A hundred or so people crowd along the edges of Würzburg’s old medieval bridge, the Alte Mainbrücke. It’s midday on a Thursday, but almost everyone is sipping wine, while group of twentysomethings are performing blushingly cheesy—or maybe cheeks are rosy from the rosé—German covers of songs nearly impossible to identify over the chatter brought after three bottles of Silvaner.
This isn’t the stereotypical image of beer-guzzling, Oktoberfest-happy Bavaria, but, then again, Würzburg isn’t like the rest of Bavaria. The pristine college town situated along the Main River is part of centuries-old Franconia, a region rife with rolling hills, Disney-like castles, and a timber-frame romanticism that screams “Merry Christmas” even in the middle of summer. It’s the heart of Germany’s “Romantic Road.” It’s the home of fairy tales like Snow White. And it’s quintessentially “German,” and one of the few places in the world where “fairy-tale backdrop” and “picture-book beauty” aren’t metaphors but realities. Moreover, it’s the center of a thousand-year-old untapped wine culture that began during the Roman reign.
What to Drink:
German wine is synonymous with the Riesling. It’s sweet, fruity, seemingly designed for sipping on a sunny day—or, really, all day. But while Riesling may be the star of Germany’s Mosel and Rhinegau regions, it’s hardly recognized in Franconia. Instead, the vino of choice is Silvaner (the local favorite), Bacchus (known as the “wine for women”), or the Riesling-Madeleine Royal hybrid, Müller-Thurgau—wines so supremely local that Franconia’s signature vessel, the Bocksbeutel, is virtually unseen outside the region, let alone throughout the world. White wines dominate the landscape, at roughly 80 percent of the grapes planted. But the handful of reds grown are uniquely Franconian. A typical Rotling is the Franconian rendition of rosé in which vintners grow red grapes but treat them as if they were white, yielding a deeply fragrant white wine that just so happens to be blushing. Domina, the most common red, is inelegant and unrefined compared to virtually anything out of France, but what the wine lacks in grandeur it makes up for in flavor, with a dark, full body and rich in tannins.
Whatever your tipple, just know that Franconians classify their wine in three ways: New, Classic, and “the Great,” where New wines are for everyday drinking (something like a summertime Bacchus to quench thirst while, say, talking to friends on an old stone bridge and listening to Ed Sheeran covers sung in German); Classic wines encompass the dinner-party table—a delicate Silvaner you’d buy for a birthday or that Müller-Thurgau you got for your birthday and guiltily downed while watching Game of Thrones—and “the Great” wines are your once-in-a-lifetime, I’m-too-afraid-to-open-this-bottle variety: the Picasso of wines, a look-but-don’t-touch.
Photo: Courtesy of Tom Burson
Where to Go:
Würzburg is the capital of the region’s wine country. It may not be Burgundy or Tuscany—certainly not in terms of the spittle required to even pronounce the name—but those hundreds lining the Alte Mainbrücke’s popular watering hole Alte Mainmühle don’t care. Wine here is poured in the German fashion, which means that, like beer, it’ll overflow out of the glass and eventually onto your white top.
Overlooking the bridge is the magnificent Fortress Marienberg, whose hillside is covered in grapevines of perhaps Franconia’s most recognizable vineyard, Würzburger Stein. A producer of wines since the eighth century (its 1540 vintage is considered the oldest wine ever tasted), Würzburger Stein specializes in a traditional Steinwein made from Silvaner grapes. For a taste of some of this Old World wine, the Staatlicher Hofkeller, in the basement of the city Residence, a rococo masterpiece and UNESCO World Heritage Site (and home to the largest ceiling fresco in the world), has been making Franconian Steinwien since 1128. Its Silvaner has been considered among the best in Franconia for hundreds of years.
A few miles outside of Würzburg (a ten-minute bike ride along the Main) is the former nobility hideaway of Randersacker, located in a valley of 1,200-year-old vineyards. Prince-bishops from Würzburg and the surrounding communities spent their summers relaxing amongst the wineries of the medieval village, a pastime that, over the last 300 years, hasn’t disappeared. Sunday Frühschoppen, which means “to enjoy a morning drink,” is still a weekly ritual, and a midmorning visit to Weingut Schimitts Kinder’s baroque estate—whose Rieslings have been a part of the town’s identity since the 1700s—is practically a requisite.
In Sommerhausen, an artist colony just outside of Randersacker (another 15-minute bike ride along the Main), the town’s red-tiled roofs; colorful, sun-painted homes; and front-porch fruit stands selling plums, apples, and grapes evoke images of Dubrovnik rather than Dortmund, and, if it weren’t for the umlauts, it’d be difficult to distinguish from a Mediterranean village. At the heart of the Sommerhausen is Weingut Schloss Sommerhausen, a 15th century castle that’s been producing aromatic whites like Burgunder, Riesling, and Silvaner since 1435.
Veering south of the Main and deeper into the heartland is Iphofen, a town that’s hardly changed in 800 years. The timber-frame houses are crooked as ever—clearly existing before the advent of “German Engineering”—and church bells sing to virtually empty streets. Many are hiking the twelve-kilometer Schwanbergweg through some of the city’s 35 vineyards (an impressive count considering only a few thousand people live here), along the fairy-tale trails of Hötte Hött to Schloss Schwanberg. Those not in the vineyards seem to gather at Vinothek, the local tasting-spot where guests can sample nearly all locally-produced wines. Most famous are the vines from Weinbau Hans Wirsching, which has been producing world-class Silvaners and Rieslings since 1630. More importantly, as one of the only Franconian vintners shipping outside of Franconia, it’s, in a way, the world’s ambassador for wines from this region.
But the gem of Franconia is Rothenburg ob der Tauber, a stunning stop along the Romantic Road and the end of Franconian wine country. The fortified town, with its cobbled lanes and turreted towers, is a sort of medieval theme park for tourists. It’s no wonder Walt Disney modeled the setting of Pinocchio after the town. The vineyards running along the old Roman Wall belong to Glocke, the southernmost winery in Franconia. Like Würzburger Stein, Hans Wirsching, and, Glocke specializes in traditional 1,200-year-old wines: the same wines Charlemagne adored in 777; the same wines Würzburg nobility enjoyed in 1435; and, on this night, the same wines hundreds of Rothenburgers celebrated, with the chants of “Ziggy-zaggy” and cheesy oompah ballads, in Grüner Markt for the annual Weindorf.
