There are some wine words that sound so clinical, so laboratory-sterile, that they seem utterly at odds with the romance of a glass of something ruby and glinting in candlelight. “Clone” is one of them. It conjures petri dishes and steel benches, not sun-warmed vineyards and the soft pop of a cork. And yet, once you understand what a grapevine clone really is, it becomes one of the most sensual, intimate secrets in the wine world: a story whispered from vine to vine, generation to generation, across centuries.

Let’s slip into that story together.

What We Really Mean by a Grapevine Clone

In the most straightforward terms, a grapevine clone is a group of vines that are genetically identical, all descended from a single, carefully selected “mother” vine.

But that sounds so stark, and vines are anything but. Imagine, instead, that you have one particularly enchanting vine in a vineyard: its grapes taste more intense, its bunches ripen evenly, its berries are small and concentrated, its leaves shrug off disease with enviable nonchalance. The grower, understandably smitten, decides: I want more of you.

So they take cuttings from that vine—little pieces of wood, called canes—root them, and plant them. Each new vine is, genetically, a replica of that original beloved vine: a clone. Not created in a laboratory, but in the field, with secateurs, soil, and time.

This is clonal selection: choosing a vine with desirable traits, then reproducing it vegetatively (without seeds) so those traits are preserved. It is, in essence, the wine world’s version of passing on a treasured family recipe exactly as it is, rather than improvising anew each time.

Clones vs. Varieties: Pinot Noir Is Not Just Pinot Noir

Before we can properly luxuriate in clones, we need to distinguish them from grape varieties.

• Grape variety: Think of this as the “surname” of the grape. Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Cabernet Sauvignon, Riesling—these are varieties. They’re broad categories with shared genetic identity and recognizable character.

• Clone: This is the “given name,” or perhaps the personality within the family. A clone is a particular version of that variety, with subtle (or sometimes not-so-subtle) differences in how it behaves and what it gives in the glass.

So you might have:

• Pinot Noir (the variety)
  • Clone 777
  • Clone 115
  • Clone 667
  • Pommard clone
  • Swan clone

All are Pinot Noir, but each is like a different sibling in the same family: one a brooding poet, another a flirty conversationalist, a third a quiet thinker who reveals themselves slowly.

This is why a winemaker talking about clones can sound almost like a novelist discussing their characters. They’re not being precious; they’re being precise.

How Clones Come to Be: Time, Mutation, and Human Desire

Grapevines are perennials. They live for decades, sometimes a century or more, and over such stretches of time they do something marvelous: they mutate. Tiny genetic changes accumulate—most of them inconsequential, some of them transformative.

Historically, grape growers would walk their vineyards, taste, observe, and remember. They’d notice that a particular vine:

• Ripened earlier than its neighbours
• Produced smaller berries with more intense flavor
• Seemed less affected by a mildew outbreak
• Gave wines with a certain perfume that made them sigh with happiness

These special vines were chosen as the source of cuttings. Over generations, this quiet, patient selection led to distinct local clones. In Burgundy, for instance, many of the famed Pinot Noir clones began as “field selections”—chosen by eye, nose, and palate, not by microscope.

Modern clonal selection is more formalized and scientific:

1. Identification – A promising vine is found, often in a historic vineyard.
2. Testing – It’s checked for viruses and diseases, and its performance is observed over multiple seasons.
3. Propagation – If it passes muster, cuttings are propagated in nurseries.
4. Certification – Many regions have certification programs, ensuring growers receive clean, traceable plant material.

But at the heart of it all is still the same old story: humans falling in love with the way a vine behaves and wanting to see more of that magic.

Why Clones Matter in the Vineyard

Clones are not a mere academic curiosity; they’re a winemaker’s toolkit, a grower’s palette. Different clones of the same variety can vary in:

• Yield: Some clones are naturally more generous, others more restrained.
• Berry size and bunch structure: Small berries can mean a higher skin-to-juice ratio, often leading to more color and structure.
• Ripening time: Early or late ripening can be crucial for cooler or warmer climates.
• Disease resistance: Some clones cope better with fungal pressures or certain viruses.
• Flavor and aroma profile: One clone might lean toward red fruit and flowers, another toward darker fruit and spice.

For the grower, choosing clones is like choosing ingredients for a dish. In a cool climate, they might favor:

• Earlier-ripening clones (to ensure grapes reach ripeness)
• Looser bunch structures (less risk of rot in damp conditions)

In a warmer region, they might seek:

• Later-ripening clones (to avoid over-ripeness and preserve freshness)
• Clones that retain acidity and don’t balloon into overblown sweetness

Clones, in other words, are how a grower gently negotiates with climate and terroir.

Why Clones Matter in the Glass

Now we reach the part most of us care about most: taste. How does all this talk of clones translate into what’s swirling in your glass?

Take Pinot Noir, a grape famously sensitive and expressive, as an example. Different clones can give:

• Clone 777: Often associated with darker fruit, structure, and a certain richness.
• Clone 115: Red fruit, perfume, and elegance, sometimes with silkier tannins.
• Pommard clone: A bit more heft and earthiness, sometimes more tannic backbone.

A winemaker might plant several clones in the same vineyard, then later blend the resulting wines:

• One clone for structure
• One for aromatics
• One for mid-palate richness

The result is a wine with layers: high notes, low notes, and a satisfying chord in between, like a well-constructed piece of music.

The same holds for Chardonnay:

• Some clones give more citrus brightness and acidity
• Others lean toward stone fruit, texture, and creaminess

Blended together, they can make a wine that seems to unfurl in the mouth: first a bright, citrusy hello, then a deeper, more textural embrace.

Famous Clones and Their Quiet Fame

You’ll sometimes see clones named or numbered on labels, particularly from producers who are especially proud of their plant material. A few you might encounter:

• Dijon clones (e.g., 115, 667, 777 for Pinot Noir; 76, 95, 96 for Chardonnay) Developed in Burgundy and widely planted around the world, they’re prized for quality and specific flavor profiles.

Each name, each number, is a quiet nod to origin and personality—an acknowledgment that even within a single grape variety, there are multitudes.

The Romance and Risk of Cloning: Uniformity vs. Diversity

There is, however, a tension at the heart of clonal selection. On one side, there is the seductive promise of control: consistency, predictability, and known quality. On the other, the wild, necessary beauty of diversity.

• Pros of clones:

  • Reliable performance
  • Known flavor and structural tendencies
  • Easier vineyard management
  • Potential for higher quality when well chosen

• Cons of over-reliance on a few clones:

This is why many thoughtful growers now blend approaches:

• They plant several different clones of a variety in one vineyard.
• They combine certified clones with massal selections from old, characterful vines.
• They see clones not as a way to standardize, but as a way to compose complexity.

It’s not unlike cooking: you might love a particular variety of tomato, but you’d never want a world in which only that tomato existed. The joy is in the interplay, the contrast, the unexpected harmony.

How to Use This Knowledge as a Wine Drinker

You don’t need to memorize clone numbers to enjoy wine—no one should need a horticultural degree to relish a glass. But understanding clones can:

• Explain stylistic differences: Two Pinot Noirs from neighboring vineyards can taste strikingly different, not just because of soil and sun, but also because of the clones chosen.
• Add nuance to your tasting notes: When a producer mentions clones on the label or in their notes, you’ll know they’re talking about specific personalities within the grape variety.
• Help you follow your preferences: If you fall in love with a particular producer’s “Dijon clone Pinot Noir” or “heritage clone Chardonnay,” you can seek out similar wines and explore that thread of flavor.

Most of all, it enriches the story in your glass. You’re no longer just drinking “Chardonnay” or “Pinot Noir,” but a carefully curated ensemble of living lineages, chosen and nurtured with intention.

A Final Sip: Clones as the Intimate Memory of the Vine

In the end, a grapevine clone is not some cold, sci‑fi replica, but a kind of vegetal memory. It is the echo of a single vine that, at some point in history, made someone stop, taste, and think: This is special. I want to keep this, exactly as it is.

Every time you drink a wine made from such vines, you’re tasting that decision. You’re tasting the preferences, the hopes, the quiet obsessions of growers and winemakers who chose one vine over another, one lineage over countless others. Clones are the way the vine’s past is carried into its future, like a cherished recipe passed down, unchanged, because it’s already perfect in its own delicious way.

So the next time you read about “Clone 777” or “Dijon 115,” don’t think of sterile laboratories. Think of a sun-drenched slope, a single vine that once stood out from the crowd, and the human hand that reached for its cane—gently, determined to let that particular expression of beauty live on in every glass.