
I love white wine. There, I said it. I know what you're thinking: "Any
real oenophile can't possibly love white wine. After all, the first duty of a wine is to be red, right?" And if all I'd tasted of white wine was the mediocre chardonnay plonk of California's central coast, I might be inclined to agree with you. But please, my dear friends and readers, judge a wine grape not by the color of its skin, but by the content of its character.
I submit that there is no better example of this than the riesling grape. Sure, riesling may have a stereotype associated with it of being a sweet wine (for example, the often amazing trokenbeerenauslese dessert wines of Germany), but this is simply one style of an incredibly versatile grape. One reason that riesling is often made in such a sweet style lies in its acidity. Many winemakers (particularly the Germans) seek a certain degree of balance in their wines. Because the riesling grape has such a high acidity, many winemakers attempt to offset this bite by allowing more sugar to remain in the wine. A sweet wine certainly isn't a bad thing, however the common production and accessibility of this wine style results in a profiling of riesling as "that dessert wine."
This is not always the case. For proof I submit to you the French region of Alsace. Situated in the northeastern part of France on the German border, this cooler climate area is known for primarily producing white varietals such as riesling, gewurztraminer, pinot gris, and pinot blanc, as well as the occasional red from pinot noir (difficult to find in the U.S., but worth the hunt).
I had the great pleasure of spending a week in Alsace last spring, and was delighted by the wine, food, and culture in this unique region. Bordered to the west by the Vosges Mountains, and on the east by the German border, Alsace has changed political hands many times in the past several centuries due to various take-overs and treaties (it has remained French since the end of WWII). As a result, you find a region that is fiercely French minded, yet still bears a strong German cultural influence. Just look at the wine from this region. While many of the grapes grown here are German varietals, the wine-making style is decidedly French. Internal balance is less of an issue. Here, the winemakers focus on producing a wine that, while still being balanced, produces a complexity and backbone that is particularly suited for serving with food.
While visiting Alsace, I took the opportunity to try as much wine as humanly possibly, and I was not disappointed. While I certainly enjoyed all of the varietals the region had to offer, I fell madly in love with many of the reislings that, with each glass, impressed me to no end. Here, rieslings are made in an INCREDIBLY dry style (bone dry, as my former wine professor would call it). This allows the natural acidity of the grape to maintain a strong presence. It also results in a decidedly unsweet wine that often boasts such wine snob descriptors as apricot and other stone fruits, lemon zest and other citrus, flint and strong minerality, and petrol (yup, like gas, only it tastes good and gets you drunk).
What all of this amounts to is a wine that pairs
amazingly well with food (acidity is good for that) and leaves you feeling refreshed and wanting more. It is a strong wine that can hold up to a great deal of foods, yet (in the best examples) it is a wine that possesses a delicate finesse that lasts an eternity on the palate. Drunk with some of the local Choucroute (brined cabbage with meats) and muenster cheese, Alsatian rieslings stand out as some of the best wines in the world, proving that a wine need not be red in order to be wonderful.