Organic Wine and Why I Keep Tipping it Out
I want to like organic wine. Truly. I respect the intent—fewer chemicals, better land practices, a return to ‘authentic’ winemaking. It’s hard to argue with that on paper. But every time I open a bottle and pour a glass, I’m left with a feeling somewhere between buyer’s remorse and mild betrayal.
Let’s call it what it often is: Ribena for adults. Under-acidic, over-expressive fruit juice that lacks the balance, depth, or soul that makes wine… wine.
Take Tamberlaine, for example—a label I’ve enjoyed from the Hunter Valley. Solid wines. But as they’ve leaned harder into organic winemaking, the results (at least in the bottle) have started to slide. I can’t say with certainty that the two are directly connected, but it’s hard to ignore the correlation: the more virtuous the label, the more underwhelming the pour.
And that’s the thing. The category sells itself on principle, not performance. It feels less like a wine you drink and more like a statement you make. Meanwhile, my palate is sitting there wondering what happened to the structure, to the tannin, to the intrigue. Where’s the finish? Where’s the reward?
Let’s Talk Taste
Here’s my taste baseline: I want a wine that knows what it is and isn’t afraid to own it.
Central Otago Pinot that walks the line between silky and serious.
A Châteauneuf-du-Pape that smells like a dusty cellar in the best way.
Torbreck GSMs and Rockford Basket Press—Barossa wines that swagger without shouting.
Lake’s Folly Cabernet with a backbone you can build a dinner around.
So when I crack into an organic bottle and get hit with soft red fruit, a watery middle, and a finish that disappears faster than my faith in it—it’s a letdown. Again and again.
Natural, Biodynamic, Organic… Help?
To be fair, not all “organic” wines are created equal. There’s a blurry Venn diagram between organic, natural, and biodynamic wines. Each has its own set of rules, some stricter than others. And while the intention is purity and sustainability, the result in the glass often veers into unpredictable, unbalanced, or just plain weird.
I get that unpredictability can be part of the charm. I just don’t think that makes it good.
An Honest Plea
This isn’t snobbery—it’s frustration. I keep trying. I want someone to change my mind. But right now, when I see “organic” on the label, I brace myself for disappointment. I don’t think I’m wrong to want more from a category that asks for a premium based on principle.
So here’s my open call: recommend me a bottle. Show me the organic wine that actually sings. That balances ethics with excellence. That doesn’t taste like a philosophy project gone sideways.
Because until then, I’ll keep pouring it out… and pouring myself something better.