Riesling: a wine of many personas

Chateau Ste. Michelle, working in partnership with Germany's Dr. Loosen estate, recently hosted a three-day "Riesling Rendezvous" in Woodinville. The event brought together more than four dozen riesling producers and winemakers from around the world.

I've tasted my share of rieslings over the years. But I've never sat down, as we did at the conference, and focused so relentlessly on the grape in all its guises.

Ste. Michelle's CEO Ted Baseler summed it up on the first morning with a telling vignette. Recalling the first and only other global riesling conference here, in 1989, Baseler noted that much of the discussion revolved around what, if anything, could be done to popularize the grape, which had sunk into the doldrums.

"One panelist suggested that we should change its name," Baseler noted, grinning. "Riesling, this panelist felt, was just not a sexy enough name. Chardonnay, he thought, was much better. I think that had to be the low point for riesling in this country."

Riesling is doing much better these days. Tastes are changing, and younger consumers are interested in elegant, aromatic white wines. Tony Stewart, the winemaker from B.C.'s Quails Gate Estate Winery, hit the nail on the head when he said, "Brightness, freshness and acidity are in vogue these days."

Riesling sales are up dramatically. Vineyards are adding more riesling, rather than ripping vines out. Celebrity winemakers are jetting into Washington to make riesling here. And winemakers all over this country are making better rieslings than ever before, showing off the chameleon grape in its many guises, from bone dry to off-dry to diabolically, seductively sweet.

No one at this conference suggested a name change. Rather, discussions focused on the subtleties of Old World/New World regional styles and how to do a better job of labeling riesling. The problem that rieslings from everywhere face is that there is no labeling that tells you what the wine in the bottle is actually going to taste like.

How can you tell if the wine labeled riesling is going to be bone dry, somewhat dry, slightly sweet, very sweet, floral, fruity, stony, tart, lush, bright or buttery? Basically, you can't, unless you already know something about the region where it was made and the style of the producer. "The riesling grape," said St. Urbans-Hof's Nik Weis, "is a magnifying glass for the landscape, a picture that the landscape creates." His wines, he believes, reflect not just the soil in which the grapes are grown but the sunlight, the slope, the other plants and even the animals that inhabit the land.

Other, less poetic souls echoed the same sentiment, proved over and again by the wines themselves. Australian author James Halliday described it as "a hands-off variety," meaning that winemakers tend to ferment it in stainless-steel tanks and then leave it alone. No new oak, no malolactic (secondary) fermentation, and increasingly, no additions of store-bought yeasts and nutrients.

Riesling, when made as an unblended varietal, has an innate ability to reflect the place it is grown. Many believe it is unrivaled by any other white-wine grape in the world.

Riesling's flexible strengths are what make it so difficult for consumers to understand. Most grapes, though they can be vinified in a variety of styles, fall into fairly predictable flavors. Riesling stubbornly resists such categorization.

In Germany, where most of the world's greatest rieslings are made, the classification and labeling of the wines is the strictest on the planet. Yet the results leave even the experts scratching their heads in exasperation.

The problem isn't entirely with the eight- or nine-syllable words, which stack up on German wine labels like chips at the World Series of Poker. It's that no matter how you try to categorize it — measuring the residual sugar (an indication of sweetness) is the general standard — the riesling in the bottle may still not taste the way you expect it to.

In flight after flight at the "Riesling Rendezvous," the wines refused to fall into clear categories. Some of the supposedly dry wines had noticeable sweetness, while the sweet-wine flights included wines that tasted bracingly tart. The dynamic tension pinged around unpredictably depending on the interplay of the levels of acid, sugar and alcohol. A fourth element, dubbed minerality — which, by the way, may or may not exist — also enters the picture, particularly with German wines.

I was pleased to moderate a panel titled "Classic Fruity Riesling" which included wines from New York, Michigan, Germany, Washington and Tasmania. Though they shared a certain sugar-based commonality, these wines were very different. Their alcohol levels ranged from a low of 7 percent to a high of almost 14 percent. The acids were equally festive.

As we were tasting blind (the wines were not identified) I asked the audience for a show of hands before each was revealed: New World or Old World? Out of the 14 wines, eight were European (Old World) and in every instance the vast majority got it right. But of the six New World wines, in every instance the vote was split right down the middle.

I take this to mean that New World riesling styles are still evolving, not nearly as well-defined as those made in Germany or Alsace. Those benchmark Old World rieslings are unrivaled. So set aside worries about whether the wine is dry or sweet, and simply treat yourself to a lovely riesling from any of the following producers (where known, I've indicated the local distributor):

Albert Mann (Cordon)

Dr. Loosen (Young's — Columbia)

Gunderlach (Vehrs)

Joh. Jos. Prüm (Vehrs)

Maximin Grünhaus

Schloss Johannisberg

Schloss Schönborn

St. Urbans-Hof (Unique)

Van Volxem

Von Othegraven (Noble)

Wittmann

How To Find the Wines

Unless noted, all Wine Adviser recommendations are currently available, though vintages may sometimes differ. All wine shops and most groceries have a wine specialist on staff. Show them this column, and if they do not have the wine in stock, they can order it for you from the local distributor.

Paul Gregutt's column appears weekly in the Wine section. He can be reached by e-mail at wine@seattletimes.com.