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What Makes Natural Wine Exclusionary? The Name, Some Say Posted: 06 May 2021 04:00 AM PDT Megan Bell, winemaker at Margins Wine, is frustrated by the term "natural wine." While there's no official U.S. designation, it generally refers to wines made without chemicals, flavoring or coloring agents, as well as no added sugars or acids, fining or filtration. Many believe that natural wines should be made without additional sulfur or temperature-controlling agents like dry ice, though others make exceptions for those practices. Despite such porous parameters, Bell finds the term exclusionary. At events like RAW Wine Fair, participants must have used all organic or biodynamic agriculture, have less than 70 milligrams per liter (mg/L) sulfites, and can't use additives or sterile filtration. "I think these kinds of technicalities are a huge bummer for winemakers if it means that they are barred from getting to be part of certain wine fairs and having their wines sold at certain wine shops because they added some sulfites," says Bell. She uses the term "low intervention" to describe her winemaking practices. "It takes about 10 seconds to mix a tiny bit of KMBS [potassium metabisulfite] powder into water, which then becomes ‘sulfites,' which I add to my wines the week before bottling," she says. "So, all of the organic farming, hand harvesting, sulfite-free fermentation and elevage, and every single other task I’ve done over a six-plus month period to make the wine naturally up to that point is now moot because of something that took 10 seconds to do? I don’t think so." Lee Campbell, sommelier and ambassador for Early Mountain Vineyards in Virginia, also finds such strict attitudes problematic. Virginia has a long winemaking history, however it has never been easy. Because of the state’s cold weather, fungus, black rot and high levels of humidity, it’s difficult for winemakers to follow the strict approach to producing natural wine. Producers might have to use pesticides here and there in order to come out of a season with any grapes at all. But even using a non-organic pesticide one time disqualifies them from the natural wine conversation. "I'm not really interested in getting so caught up in dogma that I can't allow Virginia in, or winemakers of color who don't have the same resources or the same access [to the wine industry]," says Campbell. "'Oh, you carry this nice rosé, but because it's not organic? I'm not going to put it on my list.' That’s not where I’m at." Campbell says the wine community would benefit from fluidity around the natural wine movement. "I think there's space to say, 'I like where this person is going. I like where this person would like to go,'" he says. There are written references to natural wine as far back as 1731, but in the latter half of the 20th century, the term was used to describe a movement of ecologically minded winemakers. It helped them band together, take a stand against the use of chemicals and encourage others to convert to organic agriculture and minimal-intervention practices. Today, however, professionals like Campbell and Bell say the term can exclude winemakers who cannot commit to "zero-zero" standards, a term that signifies that nothing was added nor removed from wine on its voyage from the vineyard to the cellar. Not all winemakers can jump right into organic or biodynamic agriculture, use only wild yeast for fermentation and not add sulfur to stabilize their wines, they claim. Each region has its own climactic difficulties, and winemakers often buy grapes from individual growers. For those winemakers and others, a transition to minimal-intervention or "natural" winemaking is a process. Such barriers can do more to exclude them than to preserve the natural wine vision. "I think it's important that big, sweeping statements like, 'I only drink natural wine,' are examined more closely," says Susan E. Ulbrich, wine director at The Cheese Shop of Salem. "By only supporting something that has a trendy name can prevent one from enjoying a really fabulous wine from a dedicated winemaker who may not necessarily be a ‘natural' winemaker at the end of the day." Lauren Hayes, wine director at Cambridge-based Pammy's, appreciates what "natural wine" has done for sustainable practices and getting more people into wine. "I’m thrilled to live in a time where ‘natural’ has become an annoying word," she says. "Sure, I am frustrated with the dogma, I don’t think selected yeasts are the enemy, nor do I think it’s right to chastise a winemaker who fined a wine one vintage or performed a mildew treatment because they thought they had to. My job is to educate, to be honest and to buy good wine." The 69% of U.S. consumers who claim to be interested in paying more for sustainably made products might appreciate such honesty. And to swap a term like "natural wine" for "minimal intervention" could place the focus on processes and create a more inclusive marketplace for traditional and "natural" wines alike. "Natural has a preachy side, like any school of thought," says Hayes. "It doesn’t mean we should abandon it." |
All These Bartenders Are Saying Is Give Artisanal Hard Seltzer a Chance Posted: 06 May 2021 03:30 AM PDT Orlando McCray is a White Claw man. "Truly is trash," says the head bartender at Nightmoves, a sister bar to natural wine destination The Four Horsemen in Brooklyn, New York. "There are faux artisanal brands I have given a chance, but they're not good." In 2020, "when things got real dark," says McCray, the appeal of easy-drinking, no-thinking hard seltzers was even stronger for him and his hospitality comrades-in-arms. "What's funny is that I turned our wine director, Justin Chearno, onto hard seltzer as well, and as soon as I turned a natural wine person, I knew I was onto something," he says. Hard seltzer is one of the fastest-growing categories in the beverage industry. Three years ago, there were 10 brands on the market, according to Nielsen. By the middle of 2020, that number had risen to 65, as spirits brands, water companies, wineries and breweries entered the segment. Last summer, McCray started to make his own hard seltzer, dubbed Nightclaw. He's among a handful of bartenders who've started in-house hard seltzer programs. They appeal mostly to young, affluent drinkers and industry folks who don't mind paying a premium for a craft product with a twist of low-brow irony. Most commercial hard seltzers are a concoction of malt liquor, carbonated water, chemical flavoring agents, sugar and citric acid. On its own, the malt base tastes like "off-dry garbage, wet cardboard," says Jack Schramm, who has consulted on several hard seltzer projects after his role as head bartender at Existing Conditions vanished last year. "It's really unfortunate on its own." Upgrading the base is the most obvious place for bars to tinker, but the approaches diverge widely from there. À la minute seltzerAt Nightmoves, where the seltzer program is scheduled to resurface in the summer, McCray devised a 5% alcohol-by-volume (abv) neutral base with Wódka vodka, cane syrup from Martinique and citric acid. He sought flavorings that didn't taste too synthetic and landed on Apex Flavors' green apple, orange creamsicle, cranberry, guava and watermelon. Rather than can the seltzers, his team force-carbonates the drinks in two-liter bottles and serves them in chilled highball glasses with ice on the side.
"We wanted it to be absurd and have five or six flavors, all centered on a zero-flavor base," says McCray, who charged $8 a pop last year. "It didn't cost us anything to make. We did it to be cheeky, and at a lower price point [than other cocktails]. We turned quite a few people into hard seltzer drinkers." Cocktails, but make it hard seltzerWhen Will Wyatt, co-owner of Mr. Paradise in New York City's East Village, launched his in-house hard seltzer program, he planned to develop a neutral vodka base. But with help from Schramm and armed with Dave Arnold's book, Liquid Intelligence, Wyatt figured out how to create complex, esoteric hard seltzers. At its simplest, Wyatt's formula is ¾-ounce cordial, 1½ ounces spirits and 9¾ ounces water, force-carbonated in a similar manner to McCrady's seltzer. To ensure that the product is as shelf-stable, fresh and bubbly as possible, Wyatt applies a full arsenal of modernist bartending techniques to seltzers like his Cougar Magnum, a combination of Islay Scotch, gin, St-Germain, smoked grapefruit and popcorn butter.
For the Party Lobster, he clarifies watermelon juice with a pectin-breaking enzyme and a combination of gelatinizing and wine-fining agents, and then spins it in a centrifuge. He measures the juice's Brix with a refractometer and adds sugar until it reaches the sweetness of simple syrup. To mimic citrus juice, Wyatt adjusts the watermelon syrup with citric, tartaric and malic acids. To finish, he combines the resulting cordial with water, Campari, Tequila and mezcal. The mixture is then chilled to just above its freezing point and is carbonated three times at 60 psi, or pounds per square inch (the higher the psi, the more carbon dioxide is in the liquid). Wyatt gently agitates the bottles throughout the process to encourage carbon dioxide absorption. Carbonation also introduces carbonic acid, which enhances the perception of sour flavors. Wyatt fills 12-ounce cans to the brim, seals them with an Oktober seamer and slaps on a waterproof Avery shipping label. Over the holidays, those labels advertised the beverage as "Santa Claws," for which Wyatt hoped to at least receive a cease and desist letter from White Claw. The letter never came. Wyatt is a bit conflicted about calling the beverages hard seltzers. He prefers sparkling cocktails. "The goal of these isn't the same as other hard seltzers, which I think is like, 'I'm gonna get drunk without wasting too many calories,' " says Wyatt. "I hope I never have to know how many calories they have." Keg powerIn downtown Pittsburgh, Market Street Grocery houses a grocery store, café, wine bar, bottle shop and cocktail bar. Last year, during warm weather, there was a boozy lemonade stand out front that drew people out of their apartments and back to the neighborhood. "Everything that happened with Covid-19 hit our industry hard, especially downtown," says Cecil Usher, a bar industry veteran and one-half of Mindful Hospitality Group. "We wanted to create a product in Market Street Grocery to recaptivate peoples' attention and give them something to look forward to." Usher and his partner, Catherine Cannon, joined with Cody Baker, an event producer and marketer, to launch a line of hard seltzers. Their first iteration has a base of Grey Goose Citron, clarified and acid-adjusted lemon and lime juices, sweetener and water. To produce the volume they needed, Usher decided to carbonate the seltzer in a keg, a process far more finicky than a two-liter bottle. He scoured beer forums and reread techniques from bartenders like Arnold and Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Usher finally placed the keg in the freezer for an hour and carbonated the seltzer three times at 45 psi. He waited 20 minutes in between each round and gently shook the keg. "I cracked one open two weeks after canning, and I was shocked," says Baker. "It was still carbonated. It made that psssshhhht noise when I opened it." The $10 seltzer hits 7% abv, just above traditional seltzers and right below the new White Claw Surge. No one is balking at the price point, according to Cannon. Low-tech, premium ingredientsThe selling point for Yellow Door Taqueria's $11 hard seltzer is its two full ounces of Chinaco Blanco Tequila. "It's stronger than a hard seltzer," says Jarek Mountain, managing partner and lead bartender of the Boston restaurant. "We wanted it to feel like you are ordering a Tequila soda." Mountain takes a low-tech approach to his agave-centered seltzers. He infuses Tequila for three to five days with mango, passion fruit, cactus flower or berries, and strains the liquid through cheesecloth to remove as many solids as possible. To the Tequila, he adds a half ounce or so of pasteurized lime juice and a touch of agave syrup. He pours the mixture into a can and fills it to the top with cold Polar seltzer. Yellow Door works with Canned Cocktail Company, a micro mobile-canning service that stops by the restaurant to can and label the drinks. The seltzers sell out long before the ingredients have a chance to degrade. "In summertime, they're going to fly for us," says Mountain. "It's like, 'I'm going to a barbecue, let me buy six seltzers.' " Hard seltzer futureAs indoor bar service resumes in New York City, Wyatt plans to package one hard seltzer flavor a month for Mr. Paradise. "Our weekend nights are chaos," he says. "When guests are packed in here and the bartender is 30 tickets deep, the server can be like, 'I need a six-pack of cocktails.' " Wyatt plans to charge $13 for the drinks, $2 less than his other cocktails. Schramm says that in-house hard seltzer could occupy a similar menu niche as vodka soda, the perennial best-seller in most bars. But he cautions that housemade hard seltzer may not work in every bar.
"Ask who your guest is and what your goals are," he says. "There's lots of fun to be had in the space, but it might not be the most cost effective or best-selling drink, unless you meet a specific set of criteria." Schramm thinks only the most curated programs will stand up to market saturation. "Everyone is working on [ready-to-drink, canned cocktails]," he says. "Hard seltzer might lose its novelty. Maybe we'll see the era of the seltzer sommelier approaching. That's more likely than the advent of everyone having in-house hard seltzer. For McCray, though, hard seltzer is now just another menu category, one he enjoys drinking and can also produce in-house at a healthy margin. As with all the White Claw McCray enjoyed in 2020, he says, "I don't think about it too much." |
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