For most Americans, this place remains something of a mystery. If anyone knows anything about Franken, it might be the traditional, rather bulbous bottle shape of the region, the Bocksbeutel. Yes, these bottles are named after goat scrotums. No, this is not particularly important.
Franken, or Franconia, is a 6,000-hectare wine region encompassing a rather ovular swath of land east of Frankfurt, following the wide arcs of the Main River as it undulates eastward.
There are two important things you should know about the place.
First, Riesling is something of a minority here. It is decidedly not the star, and it is nearly always dry when it does appear. The most important variety is Silvaner.
Franken is perhaps the spiritual homeland of this grape, though a few Rheinhessen folks (like Carsten Saalwächter or Klaus Peter Keller) might have something to say about that idea. Silvaner is a grape that to me shapes a wine not dissimilar to Chardonnay yet with more structure and vigor. Many wine writers, myself included, find great Silvaner on limestone to have something of the clarity and cut of great Chablis. Why Silvaner is not more famous and more appreciated remains a mystery to me—the Silvaner revolution is coming.
The second thing to know about Franken is that the wines are famously, brutally dry.
Analytics can be a confusing business, but if “trocken,” or dry, wines in Germany most often have five to maybe nine grams of residual sugar, “Franken trocken” is its own unofficial category, most often clocking in below four grams and often flirting with zero grams.
As with most German wine regions, there is a lot of history here, and any writer dabbling in the heritage of Franken has to talk about its most important city, Würzburg, resplendent with Baroque and Rococo castles and one of the most famous vineyards (sort of?) in Germany: the Würzburger Stein. In the 18th century, so one is told, “Steinwein” was the shit.
Today, it does not feel like Würzburg is the center of viticulture here. At the very least it is not the center of the small-grower viticulture that interests us. Rather, the entire length of the Main River is of interest. In fact, I think of Franken as something like a big meandering “W,” tracking the ups and downs of the Main River.
Beginning near the western point, a few kilometers east of where the Main dumps into the Rhine, we start at the top of our “W” with the town of Aschaffenburg. About 20 kilometers heading south and east we pass Klingenberg (not to be confused with “Klingelberger,” the name for Riesling in a specific part of Baden), home of the famous Schlossberg farmed by Fürst and the Giegerich brothers, among others. This is the western side of Franconia. From here we swing down and back up again, following the Main River to the center of our “W.” Just past this middle pinnacle, we head south again for the second half of our “W,” and now we enter the heart of Franken, passing Karlstadt (Gambach, the village of Stefan Vetter, is close) and then Würzburg itself. Rounding up again, we come to the tiny, jewel-like walled medieval city of Sulzfeld am Main, home of Zehnthof Luckert. From here, Iphofen is around ten kilometers directly east, some distance from the river; beyond that is Willanzheim, home of Wein Goutte. Going back to the river, one finds Kitzingen, passes Dettelbach, then after a few quick flips, Volkach (the young Peter Leipold is here). Finally, it’s on to Schweinfurt, where the river turns to the east and heads to Bamberg, which marks the eastern edge of Franken.
Does any of this make sense? Are you feeling a bit lost? Yes? Don’t worry about it, so am I — so are we all.
But there is a young generation of growers that is passionately trying to figure out this diverse landscape. So if you’re confused, that’s OK. Think of this place as a story being written, right now, in real time.
In the next few decades, the story will come into sharp focus.
One thing is absolutely crystal-clear about Franconia, though: this is a region to watch.
There are few places with more history or experience with Silvaner. There are few places where the wines can have such fullness and density, yet feel in a way austere, or steely.
Like Germany itself, the magic of Franconia may be the uniqueness of the acidity here.