Organic, biodynamic, natural wine: three words, three different worlds

At the counter of any wine shop today, three words make more noise than any appellation: organic, biodynamic, natural. They are often spoken as if they were rungs on the same ladder, from the most lukewarm to the purest. They are not. One is a category defined by law, one is a private trademark with an almost philosophical outlook, and the third is an idea shared by a community but lacking any legal boundary. Confusing them is no grave sin, but it misses the point: each answers a different question.

Organic: a rule written down, and checked

Organic wine is the only one of the three with a legal text behind it. For years Europe recognised only organic grapes: the label read “wine made from organically grown grapes”, because the cellar remained no man’s land. The turning point came with Implementing Regulation (EU) 203/2012, which from the 2012 harvest laid down which winemaking practices were permitted for the wine itself to be called “organic”. Today the overall framework is Regulation (EU) 2018/848, in force since 1 January 2022.

In the vineyard this means no herbicides and no synthetic chemical fertilisers, with copper and sulphur as the main tools of defence, and a three-year conversion period before the grapes can be called organic. In the cellar it means a shorter-than-usual list of permitted substances and certain techniques that are banned, among them partial dealcoholisation, electrodialysis, partial concentration by cold and the physical removal of sulphur dioxide. Heat treatments remain possible, but not above 75 °C, and filtration may not go below a pore size of 0.2 micrometres.

The most frequently quoted figure concerns sulphites. A dry organic red (less than 2 grams per litre of residual sugar) may contain at most 100 milligrams per litre, a dry white or rosé 150; for other wines the ceiling is 30 mg/l lower than the general limits, which for conventional dry wines are 150 and 200 mg/l. All of this is checked by authorised certification bodies under public supervision. Organic, in short, says nothing about taste or style: it guarantees a method, and it is the only one of the three that gives the consumer legal protection.

Biodynamic: an idea with a trademark

Biodynamics was born of the lectures that Rudolf Steiner, the founder of anthroposophy, gave in 1924 at Koberwitz, in what was then German Silesia. The farm is conceived as a closed, self-sufficient organism, and the work follows codified preparations: 500, cow manure fermented in a cow’s horn and spread on the soil, and 501, ground silica sprayed on the leaves, as well as those for compost. Many also follow a calendar that takes account of the phases of the moon.

Here the law stops. There is no European “biodynamic”: there are private trademarks, the best known of which is Demeter (in France, Biodyvin also operates). As a rule these standards presuppose organic certification and add their own rules on top. In the French version of Demeter’s winemaking standard, for example, fermentation must start with indigenous yeasts and total sulphites fall to 70 mg/l for dry reds and 90 for dry whites and rosés; the details can vary from country to country and from revision to revision.

On the scientific front, the evidence that the preparations themselves produce measurable effects is weak and contested. On the practical front, however, biodynamics demands a care for the vineyard, a daily attentiveness and a reduction in inputs that many agronomists consider virtuous in their own right. One can disbelieve in the cow horn and still admire the grower who spends more hours among the rows.

Natural: a manifesto, not a rule

“Natural” is the most powerful word and the most fragile. In Italy there is no legal definition of it, nor at European level; for that very reason, putting it on a label is slippery ground, and many producers prefer to talk about it in person or let the wine fairs do the talking. The gap is filled by associations such as VinNatur or ViniVeri, each with its own charter: broadly speaking, grapes grown without synthetic chemicals, indigenous yeasts, no enzymes, minimal intervention, reduced or no sulphites.

France has tried to give the matter some shape: in 2019 a producers’ union created the private label “Vin méthode nature”, which the authorities approved as a private initiative. It requires organic grapes, hand harvesting, no selected yeasts and, in its strictest version, no added sulphites. It is a step forward in transparency, but it remains a voluntary label, not the definition of a category.

Sulphites and yeasts: where things get concrete

Sulphites are the most misunderstood point. Fermentation produces a small amount on its own, so a truly “sulphite-free” wine is rare: the honest expression is “no added sulphites”. In Europe the statement “contains sulphites” is compulsory above 10 mg/l, and so it appears on the great majority of organic, biodynamic and natural wines too. Sulphur dioxide protects wine from oxidation and unwanted microbes: using less of it is a legitimate choice, but it carries a greater risk, which the producer has to offset with healthy grapes and an impeccable cellar.

Indigenous yeasts, the ones present on the skins and in the cellar environment, are the other banner. They can give more multifaceted wines, more closely tied to their place; they can also lead to slow or stuck fermentations. And this is where the question of faults becomes unavoidable. High volatile acidity, mousiness, Brettanomyces aromas, refermentation in bottle: in low-intervention wines they happen more often than elsewhere. Part of the public has rechristened them “character”, and sometimes that is truly what they are. Other times they are simply mistakes, and no philosophy can make them good.

The right word for each

The problem is none of the three labels, but the way we use them as moral shortcuts. Organic is a minimum, verifiable guarantee, not a seal of quality. Biodynamic is a private pact between a producer and an organisation, with a world view that no one is obliged to share. Natural is a movement that has had the enormous merit of putting the vineyard back at the centre and of shaking up a winemaking culture that had become too corrective, but it cannot claim a superiority that no law certifies.

The advice, if one is really needed, is simple: read these words as information, not as verdicts. A good organic wine and a dreadful natural one can sit on the same shelf, and vice versa. In the end, the only standard that truly counts is the one in the glass.

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