On a clear afternoon in East Tennessee’s McMinn County, a light breeze moves across a ridgeline draped in muscadine vines. From the tasting room at Tsali Notch Vineyard, the view stretches across farmland shaped by weather and time.
The scene feels pastoral, even serene, but the operation behind it is anything but passive. Every row of vines, every bottle on the shelf and every visitor who makes the drive reflects a set of decisions shaped by Tennessee law, Tennessee climate and Tennessee economics.
Tsali Notch owner Cary Cox did not come to winemaking through inheritance or romance. A chemical engineer by training, he spent decades in the petroleum industry working for Ashland Oil, Texaco and Marathon before finishing his career in mergers and acquisitions at Marathon’s headquarters in Ohio. He grew up in McMinn County – Athens, specifically – left for school and work and returned home with a business mindset shaped far from vineyards.
When a vineyard near Athens came up for auction in 2009, Cox and two partners bought it almost opportunistically.
“At the time, it wasn’t a lifelong dream of mine to be a winemaker,” Cox says. “It was an interesting agricultural operation and it came up at the right moment.”
Within a few years, the partnership narrowed. Since 2012, Tsali Notch has been operated by Cox and his manager, JD – a lean structure that reflects the realities of wine production in Tennessee more than any romantic image of vineyard life.
Only about 3% of the wine sold in Tennessee is produced in the state. Cox returns to that statistic often as a framing device.
“That surprises people,” he says. “But that gap between expectation and reality is where the opportunity is. I don’t look at how big we are. I look at how big the market is.”
The tension between small-scale production and large potential runs through the entire story of Tennessee wine. The industry’s modern form is the product of nearly two centuries of fits and starts: early promise, abrupt erasure and methodical rebuilding. But today, with more than 60 commercial wineries, a growing agritourism footprint and renewed investment in grape research and winemaking science, Tennessee wine is moving from rebirth into maturation.
A first industry, long forgotten
The idea that Tennessee is new to wine is historically inaccurate. Long before tasting rooms and wine trails, the state supported a meaningful grape industry. David Lockwood, who has spent more than 50 years working with fruit crops in Tennessee, traces that history back to the mid-19th century.
“The earliest record I could find of commercial grape production in Tennessee dates to around 1840,” Lockwood says, pointing to a vineyard in Stewart County. “By the late 1800s, grapes were a significant crop. About half the production went into wine and half into table grapes. We actually had far more acres of grapes then than we do now.”
That first era ended when Prohibition eliminated wineries outright; the Depression and shifting agricultural economics eroded what little remained. Vineyards disappeared, institutional knowledge scattered and wine lost its foothold as a legitimate Tennessee crop.
“What people forget is that this wasn’t a pause,” Lockwood says. “It was essentially a disappearance.”
Law before culture
Lockwood joined the University of Tennessee faculty in 1973 after earning his doctorate and working with fruit crops in Georgia and New York. At the time, grape research was already underway at UT’s experiment station in Crossville, but there was no legal framework to support commercial wine production.
That changed in 1978 with the passage of Tennessee’s grape and wine law. Two years later, the state’s first modern commercial winery opened, sparking what Lockwood calls a “rebirth.”
The law did not pass easily. Early growers and would-be winemakers lobbied aggressively, and many of the most effective advocates were lawyers with political connections. Among them was William O. Beach, a judge who founded Beachaven Winery, which remains in operation today.
“They knew how to move things through,” Lockwood says. “Without that law, none of what we’re talking about today would exist.”
Even then, legislation solved only one problem: permission. Climate and economics would shape everything that followed.
Growing where grapes resist
Tennessee is a challenging place to grow grapes, Lockwood says. High humidity creates constant disease pressure, and weather variability makes consistency difficult. European vinifera grapes – the backbone of wine regions such as California and France – struggle under those conditions.
“Vinifera are very sensitive,” Lockwood explains. “You need a very special site and favorable weather conditions or they don’t perform well. That reality forced us to learn much more about hybrids and American varieties.”
French-American hybrid grapes, originally developed during the phylloxera epidemic that devastated European vineyards in the late 19th century, became the backbone of Tennessee’s wine grape production. Native varieties also proved valuable. Cynthiana, also known as Norton and associated with Thomas Jefferson’s vineyards at Monticello, thrives in the region and offers relative disease resistance.
Muscadines tell a different story. Native to the Southeast, muscadines were once considered too cold-sensitive for commercial production in Tennessee. When Lockwood began his work, he would not have recommended them anywhere in the state.
“That’s changed,” he says. “We’ve seen milder winters, and breeders have developed new varieties. Muscadines have now moved as far north as East Tennessee and slightly beyond.”
At Tsali Notch, muscadines are the entire operation.
“All of our varieties are native,” Cox says. “They grow well here, they’re resistant to disease and insects and they have high antioxidant levels. That’s what protects the fruit.”
Weather remains the biggest variable.
“Mother Nature is the biggest challenge,” Cox continues. “You need rain when you need rain, and you need it not to rain when you’re harvesting. Wind can be an issue. Farming is never predictable.”
Shaped by constraint
If climate determines what can be grown, law determines how wine is made and sold. In 2012, Tennessee passed a custom crush law allowing growers to take fruit to another facility to be made into wine and then sell it under their own label. For small vineyards, the change was transformative.
“That opened up an entirely new line of operation for us,” Cox says. “It meant we didn’t have to build everything ourselves.”
Tsali Notch works with multiple winemakers, selecting them based on style and product goals. Some of its fruit becomes wine under the Tsali Notch label; some is used by other producers, including Nashville’s Belle Meade Winery.
“We might have one person making wine for themselves, for us and for someone else,” Cox says. “Within the framework of Tennessee law, there are all kinds of relationships that develop.”
That flexibility has encouraged collaboration rather than vertical integration. Building a full winery is capital-intensive, and for many Tennessee producers, shared production reduces risk, allows experimentation and preserves cash flow.
“Tennessee wineries didn’t evolve toward independence first,” Cox says. “They evolved toward survivability.”
Agritourism as economic engine
Distribution is not the primary driver of Tennessee wine. People are. Tsali Notch draws roughly 15,000 visitors a year – a number that continues to grow.
“Getting people here is the hardest part,” Cox says. “We’re not in the middle of a tourist district. People come here because they want to come here.”
Once they arrive, selling wine is rarely difficult. Agritourism does more than move bottles; it stabilizes revenue. Direct-to-consumer sales carry higher margins than wholesale distribution, and tasting rooms function as both retail outlets and brand education.
“Once people are here, the experience does the work,” Cox says.
Wine trails amplify that effect. Visitors who explore multiple wineries are more likely to stay overnight, eat locally and spend money beyond the vineyard gate, multiplying the industry’s economic footprint and anchoring wineries as rural destinations rather than isolated farms.
Measured by market share, Tennessee wine remains modest. Measured economically, it’s become increasingly consequential.
“Viticulture and enology have tremendous potential for the state of Tennessee in agricultural production, commercial sales and tourism,” says Keith Carver, senior vice chancellor and senior vice president of the University of Tennessee Institute of Agriculture (UTIA). “We want to see these industries thrive and grow.”
That institutional commitment reflects how far the industry has come and how visible it has become to policymakers and economists. From a single modern commercial winery in 1980, Tennessee now supports more than 60 wineries operating across the state.
An analysis by UTIA agricultural economists found that when tourism spending is included, the overall economic impact of the Tennessee wine industry in 2024 reached approximately $610 million, supporting more than 3,340 jobs.
The industry also generated an estimated $62 million in local and state tax revenue, underscoring how winery activity extends well beyond vineyard gates and tasting rooms.
“When people can explore multiple wineries through wine trails, it becomes a destination,” Lockwood says. “Visitors don’t just buy wine. They stay overnight, they eat locally, they spend money throughout the community.”
Wine production is no longer confined to a handful of counties. As of late 2024, 29 of Tennessee’s 95 counties had at least one winery, and grape-growing farms numbered 472 statewide. What once functioned as a niche agricultural pursuit has become geographically widespread.
Yet even with that growth, Tennessee wine still occupies a small share of its own market. Much of the wine sold in the state continues to be imported from California, Europe and elsewhere, a gap producers view less as failure than as untapped demand.
“When people come to Tennessee, they want something local,” Lockwood says. “That demand is encouraging more growers to consider planting vineyards and supplying Tennessee wineries.”
The next chapter
If the first modern rebirth of Tennessee wine was driven by law, its next phase is being shaped by research.
As grape growers and wineries continue to increase in number, UTIA has assembled an expanded team of professionals dedicated specifically to viticulture and enology – a signal that wine has moved from fringe agriculture to a recognized economic sector.
Within UT’s Department of Plant Sciences, two new faculty members are building on Lockwood’s five-decade legacy in extension fruit and nut crops, with a third hire – the university’s first fermentation sciences faculty position – expected in early 2026.
“For years, grapes were just one of many crops I worked with,” Lockwood says. “Now we have people who can focus entirely on viticulture and winemaking. That allows much deeper progress.”
One of those specialists is Peter Davadant, an assistant professor of viticulture with a research and teaching appointment. Originally from France, Davadant trained in agriculture and enology before completing his doctorate at Washington State University. His research at UT focuses on identifying grape varieties adapted to Tennessee’s climate and developing vineyard practices that reduce frost risk, manage vine vigor, control fungal diseases and improve fruit and wine quality.
A central part of Davadant’s work is understanding how climate, soils and growing conditions shape wine identity across East, Middle and West Tennessee. For the first time, UT students interested in viticulture will be able to take a course devoted entirely to grape production, supported by a new test vineyard designed to translate research directly into grower practice.
Alongside Davadant, Annie Vogel serves as assistant professor and UT extension commercial fruit specialist, providing the link between research and growers. Vogel’s background in viticulture includes hands-on research across multiple southeastern vineyards.
Her extension work emphasizes adapting practices to regional climates, encouraging integrated pest management and helping growers avoid costly mistakes before vines ever go into the ground.
“In viticulture, site selection and early decisions can shape a vineyard for decades,” Lockwood says. “Having that research-to-grower pipeline in place is invaluable.”
Even in retirement, Lockwood remains involved, supporting producers through extension outreach and working with Vogel to ensure continuity for growers who have relied on UT guidance for years.
Together, the expanded UT team reflects a broader shift in how Tennessee approaches wine. It’s not a novelty crop or tourism accessory but an integrated agricultural, scientific and economic system. The goal is not to replicate California or Europe, Lockwood says, but to refine what works here: resilient grapes, sound business models and wines that reflect Tennessee’s land.
Growing into itself
Back at Tsali Notch, Cox talks about growth. Retail sales continue to climb. Cider, introduced recently, already accounts for a significant share of revenue. Juice and jellies remain a surprisingly strong segment.
“At some point,” he says, “I’m probably going to have to build a bigger tasting room.”
Cox isn’t boasting. This is merely an observation.
Tennessee wine is no longer trying to prove that it exists. It’s learning how to exist well – shaped by climate, constrained by law, strengthened by collaboration and carried forward by people willing to adapt. Its future, like its past, will likely be built steadily, through patience, shared knowledge and a clear-eyed understanding of what the land can and cannot give.