Hey! Have You Tried Ofori Brothers Wine?

I caught up with Kumi to talk wine, legacy, and what it means to belong.

Kumi came to wine as an outsider, but brought with him a founder’s eye, a son’s respect for memory, and a story worth sharing. Every bottle carries history and heat, crafted not to impress gatekeepers, but to honor roots.

I was born in the UK, moved to the US as a kid, and my family is originally from Ghana. Growing up in the US, I often felt a bit isolated. We didn’t have extended family around, just my immediate family. I never fully felt aligned with the US; part of me still felt tied to the UK, and my Ghanaian identity always felt deeply central. Those layered experiences have shaped my life, and they’re also core to the Ofori Brothers brand.

On How It All Started

I’ve always liked wine, just casually—not an aficionado or anything, it was just something I enjoyed. But one thing that’s always stuck with me is how, whenever I’d visit my mom, I’d never show up empty-handed. I’d always bring her a bottle of wine. It became this little thing between us, and I think it brought us closer.

That connection feels especially meaningful because my mom is the Ofori—that’s her maiden name—so she’s my link to the Ofori Brothers. She’s really the reason I got into wine in the first place. And I think it’s powerful that my introduction to wine came through a Black woman, especially when Black women make up the vast majority of my customer base. It feels full circle in a way. Even what drew me to the Ofori Brothers’ story—how it all started—came through her.

On Turning a Family Tree into a Wine Label

I have a background in entrepreneurship. I currently work at Google, at YouTube Music specifically, but my path to tech was pretty non-traditional. I actually took three years off college to co-found a startup. It started with a side quest—chess. I went to a tournament, got completely destroyed by a bunch of six- and seven-year-olds, and it lit a fire in me. I had a friend who was a seven-time national chess champion, and we ended up building an app to help people like me get better. I was the tech guy, he was the chess guy, and the whole thing went viral. We raised money, moved to Silicon Valley, and scaled it to over a million users. That experience really shaped how I think about building something from scratch.

So when this idea for a wine brand came to me, it felt like a natural next step—still rooted in entrepreneurship, but way more personal. The Ofori Brothers story is really about mapping my family tree, tracing it back eight generations, and building something that honors that legacy.

On Entering the Wine World Without Permission

Technically, my first step into the wine world was starting this brand. I came in as an outsider. But I’ve always had this mindset that if I have a strong idea and put in the effort, I can make it happen.

That said, wine is a pretty antiquated space. There’s a lot of gatekeeping, a heavy old-world influence, and a very specific idea of what’s considered “right.” I started by tapping my network—talking to a few sommeliers—but quickly realized I didn’t know anyone deeply embedded in the wine world. So I just started cold reaching out and hoping it would lead somewhere.

I did a ton of research, so by the time I got on the phone with people, I could hold my own—and I think that earned me a level of respect. Eventually, I found the right manufacturing partner, but it was nerve-wracking. I wasn’t an expert, and I was talking to people who had been in winemaking for generations. It quickly became clear that this was more complex than I’d expected.

That’s why I kept it quiet in the early days—only a handful of people knew I was working on this. I didn’t want to announce, “Hey, I’m launching a wine brand,” only to fall short. I needed the space to explore the idea on my own terms, especially because I wasn’t just making wine—I was trying to create an infusion, which felt almost impossible at the time. Keeping it private gave me room to figure it out.

On the Leap from Digital to Drinkable

I definitely credit my tech background for a lot of the operational and business skills that helped me move fast. I built the Ofori Brothers website myself—I actually coded it. There’s a lot behind the scenes that people don’t see, and honestly, some of it was just figuring it out as I went.

But I also knew my tech skills could only take me so far. Creating a CPG product—something people are actually going to drink—is a whole different ballgame. It’s physical, it’s sensory, it’s something that enters your body. That’s a huge shift from software. So I knew I had to be really thoughtful about how I stepped into this space and made something people would truly love.

On Flavor as Strategy and Storytelling

Early on in the ideation process, I knew I wanted to create some sort of infusion pairing, but I didn’t want it to be random. I consulted with a sommelier to get the science and flavor profile right, but I was also thinking about my community and what people I know actually enjoy. And one thing I kept hearing—especially from the girls—was, “I love Rieslings. I love Rieslings.” And I get it. Rieslings are sweet, but not over-the-top like a Moscato. They strike a balance.

Then there was ginger. Culturally, ginger is huge—it shows up in food, drinks, and even home remedies. It has this nourishing, restorative energy. That’s something that’s carried across the diaspora, too—like the whole thing of drinking ginger ale when you’re sick. Even if it's not medicinally accurate, it feels like care.

So I thought, okay—Riesling and ginger. It made sense to me, but I still wanted to validate it. I talked to flavor experts, got feedback, and then I’d casually mention the combo to people and watch their faces light up: “That sounds amazing!” And as an entrepreneur, that kind of visceral reaction told me I was onto something

On Data-Driven Drinking

This is where I really got to tap into my tech and business background. Once I decided on a Riesling and ginger infusion, I had to figure out the best way to actually make it. There were a few options—ginger extract, synthetic ginger flavor, or real ground ginger—and each had its own intensity and impact on taste. I knew the Riesling had to stand on its own, and I didn’t want the ginger to overpower it—I wanted it to enhance the wine, not distract from it.

Finding that balance was surprisingly tough. So I ran a pretty meticulous test. Around July 2024, I invited 15–20 friends over and held a blind tasting. I set up coded stations with different formulations—some were mine, some were controls (including non-Rieslings). Everyone had a randomized tasting order and filled out a feedback form with questions like: Can you taste the ginger? How sweet or dry is it? How would you rate it?

I collected all the data, ran it through AI, and did some statistical analysis to spot trends. Based on that, I did two more rounds of refinement. What I learned was kind of amazing: ground ginger actually gave the clearest, most resonant flavor—and it was the simplest to work with operationally.

But there was a twist. When I started using Ghanaian ginger—specifically chosen with help from the local farming team—it turned out to be way more intense than the U.S. ginger I’d used in my earlier tests. That changed some of the balance, so I had to adjust again.

All in all, it was a super meticulous process, but one that let me apply real data and strategy to a sensory product. Unlike tech, where users might click around a product, this was about people’s taste, and that’s incredibly subjective. I knew I wouldn’t please everyone, but I aimed for something that 80–85% of people would genuinely enjoy.

And it looks like I hit the mark. Since launch, the feedback has been overwhelmingly positive—even from people who’ve never met me. That’s when I knew this wasn’t just friends being supportive—this was actually working.

On Bridging Continents Through Craft

It’s been incredible to create something like this, and I’m hoping to do even more. Just to be fully transparent: the wine itself is produced here in the U.S., in Pennsylvania. But the ginger is sourced from Ghana and infused into the wine. I went that route for a reason. Making the wine in Ghana would’ve been logistically challenging—there aren’t many vineyards there, the climate isn’t right for Riesling, and there would’ve been major hurdles with quality control and import duties. I even explored cocoa wine, which exists in Ghana, but the flavor profile is totally different.

This approach felt like the best of both worlds—I could still center African identity in the story and the ingredients while producing a high-quality wine that’s easier to ship and scale.

That said, I’ve been really intentional about how I’ve told the story through branding and design. The label features a dark-skinned Black woman. Every part of the presentation is about making people feel seen, represented, and proud. I think that’s why the response has been so strong—people recognize that it’s for them.

On Breaking the Rules with Purpose

When I first started talking to sommeliers, they made it clear: what I was doing would be seen by some as a “perversion” of winemaking, especially by purists from the Old World wine tradition. There’s this idea that wine should be untouched, natural, and made in a very specific way. So adding something like ginger? That’s considered sacrilege in some circles.

But as a friend told me, “You’re not making a product for that world.” And they were right. My audience is completely different. There’s a rising middle class of Black wine drinkers—people embracing soft life, luxury, and indulgence on their own terms. You see it in pop culture too: LeBron, Dwyane Wade, Gabrielle Union, Issa Rae—more and more Black creators and icons are carving out space in wine. We’re building something for us.

So I didn’t let the old-world mindset limit what I was creating. I still wanted it to be excellent wine—balanced, complex, and thoughtful—but I also wanted to do something innovative. The ginger doesn’t take anything away from the wine. If anything, it adds a whole new dimension.

On Honoring the Craft While Changing the Story

I’ve been investing in my own wine education and working toward certifications, because I do believe wine is a craft. Yes, it can be pretentious, but it’s also something that’s been refined over centuries. I want to respect that tradition while also acknowledging that it hasn’t always included people like me.

The way I see it, we can honor that history and create something new—something bold, something ours. That doesn’t mean putting out a subpar product. It means forging a new lane, unapologetically. And that’s what I tried to do with the branding too. I wanted the bottle, the logo, all of it, to feel elevated and refined.

Sometimes, Afrocentric brands lean heavily into traditional imagery—like Adinkra symbols, or visuals that echo things like the Lion King aesthetic. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I wanted to show that African heritage can also look like legacy, elegance, and distinction. This is a fundamentally African story—but it’s being told in a new visual language.

On Elevating What’s Always Been Excellent

I think we’re seeing a lot of this conversation in the culinary world—chefs taking Nigerian or Ghanaian cuisines and bringing them into fine dining spaces. And yeah, there are valid critiques. Some people ask, “Why cater to Eurocentric standards? Why repackage traditional dishes into something dainty?” But I try to take a more optimistic view. These are incredibly rich, flavorful cuisines that have often been overlooked or dismissed as unsophisticated. Now, we’re saying no—these flavors deserve a seat at the table just like French or Italian food.

That’s the spirit I’m channeling, too. I think jollof rice is incredible. So is kelewele, so is shito. And wine—wine is a natural conversation starter. Sharing our culture through wine, and pairing it with the food we love, is a beautiful way to open people up to what we have to offer. Collaborating with chefs who are already doing that work feels like such an exciting next step.

On Turning Family History into a Living Tribute

All of this really started as a personal project—me tracing my family tree. I’ve talked to my therapist about it, actually, because I think it was filling a real void. Growing up in the U.S. without extended family around—no aunties or uncles—it felt a little like being on an island. So I started traveling to Ghana once or twice a year, visiting family in the UK, reconnecting with people I hadn’t grown up with. One of my uncles in Ghana, kind of the family historian, was the first to tell me about the Ofori Brothers.

They were five brothers—my great-grandfather and his siblings—who were cocoa merchants in early 1900s Ghana. They became hugely successful, and at one point were supplying 30% of Cadbury’s cocoa. I was blown away. My uncle showed me the Red Book of West Africa, which listed notable families from that era, and there they were. Learning all this was not only inspiring, but also grounding. The entrepreneurship, the values, the community impact—it all resonated with what I was already trying to do in my own life.

So I kept digging. I built a massive Ancestry.com tree, connected all these dots, uncovered family stories, even some family secrets. It helped me understand where I come from, and why some things are the way they are. When I saw the legacy of the Ofori Brothers still standing in our hometown, it just clicked—I wanted to honor that. Building a brand rooted in their story felt like the right way to do it.

And wine, with its agricultural roots, felt like the perfect fit. It’s a personal tribute, but also a way to share a story I think others—especially those in the diaspora—can connect with. Even beyond that, I think we all need more stories about legacy, beauty, and community—not just success in a commercial sense, but in how we show up for one another.

It was a pretty deep dive. I was talking to PhDs, piecing together academic journal articles, digging through rare books at the Schomburg in Harlem—just trying to find any historical references about my family. It definitely wasn’t just a casual Google search. I really had to flex those academic muscles to uncover what I did. And I recognize the privilege in that—not everyone has access to that level of research or those kinds of archives—so I’m incredibly grateful for what I was able to find.

On Making the Legacy Tangible

It was a huge honor—and it really hit me when I went to Ghana last December, about two weeks after I launched the brand. I’d timed the launch around my birthday, then flew out with a case of the wine and started visiting family members, gifting them bottles. That was actually the first time I told most of them about the project. Seeing their reactions—surprise, joy, pride—it meant everything.

There’s history in our family of people trying to launch things that didn’t quite pan out, so it felt important to show up with something fully realized. I think that made a real impact. My uncle immediately got on the phone with a cousin about setting up Ghana distribution. Everyone was excited. And I could tell that while the Ofori Brothers story has always meant a lot to us, it hasn’t been widely known across Ghana. This felt like a chance to share something beautiful on a bigger scale.

I try to be mindful about using terms like “excellence,” because I know they can come with baggage, sometimes tied to class or privilege. But what inspires me about the Ofori Brothers isn’t just their success—it’s how they built something bigger than themselves, and how their vision uplifted the community. That’s the legacy I’m most proud to carry forward.

On Making Community Part of the Craft

The Ofori Brothers were produce merchants, so farming and agriculture were a huge part of their story. In fact, I actually inherited some farmland from them in a region of Ghana called Mangoase. That connection made it really important for me to honor their legacy—not just by telling their story, but by continuing their commitment to community.

I knew I wanted to support and champion local farmers in Ghana, especially since agriculture is still one of the country’s largest export industries. So I made it a point to find an authentic, family-run farming business—one that’s been doing this work for generations. I visited their facilities, talked with them in depth about their process, and built a real partnership.

They’re a vital part of this project—one of the many hands and stages that make the wine possible—and I want to make sure their work is seen and celebrated.

On Scaling Without Losing the Soul

That’s actually something I’ve been asking myself a lot. When I launched this, it started as more of a personal project—but it got serious really fast. Like, for context, I invested 100% of my own capital into this. No outside funding, no family support. Just me. No co-founders, no team. And that gave me the freedom to build it exactly how I wanted, but now I’m feeling the pressure.

So yeah, I’ve been thinking—how far do I want to take this? What does growth actually look like for me? Because clearly, there’s something here. But even as I scale, I want to make sure I never lose sight of what makes this brand meaningful. The story of family, the roots, the intention behind it all—that’s the heart of it. And I want that to always stay front and center.

On Turning a Product Into a Presence

It’s a feeling, a taste, an experience—all of the above. From the moment you see it on a shelf or in someone’s home, it stands out. I’m using a flute-style, elongated bottle imported from France. It’s more expensive than a typical bottle, but that’s intentional—it’s meant to catch your eye, to make you pause.

Then there’s the label—a Black woman featured prominently in this bold, artistic way. It immediately draws you in. When you pour it, you smell the ginger, you taste that added complexity, that subtle spice. Every sensory element—sight, taste, touch—is meant to make you feel something. To make you think: this is different. This is special. And I think that’s what makes people fall in love with it, want to share it, support it, and come back for more.

On Belonging in the Wine Aisle

I want people to feel like they belong—that when they walk into a wine store, they can see themselves represented and not feel like this isn’t for them. I want the flavors of home to feel present and accessible. One of the taglines I’ve used is a taste of tradition, a taste of African tradition. Even just one sip of Ofori Brothers wine should give you that sense of connection to the continent, to your roots, to something bigger than yourself.

That idea of representation is foundational to the brand. It’s baked into everything. The Ginger-Infused Riesling is just the beginning. I won’t say too much yet, but I’m already excited about what’s coming next. The goal is to keep building on that idea—unique infusions that carry the spirit of the homeland with them.

On What This Wine Is Really About

I think what I really want people to feel is a sense of pride—and a sense of connection to a cultural tradition that’s been rooted in generations. Something that makes you feel like you’re experiencing more than just a drink. You’re part of something bigger. There’s this diasporic thread you’re tapping into—something rich, powerful, full of legacy. And I hope it leaves you with that feeling: pride, heritage, and connection.

You can find Ofiori Brothers Wine on Instagram, TikTok, and at ofioribrothers.com. Pour yourself a glass and stay awhile.