PIWI’s Big Wine Adventure
Trink Magazine | Are PIWIs or grape hybrids our viticultural future as the climate crisis makes winegrowing more, not less, challenging? By Christoph Raffelt
Get to Know: Rennersistas
This article is an excerpted chapter from We Don’t Want Any Crap in Our Wine (2019). After the book went to print, the Rennersistas informed the author that Susanne Renner left the winery, which will now be run by siblings Stefanie and Georg. In 2015, Susanne and Stefanie Renner took over the family wine business in Gols, Austria and became their parents’ bosses. In short order, the sisters converted to biodynamics and created their own line of wines, Rennersistas, in addition to the family’s traditional red Renner cuvées. Ever since, Susanne and Stefanie have reveled in the freedom of making…...
The Future of Swiss Wine
A new wave of vignerons is gathering strength in Swiss wineries. They are young, eclectic, and often organic or biodynamic in their work. Most are keenly focused on sustainability and trying disease-resistant grapes. Thirty of them, who go by JSNW (Junge Schweiz Neue Winzer, or Young Switzerland New Vignerons), offer a snapshot of this generation, all under age 40. The association was created in 2010 in Zurich to put “sharing” in boldface: of experience and ideas, but most of all of their wines and feedback, at regular meetups. The group has expanded to include vignerons from the French- and Italian-speaking…...
A Remembrance of German Wines Past
My twenty-something self left two gifts for the older man I would become: a doctorate in applied mathematics and four small, looseleaf notebooks. The degree opened many doors and reinforced my ability to do independent research, perform analyses, and document the results. The notebooks, along with labels from many of the bottles, form an archive of my first decade tasting wine. Between 1969 and 1979, a period covering my student and early career years, I kept detailed notes on almost everything I tasted. During most of that time, I lived in Evanston, Illinois. It was dry until 1975, necessitating runs…...
Gemischter Satz, Mixed Messages
I reach down to the baggage carousel and slip the strap over my shoulder, the weight of a month’s traveling slowly spreading through my frame, equalizing itself. I pause. Something feels wrong. There is a dampness between my shoulder blades and a smell that doesn’t belong: windfall cherries, woodsmoke. I look down to see a small, red pool forming behind my heels. A man in a yellow jacket reaches for a walkie-talkie. The source is a now-leaking bottle of Fritz Wieninger’s Pinot Noir Select 2006, naively swaddled in pair-upon-pair of walking socks. It’s a memento of one of those evenings…...
A Gut Feeling
These days, when I discover a new wine producer, it usually happens at a restaurant. I turn the bottle around, read the information on the label, and later, research the wine on the Internet, looking for a blog post or something reliable on Instagram. Maybe I’ll find a few photos, or a social media post from someone I trust who has actually met the winemaker. Someone lucky enough to be living in Europe, who is able to do what I once did on a regular basis: hop on a train, rent a car, find the vineyard — or, meet the…...
The Auslese Alchemist
People imagined him to be an alchemist. Granted, it wasn’t gold his slender hands were currently molding, rather a gleaming tinted zinc capsule, encompassing perfect angles and gracing the long slender neck of a curvaceous body. While such language might seem passé in 2021, the characters who regularly participated in such frolics were not. Many were successful, most of them hailing from families older than the states whose passports they’d carry in their bespoke suits. Make no mistake: even here, the wealthier they were, the less attention to proper attire; and don’t let us get started on the unshaven angel…...
Die Rebe ist ein Sonnenkind
for S.B. with love Die Rebe ist ein Sonnenkind. Sie liebt den Berg und haβt den Wind.So open your door already—for god’s sake, just let me in! Nothing to fear from wild slopes—a matter of terraces and grading.Sankt Aldegund, your roses—they labor on unforgiving slate. Vigor derives from parameters. The desert ends with water.Ritual is an amphora: it gives life room to breathe. The hag at the door is never a hag—she’s always a secret queen. Don’t you fear that ugly mug comes bringing revelation. The special red plum from the Mosel is imbued with healing power.If you go to the…...
Wine Meets Literature in Wiesbaden
The intimate wine bar from Holger Schwedler, the size of a Texas walk-in closet, sat off a quiet pedestrian alley not far from the famous curative hot spring of Wiesbaden, the Kochbrunnen. Too small for a kitchen, the wine bar encouraged patrons to bring their own vittles, which, like the guests, included a variety...
Hermannshöhle Hallelujah
Her child, she thinks, is a Riesling. Of all the varieties in the world, she inevitably returns to this one. There is something in the grape’s singular ability to convey fragility and strength, ephemera and eternity, that mirrors motherhood and frames the child in her mind’s eye. The child could have reflected a multiple of varieties, a blend perhaps, or a different hue. She remembers a strawberry-scented evening of pink Cinsault in a South African game lodge, bottomless glasses as sundowners, followed by a queasy morning-after, and a realization that the child — then little more than a flicker —…...
How Natural Wine Made Me Confront My German Problem
For a Jewish baby boomer like me, the Holocaust was always part of my DNA. Yet, I was not the child of survivors. My Polish grandparents were safely in the United States by the 1920s. The family they left behind were mostly killed. In yeshiva, where I spent a dozen years splitting my curriculum between religious and secular studies, we were frequently subjected to footage of emaciated bodies, piled up for burning or disposal. Teachers didn’t hide the numbers tattooed on their arms. But the personal horror stories my cousins told of Polish concentration camps and ghettos were the images…...
Humility
By Rudolf Trossen The sun recedes, the summer wanes,the ripe grapes long since gifted.A chill arrives under the guise of evening wind,Long shadows stretch heavy like leadacross golden vineyards’ last light. Alone on the slope,I watch in silence. But in old caskschurns young wine,roaring with the summer’s solar might,lust and longing into the night,cheering, laughing, singing bright. I bow beforethe deity’s vigor. November 1994 From the collection Was die Reben Sagen Translated September 2021...