The Unfiltered Truth
A Wine Omnivore's Awakening to Natural Wines
I love wine. I have for much of my life.
My uncle was the first to introduce the stuff to me on nights that I ate over at his house. My aunt (no, not the French one) would make a delicious dinner, and my uncle would climb in on his hands and knees under the staircase. He had cut a hole in the void below the steps and insulated a homemade wine cellar. Inside were dusty boxes of all vintages and varietals. Mostly California wines from the fledgling years of Napa and Sonoma, they all had a story.
I remember that my uncle had a case of wine from my birth year. I was both touched by the sentimentality and the novelty. The wine was almost two decades old, and he had had the patience to hold onto it with the simple hope that it might appreciate in quality. I was paralyzed by the intention. I was titillated by the potential.
I don't think I was 16 when my Uncle shared with me an estate bottle of Ridge Vineyards. There was the pageantry of removing the cork, the etiquette of tasting, the pedigree and history behind the craft. It stroked all my romantic notions of what food and life and pleasure could be. I fell in love with the earthy, fruity liquid before it even hit my lips. And boy did I feel a little warm and funny after finishing my glass.
I stumbled through the next five years trying to learn more about wine, but–at college–I was more interested in its intoxicating qualities. My classmates would ask me before buying something (sometimes illegally) from the grocery store. Is this any good?
But it wasn’t until I experienced a half bottle of Chateau Lynch Bage at the famed restaurant Daniel in New York City, that I really appreciated good wine. The meal was being comped by my boss to congratulate my wife and me on our recent engagement. I’m embarrassed to say I don’t remember the dinner, but I do remember the drink. The smell, or “nose,” filled my glass with a familiar mix of blackberries and currants. But the taste of tobacco and leather that came with the first sip shocked me. I’d never experienced a wine like that. How could that flavor exist in juice, and why was it enjoyable? This realization broke open a new dimension, and I fell right through the wormhole. And so began my journey into wines with all their names, varieties, regions and styles.
For the next 20 years, I explored everything about wine. I started with California, then France, Argentina, Spain, Italy and New Zealand. At one point, over the course of a month-long visit to Buenos Aires, I began a wine log, recording every bottle I bought at the local grocery store. I continued to keep that journal for the next two years, with copious notes on any bottle I got my hands on.
I learned how to taste, how to describe, and even dabbled in making wine. I was asked my opinion by friends, and even got into arguments about which bottles were best. At one point there was a spreadsheet on my laptop with all the wines I had in my cellar, with optimal dates to drink. There were three wine apps on my phone. This was–of course–all before I had kids, but it was clear: I was hooked.
Folks used to ask me what my favorite wine was. This is like asking about one’s favorite child. But if I had to choose, I’d agree with Jim Harrison–rest his cantankerous, gourmandizing soul. The red wines of the Gigondas region of France would make the perfect daily driver house wine. Big, bold, and inky purple juice stands up to most menu items in my home, and the Rhone Valley is a beautiful marriage of Southern French and Californian characteristics.
“The simple act of opening a bottle of wine has brought more happiness to the human race than all the collective governments in the history of earth.” —Jim Harrison
The “Natural” Revolution
Given my decades-long obsession, it's surprising that today, I know so little about the fastest growing segment of the wine business, natural wines. After all those years of wine travel, education, and tastings, how did I miss this movement that's revolutionizing the industry?
What are these mysterious creations, this artisanal wine renaissance, and why is everyone so excited about them?
Natural wine goes by several names: naked wine, raw wine, low-intervention, zero-zero, living wine and in France, the largest market, vin nature. But to get an actual definition of natural wine is nearly impossible when you ask folks in the know. Maybe they don’t want to draw a line in the sand, or know the moment they do, someone will challenge the definition.
But from what I can decipher, natural wine steers away from artificial chemistry, relies on or requires organic (or better) farming methods, utilizes native or wild yeasts for fermentation, steers clear of sulfites, discourages over-filtering, and shuns any other additives or “fining” techniques taught in the fanciest schools of wine chemistry, also known as oenology.
If natural wines are all about what we shouldn’t put in them, then what is going on with conventional wines? Is it possible that the sacred juice I've been drinking for decades—the bottles I've tracked, celebrated, and collected—could be just as contaminated as cooking oils and CAFO-raised beef? Sacre Bleu! I knew that alcohol wasn't good for me, but is nothing sacred?
It turns out that a lot of conventional wines are seriously adulterated. Most of us know they get sulfites added as preservatives. And maybe less surprising, winemakers use conventional yeasts to ensure consistent fermentation. Sugar is added–especially in the cooler French regions–to increase alcohol content. Tartaric acid is added in warmer climates where natural acid is low. Bentonite clay, egg whites, and even isinglass–a collagen from the swimming bladders of dead fish–are used to clarify wine by removing suspended particles, proteins, and phenolics that could cause haziness or bitterness.
All those years I thought I was drinking something pure, something that connected me to the terroir, and to winemaking traditions going back centuries. But now I may be drinking something heavily processed, dead to the land, and more technologically complicated than Velveeta? Had I been duped?
To better understand this great decanted deception, I needed to speak with some people smarter than I was on the subject, and get better informed about where wine was headed in the 21st Century.
A Community, Not Just a Product
I started with
, an American writer who specializes in natural wines, publishes the newsletter , and just opened the only-natural wine bar, La Cave Du Centre in France’s Burgundy region.Ayscough doesn't mince his words when he frames natural wine as more a movement than a drink, "organized in opposition to 99.9% of the wine world." He argues that conventional wine is essentially "born dead" due to destructive farming practices that eliminate healthy yeast populations on the grapes.
"Wine is stillborn because of the way it’s cultivated," he elaborated. Destructive farming with synthetic fertilizers, anti-fungals, pesticides and herbicides is followed by winemaking processes that further denature the juice through additives and filtration at every phase of production.
It’s clear that Ayscough isn’t drawn to natural wine by the pretenses that often accompany wine drinking culture.
"I have nothing in common with most people who are into wine,” he admits. “So many people want to expound on whether they like something or not, yet they don't really know why."
Instead, his passion stems from how natural wines link the land to the small family-owned farms still doing all the manual labor. "There is an urgent political issue around food production,” and natural wines are illuminating that disconnect.
"One of the reasons I live in a wine-making community is that it's still a community," Ayscough emphasizes. In contrast, mechanized agricultural regions in France have become "depopulated, miserable places."
When I asked what the American system looked like to him, he was short. "America is nearly unredeemable, beyond redemption."
Yikes!
"Small-scale agriculture is economically non-viable; you don't have the community."
Despite this, Ayscough was a bit more optimistic about Europe. Although the natural wine community in France started in the early 90s, many other nations are showing growth, including Germany and the Czech Republic. However, he cautioned that in America, where there are "a couple dozen" actual producers amid many more enthusiasts, it's crucial to ask about the grape sources and how they’re being produced.
In Europe we thought of wine as something as healthy and normal as food and also a great giver of happiness and well being and delight. Drinking wine was not a snobbism nor a sign of sophistication nor a cult; it was as natural as eating and to me as necessary. —Ernest Hemingway
From the Source
Enter, Michael Frey of Mariah Vineyards in Mendocino California. He’s a dirt-under-his-fingers farmer who, despite his Swiss heritage, brings a perspective deeply rooted in New World regenerative agriculture, rather than the stuffy terroir and tradition of Old World convention. Michael’s been experimenting with how regenerative agriculture can give wine making an environmental facelift, and plans to share the fruits of his labor, with a new wine label to be released later this year, dirt Wine.
"I strongly believe that you should know what you are drinking," Michael says in his precise and Swiss German-accented English, his curly black hair contained under a low-pulled baseball cap. "In the wine industry, you can use 76 additives that don't have to be on the label. How is that allowed?”
Despite his disappointment with conventional winemaking practices, Michael doesn't consider his wine “natural,” and avoids the label. This may be because he still uses sulfites, a compound derived from sulfur dioxide that is commonly used as a wine preservative around the world, but that many natural wine enthusiasts turn up their nose at.
Instead, Michael prefers describing his grapes with terms like "clean" and "nature positive," stressing the importance of sharing with the consumer the entire cultivation and production process that he calls “radical transparency.” In fact, the way he talks about grapes reminds me a lot of how we used to talk about meat in the butcher shop. Responsibly raised, nutrient-dense, and beneficial to the environment.
Michael emphasizes that truly great wine begins on the vine, not in the cellar. His approach includes dry farming—allowing vines to develop deep root systems rather than relying on irrigation—and maintaining full ground cover beneath the vines to promote biodiversity.
"A good wine has deep roots that grab the soil and express the place," he explains, contrasting this with conventional vines that "go down one foot to the [irrigation line] and travel along the dripper."
When I ask Michael how he decides what methods to focus on, he interjects that it’s all about “measurable outcomes," and I think he means it. Mariah Vineyard is working closely with the international regenerative ag icon, Savory Institute, on multi-year studies assessing the benefits of biodiversity and carbon sequestration on the estate.
Climate change is another reason Michael is following the natural wine trend. Increasingly, weather patterns in California’s wine regions are getting inconsistent and extreme. From unexpected snow in June to 100-degree days in July, topped with wildfire ash rain, these dramatic shifts force vintners to question long-held beliefs, adapt their growing practices, and potentially even the grape varieties they cultivate.
But ultimately, Michael is growing grapes au naturel, even if he doesn’t call them that, because he can differentiate his juice “from an ocean of California wine,” and make a bit better profit margin.
Doing good and doing well. I commend that.
Where to Buy?
If you want to experience some good natural wine, both experts encourage buying directly from the vineyards, or shopping at stores that specialize in natural wine. Don't expect to find good quality in the 'other' wine category in conventional stores. And unlike with conventional wines where region or varietal can determine quality, natural wines are all about the people who make them.
"People remember the names of film directors and actors in the movies they like. It's no different with wine makers,” says Aaron. “The vintage and region don't matter as much. A good winemaker who works in an honest way is going to make something interesting." So pick the winemaker or the label over the kinds of grapes or geography they’re made in.
Some other California producers include, Margins Wine, Bedrock Wines, So Far Out, and Martha Stouman.
And, if you don’t have a good natural wine store or producer near you, consider globally distributed Tablas Creek. They’re the first regenerative-organic certified vineyard in the world, and the only winery club I belong to.
Come sit with me! Let us drink the holy wine of happiness. —Rumi
Full Circle
What I took away from my conversations with Michael and Aaron was that natural winemaking and regenerative agricultural practices preserve a sense of place and tradition while simultaneously foster community—elements long ago lost to many facets of our food system thanks to industrial agriculture. While natural wines may be a small segment of the larger market, and present unfamiliar blends and flavor profiles, they also offer something beyond the bottle: transparency about what we're consuming, and a connection to the land and the people who work it.
As we reevaluate our relationship with food, perhaps it's time to extend the same curiosity and consciousness to what fills our wine glasses. As Frey aptly puts it, "We are asking so many questions about meat and food, and we are asking zero questions about wine, and that needs to change."
I was so blessed to have a family member share with me the wonders of wine at an early age. I would like to think that what made that first glass of Ridge Vineyards in my uncle’s dining room so special wasn't just the taste—it was the authenticity. Ridge has long been known for minimal intervention winemaking, even before the natural wine movement had a name. Perhaps that first glass planted a seed that started to grow my realization of the importance of winemaking that respects the grape, the land, and the people who do the hard work.
In the coming weeks, I plan to spend some more time exploring this new world of natural wine. I’d love to hear from you about your favorite vineyards, regions, and any questions you might have about industry. Perhaps it's time to start a new spreadsheet and a new journey—one that connects me not just to the taste, but to the soil, the farmers, and the future of making wine more naturally.
Cheers!