It’s a perfect autumn afternoon in the folds of the Gaspereau Valley. The sun glints off rows of vineyards turning shades of crimson and ochre. The gushing Gaspereau River that empties into the belly of the Minas Basin is the calming soundtrack. A scent of burning wood and damp earth hangs in the air, and I’m sipping a crisp, pale gold Benjamin Bridge Riesling. The connection between this land and the wine in my hand is evident, encapsulating all that I know about terroir.
Terroir, in the traditional definition as it applies to wine, is a French word translated as soil. In the larger context, terroir is the specificity of place, which goes beyond the soil. It’s every aspect that goes into differentiating one vineyard from another. Climate, rainfall, microbes, slope, elevation: anything that explicitly shapes a grape’s characteristics. Understanding a wine’s terroir helps us, as wine drinkers, tell wines apart.
But for Benjamin Bridge winemaker Jean-Benoit Deslauriers, something was missing from the definition. “Terroir is the sum of many parts. It’s composed of an entire ecosystem, and its unique signature is conveyed by a sensory experience. As an all-encompassing ensemble, it points to a place and reveals its identity,” explains Deslauriers.
“We knew an entire history existed here before we started making wine,” he continues. “The Mi’kmaw people have been symbiotically part of the environment where our grapes are grown. It would be arrogant to postulate that it took the planting of European grape varieties (and subsequent winemaking) for the identity of the Gaspereau Valley to be revealed. Clearly, the notion of terroir must extend beyond the sensory experience of wine.”
Considering wine’s focus on place, ecosystem, and community, Deslauriers felt it was ironic he knew so little about the history of the land that now houses Benjamin Bridge Winery. He turned to long-time friend Zabrina Whitman from Glooscap First Nation to find a way to learn more and start a conversation around terroir, heritage, and collaboration.
“I’m the daughter of a horticulturist and the granddaughter of a farmer. Agriculture and supporting our local farm industry is important to me. At the same time, I’ve been raised with strong Mi’kmaw values, like reciprocity and community,” says Whitman. “There is so much beauty in our culture that everyone must learn about and understand. Jean-Benoit and I share that. We recognized that the conversations about food and wine often focused on local, but absent from it was the Mi’kmaq. So, from that foundation, we started brainstorming, and Beyond Terroir evolved.”
That was five years ago. What evolved from the brainstorming was a series of events, where invited guests were steeped in local food and wine, woven together by Mi’kmaw culture and storytelling called Beyond Terroir. A series of culinary stations were set up in different corners of the vineyards, with the recipes created by Benjamin Bridge Chef Kyla Welton and prepared by NSCC culinary students, paired alongside Benjamin Bridge wines.
As diners gathered around fireplaces to eat at each station, Mi’kmaw knowledge holders imparted stories based on the year’s theme around land stewardship, sustainability, and conservation. And where the Mi’kmaw word, Netukulimk, as it pertains to the use of natural resources to ensure prosperity for future generations, was at the core. The relationship between people and land that is integral to Mi’kmaw beliefs resonated with wine lovers.
“It’s everything I believe in,” says Whitman. “It’s about coming together and learning from each other, and it’s founded on a Mi’kmaw word, msit no’kmaq, meaning we’re all related. Everyone who participates and donates to Beyond Terroir believes in these same values. And everyone is so humble. We do it because we want to invest in the well-being and holistic success of Glooscap. In a society where money dominates, it’s remarkable to see an experience that is the antithesis of this.”
Benjamin Bridge and Glooscap First Nations developed a collaborative wine over two vintages as part of the Beyond Terroir concept. The wine is a classic Provençal-style rosé, and Deslauriers and Whitman, plus other senior members of the Glooscap council, including wine aficionado Chief Sidney Peters, collaborated, paying careful attention to every aspect of the wine from varietal selection to label design.
“On label design elements, we tried to consider First Nations in the whole design, incorporating deep reds and soft blues reflected in the Bay of Fundy. We also specifically wanted something with low sugar. Diabetes is high in our communities, and so often, diabetics cannot drink wine unless they’re dry. These small details that went into the wine make it special,” says Whitman.
The wine is made from a blend of pinot gris, gamay, riesling, and ortega grapes grown in vineyards along the Sikunme’katik (Gaspereau River) and located in Kepukwitik, one of the seven districts of Mi’kma’ki, the traditional land of the Mi’kmaq. The 2022 vintage, available now, is a pale salmon-pink coloured wine with a refreshing, crisp palette. The result is a wine that exhibits its unique environment and represents its heritage.
“One could argue the wine was never central to this project as a cultural learning opportunity,” says Deslauriers. “We made it a point for the wine to remain a modest, effaced, and optional touch. But, as a commercial winery with a presence in our community, our resources and platform cannot be dissociated from our wines. In that regard, I think the primary role of our wines would have been as a facilitator of visibility. Beyond that, our wines also contributed to the sensory experience of our guests as curated pairings to the traditional culinary creations, a cultural fusion capturing the spirit of our allyship.”
One lesson that particularly stood out for Deslauriers was a perspective on the immense scope of the Mi’kmaw presence on the land. “The Mi’kmaq have been present in the Gaspereau Valley for at least 13,000 years. Countless aspects of Maritime culture have roots in Mi’kmaw culture, but often appropriated or under a colonial veil, impossible to remove without interest or opportunities to connect with traditional knowledge,” says Deslauriers.
Too often, winery narratives about the terroir and history of wine are told from the producer’s perspective. When overlooking the past, the wine industry loses valuable and intrinsic knowledge that defines a true sense of place. With this wine, storytelling has resonated, and wine buyers and drinkers have joined Benjamin Bridge on a journey to a better understanding that we are all guardians of this ancient land. And if Nova Scotian wine is going to reflect its true terroir, it must involve First Nations.
“Reconciliation means listening to Mi’kmaw and Indigenous voices. We know what healing means for our people,” says Whitman. “Our ways not only have value for us, but we also have a lot to teach others how to live life more respectfully and balanced.”
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