The Story

Step into the fox’s den.

We did not set out to become winemakers. Over decades of living and traveling across the world, our tastes evolved. Throughout Asia, we honed our palates on spice and texture. Across Europe, we learned from vineyards and cellars. What had started as a passion became a collection and then an obsession. Then we arrived in Portugal.

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Borders Crossing

Coastal Vinho Verde is known for maritime rains and light, effervescent wines. Yet its southeastern inland corner rises sun-soaked from the green valleys. Here, in Baião, we saw that we could harness the surging power of the Douro River and the brisk cooling winds off the Atlantic. Here, we imagined, we could make a different style of wine, both fiercely expressive and made to endure. 

The Fox Den

Our instinct led us to this “den of foxes,” Quinta da Raposeira. They have always been here, the red, the dark, and the rare black fox, prowling the ground that gave this place its name. From them, we learned to be shrewd and patient in the chase. Our quarry: wines with the depth and texture of our favorite Burgundies and Bordeaux, built to mature and develop over time. Yet still, unmistakably, Baião.

One Estate, Once Again

Once a larger property, the quinta was divided over generations into smaller holdings. We have slowly brought those pieces home, one parcel at a time, reuniting and restoring more than thirty plots of vineyard, forest, and meadow. We have worked with local masons to rebuild the terraces and the winery, stone after stone. The estate continues to evolve. 

A Meeting of Minds

As the quinta took shape, our founder studied winemaking at UC Davis, adding technical understanding to years spent tasting and collecting. We joined forces with winemaker Joana Pinhão, who had built a reputation for excellence among critics and connoisseurs. With shared respect for regenerative farming and old-world techniques, we began to make wines of conviction and intention.

The Visitor

The first time we sat down to properly taste our own wines, four of us gathered on the terrace to talk and savor, two dogs at our feet. A red fox appeared at the top of the stairs and leapt onto the ledge. He sat, cocked his head, and watched us curiously, as if inspecting the fruits of our labor. Then he sauntered off. We still see him, our guardian, from time to time, amongst the vines.