The rigidities of French life are always an amazement to me. Tarte flambée, for example. Here’s one of the culinary signatures of Alsace; a crisp, ultra-thin, pizza-like canvas upon which almost any ingredient can be drawn, and the quick, easy sort of dish that one would want mid-day, saving the heavier extrapolations of choucroute garnie and baeckeoffe for the lazy evening.
But it’s not available for lunch. Oh, it’s not that places that specialize in the flammekueche can’t be found all over Alsace, it’s just that they won’t even consider making them before dinner. Something about the dough, the claim, but we all know it’s really about the tradition. For a country that prides itself on its gustatory heritage, France puts an awful lot of barriers between its food and the hungry consumer.
After a fruitless (and tarte-less) half-hour wandering the streets of Ribeauvillé, we give up and settle into a touristy spot near the Post Office. Our hunger has gotten the better of us; we’re too tired to seek out better options, and Zum Pfifferhüs is packed to its half-timbered gills. We nosh on the sort of things they’re not likely to screw up: various mid-size tarts and, for me, a flaming casserole of Munster, its animalistic stink melted to a creamily aromatic redolence. A glass of some anonymous house gewürztraminer is the perfect match.
A day at the fer
For the first time among many hundreds of winery appointments, an importer lets me down. Or perhaps the producer is at fault. It’s difficult to say, for though we allegedly have an appointment with the fifth-generation winemaker at André Kientzler, upon our arrival its obvious that no such appointment is forthcoming. A stern Alsatian woman firmly rebuffs Theresa’s attempts to inquire after the reason for the broken engagement, but it’s soon clear that this is one of those French conversations that is going nowhere, because our hostess is going nowhere…certainly not anyplace where she might sort out the miscommunication. We shrug, confer, and decide that we’ll just taste and leave.
Someone’s having a lot of babies
In some wine regions, this decision might reduce an hour-long visit to a few short moments. Not in Alsace, where even the most minimalist of tastings means a healthy lineup of varieties, sites, and styles. And despite the difficulties, our hostess is friendly enough once we start nosing our glasses.
Kientzler 2001 Riesling “Réserve Particulière” (Alsace) – Bright lemon-lime fruit and medium acidity; pretty, and reasonably classic, but a little simple. Though I suppose that’s what they’re after with this wine, from a 2001 riesling one should expect more.
Kientzler 2001 Riesling Osterberg Grand Cru (Alsace) – From one of the two vineyards best known for supplying Trimbach’s majestic “Cuvée Frédéric Émile,” and the keen observer cannot help but notice some of the similarities (while internally mocking those who deny the observational existence of terroir). Dried apples of variant breeds, though with a slight preference for the tart greenness of Granny Smith, with lots of crisp malic acidity and a touch of petrol on the nose. The finish shows nice length. A good wine.
Kientzler 1999 Riesling Geisberg Grand Cru (Alsace) – And here’s the other vineyard from which the “CFE” is sourced. Blend this and the previous wine and you do, in fact, have the base profile of the “CFE,” though what you don’t have is the powerful intensity and superlative complexity of that wine. Not to diminish this effort, clearly the superior of the two site-designated rieslings and an excellent wine in its own right. Vivid aromas of apple skin and iron filings show persistent, strong-willed, Germanic rigidity to the dying ends of a long, stark finish. Classic dry Alsatian riesling.
Where Geisberg & Osterberg meet
Kientzler 2000 Muscat Kirchberg de Ribeauvillé Grand Cru (Alsace) – The classic flower box aromas are there, but there’s also a strongly mineral component of iron, and a drying sensation not unlike paper on the finish. Dry muscat is always an exercise in paradigm-busting – like gewürztraminer, it always “wants” to taste sweet even when it isn’t – and while this is no exception, it’s a more intense exception than normal. One craves a large plate of white asparagus at times like these (alas, such desires will have to wait to be satisfied until later in the evening).
Kientzler 2001 Auxerrois “K” (Alsace) – Here, as at Boxler, is a winery forced to resort to codes and secret hints by the inanities of Alsatian appellation law. Auxerrois, the near-constant blending partner of pinot blanc, is not allowed to carry a grand cru designation, and thus the “K” stands in for the grand cru Kirchberg de Ribeauvillé whence these grapes come. Not that it’s all that common to see a varietal auxerrois in the first place. But here, we have what I’ve always considered to be the finest pure auxerrois in Alsace, and the 2001 doesn’t disappoint. Shy on the nose, but with massed waves of spiced pear and apple on the palate, this finishes long, spicy, and just the barest tick away from dry. A fun but complex, short-term ageable wine.
Kientzler 2001 Pinot Gris “Réserve Particulière” (Alsace) – Though 2001 is supposed to be a riesling vintage, especially in the Ribeauvillé/Bergheim area, at this house the “Réserve Particulière” pinot gris shows much more character than the riesling…and doesn’t actually taste all that different from one. Sweet steel and long, metallic pillars support a structure around which linger traces of iron-flecked pear. Striking.
Alsatian gothic
Kientzler 2001 Pinot Gris Kirchberg de Ribeauvillé Grand Cru (Alsace) – As with the previous wine, it’s as if the structural elements of a top riesling were combined with the aromatic notes of pinot gris. The varietally-sourced pear skin and fruit-sweetness one would expect are here, but with a soaringly metallic structure of steel girders around a molten iron core flaking off into a frozen sea of malic acidity; drinking this wine is not unlike licking a steel bar, a pure and focused sort of minerality one rarely finds in any grape other than riesling. Long, balanced, and slightly sweet, but the structure and bright acidity more than cover any softening sugar nuances. Majestic wine.
Kientzler 1999 Gewurztraminer “Réserve Particulière” (Alsace) – Slightly austere for this highly aromatic grape, showing more of that solid iron-dominated minerality without much of the sticky stone fruit juiciness that one might expect. It’s there, but it’s light, and this is yet another wine dominated by structure; unquestionably not a wine for those who need all gewürztraminer to be lush, overly-generous, and sweet, but very impressive for those who are open to its style.
Kientzler 1998 Gewurztraminer “Vendange Tardive” (Alsace) – From a truly classic year for VT gewürztraminer, and showing some of the characteristics that cannot be found in the previous wine – peach, spiced apple, light lychee, and lovely sweetness – but still wrapped tightly around that fantastic core of pure iron. Terrific.
Kientzler 1989 Riesling Geisberg Grand Cru “Selection de Grains Nobles” (Alsace) – The constant flow of library wines from Alsatian wineries is always a source of amazement to me. What a commitment it shows, to hold these beauties back for years, and sometimes decades, in order to show random and potentially unprepared visitors the full extent of the ageable power and complexity of these wines. Here we have a bottle that Kientzler has held until the very limits of its maturity, and the rich, dark golden color warns that it’s all downhill from here. But what a pinnacle!
The view from Kientzler
Steely apple, caramelized peanuts and cashews, with a silky creamed orange texture that reaches into the furthest nooks and crannies and fills the mouth with sensual abandon. Incredibly balanced, and almost German in its restrained elegance. Just a gorgeous testament to sweet riesling at the cusp of its declining years.
The house on the hill
Kientzler’s is a very impressive lineup of wines – dry when possible, balanced when not, and always with structure to spare – in an equally impressive setting, perched isolated in the midst of the sweeping vineyard-covered slopes between Ribeauvillé and Bergheim, well-windowed to take in the majestic view, and complete with a dusty cat that alternates wary patrols of the exterior with sun-drenched naps on the tasting room counter.
And, right now, a nap sounds good to all of us. But we’ve no time for a nap, now or later. Because the United Nations of Lard are coming over for dinner.
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![[Geisberg & Osterberg]](http://www.myspeakerscorner.com/forum/user_images/tci_pa03_trimbach_street.jpg)
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