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The Hare Story: From O'Hara to O'Hare to Hare

I'm John Hare, and the easiest way to understand this place is to start with our name. It began as O'Hara in Ireland. After the famine the family crossed to Scotland and it became O'Hare. When my grandfather and his brother landed in Canada, the O was dropped, and we have been Hare ever since. My aunt, our family historian, traced us back to 1634. Three countries, one family, and a story I get to tell in person most days on the floor here in Niagara-on-the-Lake.

On my father's side we are Scottish. As kids, the first thing we did at my grandmother's was bolt for the back pantry, where the shortbread and ginger snaps were waiting. That is why we make Grandma Hare's Scottish Shortbread today, from the same recipe (only four delicious ingredients), and why every dollar of proceeds goes to Gillian's Place, a local women's shelter.

On my mother's side we are Bulgarian. In the '90s I taught myself the Cyrillic alphabet and about forty words, flew to Sofia, took the train to Shumen, and met cousins I had only known through letters. My great-grandfather grew grapes there, and the family still owns and manages 80 hectares of vineyards to this day. To honour both sides, we bring Bulgarian Cabernet Sauvignon together with our Niagara fruit and make a wine we call Haretage. The three nieces from that first trip are on the back label. Of everything we make, it is the one I am proudest of.

You will feel all of this in the room, in 115-year-old reclaimed Detroit brick and 150-year-old barn board, and at the 22 harvest tables I insisted on, because this is a place to sit down and stay a while. Come find me on the floor.

See you soon. John.