Germany’s largest wine region, the Rheinhessen, bulges from the west bank of the Rhine, from Worms to Bingen. Despite Roman origins and a succession of noble owners, the’land of a thousand hills’ has become infamous in recent years for infamous tipple,’Liebfraumilch’. Translating as’beloved lady’s milk’ after the flatland vineyard nudging the Liebfrauenkirche church, poor examples have done much to dent Germany’s status as a quality producer.
Searching for wines crafted with tender loving care, I found myself in the charge of a duo of herbalist witches, Christine Moebus and Karin Mannsdörfer at’Weingut Michael Moebus’, Wonsheimer, Siefersheim. As I was dispensed a near frosted flute of incisive sparkling sekt the hue of pale green fluorite, I learned that third witch, Martina Schmitt was away on business. Bathed under Greek sunshine rather than German drizzle, she was scouting herbs to incorporate in the trio’s latest cookery book.
Feeling high from the nervy wine, I eagerly accepted the invite for a brisk’wandering’. Through a cavernous barn prepped for a wedding we entered the witches’ garden. Our first stop was a glistening elderberry bush. Its leaves, said Christine, may be rubbed on skin to ward away ticks – regular passengers on the witches’ cats. More excitingly, its berries are steeped into schnapps best medicinally sipped against a cold’s onset. After observing my enthusiasm with her sekt, Christine offered the advice:’If you already drink a lot of alcohol, you will need quite a few to get the effect.’
Frisky Goats, Goose Feet
We halted sharply at a slender goosefoot, so called because of its distinctive leaves. This would later be worked into a signature gnocchi, which Christine said,’look like frogs’. Oddly, whilst stroking its stalk, Christine failed to flinch as the eerie wail of an air raid siren urgently pierced the otherwise serene landscape. When I finally summoned courage to enquire whether this played in anything other than my head, she looked at me blankly, and said:’it’s simply the local fire brigade.’
Drawn by their brightness in the grass, Christine plucked dandelion heads and secreted them into the deep pockets of her soft linen smock. As the patter of rain segued into a deluge, it was time to return to the winery. Through a low stone arch, we descended into the mossy cellars where big oak barrels were illuminated by candles. Not wishing to break the spell, the witches had decided against lighting the neighbouring glass reinforced plastic drums in this way. Being the last to leave, I checked for broomsticks.
Making a Meal of Nature
Appetite escalating, it was time to make a menu of nature. We began with brisk coriander spread bruschetta, then buttery nettle soup garnished with the bitter dandelions and pretty dead nettles. The latter tasted of boiled breakfast mushrooms. Alongside, last year’s late harvested Grüner Silvaner etched a delicate perfume of hay – or perhaps, given the setting, such a fancy is autosuggestion?
Finally, a thick, sticky strawberry coulis encircled a quivery elderberry mousse, invigorated by a shot of elderberry schnapps which scythed through the sugar. Now feeling sleepy (I must confess, this was the day’s second lunch), I considered performing the rolled nettle leaf trick.
Weingut Michael Moebus, Wonsheimer Str.13, 55599 Siefersheim. T. +49 (0)6703-665 www.weingut-moebus.de