(Klimek / Editorial team / animated pic: runwayml)
41 degrees? Even the most seasoned wine drinker would lose their appetite for wine at that. By now, at the very latest, even the most dogmatic wine enthusiasts are losing their composure: people who would otherwise spend hours discussing maceration times, limestone soils and Burgundy clones suddenly find themselves standing in front of the fridge, entertaining a thought they would never have dared to have: perhaps a G’spritzter after all.
In Austria, it’s called a G’spritzter. In Germany, a Weinschorle. Both terms trigger roughly the same reactions. Some see it as the downfall of European wine culture. Others see it as the only way to survive an afternoon under a plane tree. I confess: in the height of summer, I belong to the second group. There are days when a ‘Smaragd’ simply makes no sense. You admire it. You love it. You leave it in the cellar. Your body isn’t craving 14 per cent ABV, but fluid. As cold as possible. As much of it as possible.
That’s why the G’spritzte was never a sacrilege. It was always a survival strategy. The real sacrilege is only just beginning. For if all of Europe’s heat records are being broken, why should wine, of all things, remain the cultural treasure that it is? The classic mix of white wine and soda has long since ceased to meet the demands of climate change. So it’s time for the new generation of wine spritzers.
My first suggestion goes by the lovely name of Dorn Zero. Take ice-cold Coke Zero and add a respectful splash of Dornfelder. No one will be able to claim that the Dornfelder has lost any of its character as a result.
Number two is aimed at sweet wine lovers. A glass of ice-cold Riesling Eiswein meets equally cold peppermint tea. The result tastes rather as if a Rheingau winemaker had booked a wellness holiday.
For esoteric traditionalists, the Steinfeder Total is recommended. Grüner Veltliner Steinfeder, chilled to four degrees, mixed with Grander water. Whilst Grander water has been proven not to alter anything, faith has always been an important factor in viticulture anyway.
The fourth variation is only for the brave. Kefir straight from the fridge, with a small dash of Sauternes. Noble rot meets lactic acid. France meets the Caucasus. A UNESCO convention will probably ban this at some point.
The Asian spritzer seems even more elegant. Ice-cold lemongrass essence, generously diluted with verjuice. Hardly any alcohol, but the firm resolve to think of wine all the same.
One could go on with the list indefinitely. Fino sherry with tonic. Lambrusco with iced espresso. Grüner Veltliner with cucumber water. Champagne on cold coconut water. But even my tolerance has its limits.
The beauty of these thought experiments lies elsewhere anyway. They highlight just how uninspiring some wine debates have become. For years, there have been bitter arguments over which grape variety is more important, how long the must should be left to ferment, which type of wooden cask seems morally acceptable, and whether it’s permissible to add ice cubes to wine. Of course it is. You’re also allowed to pour mineral water into it. You’re even allowed to simply drink the wine without spending ten minutes talking about it first.
Wine, you see, has a quality that is occasionally forgotten in the wine world. It is a drink. And drinks have always had a purpose: to quench one’s thirst. Not every glass needs to be a revelation. Not every sip changes your life. Sometimes it’s quite enough if, after your first G’spritz, you’re no longer feeling hot.
The great culture of wine won’t perish because of this. It even survives Cola Zero mixed with Dornfelder. Barely, perhaps. But it survives.