Weingut Bernhard Huber, 'Breisgau'

There are wines that from the first smell you can tell are truly great, and I did not expect this wine to perform the way it did. A close friend of mine, Rajat Parr, once leaned over a glass and said, “It smells like Coche, but it’s not Coche.” He was talking about Jean-François Coche-Dury, one of the greatest Chardonnay producers on earth, whose bottles now trade for thousands.

When I put my nose into the 2022 Bernard Huber “Breisgau,” that same haunting, reductive, limestone-charged perfume rose from the glass. I looked up at the importer and said, “What the F*&^?” He just smiled: “Yeah… this guy is on fire. Burgundy collectors are quietly piling in.”

Something nearly indescribable happens when old vines rooted in limestone are farmed with biodiversity — sheep grazing between rows, organic methods, deep roots pulling from ancient soils — and then handled with exacting precision in the cellar. The result is that elusive Burgundian electricity. This is easily one of the greatest whites I’ve tasted under $50. Around the world, a following is forming because Huber delivers a tasting experience that in Burgundy would cost four to five times more. And here’s the twist: this isn’t Chardonnay. How he achieves this is part vineyard, part obsession, part genius. He hit this out of the park.

Germany is often reduced in the American mind to Riesling, but the country is far more complex. There are thirteen official quality regions — the “Anbaugebiete” — including Mosel, Rheingau, Pfalz, Nahe, and, critically here, the Baden.

Baden stretches along Germany’s southwestern border, soaking up more sunshine than any other German region. It is the warmest, and in many ways the most Burgundian — especially in the Breisgau sector near the Kaiserstuhl, where limestone ridges shape the identity of the wines. The village of Malterdingen, Huber’s home, sits just east of those hills. Julian Huber calls it “The Burgundy Door.” Taste this wine and you understand exactly what he means.

Bernhard Huber was known as the “German Godfather of Pinot Noir.” When he took over the family estate in Malterdingen, he refused to sell fruit to the local co-op — a radical decision at the time — and instead committed to estate bottling, inspired by Burgundy’s terroir-first philosophy. He imported Burgundian clones, planted at extremely high densities (often 10,000 vines per hectare or more), and drove yields down to microscopic levels. The concentration and clarity that resulted changed German Pinot forever.

After Bernhard’s untimely passing in 2014, his son Julian Huber stepped into enormous shoes. Educated in Germany and trained in Burgundy, Julian blends reverence with precision. The estate farms organically, integrates sheep for natural vineyard management, and treats its old vines as living inheritance. Fermentations are spontaneous. Whites are pressed with a traditional vertical press to preserve aromatics and fine phenolics. Aging takes place in 228-liter barrique (primarily Damy), and the wines are bottled unfiltered after careful rackings.

The “Breisgau” white is centered on Weissburgunder (Pinot Blanc) and Grauburgunder (Pinot Gris) — grapes genetically linked to Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. On limestone soils and in Julian’s hands, they transcend expectation. The wine carries that subtle reductive edge, crushed stone minerality, and tensile structure that evokes top Côte d’Or whites — yet it remains distinctly Baden. This is not imitation. It’s making the best possible wine from this place, with discipline and conviction.

In the glass, the 2022 “Breisgau” shows a pale gold core with flashes of green at the rim. The nose is electric: flint, struck match, lemon oil, orchard pear, white peach skin, and a chalky depth that feels almost saline. With air, hazelnut, chamomile, and a faint wisp of smoke unfold.

On the palate, it is medium-bodied but tightly coiled — driven by acidity, layered with stone fruit and citrus zest, framed by a fine phenolic grip that gives structure without weight. The finish lingers on limestone and subtle spice. It tastes expensive. It tastes intentional. It tastes like someone obsessed over every detail.

Pair it the way they would in Baden: Black Forest trout with brown butter and almonds, pork schnitzel with lemon, creamy käsespätzle, or white asparagus with hollandaise in spring. It also shines with roast chicken, Dungeness crab, or classic sole meunière.

Serve it in large Burgundy stems at 50–55°F, give it a few minutes of air, and watch it unfold.

This is the Burgundy Door. And right now, it’s wide open.