Second and final instalment of readers’ reactions to our question about which wines were the “awakening wines” that led them to become wine enthusiasts. And above all, this makes clear how many fathers were responsible for this: men who are now very old or dead, liberal men who wanted to pass on their enjoyment of pleasure to their children – they deserve our thanks.
The winner will be determined tomorrow. And: the six contributing journalists are excluded from the prize, because they write professionally – and that gives them an advantage that we do not want to include in the equation here.
So: the wine people wrote. The wine people read. A small social study. Enjoy!
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child of the steelworks city. most formative. first holiday without parents. somewhere in Italy. Chianti. bang, wham, straight down the hatch.
My trip with my father in 1985 to Ticino to visit Angelo Delea and Cantina Giubiasco, and the Bucaneve (Merlot Bianco), was completely unfamiliar at that time in the world of “sweet wines”.
I remember a Vouvray from Domaine Huet that a friend brought to a dinner in the mid-’90s. Until then, I had thought that only red wines tasted good. But the Huet was a revelation. After that, we often visited a wine shop in Munich’s Au district, the Falkenkeller. The owner let us students have precious bottles at genuine student prices, so that we could train our palates: Aligotes, Crozes-Hermitages et al. It was like an enchanted place where a new wonder could be discovered every time. Even though those days are long gone, the process still continues in a different way.
1993. At the time, a very young Chef de Partie at the first (and real) Café MAK in Vienna, with not the slightest clue about good wine. Until one day I met Alois Stangl.
At the time, alongside Unger and Klein (a wine shop in Vienna), he was a main supplier and brought along a few samples. During the tasting, he noticed my curiosity and came into the kitchen with a bottle of Roda 1: “Have a taste, Burli!”
That was the beginning of many tastings and a long-standing journey and friendship with Alois, who accompanied me over the years at most of my positions and brought me closer to the world of good wine.
At Christmas 2008, a fantastic 1994 Léoville Las Cases was put on the table by the family friend who always celebrated Christmas with us. That was the first time I understood what all the fuss about wine was about.
The first wine that made me pause: some rosé from Domaine Ott that I was allowed to taste in the wine shop where, at 17, I earned a few marks carrying crates. The first wine that made me fly: actually Lynch-Bages too. 1996, I think. Incorrectly labelled at KaDeWe for 29 euros. Drunk in my student 28-square-metre home in Moabit.
Towards the end of my studies, I bought and drank a bottle of 1989 La Conseillante and Lynch-Bages. With a tasting setup: stand the bottles up a day beforehand, then decant, old school. It was a good calibration. The 1989 Conseillante is still magnificent today. Lynch-Bages goes without saying.
The first wine I enjoyed was a Muga Riserva (Rioja) in the late 1970s; I have no idea which vintage! Then the Italians arrived fairly soon! Bricco dell’Uccellone also sticks in my memory!
It was almost exactly in autumn 1984, in Munich. Wolfe and Gaby, two living barriques, with arms and legs, naturally. Both academics, both from Baden-Württemberg, who put all their money into wine, which they brought across the French border in their ageing Renault 5. �The two also had a knack for wines that could be bought in supermarkets. There was the 1976 Château Montrose in a half-bottle, available for five marks at Kaufland. �And, of course, the 1981 Mazoyères-Chambertin from Camus Père et fils, which we picked up at Jacques Wein-Depot. Naturally at a clearance price. But the owner of the shop on Munich’s Ingolstädter Straße – he really was called Jacques – kept finding bottles like that in Jacques’ database. A 1982 Lynch-Bages at Romeo Hofer in the Allgäu also remains in my memory; it was certainly the most physical wine experience of my youth. �Goosebumps all over. It was certainly these three wines that ensured that the genuinely old bottles in my cellar are practically 100% French.
Classically German: 2001 Thanisch Erben Thanisch Bernkasteler Doctor Kabinett, drunk in 2006 at the home of my then boss, Chair of Comparative Literature at Princeton University. Because, yes, on the East Coast people have always believed in German wine.
Tattendorfer St Laurent in a small bottle, during my apprenticeship at Hotel Sacher Vienna … Petrus 1961 … Restaurant Chesa Pirani, La Punt, Engadin. Winter 1981 … a group of Arabs drank half the bottle mixed with Perrier
the rest was for me.
Early ’90s … getting started with the first wow experience: Conde Valdemar, Rioja Reserva (vintage forgotten; it then remained my studio wine for a few years) … for the special pleasure of enjoying it, I would treat myself from time to time to a bottle of Knoll, Riesling, Smaragd Ried Schütt – and, when invited, several sweet Trockenbeerenauslesen from Kracher have remained in my memory …
For me it was quite simple – in my younger years, Edelzwicker (my stepfather loved it, which is why there were cases of it at home – in such quantities that it did not attract attention if a bottle was missing 
) … otherwise, in my youth there was beer and schnapps (as was customary in Westphalia). In Vienna, and with my Viennese grandfather, it was Grüner Veltliner (in a Doppler) and spritz wines. It was only at 20 that a French girlfriend turned me into a wine lover. Especially Alsace and Burgundy – all good and lovely! Then my uncle closed his restaurant in Wiesbaden (the place where I learned to cook – under Alois Köpf, the gifted two-star chef with unbelievably innovative ideas). At the time, my uncle owned one of the largest Burgundy cellars in Germany. And because this cellar was dissolved, I came into possession of wines that were to change my life. Interestingly, it was not the battleships such as Romanée and co., but the excellent Burgundies from smaller (at the time almost unknown) winemakers that fascinated me in some cases. In the ’90s, I was then allowed to drink a Margaux from the early 1980s that I have never forgotten – unbelievably good! And then champagne arrived – in all its facets … and wine fell by the wayside. To this day I am addicted to fizz – with all the consequences … Too much of a good thing! 
Velich, Tiglat, in the ’90s.
The house wines of people who knew how it was done, and the long conversations about them. Then a 1997 Riesling Kabinett Erdener Treppchen from Joh. Jos. Christoffel Erben as my first aesthetic experience through wine.
My first bottle of wine, at 16, was one of those French branded wines with a sloping bottle neck; I have no idea what it was called any more. But the wine that turned me into a wine enthusiast was the 1986 Château Talbot, opened in 1993 by my then “wine mentor”, because he wanted to bring me and two other wine friends round with quality. It worked. I’ve been on the journey ever since.
I had my awakening experience at 15 or 16. I was cycling through Provence with my father. After a long tour, we drove to a neighbouring wine village, which meant absolutely nothing to me: Châteauneuf-du-Pape. We stopped at a small winemaker somewhere at the entrance to the village; my father bought two cases and we were given a bottle on top. That evening, with grilled merguez, I was given a glass without asking, which I tried rather doubtfully. I did not like red wine at the time. Now I was completely blown away. It was so intense, fruity and sweet without actually being sweet. I can still picture it so clearly in my head today, almost 20 years later – incredible. The winery is, incidentally, more of a third-tier producer. But whenever a bottle is opened at my parents’ house, I am delighted. Château Fargueirol, probably around the 2004 vintage.
I became a nerd in my early twenties. The first very frugal student years were over; I had a part-time job, a scholarship and no money worries. So I was able to venture into my first wine shops. There was a small shop in my street. I only understood years later how good this shop was. Whenever I was there, the owner let me try all sorts of things. From his bestsellers and highlights before holidays to crazy rarities left over from tastings. The most incredible thing, probably: I could just casually taste a Ramonet 1er Cru vertical one random afternoon. Here too, it was only years later that I realised how extraordinary that was. And so, little by little, I became completely addicted to the wine virus.