bottling at Brick House was the region’s standard-bearer, winning gold medals at the Concours Mondial de Bruxelles and elsewhere. More to the point, it made Tunnell happy to make it; in fact, recently he surprised himself by replacing an underperforming block of Chardonnay with the variety—bringing his total commitment to 6.5 acres. “I love Chardonnay,” he says. “but with the Gamay I’m getting the wine I really want.”

More recently a new wave of young producers began seeking out the variety, their interest channeled through the natural-wine movement, which after all originated in Beaujolais. There Marcel Lapierre and the group of winemakers known as the Gang of Four rebelled against commercial winemaking, eschewing the use of commercial yeasts, placing their viticulture in a more regenerative direction, and all but eliminating the use of sulfur. Grant Coulter of Hundred Suns was suitably inspired by an older Beaujolais cru bottling at a restaurant in Portland, a Fleurie from Jean Foillard. “It was just so generous and soft,” he says, “such beautiful aromatics and fruit, and that slight whiff of corruption—not in a bad way, a soulful way, all these crazy tones to it. I’ve been buying a lot of Foillard ever since.” 

For Scott Frank of Bow & Arrow the touchstone was unquestionably the Loire, specifically the wines of Catherine Roussel and Didier Barrouillet of Clos Roche Blanche. As a young retailer Frank regularly guzzled their Touraine Gamay, not quite believing that such profound wines could be so affordable. (Alas, these winemakers have retired and the wines, now rare, no longer are.) “These were mind-blowing wines that everyone could afford,” says Frank, adding, “I wanted to carry on that tradition and make wines priced for everybody to drink.” (That’s the 2023 Willamette bottling, for $23.) “You don’t need to make everything bougie. We have enough tête de cuvées already.” 

With her winery partner Thomas Monroe, Kate Norris of Division Wine Co., makes four Gamay bottlings (plus one Gamay-based rosé). For them, Gamay is the ideal vector for expressing Oregon terroir. “The wines that we love in the world transmit where they’re grown in a way that’s really integrated and delicious,” says Norris. “That’s what Gamay gives you here. The volcanic soils give you beautiful sanguine, iron-rich notes; and then most vineyards are surrounded by pine trees, so you get these pine sap, sandalwood, cedar notes that for me is the Willamette Valley.”

About 10 years ago Norris and Monroe decided to gather Oregon Gamays for a tasting. With partners Michelle Battista and Leah Scaife, they produced their first I Love Gamay festival in Portland in 2017, on the first weekend in “GaMay.” (Their Insta and t-shirt pun game was strong—you could say it was Gamazing.) They brought together about 20 Oregon producers and a handful from Beaujolais, California, and Canada, and drew many hundreds of fans, bringing attention to the wines’ quaffability and charm; the festival was on an upward trajectory when Covid put an end to such gatherings.

Tasting Oregon Gamays side by side reveals a number of emergent styles, akin to such variations in Beaujolais and the Loire. You can of course, make Gamay as you would Pinot Noir, with the result that it tastes a bit like Pinot Noir held in place with a vise-grip, the acids and tannins almost Italianate in their velvety firmness and tactile precision. Some producers do a version of Nouveau, because it’s fun to drink and fun to sell (and it’s also fun, I imagine, to get a little early-release income). Such wines are usually made using carbonic maceration, whereby whole grapes, sometimes still on their stems, begin fermenting in a sealed tank, usually filled with carbon dioxide, which softens the wine’s tannins and renders the flavors fruity and bright. 

Employing carbonic, in whole or in part, is one of the ways producers create subtle stylistic variations. You can be judicious in your percentage of whole cluster; how much and where you place that layer of fruit in the tanks during fermentation can alter the texture and flavor of the finished bottling, as does when you press off and when you crush the uncrushed berries. Some make more than one style, because the grape lends itself to exploration, as long as you don’t overthink it. One thing you’ll almost never find is oak—while aging in used barrels is common, new oak is anathema to Oregon Gamay, and would get in the way of other more attractive elements.

“I’ve learned to be very gentle with the fruit, and rather slow,” says Kimmel of The Color Collector. “When the fruit comes in I hand-destem every cluster. Then I look for lignified whole clusters and layer them in with whole berries.” Her fermentations are done with native yeast, nothing added. “Vineyard yeasts,” she says, “let the vineyard tell its own story.” She never uses a pump, believing that there is always some shearing action in pumping—she uses only gravity, preserving the prettiness. Bottling happiness, one whole berry at a time.

Oregon Gamay Producers to Know

Brick House

Doug Tunnell farms 4.5 acres of Gamay on his biodynamic Ribbon Ridge estate, with plantings of two more acres imminent. He makes three bottlings: an estate from young vines ($36), a new bottling called Jewel’s ($56), composed of a new French clone, and Due East ($46), his flagship Gamay. Made in a traditional style, the Due East is dusty and slightly peppery, with scents of strawberry and lavender, firm and peppery tannins. Sear a duck breast and pour.

Bow & Arrow

Scott Frank makes three variations on Gamay, two of which are blends. Rhinestones ($25) is Frank’s version of a Passe-Tout-Grain (the Gamay-Pinot Noir blend produced in Burgundy) that’s suave and delicious. Time Machine is a multi-vintage blend of Pinot Noir, Gamay, and Cabernet Franc, and is a crunchy and juicy everyday wine ($20). His 2023 Bow & Arrow Gamay Willamette Valley ($23) is all Gamay, with scents of violets and strawberry, a dusty cherry texture with terrific tension and energy, vibrant fruit, and an exceptionally exuberant mid-palate burst.

Division Wine Co. 

No surprise that the founders of the I Love Gamay fest make four wines from the grape, roughly in line with what’s done in Beaujolais. The 2023 Division-Villages Les Petits Fers ($26) blends Oregon and Washington fruit, and is light and forward. Their 2022 Willamette Valley Lutte Gamay ($30) is a bit like a cru Beaujolais: a blend of four vineyards, a juicy cherry-bomb that’s silky and floral in its texture, with acidity galore. Two wines from the Eola-Amity Hills—the 2022 Gala, from Jubilee Vineyard, and the 2022 Cru, from Methven Vineyard (both $39) are more serious wines, with a firmer structure as you’d expect from the Eola Hills: dusty aromatics, peppery, mineral, and firm on the palate. Lay down the Gala for a year, pop the Cru now.

The Color Collector

Bethany Kimmel’s pursuit of happiness led her to the Columbia Gorge where she’s planted a small vineyard and opened a wine bar, Soča, in White Salmon. For now her output is 100 percent Gamay, including a beautiful Willamette Valley Rosé ($28), with jubilant fruit and hints of tarragon herb; a Willamette Valley bottling ($32) that reads like a cru Beaujolais, dark and deeply flavored, with pure black cherry notes and a foresty savor on the palate, a fruitskin grip of tannins. Her 2022 Björnson Vineyard Gamay ($46) is more serious and structured, bloody and sapid, with haunting scents of violets and smoke.

Top Oregon Gamay Cuvées

2023 Et Fille Willamette Valley Gamay ($34)

A single-vineyard Gamay from the Tualatin Hills, made by the talented Jessica Mozeico (with grape sampling by her fille Gabriella). It’s bright and forward, with a lively fruit character, juicy strawberry/cherry flavors with a spine of acidity that makes the wine race on the palate, a peppery finish. 

2023 Hundred Suns Willamette Valley Gamay ($35)

From a high-elevation site in the Chehalem Mountains, made with 100 percent cluster inclusion and carbonic maceration, finished in amphora and neutral barrels. It’s reserved at first, then earthy and limned with cinnamon spice. It’s fine boned and light on its feet, with a sneaky acidity on the back end.