It’s fun travelling through the vineyards in this part of the world because, despite a recent consolidation of holdings, parcels can still be quite small. Each is discretely but clearly signposted with the name of the vineyard owner, so to walk around Wehlener Sonnenuhr, for example, is to see a roll call of famous names: J.J. Prüm, S.A. Prüm, Willi Schafer, and so on. Joy for the wine geek.

From a vintage that yielded fuller wines comes this rather buxom Spätlese from Graach-based producer Willi Schaefer. Despite a striking richness of fruit, this has more than a whiff of Wehlener Sonnenuhr minerality, chiselling both nose and palate with angles of slate and savouriness. Fruit is very much in a tropical spectrum, with mango and paw paw alongside tauter notes of citrus and orange blossom. This requires a good deal of balancing acid in the mouth, and this wine’s particular trick is that it constantly threatens to spill out of its dress while never quite doing so. Mineral flavours are key — shapewear to the fruit’s love handles — consistently pulling the wine back into some semblance of line.

This is rather rich for a Spätlese and I wouldn’t be surprised if the fruit that went into it could have been classified riper. While I can certainly appreciate the flavours and generosity on offer, my personal tastes lean towards a tauter line with, perhaps, a bit more acid and texture. Still, undeniably sophisticated and delicious.

Willi Schaefer
Price: N/A
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

There’s an exuberance to some Riesling styles of which one should quickly take advantage. Then there’s this sort of Riesling, one that screams to be left alone for a while and, if forced out of its bottle now, will kick and scream its way into your mouth. In fact, the bottle I had last night was pretty much all arms and legs, gangly to the point of awkwardness. Yet the components are there and, even during the course of our all-too-brief encounter, it improved considerably.

As I suggested at some length in my note on the 2008 edition, this is a wine style that succeeds or fails on its fine balance, as well as on the tension between lusciousness of fruit and taut minerality. While the 2012 is a bit awkward on entry, clumsy on its mid-palate transition and strident through its after palate, it’s clearly a wine of inherent balance and exciting contrasts. There’s an impactful thrust of almost tropical fruit at the front of the palate, enlivened by a hint of CO₂ spritz. This fullness is abruptly whisked away from the mid-palate onwards by a searing cut of finely textured acid. This end of the wine fascinates me most. A streak of savoury minerality (accompanied for now by a noticeable whiff of sulfur) is inseparable from fine phenolics and even, bubbly acid. Granted, this textural component isn’t yet fully integrated with the wine’s fruit and residual sugar swell, but I’m sure it will come together with some time.

Awkward for now. Still, a delicious wine and one that promises so much down the track.

J.J. Prüm
Price: $96
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

A tale of three Rieslings, several digressions and a good deal of tension.

Palate memory, for those of us not blessed with fantastically good recall to start with, can be frustratingly unreliable. For me, writing about wine functions primarily as a sort of personal aide-mémoire, a way to record previous experiences and subsequently recall, as much as possible, the experience of a particular wine. Words, though, are only so rich a medium, which perhaps explains why we sometimes overreach with increasingly obscure descriptors to differentiate one wine from another. Point scoring, too, can be another way of adding semantic richness to a note. Indeed, one’s perhaps feeble attempts to capture something as abstract as wine starts to make sense of, for example, Proust’s extreme longueurs in describing flowers, social behaviours and the experience of jealousy.

Given all that, it’s gratifying to encounter a wine and have it taste so familiar. Such was my experience of this Joh. Jos. Prüm Spätlese from the racy, high-acid 2008 Mosel vintage. As Mosel Riesling goes, this is right in the zone, showing the striking minerality and structural finesse I associate with a good Wehlener Sonnenuhr. Flavours are light yet rich, moving between high toned florals and richer cumquat notes. Naturally, this lacks the impact and weight of some auslese-level wines but is utterly correct and delicious nonetheless.

I tasted this wine, and those discussed below, with wine writer Jeremy Pringle. As ever when we taste together, the semiotics of wine appreciation became a topic of conversation, in this case idea of balance versus tension. I feel the J.J. Prüm shows great balance, even if tilted towards a firmer-than-usual line of acid. Jeremy chimed in with the word tension and, while I agree with his assessment of the wine, it does call into question the relationship between these two dimensions.

In a recent post on his site, Jeremy drew a distinction between the two, suggesting balance doesn’t necessarily connote the excitement that some wines generate through the interplay of their elements. Whether he is suggesting that tension, by definition, requires a subversion of balance I’m not sure. My own view is they can coexist; tension can be generated entirely within the context of a perfectly balanced wine, as with the J.J. Prüm, whose gorgeously proportioned acid structure acts as an ongoing counterpoint to the wine’s other elements. This interplay is thrilling and full of tension, as in a freeze-frame whose compositional elements are dynamic yet perfectly placed with respect to one another. It’s the character of each component, and indeed the countenance struck between them, that builds tension. This, within a wine whose balance and proportion are classically formed, whose sense of placement and symmetry are quite pristine. In this, ideas of tension in wine aren’t unrelated to those in the visual and plastic arts.

Two wines tasted alongside the J.J. Prüm amply illustrate this. A conceptual counterpoint, if nothing else, the 2012 Timo Mayer “Dr Mayer” Remstal Riesling Kabinett trocken is, unsurprisingly, of a drier persuasion than the J.J. Prüm. It’s also, structurally, quite different. Phenolics play a big role here, creating textural waves through the after palate and finish, tightening the wine’s moderately relaxed structure. Its relative lack of acid sits in stark contrast to the J.J. Prüm and, tasting them side by side, I couldn’t help but feel the Mosel wine’s even line was in all respects preferable to the Mayer’s undulating palate structure. This is an example of a wine with contrasting elements — acid and phenolics — whose lack of balance robs the wine of tension. Because there’s no unifying proportion at work, one half of the wine simply exists with respect to the other half, without sufficient connection.

Similarly the 2010 Mac Forbes Tasmanian RS20 Riesling. If the Mosel wine’s acid is high even by its own region’s standards, then this takes it several steps further, placing an even but searingly firm line at the centre of the wine and tilting its balance too far in one direction. Unlike the J.J. Prüm, this wine’s uneven proportions drain it of tension, because one element dominates all others. If a sense of precariousness can, at times, build excitement in a wine, this disqualifies itself because there’s never any question acid will end, as it starts, in first place.

All of which brings me back to the Mosel wine. The secret of great Mosel Riesling is, I believe, the interplay of acid, fruit weight, flavour profile, minerality and structure; this is true of most wines but for Mosel Riesling the balance struck between all these elements seems unlikely, almost magically achieved. Tasting the J.J. Prüm made me think back to a moment towards the end of harvest last year. I was picking grapes in terrible weather — cold, wet, foggy — in Wehlener Sonnenuhr, just wanting it to be over. It occurred to me that all this effort simply wasn’t worth it for something as frivolous, as unnecessary as wine.

And perhaps it’s not. But if one’s going to make the effort, a good Mosel Riesling isn’t a bad place to end up.

J.J. Prüm
Price: N/A
Closure: Cork
Source: Gift

I could enjoy writing up German wines almost entirely because of their wonderfully extended names. This wine, from Mosel-based producer Joh. Jos. Christoffel Erben, is a dry Riesling made from Ürzig Würzgarten fruit. Because I was located in Wehlen during the 2013 vintage, my tasting naturally focused on wines from the Wehlener Sonnenuhr, Graacher Domprobst and Graacher Himmelreich vineyards. I never made it around the bend to Ürzig, which is a shame because its wines carry a reputation and I would have liked to have gotten to know the area. There’s always next time, I suppose.

In the meantime, I can at least taste the wines. The nose is showing some age at this stage, with a hint of harsh kerosene over dominant notes of preserved lemon and minerals. This wine smells cold and chiselled, not precise so much as hard and masculine. I really like the depth of minerality on the nose, although I do feel it’s quite unyielding too. In the mouth, a fairly dry experience with phenolics bringing up the rear and adding plenty of texture. Flavours remain in the sour lemon, mineral and toast spectrum. Acid is quite prominent and combines with the wine’s dry extract to create a powdery mid- and after-palate. Reasonable length.

What’s here seems correct for the style, and it’s definitely showing signs of age without any sense of tiredness. I do wish for a bit less affront, though; there’s precious little fruit weight to dig into, and the wine rests mostly on its austerity and angles. One for purists.

Joh. Jos. Christoffel Erben
Price: N/A
Closure: Stelvin
Source: Gift

Harvest ended with somewhat of a whimper in the Mosel. For me, straddling both vineyard and cellar, the end of picking simply meant more cellar work, less physically demanding but no less interesting. It’s a monumental achievement, though, when the last of the fruit comes in, especially in a year like 2013, which was in many respects a race against a steady, weather-induced loss of grapes from the vines. We celebrated en masse at a wonderful dinner hosted by Weingut Kerpen, with plenty of great estate wines and hearty German food.

A few days later, I dined again with Martin Kerpen, this time at an astonishing restaurant in Zeltingen-Rachtig, a couple of kilometres from Wehlen. The Zeltinger Hof is somewhat legendary in the area, not least for its selection of well over a hundred and fifty wines by the glass. Bottles line the walls and represent a list that, I imagine, is unparalleled when it comes to wines of the region. It’s the kind of list people travel for and its context — a humble hotel restaurant in a small wine village — might strike some as unlikely.

The travel journalist Jacob Strobel y Serra caused a minor sensation recently when he wrote scathingly of the Mosel as a backward-facing tourist destination, lacking the sorts of modern attractions demanded by today’s traveller. While this has stirred debate within the region, it has also prompted many restauranteurs to feature Moselochsen on their menus, Serra having accused the region’s inhabitants of an attitudinal similarity to the lumbering, narrowsighted Mosel ox.

For me, a menu of schnitzel and Moselochsen sounds like a piece of heaven, and it’s true the Mosel seems free of the sort of ultra-high end tourism experiences that can, for better or worse, transform a region’s appeal. As such, it’s terribly easy to get a good, cheap meal at many of the villages that dot the river. At the Zeltinger Hof, Martin and I ordered a menu with Moselochsen at its centre, and the proprietor provided two wines to match. One was a Mosel Spätburgunder with considerably more structure than I’m accustomed to, the other was this Riesling from Wehlener Sonnenuhr, old but by no means ancient as wines of this region go.

It amazes me how the Rieslings of the Mosel are used as food pairings locally. A plate of slow-cooked red meat with a rich, sweet jus cries out for a big red wine. Or does it? Of the two wines paired, the Riesling was by some considerable margin the more attractive match. The wine itself was excellent. A curious thing happens to Mosel Riesling as it ages. Unlike, say, a Clare Riesling, whose flavours typically move through honey and toast, Mosel wines seem to deepen without such sudden, radical changes in flavour. This Auslese is caressingly gentle on the nose, with aromas of vanilla, lemon curd, butter and minerals. It perhaps lacks a degree of refinement, like a stuffed toy just starting to come apart at the seams, but one forgives older wines these flaws more easily than younger ones.

In the mouth, it shows the slippery texture that graces older Mosel wines, a texture that strikes me as not unlike Hunter Semillon. It’s the mid-palate, though, that allows this wine to pair so well with rich, meaty food. There’s still good body and sweetness here, age adding richness to its flavours and matching its impact to the sweet jus of the Moselochsen. Good length, intensity and complexity. Again, this lacks the sort of precision and refinement of a truly superior Riesling, but in the context of this meal, it was nigh on perfect.

Cardinal Cusanus Stiftswein
Price: N/A
Closure: Cork
Source: Retail

The last two days have seen wonderful visits to Weingut Kerpen by friends of mine: Chris Thomas, winemaker at Dowie Doole in McLaren Vale, and Jimi Lienert, with whom I worked in New Zealand at Terra Sancta. On both occasions, Martin Kerpen generously opened many bottles for us to taste, so I enjoyed the good fortune of sampling a range of Kerpen wines from the last three decades.

To single out one wine seems a little pointless, as the interest in such wide ranging tastings lies in understanding the diversity and flavour development within the style. However, I felt one wine above all others was dripping with beauty and quality — this 1995 Auslese ***.

There’s a big jump between Spätlese to Auslese, and within the latter quality level a wide range of permissible ripeness levels. This wine, a three star Auslese, is at the top of the ripeness scale, a fact abundantly evident in the richness and power of its flavours. It simply screams from the glass, not in the strident manner of a young, dry Riesling, but in the buxom style of a deeply fruited wine, layers of rich fruit aroma emerging from the glass. There’s a good deal of flavour development, but this doesn’t read as an especially old wine; rather, its primary fruit smells burnished, high toned edges having been replaced with golden, glowing hues.

In the mouth, an exceptionally long wine. This is probably carrying a ridiculously high level of residual sugar (by Australian Riesling standards, anyway) but it’s taut and clean, balancing powerful fruit at the front of the palate with refreshing, fine acid at the rear. What one gets at these higher ripeness levels is more power and complexity, and this seems to me quite remarkable for the amount of fruit that is packed into what never seems an especially sweet or dessert-like wine. Line and length are impeccable, as is balance, so critical with this style. On the basis of tasting much older wines from this estate and vineyard, I’m sure many more years could accrue without detriment, but I think it’s fabulous right now. I hope Martin will sell me some from his cellar.

Note: I’m currently working the vintage with Weingut Kerpen.

Weingut Kerpen
Price: N/A
Closure: Cork
Source: Gift

A year in the Mosel that was at first celebrated for its richness and power, then reviled for its perceived lack of longevity, and now one that is experiencing a certain positive reassessment. How much we put our beloved wines through. While I understand the human impulse to categorise and build hierarchies, I’m coming to believe wine is an object quite unamenable to such endeavours. For all the effort that goes into “assessing” each vintage, not all of which is wasted by any means, what matters is how a wine tastes at various points in its life.

Clearly, this wine is connected to its vintage. At ten years of age, it remains a powerful, bold wine of strikingly rich flavour and somewhat blocky palate structure. It’s far from nearing the end of its life; I’d say it’s at a point of some flavour development but isn’t yet showing many flavours I think of as indicating full maturity. So, there’s a mixture of primary fruit on the aroma — rich mandarin, flowers — and tertiary characters like honey and toast. This is clearly the product of ripe fruit with plenty to give. As with so many Rieslings from this area, relatively high levels of sugar disappear into the fabric of the wine’s acid and minerality, making it both fresh and low in alcohol.

The palate is mouthfilling and generous, with more ripe citrus, mineral and honey notes. Granted, this is a bigger wine than many others I’ve tasted at this quality level from this vineyard, but the elements are in balance. Good length, good acid and plenty of flavour both primary and developed. As it stands, this strikes me as a wine that could lend support to several views of 2003 – praise for its fullness of flavour, criticism for its scale and relative masculinity. And to that I say: “who cares?” What matters to me is that it tasted damn good last night.

Note: I’m currently working the vintage with Weingut Kerpen.

Weingut Kerpen
Price: N/A
Closure: Vino-Lok
Source: Gift

Ah, German wine labels; uniquely intimidating. The key to this one, though, is “trocken,” or dry. For a region associated in the Australian mind with sweet Rieslings, the Mosel churns out a fair few dry versions of its signature variety and I’m especially keen, while working here, to taste as many as I can.

My vintage hosts in the Mosel are the kind folks at Weingut Kerpen (a disclaimer in addition to a hopefully-interesting factoid). Martin Kerpen, the proprietor, excitedly called me over after a tasting this evening and shared this particular wine with me. A bottle from his private cellar, this shows the benefit of its glass stopper and cool conditions; it’s in exceptional condition. And what a lovely wine too.

I keep coming back to the word “pretty” when tasting this. It has a delicate charisma running right through its refined body, and this plays out through its flavours, which are bright and delicate, and its structure, which is firm and fine. Only the first signs of toasty development are evident on the aroma, which is composed primarily of citrus blossom, talc and a hint of cumquat juice. Absolutely no kerosene here.

The palate is intensely flavoured within the confines of a fundamentally delicate wine. The acid is spectacular in its finesse and balance. A hint of sweetness fills out the juicy mid-palate, but the wine finishes dry and its flavours don’t read as overtly sweet. I suspect this will develop for several years yet, and I envy those with a few bottles in their cellar.

Weingut Kerpen
Price: N/A
Closure: Vino-Lok
Source: Gift