People have been making wine in China at least since the Han dynasty (206BC-220AD) and perhaps even longer, judging from archaeological evidence. All Chinese schoolchildren memorise a classical Tang-dynasty poem that begins: "Fine wine glows in a luminous glass." Mao Zedong promoted the pleasures of wine and in 1956 asked Changyu, the country's oldest winery in Shandong, to expand production.
In 2024 China produced 118,000 kilolitres of wine, roughly equivalent to 160m bottles. The premium heartland is Ningxia, a region in north-western China close to the Gobi desert. Its capital, Yinchuan, sits at the same latitude as Napa Valley and gets 3,000 hours of fruit-ripening sun each year—the same as parts of Spain. The rocky soil drains quickly and allows vines to put down deep roots. However, the region's harsh winters mean viticulturists must bury their vines before temperatures plummet to -15°C. Ningxia has more than 40,000 hectares of vineyards; revenues from wineries in Yinchuan reached 36bn yuan ($5bn) in 2024, up 20% from the year before.
Chinese vintners are earning ever more accolades in international competition. In 2025 they claimed 181 medals at the Decanter World Wine Awards—sometimes referred to as the "Oscars of wine"—up from just three in 2007, with two wines proclaimed "best in show". China's haul was a fraction of France's or Italy's, but more than old-world countries such as Austria and Germany. Berry Bros & Rudd, Britain's oldest wine merchant, has observed that "China has the will and resource to become a very important player."
Xi Jinping serves local wine at state dinners. Jancis Robinson, the critic, noted in a 2023 blind tasting that Chinese wines "stand out as being less subtle" because the vines are less mature.
Ningxia is sometimes described as "China's Bordeaux". In the late 1990s a delegation of winemakers travelled to France to learn from viticulturists there. They were taught the importance of growing only a dozen clusters of high-quality grapes per vine instead of 20 or 30 less-flavourful ones. Firms in Ningxia grow many of the same grape varieties as Bordeaux, apply their methods, and age the wine in French oak barrels. LVMH set up Chandon China, a sparkling-wine producer in Ningxia, in 2013 and Ao Yun, a winery in Yunnan. Chinese vintners who trained abroad, such as Emma Gao of Silver Heights, have put theory into practice at home.
Ningxia's wine industry is part of a broader Chinese push into luxury foods. China is already the world's largest exporter of sturgeon caviar and truffles and is rapidly expanding into foie gras, olive oil and matcha. The mountainous Ningxia region's impressive wines sit alongside Gansu province's olive-oil industry and Guizhou's matcha tea.
Despite improvements, Chinese wines do not rank among the world's most coveted bottles. Beer or baijiu remain the tipples of choice; wine imports have dropped owing to covid-19, an economic slowdown and crackdowns on alcohol gifting among officials. Many Chinese fine wines cost as much as, if not more than, their old-world counterparts—Silver Heights bottles reach $250, Ao Yun exceeds $350—but lack the same cachet. American tariffs of 30% on Chinese goods hamper exports. The country's enormous variety of climates and soils means it can make everything from syrupy dessert wines to dry reds and whites, but realising that potential may take generations.
Gravity is a habit that is hard to shake off.