My first time..
The first time I heard about natural wine was a few years ago when I found a strange name: Josko Gravner in a magazine (at the time we read things printed on paper!)
The article told of a guy who in the Gorizia’s province produced wines as was done in ancient times in Georgia: aging them in terracotta amphorae and without using any chemical artifice!
I laughed very very strong: the amphorae! What madness! What stupidity! We are returning to make the wines like the Phoenicians! At this rate we will push the grapes by feet!
Follows fifteen minutes of cusing.
Well, what do you want, I m Zombiwine:: I am a decomposed dead, I feed on the meat of the live (wine), in short, sometimes I also say stupid things.
Today natural wines are a reality \ sepa \ entity and in fact have formed a market segment in its own right, with its rules and its heroes and in the midst of all this, very good wines and incredibly bad wines.
But do you know what natural wine means?
Because this simple question has so many answers! And I heard them all a bit.
If we make a round on the net, the first thing that catches the eye is this:
Short list of chemicals and other amenities!
Understand, this is the difference if we only think about chemistry or interventions, but since this blog has the task of reasoning differently from the mass, I show you my point of view: hoping that the horde will share it.
Conscious that the following will cause me more than a fuck off:
For me, even before talking about the vineyard and wine, we need to talk about the most important thing: the winemaker.
Who is he?
The man who decides to take care of a vineyard to get a result; this is the winemaker and has the sacrosanct right to do it as he sees fit.
It is up to us then to decide whether to buy or not his wines or whether to accept that a winemaker can serve a multinational company that produces millions of bottles around the world or should be a grandfather who takes care of a handkerchief in the mountains of Piacenza: turn the wheel all the way from there, from the winemaker
This mythical figure shapes a plant that in fact is such only with the aid of man, given that, if taken and dropped, the grapes do not naturally turn into bottles of wine.
Wine exists because there is a man doing it!
The man prunes the vine, takes care of the harvest, presses the grapes, decides where to make it ferment, how to make it grow old, when to bottle etc …
So what is this natural wine?
Wine is wine.
You can choose to do it as you please, but wine is wine!
So we go to see those producers who make vintages jazz: without effects, without added chemistry, keeping the interventions in the cellar to a minimum or no, those are natural producers.
I know that for the whole world it is not so simple, and yet the ultimate goal should be the drinking experience not necessarily positive or negative, but understood as an experience.
A wine can be pleasant and as such sought by many people: drinkable wines that go with people who want to drink a glass and get rid of it if there are sulphites or not.
The world is full of self-styled professionals who swallow hyper-tannic and hyper-pumped red wines: wines whose vines are submerged in shit and which in the end are also made with grapes.
But then, I see many, there are also people who want to drink exciting wines: complex wines, wines that speak and these wines are never conventional, both for content of fetenze and for result.
Finally there are the jazz musicians, the archaeologists, the anthropologists, the botanists, or the zombiwine of the wine, those who always look for something personal and personal in the wine.
To these are addressed all those companies that, having chosen to make wine without condom (in the sense of condom), every harvest try to pull off a story, a land, a story.
People who are macerating! people who referment! men live in amphorae! beings who leave a wine thirty years before bottling it in the tanks! winemakers stomping with their feet! winemakers who make wines to drink and then if they drink them! What if you fuck the fucking ads and all the crap de sto world de shit.
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I will tell you only an anecdote
I took a Sunday 150 kilometers to go to Vitorchiano, a small village under Viterbo, to buy me twelve bottles of wine made by the cloistered nuns who put nothing in the vineyard and put nothing in the cellar.
They make wine like … As Christ times and I am wine is exciting and it excites me (deliberately wrong because it reinforces a concept). This wine has the defects of the wines of our great-great-grandmothers, but it is thanks to these flaws that it brings out smells and tastes that are not straw-yellow but have a dedicated life. When I drink it, in front of me, each bottle opens a plethora of infinite possibilities and I am moved to think that at that moment I am a small defenseless atom in the universe.
In the same way, however, the great Italian classic wines thrill me and many of the professionals laugh at me because Turriga or Sassicaia are fake wines for them. But then, take it, buy it and underline it, buy it, and pay it, and Christ, how much you pay, and you look at it, and then you think … and call your partner who blasphemes but hears the menu, and since he loves you so much, he cooks you the stew of being human, and you call friends, and uncork it. Fucking if you open it! And what a drink. That bottle of … choose you what (and then let me know!)
Well, I have the right to do it
to be myself, naked and with decomposed buttocks; and I take on the burden of drinking what from time to time I like more.
In the next articles maybe we will analyze some worthy natural companies, and maybe even some great pissing off drinking various wines.
For now I hope to have been of help … And if not, run away if I bite then I infected!