I am an addicted winemaker and wine drinker, as such, I read as much on the topics as possible. Much of my reading is academic, but I also enjoy just reading what others think about wine and wine topics. When I read the following article about "Natural" wines, I was intrigued by both sides of the equation and thought process. At any rate, we talk here a lot about SO2 management and practices, so I thought I'd share this piece by Matt Kramer of Wine Spectator.
Of particular note for me, the comments by winery owner Kevin Harvey, about 2/3 of the way down the page. I'm somewhere in his wheelhouse, do enough to my wine to make it as good as I can, but as little as possible.
Impeccable Radical Credentials
Matt Kramer
Issue: September 30, 2016
I was once on a long car trip with my wife and two visiting friends, one Australian, the other British. The conversation turned to politics. I forget now who we were talking about, but our British friend staked out a defense of the politician's policies that the rest of us considered preposterous.
She defended her side against our gleeful onslaughts and ended by declaring, "Well, he has impeccable radical credentials." With that we all convulsed in laughter, herself included.
I thought of this memorable phrase recently while drinking yet another so-called natural wine that I found, much as I have others, deeply disappointing.
Now, the term "natural wine" has become simultaneously a rallying cry for its proponents and a red flag to its detractors. Rarely do I straddle fences. But in this case I find myself truly torn.
Part of me is more than sympathetic to what adherents of natural wine seek, namely wines that have not been what they call "manipulated." That, too, is a word that's become a flash point.
Still, I get it. I daresay that few other writers have, over a long span of years, written more openly than I against the habitual use of such high-tech gizmos as spinning cones, vacuum concentrators and reverse osmosis machines.
So why, then, would I, of all people, have problems with so-called natural wines? It's surprisingly simple: Too many of these wines that I have both tasted and purchased are unclean. They have off smells and tastes. Far from elevating wine to new heights of ethereal purity, too often this very "naturalness" degrades that ambition.
It's challenging to craft a truly clean wine from crush to bottling unless you're rigorous in winery and winemaking cleanliness. Your barrels must be impeccably clean. You must be obsessive in cleaning winery surfaces and diligent in monitoring wines in barrel or cask. And you must employ pristine bottling protocols.
Is it doable? Certainly it is. But it's harder to achieve than you might imagine. Here's the kicker: Such effort is made even harder by what has become today's most powerful signifier of naturalness, which is a loudly proclaimed rejection of the use of sulfur.
Wines now are proudly sold to us as "no sulfur," meaning that no sulfur has been used in the winemaking process and, moreover, that none has been added just before bottling as a prophylactic against bacteria or yeasts in the finished wine.
Can such sulfur-free wines be truly superior? Yes, they can. But if my experience is anything to go by, such an achievement is rare. There's a reason why sulfur has been used for centuries: It works. Sulfur is an effective inhibitor of off flavors and smells, as well as an effective antioxidant.
Can you use too much of it? Yes, you can, which is why the "no sulfur" declaration has become such a rallying cry. It sounds good. It's intellectually appealing. It's attractively idealistic. The problem, as is often the case, is one of degree.
I asked Kevin Harvey, the owner and guiding spirit of Rhys Vineyards, which is "artisanal" by anybody's definition, about his use of sulfur. Many tasters (myself included) consider Rhys the source of some of California's finest Pinot Noirs and Chardonnays.
"I taste a lot of our wine without sulfur while it's in barrel," Harvey told me. "And I just don't see the big deal or positive difference of no sulfur as long as the sulfur dioxide is kept low.
For our part, we bottle with low SO2, around 20 [parts per million]. That's not much. The difference between that and zero is not that meaningful, except—and this is a big exception—for the very positive effects on stability offered by that dose of low sulfur."
So why is the rallying cry of "no sulfur" so strident? It's not enough anymore to pursue a vision of greater purity. Instead, that pursuit has become ideological. It becomes subject to a politicized litmus test. Like all such ideological causes everywhere, what previously sufficed as allegiance no longer serves an even more radicalized contingent.
This is what has occurred with natural wines. It is now not enough to actually taste your wines and conclude that they reflect the desired purity of expression. Instead, you must have impeccable radical credentials.
Matt Kramer has contributed to Wine Spectator regularly since 1985.
Of particular note for me, the comments by winery owner Kevin Harvey, about 2/3 of the way down the page. I'm somewhere in his wheelhouse, do enough to my wine to make it as good as I can, but as little as possible.
Impeccable Radical Credentials
Matt Kramer
Issue: September 30, 2016
I was once on a long car trip with my wife and two visiting friends, one Australian, the other British. The conversation turned to politics. I forget now who we were talking about, but our British friend staked out a defense of the politician's policies that the rest of us considered preposterous.
She defended her side against our gleeful onslaughts and ended by declaring, "Well, he has impeccable radical credentials." With that we all convulsed in laughter, herself included.
I thought of this memorable phrase recently while drinking yet another so-called natural wine that I found, much as I have others, deeply disappointing.
Now, the term "natural wine" has become simultaneously a rallying cry for its proponents and a red flag to its detractors. Rarely do I straddle fences. But in this case I find myself truly torn.
Part of me is more than sympathetic to what adherents of natural wine seek, namely wines that have not been what they call "manipulated." That, too, is a word that's become a flash point.
Still, I get it. I daresay that few other writers have, over a long span of years, written more openly than I against the habitual use of such high-tech gizmos as spinning cones, vacuum concentrators and reverse osmosis machines.
So why, then, would I, of all people, have problems with so-called natural wines? It's surprisingly simple: Too many of these wines that I have both tasted and purchased are unclean. They have off smells and tastes. Far from elevating wine to new heights of ethereal purity, too often this very "naturalness" degrades that ambition.
It's challenging to craft a truly clean wine from crush to bottling unless you're rigorous in winery and winemaking cleanliness. Your barrels must be impeccably clean. You must be obsessive in cleaning winery surfaces and diligent in monitoring wines in barrel or cask. And you must employ pristine bottling protocols.
Is it doable? Certainly it is. But it's harder to achieve than you might imagine. Here's the kicker: Such effort is made even harder by what has become today's most powerful signifier of naturalness, which is a loudly proclaimed rejection of the use of sulfur.
Wines now are proudly sold to us as "no sulfur," meaning that no sulfur has been used in the winemaking process and, moreover, that none has been added just before bottling as a prophylactic against bacteria or yeasts in the finished wine.
Can such sulfur-free wines be truly superior? Yes, they can. But if my experience is anything to go by, such an achievement is rare. There's a reason why sulfur has been used for centuries: It works. Sulfur is an effective inhibitor of off flavors and smells, as well as an effective antioxidant.
Can you use too much of it? Yes, you can, which is why the "no sulfur" declaration has become such a rallying cry. It sounds good. It's intellectually appealing. It's attractively idealistic. The problem, as is often the case, is one of degree.
I asked Kevin Harvey, the owner and guiding spirit of Rhys Vineyards, which is "artisanal" by anybody's definition, about his use of sulfur. Many tasters (myself included) consider Rhys the source of some of California's finest Pinot Noirs and Chardonnays.
"I taste a lot of our wine without sulfur while it's in barrel," Harvey told me. "And I just don't see the big deal or positive difference of no sulfur as long as the sulfur dioxide is kept low.
For our part, we bottle with low SO2, around 20 [parts per million]. That's not much. The difference between that and zero is not that meaningful, except—and this is a big exception—for the very positive effects on stability offered by that dose of low sulfur."
So why is the rallying cry of "no sulfur" so strident? It's not enough anymore to pursue a vision of greater purity. Instead, that pursuit has become ideological. It becomes subject to a politicized litmus test. Like all such ideological causes everywhere, what previously sufficed as allegiance no longer serves an even more radicalized contingent.
This is what has occurred with natural wines. It is now not enough to actually taste your wines and conclude that they reflect the desired purity of expression. Instead, you must have impeccable radical credentials.
Matt Kramer has contributed to Wine Spectator regularly since 1985.
