Fritz Haag - Brauneberg Juffer Sonnenuhr 2017
We are drinking a bottle of 2017 Riesling from the Juffer Sonnenuhr vineyard in Brauneberg from the Fritz Haag winery.
One would think that a thirst for Riesling is an easy problem to solve. Pour decent Riesling into a glass, drink it, and you have it, no more Riesling thirst. However, the bottle I had chosen was completely oxidized despite having a screw cap. Amber and sherry notes were not what I was craving. This rarely happens with screw caps, but it does happen. Then there was another bottle of Brauneberg Juffer, without Sonnenuhr, which had met a similar fate recently. In this case, however, it had tree bark in the bottle neck. Opened at the family home of the better half in Karlsruhe, wines, at least based on my personal sample, seem to handle the transfer from beautiful Württemberg to Baden poorly. Who can blame them? The result is the same regardless: two bottles down the drain. Perhaps it was divine intervention, nudging me to remember that the Juffer without Sonnenuhr from a similar vintage had already made an appearance here. So this time, with Sonnenuhr. Since I simply don’t own a bottle of Sonnenuhr from 2016, which is incredibly unfortunate because I really like Riesling from 2016, we have 2017 instead. The corresponding vineyards are still directly opposite Brauneberg and the Fritz Haag winery building on the other side of the Mosel. Last year we were on site, so the next Mythos Mosel should take place in this section the year after next. And it actually looks very similar in real life to what’s depicted on the label. The Juffer Sonnenuhr is the prime piece in the middle of the Juffer vineyard, right around the eponymous sundial. One of the many sundials in the Mosel Valley, as people everywhere want to know the time apparently.
The beautiful yellow fruit immediately makes me forget the two pour-out experiences. There’s also a bit of wet stone and a minimal hint of maturity, gently indicating that 2017 wasn’t yesterday. If you only drank it, you wouldn’t guess it, it’s so fresh. There’s even more yellow fruit on the palate than on the nose. There are pears, ripe apples, mirabelle plums, and nectarines. But there’s also stone, structure, herbs, and super fresh acidity behind it. If I didn’t know the wine was dry, I would never guess it from the sweet fruit in the aroma. On the other hand, they don’t call it Mosel-dry for nothing, and I don’t have any analytical data on hand. Since I’m not a dry wine fetishist, I don’t care anyway. Especially not when, as here, I can’t even get my nose out of the empty glass. It’s so lovely. And you can’t shake the feeling that the wine has just begun to mature. This fruit is simply brilliant. And then, when the wine just disappears at the back, your lips dry out. A bit like being by the sea. It’s simply a great wine and yet so easy to drink that finishing the bottle alone wouldn’t be a problem. But we’ll drink this bottle over at least two evenings. Though, in this case, it certainly won’t be more than two.
And evening two starts just as beautifully. A fruit basket from passion fruit to multivitamin juice, from apple to pineapple. It’s all there. The wine has become creamier, a bit riper and sweeter. There’s honey now. And at the same time, significantly more juiciness. There’s real drive in it. The stony herbs, the textured grip, they give the wine tension. Nothing loose here to be found. Have I mentioned how lovely I think the fruit is? Yes? Doesn’t matter, I’ll say it again. Despite all the enjoyment I can have with a barren stony desert in a Riesling, with wines so dry that you need a sip of water, this here is just as much fun. Maybe even a little bit more. A thirst for Riesling is indeed an easily solvable problem. At least with a Riesling like this in the glass. This is one of those wines that stick in your mind. And not because you drank too much of it.