Pinot Noir with an Umlaut

Hey! Someone from overseas has finally noticed a German grape other than the tasty but ubiquitous Riesling. Check out this article from Eric Asimov's drinkin' blog, "The Pour."

I myself was pleasantly startled to discover that the legendary Land of Beer is also swimming in jewel-colored rivers of gorgeous, award-winning, accessibly-priced wine -- none of which anyone outside of central Europe has ever heard of. A lot of them are simply well-known varieties with German names: Spätburgunder = German Pinot Noir, Weißburgunder is Pinot Blanc and Grauburgunder is Pinot Grigio/Pinot Gris, etc. But Dornfelder? St. Laurent? Huxelrebe, Scheurebe? What are these?

Damn delicious, is what they are! Yet Eric nails it, I think, when he points out that "among the barriers to finding Spätburgunder in the United States, I forgot to mention one: It’s so popular in Germany, they drink most of it up." I can corroborate this. German wine producers (excepting those in the Mosel valley, with its long history of selling overseas) aren't interested in the nuisance of exporting -- not when they can sell as much as they want right here in Europe, and get the prices they're asking, without the hassle of tariffs and exchange rates. The wine growers here are small; no one is producing thousands of extra cases to ship overseas. Why risk trying to break into a new market?

I've also heard some people suggest that non-Europeans could be daunted by all the Umlauts and long names. But I dunno, that's never stopped anyone trying to pronounce -- or simply buy -- "Château Beau- Séjour-Bécot Bordeaux Cuvée." And when off-Continentals come here and try the wine, they jump right in. Look at my parents!

I think the main hurdle is simply lack of familiarity and precedent. People go for foreign-looking French bottles because they know about French wine (or at least know that others know it). Yet I have almost never found a German wine in the States -- anywhere! -- beyond the Riesling. Okay, there was once, in a huge warehouse-sized store in Phoenix called Total Wine that bragged a selection of 4,000 wines, where I found a single example: a "Dornfelder," which I put in quotes because this was the wimpiest, palest, syrupiest looking bit of flower-painted confection I had ever seen, hardly 9% alcohol by volume. Help! Slander! Fraud! This froot drink was not Dornfelder -- Dornfelder is a powerful, dark, deeply berry-noted purplish wine that can taste like cinnamon or leather, licorice or toasted vanilla; its body is so mighty that it is one of the few varieties (in my opinion) that really belongs in oak barrels, because it can not only hold its own against the wood (rather than being overwhelmed by it) but also carry it beautifully. Yet this sad little dribble was from somewhere in Germany. I could only surmise that some grower thought he could off his unsellable junk onto an unsuspecting American public. "They eat McDonald's," I could hear him scoffing. "They'll buy this crap." I was outraged for wine drinkers on both sides of the pond! O, the injustice! O, the criminal tragedy of it all!

Wait, there is one more "German wine" that I used to see on the shelf at Trader Joe's. But don't get me started on that cough syrup, which starts with "L" and ends with "iebfraumilch." No one in Germany has ever heard of it, either.

All of which would explain why, outside of central Europe, no one associates Germany with great wine. And which American importer is going to risk stocking his shelves full of Umlauts -- Domina Spätlese, Acolon, Frühburgunder -- when he can just refill the Bordeaux instead? I think this is certainly reasonable business sense.

And maybe it's to some extent a good thing, that Germany's wine villages are a quasi-secret. Maybe in a world of increasing monochromism and the availability of everything, it's nice to preserve a few traditions that you must visit to find. Who knows, would turning the focus to export mean the end of the small grower? In what ways would it change the wonderfully democratic nature of German wine culture? I'm not sure I want to see sprawling industrial vineyards here, like some of those giants in Australia or Sonoma Valley.

One benefit I think would result from increasing recognition of German wine has simply to do with national image. When much of the world thinks of France, they think of style and pleasure. When they think of Germany, they think of coarser (or even downright brutal) cultural artifacts. Thus a little more exposure for Germany's delightful, even refined, aspects would not be such a bad thing, I think.

In any case, I definitely think my Gentle Readers should get their booties over here to sample some deliriously fine cultural artifacts. :)

By the way, what is your experience with German wine overseas? What treasures -- or unpleasant surprises! -- have you discovered?