Raising Riesling

By Alice Feiring

The center of Germany's Rheingau wine region is Ruedesheim, a charming town of 10,000. I visited last August, days before the hordes descended for the annual wine festival. My first stop was with Johannes Leitz of the Josef Leitz Weingut (winery). Leitz has been called one of the superstars of the region for his complex, naturally made wines.

According to Leitz, a secret of German Riesling is the soil's quartz and slate. When one tastes beautifully made Riesling, the minerals are obvious. With time, their flavors evolve into those of rose water, litchi and apricot, with a splash of acidity. That flavor combination is what Riesling lovers crave.

Heinrich Breuer of Georg Breuer Weingut also granted me an audience. Standing among the 1,200-liter Stuecken (large oval wine casks made of oak), I commented that his cellar was unusually warm. He explained that he dislikes the now ubiquitous modern technique of temperature control, which often promotes fruitier wines. "It's as if your children were brought up with no fresh air," he says. His wines--even his Spatbuergunder (Pinot Noir)--are exciting.

Besides having a terrific wineshop, Breuer also offers the town's best digs. The Ruedesheimer Schloss is an 18th century hotel in the middle of the oldest part of town and features Internet access, excellent cuisine and a first-rate wine list. The oldest vintage dates back to 1704 (yours for a mere $3,227). More reasonable was a $36 bottle of 1989 Breuer Riesling from the Bischofberg vineyard. As I swirled my glass and dipped crusts of dense rye bread into my Riesling-and-cheese soup, an oompah band pounded in the distance--a perfect German winery experience.