Review: Koehler-Ruprecht Pinot Noir Rosé Kabinett Trocken 2017

Grape(s): Pinor Noir

Region: Pfalz, Germany

Winery: Koehler-Ruprecht

Style: Dry rosé

Tasting Notes: Raspberry, wet leaves, forest floor, earth; funky fresh.

Pairing Suggestions: If you’re outside and eating food, this is a good choice. Chicago Style Hot Dog, salads, spice-rubbed meats, hot wings, charcuterie, grilled fish, sushi.

TL/DR: Holy shit, I’m actually impressed with a rosé!

In many ways, I see rosé as the Chris Farley or John Belushi of wine. It is forever in a state of arrested development, always up for a good time, the life of every party, the perfect travel companion for street festivals, concerts, and bad decisions, but it’s not exactly the kind of wine that makes you want to settle down and start a cellar. Oh no! For that, you know you’re going to need a more stable red or white, willing to go the distance, because deep inside we all know that if we keep hanging out with rosé we’re eventually going to find it slumped in the corner with a needle hanging out of it’s arm after one speedball too many.

While I recognize not every rosé is the same, they do all kind of taste the same. After the first couple of sips you realize the color is a lie and it’s not what your brain expected it to be, but it has enough acidity to be refreshing and it tastes vaguely fruity, what’s to hate? So, you go ahead and drink it anyway. Look, I’m not trying to make anyone feel guilty; I’ve never met a rosé I wasn’t willing to drink, but I’ve also never really been impressed by one… until now.

Koehler-Ruprecht Pinot Noir Rosé Kabinett Trocken 2017 is the only rosé I’ve ever been impressed with. That may sound hyperbolic, but I promise you I’m not exaggerating. If you’ve heard me talk positively about a rosé in the past, I was just trying to be nice. This is the real deal and, if you know me, it kind of makes sense, because this is about as untraditional as a rosé can be.

Firstly, it’s German, which I didn’t even know was a thing. Doesn’t rosé usually come from Provence or California? Maybe I just don’t spend enough time in the rosé aisle of the store, but Germany is not a country I associate with this style of wine. That’s one of the things attracted my attention.

I first encountered this wine at an industry tasting with a friend, before we had even walked through the door there was buzz around this strange German rosé. We made it a point to seek it out and after tasting it, we just looked at each other in astonishment.

That’s the second thing, the taste. For me, Pinot Noir either tastes very fruity or very earthy, the best Pinot wines usually display a combination of both. I’ve also noticed that the heavier a Pinot is, the more likely it is to showcase earthy flavors. This is a medium bodied rosé that is driven by the earthy flavor profile, with very subtle hints of fruit. So, the winemaker was not only able to achieve a nice balance of flavor from the Pinot Noir grapes, but they were also able to present that as a truly unique expression of rosé.

Absolutely masterful.

Unfortunately, this wine is going to be a rare find. We ordered as much as we could get our hands on at work, and blew through those few cases very quickly before the vintage was sold out. The 2018 vintage is still a very nice rosé, but I was not as impressed with it. Perhaps a little more time in the bottle will allow it to develop, with a limited stock available to us, I doubt it will be on our shelves long enough for me to find out.

I guess the lesson here is not to let your bias steer you away from trying things you think you don’t like or, if you do, simply accept the fact you may miss out on something amazing.

Wine Diary: WSET Level 3 – Day 3

After Day 1 I didn’t think I had a snowball’s chance in hell of passing this course. Day 2 gave me some glimmer of hope. Today, after Day 3, I don’t know even know if I give a damn any more. I think a little backstory is in order.

I didn’t know shit about wine when I moved to Chicago. Back home I frequently hosted friends and small dinner parties, so I always kept a couple bottles of wine stocked in my bar. My wine of choice was River Boat Red, a local, semi-sweet, compost pile of a wine primarily blended from Concord, the jelly grape. I understood nothing of oxidation and assumed that, like spirits, wine could survive indefinitely once opened… my poor house guests.

Missouri, though home to the country’s oldest AVA, doesn’t have a dominant wine culture, things are different in Chicago. I wouldn’t go so far as to say this is a wine town, but there is certainly a thriving culture. People here took the time to help me understand wine and they approached it in a way I was able to wrap my mind around. Three years later I’m in the middle of a fairly serious certification class and writing this blog.

While I would never claim to know everything, I still very much consider myself a novice in the wine world, I have learned a lot in the past couple of years, and in the process I’ve developed some strong opinions. Sometimes these opinions are challenged and I have to reassess my position, but other times I feel as though the conclusions I’ve drawn are justified. I guess, the trick is to embrace that Socratic ideal that the only thing I can be certain I know is that I don’t know anything.

In the short time I have been pursuing an active interest in wine the one idea I have never been able to get behind is that taste, or how we experience taste, is objective or quantifiable. One of the reasons I was drawn to WSET over other certifying bodies, is because I felt their curriculum was based more in fact, ergo science, and less in the nebulous art of bullshit. My faith is shaken after today.

I think I may try to expand on this in a future blog, but, in brief, the WSET 3 approach to tasting wine has the student look at five categories of factors: appearance, aroma, palate, quality, and aging potential. Within each of these factors there are multiple points of further examination. For example, in appearance we are to gauge both color and intensity of color, which seems fine on the surface, however there was significant debate today on whether one wine we were looking at was “Lemon” or “Lemon-Green.”

While myself, and several of my classmates, were unconvinced of there being any green in the color of this particular glass, the instructor insisted it was so. She attempted to mitigate criticism by acknowledging that such points are subjective, that the light based on where we were sitting was a factor that would create discrepancy, and that this topic is frequently debated, although she did nothing to clarify how we were to make such distinctions on the test, which, essentially, attempts to quantify the color of wine. In other words, if I happen to gauge my glass in beam of sunlight coming through the window and she determines her in the glow of a GE bulb, we have different answers and mine will be wrong.

That’s the first category. We had the same issue, and debate in class, with each subsequent category. The tasting notes, in particular, terrify me on the test. To try to make this easier, WSET provides a key with terms to be used for tasting. However, the instructor is working outside of the key. So, if I taste a wine and use only terms found in the key and she makes tasting notes including things off the key, I lose points where our notes don’t overlap. I can’t help but feel I’m playing Blackjack against someone using an Uno deck. “Oh, you think you got 21, well guess what? Draw four, bitch!”At one point today we tasted a Malbec that several people in the class rated as “Very Good,” which is quite a high marking. The instructor only marked it as “Good” and this opened up a lot of debate on how we are supposed to determine quality. She said we have to grade it in the context of all other wines and, to elaborate, said “We can’t call a $17 Malbec ‘very good,’ because that’s like saying it’s on the same level as Premier Cru Burgundy.”

That’s the point where I wanted to flip the table over and just yell, “fuck yooooouuuuu!” We’re told price doesn’t equal quality, we’re told that quality is determined by structure, intensity, flavor complexity, etc. but even when a wine achieves those points, it’s not quality because it’s not fucking Premier Cru Burgundy? Why does Argentina even bother making wine?

Look, if these wines can’t be objectively measured with consistency, I have to question the integrity of any system that would try to profit off the idea that opposite is true. The Emperor’s not wearing any fucking clothes.

You know what else isn’t Premier Cru Burgundy? This Riesling I bought. Nearly every German Riesling I’ve had has been from Mosel, but this bottle of Georg Albrecht Schneider Niersteiner Riesling comes to us from Rheinhessen. I bought it because I wanted something that wasn’t from Mosel and the guy on the label looked crazy with that scythe in one hand and those souls in other, although, upon reflection, that might be wheat or something that isn’t souls… they’re probably souls.

This was super dry, with flavors of lime, flint, wet stone, and honeysuckle. For all those people who don’t like Riesling because it’s “too sweet,” this is the wine for you. HIGH acid, super refreshing, decent complexity. It may not be Premier Cru Burgundy, but it’s what I wanted to drink tonight and I’m happy. At the end of the day, isn’t that what should matter?

German Saar Mosel Riesling Hofgut Falkenstein white wine glass cork

Wine Diary: Hofgut Falkenstein Krettnacher Euchariusberg Kabinett Riesling 2016

Out of an entire wall of German Riesling this bottle somehow caught my eye. I think I liked the name, we used to sell a Riesling at the Chopping Block from Dr. Frank wines that the staff affectionately dubbed, “That Dr. Frankenstein wine,” …because we’re culinary professionals. I usually try not to get sold by a label, but in this case, I guess I was sold on the name; it reminded me of the immature laughter of some people I truly care about, I had to buy it. In my search for information about the winery, I stumbled across Lars Carlsberg’s write up, which quickly made me realize I don’t know shit about German Riesling.

German white wine Riesling Saar Mosel bottle glass

Hofgut Falkenstein is in the Mosel region of Germany, named for the Mosel River which twists its way through Germany, Luxembourg, and France. However, it may more accurately be linked to the Saar River, a tributary of the Mosel with a longstanding reputation for great Riesling wines. Carlsberg gives an impressive write-up of both winemaker and winery, peppering technical details in between personal anecdotes. If you’re interested in learning more about Mosel wines, his website is an amazing resource.

I can’t help that feel I’m biting off more than I can chew with this blog or, perhaps, uncorking more than I can drink. From Carlsberg’s write-up, this is everything I claim to want out of a wine: produced by a small family of passionate of winemakers in a very rustic, artisanal, method. Part of me wants to a book a flight to Germany just to meet these people. I should be volunteering to pick up their banner and carry it into battle against the Constellations and Broncos of the world, but in the end the wine just didn’t resonate with me.

The wine had complexity and impressive flavors, but it finished quickly and seemed unbalanced in its sweetness. From my perspective as a retailer, it’s exactly the kind of Riesling Americans are afraid of, sweet without a complimentary acidity. I would be reluctant to stock this in my store, unless I was offering a sweet alternative to Moscato. That being said, I finished the bottle by myself and enjoyed every bit of it, but I’ve had better.

Hofgut Falkenstein cork

My ratings on German Rieslings are generally favorable, so much so that I often wonder if I’m showing bias when I rate these wines on Vivino. This wine scored low for me, nearly a full point below the aggregate score, and I’m very conflicted about that. Perhaps this is an issue of my expectations being at odds with reality, or maybe I was just having an off day, or maybe my assessment is right and I’m simply questioning myself because I want to like this wine so badly. Instead of buying into a label or a name, have I simply allowed myself to be sold on the idea of the artisanal winemaker?

There is no doubt that the world of German Riesling is much more complex than I understand it to be and I’m looking forward to diving deeper into that rabbithole. Maybe in time I’ll be able to wax poetic about the nuances of Saar Rieslings compared to the greater Mosel region or Rheinhessen. For the moment, I have to leave this wine where it is, but I hope to return to it one day and give it another chance. If you’ve tried this wine or have strong opinions on German Riesling in general, I’d love to hear what you think in the comments below.