e pluribus
vinum

Fine wine has a story it tells about itself — about a visionary proprietor, a singular terroir, the sacrifice of the artisan; about employees who are "family" and customers who are "members." It rings true, sometimes. More often, it's a silly conceit — a story to tell in place of a reason for being.

Behind this is a more tired and true story: the business is a patriarchy, and what the profits are — let alone where they go — is nobody's business besides the owner's: not the farmer's, not the cellar hand's, and least of all yours, the customer. Your membership, in practice, is a passive payment system with a warmer name.

We are not that. A cooperative is not a wine club with a democratic veneer. It is not a "collective," which can mean whatever you want it to mean.

A cooperative is a legal structure whose ownership is open to all, whose profits flow back to members in proportion to their participation. For winegrowers, it's in proportion to what they produce; for community members, in proportion to what they consume.

We are a group of small growers, in solidarity with you, our community. We make one wine, for one price, for our collective good.

Our books are open. We elect our Board of Directors and hold them accountable; we vote on major decisions — in winemaking and in finance — together.

The conditions currently devastating the conventional wine business — unrelenting costs for small growers; for large ones, the discovery that volume does not, in fact, protect the margin; consumer fatigue with marketing spin; and a wary longing for authentic participation — these are not market cycles. They are a permanent shift.

The cooperative model accepts the shift.

We are not building for the industry as it was. We are building for what comes next.