Orange Wine — the Renaissance of Old School Winemaking
From political outsider through much of the 1930s, to lorded hero, Winston Churchill’s revival is arguably one of the great comebacks in recent centuries.
Now I must caveat immediately that this is not some evangelical patriotic homage to what many consider to be a rather unsavoury man, despite his wartime heroics. But as comebacks go, Winston is up there.
Whilst reasons for being so are far lesser-known, debatably orange wine is the wine world’s answer to Big Winnie. And given his penchant for Champagne, he seems a fitting analogy to draw on for a wine blog.
Although orange wine (or ‘skin contact’ as it may be seen on proper decent gastronomic establishments across the land) is very ‘of a time’ right now, it is in fact a resurgence, rather than an emergence, that has been ignited. Wine of this nature is by no means a nascent innovation. The tradition dates back well over hundreds of years in places such as Georgia and Italy.
In its simplest form, this is white wine (using white grapes, such as Chenin Blanc) made in a similar way to a red wine. The principal marker of importance is the use of skins (hence ‘skin contact’) in the fermentation process. White grapes will usually be subjected to crushing and pressing before fermentation, which removes any influence from the skins. However, skins hold a lot of flavour, colour and tannin. This is the point of difference for an orange wine — skin inclusion (skinclusion…?).
By keeping the skins in contact with the grape juice during fermentation (as you would when making a red wine) you draw out a greater amount of these aforementioned components.
“That’s all very well”, I hear you herald, but why is it now mesmerically captivating the minds of many? (It genuinely is — I, no word of a lie, have been asked about this topic thrice in the past fortnight).
Well, wine of this nature has close ties to the natural winemaking renaissance we have seen in recent times. There is an essence of innovation and counter-norm culture that runs through both movements. Ergo — as natural wines are becoming more prevalent, so skin contact wines also gain notoriety.
Further to this, it has been noted the relative prevalence of orange wines from UK producers. The UK climate being rather cool, this aptly lends itself to the cultivation of aromatic grapes — the category most frequently used in orange wine production. The techniques employed (eg skin contact) amplify the aromatic intensity present, proffering up wines of great opulence.
Not only that, but names that are rapidly developing almost cult-like followings (Tillingham, Westwell) provide even greater awareness of this winemaking. You’d have to ask them specifically about their ethos and approach to wine that no doubt dictates why this route has been pursued, but a general observation is that the UK is less tied to tradition oenologically speaking, allowing for more scope to innovate and disrupt.
And with this greater prevalence also comes greater appreciation of the immense diversity of skin contact wines. Relative to white wines, the greater aromatic intensity gives so much complexity and character. Some even display sweet wine characteristics (and everyone loves a bit of sweetness), but in dry wine format still. It’s like treating yourself without the haranguing guilt of a massive sugar intake.
Personally, I find them to be the perfect aperitif — a slightly meatier offering than a light white wine (yet still fresh af), and by design a better gateway into reds later in the evening. That is if red wine is to your liking…yet another area in which orange wines turn up. The extra body and texture from the skins make them the perfect wines to go with an array of food, yet a great substitute for reds.
Literally the only mark in the con column that some may be deterred by, derives from price. Due to the more arduous process and greater care and delicacy required, you’ll rarely find one for less than £20 ($30) in-store, or £40 ($60) in résto. But don’t let that put you off. They bang, and are well worth the additional coppers.
So without further ado, I give you my favourite orange wines.
Baby Bandito ‘Stay Brave’ 2020, South Africa
The ideal entry point. The grape juice is only in contact with the skins for 10 days, so imparts a very palatable, soft amount of tannin and intensity, making it perfect for those wanting to ease into the OW-craze (that’s not an actual abbreviation, I just made it up…).
Ortega Skin Contact Westwell Wines 2019, England
Hailing from Kent of these very lands, this Ortega grape production epitomises everything that I have reeled off in this post. The layers and depth are unreal, and carry through the aforementioned sweet wine characteristics (honeyed) whilst still being loaded with tantalising acidity.
The Hermit Ram Skin Fermented Sauvignon Blanc 2019, New Zealand
I had the absolute visceral pleasure of enjoying this first hand in Peckham Cellars own establishment just the other week. As mentioned earlier, these wines are great with food. And no truer words written and experienced than in the case of The Hermit Ram and PC. Add to the fact that the food in situ was otherworldly — well, I couldn’t find my mind for the rest of the weekend due to the fact of how blown it was.
But fear not, this will fundamentally taste just as delicious even if you aren’t being served up bib gourmand heaven on a plate.
The Sauvignon Blanc grape in this magical bottle becomes beautifully tropical and occupies every part of the mouth thanks to its punchy texture.
Mother Rock Liquid Skin 2020, South Africa
Another SA Chenin Blanc orange banger. More on the funky side than the earlier Swartland counterpart. But chunky and fresh all at the same time — a real winner for those looking to get more into the natural side.
Orange Keratsuda Libera Estate 2019, Bulgaria
No bank holiday is complete without a high degree of rogueness. And that is precisely when this wine entered my life. We’re going full spectrum here. A full-bodied number from Bulgaria — 45 days on the skins, unfiltered — and in more than one way if you catch my drift.
