Weingut Forstmeister Geltz-Zilliken Saarburger Rausch Riesling Spätlese 1993

Friday afternoon down here, all was right in the world.  Curiosity was safely on Mars, the US Women’s Soccer team had won gold, and thanks to a tweet from Jancis, tons of people had checked out the WSET Diploma OCW links I set up.  I couldn’t have wanted anything more, really.  And then I got a message asking why my pages were redirecting to some porn site.  Ugh.  Four hours later, everything was back to normal except for me, still a bit shaken and extremely annoyed with my provider.  Rather than holding on to that, I need to focus on what this blog is about, and that’s reporting on what I’ve been drinking.  And with that I’m going for one of the types of wines most beloved by those in the wine trade, an aged German Riesling, the Weingut Forstmeister Geltz-Zilliken Saarburger Rausch Riesling Spätlese 1993.

Across the industry when you talk with people who are serious about wine, a disproportionate number have a deep-seated love of German Riesling, and with good reason.  They can be things of beauty, ranging from crisp and dry through to luscious, with ageing profiles that can start floral and lifted, transitioning to a delicious petrol.  They can be among the longest lasting wines in the world, made with equal parts artistry and precision.  Even the vineyards themselves are amazing, often on slopes not just too steep for mechanization but even impassable for pickers without the use of ropes and harnesses.  It’s easy to see why people who have tasted and know a little about German Riesling so often love it.

It’s more difficult to explain why that is not a more universally held opinion.  I’d rather not delve into it more than to state the obvious by saying that German wine labels can be more intimidating than most, wine is a fashion-driven industry so what is popular often has little or nothing to do with wine quality, and finally there are a number of misconceptions as to what to expect from contemporary German wine based on wines that were popular in the 1980s.  Suffice it to say that none of those are good reasons why German Riesling can’t be the next big thing, though bear in mind that people in the trade who love it have been saying that for decades.

I’ve written about Rieslings from Clare, Australia and Alsace, France, so the variety is not new to this blog.  While Riesling is certainly grown in many other places in both the Old World and the New, it’s most closely linked with Germany and is thought to have originated in the Rhine.  Within Germany it is the most widely planted grape with just over 20% of all plantings and over a third of all white plantings.  It is believed to be very expressive of the soil on which it’s grown, and is rarely influenced by oak, though often exposed to very old/neutral oak during fermentation.  As I mentioned, it’s made into wines of a wide range of quality levels, alcohol levels and sweetness, as well as being a major component in German sparkling wine, sekt.

This wine is from the Mosel region of Germany, which takes its name and geography from the river.  It stretches from the area where the borders of Germany, France and Luxembourg meet, and travels northeast to where the Mosel feeds into the Rhine river at Koblenz.  (France and Luxembourg also have their own appellations on the river as it winds its way through their respective countries, though then known as Moselle.)  Up until 2007 the area was named additionally for two tributaries of the Mosel, hence the (correct in 1993) Mosel – Saar – Ruwer origin on the label, but that was updated to simply Mosel with six subregions, or districts, and this wine is from the Saar district.

District Saar is best known for struggling to achieve ripeness, which it has been  historically able to do roughly 40% of the time.  When it does, the wines are prized for their lusciousness, kept in line by sharp acidity resulting in a steely quality.  The climate is continental, with warm summers and winters cold enough to allow some production of ice wine.  Wine production is all about specific sites, and the best vines are planted on steep, south facing slopes in order to maximize sunlight on the vines, and hence chances of ripening.  Soils are generally slate.

Since I mentioned German wine labels, this one is worth breaking down.  Across the top is the name of the region (though now changed).  Forstmeister Geltz-Zilliken is the producer, named after Ferdinand Geltz, 19th century Royal Prussian District Forester.  Though his original estate was divided and subdivided subsequently, his daughters and grand daughters (along with their husbands) have carried on the family business, picking up the name Zilliken through marriage in 1947.  Saarburger Rausch is a famous vineyard in the Saar region, just across the river from the town of Saarburg.  Riesling Spätlese refers to the grape and style, with Spätlese meaning literally late harvest, at least a week after the normal harvest date.  Spätlese as a term on its own is used for a semi-sweet style of wine, though it can come with qualifiers for halbtrocken (off-dry) and trocken (dry) styles as well.

This wine is clear and bright, with a medium gold colour and a quick film inside the glass when swirled.  On the nose it’s clean with medium intensity and is fully developed.  There’s a bit of pear, minerals, and many layers of petroleum products from petrol through to motor oil, with a hint of blossom.  On the palate it’s off dry, but not what I think of as a traditional dessert wine.  There’s some sugar, but the wine is structured such that it isn’t the first thing you notice.  It has high acidity, medium body, low alcohol, medium plus flavour intensity, and a medium plus finish.  There are notes of grapefruit, kerosene, a hint of honey, and some pear and blossom tea on the finish.

This is a very good wine, though somewhat rare in these parts.  It’s perfectly balanced, between the sweetness and acidity, and has a complex range of flavours.  While I, along with much of the wine trade, bemoan the fact that wines such as this aren’t more widely appreciated, there is some consolation in the fact that it means they can represent a great value proposition, and given their ageing potential there’s no excuse not to cellar a case or two whenever you can.

Château d’Yquem Sauternes 1997

This is a bit of an unusual post for me, and though I think I can make it worthwhile, some context is required before I dive into my hundredth wine post, the Château d’Yquem Sauternes 1997.

In the wine trade, there are some things that are sancrosanct.  To many they include such things as the first growths of Bordeaux or Domaine de la Romanée-Conti of Burgundy.  They’re never questioned in terms of how good they are.  They are just regarded as the pinnacle against which other wines are measured.  There are certainly complaints as to how much they cost, or their availability, but their quality is only ever judged within a very limited context, and that is vintage to vintage.  The only way to judge the quality of a particular DRC is to compare it against the other DRC vintages.  You’ll only ever see someone comparing a first growth Bordeaux to another wine when they’re trying to tell you how good the other wine is, not when they’re trying to tell you about the first growth itself.

And so while those wines are rarified and in a class all their own, Château d’Yquem takes that to an even higher level, and I don’t just mean because in the 1855 Bordeaux Classification they were the sole producer rated Superior First Growth (Premier Cru Supérieur). People not only compare Château d’Yquem to other vintages of the same, sometimes they restrict themselves to comparing it to its own vintage, just tasted at different times throughout its development.  Given the longevity of the wine, that still leaves a great deal with which to work.

All of this is my way of saying that I will certainly endeavour to tell you about Château d’Yquem, about sweet wines of Bordeaux in terms of the grapes used and how they are made, and I’ll tell you a bit about Sauternes the region.  However, when it comes to assessing this wine, there are people who are experts on Château d’Yquem who will be writing books where this wine will comprise an entire chapter.  For my part, I did jot down my tasting notes, and I can certainly tell you what I found in the glass, but there are others able to judge this wine in the manner it is most appropriately assessed with the full context of other vintages and other tastings of this vintage.  That said, let me tell you what I can about it.

First, the region.  Sauternes is an area of Bordeaux in the Graves district, along the south bank of the river Garrone, near where it meets the tributary Ciron.  It’s a a low lying area with some gentle hills and soils of gravels, limestone and clay, and its climate is broadly maritime though it is among the furthest of the Left Bank regions from the Atlantic.  What makes the area special geographically is the interactions of the rivers.  The Ciron is spring fed and typically cooler than the tidal Garrone.  Where the two rivers meet, mists form in the autumn evenings, blanketing vineyards until the following day.  The moisture encourages the growth of Botrytis cinerea, or Noble Rot, a type of fungus that removes moisture from grapes, concentrating their sugars, acids and flavours, while adding a unique flavour of its own.  While the resulting grapes are rather unappealing in appearance, that is raisins covered in mold, what remains inside is capable of producing some of the most intense and long lasting sweet wines.

The traditional grapes of Sauternes are Semillon, Sauvignon Blanc and Muscadelle, for richness, acidity and aromatics respectively.  Yields are incredibly low – limited by regulation to less than half of what many neighbouring areas allow, but in practice typically much lower still.  Producing wine from botrytized grapes is a gamble, even in the best of years, as waiting for the grapes to shrivel on the wine exposes them to the whims of the weather.  Yields vary greatly year to year, and in some years conditions are so unfavourable very little wine is produced.

Producing Sauternes is also very expensive.  Grapes are hand harvested, but as botrytis can be quite patchy in its attack, often several passes through each vineyard over weeks are required, multiplying costs.  Fermentation often takes place in barrel, leaving a sweet wine of roughly 14% with another 4-7% potential in unfermented sugar.  Barrel ageing over 18 to 36 months is then required, often with new oak, before the wine may be sold.

This is not the first time this blog has come across Semillon or Sauvignon Blanc, but as I’ve not written about a Bordeaux white blend, a quick word is in order.  While Bordeaux is best known for its great red wines, and to some extent for its great sweet wines such as this one, it also produces some fine white wines as well.  Traditionally everything in Bordeaux is a blend, with the red style being imitated the world round.  California producers went so far as to coin the term Meritage to describe the blend of red grapes in their context.  The white blend of Bordeaux is classically described as Semillon, Sauvignon Blanc, and Muscadelle.  However, there are some other white grapes grown for base level white Bordeaux AC, including Ugni Blanc, Columbard and Merlot Blanc.  So while Sauternes producers are best known for their sweet wines, they retain the option of making still wine from their grapes.

I can only cover the very basics with regards to Château d’Yquem, but here it goes.  The property itself dates to 1593 when it was acquired from the French monarchy by Jacques de Sauvage, and vines were first planted in 1711.  There is a great deal of history over the subsequent 300 years, including the appreciation of Thomas Jefferson when he was based in Paris, the subsequent 1855 Classification, and no small amount of family intrigue and struggles.  Fast forward to the end 20th century and it is majority owned by Moët Hennessy-Louis Vuitton, and soon thereafter is being run by Pierre Lurton of Château Cheval-Blanc fame.

The vineyards themselves are 113HA in total, with roughly 100HA in production at any given time.  The vines are 80% Semillon and 20% Sauvignon Blanc, eschewing Muscadelle.  They ferment in barrel, and typically keep wines in new oak another three years, with yearly racking.  They’ve also employed the very expensive process of cryoextraction, whereby grapes are exposed to very low temperatures, and then immediately pressed, with only juice being extracted from the ripe grapes while the less ripe grapes are completely frozen and thus yield no juice.  Roughly 8,000 cases are produced annually, a small percentage of the wine made by other classified producers.  In addition to their sweet wine, they also produce a dry white in some years called Y or Ygrec.

As you can tell from the photo, I was tasting this from an Enomatic, paying dearly for each sip.  While it is expensive, I did once manage to buy a half-bottle to accompany the starter and dessert of Thanksgiving dinner, and it was magnificent.

This wine is clear and bright in the glass, with a medium amber colour.  The nose is clean, developing, with medium plus intensity and notes of honeycomb, orange marmalade, a hint of vanilla, and some lemon rind.   On the palate it was sweet, with high flavour intensity, medium plus alcohol, a full body, medium plus acidity.  The palate delivered what the nose promised, with all parts of an orange – the peel, oils, marmalade, but not orange juice – rather candied orange.  It had long length and a marmalade finish.

This is a wine of outstanding quality.  The concentration and complexity is fantastic.  I don’t have the context required as far as multiple tastings of d’Yquem and revisiting of past vintages to do this wine justice, but if the only way you’ll get to enjoy it is a small tasting sip, it is still well worth the experience.  It’s the perfect wine with which to toast a hundredth wine post, and so I raise a glass to the next hundred.