Alcohol, and therefore wine, is under attack from seemingly all sides. Most pertinently, categorical warnings issued by the World Health Organization and US Dietary Guidelines (the former based in part by “research” and support by Canadian neo-prohibitionists and the latter by the ICCPUD, a group tasked with the prevention of underage drinking) state that “no amount of alcohol is safe for human consumption”. That's quite an assertion.
Nobody lacks self-discipline like us at Metrovino. We make valiant attempts at restraint, but you’d never know it given the fact that we import 80+ disparate German Riesling labels each vintage. Despite its amorphous parameters, every year we encounter phenomenal wines in our travels that don’t fit neatly into our bloated “portfolio”. When a brief encounter with such a wine makes clear that a future without it would be impoverished, empty and meaningless, we import said wine for reasons of emotion — regardless of its lack of glass-pour potential at restaurants or inherent appeal to trophy hunters.
This past April, winegrower Andreas Adam and I made a short drive to the village of Leiwen for dinner. Upon leaving the main road, I noticed a building alongside the Mosel river that conjured several memories for me. "Has that hotel and restaurant closed down?” I asked. After all, Andreas was the one who had recommended it to me so many years ago. He lamented that their doors were indeed permanently closed, and over dinner I recounted the following memory.
