Story #6 - Thoughts on Natural Wine
October 29th, 2025 | Xavier Guichard, Director of Office
Natural wine is a subject that, more than any other, divides the wine world. Just as considerate parents teach their children to avoid topics such as religion and politics at the dinner table — subjects sure to stir at least one guest the wrong way — it wouldn’t be unreasonable to add “natural wine” to that list if civility in discourse is to be maintained, such is the strength of emotion it provokes.
Some defend and live by natural wine, its style and ideals; others would prefer never to hear the words “natural” and “wine” uttered in the same sentence again, seeing its very existence as an affront to taste. Whichever side of the fence one stands on — if any at all — the reality is that most of us, professionals and amateurs alike, do not actually understand what the slippery term “natural wine” means, let alone what it should mean. Those who love it recall unshakeable memories of bottles flaunting the purest, most vibrant fruit, exuberant aromatics, and real personality. Those who despise it are haunted by equally vivid encounters with bretty, mousy, or otherwise spoiled wines.
In our constant pursuit of truth, our goal is to inform — and, should we be so fortunate, to reform. A definition of terms is a necessary starting point, as this short article aims to touch on the many facets of the world of natural wine for those completely new to the concept, and to open new paradigms for the most erudite readers.
Isn’t All Wine “Natural”?
Natural wine is a notoriously slippery term that has become synonymous with certain exotically scented and unusually coloured beverages. At its core, however, it can be defined quite simply: natural wine generally refers to wines made without chemical additives at any phase of the winemaking process.
Some see it as a black-and-white concept — a bottle either is or isn’t deserving of the term. Others, ourselves included, see it as a scale: on one end, highly processed wines relying on chemical interventions both in the vineyard and the cellar; on the other, wines that see not even the faintest trace of anything bearing a warning label. The fact remains that there is no clear threshold, either formally or factually, where “natural wine” begins or ends. Most agree, however, that a wine may be called natural if only minimal chemicals find their way into the vineyard (some would even exclude copper sulphate) and no sulphur is added during winemaking. These two areas of natural winemaking must be explored if any real substance is to be brought to the debate.
Vineyard Management
Sulphur in winemaking tends to monopolise the debate around natural winemaking, yet vineyard management and how a winemaker treats his vineyard holdings deserves far more attention than it receives — some would say it should be the primary consideration. There is a perfectly logical premise that should underpin any natural winemaker’s approach to the vineyard — if we may be so bold, for clarity’s sake, to speak of “the natural winemaker” as a unified term. The idea is that harmful chemicals used to control disease and protect the crop are a poisoned gift: they destroy both the health of the vines and the soil, and in turn make their way into the wine and ultimately to the consumer. From this standpoint, the desire to avoid them seems perfectly reasonable. The question then becomes: how does one manage the very real threat of disease without waging chemical warfare? Some winemakers believe, to varying degrees, that chemical interventions can indeed be avoided.
We recently met one of the most advanced figures in vineyard ecology, Hans-Peter Schmidt of Mythopia. He promotes practices such as cover crops, polyculture, replanting trees and berries, and reintroducing biodiversity to a degree that makes your average natural winemaker look like a cattle farmer. Even he admits, however, that in certain regions such as Valais, the use of copper sulphates in the vines remains unavoidable. Biodynamic pioneers like Lalou Bize-Leroy go to similarly extraordinary lengths to avoid chemicals in the vines — famously using helicopters to spray organic preparations and even practicing acupuncture on underperforming vineyard sites.
What is remarkable is the contradiction within the natural wine world itself: many “conventional” producers such as Leroy take great care to maintain health and biodiversity in their vineyards, yet are classified as conventional because sulphur is used at bottling. Conversely, certain so-called natural winemakers show little concern for the vitality of their vineyard sites, using chemical treatments while forgoing sulphur at bottling — and still claim the label “natural.” In fact, only a small minority of winemakers such as Schmidt are as “natural” in the vineyard as they are in the cellar. For this reason, Schmidt considers many natural winemakers hardly natural at all.
It would seem that viticulture remains the most under-appreciated aspect of the natural wine landscape — one that calls into question the legitimacy of many who claim the term. As Schmidt puts it: a natural wine begins in the vineyard, and in the current constellation, certain conventional producers excel at this far more than their “natural” counterparts.
The S-Word
With viticultural practices mostly ignored by consumers, it seems the defining element of natural wine in the public eye is the use or avoidance of sulphur throughout the vinification process. In short, the chemical sulphur is conventionally used at multiple stages of winemaking to neutralise harmful bacteria, stabilise the wine, and preserve it once it leaves the estate.
Although sulphur occurs naturally in small quantities during fermentation, it is employed by most winemakers to mitigate flaws caused by unwanted microbes and oxidation, ensuring the wine can travel and age gracefully. Others virulently oppose it, believing that it destroys the “life” of the wine and homogenises something that should never be generic. They argue that flaws can be prevented through other means, and that even if minor imperfections remain, they are preferable to a “dead wine.” Both approaches have their merits. Some winemakers choose a middle path, using near-homeopathic doses of sulphur; others reject it entirely.
Between these extremes lies the great philosophical schism that no one has ever been able to fully bridge. In the end, both the vineyard and the cellar reveal the same paradox: ideals often outpace execution. The vineyard, though the cradle of authenticity, is too often neglected in favour of dogma in the cellar; and sulphur, for all its controversy, becomes the convenient symbol of virtue or vice. Between ecological integrity and enological purity, few manage to hold both with conviction. The question that follows, then, is whether “natural” remains a useful distinction at all — or whether the only meaningful measure of truth lies, quite simply, in the wine itself.
To Be or Not to Be (Natural)
How, then, does one reconcile the idea of natural wine within their own lexicon of wine? How are we to make sense of a world so fragmented, so lacking in unity, and judge its merits and shortcomings without either embracing or rejecting it in its entirety?
We believe the answer depends heavily on what one considers the purpose of wine to be. In our view, wine should provoke enjoyment while carrying a strong sense of identity. These two qualities are inextricably linked: a wine that sings with character and individuality brings the greatest pleasure to those who seek depth and truth in the experience of wine.
Many natural winemakers invoke terroir expression as their ultimate justification, yet deliver wines so unrefined, flawed, and unfinished that they reveal no individuality at all — wines that in fact all taste the same. Others, however, who practice what they preach in the vines and manage to circumnavigate sulphur in the cellar whilst avoiding flaws, create ethereal wines of exceptional transparency and place. It seems, then, that many roads can lead to that destination where a wine, soulful and sincere, speaks clearly of its origin and of those who crafted it.
The truth that lies in the glass is the only true measure of a winemaker’s success — conventional or natural. Ultimately, the wine itself must stand as the only true justification of its making.