My name is Dan O’Brien. I am not from California. I don’t own a vineyard or a winery. I am not backed by family land or inherited wealth. I grew up in Rhode Island, shoveling my driveway and helping my old Italian neighbor rack his homemade “chianti.” By high school, I was building case stacks of Carlo Rossi at the local package store. During college, I spent my nights shucking oysters and tending bar at restaurants in downtown Providence.
I worked my way up through the hospitality industry, eventually becoming a sommelier at one of Boston’s best restaurants. From there, I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, where I opened a luxury hotel and built the wine list for its Michelin-starred restaurant. I even ran the operations for one of Napa Valley’s oldest vineyard estates. Through all these experiences, one thing remained constant. I wanted to make my own wines, wines that are both respectable and approachable.
But before any of that, just weeks before I moved to California, my mother suddenly passed away. I feel lucky to have even known her. Making these wines is my way of celebrating her life.
Today, I live in Sonoma Valley, with my wife, Alison, and our dog, Alma. Our community is everything—farmers, winemakers, distillers, chefs, restaurateurs, and small business owners—people who pour themselves into what they do. We gather often, and when we do, it’s around my mother’s table—the same table where I grew up doing my homework. Now, we fill it with food, wine, and friends—my quiet way of still having dinner with her.
