One of the things that I love about EastCoast wines is that they're so antithetical to the traditional EastCoast vs. West Coast narrative: the West Coast is a hub of innovation and youthful imperfection; the EastCoast is old and storied and stodgy. When it comes to wine, it's the reverse. The West Coast has the storied (by American standards, at least) terroir. The EastCoast is the new frontier. Hybrids, co-ferments, and wines made in the suburbs—it all goes East.
One other thing that I love is that the wines reflect a sense of place that feels both difficult to communicate and intensely familiar to me. They're austere and steely—wines born of harsh winters, slightly cynical people, and the timeless battle between industry and nature. Their survival and resurgence is a beautiful story and one that tells itself through frenetic energy. The fact that all of that can be communicated through a glass of wine is, frankly, pretty fucking incredible.