The Spring Comes

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“Der Frühling Kommt,” declared the banner hung in front of Remstalkellarai. The prolonged winter shows no signs of thaw but it’s time to explore the huge underground cellars of the local winery and revel in its exotic collection. Ingrid and Hakan Olofsson have invited Delma and me to the tour. The couple has already given us a taste of the region’s famed wines in our last evening as guests in their loft at Beutelsbach.

Remstalkellarai has the largest wooden-barrel cellar in southwest Germany, Olofsson had told us, pouring a glass of Fellbacher Weingartner, which comes from another winery in the Rems Valley. The evening was a lesson in history and culture. We learned that the statue near the village square commemorates the 16th century peasant rebellion. We discussed the idea of converting kindergartens to old-age homes. We tasted delicious Swabian pizza and salt cakes.

On Saturday evening, however, Olofsson was absent at the wine pavilion. “Grippe,” Ingrid explained. She introduced us to her son Magnus and his wife.

Bernhard Dippon, a prominent member of the vine growers’ cooperative that owns the winery, starts the tour while his wife Inge serves us the first drink, Lemberger. The sparkling rose wine, or sekt as the Germans call it, comes from a grape variety grown more on river valleys than the vine mountains of Beutelsbach.

“There are about 1,500 growers in the cooperative and up to 150 of them are full-time farmers,” Magnus translates Dippon. Remstalkellarai is assured of supply from about 610 hectares of vineyards. It produces almost 7 million litres of different wines a year. Its cavernous cellars can store up to 30 million litres. “Stick to the group,” our jovial guide warns us before entering the cellars. “If you are lost in the cellars, there are plenty to drink but nothing to eat!”

Beutelsbach and four other towns make up Weinstadt, or wine town, located 15 kilometres east of Stuttgart. The municipality is known for the vine mountains spread over the valley of the Rems river, which flows into the Neckar at Remseck and ultimately into the Rhine at Mannheim.

“We make 250 varieties of wines and sekt from 27 varieties of vines,” Dippon continues his tour. He leads us through a winding stair to the cellar, where temperature hovers around 15°C. He shows us a deep pit where thousands of bottles are stored in crates. From distribution to storage to brewing to grape collection, we are witnessing the journey of wine in reverse.

We enter a cellar where toasted oak barrels taste – and lend their taste to – the wines brewing in them. These wooden wombs are Remstalkellarai’s claim to fame. No kellarai in southwest Germany can boast of so many oak barrels. About 700,000 litres of wine are stored in oak barrels. “Wines brewed inside oak have a distinct taste. They are called barrique,” Magnus echoes Dippon.

This cellar doubles up as an underground hall of fame. A huge barrel commemorates the work of Jürgen Hofer, Weinstadt’s former mayor. Ludwig Heeß, the sculptor from Schnait, also has his bust carved on a barrel. Along with the town square and the church, this winery embodies the spirit of Beutelsbach. “I grew up in this town. But It’s my first time too in this winery,” Magnus says.

Dippon stands in front of a smaller barrel and picks up a ceramic-like little slab displayed on it. These are the minerals formed while the wine is brewed. “Vine roots go deeper into the soil and draws up all the minerals we need. So wine is good for the health,” he proclaims, “if you stop at the second glass!” The epicurean is no one but Bacchus himself.

On a narrow lane leading out of the cellar, our guide suddenly turns around to check if any of us have a fear of height. I suppress the truth and goes along, the sekt still at work. The next moment we are looking through the grillwork beneath our feet at huge metal cylinders that almost touch the ceiling. The meshed walkway is intended to monitor and operate the regulators on these 25-metre-high wine barrels.

We end the walk at the delivery point, where farmers bring their produce to. Here the grapes are pressed and readied for fermentation. The wine stays in the barrels for about a year and then age gracefully in their designated bottles. The byproducts – seeds, skin and stem – are used to make tiesterbrand, the German equivalent of the high-potent Italian grappa.

The effect of Lemberger worn out, but still dizzy from the numerous ups and downs on spiralling stairways, we lost all sense of space. I thought we were still underground but Beutelsbach skyline surprises us when Inge and Dippon lead us to the dining hall. The brightly lit room overlooks the town on the window side but opens doors to the street on the other side. They were right. Mountains add to the effect of wine.

Salt-studded pretzels, bread, sausage and cheese are heaped on a table. Ingrid and Inge volunteer to pour us the drink. We start with the French. Sauvignon Blanc. The white with an olive hue, which originated in the wine regions of the Loire Valley and Bordeaux, was taboo during the Nazi regime because of its French connection. “Today this is one of the most popular in Germany,” Dippon tells us.

“This is very important for you,” Magnus tells Delma as soon as Dippon finishes a passage which mightily amused the audience. “It’s a piece of advice for the women. If you are in a party mood, give your man white wine. If you prefer a quiet evening, if you want to read a novel, give him red. He will go to sleep.” Today’s line-up is from white to red – and dry to sweet – though the opener Lemberger was an exceptional rose sekt.

Conventional etiquette also suggests white wines should go with white meat and red wines with red meat. But the coarse sausage tastes wonderful with the white wine.

“Reisling is the wine of kings,” Dippon continues as liquid twilight fills my glass. “Queen Elizabeth’s favourite wine,” Ingrid adds. Reisling is presumed to have born along the Rhine. The German Bacchus lifts his glass against the lamp, enjoys the play of light on it, smells it in approval and anticipation and prompts the guests to do so. “Don’t gulp it down. Let it stay in your mouth for a while and the wine will reveal its story to you,” he says.

An experienced taster can tell you each of the ingredients that have gone into the making of a wine and the processes involved. There are specialists who check the quality of cork stoppers by smelling it. Remstalkellarai is gradually replacing corks with metal screw caps. Corks are bothersome. They could taint the wine. “The only ones who like corks are the restaurateurs. They could pop the cork in style and charge guests more,” Dippon says.

Halfway through the tour, our host says he would explain the remaining wines before the fourth glass because no one would listen to him after that. The changing mood and rising decibel in the room validates his scepticism. Magnus and family have booked a cab to return to their home in Stuttgart. “We Swabians are money-conscious,” he jokes. “If we don’t drink enough, we would feel guilty of not driving in our cars and paying more for the cab.”

He recounts his rite of passage in Beutelsbach’s annual spring party. “Everyone who has turned 18 is supposed to drink. And we start rehearsing two days ago and the party goes on for another three days. I don’t know how much I drank those days,” he says. “And the parents were not happy,” Ingrid adds. A month later the Marktplatz would be swamped with makeshift wine stalls and revellers.

Spätburgunder Rose, as the name suggests, originated in Burgundy. Born of the French dark grapes, Pinot Noir, Spätburgunder is the foremost red in Germany. From white to rose to red, we are entering the final stages of the evening. We were glad that we decided to book a later train to Frankfurt tonight. What a miss it would have been.

Here comes the Trollinger, the Swabian treasure. This almost endemic red wine contributes a lion’s share of Remstalkellarai produce. This goes into authentic Swabian dishes too. I had tried maultaschen in Trollinger at a cellar-turned-restaurant in Grossheppach two days ago.

The Weinstadt co-operative have been reducing production of premium wines due to falling prices, and Trollinger has been steadily gaining ground. Farmers who cultivate premium grapes would do so in limited acres. No one complains, since the revenue of the kellarai is shared equally among members of the co-operative irrespective of the variety they grow.

The winery’s most expensive products are the ice wines, priced at 25 euro per 375 millilitre. The grapes have to be plucked at winter nights, at minus 8°C, and they are pressed in the frozen state itself. Next in line would be Frühburgunder Rot Barrique at 25 euro per litre. “German wines are value for money,” Magnus says.

But the evening was priceless, visiting the culinary tradition of the town in one go and getting lessons in drinking from Bacchus himself. We say our “auf wiedersehens” and leave the winery. Strange. We can hardly recognise the street and it’s not the wine. Remstalkellarai is a half-buried behemoth. We had entered through the main gate on Kaiserstrasse, strolled through its underground cellars and exited on Panoramastrasse two streets away. This winery is drunk.

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Photos

Gift of the mountains
Remstalkellarai is assured of supply from about 610 hectares of vineyards. It produces almost 7 million litres of different wines a year.

Wooden wombs
Remstalkellarai has the largest wooden-barrel cellar in southwest Germany.

Bacchus and disciples
Bernhard Dippon, a member of the vine growers’ cooperative, tells visitors all about wine and wineries.

Mysteries of red
Dippon's advice to women: "If you prefer a quiet evening, give your man red wine."

One for the strasse
Trollinger, the Swabian treasure, contributes a lion’s share of Remstalkellarai produce.