Yamanashi

The Kōshū Valley sits in the embrace of four mountain ranges—the Southern Alps, the Kantō Mountains, the Misaka Hills, and Mt. Fuji itself—a natural amphitheater that has shaped vine cultivation since the Heian period. The Koshū grape arrived here over a thousand years ago, traveling the Silk Road from Central Asia before finding a home in the volcanic and alluvial soils that wash down from these surrounding peaks. For most of that millennium it was grown as a table grape, trained overhead in the traditional pergola system called tanazukuri, a canopy design that lifted clusters above the monsoon-drenched ground and protected the low-acid fruit from the humidity that blankets the valley each summer. This was not incidental engineering but terroir expression disguised as agriculture: the system shaped the grape’s character as much as the soil beneath did. The transformation to winemaking came abruptly in 1874, when the Meiji government dispatched two Katsunuma farmers—Takano Masanari and Tsuchiya Ryūken—to Bordeaux with orders to learn French technique. They returned with rootstock, methods, and ambition, establishing what became Japan’s first commercial winery in the village that had grown Koshu for centuries. The question they faced was fundamental: could a grape shaped by a thousand years of table-wine cultivation be persuaded into something fermented?

For much of the twentieth century, the answer was no—or at least, not in any way that resembled what the international wine world wanted to hear. Yamanashi’s producers specialized in the slightly sweet, sake-influenced styles suited to Japanese cuisine but largely invisible to the international market. The breakthrough came not from accepting this position but from rejecting it entirely. A small cohort of estates began working against Koshu’s natural tendencies in the 1990s and 2000s, reducing yields below tradition, managing humidity through aggressive canopy work, experimenting with stainless steel and temperature control in the cellar. Grace Winery’s Koshu earned coverage in international wine publications. Château Mercian’s Koshu of Katsunuma drew broader attention. When GI Yamanashi was established in 2013—Japan’s first geographical indication for wine—the region gained an official framework and the credibility that framework carried. The rules were strict: only domestically grown grapes, defined production methods, a fixed production zone. What had been a regional curiosity began to read, internationally, as something deliberate. The appellation was not declaring victory. It was declaring intent.