Is Authenticity the Wrong Ideal for Wine?

Wine culture loves authenticity. The word appears (or is implied) everywhere. We find it in natural wine, where authenticity means minimal intervention. We find it in terroir talk, where authenticity means fidelity to place. We find it in estate bottling, indigenous grapes, orange wine, amphorae, old vines, family farms, horse-plowed vineyards, and labels with goats, monks, or someone’s great-grandfather standing by a barrel looking severe. The concept does a lot of work. Sometimes authenticity means historical continuity: this is how wine was made before stainless steel, lab yeast, enzymes, micro-oxygenation, and consultants came on the scene. Sometimes it means local identity: this grape belongs here. It speaks the local dialect. Sometimes it means small-scale production, artisanal care, anti-industrial virtue, or the refusal to polish away every oddity. And sometimes it means peasant romance sold at urban prices. The problem is that authenticity has become meaningless because it…