German Whites

Decoding German wine labels can sometimes seem like an awful lot of work. It has, historically, led to quite a bit of consumer confusion and some hesitation in reaching for the wines in preference to, say, a very straightforwardly labelled Aussie option. That’s a real shame: the country’s Rieslings in particular can be some of the most glorious whites in the world of wine.

All the information is there on the label – it just takes a little application. The first word that hits you here is “Dry” (you might see the German equivalent too, “Trocken”). Thank you Dr Loosen. It removes any doubt as to what to expect in the bottle as sweetness levels can be notoriously difficult to predict. Following the producer’s name and the vintage are two rather more gnomic words for which you need to grab your German grammar primer. “Kinheimer” is a genitive form of Kinheim, and in this case indicates “of” Kinheim, a village in the Mosel region of Germany. “Rosenberg” is the name of the individual vineyard around the village. So this is a wine from “Kinheim’s Rosenberg vineyard” which is south-facing, something so important this far north. 

Nicely specific and logical once you’ve cracked the code. At the very bottom, in modest lettering, sits the name of the grape – the noble Riesling, the variety for which the Mosel is especially famous. So there we are: it’s a dry wine from a very specific place in the Mosel made by one of a handful of local producers whose name is synonymous with the quality Rieslings of the area. All this should be more than enough to have you reaching for the cork screw. Dr Loosen’s eminently sensible approach to labelling continues on the back with further useful information: that the grapes were hand-harvested and that the wine underwent natural fermentation in oak followed by 12 months’ ageing on its lees. All of which can affect how the wine tastes and feels in the glass. 

You’ll also find the vineyard described with the words “VDP: Grosse Lage”. This is equivalent to the more familiar French “Grand Cru” demarcation in Burgundy – a term of distinction given to what are considered the highest quality areas in the best vineyards.The formidable and somewhat off-putting complexities of German labelling aside, arguably all you really need to know is that the Loosens have been making wine in the area for a long time, coaxing the noble Riesling from the slate-laden vineyards that hang vertiginously over the Mosel river. The current Loosen at the helm, Ernst, is a hugely charismatic winemaker who is something of a torchbearer for his region’s wines.

This particular Riesling is a very pleasing bright and clear pale straw colour. On the nose there are medium+ aromas of grapefruit, apple, pear and gooseberry. These fruit notes are set against a background of slight spiciness and beeswax warmth that balances the green, citrus austerity beautifully. Behind it all lies the tell-tale Mosel slate minerality and kerosene twang, but its relatively subtle here. As the wine warms in the glass a ghost of a lactic, leesy quality appears to add further complexity. There is a hint of lemon meringue pie richness too which is unexpected – nothing too insistent or un-German mind, but rather nice nonetheless.

There's a surprising amount of weight in the mouth and some chew, as well as sufficient fruit sweetness to make it approachable despite its high acidity. A subtle sweet and sour quality resolves in the long finish into something with a savoury, I’m tempted to say smoky, edge. No Pinotage levels of bonfire here, but a very slight char that I suspect comes from the oak. It’s an interesting alternative to some of the wispier, more ethereal Mosels and really rewards the time you spend with it.

Fifth generation wine makers Emil Bauer (and sons) have beaten a somewhat irreverent path across the winelands of Germany’s Pfalz region of late. With names like Bullshit Grauburgunder and Sex Drugs & Rock ‘n Roll Riesling, you’d be forgiven for thinking that marketing might have overtaken serious winemaking. But you’d be wrong.

Sauvignon Blanc husbandry is, it has to be said, somewhat of a minor concern in Germany. As of 2019, there were only 1,500 hectares given over to the grape with plantings mostly confined to Pfalz, neighbouring Rheinhessen and Baden just to the south (figures, like this wine sample, provided by the good folk of Wines of Germany). With Bordeaux, the Loire and New Zealand providing such iconic expressions of the grape, I was intrigued to see what a Germany winery, and one seemingly unafraid of a bit of iconoclasm to boot, might make of it.

The wine is the palest lemon in the glass, but its delicate and ephemeral looks belie a pronounced, concentrated nose of citrus (lemon juice and grapefruit) and green gooseberry. This is undercut by tones of white blossom and tomato leaf that gesture towards the familiar passionfruit twang of its NZ cousin whilst remaining firmly committed to a northern European model. There is an initial ghost of fruit sweetness on the palate, but this quickly recedes in the face of a driving acidity that beguiles and puckers in equal measure. 

This is an untamed beast compared to, say, Sancerre’s elegant charms – like a wild garden of green berries intertwined with tendrils of rambling honeysuckle, a wild-flower trellis that hides the heavy globes of Pomelo’s bitter fragrance within. Overall, this is a crisp and direct wine, and one that shows a refreshingly different side of Sauvignon Blanc to the intensely perfumed and sometimes blowsy charms of its NZ and Chilean expressions. With a finish on the long side of medium, the wine resolves into powerful citrus with pleasant reverberations of green leafiness. The presence of quite a number of tartrate crystals in the bottle seems to confirm a more natural and less interventionalist approach to winemaking, too.

'Supermarket-own Riesling' is the sort of phrase that seems destined to strike fear into the heart of anyone with even a passing respect for wine (or indeed themselves!). But a moment's reflection will lead you to the realisation that these wines are not made by Bernard from the cheese counter on his day off (nice and briming with goodly cheese knowledge though he may be). They are, of course, made by card-carrying winemakers, some of them very good indeed. Sometimes they are happy to let it be know that they are involved, other times it's a hell of a job tracking down those responsible. In this case, its all nicely out in the open. 

But first the price. I picked this up for just over the £7 mark which is, all things considered, not much. Still not quite sure whether to applaud or cry. Who doesn't like a bargain but what about the margins for the winemaker?! Who, in this case, is Peter Mertes, a rather big name in the Mosel (and the proudly 'award-winning' name on the front label ... although annoyingly just out of view in my pics). And it's really rather better than it should be! 

Good news for us.

Riesling often seems the exclusive domain of the experienced and the knowledgeable. It can seem a closed world and one that is certainly not helped by the complexity of the wine labelling. And that's a real shame as, certainly to my mind, this is one of the world's most fascinating varieties. One that, arguably, finds its greatest expression along the 'steep slopes' of the Mosel river. Riesling can be guided, spun, gently coaxed (and sometimes goaded or even forced) into a myriad of rather extraordinary forms. Dry or sweet, fresh or aged, still or sparkling, juicy, austere, leesy or botrytised. The list goes on. It's perhaps this chameleon complexity, together with lack of familiarity with the terminology, that makes German Riesling in particular seem daunting. That's where wines like this come in.

Good quality, solidly made Riesling at a lower price isn't that easy to find. There are some out there: Dr Loosen's Grey Slate is consistently good and Aldi's Der Komponist Austrian wine makes a fair stab at it. But I think this wine could make an excellent introduction to the grape for those who want to explore. Taken on its own merits, it's a pleasingly fresh, dry, zippy and well-made wine that nods in the direction of the grape's potential. On a second tasting I got a little dissolved CO2, not Vinho Verde levels of spritz but just enough texture to register on the tongue. It's certainly not one of those anonymous varietal wines that really shouldn't be wearing the t-shirt: you can taste Riesling. It's not going to make you laugh, sing, cry or swoon (and yes, Riesling really can be that good) but if you offered someone a glass of this at a yuletide party they'd be more than happy. Especially if you handed them a plate of bao buns or dim sum to go with. I'll warrant that it could stand up to a certain level of spice, too, probably the level of the typical left-over-turkey curry.