After the big batch of wines we drank here during August, September’s selection is somewhat smaller, but I hope the ten wines I have chosen are as interesting as ever. Part One is made up of five wines, the first two of which are from Czechia (or the Czech Republic, if you prefer). We then travel to Switzerland’s Chablais, Alsace and, finally, Baden.

Solar Red 2022, Petr Koráb (Moravia, Czechia)

Petr is someone who makes a regular appearance here, and those of you who have tried to buy this wonderful young Boleradice producer’s wines will have come up against one slight problem. He often creates cuvées as one-offs, so like some of the wines I’ve praised before, the likelihood of this wine being repeated next year is slim. However, in this case, at the time of writing his UK importer does actually have some stock left. If, like me, this wine appeals to you, don’t be put off buying it because winter is coming. For me, it’s one I’m glad I didn’t miss.

Petr wanted to make a pale red wine for summer and he’s succeeded many times over. The blend is three varieties, Pinot Noir, Karmazin (a local synonym for Frankovka/Blaufränkisch) and Zweigelt, whole bunches, a spontaneous natural fermentation, and no additives (including no sulphur). This is a bright and clean wine with a little sediment but no cloudiness.

It smells of ripe summer fruits, but more like an ice cream than just the pure fruit, and it tastes like a strawberry and cherry-flavoured white wine because of its summery acids and just a hint of mineral grip. The finish has an equally tiny hint of earthiness, but its basically fruit all the way. This was delicious on a hot day, chilled of course, but it might easily brighten up the dark evenings when the clocks go back (or the promised October heat wave arrives). It will also provide a perfect accompaniment to spring, when it arrives, if you tuck it away. Especially at 11% abv.

£23 from Basket Press Wines.

Ryzlink Vlašský 2018, Syfany Winery (Moravia, Czechia)

This is my first wine from Syfany, newly arrived in the UK, and what a great introduction it was. Syfany is based in the Moravian village of Vrbice, with vines also at nearby Velké Bílovice. Winemaking in the family goes back five hundred years. The current incumbents are Jakub Zborovský and his wife, Kája, who both make the wine.

Viticulture is organic, moving towards more “natural wine” practices. As the largest producer on Basket Press Wines’ portfolio (there are 36-ha of vines on a larger agricultural farm of around 400-hectares), they may not be quite as boutique as some, but they are able to make reasonable quantities of wines which, at least for now, are remarkably good value. They also age many of their wines in acacia barrels made from local forests.

The variety here is none other than Welschriesling, its Czech name not too dissimilar to the Laski Riesling once imported from the former Yugoslavia and still to be found in at least one major UK supermarket today. That wine is often off-dry and not necessarily a wine to suit the palate of anyone reading this article. This Czech version shows what a bit of bottle age can achieve in a carefully made (and dry) wine. It shows the class you can find in some Austrian examples.

Waxed lemon, salinity, mineral and floral sum it up. There’s a nice bitter, herbal, touch which is a counterpoint to the wine’s creamy mouthfeel. Above this rides citrus acidity. Altogether the balance is very good. The bonus is that it’s £18 (from Basket Press Wines). There’s a whole range from Syfany to choose from, some being sold out, but I wish I’d also bought “Just Red” after a few comments made to me, and both that and this Welschriesling are still available.

Aigle Les Murailles 2021, Henri Badoux (Chablais, Switzerland)

We are out of the territory of natural wine here, and looking at a wine of which I’m told around a million bottles are made each vintage. I don’t know if that is really true, but it is also asserted that the “green lizard” is the most recognised wine label within Switzerland. There’s a red version (and apparently a Rosé and a sparkling) these days, but for a long time, Badoux’s best-selling “Les Murailles” has been a pretty good benchmark Chasselas.

First, the name. Badoux have somehow managed to keep Aigle on the label. Aigle is a beautiful village with a famous castle which probably doesn’t make a million bottles of wine, but it does have a vineyard called “Les Murailles”, these being the stones which support its terraces, trapping and radiating the sun’s warmth and creating an environment warm enough for lizards to bask on. So it’s more a brand.

The appellation for this wine is Chablais, within which you will find the village of Aigle, but Chablais (nothing to do with Chablis) basically occupies that part of the Vaud Canton which follows the right bank of the Rhône as it flows northwest, from Martigny (in the Valais) up towards Lac Léman and the terraces of Lavaux.

It is equally true that the Badoux family no longer owns Henri Badoux SA, although I’m told they are still involved to some degree. The owner today is called Schenk, a large Swiss wine company.

All this perhaps seems framed a little negatively, except you all know by now that I don’t bother to write about wines I don’t like. You see, it’s a classic Vaud Chasselas in the best sense. I mean Dom Pérignon has a similarly large production and no one says that’s crap! Dry, herbal, and slightly floral on its bouquet, it shows stone fruits and a touch of minerality, with a carbon dioxide prickle just evident on the tongue.

It has weight too. The 13% abv here makes it seem very different to some of the thinner Chasselas you get sometimes from the gentle slopes of the Western Vaud, towards Geneva. A 2021 vintage, it is still quite youthful, but I think the freshness is a good thing, but do note that this wine is capable of ageing well. Alpine Wines may have, certainly did, some back vintages.

It’s just a shame that Swiss wine has to cost an arm and a leg, and this was £35 from The Solent Cellar. Their web site says they have the 2020, but I’m pretty sure my bottle was ’21. Alpine Wines is the importer, selling the 2021 for a little bit more. It’s still not too much to pay to try a benchmark Vaud Chasselas (those from the so-called crus of Lavaux can cost a lot more). At more than £43 the red version is a big ask which even I have only bought once, in the cause of research.

La Petite Lanterne [2020], Du Vin Aux Liens (Alsace, France)

This disgorged pétnat is another wine made under the Du Vin Aux Liens label, a collaboration between Vanessa Letort (ex-Binner/Les Pirouettes) and Domaine Albert Hertz in Eguisheim. The Hertz domaine covers 9.5-hectares of vines which are on a journey, under Albert’s son Frédéric, from a sympathetic form of biodynamic viticulture and winemaking towards natural wine. Since he effectively took over in 2013 the estate has gained Biodyvin Classification, having already achieved “AB” and Demeter under Albert. Frédéric is bringing his experience of biodynamics in New Zealand to this family domaine in one of Alsace’s prettiest villages.

La Petite Lanterne is a blend of Chardonnay, Pinot Blanc, Riesling and Muscat, co-fermented with one year on lees in stainless steel before a second fermentation in bottle. Unlike many pétnats, this was disgorged to remove almost all the sediment (there are a few yeast cells, partly down to the post-disgorgement ageing, maybe?). I believe that this is a “nothing added” wine, presumably meaning zero added sulphur.

The bouquet is distinctly floral but the palate shows fruit like peach and plum with a little spice. The sparkle is on the gentle side, and I believe this has always been so, not just because it has seen a bit of bottle age, which I must say has not done it any harm. Although I often find pétnats in the racks that I haven’t drunk from the previous vintage, nine times out of ten with no detrimental effect, I did buy this bottle this year. I think Made from Grapes in Glasgow still has some, £24.50.

Rouge 2019, Max Sein Wein (Baden, Germany)

I liked Max Baumann’s wines from the first bottle, but I’m getting to appreciate them even more as I get the opportunity to try them with a bit more bottle age. Max has around 3.5-ha in a decidedly unfashionable part (for some) of Baden, at Dertingen (off the A8 between Karlsruhe and Stuttgart. If Max has two things going for him, they are very well sited vineyards (mostly shell limestone with yellow/red sandstone) and the time he spent at Gut Oggau. The Gut Oggau philosophy is so “lived” there in Burgenland that it rubs off on everyone who works with them, in whatever capacity.

Max has far more Pinot Meunier planted than Pinot Noir, and he makes excellent wine from this supposedly second-string variety. This red is mostly Meunier with a little Pinot Noir. I last drank this vintage a little over a years ago, after release. It was fresh and smooth, very fruity on bouquet and palate. With an extra year it has evolved into something more autumnal, more ethereal. It’s delicate without being weak or thin. It has changed in the way Pinot Noir might, yet I think you might guess this is Meunier if you stop to think. Whatever it has done, it has done it perhaps sooner than a Pinot Noir might.

Of course, we know this is a natural wine and it does have a certain stripped bare quality, and what I guess people call “purity” (nothing covering up any part of it). Its subtlety suits the mood when the season changes. Basket Press Wines import into the UK but don’t currently seem to list the Rouge. I think the next vintage may be in soon. It was £29. Anyone in France, Feral Art et Vins in Bordeaux lists the 2020 for 24€.