Natural Wines Revisited - Not The Last Word
This article was prompted by a recent tasting of natural wines. I was thinking as we were pingponging definitions to and fro that I should corral all my hobby-horses in one field and then ride them off in all directions simultaneously. The subject deserves stringent analysis but also an emotional input. For all that we invoke science and talk blithely about “the correctness of wines” one should never forget that natural wines are produced by intelligent and passionate farmers who view themselves as interpreters of nature rather than its master. Billions of gallons of faultily faultless wines are manufactured every year and absorbed into the system; the relative wilderness outside the big tent is where the excitement lies. There are more things in heaven and earth indeed…
Definition
A natural wine is a wine made in small quantities,
• by an independent producer,
• on low yielding vineyards
• from handpicked, organically grown grapes,
• without added sugars or foreign yeasts
• without adjustments for acidity,
• without micro-oxygenation or reverse-osmosis.
Most natural wines are neither filtered nor fined. The few that are will either be filtered extremely lightly or fined with organic egg-white.
A natural wine will generally contain no more than,
• 10 mg/l total sulphur if red,
• 25 mg/l total sulphur if white.
With thanks to Morethanorganic.com
History
Forty years ago biodynamic winemaking was virtually unheard of and, until recently, it was critically dismissed as not much more than a fad. Now there are over 500 growers worldwide, many of who are indisputably amongst the leaders in their appellations and countries.
The natural wine movement is relatively young – perhaps ten to fifteen years old at most. The first growers such as Thierry Puzelat and Pierre Breton experimented with low sulphur techniques, made many mistakes and ruined a lot of wine. As they grew to understand what they were doing the quality of their wines improved immeasurably. The premise was simple: it seemed logical that if you worked so diligently producing grapes without chemical interventions that you should follow a similar purist course of action in the winery. Natural wine entails minimal interventions and although the argument is often posed that natural wine must, per se, be a contradiction in terms, because truly natural wine would, by definition, be vinegar, this is mere semantics; vinegar is vinegar and we are speaking about wine. Just as there is dedicated activity in the vineyard that determines the quality of the grapes – be it conventional, organic or biodynamic - so there is a winery, a place in which the vigneron makes the specific choices (such as the length of macerations, the nature of ferments, the ageing of the wine) that shape and transform elemental juice into a wine. The natural philosophy dictates that these natural wines should have neither additions nor subtractions nor overt manipulations – it is as simple as that.
Inquisitive and iconoclastic, these young growers continue to push the boundaries. When you talk with them you sense an ingrained cynicism about the status quo and the “market”, and a healthy and intelligent distrust of political structures. More and more growers have climbed on to the bandwagon, especially from the Loire, and now around one hundred and twenty attend the annual festival of La Dive Bouteille in Deauville organised by Sylvie Ogereau. Other companion movements such as Slow Food, Vini Veri, Renaissance des Appellations have their own respective agendas and manifestos, and, whilst there is no absolute definition of natural wine, it has recently become more strongly associated with those particular wines which have no or low sulphur additions.
Natural Wine & Terroir
The preconditions for natural wine are contained within the aspirations set out by Slow Food France in a document that highlights the importance of terroir and environment.
Without wishing to delve too deeply into current breast-beating debates about appellation controllée it is worth looking at the manifesto of a group of French growers who are questioning the concepts and practices of the AOC and wish to contribute to a debate inaugurated by a steering committee set up by the French government a few years ago. Part of a proposed “new dynamic of French wine for 2010” was “to become leader in practices that are respectful of the environment”.
The growers have a specific agenda beyond the vague accord of “respect”. The primary tenet is that each wine shall be the full expression of its terroir; that each wine “be good, healthy, great and structured when the conditions permit this… above all, that these wines give people a desire to drink them, wines simply and solely made from the grapes of our (sic) vineyards, wines which have the peculiar characteristics of our grape varieties, of our particular terroirs, of our special characters… our common will is to work our soil while respecting nature, as craftsmen seeking harmony between nature and man…”
The expression “labouring the soil” recurs in the manifesto. Everyone has their different approaches and their own history as a winemaker, but all are linked by certain aims. Although the practices in the vines and the cellars could never be codified in a strict charter, there is a rational attempt to tie together essential common practice. The priorities are: the life of the soil; a search for terroir; selection massale; the attachment to historic grape varieties and the refusal of the increasing trend to plant standard varieties; the use of organic treatments; the search for good vine health through natural balance; the refusal of GMOs; the prudent use of chemical plant treatments; the search for full maturity; manual harvests; the respect for the variability of vintages; the refusal to chaptalize systematically; natural fermentations; a sparing or zero use of SO2; minimum or no filtration; the refusal of standard definition of taste of wines by certain enological or market trends; the possibility of experimenting and questioning different aspects of work; respect of history, of roots…
Most of the growers in this list make wines in a specific context of geography, geology, climate, history and cultural specificity that leaves open the possibility for maximum expression of personality and individuality. Tasting, analytical and organoleptic examination, consumer acceptance panels, however, can stifle creativity and become a “guillotine to submit nature and the winemaker’s personality to a rule”. Instead of becoming an instrument for standardization, tastings must become an instrument to check the respect of diversity. This requires a massive philosophical shift on behalf of those arbiters of appellation controllée, as well as tasters, journalists and the public itself. By understanding and promoting typicity and by espousing natural or organic practices in the vineyard, the Slow Food growers are creating a sensible foundation for a renewed appellation controllée system, one that rewards richness of diversity and complexity.
Who Drinks Natural Wines?
The natural wine movement draws in mainly young people who enjoy wine for various reasons: firstly, as part of a healthy, balanced diet; secondly, as an ethical statement (supporting sustainable growers) and, leading on from that, as a rebellion against brands and stifling conformity. Supporting the artisan grower, that defender of the indigenous grape, the terroir and the land, may appear a romantic notion, but I suspect more people are beginning to select wines on the basis of provenance. We have no problem shopping around and choosing healthy and nourishing food that comes from small producers – the success of farmers’ markets is a testament to the desire for traceability; there is no reason why we should not similarly discriminate in our wine choices.
Natural wine is, of course, a major phenomenon in Paris. Wine bars, shops and even their customers seem to forge personal relationships with each of the growers who hand-sell their wines in person. Vignerons will bottle special cuvées (and put on the labels by hand) just for a single wine bar; it doesn’t get much more artisan than that.
Appreciated for their low-sulphur content (health reasons) natural wines are also popular in Japan. The Japanese have always been fastidious about the quality of the raw ingredient (witness their passion sushi); this is a natural extension of that exacting attention to detail.
Whereas the natural wine movement has many strong articulate proponents in the US (Alice Feiring, Dressner, Eric Asimov amongst others) with a number of excellent shops and bars as well as web sites dedicated to promoting the wines, in the UK it has barely registered on people’s consciousness at all. Terroirs and Artisan and Vine are two bars devoted to natural wines from small growers, a cause also championed by Kate Thal in her excellent shop and bar, Green and Blue, in East Dulwich. Les Caves de Pyrène (with the Real Wine agenda), Vine Trail, Dynamic Wines, Maison Aubert and Sous Le Nez cover the majority of natural winemakers between them. Until a festival of natural wine is held in this country, I suspect natural wine will be considered the sole preserve of passionate eccentrics.
A Matter of Taste
People with little or no knowledge of wine might find these wines appealing, was one argument, but those who had a given knowledge would be resistant to its charms. I would say the opposite: I believe that my palate has evolved to look for the real wine behind the maquillage; I am not interested in over-endowed “bimbo wines”. I find also that sommeliers from wine-producing regions are intrigued and excited to discover wines like these are being commercialised – these are the original, boutique, cellar door wines.
“The winemaker has a duty of care to consumers to produce wines that are consistent and faultless.” Critics presume that natural wines are not only inherently faulty but they are proud to flaunt their faults. Truly, however, faults are in the palate of the beholder for the conventional, trammelled taster will identify faults using normative values. Natural wines aren’t aiming at consistency, a template of exactitude, but why, in any case, is consistency considered to be such a desirable quality? Do we want every wine to taste the same; do we want every mouthful in every bottle to be identical? We are not robots, so why should we demand robotic uniformity? We can achieve that with chemicals in a laboratory. The beauty of natural wine is that it tracks variability and vulnerability; like a human being it is living and mutable. It is the counsel of dullness to dictate absolute consistency for what makes the wines truly individual is ultimately their faults, not their similarities. “What would the world be, once bereft of wet and wildness? Let them be left. O let them be left, wildness and wet; Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.” (Gerard Manly Hopkins)
We assume that correctness at all costs in wine is right. Is not a mass produced cheap wine full of additives a mere simulacrum of wine. How many manipulations can a wine undergo and still have the merit of being labelled wine? And it is the same with food. That pasteurised-to-putty, cellophane-wrapped, so-called cheese in supermarket chill cabinets bears no resemblance to the artisan product that we know to be cheese – yet they are both entitled to be described as cheese. The analogy was drawn that a shirt from Primark was no less a shirt than a shirt from Prada to which I would reply that all shirts are a necessity in that they cover our bodies and keep us warm, but wearing an expensive shirt is a luxury. We have a choice with wine, just as we do with eating free range eggs or those produced by battery hens. The more the consumer understands the processes by which wine can be made, the more likely they will make an informed choice and trade up to buy and drink ethical or natural wines.
The duty of care argument is tantamount to reductio ad mediocratas, positing that supermarkets will never carry a product which they cannot absolutely guarantee, simply because they are afraid that their customers won’t like it. Without risk there is no genius, no excitement, no passion. Winemakers should be true to themselves and the people whose opinions they esteem. It is a matter of self-respect as well as an article of belief that the truest representation of terroir can only be achieved with the minimum of interventions. The hypothetical customer shopping at Tesco is an irrelevance. The expression of the truth of the vineyard and the vintage takes precedence over the palate of the imaginary consumer or the so-called arbiters of taste. Vignerons are not just producers of fermented grape juice; they are artists and the integrity of what they create matters more than what the critics think. Our job as a wine merchant is to expose people to their wines, to proselytise, to challenge the quotidian and shake the complacency of those who believe that they always know what is right for the consumer.
Conventional versus Natural
Most conventional winemakers undeniably make wine by processing grapes and yeasts to a formula with an eye for public approbation, to gain prizes in competitions and listings in supermarkets. Their work is a kind of profiling: correction and compensation (and consistency) are the watchwords – the wine must be transformed or refined into an “end product”. Those who seek a further “impressiveness” are aiming at a kind of facile fabulousness; they are as chefs who enjoy finically arranging ingredients on the plate, prettifying the result until it has the facsimile of beauty. A great wine is not great because of high seriousness or bombast; its greatness resides in its individuality, whereby the taster recognises its inherent qualities.
As Charles Lamb said: Damn posterity! I will write for today. Most natural winemakers make wine for the present without fear or favour. They use instinct rather than precise calibrations and are prepared to accept that the wine will be different from year to year. They make wines for themselves because they can’t please everyone all the time. They see themselves as channellers or interpreters of great raw material rather than makers of wine. Their intention is generally to produce wines sans maquillage, which a pleasure to drink and simple to understand, rather than pretentious or spoofy.
Natural winemakers don’t enter wine competitions, they rarely seek certification, or chase publicity or critical approval; they defiantly leave the boxes unticked. Many producers wouldn’t belong to a club that would have them as members, drop out of the appellation system and label their wines “vin de table.” The press and the public like certainty and affirmation of popular biases, whereas true science teaches us to doubt. Integrity has no need of rules or benchmarks, and genius, as Goethe wrote, is love of the truth. The genius of natural wine is that it expresses the truth of where it comes from, rather than hiding that truth under a welter of supernumerary interventions.
Natural wine is a shot in the arm (or a shot across the bows) for the deeply conservative wine trade. What we call choice is an illusion; in reality it is more of the same. So many restaurant wine lists offer no alternative to the reams of highly manufactured wines (most of which are virtually undrinkable with food). Supermarkets offer still less choice and that stacked to the ceiling. Perfectibility in wine is the notion that you can make wine better by throwing marketing money at the process. The wines whose aim is no higher than the price are the equivalent of the emperor’s new clothes – behind the hype, behind the pseudo-trappings, there is a clinical obviousness, hollowness and a lack of soul.
Responses to Natural Wines
The tasting was held on Monday 21st September (a fruit day, since you ask) at Vivat Bacchus in Farringdon Road and featured nine natural wines selected by Tim and myself for maximum discomfort. The tasters were a high calibre mix of writers and wine educators. Some were obviously doubting Thomases and Thomasinas, others were more open-minded.
Expectation invariably plays a part in tastings like these. Even the most experienced and objective tasters carry deeply ingrained prejudices since responses to wine are inevitably based on a mixture what is perceived as technically correct and what you like to drink. If our palates are not calibrated in a particular way we do not recognise and therefore respond favourably to a certain set of flavours. So the tasting was part journey, part attempted education – some people wouldn’t budge a jot, others might move a little bit and a few might have their scepticism more than tempered. One should always be humble in front of a wine and never too prescriptive about how it should taste even if one doesn’t like it.
Before I move on to the specific wines in the tasting it might be instructive to examine certain qualities that all the wines shared. One tastes lightness and freshness; the intensive work in the vineyard evidently enables the grapes to reach physiological ripeness at lower levels of alcohol and the wine exhibit a deliciousness that derives from absence of extraction, lack of new oak and a seam of natural, balanced acidity.
One taster commented that all the reds evinced a grapey quality which made it challenging to distinguish one wine from another. Discerning nuances is more difficult if you are exposed to several examples of natural wines for the first time and it is natural, to coin a word, to focus on their immediacy and primary character but, in reality, we can detect innumerable distinctions – even different bottles reveal subtle differences. The Grolleau from Olivier Cousin, for example, was youthful, purple, ebullient, packed with juicy red fruits – here we can taste the results of carbonic maceration; the Saint-Joseph, by contrast, was more structured, floral and self-contained with herbal notes and gentle tannins; the Rosso del Contadino, meanwhile, was sui generis, an earthy field blend: notes here of grilled mushroom, strawberry jam, soil (ash) and very fresh finish. Chilling them demonstrated the latent fruitiness of the wines, carafeing revealed the funkier aromatics, having them with food brought out their structure and acidity and delicious digestibility. These wines move in the glass; time and temperature transforms them.
Not that everyone appreciated this unpredictability. One taster, on sampling Sébastien Riffault’s biodynamic-wild yeast-low yield- late harvest-old-barrel-fermented-no-added-sulphur-Sancerre, wrinkled his nose and said: “This doesn’t taste of Sauvignon. Why would you plant Sauvignon and not make a wine that was identifiably and emphatically Sauvignon.” An interesting point: should we be slaves to preconceived notions of what a grape should taste like? Are we in thrall to what the hypothetical poor frightened consumer might think?
Sauvignon is often machine-harvested at less than full maturity, and in the Loire, the grape must tends to receive big injections of sulphur which subsequently inhibits the malolactic. Cultured yeasts and low fermentation temperatures further create a Sauvignon “type”, often green and usually confected. Riffault’s wine dares to be different, but dares to be true. The Sauvignon is ripe, honeyed, laden with orchard fruit flavours. But this is not just Sauvignon this is Sancerre and not just Sancerre but a Sancerre from a particular terroir (cailloutes) and one unmediated by all the technical razzamatazz in the winery. It may be the opposite approach to Didier Dagueneau or Henri Bourgeois in the making of a terroir wine but Sebastien makes his own choices and his own wines.
Philosophically speaking, the quest for perfection or balance is perhaps at variance with natural wine which does not profile wine by its aromatic appeal. The wines of Henri Bourgeois wines accurately deliver the nuances of the Sauvignon grape within the milieu of each terroir. Sebastien Riffault’s Akmenine” is also terroir-specific “but the Sauvignon is liberated from its interpretive role in proceedings by the non-interventionist wine-making. This makes for wild, frisky, risqué, unaccommodated wines, perhaps liberated, as Nicolas Joly would have it, from the onus of being “correct” or “good.”
It is a fine line. The delivery of faultless juice is the paradigm of one winery; the happily uncertain and natural congress of grapes and their environment is the objective of the other. The Bourgeois wines might be characterized as cool, delineated, focused and fine, whilst the wines from Riffault are individual, rustic, sulky, on the edge.
Fragility of Natural Wines
I asked Brian Bicknell, formerly of Seresin, and now of Mahi wines, in Marlborough, for his take on natural winemaking:
“My general thought on natural winemaking is that I support the concept of making wine so that it is as natural an expression of the vineyard as possible. The winegrowing and winemaking regulations of the concept work in every sense except for the use of sulphur dioxide (SO2) and I think this was shown up in a number of the wines we tasted on Monday. I believe that at this stage there is no substitute for SO2 use as the other options of pasteurisation or tight filtration take the essence away from the wine, more than SO2 does.
Some wines I have tasted in the past showed such developed and extraneous characters that I believe the essential concept had not been achieved, as the vineyard was now not being expressed, just oxidised apple notes and often bacterial and yeast characters. I think you can make wines without SO2 if you are going to consume them within days but then again we move away from one of the joys of wine, being to consume and enjoy the wine when it has evolved and matured.”
Many natural wines are not meant to be aged, particularly some of the reds (one thinks, for example, of wines from Jean-Francois Nicq or Eric Pfifferling). These wines are fresh, turbid yet brilliant and alive; they have no tannic extraction, whatsoever; they are meant to be enjoyed within a year or two of bottling. Some of the whites, counter-intuitively, seem to be able to age remarkably – particularly those from the Jura, where controlled oxidation is built into the equation.
Yeast characters and reductive notes are quite strong on a number of wines. Having said that, aeration helps a lot and brings out the latent fruit and mineral quality. The most extreme natural wine I have ever drunk works best after a five day sojourn in a carafe (it is extraordinary) – and it is a white wine! I have heard stories that the wines from Gravner and Occhipinti can last for up to thirty days in a decanter. It is as if these wines have evolved their own antiseptic defences to bacterial spoilage, just as vineyards can, over time, build up natural defence systems to certain diseases.
The smells that so deter and distract suggest that bacteria and yeast are inevitably the fall guys. Is yeastiness a fault or an attribute? Are there different yeasty characters? One cannot be too dismissive of so-called wine faults; without VA there wouldn’t be classic Grange, without oxidation the great wines of Jura or even sherry, and reduction is a highly respected tool in the winemaker’s equipment.
The Wines (in no particular order)
2007 Rosso del Contadino, Franck Cornelissen, Etna
Frank Cornelissen’s wines can only be sold to people who have a profound understanding of natural wine. They are intensely volatile, living affairs – nothing is taken out (and then some!)
Frank Cornelissen has always had a passion for wine since he tasted DRC! One day, whilst travelling in Sicily, he tasted a red wine from the Etna, loved it, and decided to buy an old ungrafted vineyard in 2001, which led to the creation of Magma. Cornelissen’s estate consists of 5.5 hectares on the north slopes of Mount Etna. Of this, 2.5 hectares are ungrafted vines grown in the classic free-standing alberello system. The rest is given over to olive trees, fruit trees and bush. He eschews monocultural practices in order to avoid the classic vine diseases and promotes biodiversity. His latest vineyard was newly replanted with original branches of the pre-phylloxera vines.
*Aiming for zero treatments, looking for healthy grapes, but not super-ripeness
*Zero sulphur throughout vinification
*Long natural undisturbed fermentation, the skins are kept on the wine until April of the following year
*Amphorae allow the wine to breathe a little, but don’t give the tannins of wood, nor do they alter the wines colour. Frank likes this because he doesn’t want to add anything to the vine. The evaporation rate from a 400 litre amphora is about the same as from a 2000 or 3000 litre vat; a 250 litre amphora resembles a 1500 litre vat and a 100 litre amphora is close to a barrique.
Rosso del Contadino, a very drinkable red, is made entirely without SO2, partly with stems and partly destemmed, crushed partly with the feet, a field blend of white and red varieties (Carricante, white table grapes, Inzolia, Catarratto, Nerello Mascalese, Alicante, Nerello Cappuccio,...) The fermentation is done in containers of 700–1000 litres, in contact with the integral mass for as long as the alcoholic fermentation (approx. 40 days). Then the wine is pressed before being transferred into terracotta amphorae for approx. 10 months. The Rosso del Contadino is bottled after the “noble lees” are stirred and thus is completely cloudy. The lees are the nutrition of the wine and since this is not a high precision, terroir wine, it needs a bit more of a help to evolve in the bottle. The wine is unfiltered, unfined and bottled without SO2. As a result it is quite volatile, but also fresh, carrying the alcohol surprisingly well.
The Rosso had a limpid clean cherry red colour. The nose is refreshing with hints of currants, soda, ash and lemon. Some spritz in the mouth. A light and refreshing style, being young and fruity, yet there is some fine depth here with hints of wet stones and ash. Fine acidic structure and not much tannins in the back, but yet a firm finish. Great food wine. A joy to drink.
This wine divided the audience between those who wouldn’t go past the nose versus those who were charmed by its fruitiness.
2007 Sancerre Akmenine, Sebastien Riffault
Akmenine is a 35-year-old Sauvignon vineyard on limestone soil, with many “caillottes”, which is the local name for limestone plates. Akméniné, which means “made of stones” in Lithuanian, is on a gentle slope and has a 1.3-hectare surface. While the silex gives wines with minerality, but also needing more time to for the wine to reach its full expression, the limestone confers a flattering richness, substance and fruit.
The Sauvignon grapes were hand-picked in crates and pressed pneumatically. The wine stays six to nine months in old casks. No SO2 added except 10mg at bottling. This wine’s particularity compared with “normal” Sancerre wines is that it went through its malolactic fermentation. Riffault says that it is erroneously considered that Sancerre Sauvignons are better without the malolactic fermentation, but the fact is that this “tradition” was a direct result of the massive additions of SO2 to prevent this malolactic fermentation taking place. The common credo is that the Sauvignon loses aromas when it goes through this second fermentation. Here, you can feel ripe aromas, and it has to do with the fact that he harvests at full maturity. Yields are about 30 hectolitres/hectare, less than half the allowable for the appellation.
“I thought Sancerre was mostly boring, but this is brilliant. It’s a challenging, complex, life-enhancing expression of Sauvignon Blanc. Full yellow in colour, it has a complex, rather wild nose of nuts, minerals, herbs, diesel oil, lemons and apples, with hints of sweet dried fruits. The palate is savoury and full, with lovely minerally acidity and nutty, grassy fruit. It’s just so complex, but if you’re looking for typical Sancerre, then this isn’t for you. I really like it, and rate it as the best Sancerre I’ve ever tasted”. (Jamie Goode - Wine Anorak).
Great tasting note, which of course, I totally agree with.
Riffault’s Sancerre really set the cat’s pee amongst the pigeons as it so obviously didn’t conform to expectations. There were plenty of negative comments and a debate that generated more heat than light about the way Sauvignon should taste.
2007 Le P’tit Curieux, Patrick Rols, Vin de Pays d’Aveyron
Patrick Rols recently appeared at the natural wine festival (La Dive Bouteille) in Deauville. We are not sure that he was supposed to feature but his neighbour-in-Aveyron-wine, Nicolas Camarans, who was scheduled to display his wares, was forced to pull out, and Patrick, supposedly, stepped in as a late substitute. Eric tasted, liked the wine, and asked him what he was doing with it. Monsieur Rols shrugged. It was in a barrel. Would you bottle it for us? Another shrug – why not. Without sulphur? Most certainly.
So unlike the marketing pragmatism that characterises many commercial estates we can appreciate a hearty slab of Gallic insouciance. The “maybes” hang in the air like seagulls on thermal breezes: maybe if I feel like it, maybe if I like you, maybe if the north wind is blowing…
Obscurity is the realm of error, said the Marquis de Vauvernage in one of his many moral aperçus. Or, more simply, in the words of Manuel: “I know… nothing”. We can’t guess the intention of a grower who surrenders so little information and we have little idea how the wine is supposed to taste nor how it might develop. Whence did it come, whither is it going? Well, the wine in question is most assuredly Chenin and comes from the old province of Rouergue, now the department of Aveyron, not far from Marcillac.
A little curiosity indeed. In a nutshell the wine is made from young Chenin vines grown on schistous soils, wild yeast ferment, no filtering, no malolactic, aged on its lees, with regular lees-stirring followed by ten months in twice used oak vats. Malolactic evidently occurs in bottle, although this was a surprise to us.
The first time I wrote about this Chenin it was an interesting two tone affair, some honey-coated quince sweetness balanced by jagged acidity. Since that time this uncouth wine has evidently begun a second fermentation in the bottle and now there’s renewed zip, verve, myriad tiny bubbles and offensive quantities of fun. Orthodox wine lovers would roll their eyes (and I once saw a sommelier squirming in his straitjacket after trying this), but I love a wine that tickles my ribs whilst staying several steps ahead of my palate.
Sizzling sparkling white unsheathing sharp darts of spiky lemon, grapefruit and white peach. In the mouth, it blossoms to layers of white peach, quince and ripe greengage, brine and chalk minerality, finishing persistently with musky florality, anise, angelica, and subtle bitterness of herbs, alkaline minerality, and fruit skin.
A general thumbs up for this wine. The refreshing acid structure makes its highly quaffable.
2008 Chasselas sans soufre, Pierre Frick
Second Yorkshireman: Nothing like a good glass of Château de Chasselas, eh, Josiah?
Third Yorkshireman: You’re right there, Obadiah.
Monty Python: Four Yorkshiremen
At the forefront of the biodynamic movement Jean-Pierre Frick makes wines that are scrupulously natural. From promoting biodiversity in the vineyard to hand harvesting all the grapes to using little and even no sulphur during the winemaking to ageing in large old oak casks, Jean-Pierre aspires to capture the essence of the grape and also the flavour of the terroir. His Chasselas (the grape originates in Switzerland), vinified without the addition of sulphur, is left on the lees before being bottled under a crown cap. Chasselas, otherwise known as Fendant in the Valais canton in Switzerland and Gutedel in Baden in Germany, is not a terribly exciting grape variety, but this version is quite vinous, reminiscent of greengage, mirabelle plums and dried banana. Frick’s wines have been described as “somewhere between beer and barn”, but this wine is simple, refreshing and very moreish.
2004 Vin de Table Originel Blanc, Julien Courtois
Situated in the heart of Sologne, 35 km from Blois, Claude Courtois and his son Julien elaborate their wines according to ancestral methods and are zealous advocates of natural wine. “Nature admits no lie”, as Carlyle said, and Courtois (Claude) often says that his wine is made from “true grapes”, pointing out that the French vineyards are generally doped with chemicals in order to guarantee bigger yields. There is a price to pay for whereas a vigneron using chemicals can tend ten hectares by himself, in bio it takes three people. The first time Eric met Claude Courtois the latter was digging a hole in the ground on his estate. “What’s the hole for?” Eric asked. “To bury my enemies”, replied Claude darkly. You spray at your peril in his proximity.
Originel is a reference to the taste and methods of production of traditional white wines in this region of the Loire and Cher. The producers of Menu Pineau, a typical white variety of this region, can be counted on the fingers of one hand and number Claude Courtois, Julien’s father, and the Puzelats. The variety is also locally known as Arbois and Verdet as the grapes on certain vine remain green even at full maturity. Judged as poor in quality and less modish than Sauvignon it is not planted any more, surviving purely thanks to certain local sweet wines where it forms a minor part of the blend. Here it responds well to the extremely low yields (20 hl/ha), a third of the average for this admittedly rare variety. The specific terroir – silica and flint over clay and flint – linked to the upbringing of the wine (twelve months in barriques) confers a great deal of complexity to the final wine. A silky ensemble, both racy and powerful with ripe fruits on top of secondary aromatics of menthol, gentiane and butter and churned cheese. Carafe this wine two hours before drinking. When you drink it the following thoughts will trickle into your mind. Is it oxidised and is the wine meant to taste like this? Stop analysing, start enjoying.
I describe this as “like Chenin on acid” (man) because I pick up many of that grape’s signature aromas: wax, hay, marzipan and ripe cheese. The palate has a surprise bite of nervous acidity which brings all the aromas and flavours into clear focus. Someone at the France Under One Roof tasting once observed that it reminded them an apple tarte tartin (an upside down one, surely?).
There were some smiles here, a couple of surprised enjoyment, the majority of disbelief. I thought it was superb, naked and unabashed, tingling with life.
2007 Lambrusco Rosso, Camillo Donati
Donati’s natural (and therefore, atypical) wine is made Lambrusco Maestri (with skin contact), without temperature control, uses no other controls or enhancers at fermentation, has no fining, no acidification or de-acidification, no selected yeasts. It is fermented dry.
The bubbles for these frizzante wines come from the traditional method of refermentation in bottle, a method that does not require preservatives and which makes this wine, unlike those produced in charmat method, age better. The wines are not filtered and are topped with a crown cap (a traditional closure for some decades in this region). There may be resulting sediment.
A frizzante wine of 11.5% alcohol, this is a traditional, unfiltered Lambrusco that is quite dry and only gently sparkling. It is a deep, brilliant crimson colour and has strawberry pulp and red meat aromas, with a little hint of briar. Robust, serious, earthy palate with lots of bitter cherry and quite intense plum-skin grip. Mouthfilling and well-textured, there is plenty of racy-raspberry acidity and lovely balance.
Serious Lambrusco requires an intellectual leap of faith, if that makes sense. If you are buying for a supermarket or trying to explain to first year wine students what Lambrusco is, you would probably be looking for a slightly sweet cherry-pop example. This is a hale,hearty, sanguine version that boldly says: Feed me, Seymour!
2007 Vin de Table Grolleau vieilles vignes, Le Cousin, Domaine Cousin Leduc
Who’s the daddy long legs? Cousin, Olivier Cousin, to be precise. This is old school, some would say prelapsarian way of winemaking; that which incorporates no machines, pesticides, enzymes or selected yeasts, but rather it is as low-tech as possible. Olivier claims to be the first to have vinified this local grape varietal, Grolleau, into a full red wine in a place where its customary insipid qualities have regulated it to that of strictly rosé production. With vines that average over 60 years in age, he is able to obtain rich concentration from the berries. The vinification takes place with a partial carbonic maceration without the addition of enzymes, sulphites (at any point of winemaking), or selected yeasts; a truly natural wine.
Grolleau a.k.a. Gros Lot. The name derives from the word for a raven (Grolle), no doubt a reference to the black skin of the grape. Delicious chilled this combines flavours of violets and sweet red fruits with soft tannins and fresh acidity. The word funky was probably invented to describe this unmediated red which is unfiltered, unfined and has no sulphur added during the winemaking. Secondary aromatics of freshly turned earth, baked bread and smoked cherrywood add to the sensory adventure. This is one corbie that will definitely fly.
When you taste it the metaphorical impression you receive is that the wine has escaped its surly bonds and is drunkenly staggering around the place happy to pick a fight with every wine you’ve tasted and every expectation that you hold. It is soft, sweet and smoky with that smell of just-finished fermentation. It seems raw, unfinished, lacking in structure and yet at the same time is very moreish. Its strength is that it tastes so real, it literally wears its guts for garters.
This, the first wine of the tasting, flabbered a few gasts. I’m not even sure it reached the level of knowing guffaw. As Tim observed it was showing very prettily, proving that the savage beast could be quite soothing. Cousin’s Grolleau has had terrific critical acclaim in the past from a number of top wine writers who admire its twinkling naughtiness and has acquired a bit of a cult status at Terroirs where it was listed by the glass for six months. It reminds me if that you take wine too seriously you lose the whole dimension of enjoyment.
Vino Bianco Jakot, Dario Princic
The exposed, windswept vineyards, free of chemicals since 1988, are located on the poor limestone soils in Gorizia (Friuli) near the border with Slovenia. The drying winds make this ideal territory for biodynamic viticulture, although Princic extends his natural, non-interventionist regime into the winery.
Princic believes in delivering what nature delivers him – here the beautifully ripe, healthy grapes from low yields in biodynamically tended vineyards come into the winery (traditional fermentation vessels here) and undergo fermentation with natural yeasts. Punch downs and twenty day skin maceration account for the delicate amber colour. Two years ageing on the lees in vat completes the process. The nose is understated – apricot kernels, butternut and warm spice (ginger). The wine is smooth and marrow-like in the mouth edged with wild herbs, beautifully fugitive. Jakot? Tocai – forgivable persiflage. With the Hungarians causing a Furmint about the trademarking of Tokaji this delicious natural wine is a cheeky reminder to those Magyar putzes that you can take away the name but you can’t take away the identity.
More conventional flavours here – fruit and flesh sans funkiness – got the Jakot a general thumb-up from the assembled tasters. Interestingly, although a lot of the natural wines are made in a similar way (wild yeast ferment, long macerations, lees-ageing) either the results are different or the expectations of the tasters are different. Princic is one of the many Friuli growers who make amber wines; Gravner being the best known. The wines are not necessarily easy, but stylistically, their integrity is easier to comprehend. Seb Riffault makes Sancerre - but not as we know it, Jim. Conditioning plays a huge part in the way that we rationalise our responses to particular wines (and perhaps we don’t even know that we are doing it).
St Joseph Rouge, Domaine Romaneaux-Destezet
Hervé Souhaut created Domaine Romaneaux-Destezet in 1993… His holdings on the acidic granite soils of the northern Rhone and the top tip of the Ardèche are a mixture of new and ancient vines—from 50 to100 years old. Souhaut’s holdings are minuscule, only five hectares and he employs only organic and biodynamic winemaking techniques. At the end of September, the grapes are harvested and then undergo a very long maceration at a low temperature without destemming. The wine is then matured on the lees in second-hand oak casks for six months and then bottled without being filtered. The dark cherry and currant flavours are pronounced with the merest hint of parma violet and a whiff of tar and a seasoning of white pepper completing the savoury palette.
His Saint-Joseph ratchets up the aromatic intensity and complexity without sacrificing the identity of the terroir. It bursts smilingly on the tongue; it is deliciously nuanced and harmonious in its fruit, acid and tannin balance. Violets, freshly roasted coffee beans, black cherry, wet stone and vanilla bean all interplay nicely as they gradually unfurl off the rim of the glass. The palate employs many of the same flavours the wine contains on the nose; deep black cherry and juicy plum flavours mesh with candied violets and cool strawberry tones dominate. The moderate tannins that gradually crop up on the finish highlight the readily accessible fruity components this stellar Syrah possesses. This wine has the spirit of youth with the gentle certainty of old vine wisdom.
Nothing here to frighten the horses or the tasters!
Conclusion
“The healthy being craves an occasional wildness, a jolt from normality, a sharpening of the edge of appetite, his own little festival of Saturnalia...”
The jury will always be out. People liked some wines and heartily disliked others. For some it was a matter of taste (fair enough); for others it was a matter of inherent faultiness.
I would never condemn or castigate wines for being wild or funky. If growers make the wines and people enjoy drinking them, who are we to impose our conventional values and criticise? Molecular analysis of wines, the notion of marketability, the responsibility to consumers, are wildly irrelevant - there is no sacred or profane.
Experiencing natural wine pushes us to the boundaries of our taste. To paraphrase Stephen Fry paraphrasing Niels Bohr on quantum mechanics: “If you are not shocked, you haven’t understood it”. To understand it is to accept it and drink it for pleasure. After that nothing else will be quite the same.