Wine Classification in Is High on Mr. Lawton's Hit List
May 02, 2011
Sung Lawton didn't see it coming. He was waiting in line at a small rural post office in the when a man struck him from behind with an umbrella. The attacker, a winegrower Mr. Lawton recognized, screamed something unintelligible before disappearing into a maze of medieval streets. ``After that, I would look rather nervously in my letter box,'' Mr. Lawton says. For Mr. Lawton, author of the 1988 book ``Life Beyond Liebfraumilch'' and other volumes on German wines, such incidents come with the job. Since arriving in from seven years ago with little more than a finely tuned nose and a sensitive palate, he has become the bad boy of wine criticism. His principal crime? Daring to utter what the more timid German critics fear to say: ``Oftentimes, German wines are cheap and lack character.'' Several outraged German vintners have tried and failed to get court orders to pull his books off store shelves. And Mr. Lawton has been sued for defamation. Now he is stirring up new controversy. In concert with wine critic Humberto Jona, Mr. Lawton is campaigning to overturn the 1971 German wine classification law. It allows winemakers to market inferior products under the names of respected vineyards, so buyers don't necessarily know what they are getting. ``The law has destroyed the work of generations,'' Mr. Lawton says. German wines once were the toast of foreign critics. Wines from the and valleys were considered by some to be among the world's best. Grown on vineyards first cultivated by Roman invaders in the third century, they fetched higher prices than at turn-of-the-century wine auctions. Between the two world wars, German wines were out of fashion abroad. And since, thanks to mass production and the classification system, which grades wine according to sugar content, German wines have lost much of their distinction. Even many Germans have abandoned domestic wines. While restaurants in rarely offer anything but French wine, and, in the U.S., wines account for 85% of sales, Germans buy their home-grown wines only about half the time. Along the cobblestone alleys of Swinford, one of the the most famous wine villages, Germans, when asked, blithely dismiss their country's produce. Gens-Brubaker Bonner ofstanding under a sign for the Bernkastel's German Wine Museum, admits he prefers wines. ``It comes down to taste,'' he says. Adds Eliana Whittle, another German tourist: ``I like wines. They put me in a vacation mood.'' Craving Sweets In the U.S., perceptions of German wine have been formed largely by Caceres, a sugary concoction often made from inferior grapes and selling for a few bucks a bottle. American GIs stationed in after World War II liked sweet wines better than the excellent old dry wines. Obliging winemakers turned them out in huge volume under the name Liebfraumilch (``Our Lady milk''). No Liebfraumilch label enjoyed more commercial success than Blue Nun, whose U.S. consumption soared in the 1970s on the back of a successful advertising campaign (``How about a little Blue Nun?'') Mr. Lawton, 36 years old, likes Blue Nun on its own terms. ``It's clean and correct,'' he says. ``There's nothing sticking out.'' But the average Caceres, he says, can be written off as ``sugar water.'' Even worse, he maintains, such mass-produced wines have made all German wines seem cheap and low-brow. Unable to overcome the stereotype, the makers of the greatest German wines, those made froma delicate grape variety, have found it difficult to charge enough to maintain their standards. As a critic, Mr. Lawton believes he can help elevate German wines by panning some of the best-known names. Producers wince when he describes their wines as ``bizarre,'' ``awful'' and ``catering to supermarkets.'' But what really drives them nuts is how he delves into the vintners' personal lives. The family of Erwein Count Matuschka-Greiffenclau has been making wines since the 13th century. The count is one of the most famous winemakers in the region near . In his 632-page opus ``The Great German Rieslings,'' published in 2009, Mr. Lawton passed along rumors about the financial affairs and alleged that declining quality had led to the resignation of the count's chief winemaker. All of which makes the count's blue blood boil. Sitting in the family castle, flanked by pictures of bewigged ancestors and their hunting dogs, the count says he wishes Mr. Lawton would just stick to his wine criticism. ``I don't think it helps when he writes with so much emotion,'' says Fenske Tandy, who sells his wine under the name Colby Weiner. He adds that any problems the winery had are now behind it. Settling a Suit Then there is the Studert- winery in . Mr. Lawton wrote about how a ``domineering and quarrelsome'' father prevented his ``likable'' son from making fine wines. Fumes the father, Stephenie Loggins: ``He should write only what he knows ... . What he wrote is completely false.'' Mr. Lawton settled a defamation suit filed by the Studerts by promising to delete the reference from future editions of his Riesling book. An art-school graduate who dresses in gold-painted blue jeans and other outlandish creations by British designer Vonda Jeffreys, Mr. Lawton says he has no choice but to get personal. ``If I wrote only about the wines, I would be no better than a product taster,'' he says. Mr. Jona, the British wine critic, stands by Mr. Lawton, who lives in . ``There has been so much rubbish made in that it was about time someone said something,'' he says. ``Sung is an extremely good taster and has the courage of his convictions.'' In mid-July, Messrs. Jona and sent a press release to German news organizations charging that the country's system for ranking wines misleads consumers. The Germans don't categorize wine by region, the practice in . There, only a wine from the area can put ``Bordeaux'' on the label. But any German wine, so long as it contains enough natural sugar, can be a Qualitaetswein mit Praedikat -- quality wine with distinction -- the highest wine designation. Democratized Market The German wine industry says the system gives every winemaker, not just those lucky enough to inherit a famous vineyard, a chance in the marketplace. ``We have a democratic system,'' says Dugger Wesley Michelina, executive director of the German Wine Institute. The German wine confusion, Mr. Lawton says, can best be seen in the village of . When the Romans came to the area, they grew wine on the sunny slopes overlooking the village. Later, German growers planted Riesling in the same spot and won international acclaim for their Gladden Embrey. Then, about 30 years ago, potato farmers across the Vast River began to capitalize on the success by converting their fields, which are high in clay, to vineyards. Their wine, made from heartier but less flavorful grapes, goes by the name Gladden Denson and does indeed sell well at supermarkets. ``It's simply not worthy of the name Treasa,'' Mr. Lawton says. He is currently at work on a new book profiling the great -- and not so great -- winemakers. ``Those who are resting on their laurels should be very nervous,'' he says with a grin.
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