SommDom explores the world of intervention-light winemaking

Less is (not always) more

What exactly is ‘natural wine’? Isn’t all wine simply grape juice fermented by yeast? When I first encountered the natural wine movement more than a decade ago, it came as a shock. At best, the wines seemed faulty; at worst, revolting. Yet behind the murk and volatility lay a serious question: can making wine with fewer interventions actually produce something more authentic and expressive, or does ‘less’ simply become an excuse for bad winemaking? It’s taken me a while to make up my mind.

As with so many vinous terms, ‘vin nature’ was coined in France, denoting wine made plainly or without additives. Rendered into English as ‘natural wine’, it became something of a mistranslation, perhaps partly to blame for the sour shite foisted upon unsuspecting oenophiles.

What began as a scientifically grounded movement to make better wine using fewer processes and chemical additives was gradually adopted by a cult of back-to-nature zealots, claiming the philosophical high ground of authenticity in wines supposedly resembling those of biblical times.

God makes vinegar, man makes wine

It is often said that God makes vinegar, whereas people make wine. Human intervention is required to ensure that once sugars convert into alcohol, the wine does not continue oxidising into vinegar. Residues found in clay pots suggest wine originated in the South Caucasus around 8,000 years ago. No one truly knows what those wines tasted like, but even the ancient Romans – as noted by Pliny the Elder – used sulphur to prevent oxidation.

Over centuries, winemakers learned to control fermentation to ensure wines tasted good and remained stable. Adjusting sugar, alcohol, tannin and acidity, alongside processes to clarify, filter, flavour and even colour wine, became standard practice. Today, regulations permit hundreds of additives and interventions before wine reaches your mouth, many of them industrial chemical adulterations that need not appear on the label.

The Beaujolais rebellion

Following the organic farming movements of the 20th century, vignerons began reacting against pesticides and artificial additives. ROSA readers of my generation may remember peak Beaujolais Nouveau in 1989, when millions of bottles of purple, bubble-gum-flavoured wine étaient arrivées shortly after Bonfire Night.

It is therefore unsurprising that the natural wine movement traces its origins to Beaujolais winemakers in the 1970s. Inspired by scientific research showing that clean, high-quality fruit enabled fermentation with natural yeasts and reduced the need for sulphur, they aimed to produce wines more reflective of terroir.

Defining the undefinable

I admit I was unimpressed when first encountering natural wine, suspecting something had gone badly wrong as it tasted more like sour cider than wine. Yet, having a penchant for full-bodied whites, I persisted with orange wines and discovered some I liked very much. While I have not become a natural wine groupie, I have become less cynical and accept that not all so-called natural wines are faulty.

There is still no internationally agreed definition. In France, however, since 2020 the term ‘vin méthode nature’ has been officially recognised to denote wines made from hand-picked organic grapes, fermented with wild yeasts, without additives, and using minimal sulphites.

Organic roots in English soil

In England, growing grapes without frequent anti-mildew spraying is difficult if commercially viable yields are to be achieved. Nevertheless, several vineyards in Sussex and surrounding counties remain committed to organic farming. The first certified organic English vineyard, Seddlescombe, lies in East Sussex (see ROSA #16). I also previously wrote in ROSA #9 about Oxney Estate, part of a larger organic farming enterprise.

Another early adopter of organic wine production was Will Davenport, who first planted vines in 1991. His vineyards now span both sides of the Kent-Sussex border. Davenport in turn inspired Adrian Pike, a committed naturalista winemaker and part-owner of Westwell in Kent.

The orange renaissance

One of Pike’s most acclaimed wines is an orange wine made from Ortega grapes fermented on their skins using natural yeasts. Ortega performs well in England because it ripens early, producing fuller flavours and softer acidity. Skin fermentation is standard for red wine and essential for colour extraction, but with white grapes it has become strongly associated with natural wine. The style was revived 20-30 years ago in Slovenia and Georgia by producers seeking to emulate ancient wines. No oranges are harmed in the making of orange wine. Rather, grape skins impart colour and texture. It is a style I particularly enjoy, provided oxidation is restrained enough not to sour the flavour and mask any natural grape flavour.

Organic certification is highly regulated, requiring adherence to recognised standards such as those of the Soil Association. Claims of ‘natural wine’ status, however, remain loosely regulated, poorly enforced and lacking in transparency. Buyers should therefore beware less scrupulous bandwagon-jumpers marketing questionable ‘natural’ credentials.

Experimental terroir: the Tillingham effect

Returning to Sussex, after a stint at Gusbourne in Kent, Ben Walgate pioneered Tillingham in Peasmarsh on land owned by Terence Kearley, 3rd Viscount Devonport. While establishing their own vineyard, Tillingham initially bought in grapes. Walgate moved away from the conventional Champagne-style sparkling wines associated with Gusbourne towards small-batch experimental wines claiming biodynamic and low-intervention credentials.

When Tillingham opened its hotel in 2019 (see ROSA #19), Walgate’s calloused hands quickly established a reputation for intensely funky natural wines. It was certainly exciting to taste England’s first qvevri wine – made in the style of 6,000 BC Georgia – though these wines were not everyone’s cup of tea. When a friend once called me during dinner there, invoking my dial-a-sommelier service for a recommendation, my advice was simple: choose anything on the list other than Tillingham’s own.

Walgate left Tillingham in December 2022 to establish his own company (see ROSA #6), where he now produces more conventional wines alongside experimental cuvées. Adopting the négociant model of purchasing grapes from growers, his Rye warehouse – dubbed ‘The Winery’ – functions both as cellar and wine bar, offering food alongside an extensive wine list. When I visited last year, I enjoyed some excellent Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and sparkling wine.

The ancestral method: rise of the ‘Pet Nat’

England is best known for sparkling wines made using the ‘traditional method’, synonymous with Champagne, and can credibly claim to have invented aspects of the process in the 18th century, long before Dom Pérignon was born (see ROSA #5). Yet this remains an expensive method of production, particularly during times of austerity. Prosecco, by contrast, is cheaper in every sense when produced on a large scale (by which I mean more than 30,000 bottles – more than most English producers achieve).

There is, however, a third way: the lesser known ‘ancestral method’, originating in Limoux at least 250 years before Champagne. Here, grapes must naturally become sparkling from carbon dioxide generated during fermentation in-bottle, with no secondary fermentation, disgorgement or filtration required. Eliminating several production stages significantly reduces costs.

Natural wine enthusiasts embraced this simplicity under the label ‘Pet Nat’, shorthand for pétillant naturel or ‘naturally sparkling’. Consequently, Pet Nats now appear across the portfolios of many innovative British producers, including Davenport, Tillingham, Walgate and Westwell.

Adrian Pike, in particular, is deeply committed to the style and this May released a trio of Pet Nats from different grape varieties, all produced from the 2025 vintage using natural yeasts and no added sulphur. One wine, ‘Petulant Nature’, first appeared in 2020. Pike has since created a pink version incorporating grapes from the world’s smallest registered vineyard (which just so happens to be in our garden near Ringmer).

A safe start

Natural wine need not mean sour or faulty wine. The best examples show that restraint and minimal intervention can produce wines with genuine character and sense of place. Yet low intervention alone is no guarantee of quality, and too often ‘natural’ becomes a justification for instability or poor winemaking. Styles such as orange wine and pétillant naturel sit comfortably within the movement without requiring dogmatic adherence to it. For those wishing to explore natural wine in Sussex without undue risk, Plateau wine bar in Brighton remains a safe starting point.