(Manfred Klimek / Editorial team / animated photo: Weingut & Runwayml)
I can’t quite remember exactly which year it was. The late nineties, perhaps the very early noughties. All I know is that back then I was quite convinced that German red wine was, at best, perhaps a well-intentioned misunderstanding. Something you try out of politeness, but don’t drink for pleasure. Too thin, too sour, too much of a traditional, finger-wagging affair. France and Italy were the obvious choices. And also Austria and Hungary, a bit of Spain and Napa. But Germany and red wine? Sure! No way!
And then along came this Merlot from Philipp Kuhn.
I remember the striking label, but not the vintage, nor even the exact place where I first drank it. What has stayed with me is the memory of a sense of bewilderment. This wine didn’t fit my preconceptions. It was dark, immensely fruity, smooth, concentrated, without ever becoming ponderous. No lesson, no commentary on anything. Simply a wine that stood on its own. And tasted very good. Too good!
I took a few bottles back to Vienna with me. On a whim, perhaps also out of curiosity, I placed them in decanters on the table and served them blind. No clues, no context. The reactions were astonishingly unanimous: Bordeaux, northern Italy, perhaps something from Tuscany. Nobody – absolutely nobody – thought of Germany. When I revealed the truth, there was first disbelief, then laughter, then that brief silence that arises when something needs to be re-evaluated.
It wasn’t a moment of revelation, but rather a crack in my own way of thinking. And as is often the case with such cracks: you don’t step through them straight away. I didn’t drink Kuhn for a long time after that – not for nearly two decades. Not out of idleness, but rather out of a strange sort of contentment. I’d realised that German red wine was capable of more than I’d given it credit for – and moved on.
It wasn’t until many years later that I returned. Without expectations, without nostalgia. Perhaps even with a touch of scepticism: what remains of such early impressions if you don’t nurture them? The answer: a surprising amount.
Philipp Kuhn’s wines today have less of the ostentatious seriousness that was so often associated with German red wine in the past. They no longer need to prove anything to themselves or to the winemaker. Take the Pinot Noir from the Kirschgarten (2019), for example: no over-the-top Burgundy guise, no references to big names. Cherry, yes, but cool, crisp, not sweet. Depth without heaviness, tension without edginess. A hint of rosehip, a touch of plum, a surprising amount of cassis and blueberry. No eucalyptus. A great German Pinot.
Or the Viognier (2022). A variety that I – outside the Rhône – have long avoided because it so often veers into the perfumed. Not here. No exotic showiness, no opulence. Rather, it’s fragrant, precise, with a surprisingly understated elegance. You can tell that someone here knows just how quickly Viognier can become too much – and has deliberately held back. Let’s move on to the two favourites from this latest tasting:
Cabernet Franc Laumersheimer Reserve 2019
What surprises me about this Cabernet Franc from Philipp Kuhn is not its power, but the ease with which it grounds a Bordeaux grape – a single-varietal wine that is little known and demanding – so strikingly precisely in its spicy fruitiness – a delicious wine. Historically, Franc has a reputation for being difficult, for sometimes being too intensely green, for being overly austere and intellectual – and this wine works directly against that. It is dark, dense, with a cool undertone, but never unwieldy. Bay leaf, olive, forest floor, mushrooms, wet stone, pepper, coupled with a freshness that stems not from a show of acidity but from tension. The oak is present, but not as a piece of furniture, rather as a space. Suddenly, here is a wine that can effortlessly hold its own alongside great Loire wines, without pandering stylistically. Not some exotic German Cabernet Franc, but a red wine to be taken seriously on the international stage, with a sense of provenance and inner calm.
Blaufränkisch Laumersheimer Reserve 2019
This Blaufränkisch is the maverick in the best sense of the word. A grape variety that one still tends to associate with Burgenland is planted here in the Palatinate without any folkloric pretence – and it works. Not elegant in the Burgundian sense, not overly charming, but dark and fruity, spicy, almost archaic. Tar ointment, black pepper, black cherry, dark chocolate, chalk, mineral salt and a hint of tomato. The wine is dense, yes, but not clumsy. It draws you in rather than outwards, demanding attention, time and air. That something like this comes from Laumersheim seems puzzling at first – and that is precisely where its quality lies. No stylistic homage, no regional costume, but a Blaufränkisch that demonstrates just how open-minded Kuhn is – and has been for decades.
Looking back, that Merlot was less a single great wine than a great door-opener. It showed me that my certainties are fragile – and that this is precisely where the appeal lies. Today, decades later, Philipp Kuhn is no longer a source of surprise for me, but a constant. And he will always be the winemaker who first made German red wine appealing to me.