Notching up the naturals - Highlights of Real Wine 2010
Perhaps the aggravating thing about being part of a revolutionary movement is that strive as you might to be outside the tent pissing in, your ideas end up as a alternative orthodoxy and you become open to insidious analysis, snippy comments and vulnerable to a conservative critical backlash. Although natural wine was never meant to be defined or rigorously codified it has evolved philosophically into a quasi-revolutionary counterblast against globalism and standardisation. More specifically, it is almost purely associated with wines that undergo the fewest possible interventions and which most accurately reflect the spirit of the place they come from. This has led to confusion about nomenclature. What’s in a name? We may call the wines “natural” at our tasting, but ultimately it is a flag of convenience. Actually, we have brought together a wide range of growers under the single banner of “Real Wine” from the artisans who practise organic viticulture to biodynamic fanatics to those who seek to push the envelope to rediscover a sense of what is natural and those whose uncompromising tactics in the winery include fermentations with wild yeasts, no filtration nor fining and the low or zero use of sulphur dioxide throughout the winemaking process.
It is their diversity rather than their uniformity that we are celebrating. The main criticisms of natural wines is that their naturalness somehow makes them unnatural, that, by definition, they must be funky (funky = not fundamentally serious and arguably faulty) and that they all taste the same, thereby obfuscating any terroir subtleties. The most conservative critics, those tasters who value correctness over individuality, derogating anything they deem unworthy of comprehension, would simply say: “They’re all orf!”
My definition of natural wines is naturally fast and loose. No-one is arguing that non-interventionism is some kind of absolute, laissez-faire approach whereby untended vines magically drop grapes into vats and the wine ferments of its own accord and is decanted seamlessly into bottles. Do not pass go, do not sully with human intervention. The human factor is very evident, but it should be considered more as a partnership rather than an imposing relationship. It is essential that the vigneron respects nature and the land and seeks to interpret the terroir rather than to create a paradigm of a wine. Some vineyards may be carved out of the rock itself, there will be blood, sweat and tears in that there soil and the vine will be actively nurtured until it reaches a healthy equilibrium. Natural, in viticultural terms, can either involve a thoroughly proactive approach or a certain benign neglect; it simply depends on the conditions. The vineyard will always be viewed as part of an eco-system and the vine should never monopolise resources; it should exist in balance with nature.
So the first tenet of natural wine is that viticulture should be organic and the vineyard must be alive, its soil teeming with microbial activity. No pesticides, herbicides or chemical agents may be used. To be really natural a vigneron should go well beyond the relatively narrow dictates of what is proscribed by the various organic bodies. Natural farming is about investing in natural solutions to problems (such as integrated pest control) and the kind of homeopathic remedies espoused by those who practise biodynamics. Natural viticulture involves understanding the vineyard on both an intimate and holistic level and the way it operates microcosmically from the type and fertility of the soil, to the quality of light, to the microclimate in each row of vines, to every plant, flower and weed, to every bird and bee that dwells in the vicinity. A natural wine is thus the sum of every living element of its vineyard.
The guiding principle behind this purist approach is to acquire healthy grapes that are the ideal building blocks for terroir wines because they will require fewer, if any, adjustments in the winery. However, the relatively strict rules that govern viticulture are not in evidence in the winery where the winemaker can legitimately make use of a battery of techniques to manipulate the wine and its flavours. We support those growers who, rather than seeking to refine the wine, are content to leave it naked. But let us first examine their options.
We believe that the best wines are the result of careful choices and the fewest manipulations. Low yields and harvests targeting physiological ripe grapes are important; quality is always more important than quantity. The winemaker is like a cook who would wish to highlight the quality of the central ingredient.
Vinification may be whole bunch under a blanket of carbon dioxide at low temperature or be traditional at ambient temperature. Length of macerations can vary greatly depending on the style of wine required. All natural wines are made with wild yeasts. Fermentation may take place in stainless steel or in old barrels or big foudres or cement vats or even amphorae. Use is made of the lees in both reds and white. Pumping or racking tends to be avoided; batonnage is being rejected in favour of the dynamic motion of the lees. Filtration and fining is rare. The use of wood is an interesting and controversial issue. Most natural winemakers think that the flavour of oak is to be avoided; wood can support the wine and fill it out but it is not there to add a layer on top.
People ask about the occasional by-products of natural wine-making: cloudiness, VA, reduction and secondary fermentation. The received wisdom is that these are faults, whereas they are, in fact, the by-product of a certain style of winemaking. Some of the by-products are intentional, others are accidental. Those who determine what is correct or otherwise are capable of arbitrary distinctions themselves. Famously, some of the most acclaimed wines ever made (Cheval Blanc 47 or Chateau Ausone from the same vintage) shared many of the so-called faults described above. There were great wines before the introduction of technology, wines which by modern standards would be considered unfit for purpose.
Meanwhile numerous misconceptions abound about low sulphur wines. One is that they don’t age because sulphur acts as a preservative. Whilst it is true that some wines are meant to be drunk in the exuberant freshness of youth others have the wherewithal to last and last. Some wines create their defence mechanism as a shield against oxidation: one thinks of Dinavolo, Princic, the wines of Cornelissen, Valentini and Houillon. The wines mutate but oxygen gradually animates them rather than sets into motion the cycle of decay.
I can adduce numerous examples of wines that most experienced tasters would write off as undrinkable, which, after a day – or three days – or five –find their natural balance. The proof of this particular pudding is in the tasting; the wines are living things that evolve in their own time.
Real Wine 2010
Our tasting was held on two successive flower days. Two extremely bright sunny days with high pressure but, unusually, a northerly air flow bringing cool air and volcanic ash.
Was it my impression or were the wines from volcanic terroirs showing particularly well. As one customer quipped: “Well, you can’t claim that these are no sulphur wines today.”
Jamie Goode describes the difficulty (and perhaps the pointlessness) of trying to define precisely the “nature of natural wines”.
“There’s life in the natural wine movement. Attempts to codify, define and legislate could choke the life out of it. We need to live with the tension and uncertainty that not having definitions brings. You just know a natural wine when you see one, and usually the sorts of people making them are aligned together.”
Natural wine is about capturing the truth of terroir and establishing the difference between an artful wine and artless wine. The wines which are mostly highly rated and fetch the most money are those which have the most money spent on them (in terms of technology, equipment in the vineyard and winery and marketing). It is simultaneously about codifying a style and creating a scale of response and begs the question whether a photo touched up using technology to give cleaner resolution a truer representation than an impressionistic painting.
The truth is always pure and never simple.
Moreover, the conventional winemaker, the critic, the supermarket buyer will always taste according a range of predetermined notions. For them wine must, by definition, fall within the perameters of good taste. This is like saying that people should all dress in grey or never wear a hat indoors. It is a partial, highly exclusive view of wine. The aim of natural wine is to rediscover how wine can most faithfully reflect the terroir and the vintage. Each wine will have a singular purpose, that of having a strong identity.
Foillard mags drunk with dinner – M-orgon donation
08 is as eloquent and pleasurable as the 07 was strangely diffident and lacking in charm. Strikingly beautiful limpid colour, aromas of irises and red berries, silky red fruits (sweet cherries) with energetic acidity and a final delicate whiff of smokiness that elevates the wine above mere juicy Gamay status and gives, dare I abuse that expression, Burgundian complexity. Oh well, I’ve said it now. This regal cru Beaujolais made a morganatic marriage with the earthy homemade charcuterie.
Vin de Petanque – Crowned Boules
Whether you are out in the sandpit or playing micro-boules on the carpet a glass of vin de petanque should always be in your hand. It certainly bowls me over with its bonhomie and lack of pretension, but is in no way flimsy. Make a noise like a picnic and drink with positive prejudice. It is yet another fresh-faced Ardeche. The vines are grown on clay-limestone with lauzes (flat stones) and some rolled pebbles. Grapes undergo strict manual selection, are destemmed, lightly crushed and given a five day maceration. Dark ruby colour, aromas of blackberry, myrtle and gentle spices. The palate is warm and digestible with black cherry soda flavours and dark olive notes that recall its Rhone origins.
Riesling Grand Cru Schlossberg – Eat, Drink, Mann, Woman
These magnum bottles are not quite as lofty as the towering Barthelme bros but they cut an impressive jib at the dinner table. The wine inside is as elegant as the bottles are tall with the customary Albert Mann trademark grapefruit and lime zest flavours veering into balsamic notes; it’s masculine but with a diamantine freshness that took on some deeply smoky sardines and kept delivering. Easy to get schlossed on this Riesling.
Gamay Pierres Noires, Domaine Maupertuis – On the Volcano
Here’s a wine that doesn’t honestly care what you think of it. Whether grown in volcanic hills called puys, in Limagne, or on the hills (domes) on the eastern edge of the Massif Central, Auvergne wines are made with the Gamay variety, which has been cultivated in the region for centuries.
Domaine Maupertuis is located in the commune of Pérignat-lès-Sarlièves fairly close to Clermont-Ferrand (twinned with Salford and Aberdeen amongst other places). The vines, some of them 100 years old, are planted on a mixture of terroirs, but the Pierres Noires (from vineyards adjacent to La Roche Noire) are on volcanic basalt. Slightly cloudy with an aroma of barnyard when it is first opened. This dissipates quickly, but leaves behind a topsoil smell that remains to accompany the raspberry notes. Sour cherry and pomegranate seed flavours are accompanied with earthiness too. This is a Gamay as nature intended, organic, unfiltered and unsulphured, as prickly as a hedgehog with ants in his pants, a dark pickled damson strut across the tongue, and you should drink it with alacrity from a pot lyonnais with some tripoux or ”Truffade” a baked mixture of sliced potatoes and Tome de Cantal.
I wonder who laid down the primer for correct and incorrect wine. It is the coldly reductive logic of the Consumer Acceptance Panel which ignores the fact that individuality and unpredictability are what makes wine a living drink. Our list would be a pale shadow if it were missing wines from Cousin-Leduc, Gramenon, Bera, Princic, La Stoppa, Bea and Valentini. To some these may be the taste equivalent of Joan Crawford’s fingernails scratching the underside of an iron coffin, but to others a welcome diversion from the smart, clean-chopped-identikit- oenologically-smoothed clones that bestride the supermarket shelves.
We love these wines for their faults; in fact their faults make them what they are. Made with wild yeasts, handled gently without filtration or addition of sulphur, the wines are alive, constantly in flux, rarely the same one day to the next.
Petillant Pink Boules is/was the result of a triple fermentation (or refer, as we call it) and when I broached it at the tasting a soda fountain-like plume hit the ceiling, evidence of a quadruple fermentation. Actually, it was more like a volcanic eruption – that’s terroir for you.
Macon Aragonite – Paragon of Aragon
There was some serious Macon action on my table and the most professorial of said Macon was the Aragonite. Aragonite is a kind of calcium carbonite and, in the view of wine aficionados everywhere this wine rocked.
Once upon a time, dear reader, Les Vignes du Mayne (planted originally in the 10th century) belonged to the monks of the Cluny abbey and subsequently became the property of the powerful Comtes de Montrevel (1557).
Fast forward a few centuries and Pierre Guillot takes over the domaine and starts practising organic farming and vinification with conviction and dynamism ever since, respecting both the consumer and nature. Today, the Domaine des Vignes du Maynes comprises about 6.5 hectares. Facing due east, the vines benefit from the rising sun. They grow on a terroir of a clay and limestone mixture. Avoidance of weedkiller and modest yields characterize these authentic wines produced from Pinot Noir, Gamay and Chardonnay. From the time the grapes are picked by hand to the time the wines are bottled neither additives nor SO2 are used.
The pressing operation is slow, carried out on wooden wine presses dating from 1895. Fermentation takes the form of carbonic maceration over a period of ten days (Jules-Chauvet method).
All wines, regardless of creed or colour, are left on the lees in oak barrels for eleven months producing wines full of character.
Aragonite is white Macon which undergoes two strict selections. Fermentation is in barrels with wild yeast. The wine is left on the lees and aged eleven months, without chapitalization or the addition of artificial yeast. Its striking appearance may be described as a lovely pale gold. Initially, the nose releases voluptuous aromas of exotic fruit and white flowers (acacia). Once it has opened up, the bouquet evolves and notes of citrus fruit and pineapple may be distinguished along with pollen, truffle and grilled almond.
Macon-Cruzille Rouge Manganite – Upper Crust
Gamay proves that when the vines are old and the soil is poor can make bloody good wines as Bill Baker used to say. Redolent of mango and musk, as well as cooked cherries and delightfully juggles notes of sandalwood and an aromatic array of red berries (wild cherries) this Macon is for grown-ups. It is sappy and stony and the acidity is nicely coiled like a cobra about to strike. Oz Clarke asked for 5-7 years before coming back to it. Let sleeping beauties lie.
Montevertine & Pergole le Torte – Superb Tuscans
Once upon a time Montevertine seceded from Chianti Classico because of the arcane regulations that stipulated that you had to blend white grapes with Sangiovese. As purer than thou, and holier than holy they could cock a snook at producers hamstrung by daft regulation and make Sangiovese veri. Now, everyone and their cat is a Supertuscan and the wines are being adulterated or augmented, depending on your taste, by lashings of Cabernet, Syrah or Merlot. I prefer Sangiovese au natural with its ruby red and sanguine country flavours. Montevertine is the feminine side of this grape, supple and savoury, with eloquent red fruits. Pergole is darker fruit with a shaft of graphite minerality, graceful acidity and elegant tannins. Should this tarry in the Seven Sleeper’s Den? Undoubtedly, but that’s for me to know and for you to lay down.
Trebbiano d’Abruzzo, Valentini – Mad, not bad, and yes, quite dangerous to know
It is interesting to see what other winemakers make a beeline for when the corks are popped at a wine tasting. Philippe Pacalet came to my stand and drank thirstily of the Valentini like a camel packing his hump for a long trip across the Sahara desert. And why not? This wine can sulk with the worst of them, but on its day it can be regal. And this was its day. The point about Valentini’s Trebbiano is that it is not Trebbiano d’Abruzzo – or rather it is. That anodyne mouthwash masquerading as Trebbi d’Abruzzo is the Toscano clone, overcropped and over everywhere. Valentini rediscovered the original Abruzzan clone in a small vineyard, and, by working biodynamically, with small yields, wild yeasts and long skin contact and ageing in botti, crafted something remarkable, even thrilling. Made reductively the wine ideally wants to age fifteen years but triple carafeing and allowing the wine to reach cool room temperature allows the wine to unveil its living brilliance. It reminds me of a piece of volcanic rock with many faces and edges; it is hard yet has warmth and seems to constantly change. Just when you line up your artillery of adjectives you find they are redundant as new aromas emerge. Certain wine writers perceive Valentini’s wine as flawed because it is a defiantly moving target and they prefer dealing with certainty and consistency.
Crozes Blanc “Karriere”, Dard et Ribo – Incense-itive
The rhyme of this ancient Marsanner fills the mouth with creamed apricots, sun warmed soil, humus, walnut oil and lanolin. It comes in waves, you think it has dropped off the end of your palate into the oblivion of your gullet then the flavours ping back, echoing incense.
Roc des Anges Iglesia Vella – Old church
Many of the sentiments might be repeated for this southern Pyrenean Grenache Gris. Old church, carved out the shattered schists, a seam of brilliant quartz that dynamises the wine with its mineral glee. I could pour over a glass of this for ages. It puts the text into texture.
Iglesia Vella is Catalan for ‘Old Church’. Because this wine is made both from grapes planted in a parcel of 80-yr old Grenache Gris, and also some from grapes from Grenache Gris vines growing scattered amongst the ancient 80-yr old Carignan vines one parcel of which is just metres away from the old church
The vines are grown on the slopes of the Força Real mountain. The vineyard has a topsoil of very old schists (570 million years), derived from compacted clay. The bedrock is less than one metre deep, and it is also very flaky, allowing excellent root penetration. These conditions gives the vines a chance to have a ‘second wind’, in June as this month brings drought and warm weather.
The average yield is naturally low (17hl/ha) a simple reflection of an old vineyard on poor soils in a dry climate. The soils, superficial and well-drained, encourage deep root penetration into the schist. The soils are so dry, and the climate so warm that white scorpions can be found in some parcels of the vineyard.
Organic viticulture (the domaine is in conversion to biodynamic) with minimal interventions (no malo, no filtration, no fining and only a little sulphur).
The wine is aged in thrice-used 500-litre oak barrels for nine months.
Ig Vel is not a wine that will reveal all at first nose and sip. It is profound yet shy, slowly unveiling gentle herb-edged fruit and warm minerality.
Romaneaux-Destezet – Light of my life
The Souteronne is made from only old Gamay grapes which are from 60 to 80 years old vines. The winemaking involves a long maceration at low temperature, without destemming the grapes and the juice is matured on the fine lees, in second-hand oak casks. It is then bottled without filtration. The SO2 is less than 25mg/l when bottled. The depth of colour of this wine is sensational and the nose billows out of the glass to reveal fresh red and dark fruits. The palate is something else - this is a truly superb Gamay with a lovely mineral edge as if granite had melted seamlessly into a wine. The bearable lightness of alcohol weighs in at a paltry 11.2%. Hallelujah.
Zidarich – Zigger-zagger
This is the slithery, slippery, slatey style of red – easy on the gums and damn good for the digestion.
The Teran (or more onomatopoeic Refosco) is a truly paregoric potation, fabulously digestible as if iron-filings had been distilled into the wine and made into a blood-enriching medicine. At 12% it is as bracingly refreshing as a white wine. You can smell the terroir: sea breeze over bloody red soil and karst limestone, whilst the fruit almost chews itself in your mouth, the acidity encourages a good roll-around and a ripe tartness engages and sooths the tongue simultaneously. Red fruits? You bet your sweet bippy. Fragolino, cherries, sloes, bitter raspberries gush effortlessly across the palate. The tannins are so fine they barely seem to exist. Food is called for and a plate of prosciutto crudo magically appears. Yum.
1997 San Lorenzo – Kaos theory
This is like turning up the volume on your favourite music. 1997 Il San Lorenzo, Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Riserva, Fattoria San Lorenzo. Actually, it is called Marche Bianco.
This vintage Verdicchio is as mad as a Marche Hare. The presence of oldies but goldies confirms that this is Verdicchio that acquires profound wisdom with age, when all the discrete flavour components have melded to create a wine that is beautifully mysterious, not unlike old Chablis, old Vouvray or old Trebbi-valentini. Firstly, pour into a carafe and allow the wine to reach traditional cellar temperature. Nosing this you receive the impact of warm, bready aromas and the distinctive cut of iodine; the palate reinforces this and there are some nice hints of citrus peel and nut lingering around. Fantastic long finish; the acidity sashays around your mouth for some time and thrums your gums in a friendly fashion. If it’s a ten year Verdicchio it’s barely out of nappies.
Jurancon Vent Balaguer, Clos Lapeyre -
Vent Balaguèr means “southern wind” in Occitan. It is the warm wind that comes from Spain, up from behind the Pyrenees.
The Petit Manseng grapes are late harvested and then put in trays to perfect the process of “passerillage”. These trays are laid outside on the sun during the hot and sunny days and brought inside the winery in damp and rainy weather. Besides dehydrating, the grapes change in colour, turning from a golden-yellow to russet and brown. Their flavour also changes and hints of apricot, candied orange peel and medlar fruit appear.
Bright amber colour. Intense, profound nose, returning to haunt one with its multiple nuances: new wood, honeydew, apricot jam, confit of orange and lemon, Corinth raisins, blond tobacco and spiced bread. The mouth is lively, spicy with cooked fruits, also floral with superlative concentration. The tactile sensation is unctuous and rounded, giving the impression of biting into perfectly ripe grapes with poised citric notes. The vanillin flavours are integrated into a rich texture and enrobed by a truly noble acidity. The finish is long and harmonious with mirabelle plum, peach and apricot. This is an extraordinary wine with exquisite equilibrium that will last for decades.
Saint-Nicolas de Bourgueil Hurluberlu – Hullaballooza
Hare-brained person, a coiffure, and a little storm (when the hurly-burly’s done) in a wine glass. Sébastien David makes deliciously crunchy Cabernet Franc from his vineyards situated on the limestone-clay and gravels of the Loire. Eschewing chemicals and working without sulphur in the winery he makes a gratifying aromatic red. The wine looks as if it has just been born, being ribena-hued, exuberantly fresh, brimming with cherry and cranberry goodness and a lively wriggle of liquorice.
Sancerre a la bud – But is it Sancerre?
Seb Riffault is evidently an iconoclast; he certainly seems to rub certain wine writers up the wrong way. Let me count the ways he offendeth thee.
1. Biodynamic viticulture using preparations 500 & 501.
2. Harvest sur maturité
3. Fermentation with wild yeasts
4. Malolactic fermentation
5. Oxidative ageing in large old barrels
6. Unfiltered, unfined, no sulphur added
Oh, throw up your hands in horror and now tell me that this isn’t Sancerre. Tell me that you can’t distinguish the terroir. Tell me that the Akmenine and the Skeveldra taste identical. They don’t? Why is that? Perhaps, because they are from markedly different terroirs?
Yes, you want your Sancerre to taste like goosey grassberries. You want that whiff of gunflint or powdered chalk. You want that tangy acidity.
Sorry, mate. Riffault’s wines are a radically different but still legitimate expression of Sancerre and deserve to be appreciated as such.
VigneVecchia – The Roar of the Cannonau
For those about to rock, we salute you. A 150 year old Cannonau salute, no less. Sardinian wines, particularly the Cannonau, exemplify the maxim of never mind the quality feel the width and alcoholic strength. They don’t respect nuance Big ain’t bad, only clumsiness is, and the weight of the wine gives an excuse to smother the flavours in masses of oak. What you end up with is a dam of strawberry jam.
Vignevecchie means old vineyards. And old means old: 150 years in this case. Did I mention that? The blend is Cannonau 50% and other indigenous delights such as Muristellu, Nieddu Mannu, Cagnulari, Tintillu etc.
Treacle-black VV smells of tar, woodsmoke, balsam, black bread and roast meat as well as the Sardinian macchia notes of laurel, myrtle and bay. It has depth, viscosity and the kind of pure intensity that takes you straight to the vineyard and rubs your nose in the soil.