Still Crushing It in Napa: Ernie Weir’s Five Decades in Wine
- adam029
- Mar 17
- 8 min read
Updated: Mar 21
By Joshua E. London

For over 50 years, Ernie Weir has been a quiet force in Napa Valley winemaking. Now, as he approaches his 52nd vintage in the Napa Valley, his influence remains as strong as ever. As the founder and winemaker of the award-winning Hagafen Cellars, he helped redefine kosher wine, proving that it can be world-class. But beyond the labels and accolades, Weir is a man with a deep love for viticulture, a connection to Israel, and a perspective shaped by decades in the industry.

In this interview, conducted over several conversations and abridged for space consideration, Weir reflects on his journey—from his upbringing in Los Angeles to his time at Domaine Chandon, the founding of Hagafen in 1979, and the challenges and triumphs of making great wine. He also speaks about his profound respect for nature and what the future holds for both him and his winery.
Ernie, it’s great to speak with you again. You’re coming up on your 52nd vintage in Napa Valley, which is an incredible milestone. But let’s start at the beginning. Where did you grow up?
I grew up in Los Angeles, in the San Fernando Valley. It was a pretty Jewish neighborhood, though we weren’t Orthodox. We were what you’d call Conservative, mainstream at the time. My surviving grandparents were Orthodox, but my parents had already taken a different path. Still, we were connected.
Your parents were Holocaust survivors, I understand.
Yes. My father was from Germany, my mother from Czechoslovakia. They met in New York after the war and eventually moved to California—the Goldena Medina, as they saw it. They built a life there, and that’s where I grew up.
What was your family life like? Any early connection to wine?
Not at all, other than wine on the table for kiddush. That was my role in the family, even as the youngest—I made kiddush. But otherwise, no. My father ran an automotive brake rebuilding business in Los Angeles. He wasn’t in the wine world at all.
Was wine ever part of the conversations at home?
No, but business was. I learned a lot about business just listening to my parents talk at the dinner table. That helped me later when I started my own winery. My father’s business had all Hispanic employees, and I remember one of them, a man who had been in the U.S. Army stationed in Germany, would speak to my father in German. It was incredible to see those kinds of cultural crossovers.
You studied sociology at UCLA, right? No science or agriculture at that point?
Right. My degree was in sociology. No formal science background at the time. But while I was there, I did a deep dive into studying the kibbutz movement. That research is what ultimately led me to Israel.
So, you finished your degree and went straight to Israel?
Yes, in 1973. I wanted to experience a kibbutz firsthand. I ended up at Kibbutz Ramat Yohanan [in northern Israel. Located near Kiryat Ata]. I had requested a kibbutz that grew grapes, but when I got there, they said, “Oh, we used to have grapes, but now we have chickens.” So, I worked with chickens! Gathered eggs, helped with the young birds going to the butcher—it was eye-opening. But the experience was bigger than that. It was about finding my connection to Israel and realizing that these were my people, just separated by geography and history.

So that year in Israel had a big impact on you?
Huge. It changed my life. I had studied Hebrew in college at UCLA—as a foreign language, which is funny to say—but being there made it real. I also met my wife [Irit], who’s Israeli. That deepened my connection even further.
When you came back to California, was winemaking already on your mind?
Not exactly. But I knew I wanted to move to Northern California. I had checked out Napa before I left for Israel, and when I got back, I decided to go there. I enrolled in the viticulture program at Napa College [Now Napa Valley College]. I had no background in it, so I started from scratch.
How did you get your foot in the door professionally?
I got a job at Domaine Chandon, a young French company just starting out in Napa. It was a great place to learn—almost like a think tank. I focused on viticulture and, more specifically, nursery management and vine propagation. We were planting hundreds of acres of vineyards, so I got hands-on experience right away.
And you eventually went back to school?
Yes. I asked Domaine Chandon if I could go back to university, and they supported it. John Wright, my boss at Chandon, was very supportive of my decision. I enrolled at UC Davis and got my degree in viticulture and enology. By that time, I was older and more serious about studying, which helped. I loved it.
What ultimately pushed you to start your own winery?
I wanted to be a wine grower, not just a grape grower. I wanted to see the whole process through, from the vineyard to the bottle. And I saw an opportunity—there was no highquality kosher wine in Napa. That was our niche. That’s how Hagafen Cellars was born.
And the name, Hagafen?
It comes from the blessing— borei pri hagafen. Wine is special in Jewish tradition. We sanctify with it. I wanted to create something that reflected that tradition while making wines that stood on their own as great Napa Valley wines. I also saw an opportunity to connect Jewish identity and ethnic pride to something that had been historically undervalued—kosher wine. At the time, kosher wine had a negative connotation. You had kosher pickles, kosher hot dogs, and those were seen as high quality, but kosher wine? It was seen as sweet, inferior, something to endure rather than enjoy. I wanted to change that perception and create something Jews could take pride in.
When did you first start seriously considering starting your own winery?
It was something that developed over time. At Domaine Chandon, I was fully immersed in vineyard work, but I started experimenting with winemaking on a small scale. The more I learned, the more I realized I wanted to oversee the entire process—from the vineyard all the way to the final bottle. That’s when I really started thinking about launching my own winery. I saw an opportunity to create something unique, something that connected my agricultural expertise with my personal identity.
You’ve spoken about the importance of having a niche in business. Was that part of your motivation to make kosher wine?
Absolutely. Any successful venture needs a clear identity, and I saw a major gap in the market. At the time, there was very little high-end kosher wine, especially not in Napa Valley. I knew that if I could produce wine at the level expected of a premium Napa label while also making it kosher, I could offer something unique. But beyond that, it was personal. Wine plays a fundamental role in Jewish life, and I wanted to elevate that experience.
Was there a particular moment when you knew it was time to take the leap and start Hagafen?
There wasn’t a single “aha” moment—it was more like a series of steps that made the decision inevitable. I started by making small batches of wine while still working at Domaine Chandon. As people started responding positively to the wine, I realized that this wasn’t just a passion project—it was something I could build into a sustainable business. By the early 1980s, it became clear that if I wanted to do this right, I had to go all in.

How did you fund the winery in those early days?
It was a combination of personal investment, family backing and outside investors. One key figure was René di Rosa, a well-respected vineyard owner and art collector who was deeply embedded in the Napa wine community. He saw potential in what I was doing and invested in Hagafen for a time. We also took a very strategic, gradual approach—making sure we could grow sustainably rather than taking on too much too fast.
Was it difficult to get people in Napa to take a kosher winery seriously?
Initially, there was skepticism. But in Napa, everything comes down to quality. I never marketed Hagafen as just a kosher winery—I positioned it as a premium Napa winery that also happened to be kosher. That approach made all the difference. Once people tasted the wine, they understood what we were about.
Who were some of the key people who helped you in those early years?
Aside from René di Rosa, I had guidance from mentors like Darrell Corti, who played a major role in shaping the California wine market. Gino Zeponi, my colleague from Domaine Chandon, was also a big influence—he helped me bridge the gap between viticulture and winemaking. And of course, my wife has been my greatest supporter from the very beginning.
Let’s talk about your approach to viticulture. What philosophy has guided you as you built Hagafen?
My philosophy is that everything starts in the vineyard. A great wine isn’t made in the cellar—it’s made in the soil, in the way the vines are cared for. Since my background was in viticulture, I always prioritized sustainable and organic farming methods. We were implementing organic practices before they became widely popular. Healthy vines produce superior fruit, and superior fruit makes better wine—it’s a straightforward equation.
What made you commit to sustainable and organic farming?
Part of it was environmental responsibility, but a big part of it was quality. I saw early on that thoughtful farming resulted in better fruit, which meant better wine. Also, this isn’t just a business for me—it’s something I’m deeply connected to. The land provides, and I feel an obligation to take care of it for future generations.
What was your first vintage like?
A mix of excitement, exhaustion and uncertainty. We were making small amounts of wine and handling every aspect ourselves. There was this constant question in my mind: Would people embrace what we were trying to do? But as soon as the first bottles started reaching customers and we got positive feedback, I knew we had something worth pursuing.
How did you navigate the challenge of making kosher wine that met halachic standards but also aligned with the high expectations of Napa winemaking?
That was one of the biggest challenges. The requirements for kosher wine meant adapting some processes, but I was determined that those adaptations wouldn’t compromise quality. One of the major hurdles was mevushal wine—figuring out when to apply heat treatment and how to do it in a way that didn’t negatively affect the wine’s complexity and balance. It took a lot of experimentation, but we found a system that worked.
Hagafen wines have been served at the White House multiple times. How did that first happen?
It was a combination of reputation and connections. Darrell Corti and David Berkley, both highly respected in the wine world, had ties to the Reagan administration. Through them, our wine made it to the White House. The first time I heard that our wine was being poured at a state dinner, it was surreal. Over the years, different administrations continued to serve Hagafen, which has been a great honor.
Looking back at those early years, what was the biggest challenge in starting Hagafen?
The unpredictability. Making wine is one thing, but running a winery as a business is a completely different challenge. There were times when market conditions were tough, and we had to be creative to stay afloat. But we believed in what we were doing, and that kept us going.
And what was the most rewarding part?
Hearing from people who appreciated what we were creating. When customers told me they finally had a kosher wine they could proudly share at a special occasion, that made it all worthwhile. Wine is about bringing people together, about celebrating life. Knowing that Hagafen could be part of that for so many people has been deeply fulfilling.

Looking ahead, where do you see Hagafen in the next 10 years?
We’ll keep doing what we do best—making great wines that people love. But we’ll also stay adaptable. The market is changing, and we have to change with it. I see us continuing to refine our portfolio, focusing on what we do best, and deepening our direct relationships with consumers.
Any final thoughts on the future of Napa, kosher wine or the industry as a whole?
It’s always evolving. The key is to stay committed to quality and authenticity. Trends come and go, but good wine—made with care and integrity—always finds an audience. That’s what I believe, and that’s what we’ll keep doing at Hagafen.
Ernie Weir is not a man of grand pronouncements. He speaks aboutwine the way a seasoned vintner tends to his vines—with patience, care and a quiet confidence that the work will bear fruit. In an industry that constantly reinvents itself, Weir has stayed the course, proving that tradition and innovation are not mutually exclusive, and that kosher wine can be as good as any wine; it just happens to be kosher. As he looks toward his next vintage, one thing is certain—he’s not done yet.
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