New recipes

The Truth About Trump Winery

The Truth About Trump Winery


We are searching data for your request:

Forums and discussions:
Manuals and reference books:
Data from registers:
Wait the end of the search in all databases.
Upon completion, a link will appear to access the found materials.

Presidential hopeful (and, to many of us, hope-not) Donald Trump served several Trump-branded wines from Virginia in March at a conference in Jupiter, Florida. Shortly thereafter, President Obama, speaking at a Democratic fundraiser, dissed the stuff. "Has anybody bought that wine?" he asked. "I mean, come on. You know that's like some five-dollar wine. They charge you $50 and say it's the greatest wine ever."

Are Trump wines really five-buck muck? No, not really. And they have an interesting story behind them — one that Donald Trump probably won't tell you, because he doesn't seem to have the details down.

I know something about these wines, or at least their predecessors, because I was in on their birth, in a minor way. In 1999, a friend of mine in the PR business asked me if I'd be interested in consulting on a new winery project near Charlottesville, Virginia. I had a small business on the side at the time, advising hotels and resort properties on their food and beverage service, and since I had also written extensively about wine — and the winery being planned was eventually to include a hotel and some restaurants — it didn't seem like too much of a stretch, so I said yes.

The person behind the project was Patricia Kluge, ex-wife of Metromedia founder John Kluge, at one time ranked as the world's richest man. Her divorce settlement is said to have amounted to about $100 million, in addition to several properties — among them an art- and antique-filled 45-room mansion on a couple of hundred acres of prime Albemarle County land. Her collection was amazing; as she and I walked together down a long hallway lined with ancient Greek red-figure vases, on the first of my several visits to her property, she nodded towards the museum-quality artifacts and volunteered, "Yes, they're real" — as if worried that I'd think they were cheap copies.

It turned out, though, that Kluge had ambitions far beyond being a mere chatelaine.

Though born in Iraq to an English father and a half-Iraqi mother, and a resident of London before moving to the U.S., Kluge had developed a great affection for Virginia (which extended to a very close friendship with Douglas Wilder, the state's first black governor), and had an ambitious vision for her portion of it. Believing that tobacco, one of Virginia's most important crops, was on the way out, she wanted (as she told me in one of our first conversations) to make the state "the Champagne capital of America." I pointed out that the premium sparkling wine business in this country was moving away from labeling their output as "Champagne" and also that no one had, till then at least, had much success with sparkling wine in Virginia.

This scarcely mattered to her, and, anyway, her plans went far beyond just something in a bottle. On 1,300 acres of land adjacent to her estate, near Thomas Jefferson's Monticello plantation, she envisioned an "exquisite winery" designed by the classicist architect and interior designer David Easton; a country store and bakery; a raw bar and barbecue restaurant; and a "grand country inn." The plans later expanded to include not one but two wineries (one exclusively for the sparklers), an Asian fusion restaurant and/or a Mongolian hotpot place, an American restaurant, an elegant French restaurant, and not one hotel but two — a modest B&B and a luxury inn. Then there was Vineyard Estates, conceived as a gated community of multi-million-dollar homes on lots of five acres or more surrounded by vineyards and woodlands.

Other than advising her not to go off in too many directions at once (and questioning whether she'd be able to obtain the necessary permits for that kind of development in this rural setting), I couldn't help with most of this. I did, however, put Kluge in touch with good people to consult with about the country store and bakery — and suggested that she bring on Gabriele Rausse as her winemaker. Rausse is a legendary character in the Virginia wine industry, an Italian who first came to the state to work for the massive Italian wine firm Zonin at their Barboursville Winery. He became fascinated by Jefferson's (failed) attempts to grow European wine grapes, and eventually became Director of Gardens and Grounds at Monticello, where he was able to make the kinds of wines our third president could only dream of. (Rausse still holds that position, and also makes good wine at his own Gabriele Rausse Winery.)

Kluge didn't know much about wine at first — she suggested adding a bit of bourbon to her sparkling wine to make it "more American;" she seemed to think that the liqueur de tirage, the mixture of yeast and sugar (and sometimes wine) added to Champagne-method sparklers to induce secondary fermentation, was liqueur in the sense of a sweet after-dinner drink — but she knew enough to hire people who did, and she learned fast.

Rausse was her first advisor, recommending, among other things, that she plant cabernet franc, which ripens earlier than cabernet sauvignon, for her red wine blend, and later actually blending samples of the first red for her once the vines started producing. Next, she brought on Emmanuel Fourny of the respected Veuve Fourny Champagne house to advise on the sparkling wine. Michel Rolland, the highly influential Bordeaux-based "flying winemaker," joined the enterprise, too, and supervised the planting of new vineyards and the modification of others and told Kluge to harvest later than she had planned. He also convinced her to make some pricey improvements to the winery, including buying expensive French barrels from numerous specific sources. (Robert Mondavi and his sons counseled Kluge for a time, as well.)

My tenuous association with Kluge came to an end, amicably, shortly before she made her first commercial wine — a 2001 New World Red, a Bordeaux-inspired blend of cabernet sauvignon, merlot, cabernet franc, and a bit of malbec. I was frankly leery of tasting it when it was released a couple of years later, but it turned out to be nice enough, a soft, well-rounded specimen with plenty of fruit and a ripe berry finish, not bad for first time out. The winery's subsequent vintages, including several whites and sparkling wines as well as reds, were all credible at the least and sometimes actually pretty good — though nothing you'd forsake California for. A nice start, though.

In 2000, Kluge had married former IBM executive William Moses, and he supported and collaborated on her efforts. Unfortunately, Kluge and Moses were so committed to their imagined wine-based empire that they took out huge loans and refinanced their estate (some reports estimate that they poured as much as $200 million into the winery, vineyards, and associated projects). They also found themselves producing more wine than they could sell. When the economy went south, their loans went into default. They were forced to auction off the art and antiques and to sell the mansion and its property (they moved into the single house that had actually been built in Vineyard Estates), and then to unload the winery and vineyards.

Enter consummate deal-maker (just ask him) Donald Trump, who had reportedly been introduced to Kluge and Moses by Kathie Lee Gifford. Though he is a lifelong teetotaler, Trump was apparently attracted by the gorgeous Kluge property and by the financial possibilities of the winery, and in 2011, managed to pick up both the estate and the adjacent wine operation at a fraction of their appraised worth. He reopened the latter six months later as Trump Winery (and later turned the house into a posh B&B).

The following year, Trump gave or sold the winery to his son Eric, who now runs the property. That fact aside, the elder Trump recently told CNN that "I own [the winery] 100 percent. No mortgage. No debt." (The winery's own website states that "Trump Winery…is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump…") But then he also proclaimed that John Kluge — not Patricia — established the winery and planted the vineyards (which, of course, is "one of the greatest vineyards of all time"). Apparently Trump has the same regard for factual accuracy when talking about wine as he does in other matters.

But back to Trump Winery's output being "some five-dollar wine." I hadn't tasted any bottlings from the property for years, until a few weeks ago, when a friend from Virginia brought me three bottles on a trip north. I sampled a 2009 Blanc de Blanc ($28), an all-chardonnay sparkler with some nice acidity and citrusy notes but a hint of a strangely oily character; a 2015 chardonnay ($48) that was pleasant enough though with a peach-and-honey character that recalled sauvignon blanc more than chardonnay; and a 2012 New World Reserve ($26), soft and smooth, with some nice fruit leading to a rather flabby finish.

In all, I'd say the wines were OK, though hardly the best Virginia has to offer. Overall, my feeling was one of disappointment: that Patricia Kluge's quixotic dream, which got off to a promising start — the winery part, at least — hadn't blossomed into a more consistently impressive reality. But "five-dollar wine?" Hardly.


Trump Wine Is Built on Acres of Lies

The GOP frontrunner’s claim that he owns ‘the largest winery on the East Coast’ is not true when it comes down to the amount of wine he makes.

Noah Rothbaum

Photographer: Grzegorz Krysmalski

While Donald Trump may be famous for his litany of ridiculous boasts and exaggerations, his latest claim to be a top winery owner—made during his speech after the Detroit and Mississippi primaries—may be one of his most laughable.

It’s certainly a perfect example of how The Donald seamlessly mixes truth with fiction to form a narrative that manages to sound plausible when delivered in 30-second sound bites.

Despite begging the assembled media to fact-check his statement about the financials of Trump Winery (what else would he call it?), Trump still made a few major mistakes in his description of the establishment.

For one, despite Trump avowing complete ownership of the business, Trump Winery’s site states that “Trump Winery is a registered trade name of Eric Trump Wine Manufacturing LLC, which is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates.”

That may explain why Trump Sr. was bit fuzzy about some of the winery’s details for example, he claimed the vineyard was “close to 2,000 acres,” while in fact Trump Winery’s own website states that it’s a 1,300-acre estate. And, no, the establishment is not located next to the “Thomas Jefferson Memorial.”

We will assume Trump was talking about Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home (not the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C.), which is actually several miles from his winery.

His most grandiose claim was that Trump Winery was the “largest winery on the East Coast.”

His 200 planted acres certainly make the winery sizable and the largest one in Virginia by property size. But when discussing the size of a wine or spirits brand, the yardstick is typically case sales, not acreage. (Would you measure an automaker’s size by the square footage of its plant or how many cars it sells?)

One reason for this is the size of the vineyard may not matter given that many wineries buy grapes instead of growing them. “The largest vineyard in Virginia? Maybe. The largest producer? No,” says Jerald O’Kennard the director of the Beverage Testing Institute, which reviews wines and runs wine competitions. “It’s just semantics.”

According to the Virginia Wine Board, Trump Winery is in fact not even the state’s top producer by volume—it falls in the top five. The state’s largest producers are Williamsburg Winery and Chateau Morrisette, which readily admits to buying grapes from a network of Virginia growers.

Trump also failed to give an accurate history of the vineyard. During the press conference he said that media mogul John Kluge “built one of the great vineyards of all time.”

As it turns out, it was really Kluge’s ex-wife, Patricia, who started the vineyard. You might excuse the mistake except that Patricia stayed on to make the wine after Trump bought the property.

It’s also hard to imagine why Trump would bring up his winery as an example of his business acumen given how well his eponymous vodka worked out.

In 2006, to great fanfare, he introduced Trump Vodka (what else would he call it?) in a statuesque bottle with a garish gold label designed by famed graphic designer Milton Glaser.

The launch party, according to New York Magazine, was emceed by rapper Busta Rhymes and, as you can imagine, featured a mix of hired models and “a bunch of middle-aged, slightly overweight white guys.”

Trump was characteristically optimistic about the brand, forecasting that his version of the classic vodka tonic, the Trump & tonic would be a huge hit. The closure of the brand in 2011 was quite a bit less glamorous, with the vodka quietly disappearing from store and bar shelves.

But Trump’s forays into the world of alcohol are particularly odd considering that he’s an avowed teetotaler and that he has spoken quite publically and candidly about his late brother Fred’s struggles with booze.

“He was 10 years older than me, and he would always tell me not to drink or smoke,” Trump told Esquire. “And to this day I’ve never had a cigarette. I’ve never had a glass of alcohol.”

He went even further: “I’ve never understood why people don’t go after the alcohol companies like they did the tobacco companies. Alcohol is a much worse problem than cigarettes.”

A particularly hard stance to take when you’re peddling the “finest wine, as good a wine as you get anywhere in the world.”

His scores on Wine Enthusiast’s site would also disagree with his bravado most of the wines—which range from a $16 rosé to a $45 Brut Reserve sparkling—are placed solidly in the mid- to high 80s out of a possible 100.

In a weird twist of fate, the one thing Trump didn’t boast about while celebrating his primary wins was that, according to press reports, Kluge wines, the former name of his winery, was served at Chelsea Clinton’s rehearsal dinner, as well at the White House. No doubt it’s a fact neither candidate would like to discuss.


Trump Wine Is Built on Acres of Lies

The GOP frontrunner’s claim that he owns ‘the largest winery on the East Coast’ is not true when it comes down to the amount of wine he makes.

Noah Rothbaum

Photographer: Grzegorz Krysmalski

While Donald Trump may be famous for his litany of ridiculous boasts and exaggerations, his latest claim to be a top winery owner—made during his speech after the Detroit and Mississippi primaries—may be one of his most laughable.

It’s certainly a perfect example of how The Donald seamlessly mixes truth with fiction to form a narrative that manages to sound plausible when delivered in 30-second sound bites.

Despite begging the assembled media to fact-check his statement about the financials of Trump Winery (what else would he call it?), Trump still made a few major mistakes in his description of the establishment.

For one, despite Trump avowing complete ownership of the business, Trump Winery’s site states that “Trump Winery is a registered trade name of Eric Trump Wine Manufacturing LLC, which is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates.”

That may explain why Trump Sr. was bit fuzzy about some of the winery’s details for example, he claimed the vineyard was “close to 2,000 acres,” while in fact Trump Winery’s own website states that it’s a 1,300-acre estate. And, no, the establishment is not located next to the “Thomas Jefferson Memorial.”

We will assume Trump was talking about Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home (not the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C.), which is actually several miles from his winery.

His most grandiose claim was that Trump Winery was the “largest winery on the East Coast.”

His 200 planted acres certainly make the winery sizable and the largest one in Virginia by property size. But when discussing the size of a wine or spirits brand, the yardstick is typically case sales, not acreage. (Would you measure an automaker’s size by the square footage of its plant or how many cars it sells?)

One reason for this is the size of the vineyard may not matter given that many wineries buy grapes instead of growing them. “The largest vineyard in Virginia? Maybe. The largest producer? No,” says Jerald O’Kennard the director of the Beverage Testing Institute, which reviews wines and runs wine competitions. “It’s just semantics.”

According to the Virginia Wine Board, Trump Winery is in fact not even the state’s top producer by volume—it falls in the top five. The state’s largest producers are Williamsburg Winery and Chateau Morrisette, which readily admits to buying grapes from a network of Virginia growers.

Trump also failed to give an accurate history of the vineyard. During the press conference he said that media mogul John Kluge “built one of the great vineyards of all time.”

As it turns out, it was really Kluge’s ex-wife, Patricia, who started the vineyard. You might excuse the mistake except that Patricia stayed on to make the wine after Trump bought the property.

It’s also hard to imagine why Trump would bring up his winery as an example of his business acumen given how well his eponymous vodka worked out.

In 2006, to great fanfare, he introduced Trump Vodka (what else would he call it?) in a statuesque bottle with a garish gold label designed by famed graphic designer Milton Glaser.

The launch party, according to New York Magazine, was emceed by rapper Busta Rhymes and, as you can imagine, featured a mix of hired models and “a bunch of middle-aged, slightly overweight white guys.”

Trump was characteristically optimistic about the brand, forecasting that his version of the classic vodka tonic, the Trump & tonic would be a huge hit. The closure of the brand in 2011 was quite a bit less glamorous, with the vodka quietly disappearing from store and bar shelves.

But Trump’s forays into the world of alcohol are particularly odd considering that he’s an avowed teetotaler and that he has spoken quite publically and candidly about his late brother Fred’s struggles with booze.

“He was 10 years older than me, and he would always tell me not to drink or smoke,” Trump told Esquire. “And to this day I’ve never had a cigarette. I’ve never had a glass of alcohol.”

He went even further: “I’ve never understood why people don’t go after the alcohol companies like they did the tobacco companies. Alcohol is a much worse problem than cigarettes.”

A particularly hard stance to take when you’re peddling the “finest wine, as good a wine as you get anywhere in the world.”

His scores on Wine Enthusiast’s site would also disagree with his bravado most of the wines—which range from a $16 rosé to a $45 Brut Reserve sparkling—are placed solidly in the mid- to high 80s out of a possible 100.

In a weird twist of fate, the one thing Trump didn’t boast about while celebrating his primary wins was that, according to press reports, Kluge wines, the former name of his winery, was served at Chelsea Clinton’s rehearsal dinner, as well at the White House. No doubt it’s a fact neither candidate would like to discuss.


Trump Wine Is Built on Acres of Lies

The GOP frontrunner’s claim that he owns ‘the largest winery on the East Coast’ is not true when it comes down to the amount of wine he makes.

Noah Rothbaum

Photographer: Grzegorz Krysmalski

While Donald Trump may be famous for his litany of ridiculous boasts and exaggerations, his latest claim to be a top winery owner—made during his speech after the Detroit and Mississippi primaries—may be one of his most laughable.

It’s certainly a perfect example of how The Donald seamlessly mixes truth with fiction to form a narrative that manages to sound plausible when delivered in 30-second sound bites.

Despite begging the assembled media to fact-check his statement about the financials of Trump Winery (what else would he call it?), Trump still made a few major mistakes in his description of the establishment.

For one, despite Trump avowing complete ownership of the business, Trump Winery’s site states that “Trump Winery is a registered trade name of Eric Trump Wine Manufacturing LLC, which is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates.”

That may explain why Trump Sr. was bit fuzzy about some of the winery’s details for example, he claimed the vineyard was “close to 2,000 acres,” while in fact Trump Winery’s own website states that it’s a 1,300-acre estate. And, no, the establishment is not located next to the “Thomas Jefferson Memorial.”

We will assume Trump was talking about Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home (not the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C.), which is actually several miles from his winery.

His most grandiose claim was that Trump Winery was the “largest winery on the East Coast.”

His 200 planted acres certainly make the winery sizable and the largest one in Virginia by property size. But when discussing the size of a wine or spirits brand, the yardstick is typically case sales, not acreage. (Would you measure an automaker’s size by the square footage of its plant or how many cars it sells?)

One reason for this is the size of the vineyard may not matter given that many wineries buy grapes instead of growing them. “The largest vineyard in Virginia? Maybe. The largest producer? No,” says Jerald O’Kennard the director of the Beverage Testing Institute, which reviews wines and runs wine competitions. “It’s just semantics.”

According to the Virginia Wine Board, Trump Winery is in fact not even the state’s top producer by volume—it falls in the top five. The state’s largest producers are Williamsburg Winery and Chateau Morrisette, which readily admits to buying grapes from a network of Virginia growers.

Trump also failed to give an accurate history of the vineyard. During the press conference he said that media mogul John Kluge “built one of the great vineyards of all time.”

As it turns out, it was really Kluge’s ex-wife, Patricia, who started the vineyard. You might excuse the mistake except that Patricia stayed on to make the wine after Trump bought the property.

It’s also hard to imagine why Trump would bring up his winery as an example of his business acumen given how well his eponymous vodka worked out.

In 2006, to great fanfare, he introduced Trump Vodka (what else would he call it?) in a statuesque bottle with a garish gold label designed by famed graphic designer Milton Glaser.

The launch party, according to New York Magazine, was emceed by rapper Busta Rhymes and, as you can imagine, featured a mix of hired models and “a bunch of middle-aged, slightly overweight white guys.”

Trump was characteristically optimistic about the brand, forecasting that his version of the classic vodka tonic, the Trump & tonic would be a huge hit. The closure of the brand in 2011 was quite a bit less glamorous, with the vodka quietly disappearing from store and bar shelves.

But Trump’s forays into the world of alcohol are particularly odd considering that he’s an avowed teetotaler and that he has spoken quite publically and candidly about his late brother Fred’s struggles with booze.

“He was 10 years older than me, and he would always tell me not to drink or smoke,” Trump told Esquire. “And to this day I’ve never had a cigarette. I’ve never had a glass of alcohol.”

He went even further: “I’ve never understood why people don’t go after the alcohol companies like they did the tobacco companies. Alcohol is a much worse problem than cigarettes.”

A particularly hard stance to take when you’re peddling the “finest wine, as good a wine as you get anywhere in the world.”

His scores on Wine Enthusiast’s site would also disagree with his bravado most of the wines—which range from a $16 rosé to a $45 Brut Reserve sparkling—are placed solidly in the mid- to high 80s out of a possible 100.

In a weird twist of fate, the one thing Trump didn’t boast about while celebrating his primary wins was that, according to press reports, Kluge wines, the former name of his winery, was served at Chelsea Clinton’s rehearsal dinner, as well at the White House. No doubt it’s a fact neither candidate would like to discuss.


Trump Wine Is Built on Acres of Lies

The GOP frontrunner’s claim that he owns ‘the largest winery on the East Coast’ is not true when it comes down to the amount of wine he makes.

Noah Rothbaum

Photographer: Grzegorz Krysmalski

While Donald Trump may be famous for his litany of ridiculous boasts and exaggerations, his latest claim to be a top winery owner—made during his speech after the Detroit and Mississippi primaries—may be one of his most laughable.

It’s certainly a perfect example of how The Donald seamlessly mixes truth with fiction to form a narrative that manages to sound plausible when delivered in 30-second sound bites.

Despite begging the assembled media to fact-check his statement about the financials of Trump Winery (what else would he call it?), Trump still made a few major mistakes in his description of the establishment.

For one, despite Trump avowing complete ownership of the business, Trump Winery’s site states that “Trump Winery is a registered trade name of Eric Trump Wine Manufacturing LLC, which is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates.”

That may explain why Trump Sr. was bit fuzzy about some of the winery’s details for example, he claimed the vineyard was “close to 2,000 acres,” while in fact Trump Winery’s own website states that it’s a 1,300-acre estate. And, no, the establishment is not located next to the “Thomas Jefferson Memorial.”

We will assume Trump was talking about Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home (not the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C.), which is actually several miles from his winery.

His most grandiose claim was that Trump Winery was the “largest winery on the East Coast.”

His 200 planted acres certainly make the winery sizable and the largest one in Virginia by property size. But when discussing the size of a wine or spirits brand, the yardstick is typically case sales, not acreage. (Would you measure an automaker’s size by the square footage of its plant or how many cars it sells?)

One reason for this is the size of the vineyard may not matter given that many wineries buy grapes instead of growing them. “The largest vineyard in Virginia? Maybe. The largest producer? No,” says Jerald O’Kennard the director of the Beverage Testing Institute, which reviews wines and runs wine competitions. “It’s just semantics.”

According to the Virginia Wine Board, Trump Winery is in fact not even the state’s top producer by volume—it falls in the top five. The state’s largest producers are Williamsburg Winery and Chateau Morrisette, which readily admits to buying grapes from a network of Virginia growers.

Trump also failed to give an accurate history of the vineyard. During the press conference he said that media mogul John Kluge “built one of the great vineyards of all time.”

As it turns out, it was really Kluge’s ex-wife, Patricia, who started the vineyard. You might excuse the mistake except that Patricia stayed on to make the wine after Trump bought the property.

It’s also hard to imagine why Trump would bring up his winery as an example of his business acumen given how well his eponymous vodka worked out.

In 2006, to great fanfare, he introduced Trump Vodka (what else would he call it?) in a statuesque bottle with a garish gold label designed by famed graphic designer Milton Glaser.

The launch party, according to New York Magazine, was emceed by rapper Busta Rhymes and, as you can imagine, featured a mix of hired models and “a bunch of middle-aged, slightly overweight white guys.”

Trump was characteristically optimistic about the brand, forecasting that his version of the classic vodka tonic, the Trump & tonic would be a huge hit. The closure of the brand in 2011 was quite a bit less glamorous, with the vodka quietly disappearing from store and bar shelves.

But Trump’s forays into the world of alcohol are particularly odd considering that he’s an avowed teetotaler and that he has spoken quite publically and candidly about his late brother Fred’s struggles with booze.

“He was 10 years older than me, and he would always tell me not to drink or smoke,” Trump told Esquire. “And to this day I’ve never had a cigarette. I’ve never had a glass of alcohol.”

He went even further: “I’ve never understood why people don’t go after the alcohol companies like they did the tobacco companies. Alcohol is a much worse problem than cigarettes.”

A particularly hard stance to take when you’re peddling the “finest wine, as good a wine as you get anywhere in the world.”

His scores on Wine Enthusiast’s site would also disagree with his bravado most of the wines—which range from a $16 rosé to a $45 Brut Reserve sparkling—are placed solidly in the mid- to high 80s out of a possible 100.

In a weird twist of fate, the one thing Trump didn’t boast about while celebrating his primary wins was that, according to press reports, Kluge wines, the former name of his winery, was served at Chelsea Clinton’s rehearsal dinner, as well at the White House. No doubt it’s a fact neither candidate would like to discuss.


Trump Wine Is Built on Acres of Lies

The GOP frontrunner’s claim that he owns ‘the largest winery on the East Coast’ is not true when it comes down to the amount of wine he makes.

Noah Rothbaum

Photographer: Grzegorz Krysmalski

While Donald Trump may be famous for his litany of ridiculous boasts and exaggerations, his latest claim to be a top winery owner—made during his speech after the Detroit and Mississippi primaries—may be one of his most laughable.

It’s certainly a perfect example of how The Donald seamlessly mixes truth with fiction to form a narrative that manages to sound plausible when delivered in 30-second sound bites.

Despite begging the assembled media to fact-check his statement about the financials of Trump Winery (what else would he call it?), Trump still made a few major mistakes in his description of the establishment.

For one, despite Trump avowing complete ownership of the business, Trump Winery’s site states that “Trump Winery is a registered trade name of Eric Trump Wine Manufacturing LLC, which is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates.”

That may explain why Trump Sr. was bit fuzzy about some of the winery’s details for example, he claimed the vineyard was “close to 2,000 acres,” while in fact Trump Winery’s own website states that it’s a 1,300-acre estate. And, no, the establishment is not located next to the “Thomas Jefferson Memorial.”

We will assume Trump was talking about Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home (not the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C.), which is actually several miles from his winery.

His most grandiose claim was that Trump Winery was the “largest winery on the East Coast.”

His 200 planted acres certainly make the winery sizable and the largest one in Virginia by property size. But when discussing the size of a wine or spirits brand, the yardstick is typically case sales, not acreage. (Would you measure an automaker’s size by the square footage of its plant or how many cars it sells?)

One reason for this is the size of the vineyard may not matter given that many wineries buy grapes instead of growing them. “The largest vineyard in Virginia? Maybe. The largest producer? No,” says Jerald O’Kennard the director of the Beverage Testing Institute, which reviews wines and runs wine competitions. “It’s just semantics.”

According to the Virginia Wine Board, Trump Winery is in fact not even the state’s top producer by volume—it falls in the top five. The state’s largest producers are Williamsburg Winery and Chateau Morrisette, which readily admits to buying grapes from a network of Virginia growers.

Trump also failed to give an accurate history of the vineyard. During the press conference he said that media mogul John Kluge “built one of the great vineyards of all time.”

As it turns out, it was really Kluge’s ex-wife, Patricia, who started the vineyard. You might excuse the mistake except that Patricia stayed on to make the wine after Trump bought the property.

It’s also hard to imagine why Trump would bring up his winery as an example of his business acumen given how well his eponymous vodka worked out.

In 2006, to great fanfare, he introduced Trump Vodka (what else would he call it?) in a statuesque bottle with a garish gold label designed by famed graphic designer Milton Glaser.

The launch party, according to New York Magazine, was emceed by rapper Busta Rhymes and, as you can imagine, featured a mix of hired models and “a bunch of middle-aged, slightly overweight white guys.”

Trump was characteristically optimistic about the brand, forecasting that his version of the classic vodka tonic, the Trump & tonic would be a huge hit. The closure of the brand in 2011 was quite a bit less glamorous, with the vodka quietly disappearing from store and bar shelves.

But Trump’s forays into the world of alcohol are particularly odd considering that he’s an avowed teetotaler and that he has spoken quite publically and candidly about his late brother Fred’s struggles with booze.

“He was 10 years older than me, and he would always tell me not to drink or smoke,” Trump told Esquire. “And to this day I’ve never had a cigarette. I’ve never had a glass of alcohol.”

He went even further: “I’ve never understood why people don’t go after the alcohol companies like they did the tobacco companies. Alcohol is a much worse problem than cigarettes.”

A particularly hard stance to take when you’re peddling the “finest wine, as good a wine as you get anywhere in the world.”

His scores on Wine Enthusiast’s site would also disagree with his bravado most of the wines—which range from a $16 rosé to a $45 Brut Reserve sparkling—are placed solidly in the mid- to high 80s out of a possible 100.

In a weird twist of fate, the one thing Trump didn’t boast about while celebrating his primary wins was that, according to press reports, Kluge wines, the former name of his winery, was served at Chelsea Clinton’s rehearsal dinner, as well at the White House. No doubt it’s a fact neither candidate would like to discuss.


Trump Wine Is Built on Acres of Lies

The GOP frontrunner’s claim that he owns ‘the largest winery on the East Coast’ is not true when it comes down to the amount of wine he makes.

Noah Rothbaum

Photographer: Grzegorz Krysmalski

While Donald Trump may be famous for his litany of ridiculous boasts and exaggerations, his latest claim to be a top winery owner—made during his speech after the Detroit and Mississippi primaries—may be one of his most laughable.

It’s certainly a perfect example of how The Donald seamlessly mixes truth with fiction to form a narrative that manages to sound plausible when delivered in 30-second sound bites.

Despite begging the assembled media to fact-check his statement about the financials of Trump Winery (what else would he call it?), Trump still made a few major mistakes in his description of the establishment.

For one, despite Trump avowing complete ownership of the business, Trump Winery’s site states that “Trump Winery is a registered trade name of Eric Trump Wine Manufacturing LLC, which is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates.”

That may explain why Trump Sr. was bit fuzzy about some of the winery’s details for example, he claimed the vineyard was “close to 2,000 acres,” while in fact Trump Winery’s own website states that it’s a 1,300-acre estate. And, no, the establishment is not located next to the “Thomas Jefferson Memorial.”

We will assume Trump was talking about Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home (not the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C.), which is actually several miles from his winery.

His most grandiose claim was that Trump Winery was the “largest winery on the East Coast.”

His 200 planted acres certainly make the winery sizable and the largest one in Virginia by property size. But when discussing the size of a wine or spirits brand, the yardstick is typically case sales, not acreage. (Would you measure an automaker’s size by the square footage of its plant or how many cars it sells?)

One reason for this is the size of the vineyard may not matter given that many wineries buy grapes instead of growing them. “The largest vineyard in Virginia? Maybe. The largest producer? No,” says Jerald O’Kennard the director of the Beverage Testing Institute, which reviews wines and runs wine competitions. “It’s just semantics.”

According to the Virginia Wine Board, Trump Winery is in fact not even the state’s top producer by volume—it falls in the top five. The state’s largest producers are Williamsburg Winery and Chateau Morrisette, which readily admits to buying grapes from a network of Virginia growers.

Trump also failed to give an accurate history of the vineyard. During the press conference he said that media mogul John Kluge “built one of the great vineyards of all time.”

As it turns out, it was really Kluge’s ex-wife, Patricia, who started the vineyard. You might excuse the mistake except that Patricia stayed on to make the wine after Trump bought the property.

It’s also hard to imagine why Trump would bring up his winery as an example of his business acumen given how well his eponymous vodka worked out.

In 2006, to great fanfare, he introduced Trump Vodka (what else would he call it?) in a statuesque bottle with a garish gold label designed by famed graphic designer Milton Glaser.

The launch party, according to New York Magazine, was emceed by rapper Busta Rhymes and, as you can imagine, featured a mix of hired models and “a bunch of middle-aged, slightly overweight white guys.”

Trump was characteristically optimistic about the brand, forecasting that his version of the classic vodka tonic, the Trump & tonic would be a huge hit. The closure of the brand in 2011 was quite a bit less glamorous, with the vodka quietly disappearing from store and bar shelves.

But Trump’s forays into the world of alcohol are particularly odd considering that he’s an avowed teetotaler and that he has spoken quite publically and candidly about his late brother Fred’s struggles with booze.

“He was 10 years older than me, and he would always tell me not to drink or smoke,” Trump told Esquire. “And to this day I’ve never had a cigarette. I’ve never had a glass of alcohol.”

He went even further: “I’ve never understood why people don’t go after the alcohol companies like they did the tobacco companies. Alcohol is a much worse problem than cigarettes.”

A particularly hard stance to take when you’re peddling the “finest wine, as good a wine as you get anywhere in the world.”

His scores on Wine Enthusiast’s site would also disagree with his bravado most of the wines—which range from a $16 rosé to a $45 Brut Reserve sparkling—are placed solidly in the mid- to high 80s out of a possible 100.

In a weird twist of fate, the one thing Trump didn’t boast about while celebrating his primary wins was that, according to press reports, Kluge wines, the former name of his winery, was served at Chelsea Clinton’s rehearsal dinner, as well at the White House. No doubt it’s a fact neither candidate would like to discuss.


Trump Wine Is Built on Acres of Lies

The GOP frontrunner’s claim that he owns ‘the largest winery on the East Coast’ is not true when it comes down to the amount of wine he makes.

Noah Rothbaum

Photographer: Grzegorz Krysmalski

While Donald Trump may be famous for his litany of ridiculous boasts and exaggerations, his latest claim to be a top winery owner—made during his speech after the Detroit and Mississippi primaries—may be one of his most laughable.

It’s certainly a perfect example of how The Donald seamlessly mixes truth with fiction to form a narrative that manages to sound plausible when delivered in 30-second sound bites.

Despite begging the assembled media to fact-check his statement about the financials of Trump Winery (what else would he call it?), Trump still made a few major mistakes in his description of the establishment.

For one, despite Trump avowing complete ownership of the business, Trump Winery’s site states that “Trump Winery is a registered trade name of Eric Trump Wine Manufacturing LLC, which is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates.”

That may explain why Trump Sr. was bit fuzzy about some of the winery’s details for example, he claimed the vineyard was “close to 2,000 acres,” while in fact Trump Winery’s own website states that it’s a 1,300-acre estate. And, no, the establishment is not located next to the “Thomas Jefferson Memorial.”

We will assume Trump was talking about Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home (not the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C.), which is actually several miles from his winery.

His most grandiose claim was that Trump Winery was the “largest winery on the East Coast.”

His 200 planted acres certainly make the winery sizable and the largest one in Virginia by property size. But when discussing the size of a wine or spirits brand, the yardstick is typically case sales, not acreage. (Would you measure an automaker’s size by the square footage of its plant or how many cars it sells?)

One reason for this is the size of the vineyard may not matter given that many wineries buy grapes instead of growing them. “The largest vineyard in Virginia? Maybe. The largest producer? No,” says Jerald O’Kennard the director of the Beverage Testing Institute, which reviews wines and runs wine competitions. “It’s just semantics.”

According to the Virginia Wine Board, Trump Winery is in fact not even the state’s top producer by volume—it falls in the top five. The state’s largest producers are Williamsburg Winery and Chateau Morrisette, which readily admits to buying grapes from a network of Virginia growers.

Trump also failed to give an accurate history of the vineyard. During the press conference he said that media mogul John Kluge “built one of the great vineyards of all time.”

As it turns out, it was really Kluge’s ex-wife, Patricia, who started the vineyard. You might excuse the mistake except that Patricia stayed on to make the wine after Trump bought the property.

It’s also hard to imagine why Trump would bring up his winery as an example of his business acumen given how well his eponymous vodka worked out.

In 2006, to great fanfare, he introduced Trump Vodka (what else would he call it?) in a statuesque bottle with a garish gold label designed by famed graphic designer Milton Glaser.

The launch party, according to New York Magazine, was emceed by rapper Busta Rhymes and, as you can imagine, featured a mix of hired models and “a bunch of middle-aged, slightly overweight white guys.”

Trump was characteristically optimistic about the brand, forecasting that his version of the classic vodka tonic, the Trump & tonic would be a huge hit. The closure of the brand in 2011 was quite a bit less glamorous, with the vodka quietly disappearing from store and bar shelves.

But Trump’s forays into the world of alcohol are particularly odd considering that he’s an avowed teetotaler and that he has spoken quite publically and candidly about his late brother Fred’s struggles with booze.

“He was 10 years older than me, and he would always tell me not to drink or smoke,” Trump told Esquire. “And to this day I’ve never had a cigarette. I’ve never had a glass of alcohol.”

He went even further: “I’ve never understood why people don’t go after the alcohol companies like they did the tobacco companies. Alcohol is a much worse problem than cigarettes.”

A particularly hard stance to take when you’re peddling the “finest wine, as good a wine as you get anywhere in the world.”

His scores on Wine Enthusiast’s site would also disagree with his bravado most of the wines—which range from a $16 rosé to a $45 Brut Reserve sparkling—are placed solidly in the mid- to high 80s out of a possible 100.

In a weird twist of fate, the one thing Trump didn’t boast about while celebrating his primary wins was that, according to press reports, Kluge wines, the former name of his winery, was served at Chelsea Clinton’s rehearsal dinner, as well at the White House. No doubt it’s a fact neither candidate would like to discuss.


Trump Wine Is Built on Acres of Lies

The GOP frontrunner’s claim that he owns ‘the largest winery on the East Coast’ is not true when it comes down to the amount of wine he makes.

Noah Rothbaum

Photographer: Grzegorz Krysmalski

While Donald Trump may be famous for his litany of ridiculous boasts and exaggerations, his latest claim to be a top winery owner—made during his speech after the Detroit and Mississippi primaries—may be one of his most laughable.

It’s certainly a perfect example of how The Donald seamlessly mixes truth with fiction to form a narrative that manages to sound plausible when delivered in 30-second sound bites.

Despite begging the assembled media to fact-check his statement about the financials of Trump Winery (what else would he call it?), Trump still made a few major mistakes in his description of the establishment.

For one, despite Trump avowing complete ownership of the business, Trump Winery’s site states that “Trump Winery is a registered trade name of Eric Trump Wine Manufacturing LLC, which is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates.”

That may explain why Trump Sr. was bit fuzzy about some of the winery’s details for example, he claimed the vineyard was “close to 2,000 acres,” while in fact Trump Winery’s own website states that it’s a 1,300-acre estate. And, no, the establishment is not located next to the “Thomas Jefferson Memorial.”

We will assume Trump was talking about Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home (not the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C.), which is actually several miles from his winery.

His most grandiose claim was that Trump Winery was the “largest winery on the East Coast.”

His 200 planted acres certainly make the winery sizable and the largest one in Virginia by property size. But when discussing the size of a wine or spirits brand, the yardstick is typically case sales, not acreage. (Would you measure an automaker’s size by the square footage of its plant or how many cars it sells?)

One reason for this is the size of the vineyard may not matter given that many wineries buy grapes instead of growing them. “The largest vineyard in Virginia? Maybe. The largest producer? No,” says Jerald O’Kennard the director of the Beverage Testing Institute, which reviews wines and runs wine competitions. “It’s just semantics.”

According to the Virginia Wine Board, Trump Winery is in fact not even the state’s top producer by volume—it falls in the top five. The state’s largest producers are Williamsburg Winery and Chateau Morrisette, which readily admits to buying grapes from a network of Virginia growers.

Trump also failed to give an accurate history of the vineyard. During the press conference he said that media mogul John Kluge “built one of the great vineyards of all time.”

As it turns out, it was really Kluge’s ex-wife, Patricia, who started the vineyard. You might excuse the mistake except that Patricia stayed on to make the wine after Trump bought the property.

It’s also hard to imagine why Trump would bring up his winery as an example of his business acumen given how well his eponymous vodka worked out.

In 2006, to great fanfare, he introduced Trump Vodka (what else would he call it?) in a statuesque bottle with a garish gold label designed by famed graphic designer Milton Glaser.

The launch party, according to New York Magazine, was emceed by rapper Busta Rhymes and, as you can imagine, featured a mix of hired models and “a bunch of middle-aged, slightly overweight white guys.”

Trump was characteristically optimistic about the brand, forecasting that his version of the classic vodka tonic, the Trump & tonic would be a huge hit. The closure of the brand in 2011 was quite a bit less glamorous, with the vodka quietly disappearing from store and bar shelves.

But Trump’s forays into the world of alcohol are particularly odd considering that he’s an avowed teetotaler and that he has spoken quite publically and candidly about his late brother Fred’s struggles with booze.

“He was 10 years older than me, and he would always tell me not to drink or smoke,” Trump told Esquire. “And to this day I’ve never had a cigarette. I’ve never had a glass of alcohol.”

He went even further: “I’ve never understood why people don’t go after the alcohol companies like they did the tobacco companies. Alcohol is a much worse problem than cigarettes.”

A particularly hard stance to take when you’re peddling the “finest wine, as good a wine as you get anywhere in the world.”

His scores on Wine Enthusiast’s site would also disagree with his bravado most of the wines—which range from a $16 rosé to a $45 Brut Reserve sparkling—are placed solidly in the mid- to high 80s out of a possible 100.

In a weird twist of fate, the one thing Trump didn’t boast about while celebrating his primary wins was that, according to press reports, Kluge wines, the former name of his winery, was served at Chelsea Clinton’s rehearsal dinner, as well at the White House. No doubt it’s a fact neither candidate would like to discuss.


Trump Wine Is Built on Acres of Lies

The GOP frontrunner’s claim that he owns ‘the largest winery on the East Coast’ is not true when it comes down to the amount of wine he makes.

Noah Rothbaum

Photographer: Grzegorz Krysmalski

While Donald Trump may be famous for his litany of ridiculous boasts and exaggerations, his latest claim to be a top winery owner—made during his speech after the Detroit and Mississippi primaries—may be one of his most laughable.

It’s certainly a perfect example of how The Donald seamlessly mixes truth with fiction to form a narrative that manages to sound plausible when delivered in 30-second sound bites.

Despite begging the assembled media to fact-check his statement about the financials of Trump Winery (what else would he call it?), Trump still made a few major mistakes in his description of the establishment.

For one, despite Trump avowing complete ownership of the business, Trump Winery’s site states that “Trump Winery is a registered trade name of Eric Trump Wine Manufacturing LLC, which is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates.”

That may explain why Trump Sr. was bit fuzzy about some of the winery’s details for example, he claimed the vineyard was “close to 2,000 acres,” while in fact Trump Winery’s own website states that it’s a 1,300-acre estate. And, no, the establishment is not located next to the “Thomas Jefferson Memorial.”

We will assume Trump was talking about Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home (not the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C.), which is actually several miles from his winery.

His most grandiose claim was that Trump Winery was the “largest winery on the East Coast.”

His 200 planted acres certainly make the winery sizable and the largest one in Virginia by property size. But when discussing the size of a wine or spirits brand, the yardstick is typically case sales, not acreage. (Would you measure an automaker’s size by the square footage of its plant or how many cars it sells?)

One reason for this is the size of the vineyard may not matter given that many wineries buy grapes instead of growing them. “The largest vineyard in Virginia? Maybe. The largest producer? No,” says Jerald O’Kennard the director of the Beverage Testing Institute, which reviews wines and runs wine competitions. “It’s just semantics.”

According to the Virginia Wine Board, Trump Winery is in fact not even the state’s top producer by volume—it falls in the top five. The state’s largest producers are Williamsburg Winery and Chateau Morrisette, which readily admits to buying grapes from a network of Virginia growers.

Trump also failed to give an accurate history of the vineyard. During the press conference he said that media mogul John Kluge “built one of the great vineyards of all time.”

As it turns out, it was really Kluge’s ex-wife, Patricia, who started the vineyard. You might excuse the mistake except that Patricia stayed on to make the wine after Trump bought the property.

It’s also hard to imagine why Trump would bring up his winery as an example of his business acumen given how well his eponymous vodka worked out.

In 2006, to great fanfare, he introduced Trump Vodka (what else would he call it?) in a statuesque bottle with a garish gold label designed by famed graphic designer Milton Glaser.

The launch party, according to New York Magazine, was emceed by rapper Busta Rhymes and, as you can imagine, featured a mix of hired models and “a bunch of middle-aged, slightly overweight white guys.”

Trump was characteristically optimistic about the brand, forecasting that his version of the classic vodka tonic, the Trump & tonic would be a huge hit. The closure of the brand in 2011 was quite a bit less glamorous, with the vodka quietly disappearing from store and bar shelves.

But Trump’s forays into the world of alcohol are particularly odd considering that he’s an avowed teetotaler and that he has spoken quite publically and candidly about his late brother Fred’s struggles with booze.

“He was 10 years older than me, and he would always tell me not to drink or smoke,” Trump told Esquire. “And to this day I’ve never had a cigarette. I’ve never had a glass of alcohol.”

He went even further: “I’ve never understood why people don’t go after the alcohol companies like they did the tobacco companies. Alcohol is a much worse problem than cigarettes.”

A particularly hard stance to take when you’re peddling the “finest wine, as good a wine as you get anywhere in the world.”

His scores on Wine Enthusiast’s site would also disagree with his bravado most of the wines—which range from a $16 rosé to a $45 Brut Reserve sparkling—are placed solidly in the mid- to high 80s out of a possible 100.

In a weird twist of fate, the one thing Trump didn’t boast about while celebrating his primary wins was that, according to press reports, Kluge wines, the former name of his winery, was served at Chelsea Clinton’s rehearsal dinner, as well at the White House. No doubt it’s a fact neither candidate would like to discuss.


Trump Wine Is Built on Acres of Lies

The GOP frontrunner’s claim that he owns ‘the largest winery on the East Coast’ is not true when it comes down to the amount of wine he makes.

Noah Rothbaum

Photographer: Grzegorz Krysmalski

While Donald Trump may be famous for his litany of ridiculous boasts and exaggerations, his latest claim to be a top winery owner—made during his speech after the Detroit and Mississippi primaries—may be one of his most laughable.

It’s certainly a perfect example of how The Donald seamlessly mixes truth with fiction to form a narrative that manages to sound plausible when delivered in 30-second sound bites.

Despite begging the assembled media to fact-check his statement about the financials of Trump Winery (what else would he call it?), Trump still made a few major mistakes in his description of the establishment.

For one, despite Trump avowing complete ownership of the business, Trump Winery’s site states that “Trump Winery is a registered trade name of Eric Trump Wine Manufacturing LLC, which is not owned, managed or affiliated with Donald J. Trump, The Trump Organization or any of their affiliates.”

That may explain why Trump Sr. was bit fuzzy about some of the winery’s details for example, he claimed the vineyard was “close to 2,000 acres,” while in fact Trump Winery’s own website states that it’s a 1,300-acre estate. And, no, the establishment is not located next to the “Thomas Jefferson Memorial.”

We will assume Trump was talking about Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home (not the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C.), which is actually several miles from his winery.

His most grandiose claim was that Trump Winery was the “largest winery on the East Coast.”

His 200 planted acres certainly make the winery sizable and the largest one in Virginia by property size. But when discussing the size of a wine or spirits brand, the yardstick is typically case sales, not acreage. (Would you measure an automaker’s size by the square footage of its plant or how many cars it sells?)

One reason for this is the size of the vineyard may not matter given that many wineries buy grapes instead of growing them. “The largest vineyard in Virginia? Maybe. The largest producer? No,” says Jerald O’Kennard the director of the Beverage Testing Institute, which reviews wines and runs wine competitions. “It’s just semantics.”

According to the Virginia Wine Board, Trump Winery is in fact not even the state’s top producer by volume—it falls in the top five. The state’s largest producers are Williamsburg Winery and Chateau Morrisette, which readily admits to buying grapes from a network of Virginia growers.

Trump also failed to give an accurate history of the vineyard. During the press conference he said that media mogul John Kluge “built one of the great vineyards of all time.”

As it turns out, it was really Kluge’s ex-wife, Patricia, who started the vineyard. You might excuse the mistake except that Patricia stayed on to make the wine after Trump bought the property.

It’s also hard to imagine why Trump would bring up his winery as an example of his business acumen given how well his eponymous vodka worked out.

In 2006, to great fanfare, he introduced Trump Vodka (what else would he call it?) in a statuesque bottle with a garish gold label designed by famed graphic designer Milton Glaser.

The launch party, according to New York Magazine, was emceed by rapper Busta Rhymes and, as you can imagine, featured a mix of hired models and “a bunch of middle-aged, slightly overweight white guys.”

Trump was characteristically optimistic about the brand, forecasting that his version of the classic vodka tonic, the Trump & tonic would be a huge hit. The closure of the brand in 2011 was quite a bit less glamorous, with the vodka quietly disappearing from store and bar shelves.

But Trump’s forays into the world of alcohol are particularly odd considering that he’s an avowed teetotaler and that he has spoken quite publically and candidly about his late brother Fred’s struggles with booze.

“He was 10 years older than me, and he would always tell me not to drink or smoke,” Trump told Esquire. “And to this day I’ve never had a cigarette. I’ve never had a glass of alcohol.”

He went even further: “I’ve never understood why people don’t go after the alcohol companies like they did the tobacco companies. Alcohol is a much worse problem than cigarettes.”

A particularly hard stance to take when you’re peddling the “finest wine, as good a wine as you get anywhere in the world.”

His scores on Wine Enthusiast’s site would also disagree with his bravado most of the wines—which range from a $16 rosé to a $45 Brut Reserve sparkling—are placed solidly in the mid- to high 80s out of a possible 100.

In a weird twist of fate, the one thing Trump didn’t boast about while celebrating his primary wins was that, according to press reports, Kluge wines, the former name of his winery, was served at Chelsea Clinton’s rehearsal dinner, as well at the White House. No doubt it’s a fact neither candidate would like to discuss.


Watch the video: Trump Hotel. Trump Wine. Trump Winery (June 2022).