Organic, Biodynamic, and Natural Wines

Little in the world of wine causes as much consternation, confusion, and controversy as organic, biodynamic, and natural wines. These are terms that are meant to point to a supposedly purer method of making - and sometimes drinking - wine, removed from industrial scale production. Yet the terms are often misleading, wrapped up in obscure language and arcane rules, causing opinions on both sides to be based on prejudice rather than information.

There is a clear, if perhaps unquantifiable, demand for wines which have been made with as little interference or environmental impact as possible - and there are plenty of wines that meet that demand. Yet few advertise their credentials, because the terms organic, biodynamic, or natural are either so precise that producers refuse to be constrained by the rules or because the terms are too imprecise to mean anything. 

Over the last few months, I've visited a number of Californian wineries who are understandably proud of their sustainable farming practices, yet refuse to label their wines in ways which would promote those practices. This is partly because each winery wants to do their own thing without having to follow exact rules, because there is too much bureaucracy to bother getting certified, and because many consumers are put off by terms such as organic and, especially, biodynamic as there is too little understanding about what they mean.
 

Organic

The aim of organic winemaking is to be environmentally conscious, by integrating winemaking practices with the surrounding ecosphere and avoiding the use of pesticides. Many of the principles should come naturally to any small or traditional producer - unfortunately those who often can't afford to wade through all the paperwork to label their wines organic. 

For a wine to be classed as organic, the winery must be certified by the International Federation of Organic Agriculture Movements, whose rules are enshrined in EU law. Rules are strict, and wineries have to annually apply for accreditation. Being next to a non-organic winery can be enough to prevent being accepted as organic and if a winery lapses from its organic status, it has to wait another seven years before it can apply again. 

Farming the same way as previous generations, many traditional European wineries are organic even if they are not certified as such, and over a quarter of Oregon's wineries follow sustainable farming practices. But it's almost impossible to tell if a wine is organic, or which organic principles a winery follows, because it makes so little financial sense for a winery to become officially organic. Despite so many wineries practising organic winemaking, there are less than 2,000 accredited around the world, many of them in France.  

 

vegetarian/vegan

This is perhaps the most specific element of a wine that customers most ask about, and it's the one easiest accounted for. It surprises me that wineries don't label their wines as such because it comes down to one simple thing: whether the fining used to clarify a wine is from egg whites (used in red wines) or fish bladder (for whites). The wine does not have to be organic to be vegetarian or vegan, though it probably helps. 

Biodynamic

Based on a system by the maverick thinker Rudolf Steiner, biodynamics is a combination of hocus-pocus and common sense. Notoriously, biodynamic practices include burying a cow's horn full of manure in a field; other strict rules include undertaking certain elements of farming only at specific times of the day or month "by considering all aspects of lunar cycles, solar cycles, star constellations and the movement of other planets," according to When Wine Tastes Best, a biodynamic, and beautifully presented, app which advises when you should or should not drink wine. 

This spiritual, holistic approach may be easy to mock, but the general principle of adhering to nature's cycles is a sensible one. Vines are plants which rely on the surrounding environment, so wineries will leave forests uncultivated next to vineyards, plant fruit trees and keep bees, which are vital conduits in the ecosphere, and allow natural pests to flourish to protect the vines. 

Many famous wineries and expensive wines are biodynamic, though not all boast of it, leading me to call these wineries biodynamic in all but name. In California, these include Frog's Leap and Littorai. However, others fully and proudly adhere to the biodynamic philosophy. In Burgundy, one of the most exclusive wineries in the world, Domaine Romanée-Conti, has been biodynamic since 2007, while in Western Australia, Cullen Wines shifted to being biodynamic after being certified organic in 2003. 

The most obvious reason a winery doesn't call itself biodynamic is the cow horn, but there's also contradictory guidance on the use of sulphur which causes winemakers to pick and choose the elements of biodynamics they like. Sulphur is allowed to be sprayed on vines as they grow, but it isn't permitted in the winemaking process, where sulphur dioxide has long been used as an anti-oxidant preservative. 

Despite the overly spiritual approach of biodynamic winemaking, I have more sympathy for it than for organic, which is more prescriptive and makes life difficult for the small producers it should be helping. However, the minute you try to explain the principles to someone, they immediately switch off at the sound of cow horns and lunar cycles. It feels time that Steiner's early-twentieth-century philosophy is updated to twenty-first sensibilities, making it more appealing and accessible without sacrificing its core ideology.

Natural wines

The most controversial of all these categories. On one side are those who maintain that there is no such thing as natural wine for wine can only come from the vine due to human interference; on the other are the supporters who insist that these are wines that nature intended and how they used to be made before modern technology got in the way. 

Unlike the above categories, there's no strict definition of what natural wine means: it's more of a philosophy to follow as and how the winemakers choose. Although this has the advantage of giving a winemaker a certain freedom, it means no one knows what exactly to expect from a natural wine. 

The real reason natural wines cause such controversy, however, is that, unlike organic and biodynamic wines, they can taste foul. This puts natural wine in the same category as sour beer: under the watchful expertise of a skilled winemaker, something truly unique and expressive can be created. With less watchfulness and less expertise, it's basically fermentation gone wrong.

I visited Terroir, a natural wine bar in San Francisco to test the quality of a few natural wines. Many bottles of great wine from Champagne, Alsace, and Jura stared down from the shelves (although some were organic or biodynamic, rather than defiantly natural). Natural wine is a cause led in particular by the French, stubborn traditionalists that they are, though there were also impressive bottles from Barolo. None of these quality wines is labelled as natural: they're just expensive expressions of terroir. 

a wine glass doesn't stop it tasting like cider

There's no doubt that any wine promoted as 'natural' should be approached with caution: it's likely to be cloudy and may have a very short shelf life. The three wines I tasted summed up the highs and lows of natural wine. 

Donkey & Goat Rousanne 2012 El Dorado AVA, CA A cloudy green colour that looked like a farmhouse cider: many natural wines are unfiltered to keep the haziness 'natural' to wine before bottling. Stinky apples on the nose, like a farmhouse cider. And on the palate, you've guessed it. I was too polite to ask if they'd poured me a cider by mistake. 

The manifesto of this San Francisco producer sums up natural wine well: no cultured yeast or bacteria, no plastic, no nutrients, enzymes or enhancers, no machines for crushing, little (to no) sulphur, no new oak, no prophylatic racking schedules (not exactly sure what this means, but it's clearly a bad thing), and no stablization. I'm pretty sure the wine could have done with some of these treatments. 

Simion Grenache Gris 2012 Rhône Much better, though the aromas were too individual (code for stinky and earthy) to appeal to the everyday drinker. However, this was a quality, if overly sweaty, wine that was characteristic of the grape. Its dominant fruit were apples, which I put down to a coincidence. (I can't find anything on this producer, which suggests I may have written the name down wrong.)

Tripoz Crémant de Bourgogne NV From a certified biodynamic producer in Burgundy, this sparkling wine was by far the most appealing and sophisticated of the three. Beautiful cinnamon-biscuit aromas, though dare I say it a little too appley. 

The three categories of organic, biodynamic, and natural often overlap, making trying to define a winemaker's methods more difficult and confusing than it needs to be. Of course, attempting to create a global system adhered to by all winemakers which successfully defines sustainable wine producing practices is all but impossible. However, each of these three categories have flaws which seem to hinder, rather than help, the cause of sustainable farming. What it of course comes down to is what's in the bottle; of all these wines, I'd always seek out a biodynamic producer as likely to be the most interesting as well as the highest quality. Anyone for some Romanée-Conti?  

California snapshots

In California, the sun always shines. I heard one clap of thunder which was followed by a very brief downpour. I woke up in Sonoma to two mornings of cool fog; by eleven, the sun was in the sky again and temperatures in the mid-20s. Too much sun isn't a good thing, though. As it's barely rained all winter, there's a real drought problem in the state. The winemakers I spoke to in Sonoma and Napa didn't seem to think that was a problem, as they had enough water in reserve. Even if they can get by this year, long-term water shortages must surely be an issue and will affect how winemakers approach their job. The only winery that seemed concerned by the drought was Frog's Leap - the only winery I visited that refuses to use irrigation. Will other wineries be forced to follow Frog's Leap's lead and learn how to dry farm? If so, will wines be leaner and lower in alcohol and owe much more to the skill of the winemaker than California's idyllic conditions?

Mexicans in the morning fog

The vineyards at this time of year weren't teeming with workers, but there were still plenty trimming the vines beginning to flower. Every single worker I saw was Mexican and, as far as I could tell, valued by their employers. The employers' main concern with Mexican labour? - immigration legislation. The tougher legislation becomes, the harder it is for wineries to meet their costs, and it's a real concern for the future, as well as those Mexicans in need of work. Unfortunately public opinion, in the US just as in European countries, hasn't grasped how vital immigration is to their countries' economies.

Frog's Leap

Everything about Frog's Leap sets it apart: the name, the label, the alcohol, the winemaking, the philosophy. Land - not just terroir, but how it's cultivated and what other plants are grown there - is at the heart of it all. There are bees, fruits, and plants surrounding the vineyards, all contributing to the land's biodiversity. Everything is sustainable down to the last degree: all the buildings have been made from fully recycled material. It makes the winery seem quirky and different, but these sustainable practices may make it more financially and commercially stable as California's climate becomes more extreme. And the wines are great too: Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Zinfandel, Merlot, and Cabernet Sauvignon are the grapes, producing elegant, restrained, expressive wines. We were also lucky enough to taste the 1993 Cabernet Sauvignon - these wines have serious ageing potential.

Sauvignon Blanc

Sauvignon Blanc, Cakebread Cellars

Like the good wine snob I try not to be, Sauvignon Blanc isn't my favourite grape: too obvious, too upfront, and too often the same aromas over and over again. However, California opened my mind, as I tasted some really interesting wines full of character and individuality, and quite different from both Loire and New Zealand. My favourite was from Cakebread; partly fermented in old oak barrels and aged for four to five months in neutral oak, the wine has lots of complexity. Although the characteristic flavours of Sauvignon Blanc are there - grapefruit, citrus, melon, capsicum - there's a creamy depth to the wine from the oak ageing and it has the potential to age another five years. Clos du Val also produce two excellent Sauvignons. The 2012 Sauvignon Blanc was grassy with ripe tropical fruits, and very fresh, but it was the 2011 "Signature Series" I was especially impressed by. A blend of Sauvignon and Sémillon, the grapes are separately barrel fermented and aged in neutral oak. After six months, the two wines are blended and aged for another five to six months, again in neutral oak. The seriousness with which the wine is treated is evident in the complex, appealing aromas: grassy, spiky, tropical, toasty, and spicy. A great wine with Thai curry or seafood, and again with ageing potential. 

Crispin's Spirits

another hard tasting; photo courtesy of @winebizkid

I visited this distillery in Mendocino in order to taste the brandies of Germain-Robin, reputed to be as good as those of Cognac, but the visit ended up centring around the spirits of Germain-Robin's former assistant distiller, Crispin Cain. After seriously injuring his back at the distillery over ten years ago, he created a rose liqueur to give himself something to do. He spent a great deal of time perfecting the liqueur and it was finally launched in 2007 to great success. Since then, with the help of his two sons, he has created a series of spirits, all of extremely high quality and great individual character.

The relationship between Crispin and Hubert Germain-Robin, whom he picked up hitchhicking in the 1980s, has clearly been key to the development of his spirits, as Crispin makes great use of the distillery's equipment. Part of the spirits' individuality comes from the old Cognac still installed in the distillery and then from the very old barrels scattered around the warehouse - some of them over a hundred years old. Add to that the imaginative skill of the distiller and you have a set of unique spirits.

I'm still not a convert to vodka, but I enjoyed the four I tasted. The "Straight Vodka" had been made with 10% Viognier, giving it grapey and floral notes, while the three citrus vodkas had each been naturally flavoured, with, respectively, citrus, tangerine, and Buddha's Hand citron. Refreshing but with deep, rich citrus flavours, without any of vodka's harsh alcohol. The Russell Henry London Dry Gin had lots of complex but balanced botanical flavours - juniper, coriander, rosemary, grains of paradise, cinnamon, and cardamon. There are two flavoured versions of the gin, with lime and ginger. Crispin has also started making whiskey; they're still young - he even makes a colourless whiskey - but with lots of potential.

My two favourite drinks were the 1850 Cocktail and the Rose Liqueur, where the enterprise had begun for Crispin. The 1850 is a barrel-aged cocktail, made with Germain-Robin brandy and absinthe, Crispin's whiskey, and herbs - like a Sazerac, but with both brandy and whiskey. Finally, the Rose Liqueur is simply divine: an apple and honey base, giving it a natural, rich sweetness, flavoured with seventeen rose petals, the most important being Don Juan, giving chocolate and raspberry character to the drink. Like California itself: rich, indulgent, and irresistible.

growlers

Every time I've visted an American microbrewery I've looked jealously on at the locals topping up their growlers. These are 64oz bottles (just under 2 litres; Americans serve their drink in fluid ounces, which is very confusing if you've been brought up in the twentieth century on the metric system) which you can buy from the brewery to take home. Once you're done, you come back and fill it up again. This is a great way of getting beer that's only available on tap at the brewery, as well as promoting customer loyalty. As I was staying at the family home of @winebizkid in Chico, we got to take home some growlers from the famous local brewery, Sierra Nevada. Launched in 1979, Sierra Nevada was at the forefront of the craft brewery revolution. Its beers are hop-forward, though produced in quite a range - they also make porters, stouts, wheat beers, and a barleywine. My favourite of the beers I tasted, and which I filled my growler up with, was the Nooner Session IPA - straw-coloured, very drinkable, with citrus and vanilla, and extremely refreshing for those warm Californian nights.

no American home is complete without a couple of growlers

Californian Chardonnay

Chardonnay from California fulfils all the stereotypes of the state itself: big, bold, brash, unabashed, and brazen. Subtlety goes out of the window, the wine is smothered in new oak, and given full-on malolactic fermentation. The resulting wine is all about the bravado of the winemaker rather than the primary flavours of the fruit, and feels like being smacked in the face by a buttered oak barrel.

Stereotypes do exist for a reason, but my trip to California has shown that many winemakers are determined to prove them wrong and make wine from Chardonnay in all sorts of styles that are as expressive of the grape as of the winemaking process. It's difficult to know whether this is due to consumer demand or the whims of winemakers, but I think it's clear that understanding of how to make good wine from Chardonnay has greatly increased in recent years. 

Of the wineries I visited, Ramey is the one which comes closest to conforming to the image of Californian Chardonnay. All the wines have 100% MLF, and the wines will be acidified after MLF if necessary. They're big, creamy, and smoky. However, the use of oak has decreased, and is contuining to do so. In 2002 (David Ramey started making wine on his own in the late 1990s), the single-vineyard Chardonnays were aged with 66% new oak; that's now down to 45%, and 30% is planned for the 2014 vintage. The AVA wines feature even less oak. 

There is a real commitment to place too. We tasted six Chardonnays back to back, and all of them were expressive of where they were from. Two - the Sonoma Coast and Russian River Valley 2011s - were "appellation wines," but the grapes were still taken from a small set of vineyards rather than from all over the AVAs. The other four, also from 2011, were single-vineyard wines, from Platt Vineyard near Bodega Bay in Sonoma Coast, Ritchie Vineyard from Russian River Valley, and Hyde and Hudson Vineyards in Carneros, Napa. The differences between each wine were subtle and nuanced, a reflection of terroir despite their power. The Hudson Vineyard, in particular, felt like an homage to Burgundy: slightly reductive, with a long, creamy finish, this wine will open up well with age.

Clos du Val, a Napa winery founded in 1972, has also cut back on the use of new oak and MLF, so that just 20% new oak is used in ageing. The Chardonnay Carneros 2012 has a light creaminess with stone fruits, a balanced wine designed to be drunk fairly young (within 3-5 years). Californian winemakers are open to experimenting with different clones of the grape to find the perfect California-Chardonnay match and to create more individual wines. The Lone Cypress Ranch 2012 uses the Dijon Musqué clone, which is more aromatic with more tropical fruit flavours, producing a bigger, but still balanced, and complex wine with more ageing potential. 

At Cakebread, another winery that's been going since the early 1970s, we tasted two Chardonnays, one the current release from 2012 and the other the same wine but from 2008. With 16% MLF and 8-9 months in 20% new oak, I found the 2012 a little subdued and in need of a bit more Californian oomph. However, the 2008 had already developed lots of complex, richer flavours, evidence of how a subtle, balanced wine can mature. 

Frog's Leap, whose first vintage was in 1981, is known for its very non-Californian approach to wine - biodynamic in all but name, lower-alcohol, and restrained flavours. The Chardonnay epitomises their approach, where the character of the grape is all-important. The wine is fermented in new oak barrels for seven days until it's almost dry, when it's transferred to concrete tanks. Newly fermented wine is continually added to these tanks, building up the temperature to 30°C, the yeasts and intense temperature creating new, complex aromas. The temperature gradually cools down, fermentation stops, and the wine is left on its lees, with no stirring, until Easter. The result is a lean and reserved wine, but with structure and body from the lees. 

Chardonnay California style: the driveway to Scribe Winery, Sonoma

All of these are long-established wineries whose wines are available in the UK. Scribe, on the other hand, dates back to just 2007, when it was established by two young brothers on land planted by German emigrants in the 1850s. Their philosophy mirrors Frog's Leap's in so many ways: all but biodynamic, alcohol as low as 11.2% (for their Sylvaner, made in tribute to the original German settlers), and wines restrained and lean, expressive of grape and place rather than winemaking techniques - "more work in the vineyard, less work in the cellar." The Estate Chardonnay, at around 12.5%, was a lean, crisp wine, with complexity from the cool, slow fermentation and structure from the long lees contact - no use of oak or MLF. The Skin Ferment Chardonnay 2013 was a different beast - left on its skins for 90 days in concrete eggs, it was very grapey, almost like a very good grappa. The wine was made as an experiment in 2010, but now it's made every year, yet another completely different, fascinating, and characterful expression of the Chardonnay grape. 

All of these are high-end producers, so it's impossible to say whether this focus on a new, more restrained form of Chardonnay is indicative of a change in taste in the general American palate. There's a feeling, though, that the American public are getting more educated about wine, hence the change in direction for some Californian winemakers. Moreover, everyone I spoke to was keen to stress how food-friendly their wines were, which reflects a definite trend for food and wine pairing. These winemakers seem less isolated and more open than they used to, looking towards Burgundy for inspiration and guidance, creating contemporary wines but happy to use hundreds of years of tradition for guidance.