A few years ago while driving in Sonoma County, Calif., Gina Schober and her husband, Jake Stover, had a discussion that led to a brainstorm.
They were talking about wine-loving friends who enjoyed hiking, bicycling and boating but did not want to be burdened by heavy bottles of wine and related paraphernalia on their outings. Unfortunately, their friends did not like beer.
Why not, the couple asked themselves, put fine wine in cans?
In 2016, Schober and Stover started Sans Wine Co., dedicated to making good California wine and putting it into convenient, lightweight cans, the sort of containers that would be easy to take to the beach or on a hike.
They were well-positioned to take on the challenge. Stover was a vineyard manager who had made wine and had the connections necessary to find desirable vineyards with available grapes. Schober, who works for a wine brokerage, knew how to market and sell wine.
And so, Sans Wine joined the nascent but fast-growing category of canned wines. While many of the early canned wines were made of unknown grapes from dubious origins, pitched at people who were intimidated by wine culture, Sans’ twist is selling single-vineyard, organically grown varietal wines, made as naturally as possible, expressly for people who love wine.
These wines do not require that wine cellars be configured to store cans for years of aging. They are simply satisfying in exactly the way they ought to be, to take advantage of the container’s benefits — fresh, thirst-quenching and delicious.
“Just because it’s in a can, doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be good,” Schober said. “We wanted to put wines that we would want to drink in cans.”
Wine in cans accounted for $70 million in retail sales in the United States over the year ending in March, said Danny Brager, a senior vice president of the Nielsen Co., which tracks sales. That’s up from $42 million in the previous year and less than $10 million three years earlier.
“Canned wines continue to grow at phenomenal levels, even accelerating into the most current periods,” Brager said. “At the same time, they still represent a relatively small proportion of wines, with just a 0.4 percent share.”
Cans have advantages over bottles. They are portable and lightweight, and can be used where glass is not appropriate: at pools, beaches, rock concerts and sporting events, and on the sort of backpacking trips that inspired the Sans Wine founders.
They are kinder to the environment than glass: easier to recycle, lighter to ship and requiring fewer packing materials.
The Sans wines come in 375-milliliter cans, about the size of a 12-ounce beer and the equivalent of a half-bottle of wine. Most canned wines are either 375 milliliters or 250 milliliters (the size of a can of Red Bull). While the 375s can be sold individually, the federal government prohibits individual sales of the 250-milliliter cans, requiring that they be sold in four-packs.
Until people get used to wine in cans, we would suggest proceeding cautiously, as the long psychological association of the 12-ounce beer can with a single serving might prompt some drinkers to unthinkingly down a couple of cans of wine — with regrettable results.
Sans Wine (https://sans-wine-co.myshopify.com/) is intended for wine geeks, the people who care that the wines are fermented with indigenous yeast rather than inoculated with commercial yeast, and that they are stabilized with minimum, if any, sulfur dioxide, which is nearly universally used in the wine world.
They are not yet available everywhere, but I was able to try samples of the six wines Sans made from the 2017 vintage.
My favorites included McGill Vineyard riesling from 60-year-old vines in Rutherford in Napa Valley, which was dry, resonant and lip-smacking, and Carbonic Carignan from Mendocino County, produced using the carbonic-maceration method, common in Beaujolais and with numerous natural wines. It was fresh, floral, bright and lightly tannic.
The riesling and the carignan are both priced at $15; the $25 for a can of 2017 Napa cabernet — floral, fruity and easygoing — might cause double takes.
Stover justified it in the context of Napa Valley. “For single-vineyard, organic Napa cab, you’re looking at $100 on the shelf,” he said. “We’re offering a great value, considering.”
Perhaps the biggest leap in cans, and an unqualified success, comes from Jordan Salcito, a sommelier turned wine entrepreneur, who has reimagined the canned wine cooler.
Salcito, who is not a beer lover, fantasized about products that she could drink at parties while others were enjoying beers, something reminiscent of Aperol spritzes in “cute little bottles.” But in a period of professional frustration with the fine-wine culture, she hit on once-déclassé wine coolers, made with organic wines from Italy blended with organic grape juice as a sweetener.
The idea coincided with pregnancy and motherhood, which pushed her to consider the environmental aspects of the packaging. And so Ramona, named for an imaginary childhood friend of her younger sister, was born.
The first batch was produced in October 2017. It is now distributed in 43 states and Canada, in England and Ireland and in Singapore.
It’s available in grapefruit, lemon and blood orange. Ramona (https://drinkramona.com/) is 7 percent alcohol, and costs $20 for a four-pack. It’s absolutely delightful.