Sometimes, things do not need to be famous, or celebrated, to be good. Indeed occasionally, the best.
And so it is here. I don’t think I would be going out on too much of a limb to suggest that Lindenburg is the greatest Lagrein produced, and that certainly Alois Lageder - a gentleman who defines erudition and pioneered biodynamics in his homeland - is one of the best winemakers of his place and time. In the unassuming and quiet way that true greatness often has, tempered by (misplaced but delightful) humility, Alois seems far more interested in what you think of his wines, than he is of telling what he does.
Lagrein is an almost exclusively local grape, in a tangled familial relationship with the nearby (but to my mind lesser) Teroldego, it is dense and brooding. Syrah and Malbec like, but it nevertheless has an Italian-ness somehow. mainly the beguiling cherry thing that seemingly many Italian reds have in common. Here it is sappy black cherries, lip-smacking and fresh. Intertwined with sweet and sour spices, pepper, smoke, and I hardly dare say it because Alois is an avowed vegetarian, bill-tong (sweet, salty, umami-rich and textured). It belies its age, but is in a sweet spot now for sure.
It’s delicious and has well rewarded the twelve years that I have kept it for reasons unknown, other than that today is yet another one of ‘those days’. I was delighted to find it in the wine fridge. And I am just as delighted to drink it now.