From 98% to 15%: Why This Italian Wine Shop No Longer Buys Natural Wine

Mariga is a tiny shop with two chalkboards and a long table—and shelves and shelves of wine. It is virtually unknown to the world—unless you live in Bassano del Grappa, Veneto, Italy.

It’s the kind of place that you wouldn’t find unless someone showed you. Unless they walked you across the old bridge, guided you a sharp left at the kissing statue, and down a slight slope toward the river. There, you’ll find an unassuming wooden door hiding an even deeper wooden staircase. Below, there is no cell service.

Within these walls, you won’t find trendy merch or bespoke neon signs or €14 jars of fermented vegetables.

Mariga is the kind of place that I thought only existed in the movies: the local watering hole, unpretentious yet effortlessly cool, with dark wooden beams and a Murano glass chandelier. Instead, you recognize it as the blueprint. It’s where you have birthdays and send-offs, first meets, and meet-cutes. It’s where I’m slowly integrating into a town that doesn’t owe me anything, but welcomes with the clink of glass and the sound of a cork all the same.

The first time I went to Mariga, I asked about natural wines in a way that couldn’t help but reveal my Americanness—with blinders on, eager for the ease of a label, searching for the section of a menu clearly indicated for my tastes. Years later, I’ve learned that Mariga isn’t a place you go with strict parameters. You go to try whatever bottle has just been opened, to ask what your friend is drinking, and to trust that you’ll have a pour of something good. Probably two.

Even still, I was recently interested to learn that Mariga’s owner, Giancarlo Baron, had prioritized natural wines when he first opened the bar with his wife, Rosy, 16 years ago. But it wouldn’t be considered “the natural wine bar” in town today. I was curious about this shift. Was it personal?Was it professional?

And what does Giancarlo’s experience reveal about the way natural wine is perceived, and received, in Italy at this point in time?

His answers surprised me.

“Whoever walks in here—it could be the Pope, it could be Renzo Rosso, it could be a factory worker—everyone is treated exactly the same.”

What does the natural wine world look like to you? How have you seen it change?