German wines have it rough.
They lurk awkwardly in the shadows with their skinny necks and incomprehensible labels, trying to overcome the blunders of their quasi-religious youth (was she really a nun?) and the consequential assumption that they are all sweet.
To which we all say, "Eww!" after taking swigs off a Mountain Dew.
Dr. Heidemanns-Bergweiler (is he really a doctor?) tells us plain as day that his Mosel-region Riesling is capital D.R.Y.
So, even though the toe-curling acidity (that all Rieslings share) makes a caress of sweetness most welcome, dry examples still swell with everything from limes and Meyer lemons to pineapple and apricots. A big whiff of petroleum and a lick of wet river rocks swoop in for emphasis.
Versatility is perhaps its greatest virtue--playing the cool cat with blisteringly hot Thai takeout or the highbrow sophisticate with classic duck à l'orange.
As a chronic outcast, of course, it manages just fine on its own too.