A Glass of Alsace

Not everybody likes Alsatian wine. Good. That means more of it for me. The slim, green adolescent bottles with sloping shoulders and no hips are distinguished by pollen-yellow labels, often bearing medieval-style lettering. Something happens to grapes in this region of France that makes them taste exotic. Pinot Grigio in Italy is often forgettable. The same grape in Alsace can make wine that is as headily perfumed and waxy as a lily, vibrant with acidity that excites the palate without puckering the lips. Gewürztraminer smells of rose petals, nutmeg, and cardamom: a harem of flavors from the Arabian Nights. Muscat is the essence of grape, multiplied to the power of grape. These are mysterious wines, subtle as incense and candles in a church. They can take you to strange places. Alsace-induced dreams I have had include one in which I was drifting with cloud-swans in a fruit salad where the moon was an enormous lychee.