Wine Travels - Alsace

I can’t imagine a prettier wine region than Alsace and, sadly, one that is more underappreciated. Perhaps this not necessarily a bad thing since this insular corner of France might be the last great gem of the wine world not having been vandalized by rabid speculation which would inevitably have driven the prices of bottles into the stratosphere.

It is hard, if not impossible, to imagine anything prettier than the fairy-tale, half-timbered villages sprouting from the base of the Vosges mountains, surrounded by majestic, vine-covered hills and dense forests of beech, oak, ash, and fir. Add to that the fact that the region has not only a rich winemaking history (which begins, like in almost any other region of Europe, with the arrival of the Romans in the first century BC) but a very dynamic, yet strongly regional, food scene. Because of its geographic location, Alsace has switched sides between French and German control numerous times resulting in a blend of the two cultures. German traits are still visible in plain sight, especially in the local cuisine and architecture.

I had the pleasure to travel to the region twice recently. The first trip, in mid-October, was blessed by a warm sun shining undisturbed on an endless sea of golden leaves. The second time around though, in late November, the weather gods were not on my side and the entire stay was characterized by frigid temperatures only partially mitigated by a pale sun that struggled to break through the grey, thick sky.  This cold spell was actually a rare occurrence, since the Vosges play a key role in shaping the region’s weather by shielding it from most of the storm systems coming from the west, making Alsace the sunniest and driest region in France. 

Nonetheless, the bad weather didn’t stop me from heading straight to the tiny hamlet of Riquewihr, a mere 20-minute drive north of Colmar, the wine capital of Alsace. Of all the beautiful villages in the region, Riquewihr had left an indelible mark on me and I couldn’t wait to go back.

This medieval village, first documented in 1094, sits at the foothills of the imposing Schoenenbourg Grand Cru, a 40-hectare, south-facing hill whose soil consists of a mix of marl, limestone, and sandstone. The vineyard, part of which was once owned by the famous French philosopher Voltaire, starts just outside the city walls on its northern side and rises rapidly on a very steep incline. Despite getting abundant sunshine, thanks to its aspect and altitude, the Schoenenbourg Grand Cru benefits from its location, situated at the entrance of a valley, that grants a cool microclimate and wide diurnal swings. This, in turn, allows for the grapes to have a long growing season and ensure ripeness while retaining plenty of freshness, thus providing the resulting wines with great longevity.  From the summit of Schoenenbourg, a narrow road snakes through thick woods and takes you over the hill towards the sleepy village of Hunawihr, passing by by two of the most revered vineyards in the France, Zind-Humbrecht’s Clos Windsbuhl and Timbach’s Clos Sainte Hune (the latter part of the larger Rosacker Grand Cru). This sliver of Alsace is a wine lover’s paradise. 

When I arrived at Domaine Marcel Deiss in the village of Bergheim, shortly before sunset, the sun finally managed to peek through the clouds, casting a golden glow over the Altemberg De Bergheim Grand Cru. (This massive hills sits just across from the Domaine). It was the first time in two days that the sun was showing its face. 

One can only admire Deiss’ commitment to let the terroir speak. The Domaine’s philosophy of co-plantation and co-fermentation has the specific purpose to put the emphasis on terroir rather than grape variety.  The planting of a mixture of varietals, harvested and pressed together, was actually common practice in Alsace before vines were decimated by phylloxera in the early 20th Century and later on by the destruction brought to the region during WWII. The replanting program that followed focused on single varietals and clones, causing a depletion of biodiversity.

By law, still wines produced in Alsace fall in two main categories: the large regional Alsace AOC and the Alsace Grand Cru AOC, thus not allowing any premier cru designations, even though, similarly to Burgundy’s Cote d’Or, Alsace has countless scrupulously mapped vineyards, each one defined by a marked individuality according to, above all, the soil’s unique composition, geographical features, and climate.

To make matters more complicated is the fact that Alsatian bottles are varietally labeled. While this might make the region’s wines easier to navigate for the average consumer, it has inevitably moved the focus from the terroir to the varietal.

Considering this environment, the effort put in place by Domaine Deiss is even more admirable. In an attempt to rectify the shortcomings of the lawmakers, (too many Grand Crus, no premier crus or village designations) the estate begun to bottle its wines according to the place of origin and labeling them as such, in a practice not yet officially recognized by the authorities. Furthermore, the Domaine rejected the concept of single varietal wines, now common in Alsace, by planting multiple historical varietals in its vineyards (up to 13, in the case of the Altemberg De Bergheim Grand Cru), then harvest them and vinify them together. One can only hope that Marcel Deiss’ approach will inspire other producers in the region to follow his example in highlighting the nuances of the region’s complex terroirs and, in doing so, reshaping the way Alsatian wines are perceived.

Stefano Zanoncello