Meet the star California winemakers with beer, whiskey and other drinks projects beyond wine

Winemakers are trained to think in grapes and, almost always, only grapes. Most will spend their entire careers relentlessly working within that single medium, fully aware that the craft is both exciting and unforgiving.

‘In wine, you get one harvest a year. Maybe 50 in a lifetime if you’re lucky,’ says Nick Gislason, winemaker at Screaming Eagle in Napa Valley’s Oakville AVA, who has taken on beer as another pillar of his creative outlet.

The built-in limits of winemaking, including the once-a-year window to make decisions in the cellar that will define an entire vintage, don’t exist in the same way in other beverage crafts.

Beer, for example, operates on an ongoing production cycle rather than a single seasonal window, with far more room to adjust and repeat in real time.

‘[Beer] makes you better at fermentation, because we’re working with yeast every single day,’ says Gislason. Even if the grains are harvested seasonally, like grapes, beer doesn’t unfold in a single moment. One batch is fermenting while another is being brewed.

An advantage over wine, he recognises, but one that makes it a complementary craft. ‘You learn how to manage air, temperature and timing in a more dynamic way. That absolutely feeds back into winemaking.’

From grape to grain: Hanabi Lager Co

Gislason created Hanabi, a small lager-focused beer label, around 2015.

For him, beer is not a side project, but another way of thinking through the same questions: how to grow grains for flavour, how to work with fermentation, how far one is willing to push risk in pursuit of something truly high quality.

Hanabi is an absurdly serious label. Unlike most brewers, Gislason is also a farmer, and he applies the same seriousness in viticulture as to grains, farming each variety differently, paying growers regardless of yield, going as far as reintroducing an ancient, almost extinct barley used in the first-ever Pilsners as Hanabi's flagship.

'For us, flavour is number one – even if the grain costs four times more or yields less,’ he says.

The label found its first audience among wine drinkers and sommeliers – The French Laundry and Single Thread, both Michelin-starred restaurants in northern California, were early placements – where Gislason's wine background likely carried weight.

These days, however, most of its consumers (it is distributed in six different states in the US and exported to Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Japan, Taiwan and China, about 25% of its total production) are serious beer drinkers who, as he notes, ‘often have no connection to wine’.

'Beer and wine, to me, are like different instruments. Like in music, you can play to people in a wider way if you use more than just one instrument.'

Reaching a wider audience

Dan Petroski of Massican, in Napa’s St Helena, also went on to play a whole new set of instruments to reach a wider audience.

Over the course of a decade, he explored making vermouth, beer and even gin alongside his wines, building by 2019 what he called 'world Massican': a universe he wanted to open to everybody, 'not just people who love white wine'.

The vermouth came to be almost as an accident, a result of wine barrels that didn't make the final blend: juice with nowhere to go. 'You cover the flaws. You aromatise it, sweeten it, fortify it,' Petroski says. His own version of ‘when life gives you lemons’…

'I then started to build this picture of myself as the guy who knew everything about aromatising alcohol beverages,' he says.

An earnest vision. But Petroski hadn't fully anticipated how separate the concert halls were. Wine, beer and spirits, it turns out, don't share the same road to the consumer.

At the time, managing three distribution networks proved one too many for a producer like Massican. The vermouth program ended in 2022. The beer and the gin did, too.

Since then, the brand has been acquired by Gallo (2023), and the infrastructure roadblock may no longer exist, so Petroski hasn't ruled out a return: 'I love the idea of doing it again,' he says – especially now, as 'the world is drinking slightly differently'.

Vermouth, however, remains very much alive at Matthiasson Wines in Napa Valley, where Steve and Jill Matthiasson have produced their farmhouse-style version since 2011 — now distributed across the US and exported to several countries, with Japan as its largest market.

While the couple had long been fascinated by apéritifs, their vermouth also began with a wine that fermented too far. Instead of discarding it, they transformed it using botanicals, fruit and bitters grown on their property.

In many ways, it feels connected to how they think about farming and wine — just another way of telling the same story.

Whiskey and wine

At Jackson Family Wines, which owns dozens of wineries and operates its own distribution channel, the infrastructure problem doesn't exist.

With Regal, one of California's largest wine distributors – an unusual position in a system designed to keep producers and distributors apart – the company operates on both tiers.

'Having the ability to represent high-quality spirits does serve a commercial or strategic purpose,' says Christopher Jackson of Stonestreet Wines in Healdsburg, Sonoma County, which produces Stonestreet Bourbon within the Jackson Family portfolio. 'I think it's smart to talk to the consumer across multiple different beverage platforms.'

The company released two bourbons in the past two years: Stonestreet, in 2024, which it sees as a more accessible whiskey, and Mt Brave in 2025: a cask-strength, vintage-dated expression made with collectors in mind.

For Mt Brave in Napa’s Mt Veeder, winemaker Chris Carpenter approaches whiskey blending the same way he does his wines.

‘A lot of the blending is layering flavours so none are lost, but they accentuate one another,’ Carpenter says.

‘When I'm matching different wine lots to the barrels, I’m thinking about how that barrel is going to contribute to the expression of wine. I'm thinking about those same things when I'm putting these whiskeys together.’

There's a longer game, by design, being played about how credibility travels in both directions here: a wine drinker who trusts Carpenter's palate has a reason to try the bourbon, while a bourbon drinker who respects the whiskey might feel compelled to try the wines.

Blurring boundaries

Tequila, too, has begun attracting the attention of prominent winemakers.

Bordelais consultant Philippe Melka recently released the first batch of a new tequila project, Felicente, in partnership with Vincent Garry, a veteran in the barrel business, after becoming fascinated by what he describes as a moment in the category that reminded him of California wine in the 1990s: smaller producers experimenting, challenging industrial styles, and trying to redefine quality.

Still in its early stages, the project focuses on organically farmed, high-elevation agave and uses winemaking techniques to produce three styles of tequila, currently distributed across Nevada, Arizona, Georgia, Texas, and California, with plans to expand starting next year.

It’s another sign of how fluid the boundaries between premium beverage categories have become.

Learning curves

But not every beyond-wine project is driven by commercial strategy. In a more modest way, Jamie Kutch added a new line to his Kutch Wines portfolio to address a byproduct problem: wine lees that, if dumped carelessly, could poison rivers and streams.

'It clogs up and kills the fish,' he says. 'This is a sustainable way to use them.'

Kutch distills a brandy from Pinot Noir lees, aged five years in neutral Chardonnay barrels. He makes just 90 bottles a year, sold out each release, including for at least one customer who has never bought his wine.

Winemakers usually don't set out to be anything other than winemakers, and most consumers don't turn to a winery looking for anything other than wine either.

But when something else appears, it often carries the same level of care – sometimes more – than most standalone products across other beverage categories.

Winemaking standards don't end with grapes. And it turns out the exchange goes both ways. 'Every time I'm in a new project, I learn something that I bring back to my primary project,' says Chris Carpenter.

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