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Clelia Viecelli PHD Thesis

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Thesis: Viecelli, Clelia (2021) "Crafting Alternatives through Wine: An Ethnography of Female
Natural Winegrowers in Italy", University of Southampton, Faculty of Arts and Humanities, PhD
Thesis, 258pp.
University of Southampton

Faculty of Arts and Humanities

Humanities

Crafting Alternatives through Wine: An Ethnography of Female Natural


Winegrowers in Italy

by

Clelia Viecelli

ORCID ID 0000-0001-6646-3073

Thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

June 2021
University of Southampton
Abstract

Faculty of Arts and Humanities

Humanities

Thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Crafting Alternatives through Wine:


An Ethnography of Female Natural Winegrowers in Italy

by
Clelia Viecelli

This thesis examines the production and consumption of natural wines through an ethnographic
account of the work undertaken by female winegrowers in Italy. Drawing on ethnographic
materials collected in two Italian regions (Piedmont and Sicily) between 2017 and 2018, this study
investigates the multiple meanings and values attached to the production and consumption of
these wines. Produced through a minimal interventionist approach which is based on the
rejection of synthetic chemical substances in the vineyard and oenological additives in the cellar,
natural wines are a debated product category which polarises opinion and lacks a legally
recognised definition both at a national and European level due to their alternative sensorial
aesthetics. At the interface between traditional claims to terroir, new environmental sensitivities,
and consumers’ desires for ecologically and socially embedded food products, natural wines
represent a flourishing niche market supported by a transnational network of sales agents and
cultural intermediaries. Analysing how female natural winegrowers interact with nature and craft
their wines, I argue that these producers frame their work through a highly reflexive posture
which informs the ways they critically engage with their locality, approach the organic
certification, and challenge the existing normative frameworks of quality. By producing wines
through a careful sensorial engagement which preserves the non-human elements inhabiting
their vineyards and cellars, these women promote a relational understanding of terroir and taste
which emphasises the unfolding materiality of production and consumption. As relatively new
social actors in a field historically dominated by men, I argue that these women are powerful
agents of change who have successfully carved out their own space within a world which has
traditionally excluded them from leading positions and entrepreneurial roles. Through their
wines, they craft alternative ways of being in the world which re-shape the relationships between
tradition and techno-science, culture and nature, and local and global scales.
Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Table of Contents ........................................................................................................... i


Table of Figures ............................................................................................................ vii
Research Thesis: Declaration of Authorship ................................................................... ix
Acknowledgements ....................................................................................................... xi
Chapter 1 Introduction................................................................................................ 1

1.1 Natural wines in an ethnographic nutshell ............................................................... 1


1.2 Overview of the study ............................................................................................... 2
1.3 Research context....................................................................................................... 3

1.3.1 Women in the field ........................................................................................... 5

1.4 Rationale of the study and research questions ......................................................... 7


1.5 Structure of the thesis............................................................................................. 11

Chapter 2 Methodology .............................................................................................13

2.1 Introduction ............................................................................................................ 13


2.2 A preliminary reflection on the current popularity of ethnography ....................... 13
2.3 Multi-sited ethnography ......................................................................................... 14

2.3.1 Entering the field............................................................................................. 16


2.3.2 My field sites ................................................................................................... 17
2.3.3 The advantages of being mobile ..................................................................... 20
2.3.4 Conducting ‘anthropology at home’ ............................................................... 21
2.3.5 A further remark on my ethnographic fieldwork ............................................ 22

2.4 My research subjects .............................................................................................. 23

2.4.1 Female natural winegrowers .......................................................................... 23

2.4.1.1 Livia ...................................................................................................... 26


2.4.1.2 Isabella ................................................................................................. 28
2.4.1.3 Margherita............................................................................................ 30
2.4.1.4 Costanza ............................................................................................... 31
2.4.1.5 Claire .................................................................................................... 32
2.4.1.6 Virginia ................................................................................................. 33

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Table of Contents

2.4.2 Wine professionals .......................................................................................... 34

2.5 Methodological challenges ...................................................................................... 35

2.5.1 The researcher’s positionality .........................................................................37

2.6 Sensory ethnography .............................................................................................. 39

2.6.1 The ethnographer as a research instrument ................................................... 40


2.6.2 The use of interviews and its critique .............................................................. 41

2.7 Research ethics and data analysis ........................................................................... 42


2.8 Conclusions.............................................................................................................. 43

Chapter 3 Locating natural wines between contemporary appetites, food activism,


and global wine trends.............................................................................. 45

3.1 Introduction............................................................................................................. 45
3.2 Food anonymity and the emergence of artisanal foods.......................................... 46

3.2.1 Artisanal food values ....................................................................................... 47


3.2.2 The European food scandals and the process of food regulation ................... 49

3.3 The rise of food activism ......................................................................................... 50

3.3.1 The French debate on GMOs ........................................................................... 52


3.3.2 Slow Food ........................................................................................................54

3.4 Wine: a parallel story .............................................................................................. 58

3.4.1 Terroir and the development of the French AOC ............................................ 58


3.4.2 The French debate on the AOC system ........................................................... 59
3.4.3 The globalisation of wine................................................................................. 61

3.5 Natural wines .......................................................................................................... 64

3.5.1 A debated category without legal recognition ................................................ 66


3.5.2 The natural wine market ................................................................................. 69

3.6 The natural wine movement ................................................................................... 71

3.6.1 The French roots of the movement .................................................................71

3.6.1.1 Jules Chauvet and his legacy .................................................................72


3.6.1.2 Rudolph Steiner and the biodynamic method ......................................74

3.6.2 The development of the Italian natural wine movement ............................... 75

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Table of Contents

3.6.3 The associations of ViniVeri, VinNatur and Vi.Te ............................................ 76


3.6.4 The role played by Christine Cogez Marzani and Luigi Veronelli .................... 77
3.6.5 The recent success of the natural wine movement ........................................ 79

3.7 Conclusions ............................................................................................................. 80

Chapter 4 Natural wines from locality to global scale .................................................83

4.1 Introduction ............................................................................................................ 83


4.2 Reflexive terroir....................................................................................................... 84

4.2.1 Born with terroir: Livia .................................................................................... 87


4.2.2 A French heritage ............................................................................................ 90
4.2.3 Embodying terroir ........................................................................................... 94
4.2.4 Born without terroir: Costanza’s case study ................................................... 95

4.3 Navigating the organic certification landscape ....................................................... 97

4.3.1 Organic farming as a social movement ........................................................... 98


4.3.2 Organic farming in Italy ................................................................................. 100
4.3.3 The EU legislation on organic wine ............................................................... 102
4.3.4 Virginia .......................................................................................................... 104
4.3.5 Livia ............................................................................................................... 106

4.4 The natural wine network ..................................................................................... 108

4.4.1 The roots of the network and its main actors ............................................... 108
4.4.2 Natural wine fairs .......................................................................................... 111
4.4.3 The role of producers and distributors within the network.......................... 113
4.4.4 Wine estates as centres of attraction: Isabella’s case study ......................... 114
4.4.5 Living in a (local) bubble ................................................................................ 116

4.5 Conclusion ............................................................................................................. 119

Chapter 5 Going beyond nature and culture: natural winegrowing as a relational


practice.................................................................................................... 121

5.1 Introduction .......................................................................................................... 121


5.2 Dissecting terroir ................................................................................................... 122

5.2.1 Soil ................................................................................................................. 122


5.2.2 Vines .............................................................................................................. 124

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Table of Contents

5.2.3 Indigenous yeasts ..........................................................................................128

5.3 Encountering agency in the vineyard ....................................................................131

5.3.1 Pruning ..........................................................................................................131


5.3.2 On the field ....................................................................................................132
5.3.3 Viticulture in historical perspective ...............................................................135
5.3.4 Vines as relational plants ...............................................................................136

5.3.4.1 Affordances.........................................................................................138
5.3.4.2 Following the flow ..............................................................................138

5.3.5 Temporality and uncertainty .........................................................................140


5.3.6 Apprenticeship in the vineyard .....................................................................142

5.3.6.1 Learning to look skilfully .....................................................................143


5.3.6.2 Changing standards of vine beauty ....................................................145
5.3.6.3 Vineyards as emotional landscapes ....................................................148

5.4 Moving into the cellar ...........................................................................................149

5.4.1 Cellars as multi-sensorial places ....................................................................149


5.4.2 Winemaking as a flexible and intuitive practice ............................................153
5.4.3 The role of experimentation in natural winemaking .....................................155
5.4.4 Not a style but an individual taste .................................................................156
5.4.5 Science and technology in the cellar .............................................................158

5.5 Female winegrowers as new social actors in the field ..........................................159

5.5.1 Livia and Margherita case studies .................................................................160


5.5.2 New alternative gender roles ........................................................................162

5.6 Conclusions............................................................................................................163

Chapter 6 The alternative values and sensorial aesthetics of natural wines ..............165

6.1 Introduction...........................................................................................................165
6.2 Natural wines as “unfinished commodities” with multiple values ........................166

6.2.1 The narrative and evocative dimension of natural wines .............................172


6.2.2 Corporeal taste as a sign of quality ...............................................................174
6.2.3 Natural winegrowing as a lifestyle ................................................................178
6.2.4 The social reproduction of a natural taste ....................................................180

iv
Table of Contents

6.3 The relational aesthetics of natural wines ............................................................ 183

6.3.1 Valuing inconsistency and uncertainty ......................................................... 184


6.3.2 Conventional wine-tasting and haptic taste: two opposite perspectives ..... 187
6.3.3 The cultivation of a “taste for uncertainty” .................................................. 191
6.3.4 Natural wine consumption as an elitist practice? The New Nordic Cuisine
case-study ..................................................................................................... 192

6.4 Natural wines as contested and contesting products of terroir............................ 197

6.4.1 Italian natural wines and their contested typicity: different strategies ........ 197

6.4.1.1 Livia’s case-study ................................................................................ 198


6.4.1.2 Costanza’s case-study......................................................................... 200

6.4.2 Wines without DOC/G labels......................................................................... 202

6.5 Conclusions ........................................................................................................... 204

Chapter 7 Conclusion ............................................................................................... 207

7.1 Main research outcomes and contributions ......................................................... 208


7.2 Crafting alternatives through wine ....................................................................... 210

Appendix A Participant information sheet .................................................................. 213


Appendix B Consent form ........................................................................................... 215
Appendix C Further information about my fieldwork.................................................. 217
Appendix D Map of Livia’s network ............................................................................ 219
Appendix E Evaluation sheet for wine tasting - ONAV (Italian Organisation of Wine
Tasters) .................................................................................................... 221
List of References ....................................................................................................... 223

v
Table of Figures

Table of Figures

Figure 1 Map of Italy ................................................................................................................... 15

Figure 2 Italian Denominations of Origin region by region ......................................................... 19

Figure 3 Map of Piedmont .......................................................................................................... 28

Figure 4 Map of Sicily .................................................................................................................. 30

Figure 5 “Wine: fermented grape juice” ..................................................................................... 69

Figure 6 A road sign indicating the historical cellars of Canelli ................................................... 88

Figure 7 The Italian system of wine appellations ........................................................................ 91

Figure 8 The entrance to the RAW natural-wine fair in Central London .................................. 109

Figure 9 The frescoed interiors of Villa Favorita ....................................................................... 112

Figure 10 Old vine of Nerello Mascalese in Claire’s vineyard on Mount Etna .......................... 127

Figure 11 A pruned vine ............................................................................................................ 139

Figure 12 Isabella’s vineyard in spring ...................................................................................... 145

Figure 13 A picture on Isabella’s FB profile ............................................................................... 146

Figure 14 The handbook by Simonit in Margherita’s car .......................................................... 147

Figure 15 Virginia pumping Grignolino must over the skin cap ................................................ 152

Figure 16 A piece of local rock with a marine fossil .................................................................. 173

Figure 17 Claire’s palmento with one of the vats filled with harvested grapes ........................ 179

Figure 18 A magazine dedicated to natural wines in Isabella’s house ...................................... 182

Figure 19 A bottle of natural wine labelled as “denominated bandit” ..................................... 203

Figure 20 A bottle of Ivag .......................................................................................................... 204

vii
Research Thesis: Declaration of Authorship

Research Thesis: Declaration of Authorship

Print name: Clelia Viecelli

Title of thesis: Crafting Alternatives through Wine: An Ethnography of Female Natural Winegrowers in Italy

I declare that this thesis and the work presented in it are my own and has been generated by me
as the result of my own original research.

I confirm that:

1. This work was done wholly or mainly while in candidature for a research degree at this
University;
2. Where any part of this thesis has previously been submitted for a degree or any other
qualification at this University or any other institution, this has been clearly stated;
3. Where I have consulted the published work of others, this is always clearly attributed;
4. Where I have quoted from the work of others, the source is always given. With the exception
of such quotations, this thesis is entirely my own work;
5. I have acknowledged all main sources of help;
6. Where the thesis is based on work done by myself jointly with others, I have made clear
exactly what was done by others and what I have contributed myself;
7. Parts of this work have been published as:
Viecelli, C. (2021) ‘Local bubbles: Natural wines between globalization and locavorism’,
Ethnologie française, 51(3), pp. 589-599.

Signature: ............................................................... Date: 1st June 2021

ix
Acknowledgements

Acknowledgements

First of all, I want to thanks my two supervisors, Marion Demossier and Heidi Armbruster, for
their continuous support and encouragement since the very beginning of my PhD journey. I have
been extremely lucky to share and discuss with them my ideas, doubts, and excitement over
these years. Their invaluable feedback has been fundamental to sharp the argument of this thesis.
I am particularly indebted to Prof Marion Demossier, with whom I could share a common passion
for the anthropological study of wine.

Heartfelt thanks are due to my research participants and in particular the female winegrowers
who represent the main subjects of this study. They welcomed me warmly in their houses, offered
me a lot of fantastic wines and were always available to answer all my questions. Their passion for
their work has fuelled the writing of this thesis.

I could complete this thesis thanks to the support and love of many friends and colleagues who
shared the ups and downs of my PhD journey: the ones I met in Southampton, my old friends
from Milan, Siena, and London, and the new friends I made in Perugia (in particular Elisa, Paolo,
and Nicola). I feel particularly grateful to Frédéric Pelat, who helped me support my studies and
showed me the value of true friendship. I also want to acknowledge the help of Joseph Owen,
Zachary Nowak, and Shawnee Harkness in proofreading my thesis.

Without the endless love and support of all my family I could not have been able to conclude this
thesis. In particular, my sister who has never doubted that I would make it, and Pablo who has
expressed his love and care as only a father can do. My partner Manuel deserves my deepest
gratitude. His love, care, and positivity have nurtured me day by day for the last three years. I
cannot express how much lucky I feel to have him by my side.

And last, but certainly not least, I want to thank my mother. Her support, encouragement, and
unconditional love have always been part of my life. She is the most inspiring woman I know.
This thesis is dedicated to her.

xi
Chapter 1

Chapter 1 Introduction

1.1 Natural wines in an ethnographic nutshell

Taking advantage of being in Irpinia (the hilly interior of Campania region) to visit my boyfriend’s
family last year, I made an appointment to visit a local winery dedicated to the production of
natural wines. I had already come across those wines a few years earlier, during a natural wine
fair I had attended in Veneto region. Since then, the colourful labels of their bottles had appeared
from time to time at the tables of restaurants and wine bars I had been seated at, as well as in
natural wine lovers’ houses had been invited to. I remembered those wines were particularly
renowned to be extremely radical for the way they were produced (long macerations, no added
sulphites) and for the grape varieties they used, rigorously autochthonous, which could be
recognised by expert palates only. The last bottle I had myself tasted a few months earlier had
been a Fiano, a typical white variety which gives the name to the final wine. I could still remember
the haziness in the glass, the explosion of wild and summery smells of Mediterranean scrub, citrus
fruit and peach raising to the nose, and the refreshing acidity in the mouth. I was then happy and
curious to visit the place where that particular wine was produced, which by coincidence resulted
to be very close to my boyfriend’s native village. Surprisingly enough, no one from my boyfriend’s
family knew either the winery or the wines despite the fact the cellar was distant less than 20 km
from where they lived. When I briefly told the story of the winery to the family members,
including its economic success within the natural wine world with prices rising to more than 40€
per bottle at the restaurant, out of curiosity and a discrete amount of suspicion my boyfriend’s
father decided to join us for the visit to the cellar. We were welcomed by one of the owners in
front of a three-floor, white and blue house which I was told to be one of the buildings
constructed after the terrible earthquake of 1980, which devasted vast areas of Irpinia and caused
thousands of deaths. We followed the owner into her house and down to the cellar where she
had previously set out the glasses for the wine-tasting. While flipping the pages of a photo album,
she started telling us the story of the winery, which was founded by a group of six young friends
who wanted to produce for fun (“per gioco”) a wine similar to the one their own grandparents
used to drink every day. To do so, they started touring the surrounding area to find those small
plots of vineyards still worked in traditional ways by elder local farmers whose sons and daughters
had emigrated to the north of the country and were not then interested in inheriting the family
land. They paid particular attention to old vines of indigenous grape varieties, which were
traditionally used to produce local wine in the past. According to them, those old plants were not
only the source of high-quality wines but also represented a living repository of a whole range of

1
Chapter 1

practices, knowledge and skills connected to the land, a valuable part of the cultural heritage of
an area which was heavily damaged by the 1980 earthquake. While looking at the pictures the
owner was showing to us, I identified the organiser of the first natural wine fair held in Italy back
in 2002. It was she, the owner told me, who had first mentioned to them the existence of a group
of Italian and French winegrowers producing with their same ethos. As the owner recalled, “she
told us what we were producing were natural wines, we didn’t know before then, for us it was
just wine!”. This encounter allowed them to acquire a new identity as natural winemakers, and
get in contact with other Italian producers who were part of the emergent natural wine
movement. Around the same years, they managed to have one bottle of their Aglianico (a local
red wine) tasted by Luigi Veronelli, the most famous and influential wine journalist in Italy at that
time. His ecstatic appreciation of their wine laid the ground for their following economic success.
Nowadays, they export nearly 95% of their total production mainly to Japan, US, South Korea, and
Northern Europe. Every year, small groups of international distributors, importers, and reviewers
who promote their wines in their own countries come to visit the winery. Beside the wine-tasting
session held in their cellar and a tour of their vineyards, these professionals are also taken around
to discover the region as well as consume local food products at recommended farms and
restaurants. The owner told us, with an ill-disguised expression of pride on her face, this kind of
informal gastronomic tours had become so successful that now the most enthusiasts from Britain
would take same day flights from London just to have lunch again at the local restaurants they
had been to during those tours.

1.2 Overview of the study

I have chosen to introduce my thesis with the above ethnographic window as it captures the
various intersecting themes at the core of this study well and reveals the motivations that
prompted me to conduct ethnographic fieldwork amongst these wine producers. This research
project aims at investigating the production and consumption of natural wines through an
ethnographic account of the work undertaken by female winegrowers in two Italian regions,
Piedmont and Sicily. As emerges from the opening ethnographic vignette, this thesis is also about
the complex relationships between local and global scales, the revitalisation of traditional
agricultural knowledge and practices, and the formation of new rural identities and sensitivities.
The focus on female producers has provided me with an original entry point into the analysis of
these interconnected themes, highlighting the tensions nested into this field. By giving voice to
the experiences and ideas of these women who represent new powerful social actors and active
agents of change, this thesis examines how they carve out their own singularities and negotiate
the complexities of this wine world through a highly personal and original approach.

2
Chapter 1

My engagement with the natural wine world started by chance a few years ago while I was
working in a small restaurant in Milan, my hometown, after completing my Master degree in
Social Anthropology. The owner and chef of the restaurant was passionate about natural wines
and a friend of many producers whose wines were served at his restaurant. It was mostly through
his late-night lectures once the restaurant was shut down, and the baffled reactions of customers
tasting their first glass of natural wine that I became more and more interested in this fascinating
world. He was the person who introduced me to an interconnected world of artisanal
winegrowers producing radically different wines characterised by strange colours, peculiar smells,
and strong flavours. My first encounters with natural wines were indeed marked by a sense of
surprise and unexpectedness that made me pay particular attention to their unusual sensorial
qualities and know more about the stories behind their production. I was immediately fascinated
by the aura of contestation and innovation surrounding these wines and their producers, and it
was this curiosity which led me first to enrol into a training course for wine-tasters and then
investigate this world through an ethnographic lens. By living with my informants and following
their everyday working activities, I have come to understand the meanings and values attached to
the production and consumption of these wines and how, through the latter, these winegrowers
express themselves, their worldviews, and their attachment to the place where they live. This
thesis has developed around this ethnographic realisation.

1.3 Research context

Wine has become a global commodity embedded in an increasingly far-reaching and complex
market, and European wines are amongst the most sought-after objects of consumption.
Partaking in a long-standing history of symbolic and social prestige, wine plays a fundamental role
in shaping global imaginaries and local identities (Phillips, 2006; Smith, 2007; Kopczyńska, 2013).
Yet despite its global success, there have been concerns regarding wine-reproduction,
homogenisation and, more recently, its sustainability and healthiness. Indeed, in a global scenario
dominated by environmental discourses around climate change and its impact on viticulture, the
production of so-called natural wines seems to represent a challenging response that a growing
number of European winegrowers have adopted. However, the absence of an official definition of
natural wines within the national and European legislation does not permit to capture this reality
in quantitative terms (Servabo, 2013). Against this confusing scenario where natural wines do not
exist as a legally recognised product category, the work of these producers becomes open to

3
Chapter 1

contention.1 In this context, the role of female winegrowers seems to acquire even more original
connotations worth investigating, as they work within a historically male-dominated field of
production which has traditionally assigned marginal roles to women and has unacknowledged
their contributions (Bravo and Scaraffia, 1979; Martinotti, 1984; Pescarolo, 2001).

As a commodity, wine seems to have a social life of its own (Appadurai, 1986). Scholars have
approached the study of wine by being well aware of its participation in specific systems of
cultural representations (Ulin, 2002;2004). Consumers are attracted by what a wine bottle
contains not only in terms of pleasure and enjoyment but also, and more significantly, distinction
(Bourdieu, 1984). Terroir and vintage constitute respectively the geographical and temporal axes
in the coordinate system of wine distinctiveness, shaping unique wines that reflect the strong
association of a place with a taste (Trubek, 2008). The consumption of distinct wines thus seems
to imply the rejection of the perceived anonymity attached to mass-produced commodities
(Barham, 2003; Demossier, 2011). At the same time, legal systems of denominations such as the
French Appellation d’Origine Côntrolée (AOC) contribute to the establishment of hierarchies of
quality that reinforce the terroir ideology and political interests (Moran, 1993; Zhao, 2005;
Fourcade, 2012; Teil, 2012). Nevertheless, globally defined market demands for standardised
aromas and flavours, and modern technologies have been accused to jeopardize wine uniqueness
and inimitability (Benjamin, 1986; Soldati, 2006; Demossier, 2013). The natural wine movement,
developed in different European countries since the 1970s as a loose group of non-conformist
producers who strongly criticise industrial agriculture, represents a distinctive way of addressing
issues around quality, mass production, and sustainability. Despite the lack of a clear definition
and the absence of a legal category, common ground is provided by emphasis on craftmanship,
authenticity, and a general rejection of technology (Black, 2013). Often erroneously associated to
certified organic wines, with which they share a similar approach to viticulture, natural wines
retain specific processual, aesthetic, and cultural attributes that make them a category in itself.
Indeed, their being natural, besides sparking harsh debates over the meaning of the term, refers
to a series of practices and values that differentiate these wines from organic ones. Natural
winegrowing is associated to small-scale, artisanal production. These wines are produced
according to a low-intervention approach which combines the rejection of synthetic chemical
pesticides and fertilizers in the vineyard, with the use of indigenous yeasts and minimum (or zero)
technological manipulation in the cellar (Kaplonski, 2019). For these reasons, these wines are
presented as being a step further than organic wines in terms of naturalness. Nowadays, natural

1
To date, France is the only European country that has recently issued a natural wine certification. The vin
méthode nature has indeed been officially recognised by the National Institute for Origins and Quality
(INAO), the French Ministry for Agriculture and the French Fraud Control Office.

4
Chapter 1

wines represent a flourishing niche product category within the larger organic wine sector both
on national and international scale. Since I started being interested in this world a few years ago,
the number of dedicated fairs, events, and seminars both in Italy and abroad has mushroomed.
Reading an article on this topic published on the newspapers La Repubblica in January 2019, I
could count more than forty annual events in Italy exclusively devoted to the promotion of this
wine category (Ricci, 2019b).2

1.3.1 Women in the field

In a sector traditionally dominated by men, the presence of influential female producers within
the natural wine panorama constitutes an original object of anthropological analysis. The
historical trajectory of female occupation in the agricultural sector has undergone through
different transitions, but a common feature has been women’s subordinate role due to a
widespread patriarchal culture within peasant families (Bravo and Scaraffia, 1979; Barberis and
al., 2013; Bertolini, 2014). While the female presence in agriculture was already conspicuous
before the Second World War (Tirabassi, 1993), during the economic boom (1950s – 1970s) the
percentage of female rural workers increased due to the industrialization of the country and the
consequent migrations of male workers from the countryside to the cities and from the south to
the north of the peninsula (and abroad). Since the 1980s, women have started to assume
managerial roles within small and medium Italian farms, especially in the south were men left the
countryside in huge numbers (Bertolini, 2014). Nowadays, official statistics report a steady female
presence in the sector. According to a recent survey conducted by Coldiretti (the leading
agricultural trade union in Italy), in 2018, 28.6% of the Italian farms were conducted by women, a
quarter of whom were young female entrepreneurs under 35 years of age (Coldiretti, 2019). In
the same year, women were reported to manage 28% of the small-scale wineries in the country, a
higher percentage compared to industrial wineries conducted by women which were only 12% of
the total.3 While in medium and larger conventional wineries women generally occupy working
positions in accountancy, marketing, and communication, it is unusual to see them directly
involved into the production process which is still perceived as a male occupation (Gilbert and
Gilbert, 2019; Cinelli Colombini, 2021). Conversely, one of the most visible aspects of the Italian
natural wine movement is the presence of female producers who manage the activities
conducted both in the vineyard and in the cellar (Ricci, 2019a). The reasons behind this stark

2
In this thesis “winegrowing” will be used as a term encompassing the processes leading to the production
of wine. I will use “viticulture” to refer to the practices of grape growing, and “winemaking” to the various
activities conducted in the cellar. Natural producers usually identify as vignaioli (similar to the French
vignerons), which in this context can be translated as “small-scale winegrowers”.
3
The survey was published in an article on the Italian business newspaper Il Sole 24 Ore (Manuelli, 2019).

5
Chapter 1

contrast are partly due to the reduced size of the natural wine world and the role of pioneers that
a few women had for the development of the Italian natural wine movement.4 Statistics about the
number and roles of female natural winegrowers in Italy are practically non-existent due to the
lack of a legal recognition for this wine category. Still, there are common traits which allow to
draw an initial picture of the female presence in this world. They are generally highly educated,
with a university degree in Viticulture and Oenology which enables them to conduct and manage
their own wineries quite independently (Cinelli Colombini, 2021). They usually own the land
where they produce their wines, either as the last generation of traditional families of small
winegrowers or as newcomers who have invested in small-scale wine enterprises. This aspect of
land tenure represents an element of novelty considering the Italian legislation and cultural
norms on this matter, which has favoured an inheritance system from father to son.5 Finally,
these women craft their wines in distinctive and original ways, actively participate in debates
around natural winegrowing expressing their personal views, are highly mobile and exposed to
media attention.

To give an idea of the way these female producers are described by wine critics and journalists
interested in their work and approach to winemaking, I report what a natural wine distributor told
me in this regard: “What strikes about these female natural producers is that they are different
from the women of the industrial wine, the ones you can see portrayed in the photos of wine
magazines with high heels and painted nails, instead these female producers are farmers, they are
the ones who manage the winery and make wine” (interview 29/10/17). This statement reflects
the gendered organization of the conventional wine sector, where women tend to be assigned to
roles of communication, administration and marketing and excluded from the site of production.
At the same time, it shows how female natural winegrowers represent an outstanding exception
as they not only play managerial roles within their wineries, but are also physically involved in
every step of the production process. If in the past it was precisely physical strength that was used
to frame and justify the superiority of male members within peasant families (Papa, 1985; Palazzi,
1990; Pescarolo, 2001), nowadays these female producers express themselves and their personal
interpretation of terroir through their bodily engagement with the vines and wine without
framing their actions through explicit gender categories.

4
This explanation was also provided by the moderator of a wine-tasting event organized by the producer
Corrado Dottori at his estate in July 2018. The wines tasted for that occasion were produced by women only
and the moderator referred to the special role played by women within the Italian natural wine movement
compared to the industrial wine sector.
5
Italian women were legally excluded from inheritance until 1865 (when the Pisanelli Code established
equality between male and female heirs), but women were still subject to their husbands’ authority until
1975 when the new Italian family law abolished the role of the paterfamilias. However, women have kept
being excluded from inheriting the land by a widespread custom which privileges male heirs (Palazzi, 1990).

6
Chapter 1

For these reasons, I decided to investigate the natural wine world through an ethnographic
analysis of the work undertaken by a group of female producers. By focusing on these women and
their narratives, the thesis examines the ambiguities, tensions, and novelties of natural
winegrowing through a privileged lens. As new and influential social actors who push the
boundaries of past gendered configurations within a contested field of production such as natural
winegrowing, my informants are at the forefront of a series of historical, political, and aesthetic
transgressions investing this world of wine. Still, this thesis does not constitute an anthropological
work on gender and does not apply a feminist perspective to the themes analysed. Instead, I
frame the intersection between natural winegrowing and gender through a materialist approach
that focuses on the changing roles and agency of these women. Drawing on the existing literature
on women in agriculture and more specifically small family farms, I want to investigate how much
my informants’ case studies diverge from previous generations.6 What can we argue about
women working in traditional winegrowing families? What happens to those women who were
not born into winegrowing families? How do these women act in a male-dominated sector?
Instead of asking myself whether there was a special relation between women and nature or any
supposedly ‘female’ features attached to natural wine production, I entered the field with these
questions in mind. As Brandth and Haugen aptly observe, arguing that farm women’s bodies are
‘close to nature’ “raises problems of defining both women and nature as essential categories,
when in fact both of them are socially defined” (Brandth and Haugen, 2005: 91). I opted for this
materialist perspective as I was mainly interested in my informants’ disrupting roles within the
wine field. During my fieldwork, these women explicitly told me that gender did not connotate
their work, their identities as winegrowers, not even their wines. None of them were involved in
any wine professional association promoting the role of women in the sector. As one of them told
me, “I think that the producer’s personal character prevails over gender; I don’t define myself as a
female winegrower, I’m just a winegrower” (interview 06/09/17). Through an inductive approach,
I followed my informants’ narratives as they emerged during my fieldwork and I let them guide
my understanding of their engagement with natural wine production and consumption.

1.4 Rationale of the study and research questions

By focusing on the production and consumption of Italian natural wines through an ethnographic
account of the work of female winegrowers, my research project will provide the current
anthropological literature on wine with original insights. When I initially approached the study of

6
I did not focus on large-scale wine corporations as natural wine production in Italy is usually undertaken
by small-scale wineries.

7
Chapter 1

this category of wines, I soon realised that it had not yet been the object of extensive
anthropological investigations. A part from the chapter by anthropologist Rachel Black (2013)
included in the volume she co-edited with her colleague Robert Ulin, natural wines have only
recently attracted the attention of a group of researchers interested in non-conventional
winegrowing, alternative agro-ecologies and the environmental shift occurring in the wine sector
(Alonso González and Parga Dans, 2018; Heath, 2018; Pineau, 2019; Grandjean, 2021). This thesis
aims at contributing to this emergent field of wine anthropological research. In particular, four
main aspects connected to the production and consumption of these wines constitute the
rationale of my ethnographic study and will be developed throughout the thesis: the mutual and
complex relationships between nature and culture in natural winegrowing; the role of terroir in
my informants’ practices and discourses; and finally, the discussion on natural wines’ alternative
sensorial aesthetics. These aspects will be presented through the narratives of my female
informants, whose role as agents of change constitutes the fourth theme that will run throughout
my whole thesis.

The notion of “nature”, something that is central to the (debated) definition of these wines and is
presented as the main point of reference in the practices and discourses of those who craft them,
has not been investigated through a fine-grained ethnographic analysis of the work conducted by
these winegrowers both in vineyard and in the cellar. “Nature” and “culture” emerge more or less
explicitly as key concepts in the representation of natural wines by producers and other actors
involved in their promotion (wine critics, importers, distributors, retailers, etc.). The very process
of winemaking is usually depicted as an iconic instance of the intertwining of nature and culture,
and wine itself is conceived as a cultural artefact with a thousand-year history (Charters, 2006;
Black and Ulin, 2013). The current debate over the meaning of nature applied to winegrowing has
made this conceptual opposition re-emerge in new terms. On one hand, winegrowers stress the
rejection of synthetic substances in the vineyard and chemical additives in the cellar, highlighting
thus a more natural approach to wine production. On the other hand, their detractors claim that
there is not such a thing as “natural wine”. They argue that wine would naturally turn into vinegar
without human intervention (Black, 2013). Natural wines then seem to pose interesting questions
regarding the way we conceptualise nature, culture, and their mutual relationships at a time
marked by growing environmental concerns (Inglis, 2019). Drawing on an ecological and new
materialist perspective, this thesis aims at investigating the production of these wines and the
meanings attached to them by going beyond the classic nature-culture divide. My work indeed
sits within current debates contesting the opposition between nature and culture and its
articulation as a binary distinction, which have historically characterised anthropological thinking

8
Chapter 1

and in particular Lévi-Strauss’ structuralist approach.7 Nowadays, the debate around the
Anthropocene and the impact of human activities on the environment has forced anthropologists
to revise their theoretical frameworks and adopt new epistemological perspectives. Earlier works
by Descola (2013) and other scholars such as Viveiros De Castro (1998;2004) and Holbraad (2009)
on indigenous cosmologies have paved the way towards a thorough rejection of a Western
anthropocentrism granting human beings a status superior to other non-human species inhabiting
our planet. In the last decades, an increasing number of anthropologists have been focusing their
attention on fungi, trees, animals, microbes and their complex entanglements with human life
(Ingold, 2000; Haraway, 2008; Paxson, 2008; Kohn, 2013; Tsing, 2015). According to these
scholars, human sociality and culture are not ontologically disconnected from the web of human –
nonhuman relationships that make up biological life. These multispecies ethnographers are
studying “contact zones where lines separating nature from culture have broken down, where
encounters between Homo Sapiens and other beings generate mutual ecologies” (Kirksey and
Helmreich, 2010: 546). My ethnographic account on natural winegrowing is situated within this
literature as I framed the production of natural wine as the activity of different human –
nonhuman agentive beings in which human contribution is just one element among others.

Besides being natural, these winegrowers consider their wines as authentic products of terroir
and, as such, antithetical to conventional and industrial ones. Terroir represents a fundamental
category of meaning which crucially shapes their lives, values and everyday actions. As an
anthropologist working on wine, I have dealt with a vast literature focusing on terroir through
various disciplinary angles: historical, philosophical, geographical and, of course, anthropological.
The common approach of most of this scholarship, especially from the anthropological side, has
been a deconstructive analysis of the French concept of terroir. The valuable works by
anthropologists such as Demossier (2011;2018), Ulin (1996;2007;2013), and Trubek (2008) have
highlighted the socially and historically constructed nature of this complex concept and have
provided insightful analyses on its use by different social actors both at national and international
scale. Power relations, logics of distinction, strategic appropriations, and mythical narrations are
all issues that emerge within the literature on terroir, not only in the study of wine but also in
food studies. Still, the way terroir is lived and interpreted as an ontologically relevant category by
natural winegrowers forces the researcher to adopt new analytical perspectives (Teil, 2012). This
is even more evident as natural wines do not conform to the normative standards of quality

7
The French anthropologist defined nature and culture as “two mutually exclusive orders” (Lévi-Strauss,
1969: 8) within a theoretical paradigm constructed through chains of oppositions (e.g., raw – cooked; wild –
domestic; female – male).

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Chapter 1

defined by national system of appellations such as the French AOC, which were founded precisely
on the terroir ideology (Moran, 1993; Fourcade, 2012). As contested and contesting products of
terroir which claim their authenticity and subvert existing hierarchies of values, natural wines
invite to new reflections on the role and meaning of terroir in the work and lives of these
winegrowers.

Finally, the alternative sensorial aesthetics of natural wines resulting from the practices, choices
and ethos adopted by their producers both in the vineyard and the cellar, prompts a
reconsideration on the processes through which taste and quality are constructed, assessed, and
hierarchised. The sensorial engagement which characterises the way natural winegrowers craft
their own products and shape alternative frameworks to judge their quality seems to escape
established mechanisms of value attribution to wine. Going beyond a Bourdieusian reading of
taste as a reflection of socially determined dispositions and drawing instead on a pragmatist
approach, I argue that the analysis of natural wines’ sensorial aesthetics sheds new light on the
material ecologies of production and consumption as well as the formation of alternative
normative frameworks which challenge existing regulatory regimes.

Female natural winegrowers act as relatively new social actors in a sector which has been (and still
is) a male-dominated field of production. Considering these women’s higher education, technical
training, land ownership and international success, makes them an original research subject and
constitutes a unique angle through which to investigate natural wine production. While these
producers have attracted the attention of film directors and wine critics (Graglia, 2011; Nossiter,
2014; Gasnier, 2016) as they adopt a highly personal perspective on their production, they have
not yet been the object of thorough ethnographic analyses. In fact, the existing anthropological
literature on the gendering of wine has so far focused on female workers’ conditions within a
familial mode of production (Lem, 1999; 2013), but has neglected their role as agents of change.
This thesis will contribute to filling this gap in the literature by choosing to give them voice as key
informants in my research. As Weidman argues, voice is “a site where shared discourses and
values, affect, and aesthetics are made manifest in and contested through embodied practice”
(2014: 38). It is through an analysis of their embodied practices with wine that I will show how
they break with conventional discourses and practices on terroir and nature, carve their own
individualities and contest regulatory regimes of taste.

The questions that guided me throughout my research helped me frame my argument, and this
thesis will address them by developing the key themes I raised above. I approached the study of
natural wines as I was fascinated by their contested and contesting status, and the stories they
were imbued with. These two aspects formed the basis for the questions I asked myself when I

10
Chapter 1

embarked upon my ethnographic fieldwork: why are natural wines framed as radically alternative
to conventional wines? How do natural winegrowers construct their relationship with nature
through the production of their wines, and what is the role of terroir in the practices and
narratives of these producers? In which terms female natural winegrowers represent new social
actors in the field? And finally, what can the sensorial aesthetics of natural wines tell us about
established politics of taste and hierarchies of wine values?

1.5 Structure of the thesis

This thesis consists of six main chapters and it is structured in the following way:

• Chapter 2 presents the methodology I used to conduct my study and a description of my


research participants. Here I outline the steps undertaken to conduct my ethnographic
fieldwork and the challenges which emerged during the time spent on the field.
Ethnography has allowed me to investigate the motivations and practices of my
informants as well as understand the meanings and values attached to their work and
lives as natural winegrowers.
• Chapter 3 provides an overview of the wider socio-cultural context of my research and
introduces natural wines as a contesting and contested product category. By looking at
the recent trends in artisanal food production and consumption, and the role of terroir in
promoting and adding value to local food products, I will show how natural wines
intersect modern food anxieties and consumers’ desires of ecologically and socially
embedded food products.
• Chapter 4 is the first of the three main ethnographic chapters of the thesis. Here I analyse
the relevance of terroir in the work of my various informants despite their different
attachments to the place where they produce their wines. I also show their diversified
engagements with the European organic certification and the global connections they
have as a social network of producers. Through this multi-scalar perspective from the
local to the global, I highlight the reflexive approach characterising the work of these
producers at different levels.
• Chapter 5 deals with the work undertaken by my informants both in the vineyard and in
the cellar. During my ethnographic fieldwork I followed the working activities of my
research subjects during the harvesting and pruning seasons. Drawing on the materials
collected, I explore how natural winegrowers engage with the living materialities of wine
by attuning their practices to the agency of the vines, yeasts, and fermenting must. I also
expand on the current role of female winegrowers within this field of practice through a
diachronic perspective.

11
Chapter 1

• Chapter 6 focuses on the multiple and alternatives values attached to the production and
consumption of natural wines by looking at the ways my informants construct and
promote an alternative normative framework of quality to assess their own wines. In
parallel to a relational understanding of terroir, wine-tasting and consumption are framed
as a reflexive and unfolding activity which is open to the emergent material qualities of
wine and dismisses pre-set, analytical evaluation criteria.
• The concluding chapter summarises the main points raised throughout the thesis,
highlights the original contribution of my work, and reconsiders the title of this thesis in
light of what I have argued in the previous chapters.

12
Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Methodology

“The task of the ethnographer is to contextualize insight of local values and practices within wider
local significations, and to render them probable; to show how theirs is a meaningful alternative
as a way of life”

(Howell, 2018: para. 3; emphasis mine)

2.1 Introduction

This thesis is an anthropological account of the production and consumption of natural wines in
Italy through a focus on female winegrowers based in two regions (Piedmont and Sicily). As such,
the main research method I drew on was ethnography. I conducted multi-sited fieldwork for short
and repeated periods of time between 2017 and 2018. As the topic of my research deals with the
production of wine, my fieldwork focused mainly on the two most important activities carried out
in the year, namely harvest and pruning. Each of these moments represents an intensive period of
work riddled with risks, physical hardship, concentration and foresight. I spent weeks with my
informants, working with them both in the vineyard and in the cellar according to the period of
the year. I stayed at their place at least a week each time, resulting in a series of different
ethnographic observations that I will examine further in the next chapters.

In this chapter, I will illustrate my research methodology highlighting the main challenges I had to
face while conducting my ethnographic fieldwork. I will first show how I entered the field, then I
will introduce my field sites and my research participants and consider some methodological
implications of my approach. In the second part of the chapter, I will focus on sensory
ethnography and I will demonstrate its relevance to my research project by providing some
examples from my fieldwork. Finally, I will conclude with some remarks on research ethics and
data analysis.

2.2 A preliminary reflection on the current popularity of ethnography

Generally speaking, ethnography is considered as the methodological backbone of anthropology:


without ethnography, anthropology’s theoretical significance weakens and it becomes an
epistemologically fragile discipline (Howell, 2018). Recently, Ingold (2014) has challenged this
common perspective by criticizing the way the term “ethnography” has been overused by
anthropologists and other social scientists alike. As a PhD student based within a Modern
Languages department (then not Anthropology or Social Sciences), I have witnessed myself an

13
Chapter 2

increasing popularity of ethnography as a research method applied to a wide range of different


studies. Indeed, an increasing number of students and researchers working in Linguistics,
Education, Medicine, and Biology (among others) mention “ethnography” and “fieldwork” among
the methods deployed in their research projects. Most of the time ethnography is vaguely
understood as part of a broader set labelled as “qualitative research methods”, where open-
ended interviews, focus-groups and biographies seem to combine to form more human-oriented
research practices (Howell, 2017; Shah, 2017). When asked about the length of their fieldwork (or
more commonly defined “data collection”), students of my department generally answer that a
few interviews, sometimes repeated over a short period of time is more than enough. When
other PhD students at my department knew that I would conduct fieldwork ideally over a year,
they were quite surprised. What they could not really understand was the methodological
necessity of spending such a prolonged period of time in the field.

It is not my intention here to try to find an explanation to the current popularity of ethnography
in academic disciplines other than anthropology (Van Maanen, 2011; Demossier, Bernasek and
Armbruster, 2019). Rather, these examples forced me to re-think the strengths of ethnography
and its peculiar characteristics as a research method, which differentiate it from other
methodologies equally valid but based on different epistemological premises. I embarked upon
fieldwork with these considerations in my head. In what follows, I will describe my experiences as
an anthropologist conducting multi-sited fieldwork, highlighting the main methodological
challenges I faced during the time spent with my research participants.

2.3 Multi-sited ethnography

My ethnographic account of the production and consumption of natural wines in Italy is


articulated through multiple mappings covering different sites both in Italy, my own country, and
abroad (London). To do so, I had to be mobile and conduct multi-sited ethnography (Marcus,
1995). I mainly directed my ethnographic gaze on two distinct Italian regions where my
informants work as winegrowers, namely the countryside of Piedmont and Sicily. I came to
choose these two particular regions due to a combination of different factors, where serendipity
played a major role. As I will explain more in depth below, during the initial stages of my research
I tried to get in contact with female natural winegrowers with different backgrounds and
biographies (women belonging to small-scale farming families; first-generation winegrowers; and
newcomers). Instead of first selecting specific geographical locations and then possible producers
to study, I gave priority to finding this diverse group of female informants. The first two producers
I enrolled in my study were based in Piedmont, the most renown Italian region for wine
production (together with Tuscany). Through one of them, I got in contact with three other

14
Chapter 2

producers, one working in Piedmont and two in Sicily. One of these producers based in Sicily is
also quite famous within the natural wine world and for this reason I had previously planned to
include her in my research. By the end of this selection process, I made connections with four
female winegrowers based in Piedmont and two in Sicily (see map below). In logistical terms,
having to travel between these two regions during the harvesting and pruning seasons was
feasible as the timescales for these activities did not completely overlap in the two locales due to
their different climatic conditions. At the same time, having all my informants split into two areas
was more manageable (and financially sustainable) than being forced to move around multiple
locations across the country. For these reasons, I limited my geographical focus to these two
regions.

Figure 1 Map of Italy (Mapswire, 2021) [modified by author]

Besides conducting multi-sited fieldwork in these two regions, I followed my research subjects to
different wine fairs where they participated in promoting their wines. In fact, I did not only follow
those people and their wines, but also their ideas as I discussed natural winegrowing with
sommeliers, wine merchants, chefs, and other experts who know my informants, their wines and
their approach to winemaking well.

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Chapter 2

2.3.1 Entering the field

In this section, I will explain how I built up my social network of producers and wine professionals
at the very beginning of my research. As noted before, my initial relationship with the world of
natural wines started off when I was still based in Milan, the most cosmopolitan and international
city in Italy. The same natural wine world (especially if we look at the consumption side) is nested
within these cosmopolitan urban hubs such as London, New York, Copenhagen, Tokyo, where
middle-class consumers meet in fancy restaurants, fairs, hipster bars, as well as at cultural and
promotional events dedicated to these wines (Smith Maguire, 2019). Even though Milan has not
been historically the most important venue for the promotion of natural wines on a national
scale, it was here where I first encountered these wines while working as a waitress in a local
restaurant. The owner and chef of this small restaurant is a Sicilian man with a passion for natural
wines. After decades of conventional wine consumption, which led him to a certificate as a
professional wine-taster, he became critical of mainstream wine production and started looking
for less interventionist approaches to winemaking. Now, his restaurant mainly serves natural
wines coming from different countries (mostly Italy, France, and Spain) to a middle-class clientele,
and it is one of the city’s venues for events devoted to the promotion of these wines and the
philosophy behind them. He is both the person in charge of the wine cellar and the one who
maintains regular contact with natural wine distributors, sales representatives as well as the
winegrowers. When I decided to conduct an anthropological study on natural wine, he was more
than happy to be my gatekeeper.

Evoking now this preliminary stage of my research, especially in light of the fieldwork which
ensued, makes me reflect even more about the open-ended nature of ethnographic research.
Recalling the role of serendipity I mentioned above, I agree with anthropologist Ulf Hannerz when
he argues that “it is important to cultivate a certain willingness to seize unforeseen opportunities,
a general sensibility towards ways of making anthropology out of realities which might otherwise
remain mere distractions” (Hannerz, 2006: 31-32). Although I had developed a few research
questions supporting and articulating the rationale of my PhD project, I started my fieldwork with
a vague idea of what I was going to find out once in the field. My two supervisors, in turn,
corroborated this personal feeling by highlighting the serendipitous nature of fieldwork. I still
remember when, during a supervisory meeting, they warned me about the crucial importance of
those days when nothing seems really worth taking notes of, which instead prove to be somehow
illuminating retrospectively. Howell clarifies that the same word “serendipity” includes an
element of wisdom in its definition, meaning that the anthropologist must be ready and receptive
all the time (Howell, 2017: 17). Luckily enough, my fieldwork was blessed by this magical power

16
Chapter 2

that enabled me to re-direct my ethnographic gaze to unforeseen directions. In particular, as I will


better explain later, part of the argument of my thesis dealing with the significance of my
informants’ worldviews, opened up when I inadvertently started focusing on the aesthetic values
of these wines.

Through my gatekeeper and his acquaintances within the natural wine world, I started building
my own network of natural winegrowers, distributors, critics, and amateurs. Through him, I was
initially able to meet with two female winegrowers who were based not far away from Milan (one
working in Piedmont who then became an informant of mine, one in Emilia-Romagna). At that
preliminary stage, I had not yet decided to focus on female producers only but I suppose that
being a woman myself somehow influenced my gatekeeper’s choices. Through snowball sampling,
the producer based in Emilia-Romagna put me in contact with a female producer and close friend
of hers, who would then become one of my main informant (Livia). Through her, I managed to
include three more producers to my group of informants (Claire, Margherita and Isabella). As a
result, my network of natural winegrowers was constituted mostly by women. It was during this
selection phase that I realised the possibility to frame my research on natural wine through a
specific focus on the work undertaken by these women. As I argue below, if my positionality
initially influenced this methodological trajectory, the rationale of my study was nevertheless
justified as these women represent new social actors in the field, who have not been the subject
of extensive research.

While expanding this fast-growing network of producers, and mostly thanks to it, I was also able
to meet other professionals working in the natural wine sector as critics, sommeliers, writers, and
wine fair organisers. At some point of my fieldwork, I came to realise that the majority of my
informants were acquainted with each other in a more or less close way, resulting in a
constellation of interrelated groups of people. The way my social network expanded quickly over
a relatively short span of time (less than two years) already says something about the dimensions
of, and the level of interconnectedness existing within, the Italian natural wine world.

2.3.2 My field sites

Piedmont and Sicily are the two sites where I spent most of my fieldwork. The production of wine
is deeply rooted into the history of both regions and its cultural significance has recently found a
further recognition through the inscriptions into the UNESCO World Heritage List. In 2014,
Piedmont’s vineyards of Langhe-Roero and Monferrato have been recognised as UNESCO
“cultural landscapes” as they “provide outstanding living testimony to winegrowing and
winemaking traditions that stem from a long history” (UNESCO, 2014). In the same year, the

17
Chapter 2

traditional practice of cultivating the vite ad alberello (head-trained bush vines) of the Sicilian
island of Pantelleria was declared UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.2 These
inscriptions reflect current processes of heritagization investing European rural localities (Ray,
1998; Gade, 2004), but also a long-standing tradition in wine production that, as I will show, my
informants acknowledge and promote in ways which do not align with UNESCO processes and
state practices of geographical designation (through the DOC/G system).

Piedmont is located in the far north-western corner of the country and encircled by the Western
Alps to the north and west, creating a natural border with France. The Tyrrhenian Sea is accessible
going southwards through Liguria region less than 50 km away. Together with Tuscany, Piedmont
is internationally renowned for the production of high-quality wines. Wine is produced in many
different areas throughout the region, with a prevalence of red over white wines. Barolo and
Barbaresco, both produced from the Nebbiolo grape variety, are the two crown jewels of the
region, highly appreciated for their extraordinary longevity and complexity. As shown in Figure 2
below, Piedmont is the Italian region with the highest number of DOCs and DOCGs (58
denominations in total, followed by Tuscany with 52).3

2
Alberello is a traditional trellis system. The plant is not supported by any wires and it develops as a short
bush.
3
DOC and DOCG stand for Denominazione di Origine Controllata and Denominazione di Origine Controllata
e Garantita, respectively. They represent the national indications of geographical origin for wine.

18
Chapter 2

Figure 2 Italian Denominations of Origin region by region (Infodata, 2015)

As I will explain in chapter 4, this leading position reflects the historical and political prestige of a
region which had strong political and cultural ties with France and possesses a long tradition of
small-scale, family-run wineries. In fact, to give an idea of what viticulture looks like in Piedmont,
wine experts and scholars often draw a comparison with Burgundy in France: the two regions are
indeed characterised by a geography composed by a myriad of small plots owned by small
winegrowers, and a long-standing tradition in artisanal, small-scale viticulture where the land is
mostly inherited through generations (Matasar, 2006; Lyons, 2015). An orientation towards
artisanal, natural winemaking has somehow always been present here, where the winegrowing
areas are mostly divided into rather small land plots belonging to single small owners or families
of winegrowers (Servabo, 2013). It is no coincidence that the first Italian association of natural
winegrowers (ViniVeri) counts, amongst its founding members, a few small-scale producers based
in Piedmont who were critical of mass production and modernist winemaking techniques.

In this regard, Sicily does not compare to Piedmont and its image of fine wine region is quite
recent. Located at the extreme southern edge of the country, Sicily is one of the two major Italian

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islands. Here the history of viticulture and winemaking is thousands of years old, when the region
was still a Greek colony known as Magna Graecia, “Greater Greece” (Buttitta, 1977). Still
characterised in some areas by traditional systems of training such as alberello, viticulture in Sicily
is widespread across the whole region, from Mount Etna down to the island of Pantelleria. White
and red wines, produced in similar quantities, are mainly obtained through indigenous grape
varieties such as Grillo, Catarratto and Nero d’Avola. Compared to Piedmont, Sicily can claim just
one DOCG (Cerasuolo di Vittoria, which was created in 2005) and 23 DOCs. This is indicative of the
two regions’ different historical trajectories and, more generally, a long-standing political and
economic divide between the north and the south of the country. Until the 1980s, the bulk of
Sicilian wine production would travel across the country to be assembled with wines produced in
the north. Sicily was, together with Puglia region, the major supplier of national bulk wines due to
their higher sugar concentrations, which translated into increased alcohol volumes. Land
ownership in Sicily was historically the expression and, more importantly, source of income of few
local notables and aristocrats. Viticulture and winemaking had been long rooted into this system
of latifundism until the Second World War. Until very recently, the good reputation of Sicilian
wines has been tightly associated to the names of few large owners and entrepreneurs who
invested their wealth into the production of high-quality wines. Nowadays, the whole region is
witnessing a major renaissance in the production and exportation of local fine wines thanks to a
new generation of trained winegrowers and a renovated interest in the region’s potential (Atkin,
2011b; Napjus, 2014).

2.3.3 The advantages of being mobile

Being able to move around different sites across these two regions gave me the possibility to
acknowledge both similarities and differences in the way natural winegrowing was carried out by
my research participants, as well as the impact it has at a local level. Multi-sited ethnography in
this sense allows the researcher to apply a comparative lens to the anthropological analysis.
During my fieldwork, my ethnographic gaze was mainly focused on these wine producers’ lives,
practices, and ideas, and being mobile allowed me to better follow these stories. I spent most of
my time with my informants working at their wineries in these two regions, and I followed them
in few occasions when they travelled to dedicated fairs and events both in Italy and the UK
(London).6 As I could not join them in all their numerous annual journeys abroad, I had to take
advantage of the time I spent with them at their own wineries in the two key moments of
harvesting and pruning. Moreover, I interviewed various professionals involved in the promotion,

6
See Appendix C for more information.

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communication, and trade of these wines. The materials collected added a more critical
perspective to my understanding of the natural wine world.

Thanks to the multi-sited nature of my fieldwork, I came to acknowledge the mutual influence of
local and global forces within the natural wine world as it emerged through the actions (and
words) of my informants. In fact, I moved around different sites where these local and global
levels were constantly intermingling as my informants worked in specific spatial locations, being
at the same time embedded in wider networks of people, places and cosmologies. They travelled
around the world with their wines, telling stories about their work and their products which were
simultaneously followed by hundreds of people through the social media. In this sense, I can say
that following my informants (both off-line and on-line) has proven to be an important way of
learning. The multi-sited dimension of my fieldwork allowed me to collect short meaningful
observations of my informants’ lives, resulting in a series of ethnographic windows which are
open to modernity and its complexity. This mobile character of my research, which in part reflects
the global mobility of my informants and their wines, has enabled me to get a better picture of
these producers and the social circuits they attended.

However, that does not mean this aspect of my fieldwork ruled out the significance of those
ethnographic moments spent in more conventional bounded field sites. As I said in the
introduction of this chapter, my understanding of natural winegrowing mainly emerged through
observing and actively participating in a wide range of activities with my informants. In this sense,
I found useful Candea’s (2007) notion of “arbitrary location”, which redeems the value of the
traditional bounded site by redefining it as an explicitly partial and limited perspective into the
complexity of our modernity. In my ethnography, the vineyards and cellars of these winemakers
represent specific locations where modernity and its complexity can be detected, as the island of
Corsica becomes for Candea a methodological tool to enquire into wider social configurations. It
was during those moments spent with my informants that I managed to share as much as I could
in terms of informal chats, practical activities, exchange of opinions, laughter and even silences.
That included also some unwanted yet unavoidable intrusions into their intimate domestic lives,
witnessing personal as well as familiar crises and joys altogether. I tried to record all these
moments, what Malinowski (1922) defined “imponderabilia of actual life”, as accurately as any
other ethnographic data.

2.3.4 Conducting ‘anthropology at home’

I conducted my ethnographic fieldwork in my own country, where I grew up and have spent so far
most of my life. In anthropology that would represent an instance of what has been termed

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‘anthropology at home’ (Jackson, 1987; Peirano, 1998). At the beginning of my research, I took
into account this methodological caveat concerning my fieldwork and questioned how this would
influence the development and the same content of my own ethnography. Soon enough though, I
realised (with some relief) how many factors made me feel a proper outsider in the field.
Considering my own position there, a young female researcher raised and educated in an urban
context with no background in rural work, I had enough attributes to be perceived as an external
presence by my informants. When I was involved in the practical operations undertaken both in
the vineyard and in the cellar, I was treated as a novice who needed to be taught from the basics.
This specific working environment, action-oriented but also knowledge-based, counterbalanced
the methodological rule “making the familiar strange”, which is supposed to inform the conduct
of anthropologists working ‘at home’ (Van Maanen, 1995; Myers, 2011).

For these reasons I would consider my research an example of ‘anthropology at home’ only to the
extent that I could conduct my fieldwork in my own language. That means I was able to share
those common levels of discourse and cultural references that a language inevitably brings with
it.7 As for the rest, the object of my study and the mode of investigation lead to defining my
research as an anthropological account focused on the complexities of modernity and its multiple
scales. As the debate on the role of anthropology and its methodological trademarks within our
contemporary world has shown, concepts such as “field site” and “home” need to take into
account the discipline’s implicit assumptions as well as multiple levels of practices, discourses and
knowledge, including the researcher’s self-reflexivity (Gupta and Ferguson, 1997; Peirano, 1998).

2.3.5 A further remark on my ethnographic fieldwork

Before introducing my research participants, I briefly want to take into consideration one of the
key aspects of my ethnographic fieldwork, that is its temporal dimension. Compared to other
research methods, ethnography traditionally finds its legitimacy and peculiarity in the long and
uninterrupted engagement with the field and who live in it. Multi-sited ethnography as a method
has opened up new, more flexible ways of conducting fieldwork which in turn reflect the
increased mobility characterising our contemporary society (Wulff, 2002; Hannerz, 2003; O’Reilly,
2009). As a consequence, one-year or two-year fieldwork in a single locale is not the norm
anymore. An increasing number of anthropological studies are indeed based in multiple locations
which are investigated across repeated periods of time. Anthropologist Helena Wulff (2002)
describes her multi-local engagement in the study of dance in Ireland using the expression “yo-yo
fieldwork”. According to the author, not being physically in the field over a continuous period of

7
Even though I had to make sense of many expressions in local dialects related to the context of study.

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time does not jeopardise the quality of the observations made by the ethnographer. In-between
periods of fieldwork allow the researcher to sharp her theoretical questions, reflect on the
materials already collected, and better prepare for the next field stint. During the time I spent
away from my research sites, I was still mentally engaged with my fieldwork, I kept in contact with
my informants through different means of communication (voice calls, text messages, emails, and
Facebook), and I revised my research questions and literature in light of what I had already
collected on the field. In advocating short-term ethnography, Pink and Morgan argue that “it is
not simply an inferior way to do ethnographic research that is imposed by the time constraints […]
It is rather a route to producing alternative ways of knowing about and with people and the
environments of which they are part” (2013: 359). According to the authors, short-term
ethnography is characterised by the intensity of the research encounter, a tight dialog between
theory and ethnography and an on-going engagement with the audio-visual materials collected.

On a more personal note, as a PhD student I had to face stringent time constraints and limited
financial resources. Nowadays, universities need to comply with stricter standards of academic
productivity and bureaucratic pressures, which might result in a restriction of the timespan
allowed to fieldwork activities as well as difficulties in obtaining solid funding. Translating all of
that into the planning of my research project, it meant I could not conduct fieldwork over
prolonged periods of time. Instead, as I said, I was able to make short and repeated visits in my
main field sites where I collected a series of ethnographic observations. Nevertheless, I think the
way I conducted my fieldwork did not hinder the quality of my observations and the analysis I
could draw from them.

2.4 My research subjects

In this section, I will introduce the two distinct groups of people I worked with during my
fieldwork and the selection criteria and research methods I adopted. The main group is comprised
of female natural winegrowers working in Piedmont and Sicily, while the second one includes
wine professionals only.

2.4.1 Female natural winegrowers

As viticulture and winemaking are historically a male-dominated field of production (Matasar,


2006; Bryant and Garnham, 2014), I decided to focus my attention in particular on female
winegrowers who are relatively new social actors in this field. In doing so, I could investigate the
production of natural wines through an ethnographic perspective on those producers who
represent the most innovative side of the Italian natural wine field. Some of these women have

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attracted the attention of the media and wine professionals as they are the most prominent
figures in this small world and their notoriety openly clashes with a past characterised by a
marginalised role in this sector. These charismatic women, who have strong personalities and a
highly personal perspective on their work, are praised for the quality of their wines both in Italy
and abroad. Blog posts, newspapers articles, special events, as well as documentaries have been
recently devoted to these influential women (Graglia, 2011; Gasnier, 2016).

As I wanted to give voice to these producers and their heterogenous life trajectories and social
roles, I decided to work with a diverse group of women who could represent this range of
alternatives. A fundamental criterion was their belonging (or not) to traditional families of small
farmers where a gendered division of labour historically determined the role of their female
members (Bravo and Scaraffia, 1979; Pescarolo, 2001). As different scholars have variously argued
with regard to gender roles in traditional winegrowing families (Martinotti, 1984; Pratt, 1994;
Lem, 1999), women would assist men in nearly all the working activities in the vineyard such as
hoeing, planting, applying antifungal treatments to the vines, and driving horses to plough. Still, a
division of labour by gender would characterise pruning as a masculine task due to the strength
required, while other activities deemed as lighter and dexterous were assigned to women (Papa,
1985). Within these families, each family member was variously enrolled as workforce to keep the
farm in operation and thus guarantee the whole family’s livelihood. Small farmers families were
then not only a kin-based institution but also the basis of the unit of production, so family
relations intermingled with work relations (Martinotti, 1984). The head of the family-enterprise
tended to be the oldest male individual, the paterfamilias, who was the legal owner of the land
and had the authority and power to dictate the direction of social life over the rest of the family
members (Barbagli, 1984; Papa, 1985). As Lem (2013) argues, the paterfamilias had the power to
subject his wife, sons and daughters to commit their energies and labour towards sustaining the
family-based enterprise through a regime of “family hegemony” (2013: 225), whereby the values
of familism and family farming got internalised by these kin categories appearing as natural and
common-sensical. If until that moment the work in the vineyard was conducted evenly by both
men and women despite a gendered division of labour, the process of capitalist modernisation
that invested the agricultural sector led to a masculinisation of viticulture and removed women
from many of the tasks performed in the fields (Pratt, 1994; Lem, 1999). A monocultural regime
was introduced and vineyards became then specialised and absorbed all the family investments
which were now oriented towards capital-intensive techniques of vine cultivation. The
mechanisation of the sector accompanied this transformation of the rationality of rural life and
changed the role of women, whose work was now felt redundant. Tractors, mechanical sprayers,
and other machines substituted much of the hard work previously done by men, who remained

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the main presence in the fields while women lost contact with the vineyard environment and
became more and more associated to the domestic sphere only. As different scholars have
argued, farming in general became constructed as a masculine field of production and tractors as
symbols of masculine identity and power (Brandth, 1995; Saugeres, 2002). Importantly, men were
also the ones who controlled not only these new technologies of production, but also the
specialist knowledge required to transform grapes into a commodity to be sold in the market
(Matasar, 2006). Indeed, as my informants confirmed to me, training programs and agrarian
schools were attended by men and actively supported by state policies who addressed them as
the rightful recipients of these initiatives (Lem, 1999).

This historical overview over the changing role of women in the viticultural sector has allowed me
to better understand the novelty brought about by female natural winegrowers in the
contemporary age. By working with both women who represented the last generation of Italian
small-scale winegrower families (Livia, Margherita) and women who chose this profession freely
(Isabella, Claire, Costanza, and Virginia), I could expand my comparative lens. Three additional
selection criteria have contributed to diversify even more my sample: land ownership, technical
background or professionalisation, and being newcomers. In the past, female farmers were
usually excluded from land inheritance to the advantage of their brothers and husbands.
Nowadays, women have increasingly more access to land tenure, which in turn leads to financial
independence and greater decision-making power. Studying oenology and viticulture at university
level represents another novelty associated to women in this sector, and an important credential
for their recognition as professionals. I also wanted to include women who decided to quit their
previous jobs to set up their own winery as their life trajectories, practices, and choices represent
alternative approaches to natural winegrowing. The key to my ethnographic endeavour was to
capture the tensions and ambiguities of the natural wine field by including different female
profiles. I wanted them to guide me through their stories and relationship to wine production and
consumption.

With this group of women, I decided to use participant-observation as my main research method.
I systematically took field-notes of the informal conversations I had with these women, the
everyday activities we carried out both in the vineyard and in the cellar, as well as other relevant
events occurring while I was living with them. I also used an audio recorder for my interviews and
my smartphone to take pictures and make small videos in order to capture the words, gestures
and movements of my informants while working in their wineries. I focused on their manual work
on the vines during the harvest and pruning activities, and their bodily interactions with the must
once their work moved into the cellar. I used these audio and visual materials as research data to

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complement my fieldnotes and enhance my analysis on the multi-sensory, material dimension of


the work of my informants and their engagement with wine and place (Pink, 2009).

As Bloch puts it, participant-observation “makes us learn the procedures which these people have
themselves learned and enables us to check up on whether we are learning properly by observing
our improving ability to cope in the field with daily tasks, including social tasks, as fast as our
informants” (1991: 194). This first-hand, bodily engagement involved in participant-observation
allowed me to acknowledge some implicit aspects of my informants’ skills and values that would
otherwise have remained hidden in the ongoing flow of everyday life. As an example, cleaning the
floor of the cellar and all the equipment used after crushing and destemming every afternoon
during the harvest, made me realise how crucial it is for these producers to maintain high levels of
hygiene. As these winemakers do not use any chemical additives but just low amounts of
sulphites (which basically protect the must from bacterial attacks), it is fundamental to leave the
cellar as clean as possible at the end of the day.

This group of research participants is constituted by six women aged 35-52, four of them working
in Piedmont (Livia, Margherita, Costanza and Virginia) and two in Sicily (Isabella and Claire). 9 Due
to the small size of the Italian natural wine world, all my informants know each other (and each
other’s wines) at least by name. Two of them are members of the same association of natural
winegrowers (VinNatur) or participate to the same annual wine fairs; in some cases, their wines
are sold by the same distributor. Moreover, some of these women are bound by a long-standing
friendship (Livia and Margherita, Livia and Isabella). Livia and Isabella are my key informants as I
managed to spend more time with them, and I had the opportunity to follow more closely them
in their everyday activities. By living and working with these two women, I was able to gain a
more informed understanding of the kind of engagement they have with their vines, the cellar
environment, and the locality where they live. In what follows, I present all my informants by
providing short biographies connected to their engagement with natural wine production.

2.4.1.1 Livia

Livia represents at least the fifth generation of a family of traditional small-scale winegrowers
based on the rolling hills of Asti province in Piedmont (see map below). The area is particularly
well-known for the production of sparkling wines from a local aromatic white variety called
Moscato. Her family owns nearly fifteen hectares of vineyards and they annually produce
approximately 70,000 bottles of wine (mostly being the internationally praised Moscato d’Asti).

9
Their real names have been replaced by pseudonyms according to the ERGO ethical procedures. The same
holds for the rest of my participants.

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She is the youngest of four siblings, and with her older brother and father she manages the family
wine estate. She grew up in a traditional patriarchal family, and after her graduate studies in
Development and International Cooperation at the University of Turin and a short working
experience abroad, she decided to come back to Piedmont to join the family winery. Livia
combines a strong attachment to local traditions (of which she proudly claims the role of
“custode”) and an innate desire to travel around the world. She claims that her work as a natural
winegrower has enabled her to reconcile these two apparently contrasting aspects of her identity.
During our first encounter, she told me that wine is a unique means to feel connected to her own
place and, at the same time, meet with other like-minded producers around the world during
wine fairs and sales trips. A few months before my arrival to her estate, Livia’s mother (a leading
figure within the family) had passed away and Livia’s marriage relationship was coming to an end,
too. In a patriarchal family such as hers, she had to replace her mother’s role and become more
involved into the domestic duties (shopping and cooking for the whole family twice a day; taking
care of her father, son and daughter; coordinating the working activities of the housekeeper and
another woman who helps Livia with her father, the vegetable garden, the vineyards and the
cellar management). Though she is called la padronna (dialect expression for “mistress”) by her
father due to her managerial role in the household and the winery, Livia describes her identity as
constantly being at the interface between a “traditional” world and a “modern” one, each
characterised by specific timescales. She spends part of her life living and working within a
traditional peasant family where there is a marked gendered division of labour which has assigned
her a range of diverse responsibilities. At the same time, she identifies as a “modern” (and now a
single) woman who is highly mobile, speaks two foreign languages and travels the world to trade
their wines. This double identity is experienced by Livia through a sense of internal fragmentation,
and represents a constant source of familiar tensions (especially before and during the time she
spends away from home). While she has consciously chosen to take her role within a traditional
peasant family and embrace the social values underlying the peasant culture, she is aware of the
contradictions and tensions nested in her being both a “traditional” and “modern” woman.

I got in contact with Livia and her family before my fieldwork formally started off. I have focused
on her as she embodies two contrasting aspects of the natural wine world: a strong attachment to
tradition and locality as well as a marked transnational dimension. Also, recounting Livia’s story
means tracing the initial stages of the Italian natural wine movement. Indeed, she was one of the
first Italian producers to be invited to the early salons du vin nature in France, as well as one of
the promoters of the first natural wine fair in Italy.10 Nowadays, she can count on a robust

10
I will describe Livia’s story more in depth in chapter 4.

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network of contacts (producers, sales agents, distributors, etc.) and it is through her that I met
Isabella, Margherita and Claire.

Figure 3 Map of Piedmont (modified from “File:Piemonte relief location map.jpg”


by User:Bourrichon, licensed with CC BY-SA 3.0)

2.4.1.2 Isabella

Isabella is my second key informant, she is based in the historically renowned wine area of
Vittoria, in the southeast corner of Sicily (see map below). Despite her young age (she is now in
her thirties), she is highly regarded as a natural winegrower by wine critics, journalists, and other
professionals working within both the natural and conventional wine sector. After a degree in
Viticulture and Oenology at the University of Milan in the early 2000s, she decided to go back to
her home region to produce natural wines from autochthonous grape varieties of her area: Nero
d’Avola and Frappato (both red varieties), Moscato and Albanello (white varieties). Isabella is a
young woman with a strong personality and a highly personal view on viticulture and winemaking.
Now, she is the owner and manager of an estate which covers eighteen hectares of vineyards and
produces distinctive wine of terroir. Nearly all her annual production (around 120,000 bottles) is
exported to the US, Japan, and Scandinavia.

In a way, Isabella (like Livia) represents a very special kind of informant due to the mythical halo
that surrounds her within this world. The fact that her winery attracts a large number of tourists,

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wine critics, distributors, journalists, and young trainees is definitely connected to her high status
and her volcanic personality. Isabella belongs to that first cohort of Italian natural winegrowers
that gained a name on the international scene thanks to a few pioneering tours to the USA
organised by an American distributor in the early 2000s, when she was still in her twenties. The
first of these trips, in 2008, forged the beginning of close friendships with her travel companions
that endure, such as the one with Livia.

In 2003, when she was moving her very first steps in the world of wine after her degree in
Oenology, Isabella sent a letter to the highly respected Italian wine critic and journalist
Veronelli.11 The letter contained a harsh critique on the increasing industrialisation of the wine
sector, and it received Veronelli’s attention and praise. Her rigorous approach to winemaking,
considered environmentally sound due to her resolute rejection of any chemical substances in the
vineyard and in the cellar, was captured in the nickname “natural woman” which was coined by
an American journalist after a reportage on her estate in 2012. Seen through the eyes of a foreign
journalist, the case of Isabella combined in the perfect ingredients to write a success story. In fact,
being a young woman in a traditionally male-dominated field of production, based in a region
historically connected to the mafia, contributed to create the heroic aura surrounding her. The
following year, she published a book, a sort of sentimental journey into her passion for Sicily,
winemaking and agriculture. Since then, Isabella has been into the spotlight of the international
wine world, she has appeared in documentaries and TV programs on wine, and she is widely
recognised as one of the most successful Italian female winegrowers. For all these reasons, I
wanted to include her in my research and I felt extremely lucky when I was invited to join her at
her estate for the harvest season in 2017.

11
The role of Veronelli in promoting Italian small-scale, artisanal wines will be described in chapter 3. Here
it is important to say that Veronelli was also the editor of one of the very first Italian wine guides.

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Figure 4 Map of Sicily (modified from "File:Relief map of Italy Sicily.png" by Nzeemin, licensed
with CC BY-SA 3.0)

2.4.1.3 Margherita

Margherita belongs to a family of small-scale winegrowers where she represents the fourth
generation (and the first female). The family estate is based in a less-known area of Piedmont
which is comprised between the provinces of Alessandria and Asti. Her family possesses seven
hectares of vineyards and produces nearly 25,000 bottles of wine from local grape varieties
(mainly Barbera and Grignolino) each year. Like Livia, Margherita did not enrol immediately into
the family enterprise and decided to do so on her own after her undergraduate studies in Graphic
Arts, when she realised that wine represented her real passion. Before joining the family winery,
she enrolled into a course in Wine Tourism and Marketing in Asti where she met Livia’s brother.
Since then, the two families have maintained a friendly relationship and Margherita feels
indebted to Livia and her brother as they introduced her to their wide social network of producers
and international importers.

Margherita has two sisters, both of whom never showed any interest in the work of their family,
so that it came as a surprise (and a certain regret) for Margherita’s parents when their daughter
expressed the desire to work with them. Working the land was still attached to past experiences
of hunger and toil at local level, and Margherita’s parents actively supported a different working
trajectory for all their daughters. The fact they were all women reinforced her parents’ views as
winemaking was still deemed a male occupation. Margherita initially dedicated to widening their

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local clientele by choosing to bottle their wine, which had been sold in bulk or demijohns until
then. Later, she moved her first steps into the cellar and here she had to negotiate her presence
with her father, who was at that time the main person in control of each stage of the vinification
process. Nowadays, Margherita is in her forties and has two daughters, who grew up following
her mother in the family vineyards and the small cellar where she has introduced her own
personal approach to winemaking and crafts wines with a great deal of experimentation. Though
she thinks that working within the family estate has represented a limitation to her professional
development as a winegrower, she has consciously embraced the values surrounding the peasant
culture in which she was born (a strong attachment to her place, a sense of simplicity and
frankness, which are all expressed into her wines). Even the dynamic within her family reflects this
peasant substratum: her father represents the head of the family (he is the owner of their plots
and he is the only one entitled to drive the tractor), but it is her mother the “real engine of the
whole family”, as Margherita stated the first time I met her. Margherita can count on her
mother’s support not only to mediate in the difficult relationship she has with her father, but also
for some domestic duties like taking care of her two daughters. Margherita’s parents-in-law are
way less available in this respect and for this reason are described by Margherita as “modern
grandparents”. Divided between the work in the vineyards and the cellar, and the domestic
activities at home, Margherita’s mother impersonates the leading female figure within traditional
peasant families (similarly to Livia’s mother). Despite the reduced size of her family estate,
Margherita has a strong reputation within the natural wine sector, and a large number of
passionate clients from different countries who periodically come to visit her winery (among
them, many Japanese natural wine lovers). Together with (and thanks to) Livia, she attended the
first natural wine fairs organised in Italy in the early 2000s. She was also part of the small group of
Italian natural winegrowers who toured the USA together with Livia and Isabella around the same
years. It is through Livia that I got in contact with Margherita and her family, even though I
already knew her wines and part of her story.

2.4.1.4 Costanza

Unlike Livia and Margherita, Costanza does not belong to a family of wine producers. As I could
tell from her strong accent when we first met, Costanza grew up in Rome where she gained a
degree in mathematics. As her desire to pursue a PhD in the same field was frustrated by some
disagreements with her supervisor, Costanza decided to move to Milan to study finance and there
she met her partner. After a career as financial consultants and due to a common passion for
wine, in 2009 they decided to quit their jobs and urban lifestyle to set up a small winery on the
hills of Ovada in southern Piedmont. Before embarking in their new life project, Costanza (who
was in her forties) studied Viticulture and Oenology at the University of Milan. Together with her

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partner, she now owns five hectares of vineyards and produces approximately 21,000 bottles of
wine from different indigenous varieties. This hilly and mountainous area called Alto Monferrato
(alto means “high”) where viticulture has long been practiced, is generally considered a rural
border land between the regions of Piedmont and Liguria. When choosing where to invest their
money to start their business, Costanza and her partner were attracted to this remote corner of
Piedmont (called “the other Piedmont” by her), which was historically famous for wine production
and nowadays is more affordable compared to the prestigious Langhe. They converted an old
cascina (“farmstead”) into an upscale agriturismo where they currently live and host tourists
visiting the area. Their brand-new three-floor cellar was designed by an architect and hosts a
variety of different vats (wooden barrels, clay amphoras, concrete and stainless-steel tanks) which
reflect Costanza’s experimental approach to winemaking.

Since the beginning, their idea was to produce natural or, as they prefer to say, “radical” wines by
using just organic grapes without any chemical additives. This approach to winegrowing (which
Costanza defines a “philosophy”) does not clash with the rigorous technical knowledge she
applies to her work in the cellar, where she vinifies with minimal or zero additions of sulphites.
Her scientific background and passion for mathematics resonates in her fascination for oenology
and, more concretely, in her own lab where she can test the various wine component (sugar, pH
and acidity) without recurring to external laboratories. On her Facebook profile, she defines
herself a “militant producer, alternative oenologist, mathematician and dog lover”. Considered a
talented winegrower by various sommeliers despite being a newcomer to this world, Costanza is a
member of the VinNatur association and actively engaged into the promotion of the place where
she lives and produces her wines. I decided to focus on Costanza as I was interested in her story
and role within her winery, which were different compared to the rest of my informants.
Moreover, a wine professional I interviewed at an early stage of my research praised her talent
and natural instinct as a winemaker and I became even more intrigued by her persona. I first met
Costanza during a natural wine fair in London in March 2017, and I later discovered that she is a
close family friend of one of my informants from my second group of research participants (the
head sommelier based in Copenhagen).

2.4.1.5 Claire

Claire produces natural wines with her husband on the northern side of Mount Etna (Sicily). As a
globe-trotter oenologist (she obtained her degree from the University of Adelaide), she worked in
conventional large-scale wineries in France, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa for more
than ten years. In 2001 she moved to a renowned wine estate in Tuscany and there she met her
future husband, who introduced her to the world of natural wines. He is one of the co-founders of

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a major UK-based importer and distributor of natural wines, which also works with some of my
informants (Livia, Isabella, and obviously Claire). It was through him that Claire decided to change
her approach to winegrowing and went to Burgundy first and Tuscany later to learn more about
the biodynamic method applied to viticulture. In 2005, Claire first set foot on Mount Etna and
here the unique volcanic soil and extreme landscape exerted great fascination over her. For three
years, she worked as a winemaker for a local estate and then she decided to set up her own small
winery with her husband. To vinify their wines, they restored a 250-year-old palmento (a rural
building where wine was traditionally produced in squared open vats carved into the local stone),
which appears in some of their labels designed by a French cartoonist who also collaborates with
other French like-minded producers. Part of their wines are aged in buried clay amphoras
following the traditional Georgian method. They now produce nearly 40,000 bottles of wine from
five hectares of biodynamic vineyards (three of them are owned by Claire and her husband
whereas the remaining two are rented). The vines, scattered through multiple small plots placed
on spectacular terraces, are mostly sixty to one hundred-year-old plants of Nerello Mascalese (a
local red grape variety). Claire and her husband have two children and the whole family is based
in London. That makes Claire a highly mobile winegrower, who commute between the UK and
Sicily on a monthly basis taking turns with her husband to stay with their sons in London. Her
children attend school in the English capital, and generally prolong their holiday breaks to allow
the family to spend longer periods of time on Mount Etna. For these reasons, Claire and her
husband have hired three local young male workers (one full-time and two part-time) who
supervise the activities in the cellar on a regular basis. Claire is not a member of any Italian natural
wine associations, but her sales network is highly developed through her husband’s job as
distributor, importer and retailer. I first met Claire during a wine fair in London in April 2017 and I
later got in contact with her through Livia, who is a friend of hers. I decided to include her among
my informants as she represents, like Isabella, a type of independent, highly-trained female
producer of natural wines who is not tied to a traditional familiar background.

2.4.1.6 Virginia

Virginia was the first producer I was put in contact with by my gatekeeper. She is a fifty-year-old
natural and biodynamic wine producer working in Monferrato, a well-known wine area of
Piedmont comprised between the two provinces of Asti and Alessandria. Like Costanza, who is a
good friend of her, Virginia decided to become a winegrower at a later stage of her life. Virginia
was born in Veneto, the north-eastern region of Italy internationally renowned for the local red
wine Amarone, but she does not belong to a winegrower family. Following her university studies
in Modern Languages, she moved to Milan and after a brief working experience as a professional
dancer, she started working in the theatre sector as a manager and producer of international

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Chapter 2

dancing shows. In 2005 Virginia and her husband (who is a TV producer) decided to buy a cascina
and the surrounding 60 hectares of land divided into large portions of wood, an orchard and what
would become a small vineyard plot (three hectares), in Monferrato. In tracing her life trajectory,
Virginia explicitly draws a geographical axis which points to the West and the mythical land of
wine: “I come from Verona, I passed through Milan, I have arrived in Piedmont and, I like to say, I
am probably going to France” (interview 17/07/17). She looks at her previous experiences as
different threads revealing parts of her inner self and linked by a sustained and unconscious
desire of being independent and physically close to nature. The project of producing wine in this
“nearly archaic, rural” corner of Piedmont responds first of all to the realization of this personal
trajectory, where her body represents the main point of reference. Recalling her past experience
as a professional dancer, she told me that producing wine and interacting with her vines took the
connotations of a dance.

Since the beginning, Virginia approached viticulture and winemaking with this intimate and
existential posture. Agriculture is, for her, primarily a physical experience that involves her whole
persona, and it functioned as a catalyst of her inner aspirations and desires. According to her,
producing naturally is a fundamental starting point within her vision as a winegrower. She planted
vine shoots of autochthonous red grape varieties (Barbera and Grignolino), applying the principles
of biodynamic agriculture. Before planting the first vines, Virginia studied to become a
professional sommelier at the most credited national association of wine-tasters, AIS
(Associazione Nazionale Sommelier). At the same time, she attended specialised courses and
seminars on the modern biodynamic method under the guide of the agronomist and consultant
Leonello Anello, who introduced her to the application of Steiner’s principles to agriculture.12
Nowadays, her annual production is around 8,000 bottles of certified biodynamic red wine which
she mainly exports abroad. Her explicit orientation towards biodynamic agriculture and her
decision to become a winegrower at a later stage of her life made me decide to include her into
my research project.

2.4.2 Wine professionals

My second group of informants is composed by four professionals involved in the Italian natural
wine world. One manages a wine bar in Milan selling bottles of natural wines; one lives in
Copenhagen and is the head sommelier of two restaurants which serve natural wines; one is a
Turin-based natural wine distributor and organiser of a natural wine fair; the last one is a Milan-
based professional sommelier and wine educator, who also owns an independent publishing

12
I will discuss Steiner’s philosophy in chapter 3.

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Chapter 2

house mainly specialised on French and Italian wine culture. They are key players in the marketing
and promotion of these wines and the approach behind their production. In my thesis, I refer to
this group of professionals as “cultural intermediaries”, drawing on an expression coined by
Bourdieu (1987). The French sociologist defined these actors as professional taste makers who
rely on their knowledge and authority to construct repertoires of cultural legitimacy. My
informants provided me with useful background information related to the positioning of these
wines and their producers both in the national and global wine market. Moreover, they are
actively engaged in the heated debate concerning the status and legitimacy of these wines and
their definition as a product category. With this group of informants, I conducted four semi-
structured interviews between 2017 and 2018. Through the materials collected during these
encounters, I gained a better understanding of the natural wine world, the distribution of these
wines across Italy and abroad, as well as the different meanings and values attached to their
consumption.

Moreover, in order to map the historical development of the Italian natural wine movement and
the emergence of a natural wine culture, I have relied on articles published on wine specialist
magazines, blogs and newspapers; books written by sommeliers, wine critics and educators;
documentaries dedicated to natural wine producers; informal chats with restaurateurs, wine-shop
owners and natural wine lovers. All together, these materials are part of what sociologists Inglis
and Almila define “wine field”, which refers to “how people talk about, construe, debate,
polemicize and imagine wine […] This is a field of competing and conflicting values and opinions. It
mediates between the wine world and wine culture, as it shapes both what consumers consume
and what producers produce” (2019: 8).

2.5 Methodological challenges

Navigating a field strongly characterised by specialist knowledge (namely, viticulture and


oenology) and high levels of handcraft, has required some preliminary theoretical background as
well as a multisensorial attentiveness. Winegrowing, and even more so natural winegrowing, is a
complex field of practice characterised by manual work, observational skills, technical and
scientific knowledge, as well as sensitivity and care. As I will better describe in the next chapters,
this amount of physical fatigue, manual skills, ongoing tasting, and precise planning constellate
the everyday lives of my informants and concerns both the vineyard and the cellar. Because of the
artisanal character of this production, natural winegrowers generally manage and control each
step of the process. In order to map and make sense of the myriad of actions leading to the final
product, it was necessary for me to possess some basic notions of winemaking and wine-tasting.

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Chapter 2

I believe some field sites such as mine require a good level of specialist knowledge which
enhances the ethnographer’s capability of being engaged in, and discussing about, the flow of
activities carried out by her informants. Otherwise, the risk would be that the researcher might
not access that level of understanding in which practices become meaningful, discourses are
assessed, and negotiation and interpretation take place. At that level of expertise, the
ethnographer can comprehend what is going on while observing her informants, and what
constitutes matter of discussion or disagreement amongst them. One of the fieldnotes I took
during my fieldwork in Sicily is quite eloquent in this sense: “I am at the table with my informant
and all her interns, ready for the next blind tasting. The covered bottle finally appears on the
table, and everyone looks pretty excited to start a new tasting session. My informant’s boyfriend
pours the wine into the glasses and a lively debate immediately ensues. If I did not know anything
about macerations, carbonic vinifications, reductions and volatile acidities I would definitely miss
a great deal of this interaction” (Fieldnote 26/09/17).

I think some background knowledge is crucial to the ethnographer’s apprenticeship, even more so
within the current compression of time in academic research which results in increasing
constraints in conducting long-term fieldwork. As far as I am concerned, my previous training in
wine tasting proved to be a valuable tool in my context of study. Before starting my PhD, I
undertook two courses on wine tasting at one of the leading organizations of wine tasters in Italy
(ONAV), which provided me with solid background knowledge.13 Moreover, given that the
production of natural wine is a contested practice, the prior knowledge I gained was fundamental
in order to understand what my informants were rejecting in terms of oenological practices, and
how they were doing so. When approaching my informants for the first time, especially those I
interviewed just once, they usually took for granted that I was knowledgeable enough to discuss
about fermenting processes, indigenous yeasts, and other technical notions of winemaking.

Still, during my fieldwork, I embarked upon a proper apprenticeship. The gap between what I had
studied in my handbook while preparing for my certificate as a wine taster, and what I learnt
while working with my informants was immediately evident. As viticulture and winemaking are
sensuous fields of practice, all my theoretical notions were temporarily put aside as soon as I
moved around the rows of vines of my informants and I stepped into their cellars. Besides the
technical and theoretical knowledge involved in this kind of production, a whole range of tacit
actions, gestures, and movements constituted the core of my informants’ work and my own
apprenticeship. Ingold describes this process as a condition in which “the learner is placed […] in a

13
I still had a critical approach to the training I received and I was aware about the political agenda of my
organization within the national wine panorama.

36
Chapter 2

practical situation and is told to pay attention to how ‘this’ feels, or how ‘that’ looks or sounds –
to notice those subtleties of texture that are all important to good judgment and the successful
practice of a craft” (Ingold, 2000: 416). Referring to the knowledge gained through a process of
apprenticeship, and more in general as the result of doing fieldwork, Jenkins (1994) sheds light on
the analytical complexities of grasping what he defines the “elusive quality” of everyday life.
Following a line of enquiry initiated by Bourdieu (1977), Jenkins highlights the practical, mainly
unuttered dimension of social knowledge, and the gradual acquisition of embodied skills and
habits that serve as a basis to navigate the social world. Social encounters are shaped by degrees
of social knowledge spread unevenly among different actors, previous personal experiences
holding specific temporalities as well as the immanent possibility of mutual misunderstanding. In
this regard, the ethnographer’s apprenticeship in the field is the same as the one undertaken by
anybody else: “Social life, indeed, is made up of these acts of mutual interpretation, and the
anthropologist, like any other actor, needs to create protocols, through acquiring various habits,
skills and savoir-faire that will allow him or her to participate in it” (Jenkins, 1994: 443).

2.5.1 The researcher’s positionality

Connected to this dimension of apprenticeship, another methodological facet emerged while


conducting my fieldwork: my own positionality. As Jenkins (1994) has pointed out, there is no
such thing as “objective observer”, as anyone in the field occupies a specific position determined
by individual (and partial) knowledge of the world, desires and personal ambitions as well as
power and gender relations. The ethnographer walks into the field bringing with her a personal
baggage formed by her previous life experiences, personal attitudes, and sensitivity, which all
influence the way the local social context is perceived and understood. That requires a critical
understanding of the production of ethnographic knowledge at each stage of the research process
(England, 1994; Aull Davies, 2007). Indeed, my specific role as a researcher in the field took with it
a few methodological and epistemological implications. In line with an interpretivist approach,
there is not a truly objective reality to look at, instead any actor (including the same
ethnographer) possesses just a partial, socially determined, situated knowledge of the world. As a
result, this specific positionality must be fully acknowledged once the researcher tries to make
sense of what she has experienced and recorded in the field. My presence in the field needed to
be made explicit at any step of the research process: from taking field notes to data analysis, up
to the final writing stage. In other words, since the very beginning of the research, the
ethnographer ought to be self-reflexive about the process of co-construction of social knowledge
as well as its negotiated and situated nature (Geertz, 1988; Coffey, 1999).

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Especially at the beginning of my fieldwork, I realized how my persona constituted an unusual and
cumbersome presence among my informants. My objective then was to try to make my actions as
little disruptive as possible. That is not an easy task when dealing with a working environment
that is regulated by specific patterns of actions which involve the use of the body and a constant
level of attention. For example, following my informants pruning their vines without distracting
them too much while asking them a number of more or less banal questions, was in fact quite
hard at the beginning. The same held in the cellar, when I tried to help them moving around
pumps and buckets during those delicate moments in which a single wrong passage can lead to
disastrous effects and cause tensions between the people involved.

Meanwhile though, my presence triggered in my informants a further sense of awareness about


the actions they were carrying out. Even when my research participants got used to me
wandering around the vineyard and the cellar holding my notebook, I could feel that my presence
functioned as a sort of mirror to them. The fact that I was there to follow their daily activities and
discuss about winemaking with them, prompted my informants to become more self-reflexive on
what they were doing. Sometimes, this self-reflexivity took the shape of a renovated sense of
belonging. For instance, Livia (my key informant who lives and works as a natural winegrower in
Piedmont) told me that speaking about her engagement with the local winegrowing traditions
made her realize how deeply she felt attached to the hills surrounding her house and winery. On
another occasion, my manifested interest in pruning was the reason for her father (a man in his
80s) to go back to the vineyard with a pair of shears after a long time, an event which was
received with great surprise by the rest of his family.

This dimension of self-reflexivity was a key aspect of my daily interactions with my informants
throughout my whole fieldwork. As it will be clearer in the next chapters, natural winegrowing is a
contesting and contested practice (especially for what concerns the procedures undertaken in the
cellar). Natural winegrowers are confronted with wine critics and legal institutions (such as the
national DOC system) which delegitimise their work by criticising their methodological choices
and the alternative sensorial aesthetics of their wines. As a consequence, these producers are
engaged at various degrees in an ongoing battle to promote and value their wines and the
approach behind their production. Translating this into own my ethnographic experience, it
meant dealing with people who were constantly reflecting on their own actions, choices, and
ideas. Their way of speaking with me about spontaneous fermentations, yeast, and bacteria was,
in a Comaroffian sense, ideologically loaded in so far as their worldview took the shape of a self-
conscious system of beliefs that needed to be explicitly reaffirmed and reinforced (Comaroff and
Comaroff, 1991). As I will argue, this reflexive attitude is one of the crucial elements
characterising my female informants and their approach to wine production and consumption.

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Chapter 2

2.6 Sensory ethnography

The subject of my study has naturally led me to focus my attention to the sensorial dimension of
my fieldwork. Wine, together with all that surrounds it (namely, its materiality, production,
consumption and corresponding practices), is placed into a sensuous dimension. Starting from the
work undertaken in the vineyard up to the process of fermentation in the cellar, the production of
wine constitutes a field of practice characterised by high levels of sensorial engagement. Drinking
wine represents one of the most complex actions humans can undertake in terms of sensorial
engagement. It is a multi-sensorial practice that involves the use of our senses: not only our nose
and mouth are engaged in the process, but also our eyes and ears are at work while approaching
a glass of wine. In particular, drinking natural wines constitutes an even more engaging
experience due to their striking sensorial aesthetics. As I will argue, these wines present a wide
range of smells and flavours, which are able to reconnect the drinker to past sensorial memories.
Doing participant-observation in such a context of study meant drinking wine with my informants
in different occasions and for different purposes, smelling the fermenting must in their cellars
from early morning, moving around vines to prune in the middle of the winter. In the following
chapters, I will describe in detail the multi-sensorial environment of the vineyard, cellar, and the
numerous wine-tasting sessions I attended during my fieldwork. For now, I want to focus on what
is defined as “sensory ethnography” and its tenets as a reliable research method (Pink,
2009;2010).

For Malinowski, the main scope of ethnography was constituted by grasping “the native’s point of
view, his relation to life, to realise his vision of his world” (1978: 25). Indeed, the predominance of
sight over the rest of our senses has characterized anthropology until quite recently. Considered
as either a physical perception or a metaphor, sight has dominated many paradigms throughout
the history of the discipline. As different scholars have argued, an eye-oriented approach applied
to the study of culture and society reflects a specifically Western attitude towards reality
(Haraway, 1988; Classen and Howes, 1996; Classen, 1997).

Based on a multidisciplinary approach to the study of everyday life and human experience and
drawing on recent findings in neurology that suggest our senses are inter-connected, sensory
ethnography stresses how learning and knowing are situated in embodied practice and
movement (Ingold, 2000). The focus of this approach is on those dimensions of our being in the
world that are pre- or non-linguistic, and on our body as the locus of multi-sensorial experience
where memory, imagination, and sensations are all interwoven so as to produce signification. As a
research method, sensory ethnography empowers the immersive nature of fieldwork highlighting
the multi-sensorial aspects of participant-observation (including everything which is non-verbal

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Chapter 2

and unspoken), both in the research practice and in the way the latter is presented to the public
(Pink, 2009). Regarding research impact, anthropologist Sarah Pink endorses the use of visual
media and other art practices that go beyond the traditional written monograph and enable the
audience to physically engage with the final work.

The ethnographic encounter is framed in a way that stresses the researcher’s multisensory
participation in actions and activities carried out in the field, such as walking with one’s
informants, eating, and playing with them (Pink, 2007). As emerged in my own fieldwork, drinking
with my informants was a fundamental multi-sensorial practice that disclosed a whole range of
meanings, values, memories, and emotions. As I said above, producing and tasting wine involve all
human senses. In particular, the act of crafting natural wines requires a great deal of manual
coordination, careful attentiveness to single details, and a sensitive disposition towards the living
fermenting must and, later, wine.14 Also, tasting wine both in the cellar and in other social
contexts was characterised by specific performative features that stressed the multi-sensorial
nature of this action: staring at the wine served, rotating rhythmically the glass (clockwise or anti-
clockwise direction is itself matter of debate), smelling the liquid, and finally sipping through
specific and repetitive movements. During my fieldwork, I was an apprentice who tried to learn
through practice in a context that placed constant attention to these different sensorial stimuli.
My movements in the vineyard and in the cellar were constantly driven by a careful attention to
the surrounding smells and sounds as well as the tactile sensations provided by grape skins, soil,
fermenting must, and wine.

2.6.1 The ethnographer as a research instrument

Within this methodological framework, the ethnographer’s body plays a fundamental part. Since
its first formulations as a research method, ethnography has given special attention to the role of
the researcher in the field. Rather than considering it as a neutral presence, early anthropologists
and fieldworkers conveyed the idea that the researcher’s body is a scientific instrument through
which social reality can be measured and interpreted.

In the early twentieth century’s anthropology, this methodological tenet was firstly endorsed by
the British anthropologist W. H. R. Rivers (Kuklick, 2011). During the Torres Strait expedition in
1898, Rivers tested the islanders’ sense of smell, touch, hearing, and vision through experimental
psychological tests and found evidence that, as humans, we share the same sensorial apparatus.

14
This deep perceptual engagement with the living properties of wine is a key point of differentiation
between natural and conventional winemaking (see chapter 5).

40
Chapter 2

This finding made possible for the researcher to understand the subjects of her study by imitating
their conduct, postures and gesture, thus becoming a sympathetic observer. Rivers and his
psychological model, which entailed the use of the researcher’s body as a measurable device in
the field, influenced Malinowski and his ethnographic works. Although at that time it was framed
within an evolutionary perspective, this methodological principle is still at the core of the
ethnographic research practice (and, in particular, participant-observation).

Reflecting on the differences between ethnographic and scientific fieldwork, Candea (2013)
defines the former as an “experimental device” insofar as the world of the people studied and
their knowledge of it are measured by the ethnographer, who becomes an embodied instrument
able to record people’s aims and concerns through her persona. The fieldsite functions as a device
that allows the researcher to experiment with time and space, and in particular to acknowledge
how these two dimensions are lived by the people studied. This process implies a sort of tension
between local configurations on one hand, and the ethnographer’s own trajectories: “an
ethnographic ‘fieldsite’ emerges at the intersection of the localizing processes of the people
studied, and of the interests, decisions and commitments of the anthropologist” (Candea, 2013:
254).

As an anthropologist working on wine, this methodological aspect has been even more evident as
I physically used my body as a device to interact with the object of my study. Indeed, wine was
physically at the centre of most discussions and informal chats I had with my informants, who
were keen to share their views about wine production and winemaking techniques in front of a
glass of wine. During these situations, I relied on my tasting skills in order to appreciate, assess,
and share comments on wines’ colours, smells and tastes. During the pruning and harvest periods,
I physically experienced the strain and fatigue characterising these two important annual
activities. Sharing these tasks with my informants was fundamental for accessing their
worldviews, and understanding the meanings attached to their work.

2.6.2 The use of interviews and its critique

According to an ethnographic approach that places greater importance on the senses,


interviewing is considered as a multi-sensorial event. That means that the discursive content of
the interview represents just one of the sources of data to be interpreted by the researcher. The
interview setting represents a situated and meaningful context where knowledge is constantly co-
produced and co-constructed by the interviewee and the researcher. As the interview is not
suspended in a vacuum, attention should be paid to sounds, smells and dynamic interactions that
surround the interview, as well as emotional reactions and moments of silence. For example, that

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Chapter 2

was the case during a blind wine-tasting session with Isabella and other people in a restaurant,
where she got emotional and decided to pause for a moment (I describe this episode in chapter
6). In my fieldwork experience, I tried to put this methodological principle into practice by
considering what was going on besides the interview itself. I noted down the emotional reactions
of my interviewees and I took into consideration the instances in which other social actors
interrupted our conversations. I also retrospectively analysed how much my questions had
determined the trajectory of the whole interview in a self-reflexive fashion.

Drawing on critiques about the use of interviewing in qualitative research studies and the
methodological risks of treating interview and narrative data as privileged ways to reveal
“authenticity” (Atkinson and Silverman, 1997; Hammersley, 2003), I decided to limit my use of
semi-structured interviews to my second group of research participants (sommeliers, wine
experts, journalists, wine retailers, etc.), and rely mainly on participant-observation with my main
informants (female winegrowers).

Considering the multi-sensorial nature of my fieldwork, I deemed participant-observation as the


best methodological tool to use in my ethnographic study. Working with female winegrowers and
taking part in their ordinary activities allowed me to acknowledge the multi-faceted and multi-
sensorial aspects of their work, including the tacit dimensions of their practices. Informal chats
with my main informants have been recorded and annotated without resorting to a more formal
interview setting. I opted to conduct semi-structured interviews when time constraints did not
allow me to engage in more informal conversations. That was mainly the case with my second
group of research participants with whom I used semi-structured interviews to discuss issues
surrounding the production, consumption, and distribution of natural wines. These interviews
took place in different locations: at the wine bar run by the Milan-based manager; at a wine fair
with the Turin-based distributor; online with the head-sommelier living in Copenhagen; at the
private house of the Milan-based professional sommelier.

However, my methodological choice does not imply a supposed priority of participant-


observation over interviewing, as these two “symmetric” methods hold different rationales and
produce data of different forms (Atkinson and Coffey, 2002). Interviews allowed me to focus on
the way my informants placed themselves within the debate on natural wine production, and the
cultural resources they employed to build their own perspectives on this topic.

2.7 Research ethics and data analysis

My ethnographic fieldwork has been approved by the Ethics Committee of the University of
Southampton. I am also fully aware of the Ethical Guidelines for Good Research Practice published

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Chapter 2

by the Association of Social Anthropologists of the UK and Commonwealth.15 The participant


information sheet and consent form I used for my informants can be found in Appendix A and B,
respectively. When I conducted my fieldwork, I carried with me the relevant participant
information sheet and consent form as requested by the ERGO ethical procedures. While it was
relatively easy to explain the reasons of my presence there and the main aims of my study by
voice, the moment of signing the relevant forms made me aware of my own specific position in
the field. The whole procedure of communicating details about the rights of my informants as
research participants and the subsequent request of signature on the consent form became a
matter of personal reflection over the power relations between the researcher and her
participants. The same act of signing off an official document bearing the header of a foreign
university was accepted with varying degrees of deference and pride. Research ethics and its
practical application to my study through the use of these official documents, shed further light
on the complex relationship between the researcher and her participants. Being a PhD student
based at an English university added cultural capital and academic prestige to my persona and my
role as a researcher while conducting fieldwork in Italy. That proved to be a useful means to
establish an initial contact with, and gain the attention of, my second group of informants. Due to
time constraints and the secondary role of this group of participants within my research design, I
took advantage of this specific social position to facilitate my access to these informants. I acted
in a different manner with my main informants, as I had more time to establish a closer
relationship with them. As a result, the ethical procedures took place in a more informal fashion
with this group of participants.

I first transcribed the interviews I had recorded during my fieldwork, and then I proceeded to
code the transcriptions according to relevant themes that I had in part already identified while
being in the field. I applied the same procedure to my fieldnotes, my informants’ Facebook posts,
other relevant online materials as well as brochures and wine fair guides I had collected during my
fieldwork. Drawing on my analysis, I decided to construct my narrative through key thematic
sections which correspond to Chapters 4 to 6 of the thesis. Within each section, I integrated the
relevant theoretical analysis into my ethnographic data.

2.8 Conclusions

In this chapter, I critically presented my research methodology, described the sites where I
conducted my ethnographic fieldwork, and introduced my research participants and their

15
https://www.theasa.org/ethics/guidelines.shtml

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biographies. I demonstrated how the methods I used in my research are relevant to this study by
highlighting their analytical strength and methodological appropriateness. The combination of
multi-sited ethnography, participant-observation, and semi-structured interviews coupled with a
strong focus on the sensorial dimension of my fieldwork, provided me with a rich methodological
toolkit. In the next chapter, I will locate natural wines within a wider analytical framework which
takes into account contemporary food trends, the rise of food activism in Europe and global
trends investing the wine sector.

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Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Locating natural wines between


contemporary appetites, food activism, and
global wine trends

“Wine. Topic for discussion among men. The best must be Bordeaux, since doctors prescribe it.
The worse it tastes, the more unadulterated it is”
Gustave Flaubert, from “The dictionary of accepted ideas” (1911)

“The age of the Bordeaux drink snob is dead”


François Dumas, Tokyo-based importer of French natural wines (Crago, 2015)

3.1 Introduction

Natural wines represent a very small portion of the broader wine sector, accounting for about 2%
of the global sales according to the wine specialist magazine Meininger’s (Lohfert, 2019). At the
same time, they constitute an elusive product category which polarises opinion and lacks a legal
reference both at national and European Union level (Rose, 2012). Often erroneously associated
to certified organic wines, with which they share the same approach to agriculture, natural wines
retain specific processual, aesthetic, ethical and philosophical attributes that make them a
category in itself. Indeed, their being “natural” refers to a series of practices and values that
differentiate these wines from organic ones. Generally speaking, these wines are portrayed as
being a step further than organic wines in terms of “naturalness”, due to the way the grapes are
cultivated in the vineyard and the wines are crafted in the cellar. In the recent volume “The
globalization of wine”, Inglis (2019) connects the emergence of natural concerns within the
globalised world of wine to wider social issues relating to climate change and environmental
crisis. As he notes, there is an increasing demand for wines which are produced according to more
environmentally-driven principles and practices, following broader trends in food consumption
occurring in the Western world.

Before delving into the intricacies of this debated category of wine in the second part of this
chapter, I will situate this kind of production within a larger framework of analysis that takes into
account some modern Western concerns over what counts for ‘good’, ‘natural’, and artisanal
food. This will allow me to describe a specific set of modern European anxieties and appetites,
including the attempts to overcome and satisfy them. As I will show, the production and

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Chapter 3

consumption of ‘good’ food is the result of wider socio-politic and economic dynamics rooted in
the rise of industrial capitalist agriculture, globalisation and the formation of the EU. I argue that
natural winegrowing intersects with these wider transformations in food production and at the
same time responds to specific trends occurring in the wine world. In the last section of the
chapter, I will trace the historical development of the European natural wine movement from its
French origins to the present day, focusing in particular on the Italian strand and its principal
social actors.

3.2 Food anonymity and the emergence of artisanal foods

The emergence of modern concerns over the food we eat on a daily basis is tightly linked to the
current dominant globalised food market and its capitalist logic of production and consumption.
The main features of this market are the result of a process of heavy industrialisation within the
food sector that has occurred for the last 60 years. Traditional agricultural methods and
timescales have been substantially reshaped by the introduction of highly specialised industrial
machinery and the application of science-based technology coupled with a capitalist logic of
production. As a result, today we are exposed to a massive amount of food, coming from every
corner of the globe at a considerably lower price. The main consequences of this drastic change in
the food sector involve the impact on the environment, the overall quality of food production and
the loss of knowledge about the origin and the content of what we eat (Pratt and Luetchford,
2014).

This main transition within the global food system, and the corresponding dangerous effects on
our health and the environment, have been the subject of popular publications in the growing
field of critical food journalism since the 2000s. Books such as Fast Food Nations by Eric Schlosser
(2001), The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan (2006), Tescopoly by Andrew Simms (2007),
and the more recent Farmageddon by Philip Lymbery (2014), have all contributed to raise
awareness among the general public about the nature of the food we eat every day, and the
industry that produces it. Schlosser’s Fast Food Nation has been so influential that it has also been
adapted into the homonymous documentary directed by Richard Linklater (2006), while the
original book has been adopted as a course reading in classes of Anthropology of Food in many
universities.

As consumers become increasingly reflexive about what lies behind food production as a
response to food scares, they seek out the food products which appear to be more closely linked
to their place of origin and context of production. Instead of mass-produced, standardised
foodstuffs which are perceived as anonymous and placeless, a growing number of consumers are

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directed towards goods that seem embedded in traceable natural and social connections and are
thus deemed as more authentic and trustworthy. The anonymity of today’s food perceived by
consumers has been countered by this increasing demand for more ‘authentic’, ‘traditional’
foodstuffs that seem to reconnect producers and consumers, thus restoring those social relations
taking place between growers and users which are nowadays jeopardised by the dominant
economic system (Wilk, 2006). This consumer behaviour is framed by some sociological literature
on alternative agri-food networks as the quality ‘turn’, and implies a transition from an ‘industrial
world’ to a ‘domestic’ one “where quality conventions embedded in face-to-face interactions,
trust, tradition and place support more differentiated, localized and ‘ecological’ products and
forms of economic organization” (Goodman, 2004: 5).

3.2.1 Artisanal food values

The social and cultural contours of this transition, as well as the implications in a return to
‘tradition’ have also been analysed by some anthropological literature. Anthropologist Harry West
(2016) highlights how the same definition of artisanal food constitutes a vague category which
responds to a modern anxiety concerning the quality of food and the consequent need of
‘authenticity’ on the part of both producers and consumers. As he notes, artisanal foods
represent a category that is constructed along specific temporalities whereby notions such as
‘small-scale’, ‘traditional’, and their opposite (‘large-scale’, ‘modern’, etc.) are subject to
transforming contexts of production and the technologies supporting them: “the line between
industrial and artisanal foods lies in the eye of the beholder. At the same time, comparison
between these categories – either explicit or implicit – is essential to ever-changing definitions of
artisanal, as the category makes sense only in relation to its constantly changing industrial other.”
(West, 2016: 409). The emergence and demand of artisanal foods has also been analysed as a
modern response to rapidly changing circumstances connected to globalisation and the political
unification of Europe, which entailed the problematic construction of a European identity. The
ethnographic example given by Terrio (1996) of French grand cru chocolate illustrates this politics
of cultural authenticity in advanced capitalism, that promotes the production, revitalisation, and
reinvention of craft commodities to counter a perceived cultural homogeneity. The production of
chocolate described by Terrio acquires value and distinction through the crafting skills of French
artisanal chocolatiers that oppose their knowledge and traditional savoir-faire to anonymous,
mass-produced chocolate candies made by foreign firms. The return to this renovated sense of
authenticity, tradition, and locality against the backdrop of significant political changes that have
invested rural development at European level, has been critically analysed through the lens of
terroir. Historically this term, which found its first application to the French wine production, has

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been deployed to define a usually circumscribed area whose soil and microclimate infuse
distinctive qualities to food products (Barham, 2003: 131). Demossier (2012) demonstrates how
the logic of terroir is key to understand the increasing demand of traditional products and
foodstuffs from modern urban consumers, and at the same time how this French concept can
shed light on some crystallised notions of culture and history that characterises the construction
of a common European identity. As she argues, “the notion of terroir has come to encapsulate the
European idea of a connection between ‘locality’ and ‘quality’ in an age that is often defined by a
sense of globalization and the loss of local authenticity. Putting emphasis on ‘tradition’,
‘authenticity’, ‘history’, ‘place’, and ‘identity’, terroir has become a governance tool to promote
specific values at the core of the so-called process of Europeanization” (Demossier, 2012: 124-
125).

As ethnographies of artisanal foods have variously analysed (Paxson, 2012; West, 2013b), the
need of reconnection underlying the production and consumption of these foods is articulated as
a desire to reconnect with the natural ecologies where food is grown, the social and cultural
ecologies which meaningfully produce it, as well as with people’s own bodily self. In a more or less
direct manner, both producers and consumers enjoy a renewed engagement with the natural and
social environment where ‘real’, ‘healthy’, and ‘traditional’ foods are crafted. The same craft
involved allows for the revitalisation of sensorial skills, learning processes based on hands-on
attempts or transmission from experienced artisans, leading as a result to an intimate rediscovery
of one’s own self. Taste is then not only the evidence of a more genuine, transparent mode of
production (‘it tastes good’), but it also shapes the process of crafting food, especially those
products such as cheese (and wine) which require the interplay of living substances such as yeasts
and bacteria.

These ‘craft foods’, as part of a wider range of alternatives to the industrial food market produced
by different alternative agri-food chains or movements, are based on a pre-set discourse of
romantic tradition that opposes the local, artisanal, authentic, etc. to ‘modernity’ and its
corresponding attributes such as progress, technology, mass-production, etc. Using ‘locality’ and
‘authenticity’ as lenses to examine how alternative food movements add value to speciality
products, Pratt (2007) highlights that the romantic image of a rural past is key to sell foodstuffs
that seem to bear the unique mark of local (and timeless) traditions. As a result, the value
acquired by these products seems to escape at times the dominant exchange form, acquiring non-
monetary connotations. This new engagement with food is based on constructed notions of
‘nature’, ‘craftmanship’, and ‘authenticity’ that come to compete, and sometimes combine with,
scientific notions of health and naturalness.

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As the ethnographic study conducted by Meneley (2007) shows, the construction of extra-virgin
olive oil as a natural product is the result of a complex dynamic that comprises medico-scientific
parameters, culinary-aesthetic values, and artisanal techniques of distinction. Against the
anonymous mass-production of olive oil traded by multinationals, extra-virgin olive oil produced
in the Mediterranean area is presented as the result of a long tradition of artisanal techne
stretching back to Greek mythology. Moreover, the naturally occurring fats and antioxidants
contained in olive oil are praised by researchers, health professionals, and cosmetic firms to
construct the image of olive oil as a natural and healthy product, as well as a key ingredient of the
“Mediterranean Diet”. While the technological process tends to get obscured, the artisanal
techne is emphasised to gain distinction and add value to the product. To determine the extra-
virgin quality and obtain a DOP certification, aesthetic and sensory evaluations are made by
trained olive tasters. As a result, extra-virgin olive oil comes to be appreciated as a (healthy) work
of art that seems to be produced through a timeless tradition which bears cultural and aesthetic
capital.

3.2.2 The European food scandals and the process of food regulation

In recent times, a series of crises related to the industrial production of food in Europe led to a
process of reorganisation and regulation of the food sector, as well as the concomitant rise of
transnational movements with food activism at the core of their agendas. Starting from the late
1980s, food scandals such as the spread of BSE (known also as ‘mad cow disease’), E. coli and
dioxin contamination in feed and poultry brought to the fore key issues connected to the
industrial food supply and its functioning. As a result, consumers’ confidence in the quality of the
food purchased in supermarkets and other retailers dropped down, causing a major process of
reorganisation of the food sector at both national and EU institutional level (Harvey, McMeekin
and Warde, 2004). In a moment where concerns over the negative effects of fast food on obesity
and the politics of GMOs were animating the public debate at a national and international level,
these food crises triggered a whole series of dynamics which led to the emergence of new social
and political actors both inside and outside of the institutional sphere.

As consumers became increasingly aware of the potential risks of food diseases, they lost their
confidence in the industrial food supply chain and started to apply a critical scrutiny to what had
been previously considered as safe food (Lien, 2004). The same consumers assumed indeed an
important role as the main recipients of new policies on food safety. At an institutional level, both
national and EU governments had to respond to what was publicly deemed as a policy failure over
the safety of the final food product. At EU level, that entailed a whole process of revision and
rationalisation of the existing body of food law, as well as the creation of standards of quality. The

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aim was to reorganise the existing legislation covering the entire food supply chain, paying
particular attention to the side of production, including animal feed and the processing and
manufacturing of food. What happened was a major shift towards a ‘farm to fork’ policy, which
was declined around the key notions of “safety” and “risk”. As part of this institutional action, in
2003 the European Commission created the European Food Safety Authority (EFSA), an
independent food agency whose main objective was to identify risk and communicate with the
public (Barling, 2004).

Seeking for a closer connection between consumption and production, food quality was thus
fundamentally framed in terms of food safety, in particular on microbial food safety, for the
consumer. That entailed the dominance of the scientific discourse as the only legitimate voice
capable to give relevant advice on food safety issues (Heller, 2002). Due to this science-based
approach, other qualitative measures of food, such as its cultural and environmental dimensions
did not gain the same representation within the new regulation. At the same time, food
provenance and authenticity became new indicators of food quality that would guarantee a
better connection between the consumer and the producer. Local foodstuffs, that is food with a
traceable origin or marked by a recognisable provenance came to acquire new added value within
an increasingly liberal international market. At the same time though, the production of artisanal
foodstuffs (such as cheese), which are made in working environments characterised by intense
microbial activity, were hindered by the new EU food law. Centred on an overarching science-
based notion of safety, the new European hygiene rules negatively impacted on a whole range of
artisanal food practices connected to specific areas and cultural traditions.

3.3 The rise of food activism

In this European scenario, where the institutional reorganisation of the food sector took the form
of a process of normative standardisation, new grassroots movements have given voice to wider
public concerns over the negative effects of food industrialisation on the environment, and a
perceived growing homogenisation and standardisation of food. Despite their different agendas,
these transnational movements (farmers groups, animal rights activists, anti GMOs,
environmentalists, etc.) are animated by the same fears and discontent about the production and
consumption of industrial food. Seeking closer connections between producers and consumers,
they have proposed alternative forms of economic and political action centred on food activism.
By this term, Counihan and Siniscalchi (2014) refer to a broader range of discourses and practices
undertaken at different scales by political activists, farmers, restaurateurs, producers, and
consumers whose common goal is to change the way food is produced, distributed, and
consumed. In their efforts to make the food system more democratic, sustainable, and better in

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quality, some of these movements have framed their discourse and action around those cultural
and social dimensions of food which had been overlooked by the EU legislation and the global
industrial food system at large.

According to Murdoch and Miele (2004), modern consumers not only privilege products that
retain the natural and social marks of their environments of production, but they also want to
establish a connection between themselves and the object of consumption. They desire a new
engagement with natural qualities lost in industrial production, as well as social and cultural
qualities embedded in local artisanal traditions. Achieving that requires a new aesthetic
relationship with food that replaces conventional market aesthetics, and highlights alternative
conceptions of food quality. As Murdoch and Miele argue, “new social movements frequently play
a key role in adjudicating over notions of quality. They attempt to broaden quality criteria in order
to incorporate the environmental, social and cultural impacts of production and consumption.”
(2002: 163). Food movements such as Slow Food, organic farmers associations, and Fair Trade
operate within this changing scenario, promoting a renovated sensibility towards food
appreciation through an alternative aesthetic that is based on a sense of connectedness.

The examples of Slow Food and the French farmers movement led by José Bové in the 2000s, can
be read as bottom-up responses to a variety of public concerns that tackle regulatory schemes
and forms of capitalistic exploitation perceived as threatening the health and safety of consumers
as well as existing local cultural practices and human-environmental relationships. Following
different strategies, Slow Food and the Farmers Confederation led by Bové have framed their
discourses around food highlighting a definition of quality that connects social and cultural values
to locality. In their effort to do that, both movements have relied on terroir and its logic of giving
value to the connection between single localities and their intrinsic qualities. For this reason, I
have chosen to describe them more in depth, as they enable me to extend the discussion to the
wine sector in the second part of this chapter. On one hand, the political claims advanced by Bové
are inscribed within a specifically French cultural system, from which terroir emerged historically.
According to Gade (2004), it is no coincidence that France represents the country “where the
wisdom of the globalization trends overtaking the world has received its most persistent critique.
This European land of artisan tradition, well-defined local specificity, and culinary refinement had
led the world in the search for ways to ensure and develop authenticity of food production”
(Gade, 2004: 848). On the other hand, Slow Food has adapted the French terroir model to the
Italian landscape in order to promote the quality and uniqueness of Italian gastronomy. The fact
that one of the first campaigns of Slow Food involved the Italian wine sector might be read as
evidence of how the French model has been borrowed by discourse around local quality and
authenticity.

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3.3.1 The French debate on GMOs

The intensive application of science and technology to food production, notably in the
development of genetically modified organisms (GMOs), was one of the main causes of public
concern on food safety during the 1990s. In France the debate over the impacts of GMOs took the
form of a huge protest led by the activist and farmer José Bové. As Heller (2002) shows, at the
beginning the debate over the evaluation of GMOs was framed through what she has termed a
‘risk’ discourse: a set of argumentations dominated by scientific expertise which was considered
as the only legitimate voice on the matter. National research institutions, regulatory bodies, as
well as corporate development bodies, such as Monsanto-France, were in turn part of a wider
European and international ‘risk’ network, which framed the discussion over the GMOs through
the scientific notions of ‘risk’ and ‘safety’. Different activist groups and NGOs organisations united
against the use of GMOs, adopted the same scientific objective register to legitimate their claims
within the national and international political arena. As a result, other socio-cultural frames, such
as food quality, were automatically excluded due to their ‘non-expert’ status.

The second phase of the debate (1999-2001) was instead driven by the Confédération Paysanne
(CP), a union of French self-identified peasant farmers that managed to shift the discourse around
GMOs from scientific hegemony to paysan expertise. Highlighting cultural and social issues
connected to food and stressing the negative impact of post-war industrialized agricultural policy,
the confederation assumed a key role within the wider international anti-globalisation network
constituted by different anti-GMOs activist groups, environmental, and indigenous NGOs and
farmers movements such as La Vía Campesina. At the core of the CP’s anti-GMOs campaign there
was the struggle to defend the rights of farmers and workers against the use of biotechnology in
agriculture, which translated into a larger political agenda opposing a symbolic pre-industrial
peasantry to modern capitalist forms of power and exploitation. Instead of embracing a scientific
register to tackle the issue of GMOs, the CP shifted the discourse on a notion of ‘nature’ as
inherently interwoven into culture, contrarily to the implicit divide put forward by the previous
‘risk’ hegemony. Drawing on a French understanding of ‘nature’ as a cultural and social category,
the CP managed to set the terms of a legitimate discourse based on paysan expertise, gaining
public involvement. As Heller explains,

for the CP, the paysan preserves nature by knowing and caring for le paysage: by
working and transforming the earth into a productive and meaningful landscape. […] the
CP points to the notion of paysan as producer and manager of the rural economy - as
well as steward of nature whose cultural expertise preserves the land for future
generations. (Heller, 2002: 19)

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In doing so, Bové could rely on a shared cultural reference to terroir and the power it has in giving
distinction to French regional food products. Roquefort cheese in this sense embodies all different
components that constitute terroir in its most expanded definition, that is an integration of
natural elements and human factors (Gade, 2004). In the production of Roquefort cheese what is
celebrated is indeed a unique combination of specific microbiological, geographical, technical, and
cultural elements. What gave a huge popularity to the political claims advanced by the CP was the
protest against the construction of a McDonald’s in the town of Millau in southwestern France in
summer 1999. At the head of the protest was the leader of the CP, farmer and activist José Bové.
Son of two scientists working in the USA, Bové was educated in Berkeley and later became a
sheep farmer in Larzac, in the Dordogne region renowned for the production of Roquefort cheese.
During the protest in summer 1999, Bové was followed by one hundred other sheep farmers who
manifested their dissent about the extra tariff posed on French agricultural products such as
Roquefort cheese by the US government.1 José Bové was imprisoned by the French police and
that event marked his rise as national hero against US food homologation, as well as anti-global
activist worldwide.

As Bodnár (2003) argues, the opposition staged by Bové and his affiliates between Roquefort and
the Big Mac is not merely an opposition between localism and globalisation, as the two products
being commodities equally enmeshed into the global economy. At the core of the dispute lies
instead what she calls a ‘taste differential’: the small-scale artisanal production of Roquefort
cheese locates the product into a well-defined cultural and social space where taste takes on
cultural and democratic connotations (Bodnár, 2003: 139). In France having a good taste means
possessing cultural expertise to appreciate good food, or la bouffe in French. That is food which
has been produced according to local or regional agricultural savoir-faire. The latter is entangled
in specific localities and guarantees transparency and diversity, contrarily to the anonymity of
standardised food whose processes of production remain mainly obscured to consumers. As a
result, Bové claims, the production of Roquefort is more democratic compared to the Big Mac
counterpart exactly because of the way it is made and what it affords, the right to food diversity.
The Big Mac is instead a symbol of what he terms malbouffe, the negation of that combination of
cultural pleasure and agricultural knowledge. It is in this taste differential and the right to have
traceable food that the rhetoric of Bové manages to legitimate the higher price of Roquefort on
the market, eluding that way the accusation of food elitism. As Bodnár aptly argues when
describing the French cheese and the American burger, “the difference between the two kinds of

1
This decision of the US government was interpreted as a retaliation for the EU’s decision not to import US
hormone-treated beef.

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global connectedness lies in the niches Roquefort and Big Mac occupy in the political economy
and in the symbolism of global production and consumption” (2003: 137). Roquefort cheese is a
distillate of French local agricultural tradition and, at the same time, it becomes the symbol of
paysan survival and resistance to food and cultural homologation at a larger scale.

Making good use of globalisation, Bové has emphasised common socio-economic issues affecting
different areas across of the world controlled by the industrial food industry. Through a strong
focus on locality, the CP’s leader has given voices to multiple localities all connected to and
affected by the same economic system. As it will also be clear when discussing Slow Food and its
founder Carlo Petrini, Bové was successful as he managed to express anti-global stances while not
rejecting the same global conditions that allow the trade of Roquefort, acknowledging instead the
intricate global connections between local production and global consumption. Bové himself is a
mixture of apparently clashing categories: an educated man and a sheep farmer by choice, a
defender of the local production of cheese in Larzac although he is not originary from that region;
a peasant and simultaneously a globe-trotter activist.

3.3.2 Slow Food

Crossing the border and coming to Italy, Slow Food is certainly another leading actor within this
socio-political field of action. Slow Food is an international movement which currently counts
hundreds of thousands of members in over 150 countries, grouped into local chapters and
actively engaged in promoting Slow Food’s philosophy.2

The movement finds its origins in Piedmont, one of most famous winegrowing regions of Italy.
Founded in 1986 by Carlo Petrini (a sociologist by background, and food and wine expert), the
movement had in fact a close connection to the world of wine from its beginning. During the
1980s the region was the scene of an unprecedented scandal of wine adulteration that caused the
death of about twenty people and a major crisis in the Italian wine economy. This event is known
as the “methanol wine scandal”. Some producers from Piedmont and Emilia-Romagna regions
added excessive amounts of methanol to increase the alcoholic level of their wines, which in turn
resulted to be highly poisonous. Slow Food took a strong position against the adulteration of
wine, and advocated for quality in wine production.

As both Leitch (2003) and Siniscalchi (2014) have observed, Slow Food has always had a two-fold
agenda, being at the same time a political and economic actor. Petrini and the other founders of
the movement belonged to those Italian left-wing circles who had experienced the turmoil of

2
www.slowfood.com

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the ’68 movement and had been actively involved in the Italian Communist Party and other extra-
parliamentary political groups. The same Slow Food Manifesto first appeared on the pages of the
Italian left-wing newspaper Il Manifesto in 1987. Using a snail as a logo, the founders of Slow Food
harshly criticised industrial food, the growing standardisation of taste and the modern lifestyle
epitomised by fast food. Against the restlessness of modern life, Petrini and his associates
formulated a poetics of ‘slowness’ centred on the notion of pleasure. As it can be read in their
original manifesto: “Our movement is in favour of sensual pleasure to be practised and enjoyed
slowly. Through Slow Food, which is against homogenizing effects of fast foods, we are
rediscovering the rich variety of tastes and smells of local cuisine. And it is here, in developing an
appreciation of these tastes, that we will be able to rediscover the meaning of culture” (Slow Food
Manifesto in Leitch, 2003).

The ‘right to pleasure’ advocated by Slow Food is intrinsically connected to conviviality, to an idea
of shared and collective enjoyment which bears a political significance. Consumption of good food
and wine entails a community of people who are sensually engaged in appreciating and valuing
local tastes which hold cultural significance. In order to form this social base of conscious
consumers, Slow Food has since the beginning engaged in different types of commercial initiatives
that promote taste education. Slow Food Editore, the movement’s publishing house, was founded
at the beginning of 1990 with the idea of disseminating the association’s core values through
books on Italian food and wine, travel guides specialised on cultural tourism, and handbooks on
tasting techniques. As part of this effort, Slow Food has involved primary schools into a series of
food projects and created other taste education programmes, culminating with the recent
creation of a university entirely devoted to the multi-disciplinary study of food.3

It was during the food scandals of the mid-1990s and early 2000s, that the movement stretched
its horizons and became an international political actor engaged in the protection of so-called
‘endangered foods’. Drawing from the biblical story of Noah, Slow Food indeed created the Ark of
Taste in 1996, a catalogue of agricultural products and food production systems threatened by
industrialization, climate change, new consumption trends, and migration from rural areas.4
Against a process of food standardisation dictated by the imperatives of safety and hygiene, Slow
Food stood up as the defender of threatened artisanal food products by promoting their
conservation, valorisation, and presence on the market. In so doing, it approached the sphere of
production more consistently and, in particular, it initiated collaborations with those local and

3
The University of Gastronomic Sciences was founded in 2004 and it is based in Pollenzo, a small village in
Piedmont close to Slow Food’s headquarters located in Bra.
4
https://www.fondazioneslowfood.com/en/what-we-do/the-ark-of-taste/

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artisanal producers whose work came to represent the resistance to industrial food production
and taste homogenisation.

The rediscovery of local tastes eloquently claimed in the Slow Food manifesto, involves in fact a
politics of place that defends the diversity of regional landscapes and cultural heritage associated
to artisanal practices rooted in specific localities. Food is linked to material cultures of production
which date back to an ideal past untouched by the present dangers of capitalism. In so doing,
Slow Food has borrowed the French model of terroir (“territorio” in Italian), adjusting and using it
to the valorisation of Italian wines, cheeses, and other food products. As Pratt argues, “the Slow
Food Movement recognized early on that the wine trade of Burgundy was better organized than
that of Piedmont because of the French concept of terroir and its regulatory frames. Through it,
they sold not just a wine but a whole world” (Pratt, 2007: 291-292). In order to taste ‘good’, food
then must be produced taking into account existing local ecologies of production. In Slow Food’s
key triad, ‘clean’ indeed points to the respect of the environment which entails those local and
artisanal techniques that preserve the typicity of food products and their unique taste, as well as
environmental biodiversity. Together with ‘fair’, that relates to social justice for producers, these
three interconnected principles delineate a moral economy that encompasses not only producers
and consumers, but also the environment (Siniscalchi, 2014).

At the end of 1990s, Slow Food praesidia were introduced as a way to give economic viability to a
series of small-scale, high-quality productions which were threatened by the EU food safety
legislation and hygiene rules. As Siniscalchi (2013) argues, praesidia reflect the double nature of
Slow Food as a movement which is active both in the political and economic arena. Besides being
the result of a process of labelling, whereby a selected list of ‘endangered food’ are traded using a
specific Slow Food label, praesidia represent the means through which alternative economic and
political spaces can be considered.

On one hand, the limited production of these artisanal foods come to be sold on the market with
an added value justified by their unicity. On the other hand, this increased price gives recognition
to the efforts and knowledge behind this kind of artisanal production and shows that quality
comes with a cost. Moreover, through praesidia Slow Food acts as a regulatory body which
sometimes intersects the work done by the State and the EU over matters of food labelling. The
movement provides small producers with strict protocols which regulate areas, times, and
techniques of production, as well as quantity levels. As many of these praesidia are not already
protected by designations of origin due to their small scale and reduced economic relevance, Slow
Food results to be the only actor functioning as a ruling body. The situation is different when Slow
Food applies its regulations on products already covered by larger EU food appellations: in these

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cases, Slow Food norms represent an additional regulation that is actively sought after by small
producers seeking distinction and a better market competitivity. Acting as a stricter regulatory
body, Slow Food thus becomes an antagonist to the State which applies EU regulations
(Siniscalchi, 2013).

The same two biannual fairs organised by Slow Food, Salone del Gusto and Terra Madre, combine
economic and political elements. During those occasions, consumers can physically meet
producers and buy a whole range of products from them, thus contributing financially to the
association’s revenues. At the same time, the two salons represent an important political
platform through which the movement communicates its philosophy and achieves international
visibility.

As noted by different scholars who have analysed critically Slow Food and its agenda (Chrzan,
2004; Laudan, 2004), the complex and varied nature of this movement exposes itself to some
internal contradictions. Slow Food is an international movement promoting alternative economic
and political spaces, while operating within a neo-liberal market that can transform praesidia
products into gourmet delicacies that are not accessible to everyone. The movement’s ideal
political aspirations are somehow constrained by the concrete actions it takes as an association
which needs to be economically viable and negotiate with other political powers. Despite the fact
that Slow Food emerged as a movement extremely critical about the industrial food supply and its
homologizing effects, it has nevertheless adapted some aspects of the global neo-liberal
economy, within which the production and consumption of food are currently inscribed. Using
Petrini’s own expression, the ‘virtuous globalisation’ promoted by Slow Food takes advantage of
the increased possibilities of global connectedness to grow awareness about sustainable systems
of production, potentially leading to a better-informed market demand as well as closer
relationships between small farmers and consumers (Leitch, 2009).

The way Petrini and his associates have successfully reconfigured the notions of food production,
distribution and consumption through an emphasis on the social and cultural values of food, has
allowed Slow Food to become a powerful international political actor able to catalyse media
attention and dialogue with national and international organisms concerned with food regulation.
In the current ‘cultural economy’ that has invested rural localities (Ray, 1998), Slow Food has
undeniably contributed in reconfiguring new dynamics between local producers and global
consumers, where food plays a crucial role. Food movements such as Slow Food have brought to
the fore alternative articulations of quality that simultaneously respond to, and have an impact
on, consumers’ attitude towards food and the market more generally.

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3.4 Wine: a parallel story

As we have seen so far, the rediscovery of artisanal food products is tightly linked to major shifts
that have invested society, such as globalisation, the emergence of a European identity, and the
consequent structuring of new legal and economic frameworks. In particular, the (negative)
effects of the industrialisation of the food sector and a sense of cultural homogeneity resulted
from the combined forces of globalisation and Europeanization, has led consumers to look for a
sense of renovated rootedness and authenticity through their food choices (Demossier, 2000). In
this process, the appeal to terroir was fundamental to the creation of GIs (Geographical
Indications) at the European level in the 1990s. The EU regulations of 1992 (then updated in 2012)
introduced a new legal framework to label food products specifying their geographical origin and
process of production.5 As a result, GIs were legally recognised as a form of intellectual collective
property, creating major tensions within the World Trade Organization as it did not align with the
American concept of trademark based as it is on individual ownership (Barham, 2003; Demossier,
2012).

3.4.1 Terroir and the development of the French AOC

This kind of regulation was modelled on the already existing French system of Appellation
d’Origine Contrôlée (AOC), which was created in 1935 and where terroir had found its first legal
application. The AOC system of denomination was historically the result of the political battles
fought by French winegrowers and property landowners against wine merchants (négociants),
who had dominated the French wine market until then. In particular, a series of frauds and
adulteration scandals during the economic crisis of the early 20th century were attributed to these
wine merchants, who were accused of using the names of famous wine regions such as
Champagne and Burgundy to name wines obtained by cheaper extraterritorial grapes (Carter,
2017: 487; Demossier, 2011).

The AOC hierarchical classification of wines used terroir as the main organizing principle around
which building a rigid association between circumscribed geographical areas and the taste (and
quality) of the wines produced there (Moran, 1993). During the same year, in 1935, it was also
created a semi-governmental institution called INAO (Institut National des Appellations d’Origine).
Its main function was to give legitimacy to the protocols of production issued by winegrowers and

5
The Regulation (EU) No 1151/2012 on quality schemes for agricultural products and foodstuffs replaced
the previous EU regulations on the subject and introduced two new designations and logos: Protected
Denomination of Origin (PDO) and Protected Geographical Indication (PGI), respectively.

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landowners and institutionalise a definition of quality which was shaped around the idea that
historically dominant producers created superior wines. In this way, specific land plots were
attributed a higher status and their allegedly superior quality was legitimised (Trubek, Guy and
Bowen, 2010; Fourcade, 2012).As Fourcade (2012: 533) argues, “by embedding the terroir system
into law through immutable classifications, the social status that certain land tracts had acquired
through socially exclusive patterns of ownership and expensive modes of cultivation […] became
literally ‘naturalized’, as if their claims to distinction came, first, from the blessing of nature”.
Nowadays, INAO still plays an intermediary role between the local wine unions applying for the
AOC designation and the French Ministry of Agriculture which finally legitimises the successful
dossiers. As Barham (2003: 133-134) aptly describes, the whole procedure is a multi-level process
of negotiations from the local level to the state which involves different social actors and various
professional expertise. The AOC model became the main jurisdictional tool to regulate wine
production and, at the same time, secure the inimitability and economic success of French wines
and, by large, French landscape. Despite its rigid constitution, the AOC system has gradually
included new winegrowing areas and nowadays more than 400 wines have gained the prestigious
AOC status. Besides wine, other French agricultural products are now protected by an AOC
designation of origin. In these cases, the AOC recognition exalts not only the natural features of
food products but also their cultural, collective and historical ties to locality, in line with recent
processes of patrimonialization that have invested primarily rural France, but also other European
countries (Gade, 2004).

3.4.2 The French debate on the AOC system

Despite the growing success of discourses and practices of heritagization centred on terroir and
the corresponding legal devices of geographical authentication across Europe, the French AOC
system has recently been questioned by groups of French winegrowers committed to the
production of terroir wines. Teil (2014;2017) describes how in the early 2000s a number of French
vintners challenged the AOC’s ability to properly identify and protect the terroir quality of their
wines. According to these producers, the French system of appellations and in particular the
tasting commissions in charge to judge and interpret the authenticity of their wines proved
incompetent and unreliable. Their wines were indeed excluded from appellations as they were
not considered typical enough. At the centre of this debate, Teil (2014) argues, lies the
problematic double nature of the AOC system as a regulatory regime that both protects
intellectual creativity without any specific reference to quality (that is the wines annually crafted
by winegrowers working in designated areas), and at the same time should specify and guarantee
the quality of these products on the market. In particular the notion of typicity has always been

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problematic as it is not something that can be objectively measured and it instead rests on
collective judgments made by a panel of experts.6 When the AOC regulations were created in
1935, compulsory specifications for viticultural and winemaking practices (such as pruning
methods, choice of grape varieties, maximum yield per hectare, etc.) were designed to protect
the quality of the wines produced under an appellation. A stringent control over the practices
adopted in the vineyard and in the cellar were deemed sufficient to produce quality wines, as
their favourable geographical location was already acting as the main guarantee of their superior
quality. A specific sensorial assessment of their typicity through a complimentary tasting was
introduced in the 1970s, when the international success of the AOC system raised doubts about
its capacity to provide consumers with real guarantees of quality which could justify the
significant price difference between ordinary wines and AOC protected wines. Since then, the
attention over quality shifted from the viticultural practices and winemaking techniques adopted
by winegrowers to the final wine, whose taste became the main object of judgments formulated
by panels of experts (Teil, 2017). The recent dispute on the AOC system’s ability to assess the
expression of terroir in wine has developed from the consequences of that shift. The latter indeed
caused a lack of interest in the practices conducted in the vineyard, which instead have been
recently put forward by those producers challenging the reliability of the AOC norms. In a
changing scenario that has seen the increasing application of new chemical substances in the
vineyard and oenological innovations in the cellar leading to a generalised standardisation of
tastes, the concerns raised by these producers have put under scrutiny the sensorial criteria to
assess the quality of wine through its taste. The debate presents two opposed factions of
winegrowers who endorse two different interpretations of terroir and two distinct notions of
heritage attached to the AOC. On one side there are producers who interpret terroir as an asset
and an a priori guarantee of quality, so the link between a specific place and the superior taste of
its products does not need further legitimation. As Moran (1993) argues in this regard, AOCs are
founded upon notions of environmental determinism whereby “(i)n all wine regions, the physical
environmental attributes of the defined territory of the appellation have been literally and
uncritically transferred to the wine made there” (1993: 701). According to this perspective, the
AOC should just signal to consumers the particular geographical determination which functions as
a sufficient guarantee of the quality of the wine produced in that specific appellation. Terroir is
then a natural condition which simply needs to be reproduced by the winegrower every year by
simply adhering to the specifications set for each denomination. On the other side there is a
group of producers who challenge this conceptualisation of terroir and the corresponding

6
These panels are generally composed by oenologists or trained tasters with a technical background in the
wine or food sector, and are included on regional lists officially recognised by the Ministry of Agriculture.

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function of the AOC as a quality indicator. For them, the expression of terroir can only be judged a
posteriori, and typicity is framed as the result of a creative process of production which engages
both the vineyard and the winegrower in any coming vintage. The vintner is seen as an interpreter
or a translator who needs to decipher the terroir’s message and does so by attuning her working
practices and sensitivity to the specificities of the vineyard and the vintage. As Teil (2012) argues,
terroir is a multifaceted notion that eschews a pre-formulated definition due to its alternative
mode of existence. For these reasons, it should be better conceived as a “product-object”, that is
an object which is inseparable from its process of production and whose existence is distributed
across a multiplicity of different winegrowers working in the same circumscribed area. According
to this group of producers then, the AOC should recognise and protect the unpredictability and
creativity connected to their work and at the same time constantly monitor the practices and
ethos adopted by winegrowers (including the rejection of pesticides in the vineyard and chemical
adjuvants in the cellar) to make sure a real commitment to terroir is pursued. This accreditation to
winegrowers and their practices should be complemented by a judgment on the taste of the
wines examined which include a broader range of experienced tasters interested in terroir
(producers, critics, journalists, restaurateurs, etc.). Just as terroir is the result of a collective and
distributed process of production, so the judgment of its taste is a collective and distributed
process which remains open to discussion amongst those involved. While typicity remains difficult
to define in positive and objective terms even at this stage, for these producers a partial solution
could be to train the tasters’ palate to approach what were once considered as wine faults (such
as volatile acidity and oxidation), as the result of the non-interventionist practices adopted by the
winegrower in the vineyard and in the cellar. Being recognised as “relative” faults should provide
tasters with a more contextualised understanding of the work of producers and their ethos.

3.4.3 The globalisation of wine

While the terroir model has been translated into new regulatory frameworks and applied
successfully to rural development policies across different European countries as a way to protect
the quality of agricultural products (West, 2013a), its hegemony within the wine sector has
eroded since the 1970s. The famous blind tasting organised by the British wine merchant Steven
Spurrier in 1976, also known as the “Judgement of Paris”, has come to represent the key historical
event that marked the end of France’s absolute supremacy in the production of high-end wines.
The blind tasting featured French and Californian wines and the panel was comprised of
renowned French wine experts. Some Californian wines surprisingly scored higher than well-
renown French wines in both the white and red wine categories. The so-called Old World, that
refers to traditional European wine-producing countries (in particular France and Italy), had until

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then relied on the symbolic and cultural capital accumulated through centuries of fine wine
production and trade. The AOC model and its hierarchical structure had been the unique point of
reference for the classification of fine wines and its main organizing principle, terroir, had
guaranteed exclusivity and competitive advantage. The rest of the world’s wine regions (the so-
called New World), could not rely on that long and prestigious history of distinction and then set
their own wine market by emphasising the role of technology applied to wine production, as well
as introducing the varietal labelling and more democratic judgment devices (Fourcade, 2012;
Howland, 2013; Smith Maguire, 2018). A major figure in this process of democratisation of wine
has been the famous US wine critic Robert Parker and his 100-point classification system. A
former lawyer from Maryland, Parker has built his fame by approaching wine tasting in an
extremely subjective fashion. Deeming the French system of classification as elitist and anti-
democratic and rejecting the naturalistic and auto-referential logic of terroir, Parker has
introduced a more liberal (and American) way of conferring distinction to fine wines: his own
individual taste. Until then, tasting wines to make judgements about their quality had not
represented as a profession external to the context of production and distribution, instead it had
been practised by committees of growers, brokers and wine merchants. Rather than challenging
established hierarchies of taste based on the terroir logic, the main objective would be in fact to
re-affirm them in ritualistic ways (Fourcade, 2012: 538).

Within a changing global scenario that sees the emergence of new producing countries with a
relatively recent history in viticulture and transformations in consumption patterns investing
traditional wine-producing areas, the process of social distinction characterising the Old World of
wine has changed too. On one hand, the New World has tried to translate the French concept of
terroir folding it within an enlarged notion of provenance that includes emphasis on regionality,
small-scale production and the personality of the winemaker (Smith Maguire, 2018: 8-9). That has
been possible due to the flexible and ambiguous nature of the terroir concept that can
accommodate opposing categories within it: terroir is thought to be both natural and cultural,
physical and human at the same time. It is about magnifying the particular nature of a place
through the work of humans (Daynes, 2013), but at the same time “it glosses over the highly
problematic nature of what is ‘real’, ‘true’, ‘natural’. The role of human agents and technology are
sequestered, ignoring the inevitably changing nature of knowledges and technologies over time,
recognition of which jeopardises claims about an unchanging physical, social and technical order.”
(Inglis, 2015: para. 20)

On the other hand, traditional producing countries such as France and Italy have witnessed a
constant decrease in regular wine consumption, which is accompanied by transformations in the
way wine is consumed. In the context of an increasingly individualistic society where wine

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consumption is more and more defined as an occasional practice characterised by fragmentation


and growing social differentiation, drinking wine can be framed as a quest for identities
(Demossier, 2010). If in France the “wandering” drinker has signalled the emergence of this new
and eclectic wine culture (Demossier, 2005), in the New World the figure of the ‘new consumer’
has been purposely constructed by a coalition of business professionals and academics supported
by powerful wine companies and national governments. The ‘new consumer’ is portrayed as a
middle-class person, oriented towards easy-to-drink bottles of wines, whose grape varietal and
aromas are clearly stated on the label. This type of drinker does not need the sophisticated
knowledge and cultural capital that allow the Old World wine connoisseur to decipher cryptic
labels and understand complex wines. This broad marketing operation which was mainly
prompted by the US, Australia and South Africa, was disseminated by a range of different actors
through international conferences, specialist journals, and commercial campaigns, with the aim of
forging a New World imaginary around drinking wine. For their part, plant scientists and
biochemists supported the idea of an interventionist approach to winemaking, which would
guarantee stable and consistent wines through the use of selected yeasts and technological
processes such as filtration. The reliability of the brand replaced the idea of provenance and
terroir as the main criteria to appreciate wine.

This major shift in the production and consumption of wine affected the EU policies on the matter
in 2006, leading to an ‘industrial’ model of winemaking to the detriment of small-scale, artisanal
wineries (Inglis, 2019: 35-36). In terms of taste, the industrial wine produced through the support
of technological innovations and oenological practices led to a standardisation of styles and
aromas across the different wine-producing countries. Relying on oenological additives and
technological manipulations in the cellar, wine producers could escape the unpredictability of
nature and offer consumers a consistent product year by year. As it is provocatively presented in
the documentary Mondovino by Jonathan Nossiter (2004), the increasing industrialisation of the
modern wine sector has transformed wine into a characterless, standardised commodity. Within
this now global sector, an influential role is played by the so-called “flying winemakers”, leading
wine experts and oenologists traveling around the world to offer consultancy and disseminate the
technical knowledge acquired in world leading research centres such as Stellenbosch in South
Africa and the University of California, Davis. This transnational community of experts, often
supported by a rich social capital that enables them to connect easily to investors, wine critics,
and organisers of major wine fairs, contribute to the standardisation of styles and the promotion
of an internationally accepted wine aesthetic. World-renown, globe-trotter oenologists such as
the French Michel Rolland, create what Lagendijk (2004) terms the “inter-connected locales” of
the globalised wine world. A world that is comprised of different local realities that get connected

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through transnational networks of key actors disseminating the same technical knowledge, ideas,
and practices.

Within this scenario, a global hierarchy of wine values has come to dominate the cultural circuits
of the sector and, at the same time, affect the practices of local wine producers. The cultural
authority displayed by global tasters, wine critics and oenologists, who possess a common
knowledge and means of communication to mediate and reproduce the sensory experience of
tasting wine, dictates the way the latter is valued in the global arena. As in the ethnographic case
described by Jung (2014), Bulgarian winemakers strive to give their wines international
recognition through the promotion of their unique (and unknown) terroir and autochthonous
grape varieties. To do so, they try to align with a notion of quality that has less to do with the
intrinsic characteristics of their wines, and more to do with “the recognition of a discernible
difference [that] is the basis for a hegemonic taste knowledge of place-based foods” (Jung, 2014:
26). Similarly to the example of the Italian extra-virgin olive oil described by Meneley (2007), the
global promotion and recognition of Bulgarian wines passes through the evaluations of panels of
experts who, through their hegemonic taste knowledge, reproduce a global hierarchy of value
(Herzfeld, 2004).

It is in this complex globalised scenario that the natural wine movement has gradually emerged as
a response to the industrialisation of the wine sector, the increasing standardisation of its
practices, and homologation of taste. Groups of European small-scale, artisanal producers have
rejected the industrial model initially proposed by the New World and later adopted at the EU
level. Before delving into the historical development of this loose movement, I will first describe
the category of natural wines in broader terms.

3.5 Natural wines

According to the International Wine and Spirits Record (IWSR), the most widely used source for
alcohol-drinking trends in the world, in a global scenario where wine consumption growth rates
remain mainly flat, organic wine represents the subcategory which is expected to increase the
most between 2017 and 2022. With 78% of the global market share, Europe is leading the sales of
organic wines, followed by the US (IWSR, 2019). Nowadays, natural wines represent a flourishing
niche product category within the larger organic wine sector both on a national and international
scale.

Generally speaking, natural winemaking is associated to small-scale, artisanal production (Goode


and Harrop, 2011). These wines are produced according to a low-intervention approach which
combines the rejection of synthetic chemical pesticides and fertilizers in the vineyard with the use

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of indigenous yeasts and zero technological manipulation in the cellar. The grapes, which are
organically grown, are hand-harvested so as to reduce the use of tractors and other agricultural
machines in the vineyard that could overly compress the soil, compromising land fertility and
polluting the surrounding environment. Harvesting manually also allows for a preliminary
selection of the grapes, which sometimes continues in the cellar prior the destemming and
crushing operations.

Due to the use of indigenous yeasts which grow naturally in the vineyard (specifically on the grape
skins), the fermentation process occurs spontaneously. This is a key aspect in the production of
natural wines, as it is said that wild yeasts confer the specific characteristics of the soil to the
wine, acting as a sort of marker of provenance. Moreover, as the fermentation process is not
begun artificially by selected yeasts, it takes usually more time allowing for the creation of
chemical compounds which are normally avoided in conventional winemaking (Rothbaum, 2006).
This can lead to higher levels of volatile acidity and a whole range of complex aromas which are
generally defined as the “weird” or “funk” characteristics of these wines (Martineau, 2015;
Cushing and Ross, 2017; Graf, 2017).

Chemical and artificial substances commonly deployed for oenological purposes, such as enzymes,
acids, vitamins, and powdered tannins are banned. The same holds for a whole range of
technological manipulations such as inverse osmosis and cryoextraction, which are said to heavily
alter the microbiological texture of wine. Clarification and filtration, which usually imply the use of
additives (such as isinglass, caseine and albumin) and invasive mechanic processes (such as
tangential and micro-filtration), are replaced by physical gravity and additional racking operations.
Finally, the amounts of sulphites (used for antioxidant and anti-bacterial purposes) are
considerably lower compared to conventional winemaking. Some natural producers choose to not
add them at all, or in small quantities just before bottling.

As a result, natural wines are often cloudy or with some sediment at the bottom of the bottle,
they vary greatly from vintage to vintage, sometimes even from bottle to bottle of the same
batch, and they are more exposed to the risk of spoilage due to minimum amounts of sulphites.
Natural wine advocates affirm that these wines are the true expression of the place where the
grapes are grown. Indeed, a greater emphasis is paid to what happens in the vineyard, as it is said
that at the core of natural winemaking is the fruit itself, the grape, which must be clean, healthy,
and properly ripened. As nothing else is added in the cellar, these producers rely mainly on the
good quality of the yield as their necessary point of departure. For this reason, one of the
recurrent mottos of these winemakers is “il vino si fa in vigna, non in cantina” (“wine is made in
the vineyard, not in the cellar”). The wine obtained is said to be “alive” or “pure”, because it has

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not been subject to artificial modifications that can alter the original substance and reduce its
microbiological component, namely naturally occurring yeasts, enzymes, and bacteria (Legeron,
2017b). Technological interventions and oenological products such as artificial aromas, oak chips
and Arabic gum that are used in conventional winemaking to create specific varietal notes and
adjust levels of acidity, sugar, and tannins are strongly banned. According to natural winemakers,
these oenological techniques “mask” the real nature of wine and as a result lead to consistent
flavours each vintage.

3.5.1 A debated category without legal recognition

When it comes to tasting natural wines, there is no middle ground: people either adore them or
find them disgusting. Within the larger wine world, and in particular among wine critics, natural
wines have been framed as a trendy phenomenon capable of attracting polarised opinions
(Asimov, 2010; Atkin, 2011a). Headed by the worldwide acclaimed wine critic Robert Parker, who
has defined natural wines as a “scam…that will be exposed as a fraud” (Parker, 2014), an army of
wine critics, writers, sommeliers, and oenologists has harshly criticized natural winemaking and in
particular its sensorial aesthetics. Degraded from the status of “wine” and equated to “flawed
cider or rotten sherry” (Palling, 2014;2017), their smell and taste have been compared to “the
whacking smell of a pigsty before it's been cleaned down, an acrid, grim burst of acid that makes
you want to cry” (Rayner, 2012). These detractors argue that natural wines are generally cloudy
and, mostly, prone to a series of what conventionally are considered serious wine faults: chemical
instability, oxidation, volatility, and high presence of Brettanomyces yeast. 7 Faults that are said to
be the direct result of the low-intervention approach adopted in the cellar, which translates into
minimum dosages of sulphites, zero addiction of selected commercial yeasts, and chemical
additives controlling the fermentation.

Paradoxically, the only common element in these disputes over natural wines seems to lie in the
difficulty of defining them. The term natural is itself problematic as there is no agreed definition
among the professionals of the wine sector over what could be defined as a natural wine
(Servabo, 2013). This is how Master of Wine Isabelle Legeron, the most influential champion of
natural wines in the world, approaches this issue:8

7
Brettanomyces are a type of yeast family, defined as spoilage yeasts by conventional winemaking. It is
characterised by barnyard, mousy and pungent aromas that add complexity and unpleasant profiles to wine
according to their quantity.
8
The title of Master of Wine is considered the most prestigious accreditation as a professional sommelier in
the larger world of wine.

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Natural wine is a continuum, like ripples on a pond. At the epicentre of these ripples are
growers who produce wines absolutely naturally – nothing added and nothing removed.
As you move away from this centre, the additions and manipulations begin, making the
wine less and less natural the further out you go. Eventually, the ripples disappear
entirely, blending into the waters of the rest of the pond. At this point the term “natural
wine” no longer applies. You have moved into the realm of the conventional. (Legeron,
2017a: 108)

A strong philosophical orientation pervades Legeron’s discussion over the definition of natural
wine. As I will describe through my ethnographic materials, many producers align with this sort of
definition and tend to eschew any fixed rules or criteria which, according to them, could lead to
the risk for natural winegrowing to be tantamount to just a method. Natural wine associations, as
I will show below, provide their members with charters of quality which translate into attempts to
define their philosophical orientation, together with more or less clear quantitative indications for
the amounts of sulphites allowed.

Even in broader legal terms, natural wines do not constitute a legally recognised product category
both in Europe and overseas, making any attempt to capture reliable statistics on this niche
market problematic (Woolf, 2016). “Natural wines” as a legal product category does not exist at
the European Community level, despite the fact that “organic wines” have been included in EU
regulations as part of a larger set of rules on organic products since 2007. Indeed, “organic wines”
and “natural wines” are two categories not entirely overlapping.

The latest set of rules issued by the European Community, Regulation (EU) No 203/2012,
represents the main legal reference only on the matter of organic wines. If we trace back the
history of the development of EU rules for wine, it can be seen how the process has been heavily
affected by conflicting political and economic interests among the state members. When EU rules
on organic food were issued in 1991, organic wine could only be sold as “wine from organic
grapes”. In 2007 the EU regulation No 847/2007 on organic production and labelling of organic
products replaced the previous definition and introduced the category “organic wine”, without
any specific implementation though. While the European organic sector was steadily expanding
and the competition from non-EU producers was growing, the Commission and member states
could not easily find a common ground over the regulation of organic wine-making, The main
reason of disagreement was about the amount of sulphites allowed, as they are deployed in
different measures across the various wine-making areas in Europe, due to geographical and
climatic reasons (IFOAM, 2013). The solution adopted in the final EU regulation No 203/2012 was

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harshly criticised by the majority of natural wine producers, as they consider their limited use of
sulphites as one of the major divides between natural and conventional winemaking.

Despite EU regulation’s objective to abolish substances that might alter “the true nature of the
organic wine” (European Commission, 2012), the use of the word “natural” to refer to a typology
of wine is still forbidden by law. As Italian wine critic Bietti (2013) points out, what was at stake
here was not merely a definition, rather the protection of specific commercial interests within the
wine sector. According to him, the outcome of these regulations was the result of negotiations
between wine lobby groups and the national governments, at an EU level. For instance, the steps
undertaken to indicate a maximum level of sulphites reflected a real concern (the negative effects
of sulphur dioxide on human organism, and consumers becoming more aware about this risk) and
the solution to the problem aimed at defending the wine industry interests. By setting a (rather
high) limit to the amounts of sulphites contained into organic wines, the law seems to stigmatise
their use but at the same time does not provide consumers with a reasonable understanding of
the real level of sulphites that can negatively impact on the human body. That way, a great
number of wines labelled as “organic” contains amounts of sulphites considerably higher
compared to their natural counterparts (see Figure 5 below for a comparison between
conventional, organic, biodynamic and natural wines). Although EU and national regulations allow
wine producers to declare the actual proportion of sulphites on their labels, there is not a
corresponding intention of making consumers aware of the differences between conventional
and natural winemaking in the use of sulphites. The official criteria set by law do not translate into
selective standards; rather, they implicitly favour the industrial wine production and the broader
commercial interests at stake in the sector.

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Figure 5 “Wine: fermented grape juice” (Author: Cédric Mendoza, 2013 for www.vinsnaturels.fr)

Finally, the issue of defining (and promoting) natural wines is problematic since the same
producers do not agree on a common definition. However, the problem seems not to merely rely
on language. As it will be shown, it discloses a whole reality made out of different positions, each
claiming its own perspective on wine production. As some wine critics have observed though, this
confusing scenario does not allow natural producers to effectively promote their wines in a
market where their conventional counterparts are more protected in terms of national and
European policies (Servabo, 2013).

3.5.2 The natural wine market

According to the specialist magazine Meininger’s Wine Business International (Lohfert, 2019), the
total production of natural wines could account for about only 2 % of global sales. Nevertheless, it
is a niche production which is growing in numbers year by year and becoming what has been
labelled as a ‘global phenomenon’ that attracts wine critics, sommeliers, chefs, and amateurs
(Woolf, 2016; Halligan, 2019). In this regard, The Guardian affirms that “in hotspots such as New
York, Copenhagen, London and Paris – where a small, fast-growing network of militant bars sell
nothing but natural- it is very much a thing” (Naylor, 2017).

In Europe the Danish market can claim the lead of natural wines consumption thanks to the
emergence of a new cuisine focused on sustainable, seasonal, food with a strong emphasis on the

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place of origin, making a perfect combination with the philosophy of natural wines. In this regard,
Copenhagen-based Michelin-starred restaurant Noma has been the most influential example of
this kind of eno-gastronomic match (Holland, 2017; Steffensen, 2017; Whitbread, 2019). I will
delve more into the connections between the so-called New Nordic culinary movements and
natural wines, for the moment though I want to explore more in general the spread of natural
wines within the European and international market.

In the UK, where the organic food sector has steadily increased over the years, registering record
levels in 2018 (Smithers, 2018), natural wines represent a blooming niche market with London as
one of the major venues in terms of wine shops, restaurants, bars and events dedicated to these
wines. The artisanal wine fair RAW, founded by the first French female Master of Wine Isabelle
Legeron in London in 2012, is gradually expanding in other key cities such as New York, Berlin, Los
Angeles and recently Montréal (Cushing, 2017).

In Germany, despite the fact that it is a country with a long-standing organic awareness, natural
wines still lack a defined position within the larger and well-developed organic wine sector. The
US market instead is quite dynamic, due to the pioneering work done by few wine critics and
distributors back in the 1990s-2000s, as it is described in the next part of the chapter. The large
number of bars and restaurants devoted to these wines which have been opened recently in cities
such as New York and Los Angeles is eloquent in this sense. The US is the second biggest importer
of natural wines; some of them can even be found on the shelves of the supermarket chain Whole
Foods Market (Woolf, 2016).

In absolute terms, Japan is the overseas country where natural wines were first commercialised
and continue to be highly appreciated. This Asiatic country is the first importer for many European
producers and its connections with the natural wine movement dates back to the early 1990s, in a
time when France was just about to lay the groundwork for the emergence of a natural wine
market (Crago, 2015). The first book ever published by a wine critic exclusively on natural wine
was written by the Japanese Master of Wine Kenichi Ohashi in 2004, nearly a decade before
Isabelle Legeron organised the first edition of RAW in a converted brewery in the gentrified area
of Shoreditch, London. The success of these wines among Japanese palates is explained as the
combination of different factors, according to various voices collected by wine critic Simon Woolf.
On one hand, the total lack of a winemaking tradition in Japan has meant an open-mind approach
to wine tasting that is key to appreciate these products per se, as a distinct category of drinks. On
the other hand, after the nuclear disaster of Fukushima in 2011 and a more general high-speed
process of industrialisation, Japanese consumers started to feel the need to reconnect to nature,

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environmental issues and rediscover a sense of rural life that had been lost especially in the
hyper-urban context of cities such as Tokyo (Demossier, 2018: Chapter 6; Woolf, 2019).

If we look at the profiles of natural wines consumers, it is immediately clear that the key words
are: young (or more specifically Millennials), urban, and educated. The natural wine movement
find its accolades in big cities hubs such as London, New York, and Tokyo where the major natural
wine fairs are organised, and wine bars and restaurants are run. Posts and photos on Facebook
and Twitter taken at these and other similar events and venues mostly portray crowds of young
people holding a wine of glass in unpretentious ways. The age factor is key in the appreciation of
these wines as young palates are not already shaped by conventional wine-tasting aesthetics and
norms. In fact, new generations of natural wine professionals have emerged in the last decade,
occupying managerial roles and chief positions in the trendiest wine bars and restaurants in
Europe and (mainly) abroad. According to a survey conducted by the Italian wine e-commerce
Tannico over the period 2015-2018, in a scenario where natural wine have nearly doubled in
terms of their market share (from 8% to 15%), it results that young consumers display an
appreciation for these wines. It seems Millennials have a more developed awareness towards
sustainable viticulture and winemaking methods used by producers, as well as a sensitivity
towards the latest trends in the wine world (WineNews, 2019).

3.6 The natural wine movement

Drawing a history of the emergence of natural wine producing as it is known and practised
nowadays is not an easy task for many reasons. First of all, the category “natural wines” lacks a
clear legal definition (and as a consequence a proper labelling), and the same natural winemakers
work with a considerable degree of freedom resulting in different personalised working methods
(Pineau, 2019). What is presented here as the natural wine movement does not offer clear-cut
criteria of inclusion and it is generally used to refer to groups of producers sharing the same ideas
and practices on viticulture and winemaking (Black, 2013). What I will present here then is an
attempt to map the different strands of a loose movement which finds its roots in France in the
1970s and subsequently spread in Italy and other European wine-producing countries and finally
overseas. As it will be shown, the emergence, promotion, and current success of this kind of
winemaking approach is tightly linked to a few influential social actors.

3.6.1 The French roots of the movement

The idea of not deploying synthetic chemicals to treat the plants and, at the same time, trying to
vinify without using sulphur was initially put into practice by few French winemakers scattered in

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different regions, mainly in central France, who are regarded nowadays as the pioneers of the
natural wine movement. Going against the logic of post-war modern agriculture which assured
higher profits by maximising the yield per hectare and minimising the risks of diseases and
fermentation issues thanks to the novel synthetic chemistry, these vignerons decided to produce
wine by returning to traditional methods. Instead of using pesticides and chemical fertilisers in
the vineyard, combined with sulphites and other chemical additives in the cellar, these
winemakers relied on naturally occurring indigenous yeasts and low-to-zero additions of
sulphites. They were the first ones to associate the word “nature” to their bottles (vins nature),
implying that wines obtained through modern viticulture and oenology were artificial and lacked a
veritable connection to their place of origin (Pineau 2019: 12-13). Vignerons such as Marcel
Lapierre (Beaujolais), Pierre Overnoy (Jura) and the siblings Hacquet (Loire) are considered to be
the first representatives of what later would become a movement of small-scale French
winemakers who chose to not use chemical substances both in the vineyard and in the cellar (St
Etienne, 2012; Celce, 2016; Haskell, 2016). Still in the 1970s, they were few in number, without
any connections with each other, representing isolated cases of resistance to the progressist
ideology of the new-born industrial agriculture in post-war France. In the early 1980s, these
producers from central France started to become more visible to restricted circles of people
interested in this type of wines and their underlying philosophy, and the first crates of their wines
began to be shipped to and consumed in wine bars and restaurants in Paris (Woodward, 2017).

3.6.1.1 Jules Chauvet and his legacy

The Beaujolais region was particularly key to the emergence of a natural awareness in viticulture
and winemaking due to the research and experiments conducted by the French biochemist and
winemaker Jules Chauvet. Born into a family of small négociants and winegrowers in Beaujolais in
1907, Jules Chauvet trained as a biochemist at the Université de Lyon. Better known in France
than elsewhere (in particular within the natural wine world), he was also regarded as an excellent
wine taster, and his approach is said to have had a profound influence on modern wine-tasting
(Goode and Harrop, 2011). Applying a robust scientific approach to the study of fermentation and
the microbiological components of wine, Chauvet dedicated his life to experimenting with
techniques for producing wines without recurring to chemical additives (sulphur dioxide in
particular) and other oenological processes which were commonly used at the time, such as
chaptalization. 9 His commitment to using indigenous yeasts to activate the fermentation process and

9
Chaptalization is an oenological practice which consists of adding sugar to the must in order to rise the
percentage of alcohol in the wine. It is named after Jean-Antoine Chaptal who invented it in 1801. In Italy it
is a forbidden practice.

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limiting the amount of sulphur dioxide in cellar operations have become the trademark of the
low-intervention approach in winemaking that was for the first time labelled as natural by him. In
particular, combining his expertise as a wine scientist and his skills as a gifted wine taster, he
undertook several experiments to test the role of different types of yeasts during the
fermentation process, arriving at the conclusion that indigenous yeasts were responsible for
better flavours (Goode and Harrop, 2011). According to a clear-cut nature/culture divide,
producing natural wine meant to reduce human intervention to a minimum, so that nature could
express its whole potential. Chauvet framed “nature” and its relationship with human
intervention in ways that are still at the core of the production philosophy embraced by natural
winemakers nowadays. Cohen (2013) points at the paradoxes engendered by Chauvet’s
conceptualisation of nature and its opposition to humankind: his rejection of human intervention
and praise of natural expression in winemaking find their basis in Chauvet’s solid scientific
background as a chemist and oenologist; the non-intervention approach he advocated implies, in
fact, an intensive working regime where the winemaker needs to spend more time, attention, and
work both in vineyard and in the cellar; the same notion of nature Chauvet had in his mind (and his
eyes) was a microscopic one, populated by indigenous yeasts and made possible through the use of
technological means.

For the purpose of this chapter, it is enough to point out the seminal influence of this French
biochemist for the development of a first, small cohort of vintners who started producing natural
wines following his oenological lessons. Jules Chauvet died in 1989, after having left few works
based on his studies and experiments conducted throughout his life, which became textbooks for
younger generations of natural winemakers. But also, he had become the mentor of a group of
winegrowers and close friends based in Beaujolais who adopted his natural method, regarding
him as their spiritual father. Marcel Lapierre, Guy Breton, Jean-Paul Thevenet, Jean Foillard and
Joseph Chamonard, all together knowns as “The Gang of Five”, reportedly got in contact with
Chauvet in 1978 through their consultant winemaker Jacques Neauport. After what was recalled
as a mystical encounter, Lapierre and his friends started working with old vines, harvesting full-
ripened grapes, fermenting with no sulphur dioxide and indigenous yeasts only, and bottling
without fining or filtrations (Atkin, 2007). That is why the Beaujolais region is considered one of
the cradles of the natural wine movement, together with the Loire where biodynamic winemaker
and consultant Nicolas Joly pioneered the application of Steiner’s agricultural lesson to viticulture
and winemaking back in the 1970s (Gordon, 2016).

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3.6.1.2 Rudolph Steiner and the biodynamic method

French anthropologist Christelle Pineau considers Steiner and Chauvet the two spiritual fathers of
the natural wine movement, being the former the point of reference for biodynamic winegrowers
and the latter the initiator of natural winemaking (Pineau, 2019). Along the same line, according
to Isabelle Legeron, Rudolph Steiner was amongst the earliest visionaries of a more sustainable
viticulture and winemaking, together with Jules Chauvet (Decanter Staff, 2011). The point of
contact between Steiner, the Austrian founder of anthroposophy, and viticulture is represented
by the Organic Agriculture Course he gave in Koberwitz (Poland) in 1924, one year before his
death. By that time, Steiner was already known as the father of that complex system of beliefs
centred on the spiritual dimension called by him anthroposophy. Born in Kraljevec (which was at
that time in Hungary) in 1861, Steiner first studied at the Technical University of Vienna where he
received a scientific formation. Animated by philosophical questions about the human spirit, he
later devoted his intellectual energies to the study of philosophy, in particular Kant and Goethe’s
works. The latter in particular became the main point of reference for Steiner’s articulation of a
science of the spirit (anthroposophy). According to the Austrian philosopher, the reality is
comprised by four different levels (physical, ethereal, astral and ego forces), where spiritual and
physical elements are intermingled to form a unique matrix, according to a holistic view of the
universe. In 1924, Steiner gave eight lectures on agriculture to a public formed mainly by farmers
coming from Germany and Poland (Paull, 2011). What was later labelled as “biodynamic
agriculture” was initially a farming practice informed by the theoretical tenets of anthroposophy:
the farm as an agricultural unity was considered as a living entity subject to the same four-level
forces controlling the whole reality, and the farmer as the one who has to establish a personal
relation to this natural system. As Vogt (2007) states, biodynamic agriculture was introduced by
these anthroposophical farmers who did not apply the theoretical indications contained in
Steiner’s 1924 Agriculture Course systematically. Rudolf Steiner played an important role in the
emergence of a movement of winemakers (and farmers) in a European rural context
characterised by the affirmation of industrial agriculture, the gradual abandonment of traditional
farming methods and the acknowledgement of the first negative effects caused by the massive
use of synthetical chemicals in agriculture.

Biodynamic philosophy found its earliest application to viticulture in the pioneering work done by
winegrower Nicolas Joly at his estate Clos de la Coulée de Serrant (Loire) in the 1980s. Before
becoming a biodynamic producer, Joly graduated from Columbia University and later worked as
an investment banker for J.P. Morgan in New York City and London. Nowadays regarded as the
guru and leader of the biodynamic wine movement, in recent years Joly has become a globe-

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trotter wine consultant and author of three books on biodynamic winemaking. 10 In 2001 he also
founded Les Reinassance des Appellations (translated in English as “Return to Terroir”), the first
association of biodynamic vignerons who are committed to employ sustainable, biodynamic and
low-intervention techniques both in the vineyard and in the cellar.11 In the introduction to the
quality charter of the association Steiner’s anthroposophical legacy merges clearly from the way
wine is presented: “the taste of wine can only attain its singularity and become inimitable when it
has received the mark of its terroir and microclimate. Everywhere on earth the 4 components -
heath, light, water and soil/subsoil- combine differently in a unique way” (Return to Terroir,
2010). In order to be recognised as part of the association as a member, the producer must
respect a charter of quality which is presented as a three-level rating system which builds on
biodynamic philosophy. The group now counts more than 200 producers from 17 countries
(Mullen, 2017).

3.6.2 The development of the Italian natural wine movement

In Italy, the rise of a natural wine movement happened slightly later and benefitted from what
had already been tried out in France by winegrowers such as Lapierre in Beaujolais and,
especially, Joly in the Loire region. To reconstruct the history of this loose movement I relied
mainly on articles from blogs, magazines, newspapers and websites dedicated to Italian wine and
food culture, as well as personal communications I had with my informants and other
personalities of the Italian natural wine world during my ethnographic fieldwork.

Two producers from North-Eastern Italy, Josko Gravner and Angiolino Maule, are considered to be
among the first few winemakers to dedicate special attention to sustainable techniques and low-
intervention operations both in the vineyards and in the cellar. 12 In this initial phase of the
movement, an important role was played by solidarity and mutual exchange of experiences
between the winegrowers involved. Considering the Italian case, it was mainly through personal
contacts with Nicolas Joly and other French winegrowers that Italian producers became aware of
the potential of biodynamic techniques and organic farming (Montes, 2014). As it happened in
France, the Italian winegrowers who first started working naturally did not represent a coherent

10
Here the titles of his books which have been translated in different languages: “What is biodynamic
wine?” and “Biodynamic wine, demystified” addressed to a public of wine lovers, and “Wine from sky to
Earth” written mainly for winemakers.
11
https://return-to-terroir.com/
12
In an interview, Angiolino Maule claims that Josko Gravner represented a guide for him. It was in fact
through Gravner that he approached natural winemaking for the first time in the 1980s Montes, M. (2012)
'Una chiacchierata con Angiolino Maule tra assaggi di vini con e senza solforosa', cronachedigusto.it, 23
February. Available at: http://www.cronachedigusto.it/archiviodal-05042011/331-lincontro/7639-
maule.html (Accessed: 03 June 2019)..

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movement of wine producers but rather quite isolated cases. In the 1970s and 1980s, the role of
French advisors such as Joly’s was determinant in growing awareness around natural wines and
their production. And the same exchange of experiences and solidarity allowed more conscious
collective actions over time. To this day, these solidary practices continue to be shared by Italian
natural winegrowers, as they are valued as an extremely useful source of practical knowledge and
expertise as well as part of what is shared in terms of tight social relationships. A strong sense of
conviviality and enjoyment in drinking wine together indeed characterise this group of natural
winegrowers.

The first consistent attempt at defining natural wines and their main characteristics dates back to
2001 when Luca Gargano, an Italian wine distributor since 1983, wrote the Manifesto dei vini
Triple A (“Triple A wines manifesto”). The three As stand for “Agriculturist”, “Artisans” and
“Artists” respectively. After years spent tasting and importing conventional wines from the so-
called New World, Gargano realised that a process of homogenization and industrialization in the
sector was undermining the more natural, genuine aspect of wine drinking. 13 In particular, he felt
the need to rediscover viticulture as the fundamental step in wine production. Agriculture and
indigenous yeasts are the key words within his ten-points manifesto, which covers all the various
activities undertaken both in the vineyards and in the cellar (Gargano, 2001). In 2003, Gargano got
in touch with Joly, and the latter invited him to France to attend a wine fair with his group of
Italian natural producers. The following year, Gargano organised the first edition of the natural
wine fair ViniVeri (“real wines”) at Villa Favorita, a Palladian frescoed villa in Monticello di Fara
(close to Verona), one of the first venues in Italy where natural winegrowers could promote their
products to professionals and the general public altogether (Pulliero, 2008).

3.6.3 The associations of ViniVeri, VinNatur and Vi.Te

ViniVeri is also the name of the first association of Italian natural winegrowers which was
founded, upon Joly’s advice, by four leading natural wine producers (Giampiero Bea, Angiolino
Maule, Fabrizio Niccolaini and Stanko Radikon). Similarly to Joly’s association, ViniVeri drafted a
charter of quality for its members highlighting the key steps in the process leading to the
production of natural wines, divided into two main areas: the vineyard and the cellar (despite the
fact that biodynamic practices are not explicitly encouraged). The original leadership of the
association lasted less than two years as Angiolino Maule dropped out to fund a new association

13
This expression is used in the world of wine to refer to those countries which are not part of the
traditional European wine-areas. New-World countries are: the USA, Canada, Argentina, Chile, Australia,
New Zealand, and South Africa.

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called VinNatur in 2006. The reasons of this divide were various, but concerned mainly the lack of
an explicit protocol on production. Today his association is the largest of its kind in Italy, with
more than 170 members spanning over 9 countries.14 VinNatur is committed to specific high
quality standards, and this is reflected in its strict charter of quality and assessment criteria: each
producer’s wines are evaluated by a neutral panel of tasters and later analysed in a lab to check
the possible presence of pesticides and levels of sulphur dioxide.15 Every year in April around the
same days of Vinitaly (the most important wine fair in Italy, taking place in Verona), VinNatur
holds a three-day wine fair at Villa Favorita.16 The wine fair is a unique occasion for all members to
gather together, develop networking with wine agents, importers, distributors and critics who are
drawn to Verona for Vinitaly during that week, meet the general public (who steadily increases
year by year), and attend themed seminars and workshops focused on natural viticulture and
winemaking.

Another major split within the Italian natural wine movement occurred in 2012 when a group of
producers and other members from Reinassance Italia decided to create the association Vi.Te –
Vignaioli e Territori (translated “winegrowers and territories”) and organise their own wine fair
within the institutional frame of Vinitaly. Before then, the Italian natural wine movement rejected
unanimously any connection with the annual fair held in Verona, which was regarded as the
symbol of that conventional industrial winemaking strongly criticised by the movement. Instead,
the idea of this group of winemakers was to make their alternative voice heard right from within
the capital of mainstream wine production, distribution, and consumption. In 2012 they were
allocated one of the numerous pavilions inside Vinitaly to share with other organic producers. The
first edition was a real success both for producers and public, considering that natural wines as a
product category separated by organic wines were not already on everyone’s lips (Cossater,
2012). Today the association counts more than 130 members, mainly Italian, who still hold their
annual wine fair within the premises of Vinitaly.

3.6.4 The role played by Christine Cogez Marzani and Luigi Veronelli

Two years before ViniVeri was founded, that is in 2002, the first edition of natural wine fair Vini di
Vignaioli (translated “winegrowers’ wines”) took place thanks to the idea and organisation of

14
https://www.vinnatur.org/
15
https://www.vinnatur.org/perche/diventare-socio-produttore-di-vinnatur/
16
The last edition of VinNatur wine fair was held in a different location, due to some restoration works to
the villa. The new location, the Margraf Showroom in Gambellara, has offered more space for the
producers’ stands. This last edition has also seen another important novelty, the launch of VinNatur
Magazine, the association’s brand-new half-yearly magazine.

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Paris-based restaurant owner and natural wine lover Christine Cogez Marzani in Fornovo di Taro,
a small town in the Italian province of Parma. Married with an Italian chef running an Italian
restaurant in Paris, Cogez Marzani was the pioneer of Italian natural wines importation to France.
Familiar with this kind of production, as Paris was already home of wine bars, shops and
restaurants devoted to the promotion of French natural wines (Holthausen, 2016), Cogez Marzani
started searching for Italian small-scale, artisanal winegrowers working without using selected
yeasts, pesticides and excessive amounts of sulphites (Novati, 2015). By doing so, she ended up
being a key figure in the development of a natural wine culture in Italy, and introduced among
Italian producers the very idea of natural winemaking as an economically viable production with a
French market (and culture) ready for it. As a result, many Italian producers realised thanks to her
that their wines could be defined and sold as natural wines, as it was the case with the
winemakers described in the ethnographic vignette at the beginning of this thesis. Since 2002,
Cogez Marzani’s fair Vini di Vignaioli, which can claim the title of first natural wine fair in Italy, has
offered the possibility to get to know numerous winemakers (mainly Italian and French), and taste
their wines in an informal environment which reminds the atmosphere of the French salons du vin
nature. Since 2015, a Milan-based edition of Vini di Vignaioli (called “Live Wine”) reflects the
positive trend of a flourishing wine market niche which finds in big cities such as Milan its main
target and economic success.

Another significant series of encounters added to the emergence of the Italian natural wine
movement and more generally to the development of a political consciousness among Italian
small-scale farmers and winegrowers reacting to the effects of neo-liberal policies in agriculture
(maximising profits at the expense of a sustainable agriculture, overloading bureaucracy for small
producers, standardisation of taste, etc.).

At the beginning of the 2000s a series of political events and social experiences led to the creation
of “t/Terra e liberta’/Critical Wine”, a social movement focused on ethical issues surrounding
wine and its commodification. The movement was the result of the encounter between Luigi
Veronelli, the internationally renowned Italian gastronome and wine critic, and young leftist
activists from different community centres of Northern Italy. Veronelli was an intellectual and
philosopher by background, interested in the history and culture of Italian food and wine, as well
as an active defender of a peasant culture which was gradually being lost in the face of a growing
agricultural industrialisation. Editor and author of numerous books and articles on the Italian
cuisine, he invented the first gastronomic guides specialised in Italian wines and restaurants. As
an influential journalist and expert of Italian gastronomy, he was actively engaged in raising
awareness about the effects of industrialisation and food corporations on the economic and social
conditions of small-scale, artisanal food, and wine production. At the beginning of the 2000s, a

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few years before his death, he started collaborating with other intellectuals and young leftist
activists in discussions on globalisation, the industrial food system, homologation of taste,
changing consumption patterns, and agriculture (Tibaldi, 2009). Veronelli and his movement
launched a campaign demanding self-certification for artisanal food products and what he called
“79rezzo sorgente” (wine source pricing): any food product should bear an indication of all raw
materials’ origins, their typology and processing methods on the packaging, as well as its original
price (Veronelli et al., 2004). In doing so, he anticipated the request for a “transparent label”
promoted by some Italian natural wine producers during ViniVeri wine fair in 2013.17 Since 2007,
the Milan-based eno-gastronomic fair La Terra Trema (translated “shaking land”), taking place in
the historical self-managed community centre of Leoncavallo, has collected the legacy of
Veronelli’s political activism and his project of giving recognition to the cultural and artisanal work
of small producers, farmers and winemakers through an ongoing debate within urban contexts. La
Terra Trema remains the annual gathering of more than one hundred small-scale producers and
farmers from all over Italy who can find here a dynamic and politically active environment to
discuss current topics concerning state agricultural policies, engage in wider sociological debates
and, last but not least, meet their local consumers.18

3.6.5 The recent success of the natural wine movement

In the 1990s, the natural wine movement expanded both in France and Italy, attracting other
winemakers who were working in the same way in Europe, especially in Austria, Germany, and
Spain. At the same time, the number of fairs and events dedicated to these wines slowly
increased, most of the time thanks to the work of few wine cognoscenti who had honed their
palates to the sensorial aesthetics of natural wines. This circumscribed crew of wine critics,
sommeliers, distributors and importers have represented key figures for the recognition of an
alternative way of tasting wine, which strongly opposed to the dominant criteria set by orthodox
sommeliers and wine critics such as Robert Parker.

Since the mid-2000s (with some earlier isolated cases in the late 1990s), French and Italian natural
wines have found their way into the US market thanks to the pioneering work of few wine
professionals such as New York-based wine distributor Joe Dressner and his wife Denyse Louis
(Louis/Dressner Selections), New York-based wine merchant Neal Rosenthal (Rosenthal Wine
Merchant), who is also author of a book titled “Reflections of a wine merchant: On a lifetime in

17
https://www.viniveri.net/notizie/verso-unetichetta-trasparente/
18
https://www.laterratrema.org

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the vineyards and cellars of France and Italy” and who was featured in Nossiter’s 2004 film
Mondovino, and New York-based wine blogger Alice Feiring (author of a successful blog called
“The Feiring Line”, as well as several books on natural wines). Nossiter also contributed to make
the Italian strand of the movement famous in Italy and abroad through the documentary
Resistenza Naturale (Nossiter, 2014). The film describes a group of Italian producers dedicated to
natural winemaking, highlighting the political stance of their battles to promote an alternative to
conventional wine industry.

Since the 2010s small groups of winemakers working in Australia and New Zealand, inspired by
what was happening in Europe and the US, started producing natural wines in different regions of
the two countries. The movement around natural winemaking in this part of the so-called New
World retains the same characteristics as its European counterparts: a loose movement
comprised of different voices and orientations that stand together against the use of synthetic
chemicals both in the vineyard and in the cellar and excessive oenological manipulation during
the vinification process (Asimov, 2019). The same is happening in small areas of Argentina and
Chile, where some old autochthonous grape varieties such as the Chilean país are undergoing a
process of revitalisation and renewed appreciation (Feiring, 2019).

3.7 Conclusions

In this chapter I have provided the reader with an introductory overview over natural wines, by
placing them within a wider framework of analysis that takes into account the emergence of a
new approach to food connected to modern European desires. In front of recent food scares and
wider social transformations triggered by globalisation and the formation of the EU, Western
consumers demand closer connections to the food they eat. Artisanal and natural food products
appear then to be the responses to consumers’ modern anxieties as they imply a reconnection
with nature and in particular to locality, together with what the latter entails: a sense of lost
traditions, authenticity, and rootedness. Transnational food movements such as Slow Food have
intercepted these needs and proposed a new relational food aesthetic. At the core of this new
engagement with food lies the problematic concept of terroir, which found its first application in
French wine production. The multi-dimensional nature of this French concept has allowed its use
within legal frameworks that bind specific localities to specific food products, guaranteeing thus
their quality. Within the wine world, the concept of terroir has historically been the means to
reproduce social hierarchies and promote a model of high-quality production that has become the
point of reference for the rest of the wine world. Within a changing global scenario that sees the
emergence of new producing countries with a relatively recent history in viticulture, the appeal to
terroir has been subsumed within a larger set of values where science and technology play a key

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role. Although terroir remains a key element for marketing purposes, the mass-production of
wine relies more on new techno-scientific notions which are disseminated through transnational
networks of experts and oenologists. The same networks, together with acclaimed wine critics
and sommeliers, dictate the aesthetic and evaluative standards for taste, reproducing a global
hierarchy of wine values. It is against this increasing standardisation of practices and
homologation of taste, that groups of winemakers across Europe have started to craft their wines
in unconventional ways. Natural winemaking can be approached then as a geographically
fragmented response to this changing scenario and at the same time as a niche market that finds
increasing popularity and accolades in international urban centres such as Paris and Tokyo.
Nevertheless, as a debated product category, natural wines raise different issues regarding the
way they are produced and their legal status within both national and European legal
frameworks. In the next chapters, I will delve into these problematic aspects in light of the
ethnographic materials I collected during my own fieldwork.

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Chapter 4 Natural wines from locality to global scale

4.1 Introduction

The aim of this chapter is to unpack the vagueness surrounding the image of natural wines
(Monroe, 2019), and transform it into a more ethnographically complex reality. I will demonstrate
that what is at stake is not simply a linguistic querelle, but instead a more complex, critical
engagement with notions of terroir, authenticity and nature on the part of these producers.
Drawing from my own ethnographic fieldwork, I will analyse how crafting wines which are said to
be closer to nature and terroir by those who produce them, implies a reflexive posture and a
strategic, sometimes contradictory, engagement with the place where production occurs.

I will show how producers who embrace a natural approach to viticulture and winemaking
negotiate the meaning of their work while being well-aware of their positioning within a global
market where environmental and ethical concerns translate into products with added value.
Within the contemporary globalised world of wine, where values such as authenticity, ecological
engagement and provenance are at the centre of new debates around ‘quality’ (Demossier, 2018:
157; Teil, 2012; Inglis, 2019), natural wine producers strategically carve out their own space at
both local and global levels. While their wines are not legally recognised, and often contested by
the hegemonic taste-knowledge of global experts (Yung, 2004), still these producers know how to
strategically rely on their own network to place their wines in key market niches as well as create
closer connections with consumers who want to differentiate from their more traditional
counterpart. I will argue that the lack of an organic label and a regulatory framework is not always
perceived as a limitation by these producers, but instead it is strategically deployed to mark a
difference from the rest of the wines on the market.

Through the ethnographic analysis of my case studies, I will show how my participants make
sense of their actions and beliefs according to their different life trajectories and engagement
with natural winegrowing. The result will be an heterogenous picture which reflects the
multiplicity of voices, practices and postures of these female natural winegrowers. The open-
minded, reflexive approach to wine characterising these producers, who are generally highly
educated and with a degree in oenology, will be analysed through the multiple strategies they
undertake to claim their relationship with terroir, engage with the regulatory framework of
organic certification, and build up a globally ramified network. The chapter is divided into three
main sections, each of them addressing a different scale of analysis. I will start by looking at the
way natural wine producers construct their relationship with locality (and terroir). Then I will

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move my attention to the larger European scenario to discuss the involvement of natural
winegrowers in the organic farming movement and their positions regarding the current EU
legislation on organic wines. Finally, I will trace the global ties that shape the network of my
interlocutors. In my analysis, I will critically approach locality not as a physical, bounded locale but
as the place where different scales meet and contestations arise (DuPuis and Goodman, 2005).

4.2 Reflexive terroir

Vi.Te is synonymous with artisanal wine,


that expresses the flavor of the land it comes from
and is born from diversity, knowledge and presence.

The winemaker – through the everyday acts of farming – creates his or her own personal
relationship with the land and the wine.

We are pleased to celebrate this relationship, and at the same time contribute to the
development and promotion of the culture of natural and artisanal wine, and organic
and biodynamic agriculture.

Vi.Te unites producers from all over the world who strive to express themselves through
transparency, authenticity, and individuality.
Our wines are produced with a respect for all living beings and aspire to be the authentic
expression of the places where they are made.

(Vi.Te-Vignaioli e Territori, 2019)

Natural wines are presented and communicated both by their producers and those who promote
and sell them, as the result of a skilful process of interpretation aimed at expressing the local
terroir. The above quotation is taken from the webpage of Vi.Te – Vignaioli e Territori
(“winegrowers and territories”), one of the three main associations of natural wine producers
based in Italy. Through a rather evocative and not prescriptive language, it delineates the
foundational principles of natural winemaking highlighting the importance of an intimate
relationship between the winemaker and her land. At first sight, natural wine producers seem to
align with more traditional winemakers in their quest for fine wines, where quality is framed as
the tight association between a specific place and its unique taste. What differentiates natural
wine producers though, is their highly reflexive posture which leads them to treat terroir not as a
given or a priori category, but as the result of a constant process of human-plant interaction. The
concrete manifestation of this entanglement, namely wine, varies from year to year, from plot to
plot, and as such is unpredictable. This open-minded approach, coupled with a strong ecological

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sensitivity, is something I found among all my informants during my fieldwork in Italy and defines
their own identity as natural wine producers, despite their formal membership to different
natural wine associations operating at national and transnational level. At a practical level, their
approach to winegrowing is informed by a solid technical knowledge, as most of them have a
university degree in viticulture and oenology or have attended training courses and seminars
which allow them to engage in wine production with a great deal of awareness regarding each
single stage of the process. At a more ideological level, this reflexive engagement with terroir is
founded on a criticism of the increasing homogenisation of taste and the industrialisation process
that has invested the wine sector since the 1970s. In their quest for wines which bear the mark of
the place where they originated, natural producers contrast globalisation and its standardising
effects by emphasising values such as transparency and authenticity, while contesting existing
notions of ‘typicity’ as framed by the regulatory framework of the national system of
denominations (Barrey and Teil, 2011). As I will show through two ethnographic case studies,
their attachment to terroir is strategically mobilised to make a distinction between their wines
and the conventional ones. According to their personal backgrounds and life-trajectories, various
strategies are undertaken.

Before delving into the significance of the terroir for natural wine producers, and in particular my
Italian informants, I will first go back to the globalised wine scenario. I do so to argue that the
emergence of natural wines as a distinct category has partly intersected the process of
democratization investing the production and consumption of fine wines. Since the 1970s, Old
World hierarchies of taste (especially French), which were based on the tight association between
terroir and high quality, have started eroding. As a result, the same terroir concept has gradually
been included into broader notions of provenance (Smith Maguire, 2018). Deemed as elitist and
auto-referential, the French notion of terroir had, in fact, secured competitive advantages and
monopoly rents for the Old World wine producers and excluded from this logic the New World
counterpart (Harvey, 2002; Fourcade, 2012). The latter could not count on the same symbolic and
cultural capital accumulated through centuries of history and materialised in structured quality
assurance systems such as the French AOC. Nevertheless, with the appearance of new actors in a
market increasingly globalised (hence more competitive), the hegemony of the terroir concept
has been challenged by a more democratic approach to wine consumption. According to Howland
(2013), a series of interrelated factors have caused the erosion of the terroir supremacy,
producing what he calls “distinction by proxy”: the middle-class performance of appreciation of
fine wines through more democratic means that have allowed readily accessible economic capital
to transform into cultural capital. As I have already said in the previous chapter, the indication of
the varietal on the label has been one of the key factors in providing ready-to-understand

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information to consumers. The introduction of points ranking systems such as the one developed
by Robert Parker, and other forms of quality assurance mechanisms (wine awards, critic reviews,
etc.) represent another way of communicating the quality of the wines purchased more easily.
Amongst the other strategies noted by Howland (2013) which have led to a process of
democratisation, there is a greater social access to winegrowers through public events, such as
wine tasting tours and fairs, but also (and more indirectly) through biographies and interviews
reported on wine websites and lifestyle magazines. As I will demonstrate later, these factors have
also permeated the more restricted world of natural wine and its social actors. As Howland (2013:
326) aptly argues, the democratisation of fine wines has not removed the mechanisms and
hierarchies of elite distinction, as wine remains a field of connoisseurship where differential status
is constantly reproduced.

This holds true not only in the sphere of consumption, but also at the production and distribution
level. As Harvey (2002) explains, the distinctive logic of terroir, which has historically secured
monopoly rents to French wine producers to the detriment of those who do not own plots of land
equally ‘unique’, has now been challenged by other modes of distinction. Indeed, quality claims
based on the relationship between wine and its geographical origin have adapted to incorporate
competing notions of authenticity, originality and uniqueness. In this way, the game of distinction
remains unaltered. As Harvey concludes, “the generality of a globalised market produces […] a
powerful force seeking to guarantee not only the continuing monopoly privileges of private
property but the monopoly rents that derive from depicting commodities as incomparable”
(2002: 100). Terroir has in fact been developed within a broader notion of provenance, which
reflects contemporary desires of authenticity and transparency in line with what I argued in my
discussion on food in the previous chapter. In particular, according to Smith Maguire (2018) the
notion of provenance can be analysed as the combination of four different frames: transparency,
genuineness, heritage and external validation. Following the author, the first three frames relate
to authenticity while the last one pertains to legitimation devices such as the systems of
denomination and awards. Authenticity relates to the particularities of production, which in the
case of wine translates into detailed information about the place of origin, the way wine is
produced and crafted and by whom, and its connections to local traditions and histories of
winemaking. This broadening of the concept of provenance modifies the self-evident character of
the original terroir logic to include quality claims based on the minutia of production, which
reflect a democratization of terroir. At the same time, this ‘taste for the particular’ (Smith
Maguire, 2018), that is an appreciation of the particularities of provenance which include the
product, the producer and context of production, maintains a logic of distinction as it operates as
a device of discernment that still reproduces status divisions between Old World and New World

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wine regions. Within the Old World of wine, where the terroir concept keeps maintaining its
hegemony, we instead assist at a process of hyper specification of provenance. A good example is
Burgundy, where the campaign for UNESCO recognition has placed emphasis on its unique
climats, and the individually named small plots of land forming the Burgundian vignoble. As
Demossier (2011) notes, through this micro-local specification the allegedly natural association
between place and quality has been pushed to the extreme, to claim superior distinctiveness and
value in an increasingly competitive international scenario. If the divide between the Old and the
New World has narrowed thanks to a process of democratization, wine nevertheless remains a
field where the game of distinction keeps being played. With that in mind, I will now approach
more closely the context of Italian natural winegrowing, and in particular the significance of
terroir and ‘locality’ for this kind of production.

4.2.1 Born with terroir: Livia

Before dinner I have a chat with Livia’s brother about some recent reflections on terroir I
made throughout the summer, which were prompted by some interesting discussions
emerging during the last EASA conference.1 I am interested in knowing how a
winegrower thinks about terroir, while being well aware that much of my
anthropological curiosity does not always make sense to my informants. I address the
question to him in a pretty provocative way, as we have become familiar to each other
this should not be a big deal (I hope). I am pretty surprised by his reply though. He
frankly admits that terroir is first of all a “narration”. It cannot be reduced to its soil
components only, whose contribution to the creation of high-quality wines is not
scientifically proven, either. He adds that the concept is difficult to grasp as it
encompasses climate, soil, vines, and history. On top of that, he says, the time spent
over the vines through generations is fundamental in creating a long, sustained human-
plant interaction. It seems that Livia’s brother embraces some criticism about the myth
of terroir, but at the same time he defends it as a meaningful expression of his work as a
wine producer. He tells me that not all his colleagues agree with him, instead some of
them strongly believe in the alleged uniqueness of their own terroir. He acknowledges
that some winegrowing areas are historically famous for their high-quality wines thanks
to the terroir narration, while other regions cannot afford the same prestige. (Fieldnote
05/09/18)

1
The European Association of Social Anthropologists.

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Livia and her family live in the hills above Canelli, a small municipality in the Piedmont province of
Asti which is historically renowned for the production of classic method sparkling wines.2 Canelli
in particular boasts a glorious past for the production of a sparkling white wine obtained through
the local aromatic white grape variety Moscato, which is legally protected by the homonymous
denomination of origin Moscato d’Asti Canelli DOCG. A few local historical wineries founded in
the second half of the XIX century claim the credit for the production of the first Italian classic
method sparkling wines, and their subterranean wine cellars have been recently inscribed into the
UNESCO World Heritage List due to their historical and cultural value (see picture below).3

Figure 6 A road sign indicating the historical cellars of Canelli (photo by author)

Livia and her brother represent at least the fifth generation of a small-scale winemaker family that
is deeply rooted to this corner of Piedmont. Their father, after some years working in Turin and

2
Classic method sparkling wines, like French champagnes, are obtained through a process of second
fermentation occurring in the bottle which is induced by the addition of yeast and sugar to the base wine.
3
In 2014, the area around Canelli and Asti was officially granted the UNESCO World Heritage Site status
together with the vineyards of Langhe-Roero and Monferrato (https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/1390/).

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Canelli as an insurance agent, decided to go back to the paternal home and manage the family
winery when his own father became ill in the 1970s. At that time, wine used to be sold in bulk
(vino sfuso) to private clients, who would then bottle it manually in the basements of their
houses. When Livia’s father took over the family business, he made some investments and
introduced the bottling plant in situ, a technological rarity among local small-scale producers at
that time.

When I first met Livia in Canelli in 2015, one of the first things she proudly told me was that the
only real, traditional Moscato d’Asti is the one produced by her family on those hills. This is
something that she repeated to me during the different visits I made to her place over the years,
and the story was also confirmed by other natural wine producers I met in Piedmont. The very
first day I spent at her place, after a delicious dinner with the rest of her family4, Livia’s father
explicitly told me that their wine had always been natural because they had “the proper terroir to
do it” (sic). More specifically, he said that their wine did not need further specifications to be
defined, it was just “wine”. He went on to say that this was especially true for their Moscato,
which was a typical product, “born” (nato) uniquely in that land, a marker of authenticity par
excellence. It was the rest of the wine produced in the area, he added, that was artificial and
industrial. Giulio was referring in particular to the large-scale production of sparkling wines which
represent a high percentage of the wines made locally. When the following day I was in one of
their plots surrounding their property, walking with Livia through rows of vines ready to be
harvested, she explained me that Moscato is the most expensive grape variety cultivated locally
due to its high sugar content. Taking advantage of its high market price, many local wine growers
prefer to sell their Moscato grapes to the wine industries of the area instead of producing their
own wine, as it was done in the past. In that way, according to her, local wine growers have been
devaluating a historical artisanal production that is barely surviving thanks to very few
winemakers working in the same way as her family.5

It seems then that for Livia and her family producing a wine of terroir is necessarily bound to a
practice, an artisanal savoir faire that allows the raw fruit to become a unique local product. It is
for this reason that for Livia the term terroir can be pertinently applied to natural wine production
only, which is carried out by small-scale artisanal winegrowers controlling each stage of the whole

4
Livia lives with her father, brother, daughter and son in their family home, which is composed by the original
compound and an annexed restored haystack where she lives with her sons. Livia has also two sisters who
live in Turin and the nearby Canelli.
5
In 2001, a small group of local producers created the Associazione Produttori Moscato Canelli, an
association which promotes the local Moscato wine and aims at obtaining a new denomination of origin
detached from the existing DOCG Moscato d’Asti Canelli. Livia does not belong to this association as she
does not align with the quality standards promoted by its members.

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process. If Livia’s father takes for granted the association between their place and the unique
quality of their wines, Livia became aware of producing natural wines of terroir only in 1998, after
the visit of a group of French vignerons from Beaujolais to Canelli. During a tour around Le Langhe
(the famous land of Barolo and Barbaresco wines, close to Asti province), this group of French
natural winegrowers was received by Livia through a common acquaintance. At the end of the
1990s natural wines were already offered in Parisian bars à vin, and the Beaujolais region was
already renown as the cradle of natural winemaking thanks to influential producers such as
Marcel Lapierre (a close friend of one of the vignerons visiting Livia that year). Livia’s personal
trajectory of Livia tells a story that is similar to other Italian natural wine producers, who gained
awareness of being part of an emergent movement of winegrowers through contact with other
prominent colleagues working according to the same principles. In what follows, I will focus on
the French influence regarding the role of terroir in the practices and discourses of my informants.

4.2.2 A French heritage

While Livia and her brother argue that only natural winemaking as an artisanal practice can lead
to the expression of terroir, they also acknowledge the recent proliferation of the French term for
marketing purposes in the Italian wine landscape. Indeed, since the 1970s groups of young
innovative producers started to travel around France to learn and import cultivation and wine
growing techniques to Italy (Giuliani, Lorenzoni and Visentin, 2015). Together with new
knowledge, they also brought back the French idea of terroir on which those techniques were
based. When in 1986 the methanol scandal threatened the Italian wine industry, in particular in
the Piedmont region where most of the wineries involved in the scandal were based, the appeal
to quality connected to terroir became the solution to resurrect an entire economy (Barbera and
Audifredi, 2012). To this end, in 1992 the existing legal system of denomination initially divided
into ‘Table Wine’ and ‘Quality Wine Produced in a Specific Region’ (that is DOC and DOCG wines)
was modified by a new law which prohibited the application of labels of origin to table wines and
introduced an intermediary level of quality, the Indicazione Geografica Tipica (IGT), on the model
of the French category vins de pays. The aim was to strengthen a closer link between certified
quality and terroir through an explicit hierarchy of denominations and a stricter regulation for
DOCG wines (which are at the top of the quality pyramid, as it is shown in the picture below).

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Figure 7 The Italian system of wine appellations (Federdoc, 2021)

The result was that a considerable number of small and medium producers were pushed to
elevate their wines to the standards set by the disciplinare di produzione (the product
specification, or French cahier des charges). Since then, the overall quality of the Italian wine
production has increased and the export rates have been constantly growing. Piedmont nowadays
represents the Italian region with the highest number of DOCs and DOCGs denominations of
origin.

Currently, Italy and France represent the two world’s largest wine producers and together they
account for around 35% of the global wine production. What is interesting to note though, is that
there is still a remarkable difference between the French and the Italian wine markets: while the
value of French wines protected by the AOC appellation accounts for 82% of the national market
value, the percentage for Italian DOC/DOCG wines is only 47%. The same discrepancy occurs if we
look at the sales volume and sales value of the two countries at European level: France
contributes 35% of the total European PDO6 wine production against 20% of Italy, and French
wines capture 54% of the European sales values compared to only 4% of Italian wines. The same

6
Protected Designation of Origin, as it was established at EU level in 2012 and modelled on the French AOC
system.

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pattern is found at the consumption end, where French consumers generally rely on the AOC
label as a quality indicator, while Italian consumers trust more wine guides, influential
winemakers and previous tasting experiences (Corrado and Odorici, 2009; Carter, 2017: 484-485).
The reasons of this difference between France and Italy and the failure of the Italian system of
denominations to create a strong link between quality and terroir can be historically explained by
the lack of a strong belief in terroir amongst Italian wine producers. According to Carter (2017),
the terroir ideology successfully supported the emergence of a shared identity as vigneron
amongst French winegrowers. Through local unions (syndicats) and their belief in terroir, these
producers managed to work together to defend the superiority of their products. In this process
the role of the state, which institutionalised the terroir concept through the creation of the AOC
system of appellations, functioned as a quality regulator to the advantage of the winegrowers
who still draft themselves the quality standards (Barham, 2003; Trubek, Guy and Bowen, 2010).

In Italy a strong identity amongst winegrowers never emerged as farmers used to work in a
polycultural system where grapes were only one amongst the crops cultivated (olives, grains,
fruits, etc.). Within an economy of subsistence, wine was not considered as a premium product
meant for the market and the focus was on quantity instead of quality. Moreover, farmers did not
get the right to vote until just before the First World War and that hindered the political
formation of pressure groups able to confront the state policies on wine matters. As a result, the
decisional power has remained in the hands of large wine merchants and distributors. In 1963,
the DOC system of denominations was mainly created to increase the market value of Italian
wine, whose quality was still to be built though. Instead of representing a shared belief as in the
French case, the concept of terroir was then only indirectly adopted through the establishment of
a legal framework constructed on the model of the French AOC. The attempt by the Italian
government of increasing price and quality through the creation of a regulatory regime which only
formally resembled the French model, proved unsuccessful due to the political nature of the DOC
accreditation process which was used to gain support from local politicians through a clientelistic
attitude (Carter, 2017: 491-492). This Italian appropriation of terroir, which Livia was pointing to,
can then be interpreted as a marketing strategy that the Italian government introduced to
increase the sales volumes of DOC and DOCG wine in the 1960s, and especially after the methanol
scandal in the 1990s.

The use of terroir as a marketing device has nevertheless been framed as one of the interlocking
dimensions through which the French concept can be analysed. This commercial dimension
competes with what Charters defines as the ‘physical’ and ‘mystical’ aspects of place, together
expressing terroir as a marker of distinction (Charters, 2006: 107-108). While the physical
dimension strictly relates to the natural environment of the vineyard (soil, plant, altitude,

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exposition, etc.), the mystical sphere includes the human factor and a socially cultivated taste of
place which fosters a sense of identity for those believing in terroir, as it is best epitomised by
French vignerons. The concept of typicity, intended as a quality tightly connected to a specific
locality, derives its meaning from this sustained relationship between humans and nature. As
Vadour argues,

typicality characterises a collective taste memory, which has matured over a long time,
through several generations of people, and refers to geographically referenced
products. It is the shared perception of how generations from a given place expect the
wine should taste, when made from grapes grown in that place and when the wine has
been made in that place. (2002: 121)

While this idea of consensus over the meaning of typicity and authenticity applied to wine
production has recently been challenged by groups of winegrowers in France (Barrey and Teil,
2011), it is this sedimented sense of terroir that Livia seems to evoke in relation to her wines and
her approach to winemaking. It is no coincidence that she has developed an awareness as a
natural wine producer thanks to the contact with French vignerons, for whom terroir represents a
culturally engrained category of meaning. But there is also a broader historical reason that
connects Piedmont with the French world of wine, as Livia’s brother pointed out during a
conversation I had with him about viticulture in Piedmont.

When Umberto was the King of Italy, Asti sparkling wines used to enjoy international prestige. At
that time (1878-1900), these ‘Italian champagnes’ (as they were defined) used to appear on the
royal table and during diplomatic events such as the launch of the royal ship Umberto I, which
was celebrated with the christening of a bottle of Asti Spumante at the presence of the Italian
king and the German emperor William II in 1888 (Georges, 1892). The fame of Asti wines, and in
general of some wines produced in Piedmont was indeed the result of multiple political
connections between France and Italy throughout the XVIII and XIX centuries. At the end of the
XVIII century, Italy was not yet a unified kingdom and Piedmont was under the control of the
Savoy family, and later became part of the French empire of Napoleon I (1800-1814) before
returning to the Italian royal family. It was in this period of intense contact that thanks to the
pioneering work of diplomats, statesmen and generals such as Filippo Antonio Asinari and Camillo
Benso Count of Cavour, French innovative vinification techniques and viticultural practices were
introduced in Piedmont. Filippo Asinari was an Italian nobleman who worked as a diplomat and
general for the French empire of Napoleon I during the end of the XVIII and the beginning of the
XIX century. Due to his interest in viticulture, he studied the French wine production and
imported the grape variety Chardonnay to Piedmont, introduced new pruning techniques,

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methods of implant and a rationalisation of the vineyard system (Di Ricaldone, 1973). Camillo
Benso Count of Cavour was one of the earlier promoters of modern Barolo wine thanks to the
commercial relationship he used to have with the French oenologist Louis Oudart, who worked as
a wine consultant for noblemen in Piedmont in the middle of the XIX century. Oudart managed to
produce a dry wine from local Nebbiolo grapes thanks to innovative vinification techniques and
oenological instruments he imported from France (Stara, 2013). The success of Barolo wine, since
then called “il vino dei re, il re dei vini” (the kings’ wine, the wines’ king), was accompanied by the
early foundation of the ‘Consortium for the Protection of Quality for Local Wines Barolo and
Barbaresco’ in 1934. The aim of the nascent consorzio was to define the geographical areas most
dedicated to the production of the ‘royal’ wine and defend it from frauds and adulteration.7 The
Langhe area where Barolo is still produced, and more generally Piedmont represent then a
successful application of the French terroir logic that is justified by a history of sustained
collaborations between professionals working between the two countries.

4.2.3 Embodying terroir

The reference to terroir is indeed something common not only in the way Livia consciously
promotes her wines, but also in reference to other aspects of her everyday life. The “collective
taste memory” that Vadour (2002) refers to, applies to other spheres of Livia’s life not strictly
connected to the world of wine. One of them is definitely food: Livia cooks for the whole family at
least two meals a day when she is not abroad for her sales trips. Cooking proves to be a
meaningful, time-consuming activity that sees Livia engaged in selecting seasonal fresh
ingredients to prepare mainly traditional regional dishes. During my fieldwork I have repeatedly
been impressed by the combination of dexterity, savoir faire and technical skill that she daily puts
in this operation of cultural reproduction (Sutton, 2014). Once the meal is ready, the same
collective consumption is an occasion to reinstate their sense of attachment to their regional
traditions. What is on the table is usually commented on and judged in terms of taste, referenced
to past traditions, and at times consciously reinterpreted by Livia. I will explore this aesthetic of
taste in the next chapters, but I want to highlight here how the human dimension of terroir
becomes an ontological category which assumes material contours, and transforms into lifestyle,
eating choices and existential decisions. Embracing terroir hence becomes a way to position
oneself within a tradition, to state one’s identity.

As in the controversy between modernist and traditionalist winemakers from Langhe described by
Negro et al. (2007), terroir provides a frame of collective identity amongst wine producers who

7
www.langhevini.it

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did not want to switch to the use of barrique to produce Barolo. In fact, in the 1970s a group of
winemakers from Langhe decided to adopt the Burgundian barrique to create a wine with softer
tannins and fruity notes that better fitted the modern American palates.8 Barolo wine, which was
used to be aged in large Slavonian barrels after long macerations and uncontrolled fermentation,
had acquired its distinctiveness due to this traditional technology which was said to reveal the
potential of Nebbiolo variety and its terroir. Those winemakers who refused to introduce the
barrique rallied against what they perceived as a homogenisation of taste and a loss of regional
identity. For them, being winemakers was anchored to the expression of a traditional taste, which
in turn was the result of traditional practices connected to the idea of terroir. At the beginning of
the 2000s, some of these traditional wine producers joined the group ViniVeri (“real wines”) with
the aim of resisting the industrialization of viticulture and winemaking and defending the
authenticity of their wines.9 To do so, they outlined some basic rules such as the use of indigenous
yeasts, the rejection of controlled temperature during fermentation and, more generally, a non-
interventionist approach in the cellar. This group, together with VinNatur and Vi.Te, still
represents an important voice in the fragmented Italian natural wine movement.

4.2.4 Born without terroir: Costanza’s case study

Terroir is a fundamental category for those producing natural wines, especially in a region with a
strong French influence such as Piedmont. For Livia and her family, this rootedness to their place
of origin has been inherited through generations and is displayed as such through multiple means:
the way they consciously define themselves as bearers of local traditional knowledge in
winemaking; the gastronomic competence they possess in evaluating the traditional food they eat
and the wine they drink; their everyday use of local ways to speak about the weather or activities
to do in the vineyard (which are now disappearing among the young population); the pride they
take in finding linguistic connections between their dialect and French; not least, the value they
attach to their wines as authentic products of terroir. However, this cultural and symbolic capital
they can count on is not readily available to all natural wine producers working in Piedmont, as in
the case of Costanza and her partner.

Since the beginning their idea was to produce natural wines, using just organic grapes without any
chemical additives in the cellar. Now, they own nearly seven hectares of vineyard which surround

8
This group of innovative winemakers and the story of their battles against traditional winemaking are the
subject of the Italian documentary Barolo Boys: storia di una rivoluzione Barolo Boys: storia di una
rivoluzione (2014) Directed by Casalis, P. and Gaia, T. Stuffilm Creativeye..
9
ViniVeri is one of the three main associations of natural wine producers in Italy that I described in the
previous chapter.

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their property. They chose those plots because the plants there are all old vines planted between
the 1955 and the 1985, and inscribed to the regional DOCG register which includes those
vineyards that can potentially produce DOCG wines due to their prolonged association to the local
area. One of their plots has a further legal mention as vigna storica (“historical vineyard”), as the
vines were planted there before the 1960s. They preferred to work with local grape varieties in
order to better express the full potential of that territory. The age of their vines represented a
further incentive to their choice, as they believe that old plants are more adapted to the soil and
the climate of the area and so produce distinct quality wines. As Costanza told me referring to her
vigna storica, “I really do care about this vineyard, as it makes a wine which is anyway different.
We basically have three vineyards…and even though we are microscopic, we care of vinifying
them separately, as for both the Dolcetto and the Barbera (two local red grape varieties), so the
Barbera (wine) which comes from this vineyard is made only with Barbera from this
vineyard…effectively the wines then are different”. (interview 04/09/17)

The home page of their appealing website hosts the main message concerning their production:
“highly suitable terroir, old vineyards, Piedmont-native grapes”. The appeal to terroir is an explicit
asset of their work as winegrowers. Their approach to vinification is coherent with their alignment
to the terroir logic. In fact, they have a diversified production that takes into account the
differences between plots and, in some cases, even within the same plot they vinify single parcels
separately (to produce what is called cru in the French world of wine). The result of this operation
are different variations of Dolcetto and Barbera, two red wines which are made with the two
homonymous grape varieties. Besides them, Costanza also produces a white wine obtained
through the local variety Cortese, and two other types of red wines from Albarossa and Nebbiolo
(all of them are local grape varieties). Each of her wines are named after words or expressions of
the local dialect dating from the second half of the 19th century, which have been recovered by
Costanza and her partner as part of their research efforts in rediscovering the rural history of the
area connected to farming and winemaking. In their historical investigation they have found out
the etymology of the toponym and a description of the local terroir dating back to the middle of
the 19th century when Piedmont was part of the Savoy Kingdom. On their website they use these
archival references to emphasise the favourable geographical conditions of the area and its
glorious past as a renown viticultural region.10 It is interesting to note how for Costanza, a
newcomer to the world of wine, a historical reference to the specificities of the local terroir
represents something that adds value to her work as a natural wine producer. Other evidence of

10
The main author quoted is Goffredo Casalis, a clergyman and historian who wrote a twenty-eight-volume
collection of geographical and political accounts about all districts under the Savoy Kingdom.

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this can be found in the way she is actively engaged in a collective project that reunites the small
producers of the area to restore the prestige of the Dolcetto d’Ovada DOCG, a red wine produced
in this area. In 2013, Costanza was one of the co-founders of the new consorzio of Dolcetto
d’Ovada DOCG, which aims at promoting the potential of this local red wine and the entire area of
production11. With a misleading name (dolcetto indeed means “a bit sweet”) that does not convey
the nature of this grape variety, Dolcetto is being promoted as a structured and tannic wine that
can age well. Since 2013, the consortium has been working to collect local memories of traditional
winemaking methods, emphasising the artisanal type of production and fostering a sense of
supportive collaboration amongst its members.12 This commitment to the institutional recognition
of Dolcetto is for Costanza a way to feel included in a local network of young wine producers who
share her vision about the promotion of their wines and the place where they work. As I will argue
more in detail in chapter 6, it is also a strategic attempt to be actively involved into the local
processes of decision-making concerning the quality specifications of the local appellation of
origin.

Livia and her family represent themselves as a “living tradition”, an expression she used to define
her family’s daily engagement with the local traditional culture, food, dialect and winegrowing
practices. As I showed, they do not feel the need to be directly involved in the local consorzio or
association of wine producers to ensure legitimacy of their work and identity as natural
winegrowers. Costanza instead expresses her connection to terroir through her reflexive work as
a highly educated winegrower and engagement with the local community of second-generation,
young wine producers who share her same vision.

4.3 Navigating the organic certification landscape

The kind of reflexive and strategic engagement that my informants exhibit in their attachment to
terroir and locality is also found in the way they critically approach organic certification as a
means to confer meaning to their work. As a practice, natural winegrowing embraces different
perspectives about producing wine without the recourse to chemical additives. As I argued in the
previous chapter, the lack of agreement about a shared definition for this category of wine can be
indeed explained by the multitude of approaches which characterises this method. Besides the

11
The denominazione di origine controllata (DOC) for Dolcetto d’Ovada dates back to 1972, and represents
the first DOC for Dolcetto wines in the whole Piedmont. In 2008 the Dolcetto d’Ovada obtained also the
denominazione di origine controllata e garantita (DOCG). In 2019, the Piedmont region officially proclaimed
Dolcetto as the wine of year, evidence of the successful work of promotion done by the Consortium of
Dolcetto d’Ovada DOCG at regional level.
12
www.ovada.eu/2019

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expression of terroir, there is common agreement that the grapes should come from organic (or
biodynamic) agriculture. As the raw fruit is the core element in this non-interventionist
winemaking approach, a lot of attention is paid to the way grapes are cultivated. If we have a look
at the diverse quality charters of the main European associations of natural wine producers, one
of the basic requirements are indeed healthy grapes from organic agriculture. The key rules to be
considered an organic vine-grower pertain to the rejection of any pesticides and herbicides in the
vineyard and the use of organic manure as a fertiliser. The use of sulphur- and copper-based
fungicides is allowed to prevent the plants from getting the two most common diseases, that is
Oidium and downy mildew. Most natural wine producers decide to pay an institutional
certification body to guarantee they work under an organic agricultural regime. Still, they do not
identify themselves as organic wine producers and the organic logo does not usually appear on
their labels. In what follows, I try to explain this apparently contradictory attitude by looking at
organic farming as a social movement intersecting rural histories, EU policies and individual
trajectories.

4.3.1 Organic farming as a social movement

Before looking at the specific legislation on organic wine and the way it is (critically) embraced by
my informants, I will briefly trace the historical development of European organic farming in order
to have a better understanding of its original significance as a social movement opposed to
conventional agriculture. I do so because my informants identify as organic farmers due to the
importance they pay to agriculture and viticulture in their work as natural wine producers. As
small-scale producers contesting intensive conventional agriculture and its underlying exploitative
logic, they share the same issues and, in some cases, the same responses as those organic farmers
belonging to alternative food movements. Part of the criticism surrounding the legal certification
of organic foodstuffs at EU level and its consequences on the market is also found among natural
wine producers in relation to the European legislation on organic wine.

It has been argued that the European organic sector has been more politically and ideologically
loaded compared to its US counterpart (Michelsen, 2001; Barham, 2002), and that is somehow
reflected in the way academic research on alternative agri-food networks has developed in the
two continents (Goodman, 2003). European organic movements indeed emerged as a reaction
against conventional agriculture in a historical context (the years between the two World Wars)
which had witnessed an unprecedented situation of soil degradation, low food quality and
changing attitudes towards rural life (Vogt, 2007). Developed first in German-speaking countries
(Germany, Austria and Switzerland), the first pioneering attempts carried out by few farmers in
the 1920s and 1930s were informed by a science-based theory and food reform movements that

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acknowledged the decrease of soil fertility and at the same time the deterioration of rural
traditional knowledge. Around the same period of time, biodynamic agriculture made its
appearance within Steiner’s esoteric circle. In 1924, the Austrian founder of anthroposophy gave
eight lectures on agriculture to a public formed mainly by farmers coming from Germany and
Poland (Paull, 2011). Demeter, the first certification system of its kind to be founded, was
introduced in 1928 and it is still used as a worldwide trademark by biodynamic farmers to certify
their own products. Its private standards were initially general guidelines prohibiting the use of
synthetic fertilisers and pesticides, which had to be replaced by biodynamically treated manure.
Over time, these quality standards have become more detailed. Nowadays, they cover six
different areas including production, processing, labelling, winemaking, apiculture and
cosmetics.13

The perception and significance of organic farming itself did not remain the same over time. As
Schmid (2007) observes, organic agriculture was first intended as a natural form of farming that
discarded chemicals and pesticides, and whose application was extended on a limited area of
European land by a small number of farmers, mainly in Germany, Austria, Switzerland and
England. It was not until the 1970s that organic farming significantly spread across Europe and
overseas as a recognised and effective alternative to industrial agriculture. As Lockeretz (2007)
points out, the reasons of that rapid growth are diverse and a definitive explanation is still not
possible. This was partly due to the countercultural movements of the late 1960s with their
emphasis on coming back to the land, and the wider social and political activism during the
Vietnam War that reacted against the massive use of chemicals weapons. Moreover, European
consumers became more aware of environmental issues and food safety, especially regarding the
use of pesticides and chemical additives and their disastrous effects both on the environment and
on farmers’ own health. What Michelsen (2001: 3-4) notes about this diffused criticism over
mainstream agriculture is that organic farming since the beginning has successfully managed to
define itself in opposition to conventional agriculture and, more in general, to a static agricultural
model which has become a subsidised sector separated from other parts of society. The
transformative potential of organic agriculture needs then to be found in the way it has changed
the interrelationships between agriculture and society. As a social movement, organic farming
indeed developed from a broad social basis (farmers, consumers, scientists, traders and ordinary
citizens) not connected to conventional agriculture, which instead is characterised by closed
networks, fragmentation and lack of societal involvement in relation to policy development.

13
www.demeter.net

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As organic farming movements and private certification systems multiplied over time, the need to
coordinate the different activities undertaken by private certifiers and farmer associations
became an urgent issue at national and international levels. Since the 1980s, the market
expanded becoming more globalised and competition amongst private standard-setting
organisations arose, making consumers confused about the meaning of organic farming. As a
result, the need to find common denominators among the numerous existing standards emerged
as a necessity, as well as a way to be more cohesive against each state authority. To that end, in
1972 a mixed group of European organic farmers, consumers and scientists funded IFOAM
(International Federation of Organic Agriculture Movements) with the aim to control and regulate
organic farming standards at European level, and provide consumers with reliable information
about organic food production.14 Since the 1980s, IFOAM started an EU-focused lobbying activity
to promote organic farming internationally. The international federation was able to take part in
the discussion around the meaning of organic farming at EU legislative level. The first EU
regulation on organic food production (Regulation (EEC) No 2092/91) was in fact the result of this
lobbying action IFOAM carried forward during the drafting process (Geier, 2007). It is no
coincidence then that certified organic viticulture took its first steps in Germany and Austria,
where the organic consciousness had made its first appearance. Indeed, these two European
countries were the first to develop coherent guidelines and quality standards for organic wine
producers.15

4.3.2 Organic farming in Italy

If we move to the Mediterranean countries and Italy in particular, where there is a long history of
peasantry and share-cropping systems, the emergence of organic farming movements takes on
specific characteristics (Pratt, 2009). According to a recent statistical survey published by Eurostat,
after Spain and France, Italy represents the country with the largest total organic area, accounting
for nearly 2 million hectares.16 At EU level, Spain (16.7%), France (15.1%), Italy (14.6%) and
Germany (9.1%) together make up 55.5% of the total organic area of the Union. According to
SINAB (the National Information System on Organic Agriculture), Italy is the first European
country for organic olive trees, fruit and vegetables as well as the second in the world in terms of

14
The not-for-profit federation still works as the main coordinating body on an international scale, and it
counts nowadays more than 300 affiliated organisations including consumers, farmers, research, education,
certification bodies and commercial organic companies, that work to promote organic agriculture and
environmental sustainability (www.ifoam.bio).
15
Ecovin, the German Organic Winemaking Association, was founded in 1985.
16
https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/statistics-explained/index.php/Organic_farming_statistics

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land allocated to organic vineyards (over 105,000 hectares which account for 15.8% of the
national vineyard surface).17

In analysing the trajectory of alternative food movements such as organic farming in Italy, Pratt
(2009) argues that we need to consider its specific agrarian history and how that has shaped the
relationships between capitalist and non-capitalist forms of production. In a country whose
agricultural sector is still characterised by a large number of small farmers, it is important to take
into account both the long-term variations in the national agrarian organization and the specific
rationality that shapes small-scale and household-based production. The latter refers to the
values, choices and types of knowledge that are meaningful for those living and working within
this sector. Capitalist notions of labour, land, money and time and their mutual relationships have
been applied to a small-scale, household-based system of production across different timescales
and trajectories that result in a complex and varied picture (Pratt, 1994). Moreover, the
mechanization and industrialisation of agriculture, together with the introduction of new
chemical fertilisers and pesticides, transformed the whole agricultural economy at a national
level. I will expand on these major changes in the next chapter, when I will deal with the division
of labour and household composition of those small-scale wine businesses which are part of the
specific context of my study. For now, I want to point out the fact that organic farming in Italy
historically represents one of the outcomes of wider changes in the agricultural sector investing
the country after the end of the Second World War and the following decades. Starting as an
alternative movement proposing a more sustainable agriculture which points towards
biodiversity, a more efficient energy use, and a gradual independence from industrial inputs (in
particular chemical fertilisers), organic farming has gradually taken up normative connotations
since legal certification bodies have started to operate.

Against this scenario, organic farmers have embraced different strategies. As Pratt and Luetchford
(2014) argue, drawing from ethnographic case studies of small-scale producers in Europe, the
approaches and motivations expressed by organic producers to adhere or not to certification are
various and contrasting, thus reflecting the complexity of choices, practices and orientations
within this scenario. On one hand the organic certification seems to protect and guarantee the
quality of food products against frauds and other competitors, and adds monetary value through
premium prices. On the other hand, the bureaucracy involved to obtain an organic label translates
into an expensive and time-consuming process. As these systems of traceability and certification

17
Assobio (2019) Global organic production: Italy among top leaders. Available at:
http://www.sinab.it/node/22428 (Accessed: 10th March 2020).

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are regulated by the European Union, it means that these local products enter simultaneously
wider political and commercial arenas where the cultural and social values attached to this type of
production become assimilated into the capitalist market. The outcome of this process of
appropriation tends to favour more retailers and large-scale producers than small growers, who
have to sustain disproportionate costs to get their own products certified. In order to meet the
demands of the international trade (and, more subtly, the interests of industrial and commercial
lobbies that have invested in organic production), the EU certification applies uniform sets of
regulations that deprive organic agriculture from its original values of environmental sustainability
and social responsibility. The result is then a mere list of substances legally permitted, which is
applied profitably by large-scale producers and small farmers alike. Amongst the latter, there are
differences in the way certified agriculture is being perceived and applied. The most critical ones
disregard the official set of regulations, as promoting larger commercial interests only. Others
take advantage of it in terms of its higher financial return. Therefore, the alternatives seem
multiple and different, making “organic” a source of debate and contestation amongst small
farmers, including natural wine producers (Pratt, 2007).

4.3.3 The EU legislation on organic wine

In legal terms, the development of a specific European legislation regulating the production of
organic wine has been a long and debated process. In 1991, the EU commission issued a set of
rules (EEC No 209 2/91) to regulate organic food production, including grapes. However, wine as
the processed product of grapes, was not subject to any specific legislation. As a result, it was
possible to report on the label “wine from organic grapes” only. Until 2012, organic wine did not
in fact represent a legally recognised product category in the EU, whereas other non-European
countries such as the USA, Chile and Australia were already equipped with standards for organic
wines.18 Meanwhile, the larger organic food sector saw increasing expansion, reflecting the
effects of the scandals that hit the European food supply chain in the early 2000s (as described in
the previous chapter). It became then an economic priority to regulate the production of organic
wine as well, whose sales volume was witnessing a steady growth both in Europe and abroad.
Wine producers pushed to have a common legal reference framework which would harmonise
the private quality standards that were already being adopted by individual organic farmer
associations (IFOAM, 2013). After a long-debated process of negotiation amongst European
institutions, certification bodies and wine lobby groups, the European Commission presented a

18
https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/IP_12_113

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regulation in 2012 (No 203/2012), containing detailed rules for organic winemaking and
introducing the new EU organic wine logo.

However, the new legislation was harshly criticised by the majority of private associations of
organic and natural winegrowers. They found that the rules were too lax, particularly in relation
to the vinification process and the addition of oenological additives in the cellar. According to the
existing regulation indeed, more than thirty oenological substances can be added to artificially
adjust the wine. The associations of organic and natural growers were particularly unhappy with
the amount of sulphites allowed for each category of wine, which largely exceeded the level they
had set in their own quality charters (Mercer, 2012; Bietti, 2013). Natural wine producers were
also disappointed by the lack of a clear position concerning the use of indigenous yeasts, the pillar
of the natural winemaking approach. According to the EU regulation, naturally occurring yeasts
are not considered compulsory for wine fermentation.19

When I discussed organic wines with my informants, I understood that for them wine production
is not framed as a regulatory matter but is strongly determined by their underlying individual
choices, values and beliefs. Our discussions about organic certification and the criticism raised by
some of them, enabled me to better grasp the meaning of natural winemaking as it is practised by
my informants. These winegrowers have divergent attitudes towards organic certification per se
and its application to their products. To some of them, the organic wine certification does not
represent a proper means to guarantee the quality of their wines. Even more, for these
winegrowers associating their products with the organic category can have a negative impact on
their sales, as consumers’ perception of organic wines is still not uniform and is not always
positively connoted (Stolz and Schmid, 2008; Delmas and Lessem, 2017; Schäufele and Hamm,
2017).

As described above, these winegrowers are not satisfied by the existing EU legislation that
permits the use of various additives in the cellar and processes involving high-tech gadgetry
during winemaking. Nonetheless, they believe in the foundational principles of organic farming,
being active supporters themselves of the ideas and practices implied by the original standards of
organic agriculture. For this reason, they decide to be certified just as organic farmers with
respect to their vineyards, without adhering to the organic wine protocol. Others admit the
imperfect nature of the existing EU legal certification, still they prefer to make explicit their
adherence to the organic protocol. These producers strategically use the certification as a sort of

19
The only explicit reference to yeasts is found in the final annex of the regulation, where the specification
to their use is just “if available, derived from organic raw material” (European Commission, 2012: L 71/47).

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calling card, which needs to be complemented by a stricter quality protocol more attuned to their
views. One of them is Virginia, a certified organic and biodynamic wine producer who works in the
Monferrato hills, in Piedmont.

4.3.4 Virginia

As Virginia explains to me, “the beginning of my experience with the vines and biodynamic went
hand in hand, they represented one single thing. I found the biodynamic method early on, I hadn’t
planted the vines yet but I had decided to plant them, and I had obviously thought it would be an
organic choice, that I would seek an organic certification…but I soon realised what ‘organic’ could
mean, and I didn’t like what I was realising, especially this ‘organic’ which was conveyed by a
trade association, it was something really grim, totally pointless and unreliable, it was not clear
the difference compared to a conventional approach. Instead, I well understood the difference
when I came across biodynamic”. Indeed, one of the most common critiques directed at organic
wine certification is that the whole act of producing wine is reduced to a mere “method”, to a list
of allowable substances that simply work to ensure the green logo on the label. This reductionist
approach to organic agriculture, “where practice is defined by reference to material lists of
allowed inputs, is consistent with the choice of production and market enhancement as the
warranted terrain of discourse and regulation”, Goodman argues in relation to the recent scaling
up of the US organic food production (Goodman, 2000: 216). In a global market where organic
foodstuffs command a premium price, agri-businesses and conventional agriculture are
increasingly capturing the alternative values underlying organic production, absorbing them into
the corporate capitalist economy (Goodman, 2000; Guthman, 2004; Pratt, 2009). If an emphasis
on the moment of production has been one of the key aspects of organic agriculture and other
alternative food movements to show transparency and raise awareness amongst consumers, the
risk is that once this discourse transforms into a regulatory practice it can be absorbed by the
techno-scientific discourse dominating food safety at institutional level. According to Allen and
Kovach (2000), the problem lies in the fact that the philosophical foundations of organic
agriculture, that is a commitment to holism and ecological sensitivity, are not easily translated
into a systematic set of standards. The result, according to the two scholars, is that organic
agriculture has been dissected into component parts and reduced to a list of allowable inputs.
When the original values, which historically emerged within the counter-cultural movements of
the 1970s and are still shared by other alternative food networks, are transformed into a set of
regulations to meet criteria of economic efficiency and face market competition, the substantial
difference between organic and conventional agriculture gets erased. Against this scenario, wine
producers such as Virginia are highly critical about the way organic farming has been reduced to

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an “input-substitution” approach (Rosset and Altieri, 1997) that does not convey their own ethos
as natural winegrowers. For them, the organic wine certification is then not enough to
communicate the meaning of their work to consumers and that is why they have sought more
encompassing systems of beliefs such as biodynamic that can better express their approach to
agriculture and winemaking.

According to Virginia, the modern biodynamic method relies on more coherent, strict, accessible
and clear agronomic principles compared to organic certification. The main difference regards the
total lack of direct intervention on the winemaking process, which contrasts with the legally
permitted addition of oenological additives and adjuvants (crucially yeasts) that can be used in
the cellar. She is also critical about Demeter certification as she thinks that it has imposed a single,
univocal vision of biodynamic, which reduces the latter to a simple branding logo. Instead, the
modern biodynamic method adapts the foundational principles outlined by Steiner in 1924 to the
modern structuring of biodynamic farms and meets practical needs of contemporary
winegrowers, for example obtaining the main biodynamic preparations used to spray the vines
through international suppliers.20 Virginia’s wines are then certified using the trademark logo
designed by Leonello Anello, I vini biodinamici, which indicates the producer’s adherence to the
criteria of the modern biodynamic method.

Still, Virginia also pays a certification body to label her wines as organic. According to her, the
organic certification represents the ground zero to communicate the characteristics of her wines
and the type of work she undertakes in the vineyard to consumers. Compared to private
certifications, such as Demeter and the same I vini biodinamici, the legal recognition that organic
farming holds at EU level constitutes for her a further guarantee in differentiating her wines from
conventional ones. Along the same line, she agrees with the use of natural to classify her wines,
considering this definition as an initial, easy attempt to signal the difference from conventional
wines. Speaking about the EU legislation on organic certification, she is also in favour of a more
detailed label which should clearly list all the ingredients used to produce wine. Wine represents
indeed an outstanding exception amongst the food products regulated by the existing EU and
national legislations. Even though wine is legally considered as a ‘processed food product’, there
is no obligation of reporting all the ingredients used to produce it. On a wine label, it is
compulsory to state the alcohol content and allergens only. That is why natural wine associations
such as ViniVeri have been pushing the national authorities to obtain what they call a

20
http://www.viticolturabiodinamica.it/manifesto.php. Biodynamic preparations are divided into two main
types: spray preparations and compost preparations. The former include Horn Manure and Horn Silica (also
called preparations 500 and 501), and are obtained by burying in the ground cow horns filled up with cow
manure and quartz meal, respectively.

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“transparent label” (etichetta trasparente), which should contain all the information regarding the
ingredients used and the processes behind wine production.21 It is interesting to note that
producers such as Virginia, who cannot initially rely on a family name as they are newcomers to
the sector, are willing to find in organic and private certifications (and the exhibition of logos on
their labels) a valid surrogate of their initial lack of social capital within the wine circuits.

4.3.5 Livia

From a different standpoint, there are wine producers such as Livia who certify their vineyards as
organic but there is no trace of it on their labels. In Livia’s words, “we believe that our work is way
more rigid and stricter compared to what is required. The (organic) certification has loose
inclusion criteria that, according to us, do not represent us, do not add anything more, instead
they belittle our work. We certify our wines just to be within the law so that as you speak about
natural, organic agriculture, you can prove that you effectively do that, even if, I repeat, organic
certification has more enlarged bands because it allows a lot of other substances. Yet, there are a
few clients abroad that even if it is not on the label they request the certification, but for us it is a
starting point, a basic thing but actually our work is completely different, way more radical than
what is required by law” (interview 23/01/17). The organic certification of their vineyards
functions as a requested legal device when they export their wines to foreign countries such as
Norway, Denmark and Japan where organic products (and among them, wines) are highly in
demand due to their green status but are subject to stricter regulations.

Producers such as Livia and her family, share the values of organic agriculture but they are highly
critical of the criteria regulating the wine production process. A small but nevertheless telling
evidence of this approach is offered by the message written on the property sign which welcomes
the visitor to their estate: Vini e vigne in cultura biologica (wines and vines in organic culture),
where the intended wordplay between coltura (crop) and cultura (culture) discloses their critical
stance on the meaning of organic. For them, being organic farmers relates to the way they intend
their relationship with nature, which in turn is informed by what Livia refers to as their culture
and savoir faire as artisanal winegrowers. Producing naturally does not equate to ticking a list of
allowable ingredients but is instead the result of a more encompassing engagement with a
specific place, of which Livia considers herself (and her family) as an entitled interpreter.

21
The 2015 edition of the annual wine fair organised by ViniVeri was entirely dedicated to the promotion of
a transparent label: https://www.viniveri.net/en/notizie/verso-unetichetta-trasparente/

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I would add that, compared to Virginia, Livia possesses enough social capital to sell her wines as
natural without a legal recognition of their type of production, and without disclosing their status
of certified organic winegrowers. Being one of the first Italian natural wine producers to join the
alternative French wine circuits (as I will describe below), she now can count on a vast network of
sales contacts spanning three continents. Even the way she defines (or better, does not define)
natural wine reflects this self-confidence as a producer: “over the past few years the consumer
has got used to a certain standardised type of wine, which ultimately is not wine as I don’t call
‘wine’ a conventional wine, so you have to explain to the consumer what is a real wine, which is
made through natural practices, respecting nature, respecting the grape, etc. so it is really a gap
what it was created in the last twenty, thirty years. So (understanding what a natural wine is)
shouldn’t be something so mental (…) if your wine is healthy, genuine, good, and done in a certain
way, you don’t need to justify or always say what you do not do, actually it is the others who have
a deviant oenological practice, not us. Ours is wine, full stop.” (interview 23/01/17)

In contexts characterised by a strong, renown history in winemaking such as Piedmont, and


specifically in small-scale realities which bear a long family tradition in the sector such as Livia’s,
certification devices run parallel to other quality indicators. Pratt (2014) analyses the effects of
the recent exposure to market forces of a family-farming system in the Tuscan countryside and
the transformations of the values attached to this mode of production. He focuses on the
differences in the way local foodstuffs are appreciated by tourists and local customers, in a global
scenario where ‘authenticity’ and ‘locality’ represent a counterpoint to modernity and food
industrialisation, and translate into products fetching premium prices on the market. In describing
the wine consumption pattern by tourists on one hand, and local customers on the other, Pratt
argues that for the latter “the lack of a label (especially if the wine is from a famous district like
Brunello) is evidence of the quality of a person’s social network, as well as an implicit critique of
certification and those who rely on it.” (Pratt, 2014: 88-89). In the case of a niche market such as
that of natural wines, I argue that this notion of network is paramount to the commercial viability
of a small-scale, artisanal production which currently does not bear any recognised legal status (as
opposed to the organic counterpart). I will now examine this key aspect of natural wine
distribution, which goes back to the historical constitution of the natural wine movement and
highlights further dimensions of this kind of production.

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4.4 The natural wine network

4.4.1 The roots of the network and its main actors

Before being widely addressed as a “global phenomenon” by wine critics, journalists and other
cultural intermediaries working in the sector, natural wines emerged as a loose network of
producers sharing the same approach to viticulture and winemaking. As I outlined in the previous
chapter, the European movement of natural winegrowers was constituted by scattered groups of
producers from different wine-growing regions who reacted against the industrialisation of
agriculture, the standardisation of taste and homologation to criteria set by institutional legal
frameworks such as the national systems of denominations. These initial informal networks of
producers proved to be essential to the creation of subsequent, more structured associations that
have multiplied in the last decades across Europe. Within these former groups, charismatic figures
such as the French biodynamic wine producer Nicolas Joly managed to attract numerous
producers to more sustainable practices and promote a positive image around alternative
winemaking practices.22 Indeed, it was Joly who invited few Italian natural winemakers to join his
association Renaissance des Appellations in 2001, and fostered the creation of the first association
of its kind in Italy in 2004, ViniVeri.23 In tracing the development of French biodynamic viticulture,
Garcia-Parpet (2014) observes how much important networks have been to the creation of a
market share for biodynamic wines in France. The private associations of winegrowers,
particularly those which counted many well-known wine estates among their members, became
successful over time and attracted both winemakers and consumers. That was definitively the
case of Joly’s Renaissance des Appellations, whose effective promotional events and solid
communication skills provided its members with commercial success and market opportunities
(2014: 106). Professional fairs and tasting events in various parts of the world have become the
main means to promote the approach applied by these associations, which also have created
private quality charters to guarantee the respect of strict production standards. In a moment
where the hegemony of French fine wines was seriously threatened by the rising success of New
World countries, biodynamic and natural wines could count on increasing demands from abroad,
especially Japan.24

22
The role of Nicolas Joly in the creation of the French and Italian natural wine movement has been
described in the previous chapter.
23
https://www.viniveri.net/notizie/lettera-di-giovanna-morganti/
24
Japan still represents one of main importers of natural and biodynamic wines not only from France but
also from Italy.

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Another fundamental factor in the initial (and current) acceptance of this kind of wines has been
the press, whose promotional force has managed to advertise small producers otherwise left
under the radar, and praise the high-quality of their wines. The same is argued by Smith Maguire
(2019), who analyses the emergence and globalisation of natural wines in sociological terms using
the Bourdieu’s concept of cultural field: a network of sites, texts, producers and consumers that
generates practices, meanings, and values of particular cultural objects and activities (2019: 176).
The author focuses on the important role played by cadres of producers and intermediaries, and
the spaces of production and consumption dedicated to these wines. Renowned producers, wine
critics, bloggers and sommeliers have had an influential role in legitimizing and promoting these
wines within international and global circuits. The same holds for dedicated wine fairs such as the
annual RAW fair organised by the most vocal natural wine’s champion, the French Master of Wine
Isabelle Legeron.25

Figure 8 The entrance to the RAW natural-wine fair in Central London (photo by author)

Prestigious restaurants and high-profile wine bars, such as the Michelin-starred Noma in
Copenhagen and the Parisian La Muse Vin, confer prestige to the legion of natural producers
whose wines appear on their lists.

25
https://www.rawwine.com

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Looking at the Italian case and in particular my informants’ accounts, I have found the same
dynamic. All winegrowers I got in contact with are active members of one of the three main
Italian associations of natural wine producers, or promote their wines at the major national and
international fairs dedicated to this niche market.26 The role of network, be that formally
structured as an association or more informally as groups of friends or acquaintances, has been
fundamental in the trajectories of my informants. During one of my visits to Livia, I asked her to
map her own network of contacts linked to her work as a natural wine producer. At first, I had
thought that Livia’s case could be just an example of what happens within the Italian natural
wine’s network at large. But as I had to add more and more sheets to my paper map to draw the
web of arrows and lines she was orally tracing, I soon realised that Livia’s network was in a way
paradigmatic. Mapping her contacts was tantamount to tracing the historical developments of
most part of the Italian natural wine movement (see Appendix D).

As Livia told me, until the early 2000s this kind of wines were simply referred to as vins des
vignerons (winegrowers’ wines) within the early French circuits. According to her, the debated
expression “natural wines” came at a later stage of the diffusion of these wines. The first French
fair Livia attended as a producer in 2001, called Vin Passion and organised in the area of Lyon, still
today does not bear any natural connotations whatsoever. On their promotional website, we can
just read their project is about “spreading a culture of social wine (…) To organize a real meeting
and not yet another fair. Our indicator of success for these meeting is mainly the pleasure that we
share, helped by a whole network of friends, to prepare and live these two days with the
winemakers and the visitors”. 27 In fact, it is in these terms that Livia and my other informants
describe the excitement of attending these fairs. It is first of all about meeting friends and
colleagues who live in different regions and work on their vines and in their cellars. These wine
fairs are also the occasion to try the wines made by other producers and in this way to train one’s
own taste, as one of my informants told me. While during most of the year a producer is
concentrated on tasting and adjusting her own wine through the different phases from must
fermentation up to bottling, in special events such as fairs and organised wine tastings there is the
possibility to wander around the different stands and sip the wines made by other producers.
Some of these fairs, especially the ones which have been on the longest, are described by my
informants as a proper festa (party).

26
These associations are: ViniVeri, VinNatur and Vi.Te. I introduced them in the previous chapter.
27
https://www.rencontresvinpassion.com/a-propos-de-nous

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4.4.2 Natural wine fairs

Vini di Vignaioli (winegrowers’ wines), organised every first weekend of November in Fornovo di
Taro (in Parma province), is the Italian natural wine fair which counts the highest number of
editions at national level. In the local exhibition centre of this small Italian commune, for two days
an increasing number of natural and biodynamic producers mainly from Italy and France gather
together for the pleasure of meeting each other and sharing the passion for their work. The fair,
which was created following the example of the earlier French wine salons (as it is clear also from
its name), represents the most awaited annual event for these producers. I personally had the
chance to attend three different editions of this fair (in 2015, 2017, and 2018). I could observe
how the number of attendees visibly increased from year to year, along with the number of
producers involved. Amongst the fairs I managed to take part in, Vini di Vignaioli indeed
differentiates itself for the high content of sociability that flows from stand to stand over the two
days of the event. It is common to find groups of winegrowers amicably discussing and drinking
together at one colleague’s stand, without much concern of leaving their own posts unattended.
The organisers do not allocate producers’ stands according to their region of provenance, so that
the public can roam around the numerous stalls without a specific order. The festive atmosphere
is quite infectious, there are greetings yelled from one corner to the other, hands shaken, hugs
exchanged and bursts of laughter echoing all around. But mostly, there is wine which is constantly
poured and sipped from the glasses given to each visitor at the entrance, which are included in
the ticket price. If they survive the day, these glasses then become souvenirs that crowd the
domestic cupboards of visitors and producers alike, forming large collections as I have seen in my
informants’ houses. Towards the end of the day, the level of conviviality and alcohol consumed
reach the peak and the fair transforms into a proper celebration. Glasses are raised, toasts
multiply and any clear distinction between producers and visitors vanishes as everyone move
freely around the fair to meet each other.

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Figure 9 The frescoed interiors of Villa Favorita which hosted VinNatur wine fair in April 2017
(photo by author)

Besides producers and the general public, the fair welcomes distributors, agents, wine critics,
journalists, and importers that taste and annotate on their diaries the latest wines produced and
other bottles from earlier vintages. A small section of the fair is occupied by editors of books and
specialised magazines dedicated to natural wines and other subjects connected to sustainable
agriculture, environmentalism and wine culture. These publications contribute to the
establishment and institutionalisation of natural wines as a cultural field and enable the
circulation of its discourse. Some of these cultural intermediaries also organise themed
conferences during the two days of the fair, which are open to everyone. Generally, these
conferences cover debated topics related to the practice of natural winemaking, such as the use
of copper in the vineyard or the role of the yeasts during fermentation. Indeed, one of the main
functions of these fairs resides in sharing the state-of-the-art of natural winemaking as an
agricultural and oenological practice. More informally, that takes the shape of a mutual exchange
of information and expertise matured on the field. During these fairs, producers indeed discuss
together about the problems they faced in the vineyard and in the cellar during the last vintage,
reciprocally looking for advises and new ideas to solve their own issues. Part of this exchange is
facilitated through wine, which is tasted and evaluated together as the tangible result of the work
and multiple decisions made throughout the year. In this sense, through their networks,
producers can share a great deal of knowledge, skills, and tricks to cope with the difficulties
encountered both in the vineyard and in the cellar.

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4.4.3 The role of producers and distributors within the network

Going back to Livia’s network of contacts, it is clear that producers indeed represent the focal
points of this network. While mapping her web of contacts, I gradually realised that single
producers (or small groups of them) constitute the main nodes of the whole network. Some of
these key producers are indeed the ones who organised the first natural wine fairs or dedicated
wine tastings in bars à vin in France in the late 1990s and early 2000s, which gathered wine
producers from different wine-growing regions. In some cases, these gatherings took the form of
informal parties where producers, clients and importers were all invited as guests. One example
was given to me by Livia, when she recalled the annual three-day party organised by the famous
Beaujolais wine producer Marcel Lapierre at his place in Villié-Morgon around the 14th of July
(National day in France), until his death in 2010. The party used to be an occasion to meet with
other producers in a convivial atmosphere marked by the sharing of large volumes of wine each
producer invited used to bring and offer. For more than a decade, Livia has been invited to join
Lapierre’s family and friends in an event characterised by the generosity and spirit of sharing of its
hosts. She recalled during the interview the sense of community created during those three days
where all guests would help out in the preparation of abundant meals, accompanied by bottles of
wine and late-night dances.

Producers not only create temporary communities, but also initiate fruitful commercial relations
for those winemaker friends not already known in the natural wine circuit. Livia’ story, is
illuminating in this regard. After meeting one of the first American importers interested in French
natural wines at a fair in the Loire region in 2002, the year after she organised for him a visit to
her winery where she also invited a small group of Italian like-minded producers. The visit, which
included an extended tasting of all the wines brought by the other guests, launched the beginning
of the exportation of Italian natural wines to the USA.28 According to Livia, producers are in fact
“the engines for the creation of new connections” (from recorded interview on 17/09/18), while
importers and distributors remain the hubs of this network. The latter in fact reunite many
producers from different countries in their respective lists, which are the result of working
relationships sustained over time. England-based Les Caves de Pyrene, one of the major natural
wine distributors, offers to its clients a wide selection of wines not only from France and Italy but
also from South Africa, Georgia and Argentina, evidence of the global ramifications of its thriving
business.29 Looking at Les Caves de Pyrene’s wine list is then like taking a snapshot of the current

28
For the majority of my informants, the US export sales represent their most profitable market share.
29
http://lescaves.co.uk/lescaves-home#home

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natural wine production scene around the world. Around each distributor and importer, especially
the most renown, there is a web of producers who engage with them to sell their own wines. The
wine lists of these selling companies somehow tend to reflect the personal taste and trajectories
of their owners. That is an interesting aspect that leads into the type of approach used to taste
and sell these wines, which is not based on points ranking systems used for conventional wines.

Going back to the difference in the role played by producers on one hand and importers or
distributors on the other, the former seem to remain the main propellers of the whole natural
wine network. This reflects the origins of the natural wine movement as it developed first in
France and later in the rest of Europe. As I argued, there were only scattered groups of wine
producers across different regions who would learn from each other how to make high quality
wine without using pesticides and other chemical additives. Still today, natural winegrowers rely
on the support provided by their network of like-minded producers. That is why annual fairs
which reunite them in the same venue for a few days are much-awaited social and professional
occasions.

4.4.4 Wine estates as centres of attraction: Isabella’s case study

Besides these events, the same wine estates function as centres of knowledge exchange and
formation for newcomers. The winery of Isabella, a Sicilian natural wine producer based in the
south-eastern province of Ragusa, is an example of a lively ‘community of practice’ (Lave and
Wenger, 1991). Isabella is one of the most famous Italian natural wine producers, with her annual
production getting all sold out soon after each harvest. Praised by both mainstream and natural
wine critics at national and international level, Isabella has become a point of reference for young
winegrowers as well as professionals who dream about working in the natural wine world. Her
modern winery where she tirelessly spends most of her time crafting her sought-after wines, is
constantly visited by both itinerant groups of tourists with a passion for wine, and producers and
professionals of the sector.

During the harvest season in particular, which is the busiest period of the year for any
winegrower, Isabella’s winery transforms into a small community of people living and working
together seven days a week for at least a fortnight. The first day I joined her during harvest in
September 2017, I was introduced to a team of ten people who had already been working in
Isabella’s cellar. A part from her permanent assistants (a group of local workers living nearby), the
rest of the team was an heterogenous group of people coming from different places and for
different reasons. There were two Italian Oenology undergraduate students who were doing their
internship, a young Spanish winegrower coming from a family of winegrowers and wanting to

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learn more about natural winemaking, an Italian sales agent working for one of the leading
national distributors of natural wines (the same who sells Isabella’s wine in Italy), and finally a
couple from Los Angeles working in the catering business. Each of them was there to get a
practical insight into wine production, learning from Isabella the different steps for making a
natural wine. While that took the shape of a proper apprenticeship for the interns and the young
winegrower, for the others it represented a unique chance to understand better the process
behind the bottles they were to sell or serve as part of their job. As Lave and Wenger (1991) posit,
a community of practice is based on the main tenet that learning is always situated in a social
context and is enacted by practice and doing. The newcomers learn by observing, listening to the
experts and engaging initially in what the two authors have termed ‘peripheral’ tasks. In the
learning environment of a cellar during the harvest season, these tasks comprise a series of
activities connected to the continuous arrival of crates full of harvested grapes from the vineyard:
this includes the manual selection of the single bunches before sending them to the destemmer,
pumping over the must from the bottom to the top of each tank, washing the empty crates and
pile them up to be used again, and keeping all the surfaces of the cellar thoroughly cleaned after
each operation. These tasks were performed daily by all of us, under the accurate supervision of
Isabella who would impart instructions and comment on what she was doing herself. In particular,
in this context the learning process acquires a specific sensorial connotation due to the very
nature of the activities undertaken. The cellar was in fact surrounded by the strong vinous smell
of the grapes already fermenting. The cellar was also invaded by the noise produced by the
destemmer, the pumping system that moved the grape mass into the tanks, and other machines
used to clean the floor such as pressure washers and water hoses. Besides sipping the must still
fermenting in the tanks to test the sugar levels, Isabella would draw us to pay attention also to
the temperature of the tank itself, as the fermentation process releases heat that can be detected
by posing a hand on the surface of the container. While I will describe in depth this multi-sensorial
apprenticeship in the following chapter, it is important to highlight at this stage that observing
Isabella’s wine making involved a highly sensory learning process. The novice or apprentice is not
only immediately immersed into a field of practice, but also engages with a complex reality where
all senses are at work. In this community of practice, the varying degree of expertise of each
person translated into differentiated tasks, involving peripheral and more central roles and
responsibilities. The two interns were immediately allowed to test with the densimeter the
residual level of sugar in the must every day, while others started to do so until after a period of
close observation. The same applied to the manual selection of the grapes, as it is essential to
assess the different types of rot before selecting or discarding each single cluster passing on the
conveyor belt.

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The social relationships created in this context of practice where learning takes place, usually
develop over time even after the harvest season and become part of the existing natural wine
network. They often transform in friendships and working relationships where wine remains the
binding force, the object of a common passion. For instance, one Oenology undergraduate
student who undertook his internship at Isabella’s estate a few years ago, works now as a maître
de salle in a Michelin-starred restaurant in the nearby Ragusa where he introduced Isabella’s
wines to the list. The same kind of promotion occurred with the couple from Los Angeles, who
have recently hosted Isabella at their place during one of her sales trips to the US West Coast.
Together they run a successful restaurant in Los Angeles where they serve only natural wines, and
one of them is also a successful sommelier, wine educator, restaurant manager and founder of a
wine subscription service and retail shop that selects natural wines from small producers
worldwide. The natural wine world is indeed characterised by these (sometimes long-distance)
friendly relationships that are nurtured through annual meetings such as fairs, wine tasting
events, and sales trips. It can be said that this connecting, global element represents the
counterpart of a reality that is highly rooted in a specific locality, from which wine production
ultimately draws its value. As in the case of Isabella, it is the local winery itself that becomes a hub
for further connections. It is the place where a community of practice is created during the
harvest season each year, but it also draws professionals working in the natural wine world
throughout the whole year.

During my fieldwork at her winery, I could observe how her place has become an attracting pole
for everyone working in the sector. In a single (and not ordinary) day, she received a Norwegian
Master of Wine who came with a troupe to interview her for a TV program dedicated to wine; a
Sicilian female chef who conducted a cooking show for the occasion; an acclaimed American
globe-trotter chef who owns one of the most awarded restaurants in Asia; finally, a group of
young Italian wine producers from Veneto region who informally came to make her taste their
wines. Isabella’s estate attracts all those different professional figures (sommeliers, critics,
restaurateurs, young winemakers) that are fundamental for the legitimation and global circulation
of natural wines.

4.4.5 Living in a (local) bubble

Her estate, which paradoxically remains a hidden universe at local level, represents one of the
main crossroads on the international natural wine map. Isabella’s extraordinary exposure to the
media is counterbalanced by her down-to-earth commitment to agriculture and winemaking. This
translates into a rigid daily routine which starts at 6 am in the morning and lasts until late
afternoon, depending on the time of the year. I will describe the practicalities of her work in the

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vineyard and in the cellar in the following chapter. For now, I want to underline how the local and
global dynamic of this reality acquires specific and somehow paradoxical connotations. Isabella’s
terroir wines are praised by the international press as they are the result of a virtuous system of
sustainable agriculture and winemaking. Still, her winery represents a sort of happy island in an
area where a generalised lack of care for the environment is object of continuous complaints by
local farmers like Isabella. Without delving here into a socio-political analysis of the state’s
profound inefficiencies in the south of the country (the waste management crisis being one of the
most visible outcomes), it is worth highlighting the discrepancy between Isabella’s agricultural
practices and what happens in close proximity to her winery. Isabella herself has to deal with the
lack of an efficient local administration on an everyday basis. It happens frequently that she has to
report to the local authority fires of garbage abandoned along the local provincial route, which
passes by her estate and (tellingly) gives the name to two of her wines. While I was at her place,
one day a German blogger came to visit her winery and her vineyards. When we passed by piles of
garbage disseminated on the road to her vineyards, Isabella ironically stated that what we were
seeing was an integral part of the local terroir. By saying that, Isabella expressed all her
disappointment towards a cultural substratum that characterised the local approach to public
good, but also agriculture and land use. In a region marked by a long history of landlordism and
migration, where still today the vast majority of the young population leave to find better
opportunities in the north of the country or abroad, Isabella’s choice represents indeed an
outstanding exception. Since her graduation in Oenology, she has been living and working in
Sicily, defending and promoting the local winemaking traditions that made the area one of the
most thriving (and yet today neglected) wine economies of the region. During these tours, Isabella
is proud to claim that the provincial road which passes by her estate is one of the oldest wine
routes in the whole country dating back to the Greek colonisation, evidence of the glorious past of
this area. Two of the wines she produces (her base white and red wines) are named after the
current acronym for this road, which has thus regained its place on the international wine map
thanks to Isabella’s success. She told me that the choice was also dictated by her wish to
communicate the idea of producing vini di territorio (terroir wines), which are anchored to that
specific corner of Sicily. She physically lives in what was a traditional palmento, the local typical
structure used in the past by the community to produce wine. As part of the tour in her estate,
Isabella invites her visitors inside her house to have a look at what remains of the communicating
open tanks made with local stone which were used to crash and ferment grapes.

Still, her international notoriety does not find an equal parallel at local level. It is easier to find her
wines in Milan, Copenhagen or New York than in the municipality where she is based in and which
is nationally renowned for the production of the local red wine Cerasuolo (the only case of Sicilian

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DOCG wine). On one hand, this somehow highlights the success these wines enjoy in
cosmopolitan, vibrant urban centres, as argued by Smith Maguire (2019). On the other, it tells the
story of a deep fracture between rural and urban areas that has been a recurrent theme in the
post-war history of the country. Looking at the wine sector in particular, the industrialisation of
agriculture and the changing rationality applied to wine production has deeply transformed the
farmers relationship with nature and the consumers perception of what wine is (Pratt 1994). I will
analyse these transformations at the production end in the following chapter, here I just want to
highlight the existing discrepancy between specific sites of production like Isabella’s, and the
surrounding local culture of consumption.

This specific disconnection with the immediate local reality is something I noticed not only there,
but also in Piedmont where I conducted the rest of my fieldwork. In the case of Livia for instance,
her wines are mostly unknown in Canelli, which is instead promoted by the local and regional
touristic offices and the UNESCO as a municipality whose history is closely connected to the wine
sector. Livia’s Moscato, which is so praised in France and in other parts of the world as the best
expression of Moscato from the area around Asti, hardly reach the palate of those who live
nearby her winery. The same is true for other informants (Margherita, Claire, Virginia), whose
wines are barely known in the area where these producers are based. The emergence and global
success of natural wines present this contradiction: they are produced according to an approach
which (reflexively) combines traditional elements and the cultural promotion of the local rural
heritage (of which terroir is the most important feature), but they belong to a niche market and a
wine culture which is based in urban centres and it is not widely spread at local level. Their
consumption indeed reflects contemporary urban desires for authentic and traditional products.
As DuPuis and Goodman (2005: 368) argue, these desires are the expression of an “unreflexive
localism”, which treats the “local” as a purified category. Here I showed how my informants
engage with their localities reflexively. As Sonnino (2007: para. 3) argues, the local “involves a
dynamic process of attribution of meanings through which social actors construct and defend the
connection between a product and a place”. The tension between upper-middle class consumers
based in thriving cities and producers located in marginal regions where the traditional wine
production is decaying or disappearing, has also been observed by Alonso Gonzales and Parga
Dans (2018) in their study on the Spanish terroirist wine movement. As I will argue in the
following chapters, this tension also concerns the radical transformation of the agricultural sector,
the changing rationality of rural life and the dominance of an interventionist oenology in the wine
sector over the last forty years, which has pervasively shaped our perspective and approach to
wine.

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4.5 Conclusion

“Natural wine, its critics notwithstanding, appears to most of us as politically progressive,


environmentally friendly, and seemingly more authentic than mass-produced, industrial brands.
Among its great advantages is its alleged proximity to terroir” (Goldberg, 2013). With these
words, Goldberg describes the allure of natural wines in a contemporary global scenario which
has seen major changes in the way wine is produced and consumed. The producers who embrace
this kind of approach to winemaking criticise the increasing industrialisation of the sector and
oppose to that a rigorous quest for terroir. This commitment to reveal the natural and cultural
endowments of the place where they grow their vines is enacted through the use of
autochthonous grape varieties, the appeal to local traditional knowledge connected to wine
production, and a self-reflexive, critical stance on the meaning of their work. In a globalised wine
world where terroir as a distinctive asset has been subject to a gradual erosion and challenged by
an enlarged notion of provenance, it seems that natural wine producers still cling on Old World
quality criteria meant to confer prestige and distinction to fine wines. Looking at my own context
of study, and in particular at those producers who are based in Piedmont where a strong French
influence has shaped the local approach to winemaking, it would be reasonable to assume that is
indeed the case. At the same time though, the global success of natural wines reveals other,
complementary aspects of these wines that hinge on new forms of prestige and legitimacy based
on a renovated desire for authenticity and local embeddedness. Within the world of wine, that
has translated into a process of democratisation both at the production and consumption end.
Authenticity and quality claims are now framed through an embracing notion of provenance that
values the biography and personality of the winemaker, her philosophy behind wine production,
the specific context of production, without relying uniquely on the auto-referential character of
terroir (Demossier, 2010). These particularities of provenance are all found in the way natural
wines are made and presented: small-scale producers, committed to a production approach that
is framed through the idea of genuineness and ‘honesty’ (Black, 2013: 288), and able to meet
contemporary public concerns about environmental problems. These producers are socially
accessible through fairs and visits to their estates, and sustained by a wide network of
professionals globally promoting and offering their wines to cosmopolitan urban consumers.
Following Smith Maguire (2019), it can be said that natural wines present material anchors to be
aligned with both the world of fine wines and a new global aesthetic regime that is based on
authenticity and a “taste for the particular”. As I started to show through the ethnographic
accounts I presented, the personal trajectories of producers embracing this approach reveal a
complex picture where this double positioning of natural wines materialise in distinction claims,
market strategies, and active participation within a vibrant global network.

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Chapter 5 Going beyond nature and culture: natural


winegrowing as a relational practice

5.1 Introduction

Among the scholars who have analysed the emergence of natural wines and its main differences
compared to conventional wines, there is common agreement that a shift of emphasis has
occurred in the way wine quality is framed. The winegrower and her skills, interpretation of her
work and even her personality have come to the fore at the expense of a more classic argument
that focuses solely on the natural, geological features of the place. In describing how the term
‘natural’ is negotiated between the actors involved in this restricted world of wine, anthropologist
Rachel Black (2013) argues that production occupies an important place in the narrative of these
wines. In particular, the discourses focus on those production methods that are able to express
the uniqueness of the place where the grapes come from. This shift can be understood as a
consequence of greater differentiation in the new globalised wine world, where locality acquires
new values not necessarily tied to a classic definition of terroir. Demossier (2013: 196-197) refers
to that while describing the Burgundian contemporary wine scenario where the so-called vins à
très forte personnalité (wines with strong personality), among which she lists natural wines, have
been promoted by a group of ecologically-minded producers. This signals a transformation in the
construction of quality and a parallel contestation of the hegemony of the AOC system. These
wines respond to ecological and environmental concerns raised by new consumers who want to
distinguish themselves from their more traditional counterpart, but at the same time are treated
with suspicion by mainstream sommeliers and experts who are sceptical about their sensorial
profile and alleged lack of terroir expression. Teil (2012) notes a similar criticism when she depicts
the contraposition between traditional producers of terroir wine and the so-called “naturalist”,
sulphite-free vintners. While both groups reject an invasive approach to winemaking which
manipulates the taste of wine and erases the mark of terroir, “naturalist” vintners are accused of
producing wines with pronounced oxidation and excessive versatility which mask the true
expression of terroir. When taken to the extremes indeed, and despite their claimed proximity to
terroir, natural wines paradoxically tend to taste the same, failing to convey to consumers the
allegedly unique taste of place (Black, 2013: 287). This risk of an emerging standardisation of taste
is acknowledged not only by the critics’ faction, but also some natural producers (like Livia’s
brother).

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According to these critiques, it seems that at the core of natural winemaking lies an implicit
tension: on one hand, these wines are presented as the true, unfiltered transposition of nature in
the glass thanks to a non-interventionist approach in the cellar; on the other, the role of the
winemaker and her choices throughout the process represent a key aspect in the way these wines
are crafted and communicated. When the natural dimension takes too much control on the
human one, the result is said to be a wine which lacks the expression of terroir. The aim of this
chapter is to investigate how this tension is negotiated by wine producers engaged in a natural
approach to viticulture and winemaking. To do so, I will start by looking at the recent definition of
terroir issued by the International Organization of Vine and Wine (OIV) in 2010 to identify what
are the natural components constituting terroir. In particular, I will focus my attention onto those
natural elements of terroir that are meaningful to my informants and inform their work both in
the vineyard and in the cellar. By doing so, I will start to show how my informants engage with
them through a relational dynamic that does not frame them as external factors, but as living
elements crucially involved in the production of their wines. I will then expand on this relational
dimension by having a closer ethnographic look at the work of my informants first in the vineyard
and then in their cellars. By the end of the chapter, it will be clear how the production of natural
wine is based upon an attentive perceptual engagement with the lively materialities of wine,
where the role of the winegrower is to preserve these living properties while at the same time
express her own individuality through her taste and choices. The last section of the chapter is
devoted to those elements of the work and lives of my informants which were more connected
with their gender and shaped their ideas and practices as natural winegrowers. I will show how
belonging (or not) to traditional farmer families affected the way they perceived their work and
identities as natural wine producers.

5.2 Dissecting terroir

In the previous chapter, I started to discuss the concept of terroir and its relevance for natural
wine producers. In this section I will approach more closely those natural components of terroir
that are meaningful to my informants.

5.2.1 Soil

According to the recent definition formulated by the International Organization of Vine and Wine,

Vitivinicultural terroir is a concept which refers to an area in which collective knowledge


of the interactions between the identifiable physical and biological environment and
applied vitivinicultural practices develops, providing distinctive characteristics for the

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products originating from this area. Terroir includes specific soil, topography, climate,
landscape characteristics and biodiversity features.

(Organisation Internationale de la Vigne et du Vin, resolution OIV-VITI 333-2010)1

As it is clear by this formulation, terroir is constituted by a combination of both natural and


human factors. While in the past the natural, geological dimension was given prominence thanks
to influential publications written by geographers and experts such as Wilson (1998), nowadays
the sociocultural side of terroir has gained increased recognition (Moran, 2001). Nevertheless, soil
is still mentioned as one of the key natural elements in the production of fine wines of terroir.
Detailed accounts of the multiple layers of soil making up a vineyard are presented by producers
and sommeliers during wine tours and tastings as fundamental coordinates to assess the quality
of a wine. When I was trained to become a wine taster myself, an entire class of my course was
devoted to the distinction between different geological soils (clay, sand, or limestone) and their
corresponding influences in the final wine.

Natural wine producers are not exceptions in this regard. During my fieldwork, I was told by my
informants how the specific features of the soil in their vineyards imparted recognisable and
unique notes and aromas to their wines. In some cases, the physical evidence of terroir was
literally consigned into my hands. While harvesting Moscato grapes with Livia and the rest of the
team in a rather hot afternoon, she stopped picking and guided me to a nearby empty plot of land
that had been recently excavated. From the ground, she collected what looked like a marine
fossil, a shell-shaped piece of crumbly soil made of compressed sand. While I was holding it, she
explained to me that all the surrounding area had originally been under the sea level and those
kinds of fossils were a proof of that. In terms of taste, Livia told me that specific soil contributed
to the ‘freshness’ and ‘salinity’ of their Moscato, which resulted in a wine exhibiting deep but also
elegant features. I will develop more in depth the sensorial aesthetics of these wines in the
following chapter, for now I want to highlight how physical terroir gets defined and interpreted by
my informants. In other instances, the link between soil and wine was not affirmed by recurring to
a geological explanation but instead was explained through less scientific means. After a long day
of harvest, Livia and I were watering the garden in front of her house. As a person who has grown
up in a city where contact with nature had been limited, I took advantage of that situation to soak
up a short practical lesson on the identification of flowers, plants and native herbs. While sniffing
the glorious scent of wild mint and lemon balm that popped up here and there in the garden and
between the rows of Livia’s vines, I dared to connect those vegetal smells to the balsamic notes I

1
https://www.oiv.int/public/medias/379/viti-2010-1-en.pdf

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found in her Moscato. Livia was not surprised by my association, instead she agreed with me and
exclaimed, chuckling: “That’s terroir, too!” She added that her US distributor had claimed the
same after a walk in her vineyard of Moscato during a visit to her winery. In this case, evidence of
physical terroir is the result of a collective perception which finds legitimation precisely because it
is shared by a group of experts (Hennion, 2007). As a general rule, and as I was told numerous
times by my interlocutors, a good soil must be “alive”. This is obtained through careful work in the
vineyard and the rejection of any chemical substances (fertilisers, synthetic products, etc.)
altering the microbiological components of the soil and its ecological relations.

This physical dimension of terroir, with its specific features, constitutes the guarantee of a
distinctive wine. Still, “having the right terroir”, as Livia’s father told me the first day I met him,
does not mean that this set of favourable features are automatically transferred in the wine
produced. Rather, terroir represents in a way the most important external limitation in the work
of these producers, as Daynes (2013) argues when describing the social understanding of terroir
among Bordeaux winemakers. The natural endowments of terroir define both possibilities and
adaptations on the part of the winemaker, who applies her intimate knowledge, sensual skills and
sensorial experience to express them. This process takes the shape of a quest that is constantly
re-enacted with every coming vintage, resulting then in a unique product which bears the
specificity of a place in time. When tasting a wine, my informants usually said that in the glass
they searched for terroir, grape variety and vintage. These elements formed the axes of their
reference system, used to navigate their evaluations and appreciation of a wine’s quality. For
natural wines, which are not subject to heavy manipulation in the cellar, the variability from
vintage to vintage is even greater and it is praised as a sign of good practices both in the vineyard
and in the cellar. This valorisation of difference and variability was actively cultivated by the same
producers as a “taste for uncertainty” (Krzywoszynska, 2015), as I will argue in the following
chapter where I will focus on the sensorial aesthetics of these wines and the judgment of their
taste.

5.2.2 Vines

Another important external element of the natural components of terroir is the vine itself. It
represents the most direct point of contact to nature, but also the repository of knowledge
matured by generations of winegrowers. The way vines are cultivated, shaped, cared and
managed is the result of constant human intervention. Throughout their annual life cycle, which
culminates in autumn with the ripening of the grapes, these plants are subject to different sets of
operations that are aimed at maintaining their health and self-sufficiency. Natural wine producers
in particular place particular importance on the work done in the vineyard. According to them, the

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necessary starting point to craft a good wine is healthy and perfectly ripened grapes, which in
turn are the result of the work done in the vineyard over the whole year. The way of saying “il
vino si fa in vigna” (“wine is made in the vineyard”), shared among my informants, captures the
special emphasis they give to viticulture, conceived as an essential agricultural practice leading to
the production of healthy grapes. As I said in the previous chapter, natural producers prefer to
work with autochthonous grape varieties, which are considered more adapted to the local soil
and climate, hence more prone to express the local terroir. Compared to the so-called
international varieties such as Chardonnay, Sauvignon and Cabernet Sauvignon, which were
implanted in many areas of the country a few decades ago to accommodate the taste of new
international consumers who were not accustomed to local indigenous varieties, nowadays the
latter are praised to be the true interpreters of the local terroir, not only by natural producers. In
parallel to a process of quality improvement investing the national wine sector at large (Overton,
Murray and Banks, 2012), this shared recognition of the value of the Italian viticultural heritage
seems to reflect that specific ‘taste for the particular’ described by Smith Maguire (2018), and at
the same time an increased awareness towards biodiversity and its protection (Mannini, 2004).

The use of autochthonous grape varieties on the part of natural wine producers goes together
with the revitalization of traditional viticultural practices which were gradually abandoned during
the industrial conversion of agriculture. Ian d’Agata, wine writer and author of the award-winning
book “Native Wine Grapes of Italy” (2014), observes that Italian native grapes bear not only
ecological significance but also cultural relevance due to the strong bond that ties indigenous
grape varieties with the people who have tended to them over the centuries. Native varieties
condense around them local knowledge, collective memories and a sense of regional identity
(which historically characterises Italy as a nation-state with a relatively recent history). The
conservation of these varieties implies then the conservation of this cultural heritage.

When Isabella decided to produce her wine in Vittoria, she chose as a training system for her
vines the traditional alberello: the plant is not supported by any wires (as it is the case with the
majority of trellis systems) and it develops as a short bush with a radial arrangement. This
technique is traditionally used in Sicily, where hot temperatures and strong winds represent a
stress for the plants. The reduced height of the vines obtained through the techniques of alberello
allows for protection against the heat, and the creation of a microclimate that is beneficial for the
plant. Isabella also told me that the resulting circular development of the vines enabled her to
look at each plant from every possible angle. For a kind of viticulture which entails an intimate
interaction between the plant and the winegrower, this aspect acquires particular importance for
winegrowers such as Isabella. She also re-introduced the practice of bud grafting in loco which
was mostly abandoned with the advent of the modern nurseries providing winegrowers with

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grafted vine shoots ready to be implanted in the vineyard.2 According to Isabella, grafting in loco
(traditionally practised by a team of skilled male pruners over the summer) leads to better results
as each rootstock can be carefully assessed before being grafted onto the bud. Also, this practice
allows the propagation of the best vine specimens in the vineyard (what is called mass selection
as I explain below). This is a time-consuming activity that requires high levels of skill and
experience. On the Facebook profile of Isabella, photos taken during this operation were
commented by people who appreciated the cultural value implied in the revitalisation of this
practice. A few users also shared memories of elder relatives who had the same skill, while others
were simply curious and wanted to know more about it.

When looking for new parcels to rent or buy, Isabella and the other informants who did not
inherit the land from the previous generation, prefer to choose vigne vecchie (old vines) due to
their historical value and quality of their grapes. In Sicily, vigne vecchie are usually found in
contrade storiche (historical districts), delimited areas which were historically recognised for the
production of distinct wines. Finding a parcel in these contrade storiche was for Isabella the best
way to reconnect to the glorious past of the area’s wine production, giving continuity to the
expression of the local terroir. Old vines were treated by my informants as a sort of historical
living shrines to which they paid reverence and particular care. Their twisted, winding trunks were
captured in photographs that were posted on their Facebook profiles, or showed to the public
attending wine fairs and tastings.

2
After the advent of phylloxera (an aphid which damages vine’s roots and ultimately causes its death) in
Europe in mid-nineteenth century, the only way to grow vines is by grafting the plant with phylloxera-
resistant American rootstocks. Bud grafting is the practice of grafting a dormant bud onto an American
rootstock, generally instead of the bud it is used a dormant scion.

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Figure 10 Old vine of Nerello Mascalese in Claire’s vineyard on Mount Etna (photo by author)

They also represent an invaluable source of biodiversity, as their genetic heritage is the result of
the mass selection that was traditionally practiced before clonal selection became the norm in
Italian viticulture in the 1970s. Mass selection is based on a careful selection of the best plants in
a vineyard aimed at reproducing a variability of genotypes that as a whole can better cope with
different climate conditions and the emergence of diseases. Compared to clonal selection,
whereby a unique genotype is selected and reproduced throughout the vineyard according to a
logic of maximum profitability, mass selection operates through the idea of spreading the risks. In
years particularly hot, the plants with a better capacity to cope with water stress will compensate
for others more vulnerable to the heat. Conversely, rainy vintages will see a better performance
from those more adapted to cope with abundant water. Practising mass selection implies that the
winegrower possesses an intimate knowledge of each single plant of her vineyard. It is the result
of a sustained interaction with the vines throughout the seasons, over the years. This relationship
with the plants sometimes acquires anthropomorphic connotations: for my informants they were

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bambine (little girls) and figlie (daughters) to take care of and nurture through a constant
distillation of attention, observation, and physical contact.3

This kind of relational approach to the plants, founded on the centrality of embedded skills
matured through practice and apprenticeship, characterised the pre-industrial, traditional
vineyards cultivated by generations of small farmers before the industrialisation of the
agricultural sector (Pratt, 1994). Anthropologist Mauro Van Aken (2014) argues that the
traditional vineyard can be analysed as a complex campo di senso (“field of meaning”) where
economic, social, moral and aesthetic values intermingled. The work conducted in the vineyard
was not exclusively finalised to the production of wine, instead it entailed the care of the whole
ecosystem through activities pointed at the reproduction of its resources, the sustainability of the
soil, and the transmission of the technical skills. When agriculture was not yet subject to a
capitalist rationality oriented towards maximising profits at the expense of a more holistic
approach to the ecosystem, the interaction with nature was founded upon a dialectical dynamic
where “the vine is an active subject in relation to the surrounding environment in which the
winegrower is included. Conversely, in the modern vineyard the vine gets objectified and reduced
to ‘stuff’ in the everyday intensive practices, where each vine is just like the others, there is no
more space or time for recognition” (Van Aken, 2014: 178). I will come back to this point later in
the chapter, for now I want to highlight how natural wine producers have consciously
reintroduced in the vineyard a more relational perspective that characterised traditional rural
communities before the modernisation of the agricultural sector.

5.2.3 Indigenous yeasts

As I said in the previous chapter, the use of indigenous yeasts to trigger alcoholic fermentation
constitutes the pillar of natural winemaking and the main difference from conventional wines.4 As
I was told numerous times by my informants, a common mistake is to equate natural wines to
sulphite-free wines. While the amounts of sulphur dioxide are considerably lower in these wines
compared to conventional ones, this simplistic definition does not reveal the real essence of their
winemaking approach. According to these producers, it is the use of indigenous yeasts (and the
rejection of any sterilising practices, such as filtration) that allow wine to retain its living attributes
and the marks of the original terroir, leading to a substance which is different from year to year
and tied to a specific place.

3
In Italian the words “vine” and “plant” are both feminine nouns.
4
Organic-labelled wines are not necessarily produced with the use of indigenous yeasts, as the current EU
legislation is not prescriptive about it.

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Indigenous yeasts are naturally found in the vineyard and in particular on the grape skins. They
are part of the wider ecosystem of the vineyard and as such they are said to bear the mark of the
local terroir. Once the harvested grapes reach the cellar to be transformed into wine, the yeasts
travel with them and start to colonise the surfaces of vats, barrels, tools and walls. Scientifically
speaking, yeasts are classified into families, or strains, which present different features and are
still object of numerous studies aimed at understanding their functioning throughout the different
phases of the fermentation process (Giudici, Solieri and De Vero, 2010). In conventional
winemaking, the idea is to select in the lab those strains that better cope with the selective
evolutive pressures induced by the fermentation environment and inoculate them into the must.
Using selected yeasts helps reduce unwanted compounds (such as volatile acidity), emphasising
varietal aromatic characteristics, and more generally it ensures a controlled and efficient
performance without major risks. For natural winemakers, that means reducing the aromatic
complexity of wine brought about by the variability and number of yeasts naturally present on the
grape skins each year. In their opinion, by inoculating just one selected strain of yeasts, wines
become organoleptically impoverished and characterised by standardised aromatic profiles and a
lack of terroir expression.

In order to stimulate the genotypic variability of indigenous yeasts, the chemical composition of
the grapes (sugars, nitrogen and mineral compounds, etc.) plays a fundamental role, and that is
determined by soil, grape variety, vintage and cultivation techniques adopted in the vineyard.
That explains why for these producers it is fundamental the work conducted in the vineyard and
harvesting perfectly healthy grapes, as indigenous yeasts live and reproduce on the skins of
undamaged clusters. As it is argued in the proceedings of a seminar on spontaneous
fermentations organised by the Italian natural wine association VinNatur in 2010, the
prerequisites to successfully conduct a fermentation without using selected yeasts is a solid
knowledge and a high level of understanding of the process on the part of the winemaker.5 If
apparently nature seems to take control in spontaneous fermentation, in fact the winemaker
directly concours through her practices to the realisation of a wine bearing the specific qualities of
terroir, grape variety and vintage. This mindful, sensitive engagement with the organic
components of wine is based on the idea that the fermenting must (and later, wine) is literally a
living substance that needs to express its natural potential but at the same time it is exposed to a
series of risks. This double aspect of liveliness and risk was well described by Costanza the very
first day I stepped into her brand-new cellar during a rather hot harvest season.

5
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As a member of VinNatur, Costanza represented well the type of winemaker who possesses a
strong knowledge of the chemical and physical elements involved in each stage of the vinification
process. A mathematician by background and with a degree in Viticulture and Oenology, she
approached natural winemaking with a strong rational attitude. Her crystal-clear explanation of
the role of the yeasts during the fermentation easily took the shape of a well-taught lecture in
oenology. After explaining to me the pros and cons of industrial selected yeasts in conventional
winemaking, such as their speed of action as starters and throughout the fermentation but also
their reduced variability and their lack of connection with a specific place, she turned to the
properties of indigenous yeasts:

First: they don't start off the following day, it depends on the vintage as it is really
variable, they can start off after three days, or five days, or even after a week. Second:
alcoholic fermentation is way longer, it means that in quick vintages it can take fifteen
days (2014 was a record vintage), last year my Cortese which is a white wine stopped
fermenting on 18th of April and my Dolcetto Riserva (a red wine) was drawn off in
December. This slowness of fermentation is undoubtedly a problem from the point of
view of the work to be done, but qualitatively it is beautiful as you have a slow
fermentation, a long skin contact, something that is actively pursued. What we don’t like
(..) is that the fermentation starts three, four, five days later. What happens is that when
tomorrow we will fill up this tank, we cannot saturate it as it produces CO2 and it would
explode, so we will fill it up to its 70% (…) if the alcoholic fermentation doesn’t start, you
have a tank not completely full (of must) but filled up with oxygen, and as a general rule,
the majority of yeasts and bacteria that are dangerous to the must, they need oxygen, in
primis acetic bacteria to make an example. So, if for five days the tank remains still, for
me it is not good (…) you put yourself at risk. (interview 04/09/17)

Engaging with this risky, living substance is at the core of the work undertaken in the cellar,
especially at the first stages of the fermentation. As I will describe in depth later, a series of
strategies are conducted by the winemaker in order to cope with the arduous task of “letting
nature express itself” without manipulating the wine with oenological procedures that can mask
the mark of terroir and deprive the organic variability of the must. Here I want to emphasise how
the choice of using indigenous yeasts is framed within a relational perspective where the organic
component of the must is treated by the wine producer as a living subject that needs to be
understood, and carefully handled as it is exposed to a range of risks that can hinder its future
development into wine. The non-interventionist approach adopted by natural winemakers entails
a conscious evaluation of the possible risks arising during the process, mainly related to the
exposition of the must to oxygen and the consequent production of unwanted chemical

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compounds. The fermentation process in natural winemaking assumes the shape of a dynamic
field where the agency of the yeasts meets with the agency of the winemaker, and both
contribute to the transformation of the must into wine. The rejection of any practice of
sterilisation represents a corollary to the use of indigenous yeasts to maintain the living
properties of the grapes, and the second main difference between this approach and
conventional winemaking. It was again Costanza who provided me with a clear explanation of the
importance of adopting a non-interventionist approach in the cellar:

In a natural wine, you basically don’t add additives, don’t do any kind of stabilisation,
and then you don’t do another important thing, you don’t do any filtration. So filtration,
like sulfiting, is a form of sterilisation. You have a filter that blocks all microbiological life,
so to conclude, a big difference between a natural wine and a wine which has been
heavily added with sulphites and filtered, is that a natural wine from a microbiological
perspective is alive, this is not rhetoric. If you don’t filter, don’t add sulphites, all the
components (that is) yeasts, bacteria and enzymes go into the bottle. (interview
04/09/17)

In this section I have shown how natural wine producers frame their relationship with the natural
elements of terroir, highlighting how a constant process of interpretation and adaptation is at the
core of their work, both in the vineyard and in the cellar. Soil, vines, and indigenous yeasts
(together with climate) represent an external physical limitation to the work of the producer and
at the same time living elements that actively interact with the practices of the wine producer.
Within this relational dynamic, nature is not an object to be acted upon, rather a subject that
needs to be understood, listened to and taken care of. For these producers, who aim at
transferring the marks of terroir into their wines, the living attributes of nature remain a constant
point of reference in the work conducted both in the vineyard and in the cellar.

5.3 Encountering agency in the vineyard

5.3.1 Pruning

As part of my ethnographic fieldwork, I attended the pruning activities which are usually
conducted in the vineyard during the winter season, at Livia and Margherita’s estates. Dry pruning
represents one of the crucial moments in the cycle of activities that absorb winegrowers’ time

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and cause fatigue throughout the year.6 In winter, vines enter into a dormant state that lasts until
the vegetative cycle of the plant starts again, with the opening of the first buds in spring. It is
during this period of the year that pruners operate a series of cuts to the vine that will determine
the future development of the plant both in terms of its vegetative growth and fruit production.
As I will show, dry pruning is in fact the operation that reveals the underlying intentionality of the
winegrower, or in other words, her ongoing “project” with respect to the maintenance of the
vineyard and the production of wine. Pruning is also an activity traditionally loaded with social
and cultural values as it is a complex and fundamental viticultural practice that takes time to
become an embedded skill, requires a specific apprenticeship and it is generally connected to a
high social status in the vineyard. In the traditional division of labour of small-scale family-run
wine estates, pruning was indeed exclusively carried out by the elder and most experienced men
who in turn would transmit their practical skills and knowledge to their sons (Guaschino, 1984;
Van Aken, 2014). Among natural wine growers, especially those who still belong to traditional
peasant families, this division of labour (and the social and cultural elements attached to it) is
somehow still present but, as I will argue, includes novel social and aesthetic configurations. By
analysing this specific working activity conducted by my informants in their vineyards, I will shed
light on the way they engage with their vines, on their conception of time applied to their plants,
as well as the artisanal and cultural values implied in this kind of production.

5.3.2 On the field

It is a cold and bright January morning, I am having breakfast with Livia in her kitchen. Yesterday, I
expressed my desire to follow the pruning activity that has been carried out in the family
vineyards. Giulio, Livia’s father, offered to personally show me the details of the work from
scratch. That came as a surprise, as Giulio is no longer in charge of this kind of work which is now
done exclusively by his son. Since this year, the latter has been helped out by Ernesto, a young
man living nearby who wants to learn how to naturally manage the vineyard. In front of our cup
of tea, Livia tells me that dry pruning is traditionally considered a masculine activity. In the past,
while men would prune the plants, women would later collect the remaining cut-off branches (the
idiomatic expression in Italian is tirare giù, literally “pull down”) and tie the new fruit-bearing
canes to the wires a month later. These two activities were deemed as feminine because they
were less tiring, compared to pruning which needed strong hands to deal with the hard vine
branches (called il secco in Italian, “the dried”). While describing these activities, Livia recites a

6
Dry pruning (potatura secca in Italian) is different from green pruning (potatura verde). While the former
is done in winter, the latter starts in spring and as the name suggests, it deals with the removal of the
excess shoots of the vine.

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local way of saying which was used, together with others, by the peasant community as a
reminder of the activities conducted in the vineyard, according to each month of the year. If the
adage prescribes to prune in March and tie in April, nowadays everything is anticipated by at least
a month due to the warmer climate. They in fact start pruning in January or February (according
to the weather conditions), as in April the new buds are already vigorous and that means the
vegetative cycle of the plant is in full swing. Pruning indeed needs to start when the plant is
dormant, in particular pruners have to wait for the leaves to fall down completely, an indication
that the plant’s sap has returned to ground to rest during the winter months. Livia describes their
approach in terms of “respect of the lifecycle of the plants”. That means they avoid any possible
distress for the plants caused by premature or belated cuts whose negative effect is visible in the
so-called weeping of the vine (pianto della vite), the leakage of lymph from the pruned branches
which resembles a teardrop. Livia opposes their modus operandi to the one adopted by their
neighbours, who start pruning right after the harvest when the leaves are still on the plants.
According to her, this decision is motivated by different yet connected reasons: on one hand, it is
a way to keep busy their employees during a period of the year where the workload is less
intensive (according to a perspective focused towards maximisation of work); on the other hand
the fact that they do not respect the natural cycle of the plant is somehow overridden as they
work with young vines only, which are exploited for fifteen-twenty years and then replaced by
new ones. Instead, her family’s management of the vineyards is focused toward the preservation
and care of the existing plants, which are considered as their family heritage.7

With this preliminary information in mind, I went with Giulio to one of their plots of Guyot-trained
Moscato vines surrounding their house to learn the practicalities of pruning. Equipped with a pair
of electric shears, Giulio started showing me the basic notions each pruner has to know before
embarking upon this complex viticultural operation. As Giulio made immediately clear, pruning is
tightly connected to the future development of the plant and, ultimately, to the production of
high-quality wine. In front of a vine ready to be pruned, a winegrower is presented with a series of
actions that impact the past, present and future growth of the plant. Practically, this translates
into three main steps: after an overall look at the single vine to assess its current development,
the pruner eliminates the fruit head which carried the grapes in the previous vintage; she chooses
which branch is going to be the fruit head of the current vintage; and she selects the spur which
will be the fruit-bearing cane of the following year. These three types of cuts on the vine have
been given names that take into account this temporal distinction: il taglio del passato (literally

7
Livia hires external workers during the harvest season only. For the rest of the year, the workforce at the
winery is constituted by her brother, her father, a Macedonian woman (who is also in charge of some
domestic work), and herself.

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“the cut of the past”), il taglio del presente (“the cut of the present”) and il taglio del futuro (“the
cut of the future”). Pruning is a complex operation that entails a multi-temporal dimension and
affects the same viability of the winery, that is the preservation of the vineyard and the
production of wine. While showing me how to proceed, Giulio described his actions in terms of
rules (“what you should do”) and prohibitions (“what you should avoid”) which, taken together,
constituted a set of moral prescriptions or what Van Aken (2014) calls a shared moral code.
According to the author, being able to prune was a working activity traditionally embedded into a
local field of meaning and as such it was tied to a series of norms which were in fact shared and
transmitted within the farmer community. For instance, this code of conduct prohibited pruning
during the new moon as it was believed that this lunar phase stimulates the circulation of the
lymph and triggers the reproduction of specific insects that attack the branches of the vines. As
Van Aken argues, and in line with what Livia told me about the different approaches to viticulture
in her locality, nowadays this common moral code has become fragmented and diversified as new
logics of production dictating the working rhythm in the vineyard have emerged. In some medium
and large wineries, pruning is anticipated to keep workers active right after the harvest season,
and moon phases do not mark any more the timeline of the activities conducted in the vineyard.
As a result, the latter no longer represents a collective and coherent field of practice and
meaning, instead it reflects the tensions and conflicts between different logics of production. I will
come back to this important point later in this chapter, once I have expanded more on the way
my informants interact with their vines, making clear the differences between this mode of
production and the one adopted by conventional wineries.

Going back to that morning in the vineyard with Giulio, I realised the complexity entailed in
pruning only when I was asked to do it myself. Before that moment, I had been visually following
the movements of Giulio around each plant, connecting them with what he was telling me in
order to gain a sense of the whole process. Only when Giulio decided to pass his secateurs on to
me to prune the next plant, I immediately embraced a new perspective of the vine. In particular,
the first thing that I realised were the intricacies of the dried branches and the difficulty in
deciphering which one of them was to cut off and which one to spare. Giulio asked me to check
out with him my guesses before proceeding, in order to be sure that I would make the right move.
While trying to apply what I had theoretically learned a few moments before, I perceived the vine
as an almost inaccessible and silent presence in front of me. I felt hesitant without any point of
reference that could help me navigate the otherness represented by the plant. To make my
estrangement greater, I realised how much each plant differed from the previous one, forcing me
to pause in front of each new vine to mentally go over the sequence of instructions given by
Giulio and subsequently formulate my assumptions out loud. Through this personal experience,

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and especially the mistakes made, I could appreciate the amount of knowledge and skill needed
to be a competent pruner. More than that, I could feel how each plant ‘imposed’ itself in a way
that forced me (and Giulio at a lesser degree) to constantly adjust my movements according to
each plant’s specificity.

5.3.3 Viticulture in historical perspective

While I was struggling to make sense of my own movements and choices, I recalled what Giulio’s
son had told me in another occasion while I was interviewing him in their cellar. Speaking about
pruning, and in particular how it was done until the 1970s before the industrialisation of the
viticultural sector, he told me that winegrowers had a personal relationship with their own vines.
Their work in the vineyards was aimed at the care and longevity of their plants. According to this
perspective, a balance between production and preservation of the plant’s health was actively
sought throughout the whole annual cycle of activities conducted in the vineyard. Experienced
pruners were particularly competent as they had a thorough, intimate knowledge of all their
vines, one by one. That was possible due to the limited extension of the vineyards owned by the
local small farmers (generally not more than three or four hectares). This exclusively individual
management of their plots guaranteed a deep familiarity with their own vines, and it was based
exclusively on hands-on experience on the field matured over time without any scientific
background of any sort. According to Giulio’s son, this kind of individual management of the
vineyard still represents a best practice precisely because the singularity of each plant needs to be
acknowledged in itself and throughout its development over the years. As he told me with regret,
this intimate and sustained relationship with the vines is something that has been gradually lost
once a new paradigm of production focused on yield-maximization emerged in the 1970s. A
consequence of this change of approach is evidenced by the current lack of skilled pruners at local
level, and the concomitant loss of the traditional knowledge and practices applied to pruning and
viticulture at large.

What Giulio’s son described about the tight relationship winegrowers had with their vines,
applied to other areas of rural Piedmont and more generally all Italian wine-growing regions. As
Guaschino (1984) argues while describing the work and lives of peasant families in the southeast
corner of Piedmont in the late 19th – early 20th century, this intense engagement with the vines
can be explained through economic and viticultural reasons. The small size of the farmers
properties was indeed connected to the necessity of cultivating specific crops, vine in particular,

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whose products were more profitable as more limited was the cultivated area.8 In turn, the
specific nature of the vine imposed hard work as well as specific and intensive care to each
individual plant throughout the whole productive cycle. In particular, grapes were a crop which
needed a great amount of manual skill, as many operations such as dry and green pruning, the
binding of shoots and harvesting could be conducted exclusively by hands and without any other
tools. As a result, winegrowers and vines were tied into a close relationship of physical proximity
shaped by the movements and practices of farmers’ expert hands. The skill and knowledge
embodied by these winegrowers were not only applied to the care of the plants, but also the
ongoing assessment of the interaction between the plants and the surrounding environment.
They indeed possessed a deep knowledge of the best climatic conditions to undertake specific
tasks in the vineyard (not only according to the season but also the moon phases), a detailed
understanding of the effects of humidity, heat and sun exposure on the plants, and a careful
appreciation of the interplay between the composition of the soil and the development of the
vines (Guaschino, 1984: 20). Being attuned to the sensitive character of the vines and their
ecological interactions was paramount to the production of wine, on which depended the whole
peasant family’s livelihood. For this reason, as Giulio’s son told me, the work in the vineyard was
conducted through a long-term perspective which aimed at the preservation and longevity of the
vines.

5.3.4 Vines as relational plants

Coming back to the present, I argue that natural winegrowers have retained many of the practices
that characterised the way small farmers approached their work in the vineyard. The manual
dimension is indeed one key aspect that differentiates natural winegrowing from its industrial
counterpart. The deployment of agricultural machinery is generally limited to tractors and
mechanical ploughs that provide necessary support for the management of the soil and the
weeds between the rows, as well as for carrying and moving weights. For those who are members
of natural wine associations, it is explicitly prohibited to use any machinery during the harvest.9
That means the relationship these winegrowers have with their plants is still shaped by a tight,
ongoing interaction. In order to understand what is at stake in this kind of approach to viticulture I

8
Guaschino (1984) also provides the reader with a historical excursus on the progressive fragmentation of
land ownership in Piedmont, the gradual emergence of the small rural property and its connection with the
hillside environment (where viticulture was the dominant farming method).
9
In their charter of quality, these associations enlist which practices are banned both in the vineyard and in
the cellar. Here the example of ViniVeri association: https://www.viniveri.net/en/soci-del-consorzio/la-
regola/.

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will adopt an analytical framework that takes into account not only human intentionality, but also
the lively materialities of grapes as a crop.

Plants exhibit physiological and behavioural characteristics that make evident the biological
distance between us and them. Compared to animals, which are more easily attributed an
independent agency and the status of autonomous individual organisms, plants seem to possess a
rather different way of affecting humans and more-than-human collective life (Brice, 2014). Their
innate predisposition to become entangled into complex ecological relations with other beings
and processes has led to consider plants as opportunistic, promiscuous as well as highly adaptive.
Recent research on the neurobiology of plants have shed light on the multiple and sophisticated
strategies they enact to enrol human and non-human elements to sustain their growth and
guarantee their reproduction (Mancuso and Viola, 2015). At the same time, plants are highly
sensitive to the external environment, and their rootedness and capacity to be affected by various
environmental others have long been explained in terms of passivity and lack of agency. A vitalist
approach to the study of crops such as grapes allows me to bypass this analytical impasse which
frames plants either as unruled and subversive, or inferior and dependent beings. Attending to
the vital materialities of plants means assigning agency to these living beings without falling into
an anthropocentric perspective (Goodman, 1999). According to this approach, plants (as any
other living beings) possess a vital spirit which is at the same time an inherent quality and an
emergent property which unfolds in a relational dynamism with the environment and the other
lively materialities (Bennett, 2010; Greenhough, 2010; Richardson-Ngwenya, 2010). If we look at
vines, they indeed exhibit a constant entanglement in multiple networks constituted by other
non-human elements such as pests, yeasts, soils, and climates (Krzywoszynska, 2016). This
relational account of plants’ agency is fundamental to understand the kind of engagements vines
have not only with non-human entities but also with winegrowers, such as my informants. For the
latter, knowing the vine and its agency is indeed paramount to the care they take for them.
During my fieldwork, I was often told by my informants that “vines cannot be left on their own”.
Their innate predisposition to become enmeshed and easily proliferate through new networks of
branches and leaves, indeed require a close, ongoing observation of the plants’ development and
a whole series of practices whose aim is to tame their thriving vigour.10 Still, that does not
translate into a total subjugation at the plant’s expense. Instead, being able to channel this vital

10
Vines’ innate capacity to cling to other plants was efficiently exploited in ancient times, when vineyards
were not already specialised and wood or metal poles were yet to be introduced into vine-training systems.
Trees were used as supports to allow vines to grow and expand. Few exemplars of these viti maritate
(“married vines”) are still found in the centre and south of Italy.

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energy into the production of the right density of leaves, number of branches and grape quantity
(and quality), while caring for the plant’s health, characterises the work of a skilled winegrower.

5.3.4.1 Affordances

This kind of mutual accomplishment between the agency of the vine and the need of the
winegrower punctuates every activity conducted in the vineyard throughout the year. During the
pruning season, this negotiation is less visible to the eyes of those who (like myself) does not
possess a deep understanding of this engagement, which in turn derives from a long-term
interaction with the plants. In front of a new vine to prune, I was not able to rely on the plant’s
affordances that could have guided my actions to the right cuts. This concept of “affordances”,
coined by the ecological psychologist Henri Gibson and adopted by various scholars interested in
human – nonhuman interactions, allows me to pinpoint the relational dimension of pruning.
Environmental geographer Jamie Lorimer (2007) defines affordances as “the inherent, ecological
characteristics of a nonhuman in relation to the phenomenological apparatus of the body (human
or nonhuman) that encounters and perceives them” (2007: 914). As such, affordance is a
relational quality that allows (or disallows) the performance of a series of actions on specific lively
materialities. In the case of pruning, it was clear to me that Giulio could easily navigate the vines’
otherness through the sensorial recognition of their affordances. The specific material vitality of
each vine indeed affected how Giulio interacted with them, allowing for certain actions to be
undertaken and others to be dismissed or adjusted according to the characteristics of the
individual plant. That was often the case when choosing the right renewal spur which would
become the future fruit-bearing cane. If the vine did not afford Giulio a potential spur located into
a favourable position on the head of the trunk (that is where the vertical trunk splits into two
horizontal wood branches), the search for a spur was directed towards shoots grown on old wood
at the base of the trunk.

5.3.4.2 Following the flow

The difference between an apprentice and a skilled pruner is based upon the intimate knowledge
of the key material properties of the vine. It means becoming attuned to the way vines develop
and are affected by other non-human elements such as the weather, soil, and diseases. In
formulating an “ecology of materials” which draws on a phenomenological understanding of the
world, Ingold (2012) describes materials as matter constantly unfolding through processes of flow
and transformation. According to the author, the skilled practitioner is the one who is able to
follow the flow of materials and bring forth their vital potentials: “In the act of production, the
artisan couples his own movements and gestures – indeed his very life – with the becoming of his
materials, joining with and following the forces and flows that bring his work to fruition” (Ingold,

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2012: 435). This is especially evident during winter pruning, when each cut is done by taking into
account the future potentialities of the plant.

Figure 11 A pruned vine (longer fruit-bearing cane on the left; short spur on the right) (photo by
author)

The skilled pruner must indeed be attuned to the unfolding vital energy of the plant, in particular
its sap, which supply nutrients to the whole structure. Knowing a vine and its past, present and
future development, means being able to trace the path of the plant’s sap flow. This is the main
tenet of the vine pruning method created by a team of two Italian viticulturists, Marco Simonit
and Pierpaolo Sirch, which have become a point of reference for numerous leading wineries
around the globe.11 Their method of pruning is now globally acclaimed, with workshops and
training courses conducted in the most famous wine-growing regions, such as Bordeaux and
Bourgogne. I will discuss more in depth how this new method has been adopted by my informants

11
https://simonitesirch.com/

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later in this chapter, here I want to emphasise how important a sensorial engagement with the
vine is for the expert pruner. The knowledge required to master the pruning technique is gained
on the field, in the very practice of working with the lively materialities of the plant. “Touch the
vine and follow the flow” is one of the mottos of Marco Simonit, the co-founder of the Italian
School of Vine Pruners, and is used as a hashtag on his Instagram profile to accompany the photos
taken in the vineyards where he and his team work together, as master pruners and consultants.12

5.3.5 Temporality and uncertainty

Attuning to the vital properties of the vine also entails a recognition of the specific temporality
embedded into the plants. When speaking about their vineyards and how they interacted with
them, my informants used to tell me that it was a matter of fact that their plants would outlive
them. As they worked mainly with old vines, which were already at least fifty or sixty years old,
they were well aware that their own human lifespan was not comparable to the one of their
plants. This recognition modulates the work of care my informants undertake on their plants,
which in turn engenders a specific temporality arising from the reiterated encounters between
the vital force of the plant and the human presence. As geographer Anna Krzywoszynska (2016:
295) states in relation to care in farming, temporality is a key element to take into account when
dealing with plants, besides relationality. The vital materialities of the vine indeed possess their
own specific temporality and so becoming attuned to plants means acknowledging this temporal
dimension. Like other plant crops, grapes still retain the ability to temporally pattern the work
conducted in the vineyard by winegrowers. The different activities, from pruning to harvesting,
that mark the annual calendar of winegrowers indeed reflect the coordination between the
plants’ agency and the viticulturists’ needs. As Richardson-Ngwenya (2012) argues in the case of
sugar-cane breeding in Barbados and Franklin (2006) with gum trees in Australia, it is important to
attend to the multiple temporalities arising from the interaction between different entities as it
allows to understand how plants’ agency affect the human counterpart. I argue that what
characterises the work of natural winegrowers is a specific attentiveness to the vine’s
materialities, to their active participation into the production of healthy grapes and ultimately
quality wines. When Livia criticised the way her neighbours managed their own vineyards without
taking into account the plants’ natural cycle, she was indirectly pointing to a temporal disjuncture
between the viticultural practices enacted by conventional winegrowers and the plants’ agency.
Anticipating the pruning season to a time when the vines are not already into a dormant state

12
https://www.instagram.com/p/B0yZZ6piPxo/?hl=it

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entails adopting a kind of temporality that is aligned with the internal demands of the winery
management and clashes with the plants’ specific tempo.

Temporality in human – nonhuman interaction is tightly connected to another important


dimension characterising agricultural work in general (and viticulture in particular): uncertainty.
For viticulturists, recognising the plants’ agency and ability to become affected by other human
and non-human entities (which in turn possess their own specific temporalities), means dealing
with uncertainty is a key dimension of their own work (Brice, 2014). Skilled viticulturists are well
aware of the constantly unfolding nature of their vines and the complex ecological relations they
create with other environmental elements such as weather, fungi, and weeds. Uncertainty,
especially about cause-effect relationships, does not come as a surprise, instead it is a
fundamental factor imbricated into the daily working experience of my informants. If we look at
pruning, the lack of determinacy about the effective consequences of the cuts practised on the
plants appears even more evident. While Giulio was showing me how to prune the knotty
branches of the vines, he was also drawing up with his hands in the air the future silhouette of the
vine in a way that could not trigger my own imagination. Indeed, this kind of imaginative “skilled
vision” (Grasseni, 2004) was embedded in the working experience of Giulio as the result of his
long-term engagement with his vines.13 Still, despite his capacity to skilfully imagine the future
development of his vines, he acknowledged the uncertainty entailed in what he was doing. His
actions on the flesh of the vine were not corresponded by an immediate reaction from the plant,
which was on the contrary lying in its winter rest. While moving his hands around the branches,
he orally described his actions to me through the use of conditionals: “this fruiting cane should be
strong enough to resist winter”, “I might find a second spur in case the one I chose will not grow
properly”. Giulio would assess the concrete result of his pruning cuttings a few months after only,
when the plants would come out of their dormant state and start their vegetative cycle again.

For this reason, a skilled pruner needs to constantly project her present actions into both the
vine’s past and future, without being totally sure of the final outcome. By touching and looking at
the twisted lines of the trunk and the scars of previous pruning cuttings on the vine head, pruners
retrace the previous history of the plant and assess its current unfolding to find clues (or
affordances) for the new cuts to do. This multi-sensorial mapping does not only take into account
the single plant, but also the existing relationships between them, and with the surrounding
environment. Vines indeed are shaped not only by human hands but also the changing conditions
of the climate and the attack of different species of fungi and bacteria that might alter their

13
Ingold defines imagination in ecological terms as “the activity of a being whose puzzle-solving is carried
on within the context of involvement in a real world of persons, objects and relations” (2000: 419).

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natural development. Each of these elements brings with it its specific degree of uncertainty.
Expert viticulturists such as Giulio balance this uncertainty by recalling past experiences which can
guide their actions, but these will not transform their work into thorough mastery. Their
knowledge of the vines is experiential and situated and, as such, grows together with them
through time (Krzywoszynska, 2016). That is why for Giulio’s son the management of the vineyard
should be assigned to the same person who has followed the evolution of the single vines from
the very beginning. As my informants would keep repeating to me, “in this kind of work, you
never stop learning”. Knowledge in viticulture is processual, open-ended and never gained once
and for all.

5.3.6 Apprenticeship in the vineyard

Having analysed through an ecological approach the elements that characterise the situated and
attentive engagement my informants have with their vines, it becomes evident that
apprenticeship represents the main path to become a skilled winegrower. If, as Ingold puts it,
“human knowledgeability is not founded in some combination of innate capacities and acquired
competence, but in skill” (2001: 135), which in turn is based on a direct perceptual involvement
with the surrounding environment, then becoming a skilled winegrower lies in a process of
situated learning. The novice gradually tries to attune with the movements and gestures of the
experts through a so-called “education of attention” (Gibson, 1979), by being instructed to see
and perceive the critical properties of the surrounding environment in meaningful ways until the
novice is able to pick them up on her own. I have stated in the previous chapter how the wineries
of my informants represent important centres of apprenticeship for new generations of natural
winemakers, creating communities of practice (Lave and Wenger, 1991) where social, aesthetic
and cultural aspects of the natural wine world are actively shared and promoted. Here, I want to
focus in particular on the process of visual apprenticeship, which is key to the practice of pruning
and allows me to explain the difference between theoretical and experiential knowledge.

The same day I was being trained by Giulio to prune their vines, Ernesto (the young man who was
undertaking his apprenticeship there) was trying to do the same in another plot. Although it was
not his very first experience in pruning, Ernesto had been instructed by Giulio a few days before
on the local way of pruning the family’s vines, in particular with regard to the taglio del presente
(the cutting on the cane which will bear fruit in the coming vintage). Giulio had showed Ernesto
that the aim was to leave a fruit-bearing cane consisting of eight buds in total. This way of pruning
is also referred to as potatura corta (short-pruning), and it was considered by Giulio (and his
predecessors) as the most effective to manage the future vegetative growth. The number of buds
left after pruning gives an indication of the desirable length of the branch, which should be long

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enough to be tied to the training wire in a second moment but at the same time not too long so
as not to let the plant proliferate with too many shoots in spring. Ernesto listened to Giulio’s
instructions and tried to put into practice what he had learnt, with the result that his scrupulous
adherence to the directions received did not obtain the desired outcome on all vines. Indeed, by
focussing his attention solely to the number of buds, he did not take into account if the pruned
cane resulted long enough to be tied to the wire; or conversely, if it was too long so as to entangle
with the next plant. As Livia told me a few days later, “he was overzealous and so he literally
counted the number of buds! You need to have an eye (avere occhio), a bit of sensitivity”
(interview, 29/01/18). Ernesto partly failed his task because he was not attuned enough to the
differing materialities of the vines. Compared to Giulio, who could count on a greater sensitivity to
the affordances offered by the plants, Ernesto proceeded mechanically treating each plant in the
same way. He still lacked the kind of flexible, situated knowledge about vines that made Giulio a
competent pruner. Indeed, the instructions given to Ernesto were interpreted by Giulio as a rule
of thumb and as such they were not meant to deliver certainty about the final result, instead they
functioned as signals that would orient him to find his way through what Ingold has defined a
“taskscape” (Ingold, 1993: 158), a field of related practices. As Ingold posits, “rules of thumb may
furnish practitioners with a way of talking about what they have done, or about what they mean
to do next, but once launched into action itself they must necessarily fall back on abilities of a
quite different kind – namely on developmentally embodied and environmentally attuned
capacities of movement and perception” (Ingold, 2000). Giulio could rely on his refined perceptual
repertoire to navigate through the taskscape of pruning within the unfolding yet structured
environment represented by the vineyard. Something that Ernesto would still need to improve in
order to gain “the kind of rhythmic adjustment of perception and action that lies at the heart of
fluent performance” (Ingold, 2001: 141).

5.3.6.1 Learning to look skilfully

This multi-sensorial, situated process of apprenticeship sometimes clashes with the type of
theoretical information received through institutionalised regimes of knowledge such as
university degrees. My Sicilian informant Isabella, who obtained her own degree in Viticulture and
Oenology before embarking upon the production of natural wines, recalled her initial
disorientation in confronting the lively materialities of her vines when she started to manage her
vineyard at the beginning of her working experience as a winegrower. Full of theoretical notions
about the physiology of the plants, their common pathologies and so on, she felt puzzled and
unable to put into practice what she had learned at university. It was fundamental for her to ask
for practical advice from local old winegrowers, who trained her to look at, and interact with the
vines in a different way. That entailed an immersive apprenticeship into the environment of the

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vineyard that allowed her to understand vines from a more situated perspective. This
apprenticeship was based on training her vision to detect those properties of the vines that were
relevant for her work, and physically engaging with them. If at the beginning, as she told me, she
was not really able to “see” what was going on in the vineyard, after a while she started to have
an eye (avere l’occhio). According to Grasseni (2007), skilled vision is “embedded in multi-sensory
practices, where look is coordinated with skilled movement, with rapidly changing points of view,
or with other senses, such as touch” (2007: 4). Viticulture (and winemaking) are indeed complex
practices that require a sophisticated orchestration of all human senses to interact with the non-
human elements living in the vineyard (and in the cellar). When I met Isabella during my
fieldwork, she was already a skilled and well-respected wine producer. During the numerous
walks through her vineyards when we had to monitor the overall conditions of her vines after the
pruning season, I observed how she was able to quickly assess the wellbeing (or possible distress)
of her plants and their environment by touching the plants’ branches and checking the volume of
the weeds planted between the rows (see picture below).14

14
It is interesting to note the same physical act of walking through the vineyard was informed by her skilled
vision. In fact, when we had to move across rows where new rooted cuttings had just been planted as
replacements, I could not easily spot them while Isabella moved fluently between them.

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Figure 12 Isabella’s vineyard in spring (photo by author)

She had developed a thorough sensory relationship with her vineyard that allowed her to
‘communicate’ with it. As Grasseni (2004b) aptly argues, skilled visions are situated, embodied,
largely tacit and socially acquired through a process of apprenticeship that enables the novice to
gradually take part into a community of practice. Being able to look in a certain way does not only
permit to successfully complete a task, but also engenders specific aesthetic and moral
sensibilities. Sharing a practice indeed means sharing a similar orientation, or worldview, which
fosters a specific aesthetic and moral order.

5.3.6.2 Changing standards of vine beauty

During my fieldwork, I could realise that the work conducted in the vineyard was described not
only in terms of care but also as an aesthetic experience. Grasseni defines the latter as “the way
an activity of perception is organised and informed to tacit but shared standards for recognising
beauty. Coming to these standards may give some insight into some important aspects of
identity-construction” (2004b: 18). The vines of my informants were objects of aesthetic

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judgements, which ranged from spontaneous appreciations to more elaborate commentaries to


photos published on their Facebook profiles. My informants praised the beauty of their fruits, the
magnificence of particularly old plants, and the vigour and colour of the foliage. In one of her
posts on Facebook, Isabella described her oldest plants of Frappato as “incredible sculptures”
which were source of personal amazement (see picture below). As we can see, in this case the
vineyard is still a field of practice that is imbued with aesthetic values (Van Aken, 2014).

Figure 13 A picture on Isabella’s FB profile where she describes her vines as “incredible
sculptures”

As a culturally situated and socially acquired ability, skilled vision does not sit in a vacuum, instead
it has its own history. This means that the standards of beauty shared by a community of practice
are not abstract ideals but do evolve over time. As Grasseni (2004a, 2004b) shows in her
ethnographic study of cow breeders in the Italian Alps, the aesthetic appreciation of a cow’s
shape has changed throughout history. In the same way, the beauty of the vines is not judged

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according to immutable criteria. This is something that I realised during the pruning season when I
moved from Livia’s place to the hills where Margherita and her family live and produce wine.
During my stay, her family was busy pruning their vines and I followed them in their activity
through the rows of their vineyards. Margherita and Livia’s fathers belong to the same generation
of winegrowers, when notions of pruning used to be taught at local technical schools but mainly
learned on the field from elderly pruners. As I observed, both pruned by practising cuts which
were flush against the trunk of the plant, with the result that vines looked quite mutilated
afterwards. They also would scratch the external layers of dried bark from the trunk with their
hands. As both of them told me in different occasions, a vine was considered beautiful when it
appeared “clean” and “neat”. During those winter days I spent with Margherita’s family, I also
came to know that she was applying a different method of pruning. Equipped with Simonit’s
“Handbook of Vine Pruning”, Margherita (and her mother) proceeded by doing cuts which were
not tangential to the body of the plant, instead they were made at a distance from the trunk.15

Figure 14 The handbook by Simonit in Margherita’s car (photo by author)

15
In the last section of this chapter, I will focus more on this tension between Margherita and her father as
it is indicative of the changing roles of female winegrowers within traditional peasant families.

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According to the pioneers of this method, it is important to keep the sap flowing from the roots
up to the branches as it provides the plant with nourishment. In order not to block its flow within
the plant, it is crucial to avoid internal areas of dried dead wood which originate from large cuts
made flush against the trunk. This revolutionary method, which was the result of close
observations and careful research into the functioning of the vine’s sap, has changed the aesthetic
appreciation of these plants. Pruning cuttings made according to this method are in fact fewer
and less invasive, satisfying vines’ inherent capacity for branching. As a result, the singular
characteristics of each vine are emphasised, and vineyards pruned in this way appear less
homogenous and ordered compared to what has been the norm so far. A geometric sense of
beauty has been replaced by an alternative aesthetics that praises diversity and heterogeneity.16

5.3.6.3 Vineyards as emotional landscapes

These aesthetic enjoyments were not limited to their vines, instead they extended to the
surrounding environment including the physical elements of the landscape such as soil, rocks,
woods, animals and even the weather, so creating a deep sense of belonging. Vineyards are
“powerful centres of human dwelling” (Skinner, 2016: 180). The intimate, bodily engagement my
informants had with the lively materialities of their vineyards engendered a deep emotional
attachment to their place and fostered a sense of belonging. According to anthropologist William
Skinner (2016), who conducted his ethnographic fieldwork among small winegrowers of McLaren
Vale (Australia), this kind of emotional depth is strongly connected to the artisanal, small-scale
dimension of his informants’ work. It is indeed through their sensuous, physical involvement with
their material world throughout all phases of production that vines and wines are imbued with
meaning and emotions. During my own fieldwork, I could observe how sentiments of joy and
pleasure accompanied the everyday lives of my informants. Often, these emotions were
connected to their being immersed into the natural environment of the vineyards. Isabella
described viticulture (and agriculture more in general) as a “joyful work”, a “passion”, which
makes her happy especially because it entails an ongoing, close interaction with nature
throughout the year. The work in the vineyard is also connotated as “relaxing”, even “meditative”
especially during the dried and green pruning, which are activities conducted in solitude, at a slow
pace and in a silent ambience. This kind of solipsistic mood is generally opposed to the hectic,
chaotic and collective atmosphere of harvesting.

16
Through the success of their method, Simonit and Sirch have also re-evaluated pruning as a craft,
restoring a sense of pride and identity in those who do this job. Here an interview to Marco Simonit:
http://simonitesirch.com/wp-content/uploads//2016/06/WFW51-Robin-Lee-Marco-Simonit.pdf

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5.4 Moving into the cellar

In this last section, I will show how those elements characterising the work of my informants in
their vineyards also accompany their practices and decisions when engaged in winemaking. The
attentiveness, care and relationality exhibited with vines and their environment also apply to the
work conducted in the cellar. By focussing on the activities performed there, I will also shed light
on the role that science and technology play in this kind of approach to winemaking. Finally,
looking at what happens in the cellar allows me to dwell on the presence of female winegrowers
within a field of production which was historically male-dominated.

5.4.1 Cellars as multi-sensorial places

It has been another full day at Isabella’s winery. My alarm woke me up at 6.30 am and after a
quick breakfast with the other trainees and guests in Isabella’s kitchen, we moved into the cellar
for the first daily round of pumping over. The intense smell of fermenting grapes invaded not only
the interior rooms of the cellar, but also the external courtyard where the red crates used to carry
the grapes from the vineyard had been left from the day before. It is the end of September, and in
this eastern corner of Sicily the harvest has nearly finished. Inside Isabella’s brand-new and
spacious cellar, half of us took our positions on top of the huge square concrete tanks that occupy
the main vinification room. Once lifted the lid of my tank, a poignant breath of red must wrapped
me with its characteristic (and now familiar) vinous smell. At the bottom of the tank, my team-
mate turned on the tank’s big tap and a roar of purple and frothy liquid poured into a plastic vat
put underneath. Kneeled over the hollow of the tank and with one edge of the pump held firmly
in my hands, I yelled at my team-mate that I was ready to receive the bubbling must through the
tube. He turned on the electric pump and as soon as the liquid reached my end, I carefully started
to pour it evenly on the cap of grape skins covering the vinous mass.17 This operation of pumping
over is conducted several times a day in the very first stage of the fermentation process. As
Isabella does not rely on the use of selected yeasts to trigger alcoholic fermentation but solely on
those naturally present on the grape skins (and the ones already inhabiting the surfaces of her
cellar), the early stages of the fermentation process are quite delicate. If the yeasts stop
converting sugar into alcohol and carbon dioxide, wine gets easily spoiled by oxidation and
bacteria. To avoid any unwanted stuck fermentation, it is fundamental to distribute the yeasts
throughout the must and properly oxygenate the grape mass through the two manual operations

17
During alcoholic fermentation, grape sugar is gradually consumed by the metabolic action of the yeasts
and as a result alcohol and carbon dioxide are produced. The latter naturally pushes the grape skins
contained in the must to the surface.

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of pumping over and punching down. The latter is generally practiced by Isabella and her
assistant; it consists of breaking the cap of grape skins through the help of a wooden paddle. As I
observed, it is a labour-intensive operation especially at the beginning when the cap is still quite
solid, dried and thick. (Fieldnote 27/09/17)

Cellars are places that starkly differ from the vineyard environment, especially during the hectic
period of harvesting when the crates full of collected grapes are carried from different plots into
the cellar, and their content is quickly moved onto the selection line before being crashed and
destemmed. I had the chance to be more involved in the daily activities of my informants
compared to the winter periods of my fieldwork, when pruning was the main task but it required
a longer apprenticeship. Instead, harvesting and post-harvest operations allowed me to fully take
part in many activities that punctuated the work of my informants in a crucial moment of the
year, when all the fatigue and care diluted throughout the previous months found their concrete
realisation. If it is true for natural winegrowers that most of their work is done in the vineyard as
the latter is conceived as the main locus where a quality wine can originate. Nevertheless, the
work in the cellar remains a key step into the production of a natural wine. It is here where a
series of decisions, intuitions and tastes lead to the final product, expressing the sensitivity and
personality of the producer. As I will argue, natural wines retain a specific connection with the
ones who craft them, not only with the physical place where they come from.

I will start by highlighting the multi-sensorial dimension of the work conducted in the cellar, as it
has been depicted in the ethnographic fieldnote at the beginning of this section. Winemaking is a
complex practice that requires all human senses at work throughout the different stages of the
process, especially during the early steps of alcoholic fermentation. This sensorial engagement
with the lively materialities of the must is fundamental to properly guide the dynamic
transformation of the grapes into wine. The relational work of care that is conducted in the
vineyard carries on in the cellar, with its characteristic amount of uncertainty and risk. During my
apprenticeship as a cellar worker, I realised how all my senses were simultaneously stimulated
during the different activities I took part in. Vision is fundamental to assess the quality of the
harvested grapes before they get crushed and destemmed, or immediately put into the
fermentation vessels.18 The fruit indeed must be healthy, rightly ripened and without any sign of
fungal attack (expect for noble rot) which can affect the microbiological component of the must.
The physical conditions of the grapes and their level of integrity are particularly relevant for

18
Some of my informants used the winemaking technique of whole-bunch fermentation to vinify part of
their harvested grapes. That entails the use of non-destemmed grape bunches which are placed into the
fermentation vat together with a portion of crashed berries.

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natural winemakers who do not rely on the addition of selected yeasts and other oenological
adjuvants during the fermentation process (such as enzymes, acids, etc.). An important role is also
played by hearing, as it enables the winegrower to assess if the fermentation, with its
characteristic bubbling, is properly activated into the tank. By paying attention to the sounds
arising from the tanks, my informants could also recognise the difference between the very first
phase of alcoholic fermentation (called tumultuous fermentation), when the metabolic action of
the yeasts is quite intense and the production of carbon dioxide makes the grape must “boil”, and
the later stage which is calmer (slow fermentation). Not only wine is the object of constant
listening, as cellar workers need to listen to each other to perform tasks that require a careful
coordination between individuals occupying different positions, where visual clues are not always
available (as in the case describe above). More generally, during this time of the year cellars are
noisy places where a multitude of different sounds, both human and non-human, intermingle and
overlap. Conversely, I could appreciate the silent, peaceful atmosphere of my informants’ cellars
during winter, when they become an intimate space where wines are tasted mostly in solitude.

Manual skill is a distinctive feature of this approach to winegrowing; the tactile dimension is ever-
present and engenders emotional responses (Skinner, 2016). It permeates all activities
undertaken in the cellar, starting from the manual selection of the bunches once they arrive at
the entrance of the cellar, up to the manual operations of pumping over and punching down.19
The heat generated as a result of alcoholic fermentation is constantly monitored by touching the
tanks, as it gives an indication of the intensity of fermentation. Often, assessing if the heat is
evenly distributed throughout the whole grape mass is done directly by hands, without any tools.
Bent over their vats or barrels, my informants would sink their bare arms and hands deep into the
living substance of the must to regularly break the cap of skins and oxygenate the must. As they
told me, it was important for them to have a physical contact with the lively materialities of the
must, to “feel” the heat and texture of it. While pumping over and punching down the cap of
Grignolino skins in her cellar (as shown in the picture below), Virginia described her actions on the
must as a physical encounter with another subject, which triggered an emotional reaction on her
part: she told me to feel “the pleasure of putting my own hands and arms into it, doing the
pumping over, having my arms purple until mid-October and beyond”.20

19
The coordination needed between hands and eyes to spot spoiled berries and quickly remove them while
they grapes were moving onto the selection line was initially a difficult task for me to perform. My
informants’ skilled vision allowed them to be quick and systematic in these actions.
20
During my apprenticeship as a cellar worker, I could observe how the purple-stained hands of my
informants (and mine) became an identity marker, and a source of pride at the same time. Coloured hands
were indeed seen as the tangible sign of the hard work done in the cellar.

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Figure 15 Virginia pumping Grignolino must over the skin cap (photo by author)

Finally, smell and taste obviously represent crucial senses for those who produce wine. During my
fieldwork, I was repeatedly amazed by my informants’ acute capacity of recognising specific
smells and aromas not only in a glass of wine but also while doing other sensorial activities (like
cooking, eating, walking in the nature). In the cellar, a natural winemaker is exposed to a range of
risks deriving from not using selected yeasts to trigger the fermentation and other chemical
substances that could adjust the original microbiological composition of the must. Unwanted
chemical compounds (like ethyl acetate) and microbial organisms (like brettanomyces yeasts)
need to be promptly detected in order not to spoil the must. To do so, it is fundamental to have a
sensitive nose that can identify potentially undesirable odours at an early stage. Even though
laboratory analyses can trace the presence of spoilage bacteria and other chemical compounds,
my informants used to rely on their olfactory sensations.

The same holds for taste, which allows them to choose how to craft their wines and at the same
time detect any major flaws during fermentation and maturation. Each winegrower cultivated
their own individual taste, which was reflected in the wines they made and appreciated (in this
case, not only theirs). My informants exhibited a high level of confidence in their own taste,
sometimes framing this trust in terms of “instinct”. When having to choose the right time to
harvest their grapes, my informants indeed relied on their own subjective sensorial evaluations.
That was the case for Claire, a winegrower producing natural wines in the northern side of Etna

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volcano (Sicily). In her vineyard of almost centenary plants of Nerello Mascalese21, she showed me
how she assessed the level of ripeness of the grapes, which she did not want it to be excessive as
she preferred to retain some of their acidity. She firstly checked the colour of the bunches, paying
attention if all the berries had turned to their characteristic dark blue. She also checked if the
colour of the stalk had become brown or was still green. Then she picked up some berries,
squeezed them between her fingers to evaluate the firmness of their skin. Finally, she crunched
one berry to taste its levels of sugar, acidity and the texture of its grape seeds.22 She told me that
they sometimes would send samples of their berries to the lab just to test the sugar levels, but for
the rest (acidity, pH, and tannins) she and her partner were “relaxed” (sic) and relied on their own
subjective judgments. During her daily walk-arounds in her vineyards right before harvest, Claire
could easily identify through her multiple tastings those small variations in the flavour
composition of her grapes occurring day by day.

5.4.2 Winemaking as a flexible and intuitive practice

Claire’s case gives me the chance to introduce another fundamental aspect in the approach to
winemaking of my informants. During one of the days in which we were harvesting her vines of
Nerello Mascalese grown on an old layer of red volcanic stone, she explained to me how her
process of crafting wine was always flexible, open-ended and highly dependent on the vintage:

Every year it is an experience, every year you learn more things and you have to think
more, for me that is the fundamental thing. It is easier, when you realise there is
something wrong in the vineyard or the cellar, (knowing that) there is always a product
that can help solve the problem, but when you work like us, we don’t add anything, just
the grapes, we have to do more stuff, we have to think more about the soil, how we
might change the vinification, like less time on the skins, or more air, or.. So this is an
experience that you do with the vine, in my opinion. (video recording 30/09/17)

Natural winemaking is a practice that requires flexibility and acceptance of uncertainty as it is


dependent on what happens in the vineyard and is not supported by an interventionist oenology.
As I will explain later, that does not mean that my informants were not knowledgeable
oenologists themselves or did not employ any scientific instruments in their work. Yet, they
rejected any application of that oenological knowledge that conceives wine as an object to be

21
Nerello Mascalese is an autochthonous red grape variety typically found in the southern Italian regions of
Calabria and Sicily.
22
Grape seeds contribute to the feeling of astringency found in a wine as they contain tannins. As their
colour turns from green to brown, the corresponding level of astringency gradually diminishes.

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controlled and shaped according to certain sensorial standards. The deep perceptual engagement
my informants had with their vines in the vineyard, and their wine in the cellar, was based upon a
sense of relationality which framed wine as a living entity to interact with. According to this
perspective, control over the materiality of the world of action is not an aim, instead it is replaced
by flexible adaptation while intuition, improvisation and experimentation are praised as necessary
and fundamental skills.

Especially during the hectic period of harvesting and early fermentation, when differing human
and non-human agencies (grapes, yeasts, weather) are at work in a rather condensed span of
time, it is key to be flexible to embrace this multiplicity of various elements and their different
temporalities (Brice, 2014). The tensions generated by these conflicting enactments of time did
not rule out a great amount of stress, which in fact characterised this period of the year.
Uncertainty was acknowledged as an essential and unavoidable aspect of their work and was
tackled by flexible adaptation. Being attuned to the living materialities of wine also means to be
sensitive to its needs and react accordingly. In this ongoing work of care, constant attention is
paid to the dynamic unfolding of the must first, and wine afterwards. When a problem arises,
solutions need to be found promptly and by respecting the living material properties of wine.
During an extremely hot harvesting season, one of my informants decided to cool down the
fermenting must which was excessively warm by pouring cold water on the stainless-steel vats for
a few hours per day.23 During another particularly hot vintage, another informant was forced to
destem her grapes before vinifying them (generally she used to do a whole-bunch fermentation)
as the harvested bunches were meagre due to the water stress that had affected her plants. Not
destemming would have led to the risk of developing too much astringency as the ratio between
fruit and green components (stalk and seeds) was not balanced.

Decisions on how to vinify the grapes according to their levels of sugar and acidity (and their
overall quality) were not unidirectional, nor did they result from the mindless application of an
abstract rule. Instead, they were contingent, situated and based on intuition. As Ingold argues,
the latter “rests in perceptual skills that emerge, for each and every being, through a process of
development in a historically specific environment” (2011: 25). As such intuition is at the
foundation of “technique”, intended by Ingold as the skilled making of the craftsman who
becomes knowledgeable through a direct contact with materials. My informants’ sensorial
knowledge developed with wine over time, and in the process of decision-making they relied on
their past experiences to choose how to proceed in each vintage. As West (2013b) states in

23
Many natural winegrowers do not systematically control the temperature of their tanks through
automated systems as they believe it is an artificial means to adjust wine.

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relation to artisanal cheesemaking, “the knowledge of cheese making resides in the interactive
interstices between cheese makers and their broader ecologies – in terroirs comprising them and
other components of an assemblage, including soil, rain, grass, animals, milk, vats, […] These
components may not themselves think […] but the cheese maker must think with them (2013:
335, italics in the original).

5.4.3 The role of experimentation in natural winemaking

The artisanal value of this approach to winemaking does not rely only on this attentive
engagement with wine and its components, but also on a sense of experimentation which was
actively cultivated by my informants. By looking at this aspect, I will focus more on the human
dimension of natural winemaking, highlighting the role of human intentionality in crafting these
wines. “Experimenting” was exactly the expression Margherita used to describe her personal
approach to the production of her wines, especially at the beginning of her experience as
winemaker. Born to a family of traditional small winegrowers, she did not have a scientific
background in oenology but the desire to live on the hills where she had grown up and her
passion for wine led her to join her family’s business when she was in her twenties. Although her
family had been producing wine without the use of oenological substances in the cellar, they used
to add sulphites during the fermentation process. When Margherita started to take control of the
cellar gradually displacing her father from this role, she immediately decided to vinify part of their
grapes without the use of sulphites. While recalling the reasons which led her to this type of
vinification, she said it was the friendly relationship she had with other Italian natural
winegrowers which influenced her choice. She was indeed very fond of the wines produced by
these winegrowers who worked with very old plants, without using sulphites in the cellar. Her
appreciation for the taste of these wines was then a major factor in her work as a winemaker.

According to Margherita, the conditio sine qua non to experiment without sulphites lies in a
careful work conducted in the vineyard which allows the winegrower to obtain good quality
grapes. This includes a soil with a good level microbiological life (“alive” in Margherita’s words)
and plants with well-developed roots. If these elements are not present, the work in the cellar
becomes “complicated” and the wine produced “immediately falls down”. Being experimental in
the cellar was then tightly connected to the living qualities of the grapes, and the level of
experimentation varied according to each grape variety and vintage: “hot vintages probably need
more sulphur dioxide as wines are too basic and tend to die more easily…Barbera is a variety that
can be done even without sulphites, it has a very low pH and it is more complete, Ruché instead is
so basic.. it is the variety that I have understood less as it is a semi-aromatic (variety), it is easier
with Barbera and Grignolino” (interview 25/01/17). Experimentation passed through the

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knowledge that Margherita variously possessed of the characteristics of each variety cultivated in
her vineyard. Experimenting for Margherita was associated to having fun, expressing herself and
her creativity while at the same time being exposed to the risk of spoiling the wine. Something
that had recently happened to her, as she had lost an entire tank of Ruché (which had been
vinified without sulphites) because it had turned to vinegar. While recalling that disgraceful event,
she mentioned what a renowned natural winegrower from Jura once said: that skilled
winemakers once in their life make a mistake and turn their wine into vinegar. The experimental
approach in natural winemaking then takes into account radical failures, which are registered and
remembered becoming part of winegrowers’ experiential knowledge.

My informants’ experimentation often stood in a dialectical tension with the expression of terroir,
as I introduced at the beginning of this chapter. In Margherita’s case, radical experimentation
characterised her earlier work as a natural winemaker, and she associated that with her young
age. At the beginning she wanted to produce wines that could reflect more her hand, at the
expenses of terroir (territorio) and vintage. That translated into the deliberate choice of not
adding sulphites, while adopting oenological practices that led to the production of more
structured and concentrated wines. By the time I met her, she told me she had changed her
approach. If in the past she tended to have an a priori idea of her wine without taking into
account what she would actually get from the vineyard in a specific vintage, now she preferred to

comply a bit more with the grapes that arrive in the cellar, from certain grapes you
definitely cannot obtain a wine different from what you have harvested, instead in the
past I had quite a different idea […] It’s useless to insist. Then about the territorio itself, I
hope that by working in this way it will come out, if you don’t sterilise, the territorio
should always come out. Well, if you take it to extremes and pick up over-ripened
grapes or a bit crunchier grapes way before their maturation or you do post-
fermentation macerations with pomace,24 then you will lose the territorio for sure.
(interview 25/01/17)

5.4.4 Not a style but an individual taste

At the same time though, Margherita and my other informants were well aware of the inherent
risk of an emerging standardisation of smells and taste in natural winemaking due to the practices
adopted in the cellar. High levels of volatile acidity, oxidations and predominance of funky,

24
Pomace are the solid components of grapes (skins, stems and seeds) which remain after the wine has
been drained from the fermentation tank.

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barnyard notes are indeed said to characterise many natural wines, with the paradoxical result
that it is not possible to recognise any more the original grape variety (Black, 2013; Teil, 2012).
According to my informants, an extreme approach in the cellar tended to obliterate the natural
marks of terroir and vintage. To give me a practical example of what they meant by that, both
Margherita and Livia referred to the current diffusion of so-called “glou-glou” wines which were
becoming a craze among young natural winegrowers, especially in southern France.25 The
production of these wines entails bottling the juice obtained by crashed grapes before the
fermentation process has finished, resulting in a light-bodied, fresh and easy-drinking fizzy wine.
While these wines are enjoying quite a commercial success among natural wine lovers and in the
trendy Parisian bars à vins, producers such as Livia and Margherita criticised their uniformity in
terms of taste. 26 Based on a simple and reproducible method, these wines did not retain any
connection with the place where they came from, becoming paradoxically similar to the much-
reproached conventional wines. For my informants, the real difference between this approach
and theirs lies in the artisanal value of their own work, which is at the same time individual, social
and cultural. As Livia told me,

for me the vigneron’s work has the priority. It is the main thing (…) Agriculture is first of
all a social act of resistance, what we do is not to comply with the standards of a more
conventional, exploitative agriculture, and (instead) comply with nature, respect it, be in
harmony with it, so all this work that you do in the vineyard you have to find it in the
bottle. So, you can do that by producing a wine that in turn speaks of you, your work
and your land. (interview 25/01/17)

According to Livia, the individuality of each winegrower was a fundamental aspect as it


significantly contributed to the uniqueness of the wine produced. Each individual winegrower
brings into her work not only her sensitivity, but also her culture, local traditions and savoir faire.
For Livia this was something impossible to gain overnight, instead it was founded on the intimate
knowledge each natural winegrower had of their own work in terms of its interaction with the
living materialities of a specific territorio. Crafting natural wine is an individual activity rooted into
a specific place and loaded with social and cultural values, and as such it is unique and not
replicable. For my informants, there was not such a thing as a “natural style”, or a “natural taste”

25
In France these wines are called Pét-Nat, which stands for Pétillant Naturel (“naturally sparkling”). They
are generally produced without sulphites and through carbonic fermentation.
26
In her article Teil (2012) draws a difference between “naturalist” winegrowers who do not use sulphites
and traditional winegrowers who produce wines of terroir with lower amounts of sulphites which are
supposed to express the local typicity (and whose protection under existing systems of denomination has
become problematic in France). My understanding is that my informants are aligned with this second
group.

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which instead seemed to define the current hype for glou-glou wines. Debating about this issue,
Isabella used these words during an interview she made for a podcast on natural wine:

The natural method can be re-produced (…) what cannot be re-produced is the
winegrower, the place, the sensations she has, her life choices, the craftsman cannot be
reproduced (…) the person cannot be replaced, is unique, this is the main difference
compared to a conventional wine.

These natural wine producers placed the value of their work into the craft dimension and I argue
that is what allowed them not to feel alienated by their own labour (Ulin, 2002), while at the
same time a sense of identity emerged precisely from their attentive work in the vineyard and in
the cellar (Grasseni, 2004). As a result, the wines they produce embody not only their labour but
also their social and cultural values. I will develop this theme more in depth in the last chapter,
when I will look at natural wine as a product of sensuous consumption bearing specific
characteristics. Here I wanted to focus on the role of craftsmanship in this kind of production and
the meanings attached to it. Highlighting this artisanal dimension also enables me to justify the
theoretical framework I adopted to analyse the work of my informants. The ecological approach I
used to make sense of the human – nonhuman relationships characterising natural winegrowing
has been criticised for reducing the scope of human intentionality and labour, not taking into
account material results and the structuring effect of political economy (McCall Howard, 2018).
The author focuses in particular on Ingold’s work and argues that his treatment of the human
engagement with materials is limiting as it does not allow to shed light on the alienating effects of
capitalist value relations, the market pressures dominating the experience of work for most
people, as well as capitalism’s disastrous effects on our environment. I argue that in the context
of my study, alienation did not mark the work of my informants precisely because as small-scale
artisan producers, they controlled each stage of the production process. Also, as producers of
wines considered sustainable and ‘natural’, they were placed in a favourable position within the
global political economic order.27

5.4.5 Science and technology in the cellar

As I mentioned earlier, the work of my informants rejected any application of oenological science
that frames wine as an object to be made according to specific aesthetic standards and eventually
adjusted through the use of chemical additives (Pineau, 2019). Conventional winemaking is

27
I will develop in the next chapter the kinds of market pressures my informants faced as producers of
wines characterised by an alternative sensorial aesthetics.

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harshly criticised by my informants because the unpredictable living elements of wine are not
actively embraced, instead represent a possible threat to the realisation of an a priori idea of
wine. Despite this convinced position against the underlying assumptions of oenology as an
interventionist science and its corresponding appeal to chemical substances (both in the vineyard
and in the cellar), it would be erroneous to argue that my informants rejected science and
technology altogether. First of all, my informants had a university degree in Viticulture and
Oenology (Isabella, Costanza, Claire) or had attended seminars, workshops and professional
courses on the various technical aspects of their work in the vineyard and in the cellar (Virginia,
Margherita). Some of the associations of which they were members periodically promoted in-
depth seminars and classes on specific themes (for example, the role of indigenous yeasts in
alcoholic fermentation). Margherita, who did not possess a solid scientific background, lamented
the lack of it in her work as she believed it was a valuable means to “do interesting things” both in
terms of agricultural choices in the vineyard and during winemaking. Costanza, who graduated in
Viticulture and Oenology before becoming a winegrower, told me that her scientific background
was a preliminary necessary step in her work. Knowing the chemical and microbiological wine
components enabled her to vinify by using solely indigenous yeasts. Scientific knowledge was
framed as a precious means to engage more consciously with the lively properties of wine. For
Isabella, studying viticulture and oenology made her understand what not to do once she would
become a winegrower herself. The applied side of oenological knowledge was then mainly
rejected.

Technology in the cellar was reduced to the use of various tanks, vessels and barrels, which in
many cases were not equipped with temperature controlling systems (as I said earlier, for many
producers controlling the temperature was seen as an invasive practice); electric pumps and
winepresses, crusher-destemmers, as well as bottling lines were also present; instruments to test
the levels of sugar and acidity of the grapes, and implements such paddles and rakes were all
deployed throughout the various stages. Still, retaining a manual interaction with the living
properties of wine was considered a fundamental aspect of their work, and the main difference
compared to conventional winemaking. Indeed, the latter was defined as a practice which was
heavily dependent on invasive technological processes (like reverse osmosis, tangential filtration,
etc.) that deprive wine from its living components and strongly reduce a direct sensorial
engagement which is key for natural winemakers.

5.5 Female winegrowers as new social actors in the field

So far, I have analysed the work of my informants without focussing in particular on the gender
dimension. In this section I will tease out those elements of their work and lives which were more

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connected with their being female and shaped their ideas and practices as natural winegrowers.
As I explained in the Methodology, my winegrower informants belonged to different backgrounds
as some of them were newcomers to the wine sector (Costanza, Claire, Virginia and Isabella) while
others represented the last generation of small farmer families (Livia and Margherita). With
respect to the themes that have emerged in this chapter, I argue that this different positioning
affected the way they approached their work in terms of choices, social expectations and
individual desires. During my fieldwork, I noticed the gender dimension acquired different
connotations depending on the social context in which my informants were imbricated. I realised
that some differences persisted between those informants who belonged to traditional rural
families and those who instead did not have any previous connection with the wine sector.

5.5.1 Livia and Margherita case studies

Both Livia and Margherita were born to families of small farmers dedicated to winegrowing for
generations. Their fathers belonged to that transitional generation that saw the first systematic
applications of pesticides and fertilisers to vines and the introduction of tractors and other
mechanical machines into the vineyard. Still, their fathers consciously decided to maintain a more
natural approach to the management of the vineyard compared to the majority of their farmer
neighbours who were attracted by the modernist promises of higher yields through the use of
chemical additives.28 In both families, the eldest man was recognised as the paterfamilias and as
such was respected as the head of the family enterprise. In Livia’s case, it was no coincidence that
her older brother had enrolled into a school of oenology so as to acquire the technical skills
needed to conduct the family enterprise. It was indeed her brother the one in charge of the work
in the cellar and the main manager of the vineyard (as Giulio was now too old to work
consistently with him in the field). As a woman, Livia had the chance to choose what to study at
university as working in the family winery was not imposed as an obligation to fulfil (and that was
the same for her two sisters who left the household and moved to nearby cities). Once she
decided to return to her family place of her own accord, she was a married woman with a
university degree in Political Science and some working experience in international diplomacy.
She carved out her own space in the family business by managing the sales and promoting their
wines abroad (especially in France) while actively participating in the choices made by her brother
at the cellar stage. Now Livia was an integral part of the family enterprise, but that also involved
becoming embedded into the family-based logic which assigned her a specific gender role into the

28
Margherita’s father applied some herbicides to their vineyards for few years around the 1970s, but the
negative impact it had on soil led him to abandon their use.

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family. Indeed, especially after her mother passed away, she was also in charge of the domestic
work of care for the whole family (cooking, shopping, looking after her children, etc.). Livia was
aware of this double role within her family, which was source of internal tensions and sometimes
open conflict with her father. For example, the fact that she had to leave for her annual sales trips
abroad (something she particularly enjoyed due to her innate passion for travelling) was usually
accompanied by some friction between her and the rest of the family. For Livia, being mobile and
away from home had to be continuously negotiated.

Margherita’s case was similar, as she did not enrol immediately into the family enterprise and
decided to do so in her mid-twenties. After some years dedicated to the marketing and promotion
of the family wines, Margherita decided to move her first steps into the cellar. It was here that
she had to negotiate her presence with her father, who was at that time the only person in
control of each stage of the vinification process. Margherita described her initiation into the cellar
in these (gendered) terms:

Fifteen years ago when I started to work with my parents, my father got sick he had a
heart-attack, and for me it was because I started to work with him, as my father has
always taken his work as something really personal, like HIS work, I don’t know maybe
who works at small-scale but also larger businesses, anyway anyone who is so
committed to their own work, put much of themselves in what they do, without the
vineyard my father is literally a dead man, every day he has to go there one or two
hours, also to get a break from the female world that surrounds him here (…) it was not
easy to introduce a daughter who could not basically do nothing, as I hadn’t done
anything before, so for me that was unsettling for him.. it was instead positive for my
mum in many ways, as my mum used to be like his “shoulder”, it was always my father
who would prune, or for other decisions in the cellar it was more my mum who would
help my father, instead at that stage when I could do nothing anyway, my mum took
charge of the situation and there she realised what she was able to do. (interview
26/01/17)

Recalling her gradual transition into the space of the cellar, Margherita said it was difficult to be
accepted by her father as he was reluctant to teach her the skills needed to make wine, while her
mother was more supportive.29 Her choice of not using sulphites was not accepted at the
beginning (despite her father would add just small amounts before the fermentation), so for a

29
Traditionally, decision-making in the cellar was considered a male activity and even later, when oenology
started to be taught in technical schools and universities the vast majority of students were men.

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while she had to trick him and lied about her experimentations. The rigid attitude of her father
also applied in the vineyard as I showed above about pruning. Margherita and her mother were
open to learning Simonit and Sirch’s new pruning method whereas her father was rather sceptical
about it.30 When I met Margherita, her winery was already an established name in the Italian
natural wine panorama, and her wines exported to Japan and the US (as I will describe in the next
chapter). Still, she told me that her relationship with her father was still characterised by some
tensions and a lack of recognition of her work on his part. While now they worked all together
both in the vineyard and in the cellar, specific tasks were still gender-related. The tractor and
other rural machineries were exclusively used by Margherita’s father, while manual labelling was
considered by him a feminine activity (a belief which Margherita explicitly defined as a “sexist”
judgement).31

5.5.2 New alternative gender roles

The ethnographic case-studies of my other winegrower informants told instead a different story
in terms of gender roles, and I argue that it was due to their different social and material
positioning within the sector. In particular I highlight three main elements that contributed to the
different shaping of their work experience as natural winegrowers: land ownership, technical
background or professionalisation, and being newcomers.

Isabella, Virginia, Costanza and Claire were all the owners of their own estates. Three of them
shared their land property with their own partners (Costanza, Virginia and Claire), whereas
Isabella was the only legal owner and had been partly funded by a European Union agricultural
scheme addressed to young farmers. That meant they all were disengaged by the family-based
logic operating within traditional farmer families which would assign specific gender roles to the
work conducted in the vineyard and in the cellar. By the time they decided to invest their own
capital to produce natural wines, they had worked in different sectors where their being female
was not negatively connotated. That was the case for Virginia and Costanza, who grew up in
urban contexts (Milan and Rome respectively) and worked in the cultural and financial sector.
Moreover, both of them received a politically progressive family education that actively
supported female empowerment. Claire had previously worked into the conventional wine sector
and as a globe-trotter professional oenologist she confronted with various working environments
where her gender identity had not been an issue. Finally, Isabella was my youngest informant and

30
Costanza used this pruning method for her vines. All my informants were in charge of pruning, except for
Livia.
31
Also in Livia’s case, her father was the only one entitled to drive the tractor.

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her work as a natural winegrower was her first professional experience after her university degree
in Viticulture and Oenology. In their estates, they had a managerial role in each stage of
production. They indeed controlled and were actively engaged in the activities conducted in the
vineyard, as well as the procedures in the cellar up to bottling and shipping their wines. Besides
themselves (and in some cases their partners), they could count on few full-time male
wageworkers who helped them throughout the year and hired extra seasonal workers for the
harvesting period. All of them (except Virginia who relied on an external consultant for the work
in the vineyard) had a relevant university degree that allowed them to have the technical
expertise needed to operate in the two main areas (viticulture and winemaking) without resorting
to external professionals. As such, a gendered division of labour did not characterise their working
experience as they performed all the roles that were traditionally assigned to men only, such as
pruning and all the stages of vinification. In Isabella’s case, even driving tractors and other
machineries was not a male prerogative as she was able to conduct all the operations requiring
their use.

As the patriarchal family did not represent for them the main point of reference of their working
identities, they had more agency in expressing themselves and their personality through their
work. These “detraditional” identities (Bryant, 1999; Brandth, 2002) reflected a new construction
of masculinity and femininity away from the traditional family farm structure. Instead of being
identified as ‘farmer’s wives’, these informants embodied alternative femininities as they
challenged traditional gender roles and embraced skills associated to men such as farm
management and commercialisation (Annes, Wright and Larkins, 2021). In line with that, when I
asked direct questions related to their gender identities, all tended to avoid any explicit reference
to being female as affecting in any way their work, both in positive and negative terms.32

5.6 Conclusions

In this chapter, I ethnographically analysed the work conducted by my informants both in the
vineyard and in the cellar in order to understand what is at stake in this approach to wine
production, and how the latter differs from its conventional counterpart. To do so, I first
introduced the natural components of terroir which are meaningful for my informants, and which
inform their ideas about what natural wine is. I showed how soil, vines and indigenous yeasts are
indeed key elements in the production of a wine that can be said to reflect its terroir of origin. By
doing that, it started to emerge that the natural features of terroir are not only limiting external

32
Evidence of this shared approach is the fact that to date there are no any association of natural
winegrowers exclusively dedicated to the female representatives of the sector.

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factors but also (and more importantly) lively agents that actively concur to the production of a
wine that is said to be “alive”. The recognition of this relational activity entails an attentive and
ongoing work of care that starts in the vineyard and carries on in the cellar. This kind of
perceptual engagement with the living materialities of terroir takes on social, cultural, moral and
aesthetics contours that also characterised the traditional vineyard as a complex field of practices
and meanings (Van Aken, 2014). As I argued, the skilled work conducted by my informants is
based on a sense of relationality that was at the centre of the practices enacted by traditional
small farmers before the industrialisation and mechanisation of the agricultural sector. Being a
skilled winegrower implied participating in a community of practice which shared a common
worldview, aesthetic values, and engendered a sense of identity. While the contemporary wine-
growing landscape appears more fragmented and the object of contrasting logics of production,
natural winegrowers have maintained many aspects that characterised the work of these
traditional small winegrowers, in particular the manual dimension. Yet, that does not translate
into a mindless revival of traditional practices and ideas, instead I showed how the work of my
informants is the result of a selective, self-reflexive and science-informed approach. Evidence of
that is found in the way they have consciously adopted new pruning techniques, possess a
thorough understanding of the fermentation process and place value on their own individual
taste. I argued that it is exactly in this emphasis on their own individuality as artisans that lies the
main distinction between a natural and a conventional wine. In this chapter I also analysed how
different gender roles shaped the working experience of my female informants, highlighting the
tensions perceived by those who belonged to traditional farmers families. Conversely, those who
were newcomers to the natural wine sector enacted alternative farmer identities which seemed
to challenge the traditional farming family’s division of labour.

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Chapter 6 The alternative values and sensorial aesthetics


of natural wines

6.1 Introduction

After having analysed the work conducted by my informants both in the vineyard and in the cellar
and highlighted their deep perceptual engagement with the living materialities of wine, I now turn
my focus on the products of their craft. Natural wines present peculiar characteristics tightly
connected to the way they are produced, which differentiate them from their conventional
counterpart. As artisanal products crafted through a relational and reflexive approach involving a
multiplicity of living agents, natural wines are said to maintain a specific liveliness. As products of
terroir which nonetheless bear the prints of the winegrowers crafting them, natural wines are also
said to reflect both the natural features of their place of origin and the human interpretation
given to those by the single producer. In this chapter, I will look at the ways in which these natural
and human qualities are valued, assessed and negotiated by producers and professionals involved
in their trade and promotion. In the first section of the chapter, I will ethnographically analyse the
relationship existing between these wines and their producers, showing how the former come to
represent a (liquid) extension of the latter. Natural wines indeed seem to share the human
attributes of those who crafted them, reflecting the various stages of their development as
winegrowers and individuals. Imbued with social and cultural meanings, these wines offer a
faithful image of the ethos, sentiments and values embraced by their creators which remain
impressed on them even when they leave the producer’s cellar and enter the market. For these
reasons and drawing on Paxson’s (2012) ethnographic work on artisanal cheesemaking in the US, I
argue that natural wines are “unfinished commodities”, that is products whose values are not
definitely sanctioned instead remain unstable and connected to the conditions of their own
production and consumption. I will expand on this point by looking at the various ways in which
their “unfinished” status is tightly associated to their crafting process and in particular to the
notion of taste. The latter indeed represents the main point of departure to differentiate natural
wines from more conventional wines as well as the main terrain where an alternative normative
framework is constructed and shared. I will argue that natural winegrowers play the role of
tastemakers and as such they are at the forefront in the promotion and communication of what
counts as “good taste”. In the second section of the chapter, I will focus my attention on the
contesting and contested sensorial aesthetics of natural wines and how values such as
inconsistency and uncertainty are positively assessed and actively cultivated by my informants. By

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comparing the conventional wine-tasting technique (and its underlying assumptions about wine
quality) and the alternative sensorial approach adopted by my informants and other professionals
gravitating around the natural wine world, I will show how taste is framed as a relational and
reflexive activity. Instead of relying on pre-set aesthetic standards, which respond to modern
oenological notions of quality, natural wines allow for a sensorial encounter marked by a sense of
discovery and surprise. I argue that this relational approach to taste, which also characterises the
contemporary consumption of artisanal and ecologically embedded food, meet the locavore
desires of urban middle-class consumers and make natural wines the perfect pairing of
gastronomic movements centred on notions of authenticity, terroir and innovation.1 In this
regard, I will present the case of the New Nordic Cuisine as it provides a good example of the role
played by natural wines in this kind of cuisine. Finally, in the last section of the chapter I will
enlarge my analytical perspective to include legal frameworks of quality such the Italian DOC
system of appellation and their prescriptive role in defining and assessing wine typicity. Due to
their alternative sensorial aesthetics, natural wines do not align to the standards set by these
regulatory regimes and as a result they struggle to obtain the DOC certification. I will show how
my informants deal with this lack of recognition by diversifying their marketing strategies and, in
some cases, by being actively involved into the local wine syndicates as a way to bring about
change over existing interpretations of terroir typicity.

6.2 Natural wines as “unfinished commodities” with multiple values

As products retaining elements of those who crafted them, natural wines maintain specific values
when they enter the global market. As I said in the previous chapter, these wines are the result of
a process of sensorial engagement between the winegrower and the living materialities of wine.
As artisanal products, they are said to bear the marks of the winegrower who crafted them, as if
they were an extension of her persona. During my fieldwork, this concept was explained to me in
multiple terms by different informants (both winegrowers and wine professionals) all converging
around the idea that the wines obtained through this approach were not just commodities
detached by the individuals (and places) producing them. Before analysing in detail the
implications of this human character and in order to have a better sense of what I am arguing, I
will start from an ethnographic vignette drawn from my own fieldwork in Sicily.

I arrived on this side of Etna to follow the harvesting season at Claire’s estate a few days
ago. Today we didn’t work in the vineyard and I took advantage of it to have lunch with

1
Locavorism is defined as a consumer ideology promoting the consumption of locally sourced food,
deemed as qualitatively and morally superior to industrial foodstuffs (Reich, Beck and Price, 2018).

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Isabella and the rest of her crew who had come to Etna. Harvest at Isabella’s was over
and she decided to take her team to visit the vineyards on this side of the volcano, to
show them the place and meet with other natural winegrowers. A sort of school trip. We
had lunch in the restaurant where all winegrowers from the surrounding area usually
come to meet each other, share their experiences and exchange advice, and of course
drink wine together (the restaurant has a well-stocked cellar). As usual, once at the
table, Isabella and the guys decided to pair the coming dishes with a blind wine-tasting.
The rule was simple: in turns, each of them visited the restaurant’s cellar and picked up
a bottle, which was then placed into a black sleeve and put on the table. The wine was
then poured into the glasses and after a moment of silence in which everyone had the
chance to smell it and have a first sip, a series of guesses started to pop up from any
corner of the table. Generally, the first questions were aimed at guessing the macro-
area of origin, gradually reducing the geographical scale up to a single region. Then
participants formulated deductions about the grape variety used, the vinification style
adopted, and finally the vintage (eventually even the producer). After a few bottles
opened, tasted and in some cases properly identified, one of the guys selected a red
wine produced by Isabella five years earlier. Another round of questions was asked, and
guesses pronounced until a common verdict took shape: a red wine from the
Mediterranean area, not excessively aged, grape variety and producer still missing. The
guy who chose the bottle decided to reveal the label at last, and everyone (including
myself) instinctively turned their eyes towards Isabella. She paused for a brief moment,
stuck her nose again in her glass as if she hadn’t recognised a good friend at first sight
and was feeling bad about that, while her eyes started to become teary. The
atmosphere suddenly changed, and after a moment of silence Isabella took the floor.
She told us she got emotional as she suddenly reconnected to a period of her life as a
winegrower where she had been approaching her work through a different state of
mind, characterised by less pressures and more energy. That vintage also marked the
beginning of her relationship with her current boyfriend who had come to her winery
that year as a winemaker apprentice. Her wine made her remember a specific period of
her life and work as a winegrower, and the fact she couldn’t recognise it made her
realise the transformations that had occurred throughout her career and life (which for
Isabella are the same thing as she always says). (Fieldnote 01/10/17)

Witnessing that event proved to be important to my understanding of the deep engagement


informants such as Isabella had with their own wines. The latter indeed embodied intimate
elements of the lives of these winegrowers, including their memories, choices, crises, taste, and

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personality. As a faithful reflection of their own creators, these wines were said to mark different
phases in the life-trajectories of these producers. Margherita for example used these words to
connotate her wines: “I like to define the wines we are currently producing as moody, I like this
term ‘moody’, as I sometimes realise that they retrace not only our state of mind but also our
moments of crisis, our enthusiasm, they retrace what we are at a smaller scale” (interview).
According to Isabella, her wines changed over time as a reflection of the transformation she
undertook as an individual and producer, and that was mainly due to her shifting sensorial
engagement with wine. This evolution in the working experience of these producers generally
presented a similar trajectory pointing towards a closer interpretation of terroir. As I showed in
the previous chapter, that was the case for Margherita. Isabella told me a similar story when she
described to me her latest project involving micro-vinifications of Frappato grapes from different
parcels of her vineyard. If in the past she was more oriented towards the expression of the
“naturalness” of her practices (by rejecting oenological additives and invasive technology), now
her efforts were dedicated to emphasise the sensorial differences characterising plots of her
vineyards located on different soils. As she told me, this new project was the result of a prolonged
experience as a winegrower working in the same territorio and with a specific grape variety
(Frappato), which she felt particularly connected with. During my last stay at her place, she was
working on the labels to put on these new wines which would be released in the following
months. Isabella decided to use different labels, each identifying the single vineyard chosen to
produce the corresponding wine.

As commodities imbued with human elements, natural wines are also said to reflect the
winegrower’s personality. That was explained to me not only by my winegrower informants but
also other professionals involved in the promotion and sales of these wines. Elisa, a Turin-based
natural wine distributor, explicitly told me that “their wine resembles them in an incredible way,
but not all the wines as they might produce five or six different labels, but the wine which they
feel mostly connected to (…) their top-level wine reflects their character” (interview). This close
association between a wine and its producer sometimes implied that the dynamics affecting a
winegrower’s social relations also had a corresponding impact on the way her wines were tasted
and judged. That was the case for Livia, as she told me that she stopped drinking wines made by
winegrowers with whom she had an argument with. Her personal relationship with other
producers extended to include their wines, the two things running side by side. By the same
token, I was often said by my informants that the wines produced by winegrowers who were
close friends of them were very rarely disliked. Again, the two things running in parallel.

As human artefacts, these wines also take on cultural and social attributes connecting the single
producer to a larger community of practice both on a synchronic and diachronic level. My

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informants indeed shared a similar ethos in relation to their work as natural winegrowers, and
opposed that to industrial winemaking and its underlying logic of production and techno-scientific
domination of nature. As I argued in the previous chapter, participating to a community of
practice entailed sharing a similar worldview which actively shaped the way a practice was
interpreted by the members of that community (Grasseni, 2004a). As one producer stated in
relation to his work as natural winegrower, “you cannot see wine through a narrow-minded
perspective, as it were something completely detached from your life. I think that is a huge
mistake. We work in a certain way because we are in a certain way and we think in a certain way.
The opposite doesn’t work”.2 This shared cosmology differentiates these wines from more
anonymous commodities available on the market, and at the same time does not allow a clear
distinction between “work” and “life” categories. As Isabella specified to me numerous times,
being a winegrower was not considered as a job but a way of conducting her life, where wine
represented a living object of love and the true expression of her persona.

On a diachronic level, reconnecting to a community of practice entails a dialogue with tradition. If


for a moment we look at the larger wine sector and the way wine is communicated, it can be seen
that the appeal to tradition is commonly used to emphasise the connection with the place of
origin and so enhance the value of the product. Compared to other food products, wine is more
easily associated to supposedly timeless traditions rooted in specific locales. It is indeed no
coincidence that terroir first emerged as a concept related to winegrowing, and later adopted by
other sectors of food production. While my informants were well aware of their privileged
position as wine producers compared to farmers cultivating other crops, they identified the value
of their work (and craft) in their physical engagement with the living materialities with wine.
While the modern wine industry has gradually detached producers from the end product through
mechanisation and a pervasive use of technologies in each stage of the productive process,
natural winegrowers stress the fundamental role of manual labour and bodily engagement as
core values of their work. By making invisible the site of production and the producers’ bodies,
the wine industry has erased altogether those social, cultural and aesthetic elements embedded
into local practices and knowledge (Van Aken, 2014). What survives of these local repositories of
knowledge are romantic images of antiquated tools and rural farmhouses appearing on wine
labels and brochures aimed at vehiculating nostalgic memories of a supposed rural idyll, which are
themselves commodified through a kind of commercial folklore sold to consumers (Laferté, 2011).
As Domingos (2014) argues in relation to the representation of Alentejo region in wine-marketing

2
This is an extract from an interview taken as part of a public online event organised by the Italian natural
wine association ViniVeri in 2020.

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strategies, “the countryside becomes a living and disciplined museum” (2014: 28), where the past
is naturalised and the lived experiences of local farmers reduced to a crystallised image of rural
life. Conversely, for natural winegrowers working the vineyard and following wine in the cellar are
not just operations aimed at producing a commodity, but it is the very context where knowledge
is socially-reproduced and certain aesthetic values cultivated. Tradition was for them a
meaningful resource to (selectively) draw on, not just a well-crafted marketing strategy. It was
this lived and embodied experience of the place that was vehiculated through their stories when
selling their wines.

When my informants referred to local winemaking traditions, they pointed towards a shared set
of practices and ideas transmitted through generations that still proved effective and meaningful
in relation with what they were doing. What I want to emphasise here is that these traditions
were not mindlessly replicated, instead they were the result of a reflexive selection operated by
these producers. Demossier (2011) and Teil (2014) observe a similar attitude in the contemporary
French wine world, where the “mechanical” reproduction of the viticultural and winemaking
techniques codified by the AOC system (an approach critically defined as the “AOC recipe”) has
been increasingly criticised by groups of vintners seeking terroir authenticity. I will expand more
on the problematic relationship between natural wines and regulatory frameworks later in this
chapter, at this point I want to shed light on the way my informants approached tradition through
their everyday practices. An indication of this reflexive attitude towards tradition lies in the way
my informants generally rejected any identification as winegrowers “looking backwards”, or
“turning to the past”. Their approach to winemaking indeed left space for individual creativity and
innovation, without that being considered antithetical to tradition but instead a vital element of
it. As Abbots (2018) observes when describing the work of craft cider-makers in Britain, “they
consistently celebrate historical continuities in practice, materials and environment and are aware
of the legacy on which they draw. Such continuities are not rendered static, however, but allow
for a conception of tradition that is fluid and subject to change, in contrast to more reified
frameworks” (2018: 134-135). I argue that the same holds for natural winegrowers, even those
who were born into traditional small farmer families who might be expected to retain a stronger
attachment to local tradition.

As I have demonstrated so far, natural wines are not only “alive” but imbued with the essence of
their producers and their reinterpretation of place. They traced the life-trajectories of those who
crafted them, and reflected their personality, their worldview and the relationship they had with
local tradition. For these reason, natural wines can be framed as “unfinished commodities”, an
expression I borrow from Paxson’s (2012) ethnographic work on artisanal cheesemaking in
America. According to the author, compared to a finished commodity whose value results from

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the economic equivalence between its use value and exchange value, unfinished commodities are
unstable and open to heterogenous forms of value. If, in Marxist terms, a finished commodity
leads to labour alienation and fetishism due to the erasure of the social conditions of its
production, unfinished commodities such as artisanal cheese keep the experiences, sentiments
and interests of those who produced them as part of the equation. As Paxson clarifies, “(i)n calling
attention to their own labor, as well as to the productive contributions of farm animals, bacteria,
and fungi, cheesemakers seek to provide a demystified life for artisanal cheese, one distinct from
conventional commodity cheese” (2012: 14). In the case of wine, the same difference can be
found by comparing conventional winemaking with its natural counterpart as I argued above. In
similar terms Terrio (1996) argues that unlike mass-produced commodities, handcrafted
chocolates in France are “incarnated signs” (1996: 71) unveiling particular forms of production
and their attendant social relations, and for this reason they “are the bearers of the social
identities of their makers” (ibid.).

Connected to the “unfinished” status of natural wines, is the ambiguous social position of these
producers as artisans in the contemporary society where the vast majority of people have an
alienated experience of work and for whom the latter does not easily equate with “life” and
“pleasure”. As Paxson (2012) notes in relation to American artisanal cheesemakers, these
producers are neither capitalists exploiting systematically the labour of others, nor wage-workers
with no deep connection with the commodities they produce. Through the comments expressed
by external people not directly involved in this field (such as friends of mine), I could realise the
ambivalent social position of my participants. When describing the topic of my research, it was
common for me to hear comments like “wow, it must be amazing, living with them in the
countryside in their beautiful farmhouses surrounded by vineyards, drinking wine all day long” or,
in a more sceptical tone, “they surely are virtuous winegrowers and respectful to the
environment, but have a look at the prices of their wines!”. These reactions partly contrasted with
my own fieldwork experience and the reality I witnessed while living and working with my
informants. At the same time though, those comments revealed the ambiguity and tensions
nested in the social and economic positioning of these producers within the larger society and the
market. I propose to unravel this complexity by looking at the way these wines are presented and
communicated both by my informants and other wine professionals working in this sector. This
will allow me to enlarge my focus from the production site to include wider arenas where the
values of these wines are negotiated through broader qualitative frameworks such as the national
system of appellations.

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6.2.1 The narrative and evocative dimension of natural wines

As other types of commodities produced in a place and then traded and consumed in different
localities, natural wines have a “social life” (Appadurai, 1986) and a “cultural biography”
(Kopytoff, 1986) attached to them. Still, due to the way they are crafted, and the values
embedded in their production, these wines present a particularly evocative quality which
differentiates them from other commodities in general, and other wines in particular. The idea
that they possess this evocative quality was largely shared among those involved in their
production and trade, as I could realise during my fieldwork and even previously as a consumer
and wine waiter in a restaurant in my hometown.3 Recalling my very first encounters with these
wines and the way I was then trained to serve them to clients, the first reactions I had were
marked by a certain surprise connected to their unusual sensorial aesthetics, and curiosity about
the particular stories attached to them. I will start by focusing on the narrative dimension of
natural wines in this section and then I will move to the question of taste in the next part of the
chapter. When I was trained by the owner of the restaurant where I first approached these wines,
along with the sensorial characteristics of each wine, I was introduced to the biographies of each
single producer. With the opening of each bottle, I started to imagine a small world with its
specific geographical features, the people living in it, their life-stories and even their personality.
During my apprenticeship, each wine-tasting was inevitably paired with a story, as if the bottle
was a book ready to be leafed through. When serving myself the wines from the list to clients who
were not familiar with them, I could perceive the same interest and curiosity. I am not implying
that reactions were always positive and enthusiastic, indeed I happened to find bottles nearly
untouched on the tables by the end of the service or sometimes I was kindly asked to replace the
wine I had chosen with another one that was less “unusual”. However, it was common for those
who were positively impressed to come again to the restaurant with the explicit request to drink a
bottle made by the same producer (or produced through the same approach). When I attended
natural wine fairs as part of my fieldwork, I observed how this story-telling activity routinely
accompanied the practice of wine-tasting.

Usually, if the visitor approaching the stand did not know anything about the winery or the area of
production, the winegrower would start describing the region of provenance and the grape
varieties cultivated locally. As a way to visually present their terroir, producers would also show
photos of their plants (the oldest vines were usually given greater exposure) and the surrounding

3
The restaurant serves fresh, seasonal food which is cooked following traditional Italian recipes with a
certain degree of experimentation. The clientele is mainly composed by middle-class consumers,
international tourists and local aficionados.

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landscape, including the fauna inhabiting their vineyards (as a way to stress the importance of
biodiversity and the liveliness of the soil). Compared to the sophisticated brochures and eye-
catching marketing materials offered by medium and larger conventional wineries, natural
producers generally relied on nonprofessional pictures taken with their own cameras and
collected into informal photo albums. Some of them would bring some local stones, pieces of
rocks, samples of sand and fossils found in their vineyard as physical evidence of the soil
characterising the area where they produced their wines (see picture below).

Figure 16 A piece of local rock with a marine fossil used by Isabella to describe her area (photo by
author)

Others would complement the wine-tasting with other foodstuffs produced in their farming
estates. Margherita for example would usually offer the organic hazelnuts cultivated by her family
on their hills. While describing their own wines, these winegrowers also spoke of their projects,
the decisions they had to make during each vintage, as well as their own aspirations and
convictions as farmers and individuals. Often, wine offered the opportunity to start a discussion
about agriculture, the national and European policies regulating the wine and food sector, as well
as the difficulties in struggling with a burdensome bureaucracy. For example, during a wine fair I
attended in 2017, a producer told me he disagreed with the current EU legal definition of “rural
entrepreneur” (imprenditore agricolo) applied to farmers like him, as it entailed a capitalist logic

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of production which did not value his work as a custodian of the local traditional knowledge and
natural heritage. These public events enabled a political and cultural commentary around themes
connected to taste, practices of conscious consumption, and sustainable production (see chapter
4). Also in this sense, natural wines can be framed as unfinished commodities due to their
potential to activate multiple discourses around their production and consumption. Through their
wines and the values attached to their production, natural winegrowers reflexively placed
themselves within the contemporary political economic order.

6.2.2 Corporeal taste as a sign of quality

While the narrative dimension played an important role in the communication and promotion of
these wines, it was mainly through taste that the relevance of the work of my informants and the
values attached to their wines became mostly evident. Natural wines indeed present a strikingly
alternative sensorial aesthetics compared to more conventional wines. If on one hand that is the
material result of a series of practices conducted both in the vineyard and in the cellar, on the
other hand this sensorial specificity gets assessed through external quality standards set by
normative frameworks and consumption trends. I argue that taste comes to represent the main
terrain on which the values of these wines are expressed and contested at the same time. The
notion of taste I draw on is based on the works by Hennion (2007) and Hennion and Teil (2004) on
amateurs and their engagement with the objects they love. The authors embrace a pragmatist
perspective on taste and criticise the dominant sociological framework of analysis which frames
taste as the passive individual reflection of socially determined dispositions. Instead, the French
sociologists define taste as a situated and reflexive activity

involving amateurs turned towards their object in a perplexed mode. By ‘perplexed’ we


mean them being on the lookout for what it does to them, attentive to traces of what it
does to others; a sharing out among the direct sensations to be experienced (or whose
experience is being sought), and the indirect relays that permit one to change one’s own
judgement a bit, while relying in part on the advice of others (Hennion, 2007: 104).4

I follow this perspective on taste as it sheds light on the corporeal encounter between the taster
and the thing tasted without reducing the latter to a passive object, instead considering it “an
infinite reservoir of differences” (Hennion, 2007: 101). In this sense, I will analyse how tasting for
my informants is a sensorial and reflexive activity and at the same time a collective technique

4
While the authors develop their ideas by focussing on amateurs (as opposed to non-professionals) only, I
argue that in my research context what they claim applies not only to consumers with an interest in natural
wines, but also the same producers and wine professionals.

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involving a group of tasters sharing judgements over the quality of the thing tasted. I will start
from discussing the sensory experience of tasting wine which was at the centre of the work
conducted by my informants in the cellar once grapes transformed into must and then wine. As I
showed in the previous chapter, taste is indeed a sense particularly stimulated throughout the
various stages of production. Even before entering the cellar, grapes are object of scrupulous
samplings aimed at assessing their level of sugar and acidity during the crucial weeks anticipating
the harvesting period. After the fermentation, producers get involved into a series of systematic
tastings to assess the quality of the evolving wine which in turn will guide them in deciding the
future steps to take. Here I present an extract from a fieldnote where I describe in detail this
sensorial process.

Compared to last year, when Isabella’s winery was quite packed with people working with her
during the hectic days of harvesting, this year the number of cellar workers is smaller and I have
the opportunity to follow Isabella more closely in her daily operations in the cellar without putting
much pressure on her. Indeed, I am now familiar with this working environment so I am more
aware of the specific rationality structuring the space of the cellar. I have learned how each body
must occupy a specific place according to the task and how important it is not to be in the way.
This year I have also got the chance to participate in the creation of the wine assemblages, an
operation which in Italian is called fare il taglio, literally “doing the cut”. It is indeed that moment
of the year when Isabella has to blend wines from different tanks, which together will make up
her entry-level red wine, an assemblage of Nero d’Avola and Frappato wines. I am training my
palate to perceive the differences occurring from tank to tank and from day to day, repeating
Isabella’s gestures and listening to her evaluations. Wines are tasted directly from the vat various
times per day, generally at fixed hours of the day starting from early in the morning. It is
important to find those moments when the palate is more reactive to external stimuli, and for
Isabella tasting in the morning proves quite effective. By tasting the same wines in the same order
over various days in a row systematically, I have started to gain a sort of sensorial continuity or
habituation that allows me to understand better what it means for my informants to have an
intimate relationship with the sensuous materiality of wine. I find some tanks are more easily
recognisable than others; for example, tank number 6 is easy to identify due to a peculiar smell of
eucalyptus I perceived during my first tasting. With this initial sensation in my head, I have been
trying to feel how it is changing and evolving throughout the days. Isabella uses different tanks to
keep grapes from different plots divided even after the fermentation and until she has to blend
them together. That allows her to reproduce a sort of detailed sensorial map of her vineyards into
the cellar. While she actively encourages her assistants to establish an attentive and tactile
relationship with wine, she is the only one in charge of making the various assemblages. This

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process is the result of a series of samplings repeated many times a day, where she first tastes the
wine from each single tank individually and then start combining small amounts of wine from
different vats into the same glass. During the act of tasting, she looks absorbed in a sort of
meditative silence where she browses through her sensorial memories trying to attune her palate
to the wines she made the previous vintages. While tasting the current wine, she also has to take
into account how it will evolve, in particular how the different components (acidity and sugar) will
adjust to each other over time. Not relying on external substances to modify the wine, she can
just “play” (giocare in Italian) with the different vessels at her disposal (wooden barrels, concrete
and stainless-steel tanks) and move wine from one tank to the other to “play” a bit with oxygen.
In order to blend the various wines, she does not follow a fixed recipe but instead she seems to
proceed more instinctively, trusting her own senses step by step. In these days where I am
following her in her tastings, she is actively including me in the process by asking me my own
impressions on the wines tasted. Trying to overcome my initial embarrassment, I share my
perceptions glass by glass by using expressions that best capture what I feel: “a bit salty”, “dry”,
“short”, etc. She listens to me with an open-minded attitude, and by sharing our perceptions we
reach a sort of common judgment. When Isabella is satisfied with an assemblage, she takes a note
of the numbered tanks she wants to blend on her cellar diary. (fieldnote 04/10/18)

The sensorial aesthetics of natural wines is then crafted by these producers through a process
that simultaneously takes into account the living properties of wine and the winegrower’s
sensitivity and capacity to become affected by them. The cellar represents a key site where taste
(in terms of judgment) is shaped by an ongoing sensorial engagement with wine (the tasting
experience). As Abbots (2018) argues in relation to British craft cider makers, it is through the
taste of the product that the artisanship entailed in the productive process is made visible. By
shedding light on their perceptual involvement in the unfolding materialities of wine, natural
winegrowers in fact place their own bodies at the centre of their work and at the same time they
oppose their corporeal practices to conventional and industrial winemaking. Following Abbots’
argument, these producers play the role of tastemakers within their restricted universe and in
doing so they set the agenda of what counts as “quality” and “good taste”. Quoting Abbots,
“(c)orporeal taste, as the manifestation of a maker’s value system, provides a paradigm through
which social tastes can be defined, assessed, and hierarchised” (2018: 127). Although my
informants did not conform to conventional quality standards (as I will show later in this chapter),
they actively constructed an alternative normative framework through which they judged the
quality of their and other producers’ natural wines.

As I said above, the cellars of my informants were one of the main venues where this corporeal
taste was actively cultivated and promoted. That was particularly evident in those cases where

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wineries became attractive hubs drawing young apprentices, wine professionals and other
cultural intermediaries interested in natural winegrowing. During my fieldwork, I observed how
the estates of some of my informants were thriving centres where practices and ideas connected
to “good taste” and “quality” were shaped and spread. In chapter 4, I described Isabella’s estate
as a sought-after destination not only for wine tourists but also leading personalities of the
international food and wine scene. Masters of Wine, Michelin-starred chefs, wine journalists and
distributors periodically walked through the gates of Isabella’s winery to gain a better sense of her
work. In those occasions, Isabella’s guests were invited for a tour in her vineyards, followed by a
visit in the cellar where she showed the concrete tanks occupying the main fermentation room as
well as the wooden barrels aligned into the aging room (a dimly lit space located underground
and carved in the local bare rock). If the visit took place right after the harvesting period when the
grape masses were still fermenting, Isabella would invite her guests to share the sensorial
experience of breaking the cap of grape skins in one of the open vessels placed in the middle of
the cellar. When getting in contact with the living materialities of the must, I could see the
amazement and excitement in the eyes of the visitors (something I had experienced myself).

The tour then would continue with a wine-tasting taking place in Isabella’s own house, where
visitors could pair her wines with her olive oil and other food produced locally. During these
encounters, Isabella would provide her visitors with detailed descriptions of the geographical
locale (in terms of soil, climate, vines, grape varieties used), the weather conditions of specific
vintages, and the technical aspects of the production process. Through this narration, it emerged
not only Isabella’s choices and decisions made throughout each step of the process, but also the
meanings and values attached to her work (her respect for the vines, the attention paid to the
living elements of wine, her vision on agriculture more generally, etc.). Looking in particular at the
wine-tasting moment, all the attendants freely shared their own impressions with no one
exercising authority over the other tasters. Isabella was open to the comments arising from her
guests, and interested in knowing their perceptions as if her wines were not defined once for all,
but instead able to engender different judgments. The language used in those occasions did not
resemble the sophisticated lexicon of sommeliers and wine connoisseurs, and it was less focused
on visual parameters and a detailed description of the bouquet and more on the tactile
components of wine (in particular acidity and tannins). Overall, wine was treated as a living entity
unfolding and evolving in the glass and for this reason time was an important dimension in the
process of tasting. I will expand more on these specific aspects of the wine-tasting practice later in
this chapter, for the moment I want to highlight how tasting natural wines was a corporeal and
situated activity that required reflexivity and attentiveness, and at the same time it provided the

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social context where definitions of “good taste” and “quality” were shaped and shared among
those involved in this practice.

6.2.3 Natural winegrowing as a lifestyle

Along with the reproduction of this alternative normative framework, these occasions allowed
producers to disclose their own worldviews not only through their discourses but also in more
practical terms. That was particularly evident to me while I was spending my time with Claire and
her family harvesting in their estate on Etna. During that period of the year, Claire’s place became
a lively hub for various groups of people who came to visit her estate, taste her wines and share
with them the festive atmosphere characterising the harvesting season. Since my very first day
with Claire, I could feel a sort of relaxed and informal environment surrounding the daily activities
undertaken in the vineyard and in the cellar. Claire and her partner (who also worked as a natural
wine importer and distributor) had been hosting her parents and brother who had come to help
them collect the grapes and take care of their two children. A young Tasmanian head sommelier
of a restaurant and organiser of a natural wine fair, had been invited at their place to visit the
area and have a closer understanding of the work behind Claire’s wines (which featured in his
restaurant’s list). Moreover, everyday day other visitors informally joined our team, helping with
carrying the crates from the vineyard to the cellar or emptying them into the old palmento, the
local traditional open stone vat Claire used to ferment the grapes (see picture below).

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Figure 17 Claire’s palmento with one of the vats filled with harvested grapes (photo by author)

There was a couple of local fledgling winemakers hanging around Claire’s winery to seek advice
from her, who had been allowed to use one of her clay amphoras to vinify their own grapes. In
this sense, Claire’s winery was a sort of laboratory for local apprentice winemakers and amateurs
who wanted to experiment with small plots of vineyards owned in that area. There were also
international wine professionals working as distributors, importers or head sommeliers in
restaurants serving natural wines (including Claire’s). They were all there to get a direct sense of
the work done by Claire so as to better describe the story behind the bottles they would serve
back in their countries. This heterogenous group of people gravitated around Claire’s place while I
was conducting my fieldwork at her winery. Their curiosity and genuine interest in the working
activities conducted in the vineyard and in the cellar contributed to create a vibrant and joyful
environment. The lunch breaks in particular were marked by a convivial atmosphere, with all of us
gathering in Claire’s courtyard where meals were consumed with a beautiful vista on the
vineyards and the volcano and with some music in the background. Locally sourced food prepared
by Claire and her family was combined with other dishes offered by local neighbours, and
numerous bottles of wine circulated around the table. Many of them were unlabelled magnum
bottles from different vintages coming directly from Claire’s cellar, but there were also wines
made by other fellow natural producers. In this context, tasting wine was an integral part of
Claire’s lifestyle, not something detached by it or just a means to earn a livelihood. By sharing her

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wines with her guests, Claire was also sharing the values and meanings attached to her work and
life as a natural wine producer. In her words, “we are not trendy people, we don’t care, well if we
go out we wear something like a clean pair of jeans but I do not use make-up every day or we
don’t get crazy for cars.. our house, you saw it, it’s like that, instead (we spend) our money to eat
and drink and spend time with friends and travelling, these are the important things for me and
my partner”. When I asked her how she chose the range of prices to apply to her wines, the reply
she gave me pointed towards the same direction: “we want people to drink our wines, not to
collect them, we want wines which are affordable not only for the rich, but that you can drink on
an everyday basis, at lunch, at dinner, without having to spend a fortune. And then there are
other wines whose cost of the work in the vineyard is much higher, so in order to earn a living out
of it we are forced to apply a little higher price” (interview 02/10/17). Producing and consuming
wine for Claire were then two activities tightly connected, with one enabling the other. Her
approach to winegrowing and, at large, life was at one with the way she welcomed her guests,
built relationships with local people and shared with them her knowledge and passion for wine.

6.2.4 The social reproduction of a natural taste

Another important context where my informants actively played the role of tastemakers, were
the annual wine fairs organised by the natural wine associations of which they were members,
and more exclusive wine-tastings arranged by their distributors and importers. As part of my
fieldwork, I attended many of these events which allowed the community of producers to gather
in one location for a couple of days and present their wines to the public. As I argued in chapter 4,
natural wine fairs were occasions of intense sociality both for the community of producers and
the general public, with wine acting as a major catalyst. Here I want to highlight how these events
were crucial for the reproduction and promotion of an alternative normative framework where
producers acted as tastemakers. These events were indeed important occasions for producers to
mutually communicate their knowledge and experiences, taste together their wines reinforcing
that way their shared sensorial parameters of taste. As my informants told me numerous times,
tasting with other fellow producers was a fundamental learning experience as they could train
their own palates (especially in the presence of more experienced winegrowers). During the
various wine-tastings offered to the public attending these events, producers had the possibility
to explain their philosophy of production, describe the geographical features characterising their
wines and define the criteria to assess the quality of their products. The visitors were indeed
actively invited by the producer to identify what in other contexts would have been considered as
flaws and re-shape those sensorial perceptions in a positive fashion. For instance, my informants
would positively assess the cloudiness marking their wine or the volatile acidity pervading the

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taster’s palate and explain the reasons behind that alternative aesthetic. Obviously, the level of
complexity of these conversations depended on the kind of interlocutor who was standing in front
of them, and my informants told me that they could discern between an experienced taster and a
neophyte since the very first question posed by the person approaching their stand. The most
engaging and economically determinant exchanges were the ones with the professionals of the
sector (wine journalists, importers and distributors), which in fact might end up in new profitable
networks potentially opening up new sales channels. In the case of my informants, the working
relationships forged with their agents (especially the very first ones who invested on them and
traded their wines) had transformed into long-standing friendships. Having an influential
distributor or importer capable of promoting the values endorsed by the community of natural
producers was indeed crucial for the financial viability of my informants’ enterprises. As Isabella
told me once when discussing about these relationships, it was important for her to find
professionals willing to engage and empathise with her (and other fellow producers’) perspective
on natural winegrowing as they were considered key actors in the promotion of a natural wine
culture.

Natural wine fairs were not only venues where the public could taste craft products that were
difficult to find in supermarket and other major retailers, but also an arena where an alternative
wine knowledge was produced and transmitted through social interactions, and a series of
thematic seminars and workshops running parallel to the main event which were usually
organised by cultural agents such as wine educators, journalists and experts. For example, during
the wine fair Vini di Vignaioli in November 2018, Lydia and Claude Bourguignon (two renown
French microbiologists and soil experts) were invited to present their latest book on sustainable
agriculture at a roundtable organised by the independent editor Possibilia Editore.6 Besides the
producers’ stands, there was usually a section devoted to books, magazines and other cultural
products traded by independent publishers who contributed to frame a public discourse (and a
language) around natural winegrowing, the wine-tasting practice and other related themes
(sustainable food production, organic agriculture, wine-tasting expertise, etc.). During my
fieldwork, I found many of these publications in the houses of my informants who read them with
interest to get updated about the state-of-the-art of the natural wine world, the emergence of
new production sites and wineries, and the most recent dynamics affecting the wine and food
sector at large (see picture below).7

6
Their book has been translated in Italian by Possibilia Editore Bourguignon, L. and Bourguignon, C. (2018)
Manifesto per un’agricoltura sostenibile. Translated by Cogliati, S. Milano: Possibilia Editore..
7
The stories of some of my informants (and their wines) featured in these magazines. I personally used
these materials to gain a better understanding of the values attached to these wines.

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Figure 18 A magazine dedicated to natural wines in Isabella’s house (photo by author)

The literary works produced by the pioneers of the communication and promotion of this small
wine world, for example the volumes published by Porthos Edizioni since the early 2000s,
represented for my informants a valuable tool for their own cultural (and identity) formation as
natural winegrowers at the beginning of, and throughout, their own working experience.

What characterised this social production of knowledge, I argue, was a pronounced reflexive
attitude towards the way their parameters of taste were shaped, assessed and defined. As they
were aware of their contested position within the larger wine sector, these producers approached
their work with a particular sensitivity to their own practices, attributing positive values to the
craft involved in their engagement with wine. As a result of this approach to wine production,
taste was for them a key category of meaning as it imparted the main differentiation from the
more conventional industrial wines. This reflexivity characterising their identities as natural
winegrowers was a common trait of their persona, as I could realise during the time spent with
them on the field.

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6.3 The relational aesthetics of natural wines

After having explained the peculiar status of these wines as “unfinished commodities” and the
modalities through which these products are communicated and assessed, I now expand more on
their alternative sensorial aesthetics in order to understand better the place occupied by these
products within the larger wine (and food) sector. Natural wines represent an outstanding
deviation from standard oenological practices and that has an impact on their recognition within
official normative frameworks such as the Italian system of appellations. I will start with an
ethnographic vignette which finds myself tasting a glass of Livia’s wine at her place during a
winter evening, where she discussed how she dealt with the unpredictability of her wines.

After dinner, we decided to open a bottle of a limited-edition white wine produced by Livia’s
family, which was the result of a unique combination of oversight and luck. Indeed, in 2000 her
brother had left an entire tank of Moscato must unattended and had forgotten it in the cellar for
over fifteen years. Thanks to the spontaneous creation of a thick superficial layer of yeast
(technically called flor) the wine did not spoil, instead underwent a long process of evolution
which is usually undertaken to produce the Spanish dry sherries and the French vins jaunes. When
they finally recovered the abandoned tank, they got surprised as the final wine had maintained its
integrity throughout all those years.8 When Livia told me that story, I could not imagine what to
really expect from that wine other than a certain sense of surprise. She opened the bottle, poured
some wine in our glasses and left it there for a while to give it some oxygen. It had a nice amber
colour and when I stuck my nose into the glass, I was hit by a wide range of unusual smells
ranging from rosemary, walnuts, and thyme to candied orange and dried apricots. While I was
mentally trying to connect those smells to past sensorial memories, Livia seemed engaged in the
same process as if she were tasting her wine for the first time too. We shared our own different
impressions out loud, trying to build a comprehensive portray made up of sensations, sensorial
memories, and free associations. When I finally tasted it, I was struck by its vibrant acidity and
freshness which were accompanied by mineral notes and a feeling of salinity which persisted in
my mouth for a while. In that occasion, Livia told me that one of the main characteristics that
differentiated natural wines from their conventional counterpart was their innate tendency to be
unpredictable, even for the same producer who had crafted them. Due to their liveliness, they
were highly sensitive to the weather conditions, temperature and even moon phases and as a
result they constantly evolved in the bottle and changed from day to day even once opened.
Producers such as Livia were then engaged in a sort of never-ending process of discovery of the

8
These serendipitous events are not unusual amongst natural producers, and they reveal the value
attributed by these winegrowers to unpredictability and uncertainty.

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multiple sensorial possibilities offered by their wines. As Livia pointed out, that did not mean that
the sensations found in her wines were always pleasant on every occasion, instead they could also
sometimes result quite disappointing. That was part of the process. From the way she described
this unfolding sense of surprise, I realised that unpredictability was perceived as a positive value
and evidence of their own approach to winegrowing.

6.3.1 Valuing inconsistency and uncertainty

Compared to conventional wines, which are praised by their consumers for being consistent and
predictable over the years, natural wines present an alternative sensorial aesthetics. In order to
appreciate their distinctive character, it is fundamental to take into account the core values that
shaped their production. The starting point of these producers was represented by an attentive
and engaged relationship with the non-human multiple entities inhabiting the vineyard
environment. Treating vines as having their own agency was indeed the main assumption guiding
the viticultural practices undertaken by my informants in their vineyards. Once in the cellar, their
work proceeded by maintaining the same ethos and in fact they accompanied the living
materialities of wine without interfering through invasive practices and the addition of external
substances such as enzymes, commercial yeast and other oenological products that would alter
wine’s original microbiological components. This perceptual engagement with wine, based on a
work of care and as such open to intuition, experimentation and uncertainty, was also applied to
the repeated acts of tasting and consumption. In what follows I will show what it really meant for
my informants to taste a wine which was said to be alive and unfolding not only in the bottle and
the glass, but also in the taster’s own body. To frame my argumentation, I will draw on the vitalist
approach I adopted to analyse the human – nonhuman interactions taking place both in the
vineyard and in the cellar. Recalling the example of the apple illustrated by Mol (2008), in the
encounter between the tasting subject and the object tasted these supposedly clear-cut
boundaries are blurred into the creation of a network of multiple relations where no one has full
control of the situation.9 If applied to my context of study, it seems correct to argue that the
taster’s body and the wine tasted could be said to be entangled with each other, with human
agency not fully governing the whole process. In the specific case of wine, a temporary
obfuscation of human rationality is in a way something easy to imagine considering the
intoxicating power of wine on human body. But my aim here is to frame wine as acting with its

9
In Mol’s words: “I eat an apple. Is the agency in the I or in the apple? I eat, for sure, but without apples
before long there would be no “I” left. And it is even more complicated. For how to separate us out to begin
with, the apple and me? One moment this may be possible: here is the apple, there am I. But a little later
(bite, chew, swallow) I have become (made out of) apple; while the apple is (a part of) me” (Mol, 2008: 30).

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own agency regardless its capacity to alter the human mind when consumed in larger amounts.
With its multiplicity of living entities each possessing their own agency, natural wine is better
thought of a sort of Deleuzian and Guattarian assemblage. Bennett (2010) draws explicitly on
these two authors to give a definition of assemblage:

Assemblages are ad hoc grouping of diverse elements, of vibrant materials of sorts.


Assemblages are living, throbbing confederations that are able to function despite the
persistent presence of energies that confound them from within […] The effects
generated by an assemblage are […] emergent, emergent in that their ability to make
something happen […] is distinct from the sum of the vital force of each materiality
considered alone. Each member and proto-member of the assemblage has a certain vital
force, but there is also an effectivity proper to the grouping as such: an agency of the
assemblage. And precisely because each member-actant maintains an energetic pulse
slightly “off” from that of the assemblage, an assemblage is never a stolid block but an
open-ended collective, a “non-totalizable sum”. An assemblage thus not only has a
distinctive history of formation but a finite life span. (2010: 23-24)

Framing natural wine as an assemblage implies considering the winegrower and her actions as an
integral part of it or, in Benett’s words, one of the vital forces adding to the agency of the
assemblage as such. When my informants talked about the liveliness of their wines and the
manner they behaved once tasted and consumed, affecting their own bodies and memories in
unpredictable ways, they were pointed towards this complex agency and its open-ended
character. This inherent uncertainty, which exposed these producers to a certain degree of risk,
was positively assessed but at the same time had to be carefully handled. Margherita, for
instance, made it really clear this point while discussing about her “moody wines”: “I
experimented a little too much without sulphur dioxide over these last few years and now I have
to take a step back for the sake of my own emotional stability [we both chuckle].. It’s nice to
experiment but it’s also nice to keep my feet on the ground” (interview 25/01/17). It was crucial
for my informants, especially those who tended to have a radical approach to experimentation, to
reach a sort of delicate balance between their desire of innovation and experimentation on one
hand, and the necessity to craft a product which was marketable enough on the other. As I have
shown so far, they were all well aware of the existence of a niche market where their wines could
be profitably placed, and in fact they had developed reliable networks of sales agents spanning
different countries and securing a stable demand. Still, their wines needed to reach a minimum
level of stability in order to be traded, even more so when they had to travel a long distance from
the site of production to the final destination (like, for example, Japan). During my fieldwork,
some of my interlocutors recalled (with some embarrassment) stories about batches of faulty

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wine they had to withdraw from the market. Those negative events became part of their learning
experiences as winegrowers constantly dealing with a great amount of risk.

At the same time, the uncertainty and unpredictability characterising these wines were deemed
as a tangible sign of craft, and as such to be preferred to conventional products which in this
respect were criticised for being easily recognisable and deprived of any personality. In term of
taste, these peculiar features translated into wines that were difficult to assess through the
standard approach to wine-tasting. This deviation from the norm was not endured by my
informants, instead they actively criticised the recourse to aesthetic parameters (both visual and
taste-olfactory) which did not fit their own products. Speaking about the smells and aromas found
in natural wines, Livia described the difference between natural and conventional wines in these
terms:

There are completely different sensations when you taste natural wines, even in terms
of smells, they are way more complex compared to a conventional wine, which is
anyway limited to a fruit fragrance, so they (natural wines) allow room for plenty of
interpretations and it is difficult as our nose is not much used to recognise all these
smells so it is nice to do it together with another taster as the person in front of you will
always track down other aromas and smells that you might not find in that moment as it
becomes really subjective anyway.. so for me this is the difference, you don’t have such
fixed characters like the usual banana fragrance that are always the same, (instead) you
have an incredible range of complex aromas and smells that you really need to train to
recognise them and that leads to a lot of different emotions so this exchange is really
stimulating as it connects you to your memories, to different situations and emotions,
food that you could have eaten in the past and so yes, it’s like a discovery, a re-discovery
of things. (interview 24/01/17)

The wider range of smells and aromas found in natural wines were not negatively sanctioned,
instead triggered a process of sensorial discovery which gained the best results when done
collectively, so leading to a multiplicity of possible interpretations. As my informants told me
many times during the numerous tasting sessions I attended, there was no such thing as a
incorrect perception when drinking a natural wine. According to them, taste remained a radically
subjective and relational activity and as such could not be definitely sanctioned as inappropriate
according to pre-set normative standards. In this sense, the prescriptive nature characterising the
mainstream approach to wine-tasting was rejected, and with that also the unbalanced power
relations emerging between the expert and the novice (Silverstein, 2006).

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6.3.2 Conventional wine-tasting and haptic taste: two opposite perspectives

Before expanding more on this critical difference between the open-ended character of natural
wine-tasting and the more rigid attitude of conventional wine critique, it is useful to give a brief
overview of the mechanisms structuring the latter. To do so, I will start from my own personal
experience of apprenticeship as a wine taster undertaken before embarking upon my
ethnographic fieldwork. In 2015, I enrolled into a wine-tasting course organised in my hometown
by ONAV, the oldest Italian association of wine sommeliers. Having already been exposed to
natural wines (and their contested position within the sector) by the time my course started, I
approached my apprenticeship through a certain critical distance. I was indeed aware that what I
was going to learn from my weekly course would problematically be applied to the wines I used to
serve at the restaurant where I had been working. Still, the course provided me with a solid
theoretical background on the foundations of the wine-tasting technique and more generally the
winemaking process. As part of each lesson, participants were guided by the instructor to the
tasting and assessment of a set of wines through a proper evaluation sheet (see Appendix E). The
latter was divided into three distinct sections, each assessing and describing a specific sensorial
dimension of wine: its visual appearance, smell, and flavour and texture. Each of these main
sections was in turn divided into a number of sub-sections aimed at the evaluation of specific
features such as colour or flavour intensity, through a numerical scale. The purpose of this
sensorial exercise was to dissect wine into its main components in order to arrive at a final rating
score. As my course progressed, I was becoming more and more able to recognise specific aromas
and flavours, and transform my own sensorial perceptions into analytical judgments and scores.
At the same time though, I realised that my training was about reproducing an underlying
normativity that structured the whole tasting process. Once learned the rules, it became easier to
fulfil the requirements of the tasting exercise and align to the aesthetic parameters set by the
association. That became even more evident during one session when we were presented with a
set of natural wines. The didactic purpose of our instructor was indeed to highlight how that
typology of wines was difficult to assess through the criteria learnt during the course. If judged
through standard analytical categories, those wines constituted the quintessential example of a
flawed product: cloudy colours, strong animal and funky smells, high levels of volatile acidity and
excessive oxidative notes. That was why before the actual tasting, the instructor warned us about
their contested status and the heated debates surrounding them. It seemed clear that there was

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no space for natural wines to be judged by resorting to the classic evaluation sheet, making clear
the radical difference posed by these wines.10

This impossibility of assessing natural wines through the standard score system also entailed the
inapplicability of the terminology used to describe more conventional wines. I am not stating that
the cognitive process by which I was trained to translate sensorial cues into linguistic expressions
was easier with conventional wines. To the contrary, much research on wine has been produced
on the intersection between language and the sensorial (Gawel, 1997; Gluck, 2003; Caballero,
2007; Suárez-Toste, 2007), highlighting the complexity of making communicable a sensorial
stimulus through words. What I am arguing is that the whole body of knowledge (including
language) mobilised to assess conventional wines was actually modelled around an oenological
understanding of winemaking, which mostly diverged from the one adopted by my informants.
That indeed explained why natural wines did not easily adjust to standardised evaluation criteria,
instead they actually escaped them. When I discussed this critical point with Giovanni, a wine
journalist and director of an independent publisher, he explained to me the reasons were to be
found in historically inter-connected moments which saw the emergence of oenology as a science
and its close association to the wine (and food) industry:

the problem is not wine per se but (…) the fact that in the last forty, fifty years it has
been structured, also on the basis of how wines were stylistically made (…) a theory of
taste that is largely useless. Partly because it has become clear along the way that things
from a physiological point of view do not function the way they taught us, and partly
because the theory of taste has been (…) very often promoted to give credit to the
structures of power which needed it, so due to commercial reasons, and not due to
formative, educational reasons addressed to the taster (…) For example the majority of
the visual criteria, of the visual examination of wine, which are quite clearly the result of
an oenological perspective in its worst possible sense, that is the fact we are taught wine
should be transparent, brilliant and crystal-clear, is the overlapping of different cultural
moments. On one hand, (and) the good thing about it, it is the result of the fact we
learned (…) that a brilliant wine, before the arrival of oenological technologies, generally
stands for a flawless wine (…) on the other hand the need of transparency is the result of
the fact that oenologists showed up and their products, techniques and technologies
allowed wines to be totally transparent and crystal-clear, that became an aesthetic

10
Over the last years, the association has given more space to natural wines through thematic sessions and
wine-tastings where natural producers have been invited to present their own wines. A sign that this
category of wines has acquired a certain visibility within the larger sector.

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standard of quality (…) all this theoretical apparatus has been basically built in parallel,
even in chronological terms, to the standardisation of taste which in turn is the result of
an agro-industrial model of production, so the development of the intensive and
extensive agriculture, the systematic application of all processes of refinement,
treatment of raw materials to preserve them, making them lower-priced, more
consistent and more homologated (…) who was born and raised at least in the past half
century belongs to this culture whereby the diversity and unpredictability of taste is not
acceptable any more. (interview 20/04/17)

The Italian philosopher Nicola Perullo (2016;2018) similarly argues that the analytical language of
oenologists and sommeliers found its origins in the Department of Viticulture and Oenology of the
University of California, Davis around the 1940s. The knowledge developed was instrumental to
the industrialisation of the wine sector which involved an increasing standardisation of quality
control. The practice of wine-tasting emerged as a method to assess wine through analytical
categories based on sight, smell and taste. The purpose of wine-tasting was the formulation of a
supposedly objective judgment which had to be as neutral as possible. To do that, wine was
dissected into its main constituents so that they could be analysed and measured in both
qualitative and quantitative terms. Against this objectification of the perceptual processes
involved in wine tasting, Perullo (2016) proposes a radically different approach based on what he
defines as “haptic taste”.11 Drawing on an ecological and phenomenological perspective, the
philosopher considers taste perception as an unfolding relational activity that is always situated
and where the properties of the things tasted are better understood as affordances. In his words,

haptic perception is immersed consciously in the experiences of life, flowing on the


surfaces and paths we walk along, moving through the world we inhabit. In my proposal,
hapticality is not focused on objects and their qualities; instead, it is diffused across the
processes themselves felt as evolving substances […] hapticality has more to do with
exposition and unpredictability than with systematization, persistence, and control.
(Perullo, 2018: 266)

As a consequence, wine is not a passive object of aesthetic appreciation, but a living substance
engaged in an ongoing process of correspondence with those who taste it. The experience of
tasting wine is configured as an encounter, a deep perceptual engagement which embraces all
parts of the body, and does not enable only the recognition of specific smells and aromas but also
the emergence of emotions, memories, pleasure (or rejection) and stories that constitute the

11
The adjective “haptic” derives from the Ancient Greek haptesthai, which means “to touch”.

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contours of the experience itself.12 As such, tasting wine entails a sense of discovery, imagination
and creativity that is not limited to ticking the right box according to a priori standards (as I
perceived myself during my training as a wine taster), instead it opens up new paths of
knowledge. This process of ongoing attunement to, and correspondence with, wine and
everything else we encounter through our senses is cultivated through care, attentiveness and an
education of attention to the surrounding environment and its multiple ecological relations.
Natural wines, which are crafted through this ecological awareness, seem to offer a perfect
example of how this pragmatics of taste actually unfolds. Indeed, as Livia told me on several
occasions, these wines offer the possibility to engage with a multiplicity of smells and flavours,
enabling a process of discovery which discloses unpredictable emotional reactions and fosters
various associations to past sensorial experiences. The relationship my informants established
with their wines was framed as an encounter with a living substance which was subject to ongoing
change and transformation, whereby the same wine could lead to different sensations depending
on the context and moment of tasting. Even in more formal situations, such as wine fairs, the aim
was not to formulate definitive judgments, instead the act of tasting offered the possibility to
engage with the work of the producer, the place where wine was crafted, and the sensations
engendered from that specific sensorial encounter. Due to its relational nature, tasting wine was
in fact perceived as a situated and social activity, where the narrative dimension was not (only) a
sales strategy but a constitutive aspect of the same tasting experience. Similarly to what Hennion
and Teil argue (2004; 2007), tasting is a relational and collective activity that fosters reflexivity and
is constructed (and modified) by sharing our own individual experiences with others.

Not only natural wines facilitated this relational approach to tasting, they also actively contributed
to the cultivation of this ecological and relational awareness, what Perullo (2018) calls “gustatory
wisdom” as opposed to technical expertise. According to Giovanni, the wine journalist I
interviewed, natural wines indeed hold an important educational value insofar as they provide us
with the possibility of tasting flavours and aromas that are not the standardised products of the
agri-food industry:

What is interesting in the natural wine movement is that the good natural wine (…) is for
me, or better, for everyone who is approaching it, an extraordinary opportunity to
proceed with a re-education of taste (…) it has a very strong cultural significance (…) you
could do that with conventional wine as well but if you do that with conventional wine

12
In this regard, Perullo notes how the standard practice of sipping small amounts of wine and spitting them
out reflects this objectifying attitude towards wine, which does not take into account its naturally
intoxicating power.

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you get bored after three times, (something that doesn’t happen) with natural wine,
precisely because it is way more diverse, way more unpredictable and intriguing, way
less easily prone to being pigeon-holed. (interview 20/04/17)

6.3.3 The cultivation of a “taste for uncertainty”

In this regard, geographer Anna Krzywoszynska (2015) notes how the marketisation of
ecologically embedded edibles, that is food products crafted through artisanal, traditional and
quality practices that do not rely on industrial processes, reveals the possibility to engage with
taste in alternative ways. Whereas other foodstuffs undergo processes of qualification
(certification schemes, technologies, and legislative frameworks) centred on certainty to be
successfully traded, ecologically embedded edibles are constructed through a different
conceptualisation of quality. The author focuses her analysis on ecologically embedded wines and
argues that the qualities mobilised by their producers are based on notions such as
“inconsistency”, “variability” and “uncertainty”. Similarly to what Paxson (2008) argues about
artisanal cheesemaking in the US, natural winemaking is framed as a mode of production which
emphasises the ecological and environmental elements constituting wine, and places value on
uncertainty and variability. While an inherent component of risk can affect the commercialisation
of these wines especially on those markets where quality is strictly regulated by a set of
conventional aesthetic standards, the cultivation of an alternative taste is fundamental to the
establishment of more profitable market niches.13 Natural winegrowers are indeed engaged in
training the palate of their consumers to an unusual range of sensorial perceptions, which are
associated to specific ecologies and processes of production. As a result, the taste of these wines
is not set against a priori normative standards of quality but is framed as an emergent activity that
foster reflexivity and connect the consumer to the social and ecological conditions of their
production. According to Krzywoszynska (2015),

a taste for uncertainty is a roaming taste that thrives on diversity. It is a taste that
supports products which are not standardized, but are changeable and surprising. It is
not prescriptive as to the objects of taste, but challenges consumers to exercise
reflexivity in their tasting, to assess and value their taste experiences, and experiment

13
The prices of natural wines are generally higher compared to the industrial wines found in supermarkets
and large retailers. As artisanal products with added value, consumers accept to pay more to drink them. In
the documentary Resistenza Naturale by Nossiter, the group of natural winegrowers at some point discuss
about the ethics applied to the prices of their wines. Some of them have decided to sell their entry-level
wine at a lower price.

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with their own ways of making foods and drinks edible so as to support artisan
production with their taste buds. (Krzywoszynska, 2015: 500)

As argued, my informants (and their intermediaries) were at the forefront of this process of taste
education. Annual fairs, wine-tasting sessions and visits to their own estates were all important
occasions to negotiate the multiple values of their wines through a specific focus on taste. As
Paxson (2012) notes in relation to artisanal cheesemaking in the US, “the successful commercial
practice of a craft includes educating a consuming public to discern and appreciate the variation
(within reason) produced by a workmanship of risk” (2012: 155). In the same way, for my
informants training the palates of their consumers proved fundamental to the commercial success
of their wineries.

6.3.4 Natural wine consumption as an elitist practice? The New Nordic Cuisine case-study

The emergence of artisanal and traditional products through alternative food networks and more
structured movements such as Slow Food has responded to the necessity of establishing closer
connections between producers and consumers. To this end, a new relational food aesthetics and
taste education have been crucial to address and satisfy consumers’ desires of a renovated
sensorial engagement with the natural, social and cultural qualities of the food consumed
(Murdoch and Miele, 2004; Hayes-Conroy and Martin, 2010; West, 2016). In this sense, natural
wine consumption can be inscribed into this contemporary trend characterised by a greater
reflexivity towards food (and wine) and a new relational approach to taste. At the same time,
natural wines are also exposed to a similar criticism about the elitism characterising these
consumption practices; Slow Food provides an eloquent example in this regard (see Laudan
(2004) and Chrzan (2004). I will tackle this specific aspect by looking at the way natural wines
represent the perfect pairing of the so-called New Nordic Cuisine, a recent gastronomic
movement founded by a group of influential Scandinavian chefs. This will allow me to analyse the
place occupied by natural wines in the international food and wine scene and reflect over the
values these wines share with a gastronomic movement that promotes a strong connection to a
supposedly Nordic terroir and a taste for the unknown.

Looking at the natural wine market, Denmark (and its capital in particular) can claim to be the
leading European centre of natural wine consumption with its wide range of bars, shops,
restaurants and retailers offering good selections of natural wines. For my informants, Denmark
and the other Scandinavian countries represented a flourishing market where to trade their
wines, and Copenhagen was one of the destinations of their annual sales trips. The current
success of natural wines in the Danish capital is said to be connected to the emergence of a

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Nordic cuisine focused on sustainable, seasonal and organic food, and a restaurant in particular
whose chef is considered the most vocal champion of this gastronomic movement. The Michelin-
starred restaurant Noma and its creative Danish-Macedonian chef René Redzepi were indeed the
first to offer a list of natural wines to pair their dishes in the early 2000s.14 Since then, an
increasing number of restaurants and wine bars have opened their doors to this category of
wines.

The so-called New Nordic Cuisine (NNC) was officially launched through a ten-point culinary
manifesto in 2004 and it was presented as a gastronomic movement aimed at the rediscovery and
promotion of an allegedly lost Scandinavian food identity through the appeal to a unique Nordic
terroir.15 The manifesto, which was signed by a group of Scandinavian chefs (including the Noma
head-chef Redzepi), combined notions of sustainability, ethical consumption and well-being with
a specific reference to a supposedly Nordic identity. The “purity”, “freshness” and “simplicity”
characterising the Nordic region are emphasised as the unique geographical attributes of a taste
which reflects seasonality, has a strong ethical attitude towards land use and animal welfare, and
is open to innovation. While some of the principles expressed in the manifesto were actually
borrowed from the French Nouvelle Cuisine, the idea of rediscovering the “traditional Nordic food
products” through gastronomic innovation was revolutionary (Jönsson, 2013). This quest for a
truly Nordic taste has been supported by a multi-disciplinary team of researchers and scientists
studying local ingredients, traditional processes and modern techniques with the purpose of
challenging the conventional relationship between edibility and pleasure (Evans, 2012). The
ingredients used to prepare the dishes are presented specifying their origin and processes of
production. When I interviewed Lorenzo, the Italian head-sommelier and co-owner of a
restaurant in Copenhagen whose philosophy has been influenced by the NNC, he stressed the
importance of communicating to his clients the provenance of all food and wines served: “as you
enter (…) there is a map of Denmark, where we put all our suppliers, from the one who brings us
wheat to make bread to the one who brings us chickens, all of them are put there so that you
know for each thing who our suppliers are and their origin (…) the provenance of everything is
explained” (interview 28/02/18). As part of this culinary project, a new sensorial engagement with
food is promoted and communicated not only during the meal itself but also more widely through
illustrated cookbooks and dedicated TV shows. Chefs play a fundamental role into this process of
sensorial discovery, which also entails the practice of foraging in the wild Nordic landscape to

14
https://noma.dk/
15
https://www.norden.org/en/information/new-nordic-food-manifesto

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source new raw ingredients (Pico Larsen and Österlund-Pötzsch, 2013).16 The terroir discourse is
strategically used here to associate the Nordic nature to a specific taste and a cultural identity. In
the globalised contemporary scenario, characterised by cultural homologation and food
anonymity, the NNC has been interpreted as a sort of post-national movement that “reproduces a
Nordic imagined community based on the (re)creation of a Nordic cuisine that takes its meaning
from the production of locality, in the form of the Nordic terroir” (Tholstrup Hermansen, 2012).
Similarly to other food movements emerged as a reaction to the industrialisation and
standardisation of food production, the NNC fosters a closer connection between small-scale
producers and consumers through a renovated attention to taste. In the case of NNC, tradition is
framed as a fluid category that accommodates innovation, experimentation and influences from
abroad while highlighting the natural qualities of the Nordic terroir.

Having presented the main features of this highly orchestrated gastronomic operation, I now
want to shed light on the role played by natural wines in this cuisine. As I previously argued,
natural winegrowers invite consumers to embrace a reflexive attitude to taste, which does not
rest on pre-set evaluative standards, but it is framed as an emergent activity that values
uncertainty and unpredictability. Similarly, the NNC points at surprising the palate of their clients
through an array of unusual tastes where the conventional boundary between edible and not-
edible is thoroughly reshaped and eating becomes a multi-sensorial and fun experience (Pico
Larsen, 2010). Speaking about dining at Noma, Lorenzo told me that “when you get out of Noma,
it is an experience so intense that it takes a while to answer to yourself to the question ‘did I like
it? Didn’t I like it?’ as you basically get slapped by the dishes, the flavours, the wines, everything”
(interview). In this respect then, the unconventional sensorial aesthetics of natural wines finds a
perfect correspondence in the food served by the NNC. While describing in particular his own
approach to his clients, Lorenzo told me that his aim was “not to make anyone stupid, as in my
opinion you don’t need to be an expert to enjoy wine (…) I don’t want to make it feel like school,
or speak about stuff which is not interesting, I tell you why I’ve chosen that wine and why it is an
enjoyable exercise for me (choosing it) and why it matches that dish, full stop” (interview). A taste
for uncertainty seems then to challenge the authority associated to wine connoisseurship and
expertise and frames the act of drinking wine as a pleasurable activity deprived of an excessive
snobbery.

From a gastronomic perspective, Lorenzo added that the pronounced acidity characterising many
natural wines finds a good pairing in the food served at Noma and other like-minded restaurants

16
Redzepi is also the author of various cookbooks where he describes his journeys to the Nordic countries to
find out local food varieties and traditional cooking techniques.

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in Copenhagen, which is prepared by applying preserving and fermenting techniques to the raw
ingredients sourced in the Nordic countryside.17 As he explained me, these techniques were
traditionally used to preserve food in places where the climate is mainly rigid, summers are short
and as a consequence fresh vegetables are not easily sourced throughout the year. Acidity is also
the object of ad hoc studies conducted by a team of scientists working closely with Redzepi’s
restaurant. Evans (2012), a researcher of the Noma’s Nordic Food Lab explains that “one project
we return to continually is our search for new types of acidity. While citrus fruits are the staples of
sourness in warmer climates, they don’t grow as well here in the north, so we have turned to
fermentation to provide us with these necessary sour flavours.” According to Lorenzo, both the
NNC and the natural wine movement have not only been ground-breaking with respect to the
norms dictating what is “good taste” but also because both of them have promoted geographical
areas that were previously considered peripheral on the international food and wine map. Wine-
regions such as the French Jura and Beaujolais where the natural wine movement took its first
steps, were not indeed comparable in terms of prestige with Burgundy and Champagne. The same
has happened with the Scandinavian countries, which have been recently rediscovered as a
pristine land whose genuine and healthy food products have acquired culinary legitimacy through
the success of the NNC and its creative chefs such as Redzepi.

Looking at the consumers of these food and wines, we can observe they mainly belong to an
urban, young and well-educated middle-class (Smith Maguire, 2019). Natural wine consumption
has indeed often been described as a craze, a hipster phenomenon thriving in cosmopolitan urban
centres where an appetite for local products characterises middle-class food (and wine)
consumption. If drinking natural wine in Copenhagen is usually framed as a laidback pleasurable
experience, a certain taste, curiosity and spending capacity are nevertheless necessary conditions
to gain access to this category of wine. 18 Shifting the focus to the NNC, if this gastronomic
operation can be associated to alternative food movements for its emphasis on authenticity,
terroir and the revitalisation of traditional practices, still “these ‘alternative’ spaces are adjusted
to middle-class ideals” (Leer, 2016: 3). As it is argued in a study on the perception of the NNC and
its application to everyday food consumption (Müller and Leer, 2018), the NNC has not
transformed the eating habits of Danish people and its success has mainly been a cultural and
culinary phenomenon connected to fine dining and the media. In this regard then, the NNC and
natural wines seem to share a certain exclusivity as far as their consumption is concerned
(Krzywoszynska, 2015). If on one hand a taste for uncertainty offers an alternative, more reflexive

17
Natural wines are often praised for their gastronomic value as they are said to pair well with food due to
their peculiar organoleptic characteristics and versatility (see for example Bietti, 2013).
18
https://www.heremagazine.com/articles/copenhagen-natural-wine

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approach to the consumption of food and wine and, particularly in the case of natural wine,
challenges existing hierarchies based on connoisseurship and expertise, on the other hand price
and access barriers limit the application of this experimental approach to taste to everyday eating
and drinking practices. As I will argue in the last section of this chapter, existing legislative
frameworks such as the Protected Geographical Indications (PGIs) and national systems of wine
appellations contribute to this limitation by reinforcing standards of quality which are aligned to
reified, normative notions of taste which stand in stark opposition to a view of taste as a
relational and contextual activity.

Finally, looking at the ways in which locality is produced and reinvented in the NNC, there is an
additional point of contact with natural wines and their complex relationship with the place
where they are crafted. The kind of engagement my informants had with the localities where they
lived and worked was marked by a sense of disconnection and lack of recognition. The estates of
my informants indeed represented some sort of happy islands without a real connection with the
local rural community. Despite being praised by international experts and critics as virtuous
models for the production of wines expressing the local terroir through a reflexive use of
traditional practices, natural winegrowers did not enjoy the same recognition at local level. Their
wines were indeed mostly consumed by an urban middle-class displaying a reflexive palate as well
as a taste for the uncertainty. The values and cultural legitimacy of natural winegrowing relied on
a transnational network of influential cultural intermediaries such as distributors, importers,
critics and sommeliers which secured the placement of these wines on profitable market niches
(Alonso González and Parga Dans, 2018). The same kind of complexities seems to mark the
relationship between the NNC and a rediscovered Nordic locality from which this gastronomic
movement has drawn its value by strategically playing the terroir card.19 Copenhagen indeed
remains the epicentre of a locavore food scene which nevertheless does not include large sectors
of its own population and the rest of the country. As a sort of urban bubble disconnected from
the Nordic countryside on which has built its own gastronomic success, the Danish capital relies
on influential cultural intermediaries and inspirational personalities such as Redzepi who have
positioned the city on the gastronomic world map.

19
As it has been aptly observed by Pico Larsen and Österlund-Pötzsch Pico Larsen, H. and Österlund-Pötzsch,
S. (2013) 'Foraging for Nordic Wild Food', in Lysaght, P. (ed.) The return of traditional food. Lund: Lund
University Studies, pp. 68-78., the notion of Nordic terroir promoted by the NNC rests on the traditional
image of a pristine, uncontaminated nature. As such, it does not include human intervention as it is instead
the case when used in wine production.

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6.4 Natural wines as contested and contesting products of terroir

If natural wines represent the perfect pairing of a cuisine founded on notions of authenticity,
naturalness, and sustainability and their consumption thrives among a well-educated urban
middle class with a taste for local products, their legitimacy as terroir wines is still contested
within normative frameworks of quality such as the French AOC and the Italian DOC systems of
appellations. Due to their alternative sensorial aesthetics, natural wines are indeed at the centre
of heated debates concerning the standards to judge their quality and in particular their
association to the place where they are produced. Here, I will focus specifically on what is at stake
for natural winegrowers producing what they consider terroir wines, when they have to deal with
normative frameworks that are set on conventional quality standards.

6.4.1 Italian natural wines and their contested typicity: different strategies

As West (2013a) argues in relation to Appellation and Indications of Origin (AIOs) in general, the
idea of a close association between a product and its place of origin has always been shaped by
cultural, political and economic interests which often lead to social contestation. As legal
instruments that define and guarantee the “authenticity” of the products under a protected
geographical name, they defend the interests of some producers and exclude others from
profiting from the added value attached to these products. In the case of natural winegrowers
framing terroir as an emergent quality to be judged a posteriori, it is evident how the pre-set
definition of typicity issued by legal frameworks such as the French AOC represents an object of
contestation. The Italian DOC system of appellation rests on similar premises for what concerns
the definition and protection of authenticity and the procedures undertaken to grant a wine the
denomination of origin. Producers who intend to certify their wines under a legally recognised
appellation, have to submit samples of their wines to the local DOC commission which judges
their conformity to the specifications set for that denomination. To obtain a DOC/DOCG label,
each wine has to pass through two different stages: a bio-chemical testing and a sensorial
assessment. While the first test is based upon objective criteria as it measures the chemical and
physical wine components (including alcohol volume, pH and acidity), the organoleptic analysis is
conducted by a panel of accredited tasters who evaluate the conformity of wine to those aromas
and flavours considered typical from that area. The winegrower is then informed about the
outcome through a written report that eventually contains recommended adjustments to be
made for the wine to be granted a DOC/G label. When I discussed this testing procedure with my
informants, all of them expressed similar concerns and an overt criticism to the whole
certification process. In particular, they resented the fact their wines usually struggled to obtain
the DOC/G label due to their supposed “flaws” or “lack of typicity”.

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6.4.1.1 Livia’s case-study

As Livia experienced it, the issues around the DOC certification reflected a situation of mutual
misrecognition involving both the local DOC commissions and the natural winegrowers like
herself:

Our work, so it means our wines, is often frowned upon and ill-considered by the DOC
tasting commissions, which use parameters set for conventional wines, so wines that
have to be absolutely sterile under any respects starting from the colour (…) these
commissions are not really familiar with traditional wines, so for example our Moscato
d’Asti, which is always a full-bodied, intense, mature, rich wine with intense aromas and
a dark, golden colour as the real Moscato should be, it is considered a wine which
doesn’t stick to the parameters, as the adopted parameters are the ones set by the
technology used to make modern Moscato wines, that is wines which are white, nearly
odourless, slightly scented and which eventually are really banal, not so interesting
wines (…) so what happens is that they don’t recognise your wine but you do not
absolutely feel recognised by these parameters (…) it becomes a serious damage in
economic terms if you are used to sell a Barbera d’Asti and they don’t approve your
wine because it is atypical, but the fact that it is atypical should not be a flaw, and
“atypical” as compared to what? (interview 23/01/17)

Although the DOC qualification trial was said to rest on a highly debated view of typicity and serve
the commercial interests of larger industrial wineries, Livia and other like-minded natural
producers still wanted to certify some of their wines due to the value attached to the DOC/G
label. While all my informants shared the same criticism towards the national system of
appellations, the reasons behind the choice of certifying part of their wines were multiple and
diverse. In Livia’s case, it was a matter of pride and recognition of her family’s work to connect
their own Moscato to the specific area where they produced it, especially as they considered
themselves the last custodians of this local wine tradition (see chapter 4). Without the DOC
certification indeed, they would not have even been able to put the name “Moscato” on the label
and declare the grape variety used and its provenance.21 At the same time though, Livia could
count on her family’s long-standing reputation within the French natural wine market niche
where their wines had been highly appreciated and consumed since the late 1990s (as I described

21
Piedmont region indeed represents a quite exceptional case in this sense, as wines can either be classified
as DOC/G wines or directly downgraded to the lowest category which includes all wines without a
designation of origin. According to the latest European classification introduced with the Council Regulation
(EC) No 479/2008, these wines are now termed “Generic wines”.

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in chapter 4). Evidence of the appreciation enjoyed by their Moscato in France was the fact that
their family name was used to denote the whole typology of Moscato wines. Despite the
difficulties in obtaining the certification and the criticised role of the local DOC commissions,
Livia’s robust network of sales agents and intermediaries allowed her wines to circulate in France
and abroad where they were tasted and valued as authentic products of terroir. As I argued in
chapter 4 in relation to the complex engagement my informants had with their own locality, here
again it can be seen the contradictions nested into this kind of approach to wine production which
draws its value from the close association to a place and nevertheless does not find its
legitimation at local level. Livia’s case shows how the legal transposition of terroir into a set of
fixed regulations failed to recognise the work conducted by her family, and their attachment to a
tradition which they felt as something alive and shaping their lives on an everyday basis. As West
aptly states in relation to the creation of geographical indication regimes, “(d)epending upon who
ultimately controls the application for a geographical indication, it may in fact do less to protect
‘tradition’ […] than to legitimate and facilitate transformation in tradition’s name” (West 2013:
341). According to Livia and the rest of my informants, the criteria used by the local DOC
commissions not only proved unsuccessful in recognising authentic wines of terroir but promoted
a distorted notion of typicity which did not place value on the agricultural practices and
production methods adopted by those winegrowers. The official definition of typicity mainly
rested on modern oenological notions and techniques that had led to a general standardisation of
tastes. Instead of valuing the creative process of production based on a deep perceptual
engagement with the living properties of wine (and their ecological relations), the DOC
commissions approached wine as detached from its own specific context of production and
through aesthetic and oenological standards founded on consistency and predictability. Failing to
value innovation and inconsistency as markers of quality and craft, the DOC system of appellation
operated as a standardising device (Krzywoszynska, 2015: 497) aimed at establishing similarity
among the wines produced in each specific geographical area. As Bowen and de Master (2011)
argue in relation to the contradictions inherent to institutional processes of food heritagization,
“regulatory mechanisms fix production techniques in time and space. In doing so, these schemes
and labels have the potential to reduce, rather than enhance, the diversity that characterizes
many local products” (2011: 77). While both the work of my informants and the DOC regulations
revolved around the key notion of terroir, it was nevertheless evident that two conflicting
interpretations were at stake there. The way my informants framed terroir did not align to the
static, reified notions of tradition and typicity upheld by the DOC regulatory scheme.

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6.4.1.2 Costanza’s case-study

Costanza’s case instead revealed other motivations behind the choice of qualifying part of her wines
as DOCG products. Costanza and her partner were newcomers with a previous working experience
in finance. Compared to Livia, they did not inherit the land where they produced their wines and
could not rely on a solid network of sales agents when they started their own wine business.
Initially, Costanza had tried to have all her red and white wines protected under the local DOCG
denominations.22 The legal certification was indeed considered an important guarantor of quality,
especially for a small winery like hers which was not already known on the market. After some
unsuccessful attempts where her wines were rejected by the local DOC commission, she matured
a different position in relation to her initial marketing strategy. She told me she totally disagreed
with the motivations expressed by the commission which considered her wines as flawed and
lacking typicity due to the way they were crafted:

Besides the waste of time due to bureaucratic reasons, they (the DOC commission) also
annoy me because, for example, now we got the qualification of our Dolcetto from old
vines and as usual due to the fact there are no sulphites or very few, then they write
“we recommend to protect the wine really carefully”…our Barbera for example, and that
was the last straw so after that we decided to withdraw it (from the qualification trial),
they wrote “de-acidification is recommended”, which is a recommendation that you
should not give for a variety like Barbera, it is exactly the variety’s typicity and you
recommend me de-acidification?? That makes me quite hopeless, at the same time it
should also be said that on a commercial level the DOCs unfortunately are so devalued
nowadays, as you find some DOCs thoroughly deprived of any quality, on a commercial
level having the DOCG does not mean anything nowadays. (interview 05/09/17)

Despite her disappointment, Costanza decided to maintain the DOCG certification for her
Dolcetto and two of her Barbera wines and she intentionally downgraded the rest of her
production. When I asked her the reasons of her diversified commercial strategy, she told me that
was mainly due to her engagement within the local collective project aimed at the protection of
the Dolcetto d’Ovada DOCG denomination. As I described in chapter 4, Costanza was one of the
founders of the Ovada’s wine syndicate (consorzio di tutela) together with a small group of
second-generation and newcomer winegrowers who wanted to restore the prestige of this
specific wine tradition and promote the corresponding local area of production. Her personal

22
The DOCG certification represents the top level of the Italian wine classification, and is characterised by
stricter specifications of production.

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engagement with the DOC framework was then meaningful for her to the extent that it served the
purposes of the newly founded local consorzio. At that point, it seemed reasonable for her to
qualify two of her Barbera as DOCG wines too, otherwise having only her Dolcetto labelled as
such would have negatively affected the consumer’s perception about the remaining wines.
Costanza’s case shows how these producers experienced a tension between their resistance to
the DOC qualification trials and the commercial opportunities offered by having a DOC/G label
when placing their wines on certification-focused wine markets. At the same time though,
Costanza’s involvement into the Dolcetto d’Ovada DOCG syndicate introduces an element of
active participation into the politics of protection and promotion of the local wine heritage.
Through her engagement within the consorzio, Costanza tried to vehiculate a renovated image of
Dolcetto wine and a different interpretation of the local terroir. Sometimes these collective
efforts from within the local syndicates obtained concrete results concerning the same
specifications of production for the wines under a denomination. That was the case with the
Sicilian Cerasuolo di Vittoria DOCG appellation whose regulations on the production of the
homonymous red wine were amended under the impulse given by the local consorzio where
Isabella was one of the leading members. She indeed firmly believed that by being involved into
the local syndicate she could gain some scope for action towards the transformation of the
criteria set to define and assess her wines. If it was still difficult to change the rather blurred
organoleptic parameters defining the wine’s sensorial profile, there was nevertheless room to act
on those standards regulating the bio-chemical composition of wine. The consorzio indeed
managed to reduce the parameter about the minimum alcohol volume and abolish the addition of
concentrated grape must, allowing producers such as Isabella who wanted to promote a different
interpretation of the local wine to obtain the DOCG certification.

The ethnographic case-studies described here show how these natural winegrowers were able to
strategically place their wines in different kinds of markets despite the general lack of recognition
of their work at the DOC/G certification level. Moreover, some of them were also actively
engaged into a process of negotiation of the quality criteria set by that regulatory regime,
showing their capacity of being influent social actors at local political level despite the small-scale
size of their production. Their engagement was even more remarkable in terms of female
representation within these wine syndicates, where the number of women involved is still
considerably inferior compared to its male counterpart. Indeed, the percentage of female
winegrowers within the administrative boards of the Italian consorzi di tutela is currently limited
to approximately 10%, while the percentage accounting for the number of female producers

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serving as presidents of these boards is even inferior.23 In this regard, Margherita told me that
being a woman affected her role as a producer within the local DOC commission. The other male
members were particularly harsh on her and downplayed her work as a winemaker. Because of
that, she decided to withdraw from the commission and downgrade all her wines.

6.4.2 Wines without DOC/G labels

A part from the wines traded with a DOC/G label, nearly all my informants decided to downgrade
the rest of their production to “generic wines” as a way to express their criticism towards the
national regulation scheme and its functioning.24 As I argued in this chapter, they preferred to
count on the direct engagement with their consumers and, more importantly, their sales agents
and distributors to vehiculate the values attached to their production. By actively cultivating an
alternative taste more aligned to their worldview, my informants managed to place their wines in
profitable market niches where their products could be appreciated and positively assessed
despite the lack of legally recognised quality labels. That was mainly possible through the
development of ramified networks constituted by international cultural intermediaries such as
wine critics and journalists, importers, chefs, distributors. Within these networks, alternative
knowledge paradigms through which to identify markers of quality and typicity were socially re-
produced by both natural winegrowers and experts through repeated collective tastings. These
paradigms were not only reproduced and shared among those involved in assessing natural wine
quality, but also codified in more structured bodies of knowledge which could serve as point of
reference for consumers as well. That was the case with the “geo-sensorial” approach promoted
by Jackie Rigaux, a French wine critic and researcher at the University of Bourgogne who is highly
regarded within the natural wine world. As opposed to the sensorial analysis used by oenologists
and sommeliers to assess the organoleptic qualities of wine, the “geo-sensorial” approach to
wine-tasting is specifically focused on the gustatory profile of wine and the correspondence
between a wine’s flavours and its terroir of provenance. According to Rigaux (2017), the
expression of terroir in wine can in fact be detected mainly through the palate rather than the
nose (as it is instead the case for sensorial analysis), and it is identified through a series of mineral
flavours. As for other relevant publications on these themes, I found copies of the Italian
translation of Rigaux’s book in the houses and cellars of my informants, and I had the chance to
discuss the merits of this approach with them during our numerous wine-tasting sessions.25

23
https://www.federdoc.com/la-federdoc/
24
The same strategy is adopted by groups of French natural winegrowers, too.
25
The Italian translation of Rigaux’s book “La dégustation géo-sensorielle” (2012) was curated by Porthos
Edizioni.

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The criticism to the DOC system accompanying the decision to downgrade part of the wines
produced each year, sometimes found a visual dimension in the labels designed by these
producers. Drawing on a vocabulary which ironically stressed the outlawed status of these wines,
some natural winegrowers opted for colourful labels featuring bandits and pirates or containing
wordplays which referred to the name of the appellation they had been excluded from (see
pictures below as an example).

Figure 19 A bottle of natural wine labelled as “denominated bandit” (Author: Ermanno Granelli on
Pinterest)

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Figure 20 A bottle of Ivag (which is the reverse of “Gavi”, a DOCG of Piedmont) (Botrytis Enoteca,
2021)

6.5 Conclusions

In this chapter, I have focused my attention to natural wines and the alternative and multiple
values attached to their production and consumption. As the result of a process of production
that aims at preserving the agency of its human and non-human components, natural wines
represent a peculiar kind of commodities. They indeed express the natural and living elements of
the place where they originate and reflect the individual choices and interpretation of the
producers crafting them. As I showed through my ethnographic materials, natural wines are
particularly evocative of the ecological, social and cultural conditions of their production and as a
result they bear multiple and heterogeneous values which make them “unfinished commodities”
(Paxson, 2012). They are indeed imbued with the sentiments, beliefs and ethos of their producers,
who in turn express through their wines their own identities and worldviews. It is in particular
through taste that the alternative values of these wines are expressed, and their quality assessed.
Connecting the taste of these wines to the corporeal engagement and manual labour entailed in
their production, natural winegrowers are the principal actors in the constitution and

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dissemination of an alternative normative framework of quality. The relational and reflexive


approach to terroir characterising the artisanal work of these producers finds a correspondence in
the way these wines are tasted and assessed. As the contingency and materiality of terroir is not
repressed but actively embraced through a perceptual engagement with its living properties,
similarly taste is framed as a reflexive and relational activity that is open to unpredictability and
uncertainty. While natural producers invite consumers to cultivate this “taste for uncertainty”
(Krzywoszynska, 2015), conventional winemaking and wine-tasting techniques as well as national
systems of denominations are based on pre-set quality standards that reject the living and
unstable multiplicity of natural wine and impose a crystallised notion of typicity. Against such
technical oenological knowledge and regimes of authentication, natural producers and their
networks of sales agents and cultural intermediaries promote and disseminate an “alternative
gastro-normativity” (Pavoni, 2020) that preserves the non-human materialities of wine and
positively values the radical contingency of its consumption. I also showed how my informants
strategically dealt with the DOC system of appellation to fulfil their own commercial interests and,
in some cases, bring about transformations from within the same institution. As agents of change
actively engaged in promoting alternative interpretations of terroir, these women managed to
express their own views and be influential even in contexts still largely dominated by men.

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Chapter 7 Conclusion

The goal of this study was to investigate the production and consumption of natural wines
through an ethnographic analysis of the work undertaken by female natural winegrowers in Italy.
In doing so, I argued that natural winegrowing represents a contested field of practice within the
larger wine sector and I showed how the ideas and practices of my informants reflect the tensions
nested in this world of wine. As new influential social actors, who reject or transform traditional
gendered roles which still characterise the conventional wine sector, these women indeed push
boundaries and propose new ways of engaging not only with wine but also with nature, the place
where they live, and national regulatory frameworks. While navigating the Italian natural wine
movement by playing an influential role (especially Livia and Isabella) and relying on well-
developed transnational ties to trade their wines, my informants carve out their singular stories in
highly individual terms which would have been impossible just a few decades ago. Their wines
reflect their personalities, but also an attentive engagement with the lively materialities
inhabiting their vineyards and cellars. By approaching their work with a great deal of
experimentation and self-reflexivity, they shape novel material and aesthetic relationships with
wine which break with industrial winemaking and conventional wine consumption. At the same
time, they selectively use and promote local traditional knowledge and practices in ways which do
not align with official heritage narratives (like the UNESCO) and clash with existing systems of
authentication (i.e., the DOC/G appellations). Their engagement with locality is nevertheless
ambiguous as their estates often represent local bubbles disconnected from the surrounding rural
community. In their stories, all these different tensions cohabit without being necessarily
reconciled and characterise these women as disruptive actors within the larger wine field.

By living and working with these producers over repeated periods of time between 2017 and
2018, during which I could step into their world and observe the commitment and passion they
put in crafting their wines, I have come to a better understanding of these tensions and the
multiple meanings and values attached to these wines. Ethnographic fieldwork has been
fundamental to my understanding of the kind of engagement my informants had with wine and
the place where they lived and worked as natural winegrowers. Moving between multiple sites
represented a challenge but also enriched my overall perspective on this approach to wine
production and made me acknowledge the differences and similarities between my research
subjects in terms of life-trajectories, motivations, social roles, and ideas. In this concluding
chapter, I summarise the main research outcomes of this study, highlight the original contribution
of my study to the existing literature on wine, and make a final reflection on natural wines.

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7.1 Main research outcomes and contributions

Before engaging in the ethnographic analysis of the production and consumption of natural wines
in Italy, I investigated wider socio-cultural and political trends investing both the current European
food scenario and the larger world of wine. I argued that natural wines indeed sit at the
crossroads between traditional claims to terroir, new environmental sensitivities and the
increasing demand for artisanal and authentic food products. In a current scenario characterised
by food anxieties and raising environmental concerns, Western consumers express their criticism
over the perceived anonymity attached to industrial food production and look for more socially
and ecologically embedded food products. Alternative food movements such as farmers
associations and Slow Food have emerged as a response to these renovated desires of sensorial
engagement with the social, cultural, and natural contexts of production. In an attempt to locate
natural winegrowing within this larger scenario, I built on the anthropological and sociological
literature on artisanal food, food activism and alternative food movements. By focusing on the
key concept of terroir and its role in the creation of Geographical Indications at European level, I
turned my attention to the wine sector where the French concept first emerged. Drawing on the
existing literature on terroir and wine globalisation, I argued that natural wines partly respond to
current global trends that have seen the gradual erosion of terroir in the Old World of wine and,
at the same time, a process of democratisation which has introduced a broader notion of
provenance that values the winegrower’s biography, ethos, and context of production. Promoted
as authentic wines of terroir with an emphasis on sustainability, natural wines seem to tap both
into traditional claims to terroir and new emergent desires for authenticity and local
embeddedness.

Nature and terroir are two key dimensions at the core of natural winegrowing, and their
unfiltered expression in the final wine is source of heated debates within the larger world of wine.
What does it really mean to produce wine by letting nature express itself? How is terroir
interpreted by natural wine producers? To respond to these questions, I adopted both a
diachronic and synchronic perspective that allowed me to understand the meanings and choices
attached to the current production of these wines. Terroir proves to be a guiding principle that
informs the practices and choices of my informants, especially in a region like Piedmont where a
strong French influence has historically shaped the way winegrowers engage in wine production.
Still, I argued that what characterises the work of my informants is a reflexive and strategic
posture which is applied to different levels and scales, from their complex relationship with the
locality where they work and live to their critical engagement with organic certification. Looking in
particular at the production of these wines, reflexivity and relationality are at the core of an
approach to viticulture and winemaking which preserves the complex intertwining between

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human and non-human agencies both in the vineyard and in the cellar. Adopting a
phenomenological and new materialist approach to analyse the work of my informants, I showed
how, through care and attentiveness to the unfolding materialities which make wine a living
“assemblage” (Bennett, 2010; West, 2013), these producers establish an intimate, sensorial
relationship with it and, at large, the place where it originates. The various degrees of
experimentation and innovation through which they express the natural qualities of their wines
are considered as an integral and essential part of the process, the personal mark of craftmanship
involved in this kind of production which differentiates these wines from their conventional
counterpart.

Drawing on my ethnographic materials, I highlighted the different and multiple engagements of


these women within a field of production which has historically been dominated by men. By
choosing a group of female producers with different backgrounds and biographies, I have been
able to draw a diversified picture which reflects similarities and differences amongst these
women. Young, mobile, and well-educated, these women have embraced their work as natural
winegrowers through a highly personal approach which is reflected in the wines they craft. Highly
regarded for the quality of their products, which enjoy increasing appreciation especially abroad,
my informants have been able to carve out their own space within a world which has traditionally
excluded them from leading positions and entrepreneurial roles. Even those who grew up in
traditional families of winegrowers have managed to assume a recognised role in the family
business and a certain degree of independence. As new and influential social actors who push the
boundaries of past gendered configurations within a contested field of production such as natural
winegrowing, my informants have provided me with a unique perspective to investigate this
world of wine. They indeed represent the most innovative side of the Italian natural wine
movement.

Finally, in chapter 6 I argued that the multiple alternatives values attached to natural wine
production and consumption are tightly connected to the way these wines are crafted and
imbued with individual, social, and cultural elements. As artisanal products made by winegrowers
who reflexively engage with the non-human agencies inhabiting wine (starting from the vines and
their multiple ecological relations with the rest of the living environment), natural wines present a
radically different sensorial aesthetics which challenges existing normative frameworks of quality.
Drawing on Paxson’s (2012) notion of “unfinished commodities”, I argued that these wines remain
associated to the material context of their production and reflect the personality of their
producers. Values such as inconsistency, unpredictability, and uncertainty are actively praised as
tangible signs of craft by the same winegrowers, who act as tastemakers and construct alternative
frameworks to assess the quality of their wines. The same kind of relational and reflexive

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approach to production is cultivated at the consumption end, where my informants and other
professionals invite the consumer to embrace an open-minded attitude towards taste. As
contesting and contested products of terroir, natural wines propose an “alternative gastro-
normativity” (Pavoni, 2020) which sheds light on the unfolding materialities of production and
consumption without being trapped into fossilised regulatory frameworks.

By providing an ethnographic analysis of the work conducted by female natural winegrowers in


Italy, this thesis contributes to the emergent anthropological literature on natural wines. At a time
of increasing concerns about the negative impact of human activities on the environment, more
sustainable methods are being sought after by both small and larger wineries worldwide. On their
part, anthropologists, sociologists, and geographers interested in the world of wine have started
to focus their attention on these themes and I believe natural wines will be more and more at the
centre of their future research. I hope my work will constitute a valuable piece in the formation of
this new field of anthropological study. My analysis of natural winegrowing as a contested field
where the nature-culture divide is thoroughly reshaped by my informants sheds new light on
scholarly discussions about the current ecological shift and our role in it. By approaching
winemaking with a great deal of experimentation and sensitivity to the multiple materialities
inhabiting wine, my informants push the boundaries of conventional understanding of nature and
culture. By focusing my attention on the complex entanglements between human and non-
human agents involved in the production of natural wines, my ethnographic account provides an
original contribution to the emergent scholarship in the field of multispecies anthropology.
Moreover, in choosing female winegrowers as my main research participants, I have given voice
to a group of social actors who has rarely been the object of anthropological studies dedicated to
wine. My thesis sheds light on changing social configurations which see female winegrowers play
leading roles in a predominantly male world of wine. Equipped with a solid technical background
and at the head of their wineries where they are in charge of each step of the production process,
these women express through wine themselves and their interpretation of terroir in highly
individual ways.

7.2 Crafting alternatives through wine

In light of what I argued throughout the previous chapters, I want to conclude this thesis by going
back for a moment to its title. The work and lives of natural winegrowers, as they emerge from
my anthropological analysis, seem to point towards the realisation of a different cosmology, an

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alternative being-in-the-world which is expressed and enacted through wine. Corrado Dottori, a
natural wine producer based in Marche region (central Italy), writes in his latest book that

natural wine is not a kind of wine. It is a countercultural movement. Natural wine is not
a method. It is an ethical and aesthetical attitude […] The real and powerful insurrection
led by natural winegrowers is about the thorough reconsideration of the relationship
between agriculture and industry, city and the countryside, culture and nature, techno-
science and organic life […] The utopia of natural wine consists of human return to
nature (Dottori, 2019: 160; my translation)

By crafting their wines through care and attention towards the multiple agencies inhabiting their
vineyards and cellars, natural winegrowers simultaneously make evident the human-nonhuman
relations that permeate our world and, through consumption, our bodies. Jonathan Nossiter
(2019), director of two films on the world of wine (Mondovino, 2004; Resistenza Naturale, 2014),
argues that the main contribution of the natural wine movement lies in shedding new light on
agriculture and its cultural significance in a historical moment where rural-urban relationships
need to be reinvented to secure the survival of our species. In this sense, natural winegrowing
expresses the potential for changing existing socio-economical structures, systems of production,
and normative frameworks of quality.

The utopian dimension entailed in wine production and consumption, the complex entanglement
between the material and the ideal which has shaped winemaking since its very beginning, has
already been investigated by scholars working on wine (Douglas, 2003; Daynes, 2013; Dutton and
Howland, 2019). I argue that natural wines are no exception in this regard, as they are
contemporary material instances of ideal aspirations which point, as Dottori suggests, at our
conscious reconnection with the non-human surrounding and shaping us. Throughout my thesis I
showed how my female informants embrace the utopian radicality of natural winegrowing and
act as powerful and influential agents of change both a local and global scale. Through their work,
knowledge and spirit of innovation, they originally sit at the interface of nature and culture,
tradition and techno-science, local and global scales. Livia and Margherita try to reconnect the
past, present, and future of their family traditions by actively reconfiguring their gendered role
within a patriarchal family environment, and crafting wines which reflect their own personalities.
Isabella combines her sophisticated technical knowledge with a highly personal interpretation of
her territorio, which has led her to become one of the youngest acclaimed wine producers at an
international level. Her estate represents a vibrant hub where the relationship between the
countryside and the city has taken novel connotations, and new generations of like-minded
winegrowers are formed. Claire, Costanza, and Virginia decided to become natural winegrowers

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in less-known places where they have re-discovered local knowledge and practices while being at
the same time highly reflexive in their engagement with wine. Their critical and distinctive
perspective, supported by their self-confidence and solid background, make them the
representatives of a new way of integrating different knowledge and experiences within a larger
cosmology where wine, life, and work are all entangled. The success of these women, despite
their different stories and life-trajectories, seem to suggest that the alternatives they craft
through their wines are a valid point of reference to engage with the complexities of our time.

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Appendix A

Appendix A Participant information sheet

Participant Information Sheet (Face to Face)

Study Title: Gendered subjectivities in the global hierarchy of values: the


ethnography of “natural” wines in Northern and Southern Italy.

Researcher: Clelia Viecelli Ethics number: 24964

Please read this information carefully before deciding to take part in this
research. If you are happy to participate you will be asked to sign a consent
form.

What is the research about?


My name is Clelia Viecelli. I am a PhD student in Modern Languages at the University
of Southampton (UK). As part of my PhD project, I am conducting an ethnographic
research on the production and consumption of “natural” wines in Italy, in particular
on female “natural” winegrowers. My study revolves around different research
questions, which are divided into three main sections here:
- How do women represent themselves as “natural” winegrowers? How much
does their labour contribute to the construction of their self-identities?
- What is the relationship these female wine producers have with nature? What
is the role played by technology and tradition?
- How do natural wine producers and consumers deploy social media and the
Internet to differentiate their wines from the conventional ones? And how is
their language used to describe their wines, and contest the national and
European legislation on wine matter?
My research project is funded and sponsored by my University.

Why have I been chosen?


[There are two distinct groups of participants. Group A: Italian “natural” winegrowers
and wine producers; group B: professional wine tasters, bloggers, critics, distributors,
consultants, wine fair organisers.]
Group A: you have been chosen to participate to my research project because you
work as 1a “natural” winegrower and wine producer in Italy.
Group B: you have been chosen to participate to my research because you work
within the wine sector.

How can I take part in the research project?


You have to sign the consent form attached to this information sheet.

What will happen to me if I take part?


Group A: you will be asked to discuss together about the production, distribution
and consumption of “natural” wines in Italy. You will be asked to be interviewed by
the researcher. It will be used an audio and/or video recorder when it will be possible
to do so. I will ask you to become friends on Facebook if you are a Facebook user,
and to access your Instagram profile if you have one. Your involvement will last a
more or less extended period of time depending on your availability, from a couple
of hours to several weeks. Within that period of time, I will stay in close contact with
you, observe and share your everyday working and social activities (if possible). A
shorter follow-up can occur after a few months over another period of the year
characterised by different working activities, both in the vineyard and in the cellar.
Group B: you will be asked to discuss together about the production, distribution and
consumption of “natural” wines in Italy. You will be asked to be interviewed by the

PIS version: 1.0


05/01/2017

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Appendix A

researcher. It will be used an audio and/or video recorder when it will be possible to
do so. I will ask you to become friends on Facebook if you are a Facebook user, and
to access your Instagram profile if you have one. Your involvement will last the time
of your interview. All data gathered will be used for academic/research purposes
only.

Are there any benefits in my taking part?


There are no material benefits to you, but your participation will contribute to enrich
my research and to add to the existing body of knowledge.

Are there any risks involved?


There are no specific risks involved in this project, besides the ones that may occur
in everyday life. Keeping confidentiality is addressed in the next section.

Will my participation be confidential?


All data gathered will be used for academic/research purposes only. Personal data
will remain confidential at all times, and may also be disclosed if the participant
provides prior explicit consent. Confidentiality and anonymisation will be assured
through different procedures: names and any problematic identifying information
will be replaced by pseudonyms, vaguer descriptors and replacement terms; the
researcher will dispose carefully of individual confidentiality statements and
information that can reveal participants’ identity; systems of coding will be used
when transcribing audio files; data with any identifying information will be stored in
a password protected computer to which only the researcher has access. The
researcher will follow the University of Southampton Data Protection Policy and
Guidelines. The collection and storage of data gathered by the researcher will comply
with the Data Protection Act 1998.

What happens if I change my mind?


If you change your mind about taking part in this research project at any time during
the process, you have the right to withdraw without giving a reason and without
penalty. You can also ask me to delete completely your data.

What happens if something goes wrong?


In the unlikely case of concern or complaint, you can contact the Chair of the Faculty
Ethics Committee Prof. Denis McManus (email: D.Mcmanus@soton.ac.uk, telephone:
+44 23 8059 3984).

Where can I get more information?


You can either call me on my mobile phone number (+44 7425 986538) or send me
an email to cv1e16@soton.ac.uk at any time.

Thank you.

PIS version: 1.0


05/01/2017

214
Appendix B

Appendix B Consent form

CONSENT FORM (Version: 1.0)


Study title: Gendered subjectivities in the global hierarchy of values: the
ethnography of “natural” wines in Northern and Southern Italy.

Researcher name: Clelia Viecelli


Staff/Student number: 28083113
ERGO reference number: 24964

Please initial the box(es) if you agree with the statement(s):

I have read and understood the participant information sheet (PIS


Version: 1.0 05/01/2017) and have had the opportunity to ask
questions about the study.

I agree to take part in this research project and agree for my data
to be used for the purpose of this study.

I understand my participation is voluntary and I may withdraw at


any time without my legal rights being affected.

I finally understand that if I have any questions about my rights


as a participant in this research, or if I feel that I have been
placed at risk, I may contact Prof. Denis McManus, the Chair of
the Ethics Committee, Faculty of Humanities, University of
Southampton, SO17 1BJ, UK. Email: D.Mcmanus@soton.acuk.

Data Protection
I understand that information collected about me during my participation in this
study will be stored on a password protected computer and that this information will
be used for academic/research purposes only. All files containing any personal data
will be made anonymous.

I certify that I am 18 years or older. I have read the above consent form and I give
consent to participate in the research described in the participant information sheet.

Name of participant (print name)…………………………………………………….

Signature of participant…………………………………………………………...…..

Date……………………………………………………..………………………………….

215
Appendix C

Appendix C Further information about my fieldwork

Time periods of my fieldwork in Piedmont and Sicily (2017-2018):

Pruning season, January 2017: Livia (Piedmont)

Harvesting season, September 2017: Livia, Costanza, Virginia (Piedmont)

Harvesting season, October 2017: Isabella, Claire (Sicily)

Pruning season, January 2018: Livia, Margherita (Piedmont)

Post-pruning season, March 2018: Isabella (Sicily)

Harvesting season, September-October 2018: Livia (Piedmont), Isabella (Sicily)

List of natural wine fairs and events attended during my ethnographic


fieldwork (2017-2018):

• RAW fair in London (March 2017)


• The Natural Wine fair in London (April 2017)
• VinNatur fair in Verona province (April 2017)
• ViniVeri fair in Verona province (April 2017)
• Torino Beve Bene fair in Turin (October 2017)
• Vini di Vignaioli fair in Parma province (November 2017, 2018)
• La Terra Trema fair in Milan (November 2017)
• Vini Corsari in Barolo (December 2017)
• VelierLive event in Parma (February 2018)
• Festival Musica Distesa in Ancona province (July 2018)

217
Appendix D

Appendix D Map of Livia’s network

219
Appendix E

Appendix E Evaluation sheet for wine tasting - ONAV


(Italian Organisation of Wine Tasters)

221
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