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  • German Wines’ Compass Swings North

    For decades, America was indeed the promised land: A vast nation of eager consumers with a low bar for entry. German winemakers were among the throng of sellers vying to win a sliver of Americans’ massive spending power. But times — along with politics and tariffs — have changed. Now, German winemakers are finding that their most loyal and free-spending audience may actually be up north. How Did We Get Here? The public’s perception of German wine is capricious; more so, arguably, than that of any other wine-producing nation. After rising to prominence over the 19th century, German wine suffered…...

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    Book Review: “Mosel Wine”

    We like to think of Mosel wine as eternally glorious. The river valley’s nearly 2,000-year vinous history, its relics of Roman civilization and tributes to Celtic wine gods, its very viticulture carved with seeming permanence into stony banks all suggest an unbroken line. But an excellent new book, edited by Lars Carlberg, with able assistance from David Schildknecht, Kevin Goldberg, and Per Linder, underscores the extent to which the Mosel’s glory has been far more ebb than flow. Such awareness only makes the late 19th-century golden age that is the book’s focus more luminous.  The book nests together several components…....

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  • German Vintners at the Table

    Hans Ruck, 74, is fully at home in front of a stove. The German vintner, of Weingut Ruck in Iphofen, has been a serious chef for five decades, with a healthy stash of self-composed recipes — all harmonized to the wines from his estate at the edge of the Steigerwald in central Franken.  “I’ve never had a beer with a meal in my life,” Ruck claims. “The harmony between food and wine is what truly brings the enjoyment.” Once Ruck gets rolling, it’s hard to stop him. You soon feel like you’re standing at the stove with him, peeking into…...

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    Beethoven as Bacchus

    On the dark morning of March 26, 1827, a heavy snowstorm was falling outside the fogged window panes of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Vienna apartment. Everything was unusually quiet in this space, so customarily filled with music. Beethoven’s house servant walked into the room to announce that a long-awaited shipment of Rheingau Rieslings, wines sent at his behest by his music publisher Schott, had just arrived. Barely able to muster the energy, the composer sat up in his bed, shook his fist in anger, and muttered these very last words: “Pity, pity, it’s too late…”     He sank back into his bed,…...

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