While it won't rival Napa or Sonoma anytime soon, the Gulfshore has a burgeoning contingent of vintners who this year will turn 80 tons of grapes into toast-worthy wines. Within the aromatic confines of The Barrel Room at Sasse il Pizzaiuolo in Fort Myers, would-be winemakers follow in the grape-stained footsteps of renowned dynasties whose founders first made wine far from the prized terroirs of California and Europe.

"The Mondavis lived in Michigan and the Gallos started in Brooklyn," says Michael Gavala, the chef-owner of Sasse's and founder of the winemaking school. "They'd bring in rail cars loaded with grapes and the whole neighborhood got together to make wine."

Thirty years ago, long before Gavala graduated from the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, N.Y., and became a chef, his Italian-born grandfather taught him the ancient art of winemaking in his hometown of Elizabeth, N.J. Gavala and his wife, Karen, moved to Southwest Florida in the mid-1990s, where they bought Sasse's. The diminutive restaurant in a nondescript strip center has a large, enthusiastic following attracted by good food, modest prices and portions that would do an Italian mother proud.

But Gavala missed making wine, and he decided to see if he could replicate the process in Florida. He and five friends made a barrel of red in one partner's garage. The product-dubbed the Six Paesano Blend-was so good, he figured other oenophiles would like to try it, too. There are some 25 such schools throughout New Jersey, Gavala says, but so far The Barrel Room is Florida's only from-scratch winemaking school. (Most winemaking concerns start with pasteurized grape juice.)

Within weeks of opening the school in 2002, Gavala had signed up some 400 people who subsequently produced 76 barrels of wine. The fee of about $2,000 a barrel covers grapes, instruction, oak barrel, and storage during the year-long process. Depending on the type, a bottle of wine winds up costing $8 to $12. That also includes a much-valued perk: the ability to make reservations at Sasse's.

From its outset, the student body was an eclectic mix of retirees, physicians, lawyers, real estate and investment tycoons, wine distributors, chefs and all-around foodies. One of the students, semi-retired Wall Street investment banker Vito Soranno of Bonita Springs, grew up in Brooklyn, where his Italian uncles and neighbors made wine every fall. "I can remember the big tractor-trailers pulling up to the curb and all the old-time Italians lining up to buy their grapes and make their own wine," he says.

In later years, he and his wife, Judy, made several trips to Napa in California during harvest season. "We got great enjoyment in watching the operation," he says, "but it's a horse of a different color doing it yourself-opening the boxes of grapes, throwing them into the crusher and stemmer. You end up with grape juice all over, but there's great satisfaction in doing it yourself."

The Sorannos gathered seven other couples and went in together on two barrels-a cabernet-merlot blend and an old-vine zinfandel.

"We had such a great time, we decided to do it again," Soranno says. This year there were 22 varieties from which to choose, including higher-end types such as the Carneros pinot noir his group is making.

Naples resident Rick Kraska, owner of a company called Employee Professionals, has consumed and collected wine for 30 years. He dreams of one day opening a winery in California, but for now he's settled for a share of the wine aging in two oak barrels at the school's climate- and humidity-controlled warehouse. He got involved after dining at Sasse's and seeing the winemakers and barrels through the window between The Barrel Room and the restaurant.

When a server told him the wine was made from California grapes, "my antennae went up to the ceiling," he says. He gathered a group and they invested in two barrels. Of the crushing, pressing and barreling, Kraska says, "We had a great time and it's great for socializing."

The process starts in September, when the grapes begin to arrive just days after California growers harvest them. Barrel mates, clad in their grubbiest clothes, pry open crate after wooden crate of grapes and crush them. In a departure from traditional home technique, there's no stomping here. A machine crushes and stems the grapes, leaving a pulpy juice.

Gavala also departs from the old school when he breaks out test tubes, beakers and meters to assess the juice's potential. For every batch of wine, he carefully measures the sugar content, adjusting acidity and sulfite levels to ensure a palatable acid-to-sugar balance.

Then the winemakers pack the mixture into a powerful bladder press that squeezes out the juice but retains most of the skins and debris. It's pumped into an oak barrel, where it ages for almost a year. In February, winemakers return to pump out the barrel, remove sediment that collects during fermentation and taste the wine-in-progress before returning it to the barrel.

Soranno's group got nervous when they tasted their wine last winter. "When we barreled it, it tasted very good-young, but good," he says. "When we racked it, it tasted bitter. We thought we'd get something that was only good for taking bugs off cars." But by October, when they bottled it, the wine had mellowed. It's now aging for another six months to a year in bottles. Meanwhile, the groups are designing and printing personalized labels. One of the Sorannos' is Chateau La Feet.

Even though the final judgment is still out on the first year's product, plenty of people were eager to get in on the second year's crop. Last fall, Gavala expanded the school, and 800 people crushed, pressed and barreled 160,000 pounds of grapes.

He expects to open a second school in Sarasota this fall, and possibly one in Fort Lauderdale after that.

"There are many wine connoisseurs here, people who travel the world and really enjoy food and wine," he says. "We've got a good chance of this really taking off."