(Klimek / Editorial team / animated pic: runwayml)
41 degrees? Even the seasoned wine drinker loses their appetite for wine. By now at the latest, even the most dogmatic wine enthusiasts lose their dignity: people who normally spend hours discussing maceration times, limestone soils and Burgundy clones suddenly find themselves standing in front of the fridge and thinking a thought they never dared to think: Perhaps a G’spritzter after all.
In Austria, it is called a G’spritzter. In Germany, a wine spritzer. Both terms trigger roughly the same reflexes. Some see in it the downfall of European wine culture. Others see it as the only way to survive an afternoon beneath a plane tree. I confess: in high summer, I belong to the second group. There are days when an Emerald simply makes no sense. You admire it. You love it. You leave it in the cellar. The body is not asking for 14 per cent alcohol, but for liquid. As cold as possible. As much of it as possible.
The G’spritzter was therefore never a sacrilege. It was always a survival strategy. The real sacrilege only begins now. For if all of Europe’s heat records are falling, why should wine, of all cultural assets, remain what it is? The classic blend of white wine and soda has long ceased to meet the conditions of climate change. Time, then, for the new generation of wine spritzers.
My first suggestion bears the lovely name Dorn Zero. Take ice-cold Cola Zero and add a respectful splash of Dornfelder. No one will be able to claim that the Dornfelder has lost any character as a result.
Number two is aimed at lovers of sweet wine. A glass of ice-cold Riesling ice wine meets equally cold peppermint tea. The result tastes more or less as if a Rheingau vintner had booked a wellness holiday.
For esoteric traditionalists, there is the Steinfeder Total. Grüner Veltliner Steinfeder, chilled down to four degrees, lengthened with Grander water. Although Grander water demonstrably changes nothing, belief has always been an important category in viticulture anyway.
The fourth variant is only for the brave. Kefir straight from the fridge, plus a small splash of Sauternes. Noble rot meets lactic acid. France meets the Caucasus. At some point, UNESCO will probably ban it under a convention.
The Asian spritzeris even more elegant. Ice-cold lemongrass essence, generously lengthened with verjus . Hardly any alcohol, but a firm determination to think about wine nonetheless.
The list could be continued indefinitely. Fino sherry with tonic. Lambrusco with iced espresso. Grüner Veltliner with cucumber water. Champagne on cold coconut water. But somewhere, even my tolerance comes to an end.
The nice thing about these thought experiments is something else entirely. They make clear how unpleasant some wine debates have become. For years, people have been arguing bitterly about which grape variety is more important, which mash needs to lie for longer, which wooden cask appears morally acceptable and whether one is allowed to put ice cubes in wine. Of course one is. You can also pour mineral water into it. You can even simply drink the wine without talking about it for ten minutes first.
Wine possesses a quality that is occasionally forgotten in the wine world. It is a drink. And drinks have always had a purpose. They are supposed to quench thirst. Not every glass has to be a revelation. Not every sip changes your life. Sometimes it is perfectly sufficient if you are no longer hot after the first G’spritzter.
The great culture of wine will not perish because of this. It even survives Cola Zero with Dornfelder. Just about. But it survives.