(Manfred Klimek / WELT am SONNTAG / editorially revised / revised photos: Runwayml)
Consumer reluctance, price pressure, younger generations drinking less wine, winegrowers who are expected to brace themselves for tougher times – these statements have now become part of the industry’s background noise. They are repeated, rephrased and exaggerated. And they are not wrong. But they are not the whole truth either. Anyone visiting wineries in Germany and Austria at present repeatedly encounters a reality that doesn’t quite fit this narrative. Estates that are feeling little of the predicted downturn. Some are maintaining stable sales. Others are growing – even in the US, despite tariffs. Not out of ignorance of the crisis, but out of an attitude that predates any market debate: a focus on what is there. On the place. On the vineyard site. On what is possible.
Two such examples can be usefully compared, as they come from different regions yet share the same principle: unconditional loyalty to the terroir – and to the patient refinement of what it has to offer.
In the Wachau, the Federspiel is making a quiet comeback. For a long time, it was the middle category between Steinfeder and Smaragd, often overlooked and frequently underestimated. Today, it almost seems like the answer to an era seeking less alcohol and more inner tension. Johann Donabaum’s Grüner Veltliner Federspiel Peunt® 2024 is a prime example of this. It is neither a showy nor an overpowering wine. Stone fruit is present, but restrained. Quince, a hint of smoke, underpinned by that salty minerality which carries and prolongs the finish. This is not a wine for immediate impact, but one that lingers – precisely because it is light-footed, without ever becoming insubstantial.
The fact that Donabaum nevertheless gives the ‘Smaragden’ range plenty of scope is by no means a contradiction. Kirchweg, Spitzer Point, Setzberg: three wines, three different balances of spice, fruit and mineral tension. The Kirchweg is taut and classic, the Spitzer Point creamier and with notes of yellow fruit, whilst the Setzberg is cool and stony from the higher terraces. Added to these are Neuburger and Chardonnay – secondary varieties in the Wachau, almost anachronisms – which demonstrate that it is not the grape variety alone that underpins Donabaum’s wines, but his precise handling of soil, yield and microclimate. Here, mastery stems not from diversity, but from control.
On the Moselle, in Brauneberg, Stefan Steinmetz is working on a different, almost more radical form of clarity. His 2024 collection of dry Rieslings reads like a cartography of the slate – each vineyard a distinct concept. I have been following Steinmetz’s work for many years, and rarely has this breadth been so compelling. From the simple Brauneberg Riesling, with its pure, unadorned clarity, to the dry Juffer Kabinett – which, at 9.5 per cent alcohol, demonstrates just how serious lightness can be – right through to the great Hofberger wines, which do not pit power and elegance against one another, but rather interweave them.
Finally, the reserves – Hofberger and Grosser Hengelberg – are not displays of power. They are projects born of patience. Wines that do not demand to be drunk immediately or within the following two years, but require time and thus promise to shine brilliantly in a few years’ time. The fact that they can last for decades is not a marketing ploy here, but almost a side effect of their intrinsic balance.
What unites Donabaum and Steinmetz is less a style than an attitude towards winemaking – pardon me: a sense of identity. Neither reacts to trends; they ignore them. Both focus on their vineyards, not the market. And both demonstrate that quality does not necessarily have to shout to make its mark. Perhaps that is precisely the key for our times: not to reinvent everything, but to interpret what already exists so precisely that it sustains both oneself and viticulture – even when the narratives surrounding wine grow darker.