Haydn Adams | December 13, 2024

Dragon Flower Winery

Central Florida
Test

As I sat in the back of my friend’s car—a friend who also happens to be a local—I looked around at the scenery as we neared the winery. Random houses dotted either side of the road, some hundreds of feet apart, others just a yard or two. There was no real indication of agriculture around here, just a mix of residences and uncleared brush from unclaimed plots of land. And then it appeared: Welcome to Dragon Flower Winery.

We quickly slowed the car and turned 90 degrees onto the driveway leading to the tasting room, passing what I assumed to be the most predominantly grown grape in Florida—Muscadine. The naturally sweet grape defines Florida viticulture. More on that grape in a bit.

I have a rule: I don’t judge a winery by its geography, nor do I assume what is hiding behind door #2. If we can get avocados from Mexico in New York year-round, then grapes from different wine-growing regions can enter the state of Florida. Still, seeing the grapes upon approach made me wonder.

At first glance, the winery was just one rectangular tasting room with a few seats outside. Walking in, I noticed a few multi-colored bottles of vino on display. I had hope that there would be rosé, varietal notwithstanding. My curiosity continued with the tasting.

A lovely staff member gave us a quick CliffNotes-style rundown of the winery and explained that tastings were $0.75 each. That’s a first. After looking at the tasting sheet, she figured I was in for the full monty (expression, not a wine) and said, “I think you’re in for all 10.” I agreed. Set ‘em up.

The now $7.50 tasting of all 10 wines was served on a wooden paddle, complete with small plastic mini cups. The wines were arranged from dry to literally sweet, as she explained. “Start here and work your way there,” she said, pointing to the first cup on the tasting board. Deal.

Before we picked up our tasting boards to sit, she asked if we wanted any food as well. Given that it was mid-afternoon and we had opted for the full monty, we decided yes and ordered the flatbread.

She started our tab and suggested we head out the back door. “You’ll be surprised,” she said, pointing towards the exit. What could possibly go wrong, we thought.

The backside of Dragon Flower Winery was just as surprising as the wines poured. An extensive seating area, complete with shade and fans, awaited us. It was a rare sub-60-degree day in Florida, so we opted for the most sunshine per square foot. Seating and wine procured, it was time to give these wines a try.

The wines started on the dry and imported side. A Cabernet Sauvignon and a red blend (Petite Sirah, Cab, and Zin) kicked things off. Nothing like a little sip of something familiar to prepare for the next set.

Then came the unique and mysterious wines: Hibiscus, Strawberry, and Dragon’s Blood. If you haven’t brought your adventurous spirit, don’t pass go—stick to the Cab. But if you’re ready for something off the beaten path, welcome—you’ve arrived.

If you’ve made it that far into the tasting, you’re rewarded with some more familiar wines at the end: Muscadine and Moscato. They even had my favorite-named grape of all time—Carlos, a Muscadine clone. The Muscadine grape is naturally sweet, thriving in Florida’s climate—a statement I can’t metaphorically connect to the rest of the state.

The flatbread arrived halfway through our tasting. Kicking back in jackets and blue jeans in Florida, eating an amazing flatbread at a winery I’d only heard about some 45 minutes earlier, and sipping on literal strawberry wine wasn’t exactly on my bucket list when I told my friend I wanted to try a Florida winery. But here we were. And that’s how one rolls at Dragon Flower Winery.