Is natural the feminism of wine?
An image in crisis
This Saturday marks the third annual edition of Amsterdam’s natural wine festival. Had you asked me to go a year ago, I’d have surely turned you down. But this year, I’m quite looking forward to attending. Why the change of heart? In true writerly style, I’ve completely overblown a metaphor to get to the bottom of my own feelings about a thing.
“I am not a feminist.” Discuss.
When I was at school, I kept a notebook of catchy quotes or titbits of wisdom that I thought deserved writing down. Some of them were my own words (cringe). At the time, I was at an all-girls school, blissfully shielded from gender politics and therefore (according to my scribbles in the aforementioned, recently rediscovered notebook) ardently not a feminist.
As I got older, I met young women who had seen a little more of the world than I had, who persuaded me of the ongoing necessity for the feminist cause. Equal rights and opportunities for men and women weren’t even a given in the community in which I grew up – let alone further afield. It didn’t take me long after leaving the bubble of boarding school to realise that these women were absolutely right.
Once I’d admitted my own feminist credentials to myself, I set about convincing those around me. Unsurprisingly, many of my friends who’d had similar upbringings were equally adamant that they were not feminists. And yet when I asked them about their beliefs, they all aligned with feminism’s central tenet: equal rights for all genders. “Well, I agree with the idea of equality,” they’d say; “but I wouldn’t call myself a feminist.”
That’s when I realised the problem with feminism wasn’t based in its philosophy – the issue was its image.
Feminism in the late 1990s and early 2000s had become synonymous with man hating, with one-upmanship, with ugly clothes and scruffy hair. It was something that a lot of women couldn’t get on board with – not to mention men. Somehow, the actual core belief that we could all agree on – equal rights for everyone – got lost in an image crisis.
Foxy-arsed kombucha*
Fast forward 20 years, and I feel like natural wines are in the same predicament. (Bear with me on this one.)
After far too many nights out in Amsterdam paying ten euros for a glass of cloudy liquid that tastes somewhere between cider and kombucha, with a foxy funk that just should not exist in wine, I was ready to scream: GIVE ME THE SULPHITES!!! I’m even in a WhatsApp group with similarly middle-aged, non-hipster ladies called “Unnatural Wine Women” where any suggestion of dinner at a restaurant purporting to serve natural wines gets immediately rejected.
But like almost anything in life, it turns out natural wine is more nuanced than that.
I recently went out for a drink with fellow writer and long-time natural wine expert Simon J Woolf. I’d suggested a particular natural wine bar that’s not my favourite, but I was feeling smug that I’d picked a place he was bound to like. “Funnily enough, I’m not that excited about it…” he replied; “their taste is mostly for very ‘out there’ French stuff that just doesn’t suit me.” (If that sounds ungracious, it wasn’t: he later came up with several suggestions and we plumped for a lovely alternative that also serves natural wines – just not the “out there” variety.)
My point is: we were in violent agreement. Woolf is an outspoken advocate of natural wines, while I’ve ranted against them on many an occasion. But here we were, both concurring on the type of wine we like – or, perhaps more importantly, the type of wine we don’t like.
You say tomato, I say tomato
Because guess what? Those of us who appreciate good-quality wine all actually agree on the same general philosophy. We favour small-batch winemaking over mass production. We value organic methods that don’t involve grapes being endlessly sprayed with chemical fertilisers and pesticides. We’d prefer to taste fruit over generic oak chips. We’re fine with the sparing use of sulphites to save a wine from going off within minutes of opening the bottle. As Woolf puts it: “Call it natural, real, authentic, minimal intervention, the end game was never supposed to be faulty wine.”
Just as feminism had become mired in a reputation that had nothing to do with its central belief, natural winemaking has become synonymous with a particular style of wine that actually doesn’t have a lot to do with the production process. Natural wine does not need to taste like foxy-arsed kombucha. And just because that’s what Amsterdam’s wine bars seemed to be favouring for a while doesn’t mean it represents all natural wine. In the past few months, I’ve tasted natural wines not just in the Netherlands but across Europe that have entirely challenged the prejudices I had against it.
In short, just like feminism, natural wine has an image problem – not a winemaking problem.
*I recently watched an Olivier Coleman film called Wicked Little Letters, in which the poison pen writer repeatedly uses the term “foxy arse” to insult the receiver. I loved this phrase and found it weirdly apt to describe a certain type of natural wine!
Five natural wines that aren’t funky or foxy
Yes, there’s still plenty of cloudy, kombucha-esque wine kicking around, especially in northern Europe. But I genuinely believe the tide is turning. Natural wine is no longer (or perhaps never should have been) a “style” – it’s simply a low-intervention production method. These natural wines deliver great flavour in five very different styles without the funk.
Der Graf Riesling from Mosel, Germany – apple, mineral white with finely balanced acidity that’s a great match for Asian foods featuring spice and/or umami. See Wine-Searcher.com for availability.
Peluda "Binto no Tranco" from Vinho Verde, Portugal – refreshing, medium-bodied rosé made from local Portuguese grapes that’s dry and very easy to drink. Available via Real Portuguese Wine.
Quartomoro, Vernaccia sulle bucce from Sardinia, Italy – a funk-free orange wine that’s aromatic with honeysuckle, mandarins and apricots, richly textured and delicious with cheese. Available via Decántalo.
Reynard Rebels Carignan/Merlot blend from Provence, France – juicy, vibrant red with wild berry flavours, low tannins and a refreshing quality. See Wine-Searcher.com for availability.
Quinta do Javali Tinto from Douro Valley, Portugal – rich, robust red made from the same grapes as port but used here in an earthy, structured table wine. Available via Real Portuguese Wine.
Sources/related reading:
International Women’s Development Agency: “What Is Feminism?” https://iwda.org.au/learn/what-is-feminism/
The Wine Edit: “A Beginner’s Guide to Orange Wine”
The View from My Table: “Europe’s Natural Wine Wars”
The Morning Claret: “Natural wine shouldn’t be a style”
I've thought about this analogy a lot too, so I'm pleased to see someone writing about it. Both movements have their extreme side that seems to get all the press and masks what both movements are really about. Great read
Well I loved this one Vicky! I want equal rights (especially rights to my own body) but the feminist movement is not something I align with- at all. I love men, in fact I love a middle aged white man. They would hate me for it. But I do prefer being an outlier. When it comes to natural wines, I like good ones. But sulfites are needed in most wines and funny enough I’ve seen so many anti sulfite hipsters eating french fries and charcuterie. The irony. I say, try some, not all are faulty and horrible for us to ingest. There are some great ones coming out of Portugal. But I’ve had some awful ones from France and America recently. 🤷🏻♀️ But it all leads to the question of… what the hell is natural wine anyway. 😂