Terry Theise tastes the Württemberg producer’s Chardonnay, Weissburgunder, and Spätburgunder releases.
By Terry Theise
Dautel: A nearly unerring sense of taste and proportion
For the moment we can ignore the question of what role German Chardonnay might play as a citizen of this overpopulated world. It also makes sense to have it as the consort to the Pinot Noirs because, Burgundy. Though I suggest looking at Chablis and not the Côte d‘Or as the template for these Chardonnays.
2022 Bönnigheim Chardonnay—glug-glug-glug!
The village-wine, screwcapped, 12.5% alc.
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I confess it smells delicious. All the sweet-straw fragrance of “basic” Chard is amply displayed.
I further confess, as a glass of “basic” dry white wine for any given function or purpose, you really can’t do much better. Even Pinot Blanc might seem too assertive— and let’s not even consider Riesling, which is much too engaging. This Chardonnay is clean, pleasant, and tasty. It doesn’t aspire to profound earthiness or significant yeasty richness. It represents the merits of essential simplicity— the variety that is not dull, the kind that is intriguing enough but just barely not overly so.
It satisfies the craving for Muscat, yet even that would be too forceful (though endearingly so on certain occasions) while this stands as the ideal companion-wine when you prefer not to think about your wine choice, yet also wish not to feel underestimated.
I enjoy it completely! In its own way, it is flawless.
2021 Niedernberg, Besigheim
Chardonnay on the side of the label—heavy bottle—no other designation and nothing on the website. What is this?
It is definitely “toasty-oaky.” Sweetly, attractively so, but one doesn’t trust these attractions. 12.5% alc is nice.
And the wine has a bunch of profound stony power on the palate, much to my happy surprise. But curiously, it’s a rare wine that the Jancis glass diminishes, rendering it 1-dimensionally oaky.
In a sense I’m the wrong guy to comment—let alone to “review”—as this is a genre I find tiresome. The best I can muster is “OK if you must have this kind of thing…” which isn’t fair and isn’t respectful, but it is faithful to the way I feel. On the other hand, a summer evening, a seafood paella, who knows…?
We drank this several times with all kinds of things (and went through 70% of the saffron we had in the pantry) and found it “useful,” having made the effort. Tasting it again, I kind of like it. What’s become of me?
2022 Niedernberg, Besigheim
As above; you have to go looking for “Chardonnay” on the label.
At this point I had interpolated tasting the range of Pinot Blanc, and so the Chardonnays appear vulgar in comparison. They refer less to white Burgundy than to California Chardonnay—with all that implies.
I acknowledge the traditional vertical structure typical of Old World wines and I admire the precision of the wine. It can be challenging for a reviewer to fairly credit a wine from a genre they typically dislike. I also experienced a delightful, lingering butterscotch saltiness when I tasted the wine again several days later, after its initial woody notes had diminished.
I recognize the subtle sweetness of coriander. The lower alcohol content of 12.5% is appreciated, ensuring the wine isn’t overly flashy. The hint of shrimp-stock saltiness adds to its appeal. If one is to drink such wines, this one manages to avoid the major pitfalls often seen in its category. However, this style of wine could disappear without much fuss, perhaps lamented only by the least discerning. Despite possibly selling well for the grower, it might not truly reflect his capabilities.
2021 Sonnenberg Chardonnay Bönnigheim
This wine also presents a smoky-oaky profile but with a brighter, more lemony character. It includes what is often described as minerality, which lends some justification to the use of wood. The integration of lees, fruitiness, delicately applied oak, and a seamless balance where all elements are present yet none overpower the others, ultimately vindicates the use of wood. Achieving such balance is a difficult feat, one that even many white Burgundies struggle with despite extensive experience.
This works because of its iridescent green lift, that lemon-balm thing I mentioned before. The Niedernberg may not be “vulgar,” but in comparison, it might feel so next to the finesse of this wine. It’s like the difference between a wine incorporating oak and oak overwhelming a wine. It’s possible that the ’21 vintage didn’t suit this style of winemaking, though there have been exceptions, but let’s see what emerges when I try a different vintage tomorrow.
There’s a hint of emerging minerality mingling with the lemony rise, and although I remain intrigued by what I’m tasting, it’s not a wine I would eagerly drink again. However, I’m pleased to have experienced it once! I’m a complete mess.
Views vary concerning the wines from these two sites. My opinion swings rather weakly day by day, but generally, there’s a richness of “lift” here that introduces a quality missing in the more charming Niederberg. Here, it is vinosity rather than mere “flavor.”
2022 Sonnenberg Chardonnay Bönnigheim
A hint of mothballs initially—quite unexpected, but fleeting.
There’s a notable presence of a “white-wine-sauce” flavor that tones down the woodiness. It’s not as earthy as the ’21 vintage; it carries a scent reminiscent of unseasoned popcorn, though not quite as appealing. (And yes, by popcorn, I mean before the essential heaps of butter that truly make popcorn worth indulging in.)
It may sound pretentious to declare what I’d “tolerate,” as if my opinion holds substantial weight. But the essence of my point is, there are legitimate aspects of this wine that could be appreciated. And that sounds terribly condescending as well. How do I climb out of this pit of elitism!
To put it simply; were I presented with the Niederberg, I’d politely take two sips and switch to water for the night. If this particular wine were offered, I’d likely enjoy a full glass, perhaps slightly more, while thinking, “Not exactly to my taste, but it could’ve been less favorable.”
Regardless of the acknowledged variations in taste preferences, I personally find it difficult to appreciate Weissburgunders and even Rieslings when considering that precious cellar space could rather be devoted to Chardonnays. Although I acknowledge the effort put into these wines and recognize that my palate may lean towards the atypical, the question remains: do we really need more of this category of white wine?
2023 Weissburgunder
Screwcap, 12% alcohol content.
I am quite aware that once again, this Weissburgunder will leave me with a sense of loss, regretting not having secured a full case for aging. It’s hard to express how the usual enjoyment of Pinot Blanc just doesn’t compare. I could easily have indulged in bottle after bottle, but this wine possesses too much character and depth, and apologies for borrowing terms from marketers, but if this isn’t your go-to choice for an everyday dry white wine, then you likely are settling for something inferior, pricier, or both.
Yes, I understand there are many delightful wines out there that meet the mark—my friend Amanda once shared an extraordinary dry white from the Adriatic coast that nearly had me begging her to sell me a bottle—but I’m confident you won’t find anything better than this. However, by what standard, for what purpose?
A truly great wine shouldn’t overpower the moment. It should not stand out so much that it distracts from enjoying the company or activities like watching a game or sharing laughs with friends. In this respect, the absolutely great Dönnhoff estate Riesling (feinherb) might demand too much of your attention. However, Theo Minges’ remarkably versatile Scheurebe feinherb complements even the most “exotic” dishes wonderfully. What one really needs is a versatile wine that pairs well universally, is delicious, and adapitable without being neutral. Just like this gem.
I don’t subscribe to the notion of “perfect” in the ever-shifting and vague sense of aesthetic ideals—especially not the hollow “100 point” scale—but to me, this is perfect wine. It brings me to my knees in gratitude for being alive to enjoy THIS. VERY. WINE. I wish it could last forever.
2023 Bönnigheim Weissburgunder ++
The “village” wine is cultivated on schilfsandstein, weathered limestone and gipskeuper.
Through changing vintages—and referencing prior tasting notes for context—it’s clear this wine increasingly embodies what I consider to be “great.”
It elevates a grape often described as “neutral” or at most “pleasant yet unremarkable,” to a level of distinction that’s nearly unparalleled globally.
While many ambitious Pinot Blancs, like those from Georg Prieler, achieve success by mimicking characteristics of white Burgundy through a combination of lees and minerals, this wine charts a path entirely its own. If it echoes any known profile, it might be akin to Romorantin from the Loire, or even more strikingly, something not typically recognized as wine. Unlike the celebrated PB from Jean Boxler’s Grand Cru Brand, which is intensely flavored by its cru, this wine feels almost otherworldly.
It was almost obdurately stunning every time I drank or tasted it. I can’t help myself; I love wines that ask what can this possibly be?
But for all I know there are fifty other Württemberg Pinot Blancs as fascinating as this one. Are there? Somebody write and tell me! For now I’ll just silently applaud a wine from an unexceptional variety that somehow tastes like it was made with Nepalese Timut pepper.
2021 Weissburgunder -S-
The “reserve” quality wine (with just 12.5% alcohol in this cool vintage) goes back to a language we know.
That language is spoken in the Côte d’Or, and in this vintage, to a certain extent in Chablis. Yet it is seldom spoken as convincingly as here.
It is cooler than actual white Burgundy. Leesiness is more prominent, but cask is less prominent, which is a good thing. It’s like a St-Aubin 1er Cru punching above its weight.
As such it yields the originality of the previous wine, and instead it performs a convincing rendition of songs we’ve heard before. Nothing wrong with that! I’d rather drink this than the equivalent Burgundy, ie, what I could afford among those wines. Here we have the pike-perch (semolina) dumplings without the over-reduced shellfish sauce…(in its place is a lovely beurre blanc with chervil and just a hint of masa harina…).
I love drinking it. I think this is how to do “this type” of wine. I love its creamy mineral dance, I love its subtle toast, I totally love its moderate alcohol, and I totally respect that a wine like this couldn’t come from an unsteady hand. You see it from the empty glass, which doesn’t smell of wood but instead of basmati, which is how you know it was done properly. Its flavors refer more to Champagne than anything else, and among Christian Dautel’s many achievements, none is greater than this.
2022 Spätburgunder (estate)
This iteration presents a deeper hue compared to its village counterparts below. It features a pronounced, unambiguous Pinot Noir scent, marked by maturity with no intricate subtleties.
Previously, some versions of this wine seemed a bit rough around the edges, yet this year’s release hits the mark; it’s abundant, flavorful, with an ideal balance between earthy tones and fruitiness. The addition of a resinous undertone enriches the wine, adding depth to its character.
A brief commentary here serves as praise. It might even be briefer—simply stating, “Yes, it succeeds.” Or just one word—”robust.”
But I appreciate its integration. Some German PNs still taste like composites of misaligned parts, or like they have flavors that were grafted on, with cask being the most prominent culprit. While this wine has a “modern” sort of sheen, it still tastes like it was born this way. It’s the best vintage since I’ve known these wines.
Decant it if you have some. Screw caps sometimes don’t cooperate, and the wine can show funky right out of the bottle.
2021 Cleebronn Spätburgunder
The “village” wine grows on “Schilfsandstein” (explained in previous posts), rocky sand and clay, on an elevated plateau where PN can ripen without acquiring excess alcohol.
I always appreciate the clarity of Dautel’s PNs. In less ripe years, the variety can show hints of nightshades, tomato leaves, and even artichoke. It has an aroma that reminds me of Müller-Catoir’s excellent “basic” PN.
The taste is sharp and somewhat distant. The fruit doesn’t burst forward, but the botanical notes persist into a notably resonant finish. With a Jancis glass, peppery and ferrous notes emerge, bringing forth a striking minerality. It’s rare to refer to a PN as “mineral” or “herbal,” yet here we have an enjoyably unique example.
An element of “sweetness” starts appearing but it’s derived less from the predictable PN fruit and more from the flavor of grilled summer squash. This contemplative, expressive PN might not earn “high scores” due to its non-hedonic qualities, but sadly, we don’t score based on intrigue, and often fail to recognize that there are various forms of deliciousness, not all of which are immediately pleasing.
Yet notice how the flavors come together in the glass! Within fifteen minutes, you might speak of intensity—in this instance propelled by acidity and a vibrant crispness. These strengths combine to create freshness, suggesting there’s no need to wait to see how it will “develop.”
2022 Cleebronn Spätburgunder
Similar to the previous one, this variant comes with a 13% alcohol content in comparison to the 12.5% seen in the 2021 vintage.
Noticeable mild reduction.
Clarity emerges; despite the year yielding somewhat sweeter fruits, the inherent sharpness of this wine stands out prominently. This characteristic sharpness tends to be more appealing during milder years. There is abundant sharpness in this vintage, paired with a gentler demeanor than observed in warmer years like 2018 and 2019. Here, for instance, the tannins appear somewhat robust.
Initially, the wine from Cleebronn presents a more herbal and mineral character compared to the 2021 vintage, matched with a more flavorful texture. However, this assessment remains tentative as reduction still influences the wine’s structural perception.
As time progresses, the wine starts to exude a sweeter spice profile, aligning with the familiar Pinot Noir characteristics, yet in a distinctive manner. It’s notably a wine that engages the intellect, activating parts of your taste sensors that appreciate as much the intriguing flavors as those that are purely pleasant. Similar to the 2021 version, this wine gains intensity upon aeration and slightly draws back over an extended period, which seems promising.
Within Dautel’s diverse wine selection, several exhibit a familial resemblance. This particular wine is reminiscent of the Weissburgunder from Gipskeuper and the Riesling from the same region. These wines stand out for their distinct departure from mainstream offerings. Despite the grandeur of the higher-end Grosses Gewächs (GGs), it is these unique, somewhat quirky wines that capture my affection deeply.
2021 Sonnenberg Spätburgunder Bönnigheim +
The premier cru, on Shilfsandstein and Gipskeuper on a limestone bedrock.
Explore the unique terrain here.
This selection often emerges as the more contemplative of the Pinot Noirs. The ’21 vintage brings a livelier spirit. Notably, it carries a hint of the resinous quality sometimes perceptible in Chassagne rouge or Santenay.
At first taste, the immediate reaction was Well aren’t we lively today! The flavors energetically bounce as if on a trampoline, characterized by an intense mineral and herbal presence, including marjoram and even verbena, alongside striking luminosity.
The wine in discussion is remarkably taut yet richly vinous. Its flavors evolve, offering a cascade of changing tastes, culminating in a playful and enticing mixture of grass, minerals, and a savory sweetness. Even the subtle wild notes add to its appeal.
In light of this, if you’re considering cooking some grass-fed lamb with a side of retro mint jelly, the flavors in this wine will complement it beautifully. Although direct pairings can sometimes miss the mark, this one promises to be an exciting experiment.
What truly sets this wine apart is its texture, full of life and persuasiveness, making it difficult to stop sipping. Uniquely, this wine, though red, possesses a structural kinship to white wines, maintaining a robust presence without diminishing its intensity. Have you ever labeled a red wine “salty”? This one might just surprise you.
2020 Sonnenberg Spätburgunder, Bönnigheim
This is the Sonnenberg I know, broody as an Emil Nolde canvas, charged with a vivid darkness, powerful and riddlesome.
It’s not that the wine is forbidding. It is occupied with its own thoughts—preoccupied, one could say. It doesn’t look up when you enter the room. Its posture conveys a certain grief, a certain bruised sweetness.
What it “tastes like” doesn’t matter very much. It is a good wine to drink. If you know Pinot Noir, nothing about it will shock you. Some tasters—inexperienced ones—will have recourse to the “It’s too young” commonplace, though this is accurate, if unhelpful.
The big chocolately character of 2020 PNs is a sort of lament, a threnody. You’re aware of the distance you have to surmount to access that embedded sweetness, and what it cost to preserve it. The wine is meditative, nocturnal. You wouldn’t drink it on a spring afternoon with the birds flitting about. Do that with the ’21! This wine is arterial, grave, gorgeously dark.
It occurred that until five days later, I hadn’t really engaged with the bottle, tasting it once more. It has become more accessible and displays greater complexity, yet what we observe is not its grin but rather its staid, serious countenance.
There was an inkling that this would emerge with these wines; however, each of these two vintages has distinctly clarified it. The ’21 exudes an exuberant liveliness, whereas this particular one… Initially, I thought to describe it as “funereal,” yet that wouldn’t quite capture it. Consider, instead, the ambience of a memorial service. Tales are recounted, memories exchanged; the lost one is celebrated as much as lamented, and indeed she is gone, leaving us on the brink of tears. We come together as long as we are present, facing the unsettling void beyond.
It seems a heavy burden to place on this wine—or any wine—but occasionally, you encounter a wine that evokes feelings of affection, comfort, sorrow, and mourning. Afterward, you resume your everyday life.
2021 Schupen, Bönnigheim, GG ++
Saliently Gipskeuper.
The eloquence of Schupen is unmatched in the world of Pinot Noir. It communicates effortlessly, offering the purest expression imaginable of this grape.
Indeed, these wines capture the essence of the “erogenous” grand cru concept flawlessly. From the very first whiff, they deliver an extraordinary, ineffable quality, clearly setting themselves apart. (Notably, their allure is not masked by the influence of new oak.)
This wine impresses quietly, achieving likely greatness. It represents a departure from the typical “tomato-mushroom-truffle-soy-spicebox” profile of Pinot Noir. It’s akin to a Pinot Noir that’s experienced a refreshing soiree hosted by Riesling and returned inspired by the possibilities.
Walk away now—you are warned—because we leave sensuality with these images.
During the day you walk around and there’s a pile of twigs somewhere, and you pay them little mind because after all, they are just a pile of twigs, and twigs are an ordinary detritus that doesn’t concern you. You end your day and climb into bed and turn out your light. When the twigs are sure you have gone to sleep, they rustle and stir, and rearrange themselves into little circles, where they sit together and catch up and read the poems they wrote that day. No one but the twigs ever gets to hear those poems. Perhaps they are “small” poems—these being, after all, twigs—but it could also be that every poem deserves to live in the air for a while. In any case, the sleeper has no idea that below his window, the common little twigs are having their nightly twig-haiku slam. Every single night, until the snow blankets them. Then the snow writes its own night-poems, but that’s another subject and we aren’t talking about those poems now.
Schupen, which we are tasting, is many things, most of them not terribly useful to describe, but one thing that Schupen is, is the poems of the twigs.
One could get even more fanciful (“more???”) and write about the blood of the twigs or some such thing. It strikes me that a religion based on twigs could be a good religion, because one could worship lesser things than twigs. That religion that worships dryer lint is truly screwed up. But however you slice it, there is something hauntingly arcane about Schupen, and especially about this ’21 Schupen, that leads you all the way into the woods, looking at twigs perhaps for the very first time.
2020 Schupen, GG, Bönnigheim +++
Enough already with the twigs!
This ’20 smells like purple lilacs. Pinot Noir probably isn’t supposed to smell like lilacs, but sometimes there’s a flowery top note to its earthen umami.
I want to be the guy who likes the ’21 better, because having had unpopular taste for most of my life, I’ve started to be proud of it. It would be “just-like-me” to prefer the ’21. The proud contrarian!
Truly, I cannot emphasize enough. The 2020 vintage stands out with an astonishing charm. Its sleek, “gray” structure contrasts magnificently with a richness of chocolate, grill marks, dark vegetables, basil, and overtly, fruit. The mastery in barrel handling this wine exhibits is arguably unparalleled.
Indeed, in an ideal world, this is what we seek from our wines. A harmonious blend of flavors that seamlessly integrate to enhance its complexity and beauty. We desire a narrative in taste, a three-phase journey with a discernible beginning, middle, and end, allowing us to appreciate the craftsmanship behind its evolution and leaving us in a different place from where we started. We yearn for enchanting flavors and an eloquent “language,” a richness of subtle details, and a depth that almost escapes full comprehension—evoking emotions, provoking thought, and overwhelming the senses.
Such experiences are rare and occur only with wines that possess a unique character, enabling a meaningful exchange between the beverage and its consumer, hopefully, evolving into a dialogue among friends.
This wine delivers a truly satisfying experience. Should you find it anything less than fulfilling, it might be worthwhile to reconsider the standards of satisfaction you seek. For this reviewer, it feels like we are experiencing a peak moment.
2021 Forstberg, GG, Oberstenfeld
The landscape is characterized by marl, gipskeuper, sandstone, and limestone.
This particular wine tends to be more gentle compared to other grand crus, often presenting itself in a charming manner, historically termed as “feminine.” Its appeal often appears ‘sweeter,’ which should not be confused with actual sweetness.
The 2021 vintage intrigued me with its initial austere reduction, evolving into a deep, intriguing scent of tomato leaf, then mushroom and artichoke. It captures the senses in a way, diverging from the lively, vibrant character of the Schupen.
The flavor profile can best be described as “complex,” and I encourage you to continue reading, as complexity isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Tasting from the Jancis glass, you watch as the layers unfurl, though there’s some noticeable instability. It appears the wine might be undergoing a tough phase, or it could just inherently be a bit clumsy—only time will tell which.
There might also be a mismatch between the year 2021 and Forstberg, but we’ll see what developments come with time.
The days ahead reveal a surprising sweetness in a wine that is predominantly awkward, creating an “intriguing” encounter. A harsh tannin becomes evident too. The wine isn’t unenjoyable per se; rather, it’s a vintage that doesn’t quite sync with the Cru.
2020 Forstberg, GG, Oberstenfeld ++
This perfectly captures the essence of Forstberg. It features the Bonnes Mares of Dautel’s selection, arguably representing Württemberg at its finest.
Luxurious and enticing, this Pinot Noir brings complexity and subtlety, a cozy whisper, and undeniable appeal. Below the surface, its solid structure and the resinous hints typical of cool-climate PN shine through, although I admit my expertise might not be absolute.
There comes a moment – and you might recognize it – when all is instantly clear and words become redundant. This, simply put, is extraordinary Pinot Noir, epitomizing the excellence we anticipate from stellar PN. It isn’t spicy, yet it carries a warm, tomato-like sweetness and covert green notes that are seldom discussed. It is layered and profound.
In essence, it possesses nearly all qualities desired in a “grand cru” class wine, except for that aggressive uniqueness. For that, we turn to Schupen. This wine presents the quintessential qualities of top-tier PN, making it a joy to savor.
Stable over the days, its interior umami-sweetness only grew more exquisite. It’s a lovely northern European PN that has zero need to force the issue with blatant oak or crude overripeness. It is classical, almost sedate in its glowing beauty.