It’s a cool September afternoon in the Loire Valley, France, where the crisp air signals the arrival of autumn. The year is 1518 and the young King Francis I is celebrating his 24th birthday at his beloved Chateau Royal d’Amboise, a medieval fortress turned royal residence. Sitting on his throne in the Council Room, the King watches in astonishment as a mechanical lion moves across the room, gazing at guests as it passes. The lion stops at the King’s feet, opens its chest, and reveals a bouquet of lilies. The room falls silent. King Francis I rises, laughing and applauding with delight, as the gathered court joins in. His Renaissance genius, Leonardo da Vinci, had once again amazed him. Appointed as “The King’s First Painter, Engineer, and Architect,” da Vinci was the perfect companion for the young King’s vision of a culturally rich kingdom.
As day turns to night, a magnificent royal feast unfolds. Yet, it is dessert that captivates the assembled guests. A servant presents a bowl brimming with the King’s favorite treat: small, golden-colored, sweet, plump grapes. King Francis pops a few into his mouth and smiles with delight. Though these grapes might typically be reserved for wine, he prefers them fresh, sparking a trend. Little did the King know, his preference would cement his place in history as the originator of the table grape. But the history of the grape stretches far beyond his time and the Loire Valley.
Grapes, belonging to the Vitis genus, have existed for at least 66 million years. The species Vitis vinifera, responsible for most of the world’s grape varieties, is thought to have originated in the Caucasus region, an area that spans across Eastern Europe and Western Asia. It was here in 6000 BCE, around the same time pottery was developed, that people began cultivating grapes, a practice we now call viticulture. In fact, some historians even suggest that Noah, as described in scripture, planted his vineyard in modern-day Armenia after his ark washed up on Mount Ararat. Whether or not one believes this tale, the region holds a strong claim to winemaking history. In 2010, a team of researchers discovered a drinking bowl, a grape press, a cup, and fermentation jars dating to about 6,100 years ago in the caves of Areni in Armenia.
By 3000 BCE, grapes found their way out of the Caucasus region and into the Mediterranean, reaching the Nile Delta area where the Phoenicians and ancient Egyptians fell in love with wine. In fact, it was their incredible demand for the fermented beverage that led to the establishment of vineyards closer to home, providing easier access and control over production. Grapes became deeply embedded in Egyptian culture and beliefs. Vineyards were planted across the kingdom. Even temples had their own vineyards to ensure that wine would be available for both offerings to the gods and for drinking. However, domestic vineyards alone couldn’t satisfy Egypt’s thirst for wine. A fresco in an 18th dynasty Egyptian tomb depicts seven Phoenician merchant ships anchored at an Egyptian port to sell their goods, including the distinctive Canaanite wine jars used for importing wine.
While the Phoenicians, a seafaring civilization known for their extensive trade networks, supplied the Egyptian market with grapes, they also had other customers. By 2000 BCE, the Greeks were introduced to the joys of wine and by 1500 BCE grapevines had found their way to mainland Greece. Over the next thousand years, the vines spread across the Mediterranean region as Greek and Phoenician settlers established colonies reaching as far as the Iberian Peninsula (modern-day Spain and Portugal). Like the Egyptians before them, the Greeks held wine and grapes in high regard, making them central themes in poetry, art, and religion. The Greek god Dionysus, one of the earliest gods in mainland Greek culture, was revered as the god of grape harvest and winemaking. However, wine remained a luxury enjoyed primarily by the upper classes, not an everyday drink for ordinary people — that is until the Romans arrived on the scene.
With the Romans, wine became accessible to all, not just the elite. Cities such as Pompeii had bars and most of its streets catered wine to the masses. Slaves and lower classes had access to what was wine vinegar diluted in water called Posca. At its peak, a Roman citizen consumed one bottle of wine per day, or 47 million gallons annually. The Romans were enjoying wine, and so as their empire expanded so did worldwide trade in the beverage. Grapes and wine became so integral to the Roman diet that they planted vineyards in their forts along the Rhine Valley (southwestern Germany) while fighting the Franks and Visigoths. In fact, if you trace the modern wine regions of Germany, you can see the outline of Roman expansion into the region nearly two thousand years ago.
Grapes, up until this point, have been on an upward trajectory but all of that comes to a screeching halt after the fall of the Roman Empire. Before the empire’s collapse, Christianity was the dominant religion and wine had gained a sacred role, especially during the sacrament of the Eucharist. As trade networks diminished across Europe in the Middle Ages, it was Christian monks who preserved the knowledge and practices of vineyard cultivation and winemaking. Monasteries had the resources, security, and motivation to produce a steady supply of wine for both celebrating mass and generating income. The Catholic Church became an unlikely steward of viticulture, and as Christian Europeans later embarked on global colonization, they carried grapevines with them, planting vineyards in the far reaches of the world.
By the 16th century, Spanish conquistadors landed in the Americas bringing European grape cultivation with them. Not long after, wine production spread widely across South America. The first winery in Chile was established by Spanish missionaries, who later ventured to Argentina, settling in the Mendoza region, and planting the area’s first grape varietals. In the 17th century, North America was introduced to European grape cultivation courtesy of the British, while Dutch colonists brought the vine to South Africa.
Grapes were not entirely unknown to the Americas. When the Vikings reached North America around 1000 CE, they named the area ‘Vinland,’ likely due to the abundance of grapes they found already growing in the wild. In fact, there is evidence that Indigenous Americans had been familiar with grapes for over ten thousand years, incorporating them into their diet and using the fruit and leaves for medicinal purposes, such as healing after childbirth, treating digestive issues, and aiding fertility. Some well-known American grape varieties include the Fox Grape, Summer Grape, and Riverbank Grape, all known for their distinctive “slip skin” — a slightly thicker skin that made them less ideal as table grapes but perfect for juices, jams, and jellies. That said, it didn’t prevent early European colonizers from attempting to produce wines using these wild grapes. Unfortunately, they quickly learned the quality was not to the standard they were used to.
While American grape varieties were not ideal for winemaking, some people, including prominent Virginians and founding fathers like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, refused to give up on the possibility of cultivating wine in the Americas. Wine played a significant role in Washington’s life, even during his presidency, and it is said that he would drink a bottle of Madeira a day until his death in 1799. It’s no surprise then that Washington imported Madeira grape cuttings to try to establish a vineyard at his Mount Vernon estate. Unfortunately, his efforts to cultivate the prized grapes were unsuccessful. He then turned to experimenting with native American grape varieties, but these too failed due to frosts and his absence during the Revolutionary War.
Meanwhile, Jefferson was also experimenting with planting grapevines at his estate in Monticello. Together with his friend Philip Mazzei, a Florentine merchant and horticulturalist who arrived in Virginia in 1773, Jefferson planted primarily European grapevines on Monticello’s south side. The pair found some early success in their cultivation efforts, but it was short-lived. A frost in May 1774 devastated many of the vines, and soon after, their work was interrupted by the Revolutionary War. Jefferson and Mazzei remained close throughout the revolution through correspondence—so much so that Jefferson gave Mazzei a draft copy of the Declaration of Independence. The draft included a phrase that appears to have been inspired by a passage that Mazzei had penned in the Virginia Gazette in 1774: “All men are created equal.”
While the young United States was finding its footing at the close of the 18th century, across the continent, a Spanish missionary named Junipero Serra traveled to San Diego where he established the state’s first mission and its first known vineyard. As Serra and his fellow monks developed missions up and down the coast, they planted the Mission grape—a varietal that was important to the Catholic Church for making sacramental wine. In fact, the Mission grape was the only varietal grown in California until the 1830s. After that, European settlers in Los Angeles added several other European varieties to their vineyards.
As grape plantings spread across the American continent into the mid-19th century, European winemakers—particularly the French—began to show increasing interest in American varietals. They wondered if these native grapes could be crossbred with European varieties to create new wine types. As imports from America to Europe increased, grapes were not the only thing that French winemakers received. A tiny aphid, known as phylloxera, also came along for the ride and unknowingly set the stage for a crisis that would transform the entire European grape industry.
While American grapes evolved alongside phylloxera and developed some resistance, the Old World vines of Europe were completely defenseless against the pest. Starting in the 1860s, the pest devastated the European wine industry for two long decades, destroying between forty and fifty percent of French vines. But the damage didn’t stop there. With global trade on the rise, the pest hitchhiked across the world destroying Old World vines everywhere it landed including South Africa, New Zealand, Australia, and even California, where the infant wine industry relied heavily on imported grapes.
Fortunately, a solution was found and implemented by 1873 based on a theory developed by Missouri’s state entomologist, Charles Valentine Riley. Riley observed that phylloxera in Missouri didn’t attack vines at their roots. He theorized that if Missouri rootstocks were grafted onto French vines, it could protect them from the pest. The theory proved successful, but celebrations were short-lived when it was discovered that Missouri rootstocks couldn’t withstand France’s chalky, alkaline soils. A decade later, Thomas Volney Munson, a horticulturalist in Texas, discovered that Texas rootstocks could also resist the phylloxera attacks but even more importantly could also handle the French soil. French wineries quickly began adding Texas rootstocks to their vines and the phylloxera threat gradually disappeared. While many proud French winemakers may not readily admit it, almost all of France’s (and the world’s) wine today has American roots.
As the world battled phylloxera, an Englishman named William Thompson emigrated to the United States in 1863 and settled in Sutter, CA. A vineyard owner by trade, Thompson was determined to plant seedless grapes. While our friend King Francis I had kicked off the trend of eating grapes fresh in the 1500s, most grapes in the 1800s were still grown for wine and raisins. As nearly all grapes were seeded at this time, removing the seeds was extremely time-consuming and costly when making raisins. In an effort to make raisin production more efficient, Thompson pursued his quest of planting seedless grapes. By 1875, he had acquired sultana grapes from a nursery in New York, thought to have originated from territories that now make up parts of modern Iran or Turkey, and successfully grafted them onto existing rootstock yielding fifty pounds of sweet, seedless grapes.
Thompson was not one to keep success to himself, and so, he readily shared his cuttings with other growers in the area. Before long, Thompson’s cuttings had spread throughout the Central Valley of California, and by 1920, the Thompson Seedless variety had replaced the seeded Muscat of Alexandria grape as the preferred raisin variety.
The Thompson Seedless had become the first commercialized seedless grape in the world, but that was just the beginning. Following the success of the seedless white grape, red seedless varieties were developed, and eventually, black seedless grapes emerged. From this point on, table grapes began to grow in popularity. But it was only in the past 20 years or so with advanced technology that seedless grapes have really taken off. With grape breeding programs and institutions competing to find the next best seedless grape variety, consumers today can enjoy a wide array of seedless table grape varieties grown all around the world.
With millions of years of history behind it, the table grape as we know it today is still in its early days. The story of this remarkable fruit is far from complete, with new varieties and developments continuing to shape its future. One can only imagine how delighted King Francis I would be to see the array of table grapes available now—especially the sweet Cotton Candy grapes that surely would have piqued his royal curiosity.
- John Paap is the Sustainability and Brand Marketing Manager at Jac. Vandenberg, Inc. and co-host of the “History of Fresh Produce” series on The Produce Industry Podcast.