BEAMSVILLE, ONT.—On a dark winter morning in 1998, Joseph DeMaria was awakened by the thought of a costly mistake. His mind saw in his sleep what it had missed all day — he'd botched his first attempt to make icewine.

Local residents would not have been surprised. Since buying a vineyard and moving from the big city, DeMaria heard talk about "the crazy hairdresser from Toronto." They meant him.

It was 2 a.m. He dressed and drove to his winery, not far from the home he rented. Some 4,500 litres were fermenting in an improvised cellar in the garage. He reviewed his winemaking books and confirmed his fears: He'd missed a step.

At that point — three quarters of the way into the fermenting process — DeMaria figured he had nothing left to lose. So, he says, he got creative, though he won't specify exactly how.

"It's like making a sauce," he says. "Let's throw something in and see what happens."

Whatever he did worked: That batch of 1998 Vidal icewine won five awards, including a silver medal at the respected Vinitaly exhibition. The reputation of his winery, Royal DeMaria, took off. International awards poured in, including a record five gold medals in one year from the France-based Citadelles du Vin competition.

He distinguished himself by making icewine with unusual varieties of grapes and selling at high prices. Early vintages of his sweet nectar — squeezed from grapes that sustained steady blasts of at least -8C on the vine — are advertised at thousands of dollars for each small bottle.

And then everything went sour.

DeMaria's winery is the target of the first full-fledged court battle in the 15-year history of Vintners Quality Alliance Ontario, the agency that regulates winemaking and labeling for Ontario wines. DeMaria's wines have repeatedly failed mandatory taste tests and the VQA has charged him with illegally using the words icewine, Niagara Peninsula and VQA on his labels.

A precedent-setting ruling by the Provincial Offences Court is expected June 24, and the future of DeMaria's winery rides on the outcome.

"They've pushed my whole family up against the wall," DeMaria, a father of four, says of the VQA. "We've been trying to breathe for almost five years, and we're just squeaking by."

His case highlights a growing concern with the VQA's mandatory taste test. The VQA sees it as an important part of quality control. But DeMaria and others denounce it for encouraging homogeneity at the expense of creativity and the unique flavours of local soils.

Norman Hardie is the most high-profile voice against the test. He spent five years on the VQA's board of directors before resigning this week, partly to be free to criticize the test publicly.

Hardie credits the test with raising winemaking standards in the early days of Ontario's industry, when plonk flowed freely. But he argues it now stunts innovation and greatness by applying a "fault free" taste standard that encourages middle-of-the-road conformity.

"Many of the great wines of the world have faults in them," says Hardie, a Prince Edward County winemaker. "A small amount of fault can be very endearing."

The 1999 VQA Act regulates the use of 37 terms, including VQA, icewine and late harvest wine, along with geographical names such as Niagara Peninsula and Prince Edward County. Only wineries that receive VQA approval can use the terms, a process that includes passing both a lab analysis and a taste test.

The VQA, whose directors include industry representatives, approved almost 22 million litres of wine during the year ending March 2013. The year since then saw VQA wine sales of $395 million — up 58 per cent from five years ago.

DeMaria entered the business in 1996, buying a 25-acre vineyard in Beamsville. If he was seen as an outsider, the label probably fit.

He was raised by a single mother in a low-income Toronto community near Jane St. and Weston Rd. In 1990, he opened a hairdressing salon in Bloor West Village and met his wife on the job. He still styles and cuts hair there once a week.

He has a knack for attracting attention. Last year, CNN produced a 2-minute feature on DeMaria and his 2000 Chardonnay icewine, which he calls "the jewel of Canada." He's asking $250,000 a bottle. There haven't been buyers at that price. But he says he sold one a few years ago in New York for $30,000.

He suspects his awards and high profile ruffled some industry feathers. And now, "they're saying we have to get this guy out."

He says he began having trouble with the VQA taste test as early as 2004. In 2011, after failing to pass a DeMaria wine for 18 months, the VQA enforced a bylaw that lapsed his membership in the agency. It gave DeMaria a year's grace period and then banned his winery from using regulated words on all his labels.

In January, 2013, VQA investigators posing as customers showed up at his winery. They bought two bottles of icewine and DeMaria got charged with illegal use of the regulated terms — even though the vintages sold had previously received VQA approval. The agency insists DeMaria lost the right to sell approved products after his membership and grace period lapsed.

Laurie Macdonald, the VQA's executive director, won't discuss DeMaria's case while it's before the courts. She says the VQA has no authority to audit a winery when its membership lapses. There's no way of knowing, for example, if an approved vintage is bottled within the required one-year time limit. So, all previous approvals are revoked.

The VQA also charged DeMaria's winery with using regulated terms on previously approved vintages advertised on its website. If he loses in court, he faces fines under the Act of up to $100,000.

DeMaria's lawyer, Patrick Cotter, argues the VQA lacks the regulatory power to revoke approvals in one fell swoop. It can only do so one wine at a time, and only after noting specific quality concerns.

The precedent the court sets on this issue will determine the fate of some 6,000 approved bottles in DeMaria's cellar. Their value drops significantly if he can no longer call them icewine.

Complicating matters is the company logo on DeMaria's labels — "Canada's Icewine Specialists." He got that as a federally-registered trademark in 2005. The VQA initially opposed the move and then relented. But it informed DeMaria in writing that provincial legislation permits the trademark only on VQA-approved icewines. In court, DeMaria's lawyer has raised a constitutional issue, arguing that federal laws trump provincial ones.

If DeMaria loses that fight, he loses complete use of "icewine," a word at the heart of his winery's reputation and marketing.

He blames much of his troubles on the mandatory taste test. He notes that some of his failed icewines went on to win international awards.

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Macdonald acknowledges the VQA is discussing the taste test's future. But she defends it as crucial to ensuring the integrity of wine labels, particularly when a growing volume of fake Canadian icewine is being produced in Asia.

The VQA contracts out testing to the LCBO in Toronto. It takes place in a quiet white room on Freeland St., a block north of Lake Ontario, where the main sound is the sucking and aerating of wine. The tasters are LCBO product consultants whose continuous training includes an annual sensory test they must pass.

The VQA test is "blind:" Tasters are told only the grape variety, the vintage year and the type of wine (ice, sparkling or table). They note a wine's colour, aroma, flavour and overall harmony, ticking off boxes on a computer program that produces a pass or fail score. The taste panel has five members and a majority vote decides a wine's future.

While the Star visited Monday, taster Antonio Ruscetta spotted a too-effervescent Pinot Gris, its fermentation likely cut short. "You can taste the Pinot Gris but there is a yeastiness in the background," he said. He failed it.

When a wine fails, another panel will taste a different bottle of the same wine. If it fails again, the winemaker can resubmit the wine for tasting two more times. The last hope after that is a non-LCBO appeal panel of sommeliers, winemakers and members of the hospitality industry.

DeMaria provided two bottles of his icewine to the Star for tasting. One was a 2007 Pinot Blanc, which failed the VQA taste test. Gordon Stimmell, the Star's respected wine critic, pronounced it "stinky" and "dreadful."

"It's like liquid raisins," he says.

Stimmell called the other bottle, an approved 2008 Cabernet Franc, "very nice." He sensed a floral red apple blossom and hint of nectarine rounding out the bouquet.

For winemaker François Morissette of Pearl Morissette Estate Winery, it's not about the taste panel getting it right or wrong. He questions why it exists.

In 2010, he produced a Riesling the VQA rejected as not having a Riesling's typical taste, a criteria the VQA calls "typicity."

Morissette labeled that Riesling "Cuvée Black Ball" and sells it without VQA approval. But he pays a heavy price. On a $25 bottle of wine approved by the VQA, Morissette pays $5 in tax when it is sold to restaurants. Without VQA approval, he pays a $13 tax.

Wine experts rave about Morissette's Riesling. Stimmell calls it "wonderful." And it sells well in restaurants in Toronto, New York, Paris and London.

He has since had other wines fail the taste test and fears his business is in jeopardy. But he won't compromise. "I'm not going to start making wines that will please the tasting panel," he says.

The United States does not put its wines through a taste test. They are used to certify appellations in Europe, but Norman Hardie says those tests don't use "fault free" as a standard.

Hardie, the former VQA board member with a winery that produces 12,000 cases a year, says the "fault free" standard creates a conflict in the VQA's mandate: It wants wines with distinct geographic origins yet penalizes those that taste of local soils.

Prince Edward County soils, for example, have high pH levels, suggesting high acidity, and lots of active limestone. This naturally produces wines that have a fault called "reduction" — hints of sulfur or fresh oyster shells. Some wines from the famous Burgundy region of France have similar smells.

His 2008 Chardonnay was rejected by VQA tasters and barely approved by the appeal panel — a process that took a costly 70 days. Wine Spectator magazine named it wine of the year.

"The VQA needs to change the mandate of what the tasters are looking for," he adds. "Or, possibly, at this point we say it's time we let consumers make up their minds and winemakers don't need to be told what to make by a government body," Hardie says.

DeMaria's court case won't decide the future of the VQA taste test. But if his trademark and VQA approvals are revoked, he'll be reduced to selling grapes to other wineries, and lower priced Winter Harvest to loyal customers.

With so much uncertainty, he recently agreed to sell his winery, but the offer he received fell through.