Markus Molitor, Zeltinger Sonnenuhr, Riesling Spätlese, 2006
"Gold, gold, gold - molten gold flowing into our glasses." That was the impression Markus Molitor's late harvest Riesling had left when I first tried it in the summer of 2008. Now, opening my last bottle, I had the same, most pleasant sensation, just enhanced with a little more wisdom of age (the wine I mean, certainly not me).
Late harvest (Spätlese) Riesling from the Mosel to me is one of the most exciting manifestations of wine, ideally light, elegant, full of character and with the right dosage of residual sugar to tempt you for yet another glass without cloying you with too much sweetness.
Gold is the colour of the Riesling's label, and (medium) gold is also the colour of the wine. Not only pretty to look at, it is also very pleasant to smell: glorious peach, intense (exotic) fruit aromas, herbal notes, characterful paraffin wax and rose water aromas instantly made me very thirsty.
It is good that the Riesling is up to quenching any thirst. Opulent in its mouth-coating sweetness, multi-layered in taste and yet light and elegant enough not to saturate too quickly (unlike some heavy dessert wines). A very fine combination of honey, nectarine and peach (peach galore); all nicely caramelised, enhanced by tobacco and fennel flavours and balanced by lively acidity and a hint of spice in the long finish.
Simply a wave of fruity gold.
Comments
Trust thy Co-Rambler!
I should have trusted my Co-Rambler Torsten when we had the second bottle of this on New Year's eve. Why I thought I needed to dampen expectations on this and raise all kinds of concerns, I can't even remember. Maybe I was worried about the vintage, which is known to have been problematic, or I half-remembered a lukewarm review, or, and this is the most probable explanation, I didn't know what the hell I was talking about. "Not to worry, from what I remember, this will be pure peachy goodness.", Torsten said. "So you think it won't be too much of a disappointment?". "Julian, it's gonna be allright. Peachy goodness, depend on it". When I still mumbled incoherent objections while opening the bottle, Torsten countered with a curt, just ever so lightly irritated "peachy goodness". It was, of course, peachy goodness.