ONLY NATURAL

Sommelier Honey Spencer has devoted herself to lowintervention wines. Allow her to explain why you should, too

Ican still remember the first time I tried a ‘natural’ wine, back in 2011 when I was a freshly qualified sommelier, on a second date with a flirty lad from work. We ordered two glasses of Merlot at a wine bar in Soho: familiar and comforting with a cascade of brambly fruits that gave way to a pinch of white pepper. The date was going well, so two more glasses, please. But what is this? Taut, with a slight fizz and spiky red fruits. I jolt. Surely this is a different wine. The waiter assures me it is the same. Apparently, we had the last two glasses from the previous bottle, and this is a fresh one. ‘It’s a natural wine,’ she declares, ‘it behaves differently sometimes.’

Until that moment, understanding wine had been a delicious formula to follow. Roses with a whiff of tar must be Nebbiolo from Piedmont; buttery brioche and lemons left in the sun is Californian Chardonnay, no doubt. But this style of wine — ever-changing and enigmatic — had frustratingly human traits. I couldn’t get it out of my head. Worse yet, I couldn’t find anyone who could actually explain what on earth it was or how to work with it. Natural wine was developing a bad rep in some corners of town, while others were embracing it. I had tasted bottles with bedazzling purity and others that were too sour, too funky, and smelled too much like my grandad’s farm.

Eventually, the flirty guy from work and I got hitched, quit our jobs and went travelling. We decided to go straight to the source: Copenhagen. Noma was the gastronomic talk of the universe, and they were pouring exclusively natural wine — and getting away with it. From there, I threw myself in, running natural wine bars, working with importers and eventually travelling to Australia, then Noma in Mexico with my husband.

When I returned to London years later, I presumed natural wine would still be at odds with the rest of the wine world. How wrong I was. London, its sommeliers and its drinkers had grown up. Now, it seems we are approaching a vinous summit. If you’d like a head start, here is everything you need to know.

Yes, there is such a thing as too much funk. Wine not manure, per favore.

Soon, all wines entering the UK will have to be labelled with the name of the importer (thanks, Brexit), which means if you like a wine sourced by a particular importer, you can find other bottles you’ll vibe with by checking the label.

Wine should not smell like a rotting forest, or a scene from True Detective. If you are smelling wet bark and can only taste alcohol, then the wine is corked and you have the right to return it.

Sediment happens. If it’s too much for you, ask your server to filter it out or do it yourself at home with a cheesecloth.

Some of the purest natural wines are from Spain. Search for Dani Landi in Sierra de Gredos, Bodegas Tamerán in Gran Canaria or Alberto Orte in Galicia.

If you like a bit more sass in your glass, head for Austria’s Burgenland or Styria regions, Australia’s Basket Range or France’s Ardèche or Auvergne.

A great place to learn more about what you like is The Mulwray, where I co-curate the wine list. We organise ours according to how ‘natural’ each bottle is across categories such as Firm Favourites, which are organic or biodynamic but relatively safe, The Path Less Trodden, filled with regions, varieties and flavours that are a bit off the beaten track, and Wild + Free — you guessed it, the wild stuff.

The 10 Cases in Covent Garden seamlessly blends classic naturals with the more esoteric, all in a timeless setting.

South Londoners, you are lucky to have Veraison Wines, recently opened in Camberwell, and Naughty Piglets in Brixton.

Remember: bad wine is bad wine. Servers should be able to find you the perfect bottle for your tastes just from a brief conversation and assessment of your palate.

Online retailers Good Wine x Good People and The Sourcing Table are worth getting to know for their personal touches.

Decent bottles start at £15, good ones begin between £20 and £25. Not cheap, but worth it for the reduced hangover and that do-gooder glow.

NB, on ageing natural wine. As with classic styles, hunt for the holy trio: acid, structure and fruit. I’m placing whites from the Jura, Cru Beaujolais and reds from Emilia-Romagna in my cellar.

Red should never, ever be served at room temp. Aim for 16 degrees max — or just whack in the fridge for 10 minutes ahead of opening to bring vitality and focus to your pours.

No, your wine doesn’t taste like cider. Thank you, next.