A Road Trip to Childress Vineyards

By Eric Surber



“No longer drink water exclusively, but use a little wine for the sake of your stomach and your frequent infirmities,” the Apostle Paul wrote in a letter to Timothy. The verse, encouraging the faithful to drink more wine, is written on the walls of Childress Vineyards in Lexington, N.C., where visitors can heed Paul’s advice.

The second weekend in October, I visited Childress Vineyards to ease my “frequent ailments” with

Craig Surber, my brother, his fiancé Alex Cook and 

I drive to Childress Vineyards. (Photo by Eric Surber)

bottles of Cabernet, live music, fresh food, the rolling hills, natural beauty and Tuscan vibes of the Yadkin River Valley “terroir.” It’s a French word (so sigh while leaving out the final “r”) that refers to the different aspects of climate and terrain that gives wine its regional flavor.

The drive is only 45 minutes from Greensboro, but passing through the iron gates and past buildings of terra cotta, stucco and wrought iron balconies, it feels like the it could’ve spanned continents.

The air seems crisper and the sun a little brighter. With some imagination, the landscape transports your senses across the Atlantic Ocean, 6000 miles away to a remote Tuscan vineyard, situated someplace between the Alps and the Mediterranean. Located between the Appalachians and the Outer Banks, perhaps Lexington isn’t so far from Tuscany.

The history of Childress Vineyards couldn’t be more American. Richard Childress, a NASCAR team owner, opened the winery in 2004 and fulfilled a life-long dream inspired by his experience racing. Childress began racing in California and visited wineries with friends. He chose North Carolina because of its racing history and the Yadkin River Valley AVA, which is a federally designated region for producing wine. Today, Childress Vineyards sells over 30 varieties of wine, has its own restaurant and hosts events throughout the year, including concerts and weddings.

It was a clear day and quintessentially fall. As the sun warmed people enough to shed their jackets, a chilly breeze would sweep over the hills, causing a frenzy of zippers. The crowd that came to “music in the vines” battled the fickle October elements, but after a few glasses of wine, it didn’t matter.

The music was a laid back acoustic variety sung by a wedded

These grapes tasted delicious. (Photo by Eric Surber)

After the lunch, I wandered into the vineyard. The vineyard is enormous, so enormous one can’t see past variety of Merlot, Cabernet, Chardonnay, Muscadine and Scuppernong grapes. Hidden among the tangle of vines were stray grapes that missed the September harvest. I ate one. The tiny grape, much smaller than a table grape, had a small seed and thick skin that burst when you bit through it. I ate another. They were delicious and I wanted to take a whole cluster of grapes, but Alex said she wouldn’t carry them in her purse, afraid they would turn into juice. So I grabbed a handful and walked back.


After two hours of listening to music, we decided to take advantage of the tours offered every hour. We took a bathroom pit stop, and walked to the fountain at 2:03 p.m., which was 3 minutes too late. Our guide, Holly, had already left with her group. Eager to join them, an pant-suited employee told us and 15 other late tourists, “turn right and take another right. You can’t miss them.”

We missed them. We turned right, took another right and found an unlocked door. Reasoning the group went through, we ventured in. It was the fermenting room with enormous metal vats that reached a 30-foot ceiling. In another room 120-gallon barrels of wine were stacked three high. A man walked past with a cart, rattling with wine bottles and beakers, but he didn’t question the group of lost

French oak wine barrels were stacked three 

high in the aging room, costing the vineyard $3,000 apiece. 

 tourists. One woman, the giggliest of the pack, even ventured into the locker room, and that’s when we decided to leave. Just as we slipped out and the door shut, Holly came down the stairs, pointer finger out, with her tour group.


“Here is the fermenting room,” she said, waving her pointer finger, “Now y’all come and join. Come on over.”

We joined her group, but didn’t mention our self-guided rendezvous just moments before. Holly described the entire process beginning with the juice and ending with the bottles. It became evident why a vintner would be a former NASCAR driver: The capitol investment would be enormous. The massive oak barrels stacked three high in the aging room were imported from France and cost $3,000 apiece, $1 million in barrels alone. Then there were the steal fermenting vats and bottling machine imported from Italy. Racing money could support the cost of such an elaborate operation.


Our tour ended with a wine tasting. There were two different tastings to chose from: a sweet and a dry. The dry run was slightly more expensive but included more expensive wines. After checking our IDs and getting out tasting cards, we began our odyssey from a $15 to a $50 bottle. Sadly, our wine expert, Sue, had a cap on the wine that limited her pours to 0.5 ounce, but after nine bottles the ounces started adding up.

Sue told us how to drink different wines. She gave us morsels of

Thanks Alex for DDing!

chocolate to open up the flavors and let the wine bloom. Swirl, smell, sip, hold, swallow, repeat, repeat, repeat… Each wine had personality. The Chardonnay was elegant and clean. The Merlot was so dry it tasted almost crusty. My favorite, the Cabernet, was complex, as the oak flavor from the aging barrels penetrated the wine. The wine was “brassy with a hint of chocolate” according to Sue. I didn’t buy her description, but I’m not an expert.

A day spent at Childress Vineyards felt like a trip to Tuscany. The food and wine was delicious, and our mild intoxication warped my sense of time. Luckily Alex, our designated driver, brought us back to a sober reality, our infirmities soothed.