(Claude Auguste / Editorial team / animated photo: Weingut & Runwaylm)
It is worth looking at Markus Molitor from that side which, in the public discourse about this winemaker, about whom things have become quieter in recent years, almost always gets overlooked. Not the Riesling myth in Molitor’s scarcely manageable Riesling universe, but the “other” wines. They are not a side project, nor a playground for someone who has achieved excessive success, but perhaps the most honest key to his way of thinking.
Because what Molitor is doing here is nothing less than the transposition of a radically Mosel quality concept to grape varieties that were long regarded as foreign bodies on the Mosel. Pinot Blanc, Chardonnay, Pinot Noir – at first, this sounds like internationalisation, like adaptation. In reality, it is the exact opposite. Molitor makes these wines not despite the Mosel, but through the Mosel. Slate, steep slopes, coolness, patience – this is the coordinate system to which these wines are also subjected. They must not smooth anything over, conceal anything – and certainly not simplify anything.
What is initially striking is the time factor. These wines are never “ready early”. They resist the quick impression, the pleasing presentation. The Pinot Blanc Einstern for example, is not a fruity introduction, but a serious terroir wine (at a ridiculously low price) that offers more tension than most of Germany’s Pinot Blancs. Citrus-fruited clarity, cool, salty minerality that carries the wine rather than flattering it. The oak remains in the background, never an argument, but always elegantly present. It is about structure, not assertion.
This becomes even clearer with the more highly selected Pinot Blancs from the Wehlener Klosterberg. Whether as the classic *** version or as a variant with extended skin contact – these wines deliberately move along the boundary of what the Mosel is allowed to be. And that is precisely where their fascination lies. They combine Burgundian depth with Mosel nervousness, drive with coolness, maturity with taut direction. The fruit never seems broad, but always focused: yellow and also green, freshly harvested rather than ripe apples, citrus peel, a little camomile, together with chalk, salt, and an already incredibly precise and even elegant tannin from the skins. These are wines that demand something of you. And taste good.
The same applies to the Chardonnay from the Klosterberg. It is not an attempt to imitate Burgundy, but an answer to the question of what Chardonnay can achieve on the Mosel. The aromatics remain light-fruited, almost restrained, carried by freshness rather than fat. Lemon, more lime, quince, a hint of exoticism, but everything held taut by acidity and a fantastically mineral drive. The oak is more present, but absolutely disciplined by the cellar team – more texture than flavour. Molitor’s signature is very clear here: leaving nothing to chance, but also forcing nothing into the dramatic or excessive.
This attitude perhaps becomes clearest with Pinot Noir. The Graacher Himmelreich *** (the 2018 and 2019 vintages were tasted) is not a Mosel curiosity, but a serious, great Pinot that can stand alongside top-class Burgundies without hesitation – never as a copy, always as an independent interpretation. The nose oscillates between Morello cherry, cassis, blueberry, herbal spice and salty, dark rock. On the palate, juiciness and austerity, sweetness and salty minerality, maturity and freshness come together. The use of whole bunches is perceptible, but disciplined and consciously employed – not as a stylistic device, but as an element of tension. The result is not a smooth wine, but a powerful-elegant, sometimes unruly, yet always fascinating, great Pinot.
What all these wines have in common is an almost old-fashioned idea of greatness. They rely on ageing potential at a time when patience has become the exception. And they show that Molitor’s perfectionism is not a question of grape variety, but a question of his attitude to winemaking – even if we should perhaps use the word attitude more sparingly in future.
In this sense, Markus Molitor’s “other” wines are not a marginal note, but a second main clause. They tell of a winemaker who does not stand still, although he could have rested on his laurels long ago. And they remind us that great wines often emerge where someone is prepared to redefine themselves once again beyond what is expected.