How to drink wine #3: Riesling
Not being from wine country, the first vineyards I remember seeing were on the steep banks of the Rhine in Germany as a kid. It would be years until I enjoyed a teutonic wine but it was worth the wait. Grüner Veltliner — common in Austria and frequently grown with Riesling — also takes me back to one of my favourite places in the world: the green slopes of the Vienna woods. So, as a Germano-Austrophile, these central European white wines appeal to me.
Riesling has been called a “terroir magnifier” (there must be a great German word for that), meaning that the wine is massively influenced by the grapes’ terroir: the soil, the climate, and so on. German Rieslings are typically acidic with tree fruit notes. They can be dry and sweet.
A recent bottle of Riesling went down extremely well in the M-H household, so well that we bought another and put it in the cellar. Riesling ages very well and can develop a “petrol” character over time which sounds disgusting but is apparently great. I will know in a few years when I open it.
Riesling stands up well to strong flavours in food and so it is worth having a bottle handy when you eat Asian food. Maybe it’s the German thing, but good Rieslings can be found for a few quid in Aldi and Lidl. This 2018 Piesporter Goldtröpfchen was full of tree notes: apple, pear, and peaches.
The best thing about it — and here is that terroir magnifier again —is that when you drink it you are transported via a magical wine genie to the Mosel valley. There you find yourself, drinking a Riesling, watching the Mosel wind its way to the Rhine, a ruined castle behind you, the sun setting behind the slopes of a vineyard, the aftertaste of a venison ragu sitting warmly on the palette.
So here’s the bottom line: not all good European wines are from the south. Go German.
