The Most Ephemeral of Wines. . .

Did you know that Beaujolais Nouveau is not the first wine of the season? Weeks before those familiar bottles arrive in November, across parts of Europe the new vintage is already being poured - cloudy, fizzy, slightly sweet and still actively fermenting. It is wine caught somewhere between freshly pressed grape juice and the finished vintage, and you have only a brief window to drink it.

In Germany, it is called Federweißer; in Austria, Sturm; in the Czech Republic, burčák; and in France, vin bourru. Freshly pressed grape must begins fermenting, yeast gets to work converting sugar into alcohol and carbon dioxide, and somewhere along the way people decided that this particular stage was far too delicious to wait out. The resulting wine is fresh, lightly alcoholic, often sweet and gently fizzy, with yeast still suspended in the glass. This year, the first grapes of Germany's unusually early 2026 harvest were picked in August specifically for Federweißer. Austria takes Sturm seriously enough that it can legally be sold only while it is still fermenting, and Czech law protects the name burčák and limits its sales season. France is on the calendar for October 17 and 18, as Nuits-Saint-Georges will celebrate its 38th Fête du Vin Bourru, gathering beneath the town's Halles around what the organizers call the first wine of the harvest.

This lovely tradition has crossed the Atlantic as well; a handful of American wineries make their own versions. From the Fingers Lake to California to Virginia, a handful of wineries partake of this old tradition; Oregon's Wetzel Estate is planning its Federweisser Festival again this year, but as of the end of August, even the date cannot be set - the winery is waiting for harvest to begin before it knows exactly when the wine will be ready.

Like so many things in wine, follow the trail back far enough and history and literature begin to appear, and this beverage's literary connection does not disappoint. Federweißer found its way into the Deutsches Wörterbuch, the monumental German dictionary begun by the Brothers Grimm of fairy-tale fame in the 19th century. In France, writer and screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière, who was born into a winegrowing family in Colombières-sur-Orb in the Hérault, chose Le Vin bourru as the title of his 2000 memoir about his childhood and the rural world he remembered. An unfinished wine as the title of a book about memory feels particularly fitting and very French; both belong to a place and a moment that cannot quite be recreated.

Happily, there is food involved. In Germany, Federweißer is traditionally enjoyed with Zwiebelkuchen, a savory onion tart; in Austria, Sturm finds its way to the table with the breads, cheeses, spreads and heartier foods of the Heuriger (wine tavern). Vin bourru has its own rustic companions in France. These aren't wines that require an elaborate pairing or a special occasion. They belong to harvest, cooler evenings and a table full of people.

Perhaps my favorite part is that you cannot really save one. Even the German Wine Institute's instructions for enjoying Federweißer acknowledge just how fleeting it is. Ideally, they suggest drinking it about halfway between grape juice and wine, when it has reached around 5% alcohol and sweetness, acidity and alcohol are in balance. If yours is still too sweet, leave it at room temperature and taste it again in six to eight hours; when it reaches the balance you like, put it in the refrigerator. The bottle itself cannot be tightly sealed because fermentation continues to produce carbon dioxide and needs somewhere to escape. The Federweißer you bring home in the afternoon may quite literally be different by evening.

We talk a great deal about rarity in the wine world - DRC, Napa cult Cabernet and bottles so coveted that most wine lovers may never taste them. Yet the most ephemeral of wines isn't necessarily the rarest or most expensive. It is a wine truly of a moment and a place - it can't be bottled away to age and is nearly never quite the same. You cannot tuck a bottle into the cellar and revisit it in ten years because, by then, the thing you wanted to preserve would be long gone.

For a few weeks around harvest, you simply drink it while it is here. What a delightful way to be in the moment and in the season. It makes me think of Kurt Vonnegut's quote, “If this isn't nice, what is?” Now, please excuse me as I attempt to convince some local winemakers to make some for me, so I can enjoy it with a savory onion tart.

Cheers to Harvest Season!