I'm very lucky that my husband spent time in Germany way back in the 1970s as a U.S. Air Force Sargent. I was still in junior high school dreaming of my Prince Charming. Little did I know that at this time he was finding his way around Berlin and learning about German wines, which he would later share with me.

When he first introduced me to the world of German wines, I really has no clue about wine in general. Heck, I didn't even know they made wine in Germany. I thought it all came from France or California. Silly me. But, there's nothing like the light sweetness of these wines, and they are still some of my favorites.

I'm not alone in my appreciation of German wines, and I loved reading this wonderful article by Beppi Crosariol about her thoughts on riesling:

You can't always tell when a great dinner party is in the offing, but sometimes there are reliable signs. Like when your host calls up earlier in the day to solicit advice on what wine to serve with foie gras. Or when she calls to ask whether you have any allergies to caviar or white truffles.

Another promising sign, in my experience, is when the evening kicks off with an aperitif of German riesling.

Familiarity with riesling, especially underappreciated German riesling, is a hallmark of culinary urbanity. You have to be passionate about the finer things in life to bother learning how to decode confounding German wine labels (unless, of course, you grew up in the Mosel or Rhine valleys). And it takes a sophisticated palate to grasp that German riesling is an ideal opening act for a multicourse meal, tickling the taste buds with its sweet-tart balance and uncommon fusion of low alcohol with immense complexity. There's no federal law against starting a long dinner with a big Aussie shiraz, but it's kind of like starting with bangers and mash: There's nowhere to go from there except cheese or dessert.