Geoffrey Finch, The Hidden Vineyards of Paris (Board and Bench, 2023).

Urban wineries aren’t surprising anymore. It is not that difficult to truck in grapes and other supplies to make (and then sell) wine in the heart of a busy city. City wineries are not as ubiquitous as local craft breweries, but they aren’t hard to find. If you go to Paris, for example, you’ll find a winery on the first floor of the Eifel Tower.

Urban vineyards are a different matter. Cities, by their very nature, are filled up and built over, with what open land that remains after urbanization devoted to parks, playgrounds, and so forth. A vineyard? That would be a surprise.

But of course, cities have not always looked and operated as they do today. Before the advent of cheap and secure transport, for example, cities had to be much more self-sufficient than they are today. Food could not cheaply and reliably come from far away, so local sourcing was vital. This was especially true for wine in Europe because of its central place in diet, culture, and economy.

You can find remnants of the old vineyards if you look for them. In Venice, for example, the Venissa vineyard is a short vaporetto ride from St Mark’s Square. It’s a different side of Venice, serene like the city itself (La Serrenisima) once was.  Sue and I love the vineyard and the hotel and restaurant that the Bisol family has developed.

But wait … there’s more! If you know where to look in Milan you can find the evidence of Leonardo’s personal vineyard reconstructed, according to Professor Scienza, using DNA analysis. Add that to your bucket list!

I was amazed to discover that Paris was once the center of the largest vineyard area in France and the world. This makes sense, however, since the city’s large population required wine, and the local environment was well-suited to grape farming. Parisian vineyards declined slowly and then suddenly, however, due to a number of forces including especially the arrival of the train, which delivered quantities of wines that were better than the local ones (from Burgundy and Bordeaux) or much cheaper (from Langudeoc and eventually Algeria, too).

Parisian vineyards declined but did not entirely disappear. You have to look closely to find them, however, which is what Geoffrey Finch has been doing for over 40 years. His new book is a slim volume packed with insights, information, and colorful illustrations that tell the story of grapes, wine, and Paris.

Finch guides us through vineyards that are used to produce wine, vineyards that don’t yield wine but serve other purposes, and isolated vines too random to be called vineyards but that tell interesting stories. Even the largest of these vineyards is small by the standards of Bordeaux or even Burgundy, but size isn’t the point here. Rather they are a chance to encounter the history of Paris and wine and, if you are lucky, have a taste, too.

We have visited Paris several times, but have never been to Clos Montmartre, the largest vineyards and the only one with commercially available wine. There is even a community wine festival. It’s on our list for the next Paris expedition.

It would be great to visit these vineyards with Finch on one of his tours and to hear his stories in person, but reading The Hidden Vineyards of Paris must be the next best thing because of his distinct sensibility, insatiable curiosity, and obvious fascination with Parisian history. Each vineyard (or individual vine in some cases) has a history that is specific to its subject and also reflective of Paris more generally. Each is a pleasure to read and appreciate.

Taken together, the vineyards and their biographies give a rich sense of what Paris is, has been, and perhaps might be again. The Hidden Vineyards of Paris is informative, entertaining, and well-written. Highly recommended.b