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German Catalog 2006 USE THIS ONE.qxp - Michael Skurnik Wines

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8<br />

Making the Case For <strong>German</strong> <strong>Wines</strong><br />

“Given our enduring attachment to sweet<br />

foods, it seems perverse that sugar in wine<br />

should so often be judged according to fashion,<br />

not flavor. After all, there is no question that<br />

sugar and wine can be highly compatible; wine<br />

is not like meat or mushrooms in this respect.<br />

Moreover, we remain wedded to other forms of<br />

sweet drink, even in circumstances where<br />

dessert wine would never be considered: we<br />

think nothing of serving orange juice with a<br />

cooked breakfast or Coke with a burger, yet at<br />

more than 100g of sugar per liter (TT: in fact a<br />

whopping 116 g.l. in Coke), both these ubiquitous<br />

beverages are as sweet as Sauternes and<br />

three times sweeter than the Riesling Kabinett<br />

most likely to raise the sardonic eyebrow of the<br />

fashion fascist.”<br />

- Alex Hunt, from “The Foundations of Structure<br />

and Texture,” World of Fine Wine, Issue #9<br />

One night returning home to my hotel, I turned off<br />

the car and got out, and heard something I hadn’t heard<br />

in many years. Three nightingales were singing their<br />

dark and eerily beautiful song. Suddenly the world went<br />

silent, and it was the beginning of time. I walked in the<br />

hotel’s garden and listened to the three tiny birds until it<br />

was too cold to stay out longer. Inside, I opened my windows<br />

— they were still singing there in the middle of the<br />

night — and snuggled under the comforter, and let them<br />

sing me to sleep.<br />

And now I’m writing about making the case for<br />

<strong>German</strong> wines. As if they need me to do so; nature makes<br />

the case for <strong>German</strong> wines constantly, with every lark,<br />

thrush or nightingale, every snap and crunch of apple,<br />

every swooningly fragrant linden tree in full blossom,<br />

everything that makes us pause when we are visited by<br />

the electric hum of the world. <strong>German</strong> wine is a small<br />

bird that sings in the darkness, a seemingly minute<br />

thing that can tingle your pores, and haunt you your<br />

entire life.<br />

We who love <strong>German</strong> Riesling love it with abiding<br />

delight and passion, but we who sell it have confronted a<br />

variety of challenges over the years. Happily these are<br />

starting to melt away. The mainstream is still out of<br />

reach, luckily, but nearly all of you tell me it’s possible to<br />

sell <strong>German</strong> wine again.<br />

Fashion warps and woofs just like hemlines rising<br />

and falling, but I’d like to establish some durable and<br />

cogent argument for these uniquely lovely wines. Because<br />

I want them to survive. Even now, <strong>German</strong> wine isn’t what<br />

most people think it is. It isn’t even what many <strong>German</strong>s<br />

seem to think it is. Of course I am uniquely gifted with<br />

knowing precisely what it is, thanks very much. And I<br />

have only the teensiest little delusions of grandeur . . . .<br />

Riesling isn’t what most people think it is. Riesling is in<br />

essence not fruity but rather mineral. Fruit, when present, is<br />

woven and stitched into a mineral skeleto-nervous system.<br />

It is not the other way around, as many people presume.<br />

Guys like me who like mineral (others call us “rockheads”,<br />

a term I’m quite willing to embrace!) often<br />

assume you know exactly what we mean. But maybe you<br />

don’t. I’ll try to clarify.<br />

The first thing to know is that some version of this<br />

metaphorical idea comes to most wine drinkers spontaneously<br />

at some point or other. I remember back in 1988<br />

when I first tasted with Bob Parker and Bob said about<br />

one wine This tastes like crushed rocks, and in those days<br />

he often used the term “wet stones” to depict what we<br />

call minerality. It is a flavor of considerable expression —<br />

it is quite distinctly there in the wine — but it isn’t fruit.<br />

Stones at Weingart in the Mittelrhein.<br />

Nor is it acidity, nor does it relate to acidity. There’s a prevailing<br />

critique that we rockheads use “mineral” to<br />

excuse underripe wines, but this is manifestly false.<br />

There are many wines of gushingly lavish flavor but<br />

whose flavor isn’t delivered on waves of fruitiness, but<br />

rather on mineral.<br />

There are wines you could swear had rocks passed<br />

through them, or which sat on a bed of rocks at the bottom<br />

of the tank or cask. Other “mineral” wines show a<br />

more inferential, pebbly profile, while still others seem as

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