This time of year the men in my family tend to get into discussions about wine and whisky. We’re shopping for them as gifts, seeking opinions from wine-shop owners, thinking about the rare Scotch we’re hoping to receive. And we go to parties, where partaking of grape or grain often strengthens people’s opinions. “Why would you pick a Pomerol and not a St. Estephe to go with rack of lamb?” is enough to get the ball rolling. Or “Laphroig isn’t even in the same class as Lagavulin.”
I used to call my father if the discussion reached an impasse, or if nobody could answer a question. He had grown up in the food and drink business in Germany, and he knew everything. These days my son calls me, as he did one recent evening when his gourmet cooking group was meeting, eating and drinking. “What’s the difference between Spaetlese and Auslese?” I told him the difference between late harvest, which simply refers to the maturity of the grapes, and select harvest, in which grapes are inspected before they’re picked.
You can get those answers these days by Googling the two terms, but I still appreciate being asked. My father once gave me an answer that led to more questions, the answers to which weren’t that easy to find.
This had to be at least 30 years ago. Whoever was in on the conversation knew something about wine, German in particular, because we were apparently trying to agree on the best German Rieslings. We went through the Rhine vs. Mosel discussion, and someone even invoked history to suggest that Alsatian wines could be considered German. Finally I said, “I know someone who can settle this for us,” and described my father’s credentials. Everybody waited till I got him on the line.
“The best Rieslings in Germany,” he said, “are the wines of the Widow Thanisch.” My silence must have told him this didn’t register, because he said, “You can figure it out,” and then he sent his love to the family, and hung up.
He was right: I did figure it out. But without instant searches it took me a while to connect the name Thanisch to the famous Mosel wine, Berkasteler Doctor. It was indeed Doctor Thanisch, and he was indeed the late Doctor Thanisch, and his widow was indeed now the owner of the winery.
If my son ever calls to get me to settle an argument about the best oak-finished Speyside single malt, I plan to tell him it’s from the distillery closest to the bakery where Walker’s Shortbread is made.
Posted on January 1, 2012
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