Michi Lorenz - Supernova 2020

We move from Burgenland last week one wine-growing region further to the south-east of Austria, because today we’re drinking Styria. More precisely Südsteiermark, near the border with Slovenia, even more precisely, the Sausal. Slate shapes the soils of the hills here, which after all rise up to 600 metres above sea level. Instinctively I’d call that low mountain range, but in all honesty I don’t have the slightest idea what the exact definition of a low mountain range is. Since the 17th century, the Lorenz family has been making wine in this area. Michi Lorenz, the current Lorenz generation, can therefore look back on an impressive tradition. Not necessarily what you’d expect when you look at the bottle with a label somewhere between Rorschach test and tie-dye guy in the photo. That much rather loudly screams career change with half a hectare or something like that. In fact it’s around 16 hectares that Michi Lorenz farms, who took over the helm in 2019. So 2020 is only his second full vintage.

That great Natural and long tradition don’t have to be mutually exclusive, we’ve known at the latest since the wines from Staffelter Hof. And Natural, too, is in this bottle along with all the estate’s tradition. The Morillon grapes, around here we call that Chardonnay, grow, as mentioned, on a mix of grey and red slate. This is followed by time on the skins and ageing in wooden barrels before the wine is bottled without sulphur and without any other intervention either.

Orange and I, that’s not exactly a love story, and the little bits of yeast residue and whatever else that are doing their laps in the glass inspire noticeably greater enthusiasm across the table than they do in me. Between unfiltered and unfiltered, there’s quite a lot of room. But really Orange, no, it doesn’t look really Orange either. The colour isn’t Orange at all, sure, it’s cloudy, but still surprisingly pale. The first sniff then quickly shows where the journey is headed. It smells the way the label looks. And I don’t mean that in the least bit disparagingly.

It smells of lemonade without the sweetness, of smoke, of nut, and of a fruit somewhere between yellow and orange. Hehe, orange. You taste smoke and orange then, too. How much Chardonnay is still in the Chardonnay is not a discussion I’m going to have. Technically correct it’s 100%, and we all know that’s the best kind of correct. It feels tonic, fresh with lots of drive and then tannin behind it. It’s wild and clean at the same time and thus manages the razor’s-edge ride that, for me, makes brilliant Orange. Because really I don’t even like that all that much, but then I do want another sip, and then another, and why not, and bam the glass is empty. The acidity brings massive pressure into the glass, and it, too, manages that balancing act so that I genuinely keep drinking it with pleasure. The longer you rinse the wine over your tongue, the clearer it becomes, the cleaner, and the more the tannin recedes into the background. But the acidity also pulls the saliva out of your cheeks long after you’ve swallowed. That’s really good. Fascinating.

The second evening is even less fruity. More spice, more structure. But overall the wine has hardly changed, which is somehow astonishing for a five-year-old natural wine. Even in this price bracket they tend to fall apart. Not this one here. The smoke is still there, it’s more austere, with even more drive, if that’s even possible. That really gives zing right in the middle of the tongue. In my ear meanwhile it echoes pomelo, no, kumquat, no, pomelo. I can go along with that, even if I don’t like eating either one. The bitter austerity with that pull on the tongue is a brilliant combination. Maybe not the easiest combination, but certainly a brilliant one.

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