"The first whiff nearly knocked me off my feet. I was standing on a rickety metal ladder leaning against one of the large fermentation vats in the space -- really not much more than oversized garage -- where Ron Barrett makes his wine. This particular vat held the soupy misture of riesling grapes he had just harvested. Truth be told, it didn't look much like wine, more like a huge cylinder of beer, the surface covered with a froth of yeasty bubbles masking a dull yellow-gold glow coming from the liquid underneath. At this stage, the scent of fermenting grapes packs a wallop. "Don't breathe too deep now, we wouldn't want you to pass out," Ron sad. I took another whiff. Yep -- strong. Not nostril-searing but thick enough to make you turn your head away for air. Still, even with my untrained nose, I could catch a faint trace of what this would eventually become: the latest vintage of a golden, zippy, and wonderfully refined riesling from Kinkead Ridge winery.

Cincinnati has a great history as a beer-making city, but did you know this stretch of the Ohio River valley was once one of the biggest grape producing parts of the country? That was way back in the 19th century, and yes, a lot of those grapes were used to make grape juice and jelly. But wine was made, too. Over the last few decades, a small but dedicated cadre of vintners have reclaimed hillsides and fields in both Ohio and Kentucky and planted grape vines. And some of them are making darn good wine.

If that sounds outlandish to you, it shouldn't. Ask any upstanding wine shop owner (if you turn to our overflowing Wine Lover's Guide on page 92, you'll see we have no shortage of them) and they'll be happy to direct you to a host of enthusiastic and undeniably assured local producers: Burnet Ridge, Henke, Harmony Hill, Chateau Pomije, StoneBrook, Valley Vineyards, Elk Creek, Kinkead Ridge. And that's just the tip of the barrel. Wine -- drinking it, making it, studying it -- has become something of an obsession over the last couple of decades, and the mini-explosion of wineries, tasting rooms, wine bars, vineyards, and merchants in and around Cincinnati is a bright cultural indicator. Here's another one: After working for years at Chehalem Valley Vineyards in Oregon growing pinot noir, Ron Barrett studied the geology of a number of winemaking regions across the nation and chose to stake his claim on the hills overlooking Ripley, Ohio. Why? As he tells Brent Donaldson in this issue, for one particularly good reason: "World class grape soil." The day I stopped in to sniff his wine, Barrett told me he thinks there's more of it on the Kentucky side of the river. Gentlemen, start your wine presses.

Still feeling a little dubious about good wine being made in this part of the country? Then crack open a bottle of Ron Barrett's riesling -- or better yet, his 2004 cabernet franc (if you're lucky enough to find a bottle). there's the proof."