Sometimes I wonder if it’s all a matter of naming. Blaufränkisch, with its umlaut, three syllables, and foreign pronunciation, is always going to be a tough sell in the U.S.—at least outside the wine-nerd bubble. In Germany they call the same grape Lemberger and in Hungary they call it Kékfrankos—neither name much of an improvement to the American ear.

Therefore, I’ve often thought: Maybe what Blaufränkisch needs is a nickname. When the Austrian white grape Grüner Veltliner came on the scene in the early 2000s, many wine people called it Groo-Vee. Many people still leave off the harder-to-pronounce  “Veltliner” part and just call it “Grooner.”

This is why I sometimes refer to Blaufränkisch as “Blue Frank.” Catchy, right? Who wouldn’t want to drink an affable Blue Frank? (Yes, I know, perhaps it’s like trying to make “fetch” happen).

I mean, if it matters, it’s also based in history, geography, and linguistics. As I’ve mentioned before, Blaufränkisch literally means “blue Frankish,” dating to the age of Charlemagne—King of the Franks—when Fränkisch was a term of quality, differentiating it from things that were Heunisch (“from the Huns”), a pejorative describing anything from the eastern Slavic lands. 

In any case, I once floated the idea of the “Blue Frank” moniker to Roland Velich, of Moric winery. To be fair, he—completely uninterested in gimmicks—looked at me like I was a fool, and replied, “It’s about substance. We’re still trying to figure out what we are.” 

We were tasting exquisite Moric Blaufränkisch at Velich’s home in Großhöflein, in Burgenland, 15 minutes from the Hungarian border. “This is where the German-speaking world ends, and the Slavic world starts,” he said. “This is the end of the Alps and the beginning of the Carpathian mountains.” Burgenland was actually part of Hungary until 1922. “We are Hungarians here,” Velich said. “The most prized wines of the 19^th century were Hungarian wines. But we are playing catch up. We lost 100 years.”

Unlike other places in Austria that are focused on white wines, the higher elevation and cool microclimates of Burgenland—especially the subregion of Mittleburgenland west of Lake Neusiedl—is perfect for a red like Blaufränkisch. “It’s a very special place, but it’s not as easy to make wine here as it is in, say, Spain,” Velich said. “The next big step, of course, is to prove that Blaufränkisch can be a collectible wine.”

As Velich poured each of his exquisite Blaufränkisch, each from a different vineyard in Mittleburgenland, each one of the finest expressions of the grape, he lined the bottles on his mantle above the fireplace: the intense Reserve, full of dark, brooding spice; the big, deeply earthy Lutzmannsburg, from 100-year-old vines, like picking berries in ancient forest after a heavy rain; the decadent, ever-unfolding Neckenmarkt, from primary rock at over 1,000 feet altitude, supple and bright, with a long finish like delicate red fruits and cocoa sipped from a smooth bowl made of rare, exotic wood.

Some compare Blaufränkisch from Burgenland to cru Beaujolais or northern Rhone syrah. But when I taste older vintages, great Blaufränkisch reminds me of Nebbiolo. With the combination of juicy freshness, a savory core, surprising dark mineral notes like hot asphalt on a summer day, and beautiful aromas of rose petals, they could easily fool a lot of Barolo aficionados.

Besides Moric, look for Blaufränkisch from other great Burgenland producers such as Markus Altenburger, Claus Preisinger, Heinrich, Nittnaus, Wachter-Wiesler, Weninger, Kolfok, as well as famed natural-wine names like Christian Tschida, Judith Beck, and Gut Oggau. As a region, Burgenland is a worldwide leader in organic, biodynamic, and sustainable winegrowing.

One of the most memorable Blaufränkisch I ever tasted was from Christian Tschida. Tschida and I were eating at a country inn across the street from his house. We sat outside and looked across the vineyards at Lake Neusiedl and ate fried chicken and potato salad and drank his Blaufränkisch.

At first, it was reminiscent of Nebbiolo (or Syrah, or Gamay). But as it opened up, I realized that  Blaufränkisch is something entirely different. It was as if we were tasting a grape from further back in time. In the dark, we could see the outline of an old stone well, and beyond that, reeds on the lake softly undulating in the breeze. “You know, as this century rolls on, with all our technological changes, wine like this will be the only real thing that still exists,” Tschida told me. “I really believe this. Wine won’t change. The real thing will still have to exist, just like in ancient times.”

That’s all pretty poetic, and gets at the heart of why people love wine. But I still think Blaufränkisch could use a little help over here in the prosaic American market. That’s why I’m still trying to make Blue Frank happen. Give it a chance, people.

Betting on Blaufränkisch

2021 Weninger Say (N/A)

Brooding, brambly Blaufränkisch from this biodynamic producer. On the nose it’s full of tarragon, marjoram, and black pepper. Great structure, with dark ripe fruit, but good freshness, and a long finish. Hard to find in the U.S., but worth seeking.

2022 Markus Altenburger ‘Vom Kalk’ ($24)

“Vom kalk” means “from limestone,” and this Blaufränkisch comes from Leithaberg’s soils rich in—well, you can probably guess. Earthy and floral on the nose, with a zingy, happy palate of juicy, tart berry and cherry.

2021 Alex & Maria Koppitsch ‘Perspektive’ Rot ($26)

This natty Blaufränkisch comes from near Lake Neusiedl, but is bottled outside the appellation. Cloudy garnet in color, with aromas of berries, violets, and forest floor. On the palate it’s earthy and crunchy, with juicy notes of cranberry and cherry tomato.

2022 Markus Altenburger ‘Cric’ ($27)

This wine is both natty and elegant in the best way possible. Beautiful, deep, earthy and floral nose, with flavors of wild blackberry and raspberry, black cherry, and blood orange. Will appeal to northern Rhône fans, and is an amazing value for the price.

2021 Nittnaus “Elektra” ($30)

Elegant, velvety and dark, with lots of ripe black cherry and plum. Super drinkable, and a lovely Blaufränkisch at a good price.

2019 Heinrich Leithaberg Blaufränkisch ($30)

Mineral-driven Blaufränkisch: floral, earthy, with great juicy red and black fruit, and underlying pepper and forest floor notes. Complex, and good length.

2019 Kolfok Güterweg Neckenmarkter ($35)

Serious Blaufränkisch from three vineyard sites—one rich in limestone, one rich in slate, and one rich in granite. Fifteen percent whole cluster, and aged for 18 months in a 1200-liter barrel. Bright and elegant, with great minerality. Great fruit and an underlying earthiness, with licorice, pepper, and herb.

2022 Moric Blaufränkisch Burgenland ($34)

This is Moric’s “entry-level” from “younger vines” (10 to 50 years old) that punches well above its weight. A blend of grapes from prestigious Neckenmarkt and Lutzmannsburg vineyards, it’s fermented in open vats and steel tank. Elegant and drinkable, with notes of blackberry, pepper, black tea, and

2023 Gut Oggau ‘Atanasius’ ($40)

Sometimes an introduction to Blaufrankisch comes in a blend, such as this one blended with Zweigelt. Gut Oggau has been a natural-wine darling for a while now, and this is one of their flagship reds. Earthy, fruity aromas of forest and wild berry on the nose, with a juicy, crunchy palate with lively acidity. made without fining, filtration, or added sulfur.

2023 Christian Tschida Birdscape Pink ($45)

Is this a rosé or a light red? Honestly, who cares. Tschida’s “pink maceration” wine—a blend of Blaufränkisch, Pinot Noir, and some white varieties—has become one of my recent favorites. This is the dictionary definition of the wine term “crunchy.” Savory, spicy, with notes of dill, tarragon, forest floor, cranberry, pomegranate, and rhubarb. Simply a delightful wine.

2019 Kolfok Whole Bunch Blaufrankisch ($45)

Stefan Wellanschitz’s star has been rising over the past decade at Kolfok, his family's estate in Neckenmarkt. He only made one barrel of this experimental bottling that will appeal to whole-bunch aficionados. An interesting expression of the grape that’s got subtle fruit, with super herbal, floral, and tea notes.

2020 Wachter Wiesler Eisenberg Ried Weinberg ($47)

Single vineyard wine made from Wachter Wiesler’s oldest vines, around 50 years old, and aged in a single 2,300-liter barrel. Cool, mineral, almost Nebbiolo-like. Powerful and full bodied, with notes of forest, wild berry, licorice and tobacco. Beautiful wine to drink now, or hold for several years.

2020 Wachter Wiesler Eisenberg Ried Ratschen ($63)

Dense, intense, and serious, aged 30 months in large old barrels. Fruitier than the Weinberg bottling, but also brings more dark minerality, grippy tannins, and a cool graphite finish. This is one to cellar for a decade or more.

2021 Moric Alte Reben Lutzmannsburg ($145)

One of Austria’s greatest, and most ageworthy, red wines. From 80- to 100-year-old vines in one of Burgenland’s top vineyard sites, this is an ambitious, serious, and gorgeous bottle that shows Blaufränkisch can stand next to the top wines of the world. Fragrant, perfumed nose of wild herb, cherry, wet stone, a hint of smoke. On the palate, it’s bright and crunchy, but refined, elegant, and complex, with lots of fresh red fruit, hints of licorice and tobacco, profound at the midpalate and a long, long finish. An incredible wine.