Orange wine, with its origins tracing back to ancient Georgia and traditional methods of winemaking, has been embraced by enthusiasts seeking authenticity and a deeper connection to terroir. Yet, what started as a genuine exploration into low-intervention winemaking seems to have morphed into a somewhat cult-like obsession—one that celebrates wines with peculiar qualities often perceived as faults.

In recent experiences, I found myself persuaded to try these unconventional wines by sommeliers with distinctly expressive appearances, who brought an air of both conviction and challenge. These wines often appear alongside avant-garde dishes served in trendy umbra-lit settings, presenting themselves with bravado despite occasionally evoking memories of unrefined flavors like barnyard odors, which can make for an uninviting tasting experience.

The pursuit of orange wine can feel like an elaborate façade hiding the reality that many choose to reject crucial elements of traditional winemaking, such as filtration and stability. This cavalier attitude transforms murkiness into a misguided badge of honor, undermining the essence of what wine can and should be.

True wine is an art form—refined through centuries, shaped by the soil and the sunlight, translating humanity’s dedication into something celebrated. It stands as a testament to the brilliance of tradition, where each craft, overseen by skilled winemakers, contributes to a rich culture of flavors, aromas, and experiences.

Natural wines, by contrast, often lack the ability to complement food harmoniously. Their erratic nature defies pairing conventions, leading to unpredictable tasting experiences that can detract from cherished culinary moments. A wine’s purpose extends beyond its individual quality; it is ideally crafted to enhance the dining experience, complementing meals and improving with them.

In the realm of natural wines, flaws are often romanticized as expressive characteristics: volatile acidity, and oxidation which would normally signal failure are glorified as stamps of authenticity. This analogy doesn’t hold; labeling poor qualities as unique failings is akin to misnaming things that do not merit such reverence.

Wine, in its essence, should elevate the experience of drinking, not assault the senses with overpowering or displeasing flavors. The reality is, there is no honor in the sensory devastation akin to being assaulted by an unfortunate flavor.

Instead of perpetuating a cycle of unbearable experimentation, the focus should shift toward celebrating and protecting the essence of quality wine. This is not an elitist stance but rather a recognition and respect for the dedication that has shaped winemaking into what it is today.

So the next time you find yourself offered an orange wine—a concoction that might remind you of silage—keep in mind that this celebration of imperfect taste may not warrant your appreciation. Sometimes, it deserves a place of forgotten memory instead.