It probably won’t come as a great shock that Germany produces some red wines, but as The Sotheby’s Wine Encyclopedia notes, “Even members of the wine trade find it surprising that almost 37% of German vineyards are planted with black grape varieties.” That figure certainly came as a surprise to me. Where is this apparent sea of German red wine? Certainly not on the shelves of American wine shops — Even the largest stores typically carry just one or two.

The most widely planted (and some would argue most successful) red grape variety in Germany is Spätburgunder, which we know as Pinot Noir. But according to The Oxford Companion to Wine, “Few of these wines are exported since demand so much exceeds supply within Germany, and prices are high.” And surely foreign markets would be difficult for these wines to crack. I suspect if the average American wine consumer saw a high-priced Spätburgunder on the shelf, they would be loath to take a risk on it, even on the off-chance they knew it was a Pinot Noir.

But should you encounter a Spätburgunder at a reasonable price, and should you be a fan of Pinot Noir, I recommend snapping it up. It’s true that not too long ago, the “typical Spätburgunder was pale, sweetish and all too often tinged with rot-related odours,” according to the pull-no-punches Oxford Companion. I had a number of these when I studied abroad in Germany, and I must admit they put me off Teutonic reds for years.

How times have changed! Lower yields and longer maceration periods (the time the juice has in contact with the grape skins and seeds) over the last two decades have markedly increased quality, and I have to agree with Sotheby’s when it argues that nowadays, “talented winemakers have produced truly beautiful, silky-smooth, well-colored red wines from [Spätburgunder].”

I tasted a number of fine Spätburgunders on my last trip to Germany, and they ranged from fruity and pleasing to absolutely lovely:

2008 Weingut August Kesseler Spätburgunder Trocken: This wine from Assmannshausen in the Rheingau had the classic cherries and earth aroma I associate with Pinot Noir. It tasted light, fruity, spicy and earthy, again in classic Pinot fashion. The almost tart acids really perked up when paired with some saddle of venison.

2008 Weingut Schloss Eberstein Spätburgunder Trocken: No one can accuse this winery east of Baden-Baden of overpricing its Spätburgunders — I found a German shop selling bottles of this for just €9 (about $12). A clear brick-red color, it smelled of red fruit and iron. It moved from ripe up-front fruit to a velvety midsection to some rather rustic white-pepper spice. Oddly, I also drank this wine with venison, which it matched perfectly.

2009 Weingut Seeger Heidelberger Herrenberg Spätburgunder “S” Trocken: This winery based in northern Baden takes its highest quality Blauer Spätburgunder (another German synonym for Pinot Noir), designates it as “S”, “R” or “RR”, and ages it in small French-oak barriques for 18 to 20 months. The Sotheby’s Encyclopedia actually cites wines from the Herrenberg, a steep vineyard just outside Heidelberg, as particularly worthy of note, and highlights Seeger as a top producer. I certainly enjoyed this wine — it had aromas of cherries, tobaccos and earth, and open red-fruit flavors which tightened up and crescendoed into some black-pepper spice.

2011 Weingut Dr. von Basserman-Jordan Spätburgunder Trocken: This Pinot Noir from Pfalz-based Basserman-Jordan had a particularly earthy aroma, with notes of iron and cherries. It tasted brick-red, with powerful black-pepper spice and a touch of something herbaceous. I wouldn’t call this one “refined;” it was more rowdy and rustic, which is not at all a bad thing.

2010 Weingut Dr. von Basserman-Jordan Ölberg Grosses Gewächs Spätburgunder Trocken: There are a lot of rules governing what qualifies a wine classified as “Grosses Gewächs,” a very recently developed designation which translates as “Great Growth.” Most important is that these wines come from vineyard sites which have shown themselves over the years to be truly superior. There are also rules about residual sugar and so forth (as there always are in Germany) which I just can’t bring myself to write about. You can often tell a wine is a Grosses Gewächs by the “GG” on the label, but prior to 2006 or so, you just have to know your vineyards.  In any case, this Spätburgunder comes from the Ölberg, a vineyard which produces some of the Pfalz’s very top red wines. It had a more herbaceous aroma, and it felt more under control, its red fruit flavors complemented by vanilla notes and white-pepper spice. It seemed elegant, this Pinot Noir, with a silky, creamy texture. Superb.

None of my resources, incidentally, indicated why the Germans call Pinot Noir “Spätburgunder,” which translates as “Late Burgundian.” It seems an odd name for a grape which traditionally ripens early. My theory is that Germans simply called it “Burgunder” until an even earlier-ripening Pinot Noir mutation evolved in Franken about 150 years ago. To distinguish between the two, it only made sense to call one Late Burgundian and the other Early Burgundian, or Frühburgunder.

German wine and Riesling are practically synonymous, and considering the quality of fine German Rieslings, it’s no wonder. But Germany grows other varieties as well, of course, and quite successfully at that. Some tend to be duds (like Müller-Thurgau), but some are quite delicious, such as Weissburgunder and Grauburgunder. These varieties, which translate as “White Burgundian” and “Gray Burgundian,” respectively, are in fact nothing more (and nothing less) than German Pinot Blanc and Pinot Gris.

Wines made from Weissburgunder or Grauburgunder tend to be richly flavorful, and yet, it’s rare to find them here in the United States. Perhaps these semi-pronounceable varieties are overshadowed by Riesling, or perhaps the Germans prefer to keep these wines all to themselves!

Whatever the case, they are worth seeking out. As you might have guessed from the names, both varieties are direct descendants of the highly regarded Pinot Noir variety (Pinot Gris is a mutation of Pinot Noir, and Pinot Blanc is a mutation of Pinot Gris). This noble pedigree shows in the wines these varieties produce.

I tasted a number of delicious examples of Weissburgunder and Grauburgunder during my recent German sojourn, and there wasn’t a single disappointment:

2011 Weingut Max Ferd Richter Weissburgunder: This wine from the spectacularly scenic Mosel Valley — my favorite German wine region — had a fresh and spicy aroma, floral fruit, limey acids and a tight finish. Cheerful and refreshing.

2012 Weingut Wolf Weissburgunder Trocken: I sampled this wine from the Pfalz region, which is really a northern extension of the famed Alsace, in a thoroughly delightful Munich restaurant called Halali. The Pfalz produces some of Germany’s best wines, though this is quite an inexpensive Weissburgunder, offered for just €5.50 per bottle on the winery’s website. I would have guessed it cost at least triple that. Almost clear in color, it had a bright and spicy aroma in keeping with the variety. Its ripe fruit tightened quickly into tart, focused acids. Not bad for a $7.00 bottle of wine!

2012 Weingut Christmann Gimmeldingen Weissburgunder: Now we’re really getting somewhere — the “climatically pampered” vineyard of Gimmeldingen produces some of the Pfalz’s best wines, according to The Sotheby’s Wine Encyclopedia. I had a feeling this Weissburgunder would hit a home run when I smelled its bouquet of rich white fruit. It tasted very fruity, and its lush texture was well-balanced by tightly wound acids, some distinct minerality and a hint of earth. Excellent.

2011 Schnaitmann Grau Weiss: I’m cheating a little bit here, but bear with me — I loved this one. The Grau Weiss is actually a surprising blend of 20% Grauburgunder, 20% Weissburgunder and 60% Chardonnay. It sounds crazy to me, but I suppose if anyone could get away with it, it would be a winery in the warm and sunny Baden-Württemberg region. A green-yellow color, the wine started with tart fruit, giving way to a buttery, sophisticated, almost Burgundian midsection. It sealed the deal by lifting into an aromatic, spicy finish. What a ride!

2012 Dr. von Basserman-Jordan Grauburgunder Trocken: Another Pfalz wine, this Grauburgunder smelled bright and fresh, reminding me a bit of a swimming pool. On the palate, it was sprightly, sweet and green, resolving into some limey acids on the finish. Unusual and fun.

2008 Winzergenossenschaft Kallstadt Erpolzheimer Kieselberg Grauburgunder Auslese: I hereby award the prize for the longest wine name to ever appear on this blog. Only a German could come up with an overblown jumble of syllables like this. The first two words are the name of the cooperative which produced the wine, and the second two words are the name of the vineyard. This vineyard has the misfortune to be located in the Rosenbühl Grosslage, which Sotheby’s claims has “no outstanding villages, vineyards, or growers,” but I beg to differ. This Auslese was sheer delight, with aromas of green apple and spicy pineapple and marvelously rich fruit. The decadent texture didn’t become at all cloying, however, because of some incredibly lively acids and gingery spice. It had me yearning for some choucroute, and a second glass.

Keep your eyes peeled for these wines. You won’t see them everywhere, but a large wine shop may very well carry one or two, and a more ambitious restaurant wine list might also contain an example. Your hunt will be well rewarded.

While perusing the surprisingly extensive cocktail list of a hotel bar in southern Bavaria, an unusual Rusty Nail caught my eye. This classic cocktail traditionally combines Scotch whisky and Drambuie, but for this “Bavarian Rusty Nail,” the bartender utilized locally distilled single-malt whiskey and whiskey liqueur. (I use “whisky” to refer to the Scottish beverage, and “whiskey” if it’s distilled elsewhere.)

Now, I have encountered all manner of unusual German spirits, ranging from pleasant fruit brandies to noxious herbal concoctions originally intended to be medicinal. But a Bavarian single malt? I asked the bartender about it, and he had actually visited the Slyrs distillery, set in a small town on the Schliersee (Schlier Lake). This venture, conceived by Florian Stetter after a visit to Scotland’s Speyside region, began producing whiskey in earnest only recently, in 2007. But the spirit, aged in new American oak barrels, left the bartender impressed.

Intrigued, I ordered a glass of the Slyrs whiskey neat — I wanted to see what this spirit could do on its own. Because the distillery is so new, you won’t see any Slyrs whiskey older than three years, and indeed, the whiskey tasted young and brash. A light bronze color, it had a fresh, herbaceous nose with notes of vanilla. On the palate, herbs and racy spice quickly supplanted the initial caramel richness, leading into a surprisingly long finish of new wood.

Unfortunately, this fun, zesty whiskey has yet to cross the Atlantic — I couldn’t find anyone selling it in the United States. But should you happen to find yourself in Bavaria, don’t hesitate to slap on some Lederhosen and ask for a glass of Slyrs.