By the standards of the global wine industry, Tennessee is not supposed to work.
The state’s climate is hot, humid and wet, with summer rainfall arriving precisely when grapes are ripening and most vulnerable to disease. Spring temperatures can swing wildly, putting young shoots at risk of frost damage that can wipe out an entire season in a single night.
Grapes, which evolved in dry Mediterranean climates, generally prefer predictability. Tennessee offers anything but.
And yet vineyards and wineries are slowly multiplying across the state. What was once considered fringe agriculture is now emerging as a legitimate economic sector. To support that growth, the University of Tennessee Institute of Agriculture is assembling an expanded viticulture and enology team, signaling a shift from experimentation to long-term investment.
Among those new hires is Pierre Davadant, an assistant professor of viticulture in UT’s Department of Plant Sciences, whose job is to help answer a fundamental question: If Tennessee is going to grow wine grapes, how can it do so sustainably, intelligently and with fewer sleepless nights for growers?
“Tennessee is probably one of the most challenging environments to grow grapes in the world,” Davadant says. “That doesn’t mean it’s impossible. It means it requires a lot of knowledge and technique.”
From tradition to science
Davadant brings a perspective shaped by both wine’s oldest traditions and its most technical research environments. Originally from France, he trained in agriculture and enology before earning his doctorate at Washington State University, one of the country’s leading centers for viticulture research.
In France, he says, wine is not simply an industry or an academic discipline, it’s a cultural language.
“Wine is part of daily life,” Davadant says. “People grow up having wine with dinner and knowing the varieties. They have a strong sense of place. In Bordeaux, for example, they understand that the wine tastes the way it does because of the climate and soil, and that it’s different on the other side of the river.”
The concept, known as terroir, underpins centuries of European wine classification. It reflects the belief that geography, climate and soil imprint a distinctive identity on wine. In places like Bordeaux or Burgundy, generations of growers refined that understanding over hundreds of years.
The American academic system, Davadant says, approaches the same subject from a different angle.
“My training in the U.S., especially at Washington State, was very technical, very scientific,” he says. “But academia itself is international. My adviser was Swiss.”
What drew Davadant to Tennessee was the challenge.
“Tennessee has a subtropical climate, which is a very challenging environment for grape growing,” he says. “The more challenging the environment, the more technical producers have to be.”
Knowing the land
One common misconception, Davadant says, is that viticulture research begins with grape varieties. In Tennessee, he believes it must begin with the land itself. Before recommending what to plant, he wants to understand where grapes can reasonably succeed.
“First, we need to characterize the soil and the climate of Tennessee,” he says. “Is Knoxville the same as Chattanooga? Do they accumulate heat and rainfall in the same way? That work has to be done at a very small scale because sun exposure and airflow depend on each individual parcel of land.”
Those differences matter, Davadant says. Air movement can reduce disease pressure, while slopes can drain cold air during frost events. Sun exposure influences ripening and flavor development. Without understanding those variables, varietal selection becomes guesswork.
“This work has to happen at the scale of the entire state,” Davadant says. “But it also has to be very detailed. We’re trying to find the best land for grapes.”
Only then, he says, does it make sense to talk about which grape varieties belong where and whether some might thrive statewide while others are limited to specific microclimates.
Keeping growers up at night
Among Tennessee growers, Davadant says, no risk looms larger than spring frost.
When grapevines break dormancy, tender shoots and clusters emerge. If temperatures drop below freezing during that narrow window – which is often just a week or two – a year’s crop can be lost overnight.
“When frost happens, it kills the entire shoot,” Davadant says. “There will be no fruit that year. You have to wait another year.”
Fungal disease, driven by Tennessee’s humidity and rainfall, is also a constant challenge. But unlike frost, it’s manageable with vigilance.
“You have to constantly inspect your vineyard and spray, spray, spray,” he says.
That vulnerability is a central focus of Davadant’s research. While plans are underway to establish a dedicated experimental vineyard at UT, Davadant’s work is already unfolding in commercial vineyards across the state.
One current project examines whether pruning techniques can reduce frost risk by delaying bud break. The experiment is underway at four vineyards spanning East to West Tennessee, allowing comparisons across regions.
“By April, we’ll know if it worked,” Davadant says. “And whether it worked differently depending on location.”
Teaching that lasts decades
Davadant’s teaching role is equally focused on consequences.
Viticulture, he tells students, is not about quick fixes. Decisions made before a vine is planted, including site selection, variety choice and training system, can shape outcomes for decades.
“There’s a strong logic in all these choices,” he says. “If you don’t make them properly, they will keep you awake at night for the rest of your life.”
Students in UT’s new viticulture coursework will study how practical choices in a vineyard can strongly influence yield and fruit composition.
“Ultimately, what matters is the taste of the wine,” Davadant says. “But you also need enough fruit to survive economically.”
If students walk away understanding which decisions matter most, he says, the program will have succeeded.
A complete vision
Looking five to 10 years ahead, Davadant envisions a fully integrated viticulture and enology program at UT, one that combines research, teaching and extension.
“That means an experimental vineyard, an experimental winery and strong extension support,” he says. “Someone who wants to plant a vineyard and doesn’t have a background should be able to find resources.”
Other states, he notes, offer models to follow.
Some states partially fund well-established viticulture and enology research and teaching programs located within their borders. This support is often derived from wine-related taxes, with a small portion of excise tax revenue reinvested into grape and wine research.
“That funding makes a huge difference because it allows research programs to grow alongside the industry,” Davadant says. “Tennessee has significant potential in viticulture and enology, and establishing sustained investment in research would be a key factor in supporting the industry’s long-term growth.”
A possible future
Asked what he enjoys drinking himself, Davadant laughs before answering.
“It depends on the meal,” he says, noting a longtime fondness for Chenin Blanc. More recently, he says, he opened a bottle of Albariño from Virginia that surprised him.
“It was excellent. I was really impressed.”
For Davadant, the takeaway was that great wine emerges through knowledge, patience and careful decisions made long before a bottle is opened. Tennessee, he believes, is capable of that same trajectory.
The question is no longer whether the state can grow grapes. It’s whether, with the right research and support, it can one day answer the same question Davadant found himself asking over that glass of Albariño: Could Tennessee produce a wine like that?