As it stands now, almost all Texas winemakers chemically correct their wines. "When people ask me whether or not I acidify my wines," said one of the state's leading winemakers, who spoke on condition of anonymity, "I answer by saying, 'This is Texas.'"

Even in the Texas High Plains in the Panhandle, where cooler temperatures make the AVA the top growing area in the state, the grueling summer heat generally makes acidification of wine a foregone conclusion. Except where Lewis Dickson is concerned.

Dickson — an expat Houstonian — runs the La Cruz de Comal winery, where the criminal defense attorney-turned-"natural" winemaker produces "courageous" bottlings, as writer and natural-wine authority Alice Feiring once told a reporter. It's an entirely different world from the days he spent defending such colorful subjects as cross-dressing "millionaire murderer" Robert Durst (accused of killing and dismembering his Galveston neighbor), Texas politician Tom DeLay (now a convicted felon) and some of Houston's leading drug traffickers while at the notorious Houston law firm of DeGuerin & Dickson.

But in 2001, Dickson turned his back on a jet-set lifestyle that included a full-time suite at the Four Seasons hotel in downtown Houston and began growing grapes and making wine in Starzville — an improbable, however beautiful, backdrop for the production of fine wine. Under the tutelage of legendary Sonoma grower and bottler Tony Coturri, a pioneer in natural winemaking in California, Dickson grows grapes without the use of herbicides or pesticides, and he bottles his wines without the application of pharmaceutical yeasts, acidification or sulfuring — an approach virtually unthinkable for the vast majority of Texas winemakers who employ these techniques liberally.

Although the "natural wine" movement lacks any official doctrine and is splintered into often combative factions, "natural" winemakers are united in their rejection of commercial — as opposed to naturally occurring "ambient" — yeast, acidification and the addition of any other chemicals that will shape the flavor profile and mouthfeel of the wine. And while modern winemaking is virtually impossible without the use of sulfur dioxide (in racking and bottling), natural winemakers strive to use sulfur sparingly. In Dickson's case, he racks and bottles with no sulfur whatsoever. (Sulfur is commonly employed whenever wine is exposed to oxygen before bottling in order to prevent unwanted oxidation and the formation of bacteria that can spoil wine.)

It's the leading Texas wineries that are now finally shifting from the Napa model of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot (traditionally grown in the coastal climate of Bordeaux), and Chardonnay (most famously grown in the cool climate of Burgundy) toward Mediterranean varieties like Italian Vermentino and Aglianico (as in the case of Duchman Family Winery) and grapes grown traditionally in Spain and the Rhône Valley of France (as in the case of McPherson and Becker).

But Dickson attributes his ability to make additive-free wines to the fact that he grows cultivars well suited to the challenges of Texas winemaking.

For his flagship white wine, he uses Blanc du Bois, the same grape as Raymond Haak. It's a hybrid created by University of Florida researchers and first used for commercial wine production in 1987, developed with the intention of providing a variety resistant to Pierce's Disease (Xylella fastidiosa) and its carrier, the glassy-winged sharpshooter, which represent a potentially devastating plague native to the southeastern U.S. Its berries are naturally high in acidity, allowing Dickson to maintain healthy acidity levels in the wine without acidification despite the oppressive heat of the Texas summer.

For a new monovarietal red he plans to release in the future, he will use Black Spanish, a variety grown in Texas since 1889 that's naturally high in acidity and naturally resistant to Pierce's Disease, possibly as the result of spontaneous genetic mutation. The high level of naturally occurring acidity in the must pressed from these grapes, notes Dickson, not only makes it possible to forgo acidification, it also acts as a natural preservative, thus allowing him to bottle without the use of sulfur.

But Dickson's extreme approach to viticulture means that his wines are expensive — around $35 to $40 a bottle retail. And he's not alone in this problem. The few really excellent wines in Texas tend to be somewhat pricey — and that's an issue Texas will continue to struggle with for at least the next decade.
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Beyond Dickson's approach, there are other ways to deliver quality in Texas wine without the crutch of acidification — and without the associated costs that are ultimately passed down to the consumer.

Bronx-born Sicilian-American Paul Bonarrigo, who sources much of the fruit for his Messina Hof winery from the High Plains, has his vineyard managers pick the grapes earlier than most growers. As a result, they are still high in acidity, although low in sugar. For his Texas-grown Chenin Blanc and his Riesling, for example, he arrests fermentation through the use of sophisticated microfilters that remove the active yeast, thus retaining enough sugar to produce "semisweet" expressions of the raw material.