Mark Carney has just made Europe a rather remarkable declaration of love. Speaking this week at the European Parliament in Strasbourg, the Canadian prime minister spoke of the “deepest possible partnership” between Canada and the EU. The existing free-trade agreement, CETA, is not supposed to be the end, but the starting point for a much closer economic and political relationship. The rapprochement has tangible geopolitical reasons: Canada wants to reduce its dependence on the USA, while Europe is looking for reliable partners for energy, raw materials, technology and security. A win-win, then.
I would like to add another item to this new transatlantic friendship: let’s drink more Canadian wine.
Because it is still an exotic marginal phenomenon in Europe. Canada? Ah yes, Icewine. After that, many wine drinkers’ knowledge already runs thin. Yet some of the most interesting cool-climate wines outside Europe are now being produced there: Chardonnay and Riesling, Pinot Noir and Cabernet Franc, and in the west even astonishing Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot.
And as far as viticulture is concerned, Canada is less absurdly placed than a glance at the world map might suggest.
The Niagara Peninsula in Ontario, the country’s most important wine-growing region, lies at approximately the 43rd parallel. This is not Lapland, but almost exactly the same latitude as Tuscany. The problem is therefore less the latitude than the Canadian winter. Without Lake Ontario, commercial winegrowing here would be considerably more difficult. The enormous body of water acts as a temperature buffer: in autumn, the lake, warmed during the summer, releases heat and extends the growing season; in spring, the cold water delays budbreak and thereby reduces the risk of late frosts. Added to this is the Niagara Escarpment, that elongated rise in the terrain which influences air currents and microclimates.
The result is more reminiscent in its logic of European cool-climate regions than of California. Riesling retains its acidity, Chardonnay becomes taut, and Pinot Noir elegant. Cabernet Franc in particular feels surprisingly at home. Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot also succeed in warmer sites and years, but are often leaner than their counterparts from Napa or Bordeaux.
That Ontario must be taken seriously has once again been demonstrated by the Decanter World Wine Award 2026: 157 medals went to VQA wines from Ontario. Gold was awarded, among others, to Chardonnay from Hidden Bench and Le Clos Jordanne and – remarkably – to a Cabernet Franc from Inniskillin. At the Canadian National Wine Awards, Tawse Winery was named Winery of the Year for the fifth time in 2026; the awards were primarily for Chardonnay and Riesling.
Other names we should remember include Hidden Bench, Cave Spring, Domaine Le Clos Jordanne and, of course, Inniskillin. Anyone wanting to understand Canadian red wines should try Pinot Noir and Cabernet Franc before asking for Cabernet Sauvignon. This is precisely where Ontario’s individuality lies.
And then, of course, there is the wine with which Canada appeared on the international wine map in the first place: Icewine. In 1989, Inniskillin made an Icewine from the robust Vidal grape variety which won the Grand Prix d’Honneur at Vinexpo in Bordeaux in 1991. Suddenly, the Old World of wine was looking towards Niagara. Germans and Austrians had of course long known the principle: healthy grapes remain on the vine until winter, freeze, and are harvested and pressed while frozen. The water remains behind as ice, while the sugar, acidity and flavour compounds become concentrated in the small amount of must obtained.
Canada has one decisive advantage over Germany and Austria, however: you can rely on the winter. What becomes a gamble in some years here is a fairly dependable part of Ontario’s climate programme. Vidal is ideally suited to the purpose, Riesling produces the finer, often more complex versions, and even Cabernet Franc is made into red Icewine. In good examples, brutal acidity keeps that enormous sweetness in check. Icewine is therefore not merely liquid marmalade. Very good Canadian Icewine ranks among the great sweet wines of the world.
Canada looks completely different 3,500 kilometres further west. The Okanagan Valley in British Columbia runs through a narrow valley north of the American border. Here we are around the 49th and 50th parallels – so actually in a zone that seems familiar to us Europeans in viticultural terms. The climate, however, works completely differently. The Coast Mountains hold back much of the Pacific moisture; the Okanagan lies in the rain shadow, is dry, rich in sunshine and in places almost desert-like. Up to around 2,000 hours of sunshine meet low levels of precipitation; irrigation is therefore not an exception in many vineyards, but a prerequisite.
And the valley is long. In the cooler north, Riesling, Chardonnay and Pinot Noir perform excellently. Further south, towards Osoyoos, it becomes so warm and dry that Syrah, Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Sauvignon ripen. This very range is what makes British Columbia fascinating: within a few hours’ drive, we effectively change wine worlds.
Mission Hill Family Estate is the best-known international name and was named Winery of the Year for the sixth time at the 2025 National Wine Awards; one of the two wines awarded Platinum there was, of all things, a Cabernet Franc. Alongside it, we should remember Martin’s Lane Winery for Pinot Noir and Riesling, CheckMate Artisanal Winery for Chardonnay and Merlot, and Le Vieux Pin for Syrah. Meyer Family Vineyards and Laughing Stock have by now also joined the estates that regularly appear near the top in national competitions; in 2026, Laughing Stock won Platinum, among other awards, for Syrah and its red cuvée Blind Trust.
The red wines are particularly important because they demolish the European cliché about Canada. A country that can reliably harvest frozen grapes produces ripe Syrah in the Okanagan Valley just a few months earlier. At first, that sounds absurd. In fact, it explains rather well what makes Canada as a wine country distinctive: extreme differences, long summer days, enormous bodies of water, mountains, dry valleys and winters during which a German winegrower would presumably nervously book a flight home.
Canadian wine will therefore not replace Bordeaux, Burgundy, the Mosel or the Wachau. Why should it? Wine becomes interesting wherever a region stops trying to imitate something else.
Perhaps Mark Carney is therefore right about his new affinities between Canada and Europe. In politics, this may become a new transatlantic alliance. As far as wine is concerned, we can make a start already.