What is orange wine and why does it agitate so many people?
First, it isn’t made with oranges, though someone could. Rather, orange wine is a relatively new category of wine whose name is taken from the customary color of the wines, which can range from light amber through copper to deep orange.
Orange wines take on these colors because they are fermented with the skins of the grape varieties from which they derive. Those skins are from green grapes. If the grapes were black, the wines would be red.
Customarily, white wines aren’t fermented with the skins of their grapes, accounting for a span of colors that can range from could-be-mineral-water to deep, deep gold, the tones affected by variety of grape and time in oak barrel.
The category is new in name only. Orange wines represent a throwback to how wines were made 5000 or so years ago in and about the Republic of Georgia. There, grapes commonly were crushed, buried in sealed earthenware egg-shaped vessels called qvevri, and allowed to slowly ferment for weeks or months.
As grape growing and winemaking migrated west, that method gave way to cleaner and more refined techniques, the goal being more transparent, brighter, fresher, long-living wines.
That’s been the prevailing standard, aside from regions here and there where old winemaking traditions have endured, principally in central and eastern Europe.
A couple of decades ago, some winemakers around the world started to become disenchanted with modern techniques, feeling that they left wines too clean, stripping them of character. As a consequence, they began to experiment with less-intrusive methods, including the fermentation of white wines without removing grape skins from the juice. That impulse also is seen in a turn to organic, biodynamic and regenerative farming practices, and a scaling back of several winemaking methods, such as using wild or indigenous yeasts rather than cultured for fermentation, and eliminating the fining and filtering of wine.
I only occasionally taste orange wines, usually at a wine competition, or when a friend produces one found to be especially provocative. For the most part, I have found them intriguing for their wide range of expression, their departure from the norm, and the questions they raise about what wine is to be.
Orange wines generally are included in the even larger family of wines called “natural,” and for that, without getting into a discussion of what “natural wine” means, orange wines often are dismissed for their frequent cloudy appearance, challenging tannins, and offbeat aromas and flavors, sometimes simply disparaged as “funky.”
To broaden our perspective on orange wines, we recently joined a wine-tasting group whose theme for the day was “orange wine,” meaning each participant was to bring an orange wine to share, to discuss and to pair with a wide range of foods. Nine orange wines formed the lineup, and all were tasted openly.
As a group, the wines were nothing if not diverse, and threads of similarity were difficult to grasp. Yes, some were hazy, but some also were brilliant in their appearance. Colors ranged from faint yellow to deep amber. Textures ranged from viscous to silken. Mouthfeel ranged from soft to sharp. Grape varieties were all over the board, from Chardonnay to Rkatsiteli.
What they shared above all else was the force of their aromas. None was funky. The scent and flavor associations they suggested included apple, candied peach, a wide range of herbs, and an even wider range of citric fruits – grapefruit, lemon, line and – wait for it – orange.
As the day warmed up, so did the wines, and it gradually dawned on us that maybe orange wines shouldn’t be chilled much before they are served. As they warmed up their character changed in positive ways – aromas and flavors opened even more, tannins seemed to relax, the acidity of some became more refreshing. Next time, I’d start out with an orange wine no cooler than cellar temperature.
I came away with notes for five I would like to see again:
Montesecondo 2019 Tïn: Made from Trebbiano and a dash of Malvasia, the Tïn was one of the more complex wines of the day, its flavor running to candied peach and spicy lemonade with a few leaves of floating sage. It was sweetly fruity, vivacious and increasingly spicy as it warmed up. The wine spent six to eight months on its grape skins, no sulfur was added, and no fining or filtering was performed. Montesecondo is a brand of Silvo Messana in the Tuscan commune of San Casciano. “Tïn” is Arabic for the clay that is used to make amphora for the aging of wine, a nod to Messana’s childhood in Tunisia. ($38 at the midtown Sacramento wine shop Betty)
Vinoterra 2020 Kakheti Rkatsiteli: From the Republic of Georgia, the Rkatsiteli had a huskiness to match its deep amber color, yet was dry and lively on the palate, not at all weighty given its generous extraction. Its fruit suggested apple, and its lilting composure made it the best wine of the day for accompanying fatty slices of smoked pancetta. Kakheti is Georgia’s principal viticultural area. Rkatsiteli is an ancient grape variety recognized for its high acidity and its adaptability to a wide range of wine styles. ($18 at Total Wine)
Matthiasson Winery 2020 Napa Valley Matthiasson Vineyard Ribolla Gialla: Rich, vigorous, layered and spicy, this is one orange wine to seize the earthiness that helps explain the allure of the genre to many people. There is plenty of citric fruit packed into the wine’s breadth and depth, but it’s the suggestion of minerality that kept drawing me back for another taste. Ribolla Gialla is planted extensively in the Friuli region of northern Italy and in neighboring Slovenia, both areas with avid practitioners of orange wine. Indeed, cuttings that account for the small stand of Ribolla Gialla in Matthiasson Vineyard stem from budwood that originated on the Friuli estate of rebellious and progressive winemaker Josko Gravner, a pivotal player in introducing orange wine to a wider audience. Little Ribolla Gialla is cultivated in California, but it is starting to gain traction in the state’s vineyards. ($56 at Beyond the Fig in Rocklin)
Emme Wines 2021 Redwood Valley 62% Chardonnay/38% Colombard: The Emme stood out for its haziness and for its citric vitality, evoking visions of youngsters manning a block-party lemonade stand on the Fourth of July. The tannin reinforcement that fermentation on grape skins brings to a wine is on full display here, but tannins aren’t as bristling as they frequently are in Petite Sirah and Cabernet Sauvignon. The Emme also possessed the longest finish of the day. ($33 at Good News Wine in Sacramento)
Channing Daughters Winery 2021 Long Island Ramato Pinot Grigio: Not at all your typically light and shy Pinot Grigio, but a take dry and husky, with a fruitiness, body and warmth that suggests an old-time fruit buckle, all homey welcome. Little wonder that it was the first wine on the table to be emptied as guests helped themselves. It was the wine with the deepest and most brilliant amber color, the sunniest citric flavor, and the longest finish. The “Ramato” refers to the traditional Friulian practice of fermenting Pinot Grigio on its skins, in this instance 16 days. The wine then was aged in older French and Slovenian oak puncheons for four months, all of which add up to an exceptionally muscular yet fleet-footed take on the variety. ($20 at Corti Brothers in Sacramento)
Mike,
I try a ton of ViniMacerati (my preferred term, from Bobby Stuckey). Oftentimes, when they are young, they are not very pleasant to taste. Quite phenolic/resinous/austere. But almost invariably, with age, they develop into very interesting wines. Very complex.
VM are the darlings of natural winemakers because they feel the tannin content allows the use of no SO2. They are wrong. Often their VM are dreadful.
Tom