Dan Berger's Varietal Views: Delving into riesling's complex profile
By Dan Berger
NAPA VALLEY, Calif. — People passionate about pinot noir, cabernet, chardonnay or Champagne can become a little unhinged when others do not share their thirst for the best wines of their particular interest.
Fisticuffs rarely break out over such discussions, but I have seen chardonnay-lovers and sauvignon blanc aficionados bristle at each other. And the debates between lovers of Bordeaux and Burgundy have gone on for decades. Such discussions can get rather testy.
Summary
This is the first in a new series on California grape varieties, starting with riesling because of its distinctive qualities.
Discussion of riesling's lesser-known status due to its specific soil and climate requirements, with a focus on noteworthy California rieslings.
Insight into riesling's diverse aroma profile, ranging from applelike freshness to mature notes of petrol.
Highlighting the 2022 Donnhoff Riesling, Trocken, Pfalz, as a notable example, demonstrating riesling's complexity and aging potential.
Interestingly, however, there is one grape variety that seems to have its own unique following, and the support base for this grape consists of people who live above the fray and become amused by those who don’t understand their particular passion. These people often are called riesling freaks, and they don’t mind any intended disparagement.
As we begin a new series to investigate which grape varieties can do well in California and how they compare to other worldwide specimens, we begin with riesling because it elicits some of the most fervent of passions for those who appreciate the esoteric-ness that comes with the best versions. It is a winegrape that some of its fans consider the greatest wine grape of them all.
As riesling takes on bottle age of perhaps only two to four years, other riesling-ish aromas appear, including peaches, mangos, pineapple, kiwi, gooseberry, grapefruit, lime, kumquat and/or chamomile tea!
Such a debate, which cabernet lovers would laugh out loud at, is based on a concept similar to talking about angels on pinheads. Loving specific grape varieties is, after all, a rather mundane topic. But in my experience, some of the most passionate wine lovers of all are the riesling freaks.
You might not know this from their demeanor. Debates on various wine topics can create crochety-ness, but the riesling lover rarely gets bellicose or snooty because this particular love is almost always for the grape that these people perceive to be completely unknown to others.
Love of riesling is like no other
It is accurate to say that riesling is far less well-known than almost any other fine grape variety. One reason for this is that it can only grow and produce great wines in specific soils and with specific climates. Because it is less well-known, it is not likely to be planted in regions where profitability is critical.
Unless a particular plot of ground is well-known to produce great riesling, it is unlikely anyone would grow it. Which is why in California there are probably no more than two dozen rieslings worth talking about, and in Napa Valley there are perhaps eight or 10 versions that have been produced long enough to be called regular go-to classics.
Truly great wine comes into our lives infrequently. And it is here where the descriptions of them begin to sound almost fanciful. Descriptors start by alluding to fruit and later to complexity. Describing great wines is more an art form than a science; occasionally it’s like poetry. This is especially true of riesling.
Of all the grape varieties in the world, riesling displays, almost better than any other variety, where it came from. It is a classic example of a wine with a unique argot.
First come the elements of fruit. At its most basic, it can be simply like fresh or wizened apples, such as the smell you get when you cut open a recently harvested apple of almost any variety. However, that’s only for younger rieslings.
A man I once knew was so fascinated with the apple-y scents in riesling that he differentiated between a Granny Smith and a Pippin. He saw these elements as relating directly to rieslings from unique regions of Germany. Since he traveled there often and spoke German fluently, he was skilled at making such proclamations.
I was a budding riesling lover then and some of his assertions were lost on me, but I recall some of his parallel descriptions in which he tried to separate one apple from another. His name came up at dinner the other night when we talked about his passion for apple-ish elements such as Asian pear and Braeburn.
Some German and Australian rieslings and even some domestic versions, and notably mature versions of New York dry rieslings, can often display something like kerosene, which more genteel-y is spoken of as “petrol.” Some German winemakers hear Americans say they dislike this aroma, so they have taken to saying that the aroma is really that of “toast.”
The petrol in riesling is an acquired taste. I love it in the proper amount. When a riesling has fruit and complexity, the petroleum can be a fascinating added bonus. It’s part of many older rieslings’ complexity.
Some of the best wines in my cellar are mature rieslings that have developed a level of this character that can be seen as a benefit.
This “petrol” aroma is technically TDN, a shortened form of the chemical 1,1,6-trimethyl-1,2-dihydronaphthalene. It is nearly unique to riesling, but it is also found in old Australian sémillon, notably from the warm Hunter Valley north of Sydney. Hunter Valley rieslings are a relatively acquired taste, and because they tend to develop TDN after being aged for a few years, they once were called Hunter Valley riesling.
(A month ago, I got together with nine California winemakers who love trying wines blind to see if they can identify them. One of the bottles I brought to a dinner in Petaluma was a 2003 Brokenwood sémillon, one of the most classic examples of that variety in the world. Served blind to the nine winemakers, eight said the wine was a riesling. The ninth had no idea.)
Another complexing element of riesling that seems to be evident in stylish versions is a kind of steely minerality. When a newcomer smells this for the first time, it can seem a little odd and normally requires a riesling-lover to explain what it is.
One aspect of riesling aroma that is evident in the driest wines (called trocken in Germany) is the aroma of lime, grapefruit or grapefruit rind and other forms of citrus, including lemon, although the wine character seems to be slightly more classic.
As riesling takes on bottle age of perhaps only two to four years, other riesling-ish aromas appear, including peaches, mangos, pineapple, kiwi, gooseberry, grapefruit, lime, kumquat and/or chamomile tea!
Riesling can also produce sweeter wines, all the way into the dessert class. When it does, frequently the aroma includes honey or lemon curd.
This is similar to other elements of complexity that invade other wines, such as the “cat pee” elements in some sauvignon blancs, the “melon” in some chenin blancs, the “faded rose” and “beets” found in some cooler-climate pinot noirs, the “tomato leaf” in Chianti, “dried thyme” found in some cool-climate reds and the “sage” found in some cabernets.
Riesling is rarely aged in oak barrels, which would flavor the wine, so there’s almost never a smoky component. But there occasionally may be a trace of sulfur dioxide, which helps to preserve the wines as they age in a wine cellar. This sulfur-y aromatic typically evaporates in time.
In the United States, riesling is almost always consumed young. That certainly was the case for decades, when what we called “Johannisberg” riesling was being produced here as a sweet wine.
However, the great rieslings of Germany typically are considered by riesling-lovers to be far too young when they are released and should be consumed when they have reached some degree of maturity.
This is true here. Historically, three of the best rieslings in the Napa Valley are better after time in a cellar. They are Smith-Madrone, Stony Hill and Trefethen, all of which are being produced today as dry wines and which always improve with time in a cool cellar.
To be more accurate about the concept of dry riesling, it must be stated that the term “dry” is relative. I’ve tasted white wines that were completely dry, with zero sugar, but the wine tasted slightly sweet because the acidity was low and the pH was high. By contrast, a wine with as much as 2% to 3% residual sugar might taste dry if the acidity is extremely high and the pH is low.
Then there’s the question of how the wine is served. A slightly sweet riesling would taste a little drier if it is served very cold. As you might imagine, extremely dry rieslings taste better at temperatures that are not so cold.
Many of the best rieslings in the United States come from Mendocino County. It was from a tiny appellation (Cole Ranch, 55 acres planted to grapes) that I made a small amount of bone-dry riesling in 2022 that is best served cool. Too cold and the wine simply is too austere for most people, unless they’re eating oysters!
My riesling is called Bahl Fratty, which is Boontling for “great wine.” It might be called the driest riesling ever produced intentionally. Its acid is 9.6 grams per liter, the sugar is zero and the pH is 2.90. I call it a nonsurgical tonsillectomy.
Even the driest rieslings in Germany are sweeter than this, and probably all of them benefit from aging in a wine cellar. My riesling is intended to be best in 10 years.
Prices for German dry rieslings have recently risen. Some of the best are now hard to get even though they sell for $60 to $100. Anything of quality that’s less than $25 is a bargain.
Wine Discovery – 2022 Donnhoff Riesling, Trocken, Pfalz ($24): In this stylish, distinctively aromatic German example the delicate aromas of green apple/lime zest and citrus come together fascinatingly after the wine’s entry on the tongue, as it displays a trace of its sugars. The aftertaste is dry enough to work with seafood. It is best served cool; too cold and it upsets the balance. It should be better in two to four more years. This superb producer makes a wide range of excellent dry-styled rieslings that include several expensive vineyard-designates. Imported by Skurnik,
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Dan Berger has been writing about wine since 1975.
Riesling can be matched with different cuisines, such as Asian, Chinese, and Vietnamese. Wines from the Mosel are a treat with lighter summer fare. Their intensity and complexity shine, especially if comparing wines with different levels of sweetness (e.g. Kabinett and Spatlese).
I’m delighted to have Dan Berger contributing to NVF. He’s been my favorite wine writer for over a decade with his wealth of experience and straight talk.
I’d be curious, as he explores grape varieties, to get Dan’s take on varieties that might do well here as climate warms a bit.
Thanks for all of this!