Shishir Baxi writes Shishir is an advertising professional based in Dubai, with a passion for storytelling. A WSET Level 2 certificate holder and fluent French speaker, he writes a weekly wine blog called The Second Pour, aimed at demystifying wine for consumers in India and Southeast Asia. Shishir believes wine is less about prestige and more about discovery—and he is drawn to its power to evoke memory, place, and emotion. Shishir prefers wines—and stories—that linger on the nose, the tongue, and somewhere just beyond language. He likes new varieties, but also cherishes storied vintages that make the wine world compelling
Monsoon diaries with Riesling
The monsoon in India has its own cadence, notes, and emotions. There aren’t many things as elemental and all-consuming as the first crack of the Indian monsoon.
It’s not just the weather—it’s a reckoning. The monsoon in India (June – September) feeds 1.4 billion people, replenishes rivers, floods WhatsApp chats, and puts an end to both mango season and political metaphors about drought. Everything waits for it. Everything bends to it.
The dry-baked earth holds its breath. Then: thunder, the long, rolling kind that seems to summon memory itself. Dust turns to petrichor. Mango trees sag with relief. Street dogs rediscover puddles. Dowager-ish ladies in cotton saris sigh into their chai. And somewhere, inevitably, someone starts singing an old monsoon song—melancholy and just off-key enough to feel real.
‘tis not the time for Chardonnay.
Or for Syrah’s smouldering stare. The monsoon in India demands something nimbler. Quicker on the tongue. A grape variety that dances between raindrops, peers out from behind a curtain, then flits back as lightning forks across the sky.
Hello fellow oenophile, meet Riesling—monsoon’s understated accomplice.
The rain grape
Ever wondered why no one ever wrote a poem to Pinot Grigio? It does the job efficiently. But the monsoon is not about efficiency—it’s about glistening emotion. Crashing, chaotic, cleansing. A time, paradoxically, for slow, relaxed afternoons and fried foods deemed unhealthy in other seasons.
Riesling, in this operatic context, makes complete sense.
Its naturally high acidity acts like a squeeze of lime on a vada pav (spicy potato fritter bun, popular in the city of Mumbai – the largest wine market in India). Its range—dry to lusciously sweet—is a monsoon playlist in itself: from light preludes to emotional crescendos. Its notes, ranging from green apple to lime zest, honeysuckle, petrol if you're lucky, mirror the changing moods of the season.
It is, quite simply, rain in a bottle.
Monsoon and terroir
Before the purists (those well-meaning but starchy “experts”) start spluttering into their Zaltos, yes, I know: Riesling has what I call terroir mood swings. Mosel sings a fragile aria, Clare Valley goes full lemon-lime soprano, and Alsace—bless it—likes to stretch out into something richer, a bit baroque, like an ageing diva in flowing silk and a voice to match.
And yet all of them strike a chord with the Indian monsoon in their own way.
Take a young Kabinett from the Mosel. Light, slightly off-dry, nervy. Pair it with Mumbai’s heaving rains and a plate of onion bhajias (crispy, spicy onion fritters), and you’ll see what I mean. The sweetness of the wine tempers the spice of the food. The acidity cuts the oil. The rain carries both on its back like a devoted sherpa.
Or go to Eden Valley in Australia. More citrus, more minerality, steel in its spine. It’s the Riesling equivalent of listening to a clear, haunting melody drifting through the rain – achingly, heartbreakingly pure.
Even the noble, richer styles—bonjour, Grand Cru Alsace—have their place in this moist melodrama. With a bowl of beguni (crispy, spiced fried aubergine slices topped with finely chopped tomatoes and onions, popular in Eastern India), the texture, the spice, the citrus oil all come together like a good Beckett play: layered with contrasts and deliciously intense - where rain and silence share the stage, and you’re never sure if it’s a cleansing or a divine curse.
Heavenly monsoon pairings
Here is a partial list of things that get fried in India during the monsoon:
- Samosas – deep-fried savoury pastry triangles
- Pakoras – gram-flour battered fried bites
- Fish cutlets – spiced, crumb-coated fish patties
- Vadas – lentil-based savoury doughnuts
- Random leftover vegetables that no one wanted to eat yesterday
Now try Riesling with each. Seriously. Not just any Riesling, mind you—go by mood.
Light drizzle outside? A Trocken, dry and brisk. The kind of wine that doesn’t need to announce itself, just quietly fine tunes everything on your plate.
Sideways rain? Treat yourself to a Spätlese. Slightly sweet, comforting, expressive. The wine equivalent of dry, warm socks.
And when the heavens go full Tarkovsky—epic, brooding, endless—reach for an aged Riesling. One that has a whisper of ripe apricot and wet stone, and tastes like memory. Have it with vegetable pulao (fragrant spiced rice with vegetables) and mango pickle. Thank me later.
A colonial hangover
For reasons best left to colonial history and post-colonial trauma, India never quite built a wine culture in sync with its weather. Heavy reds are sold as “premium.” Crisp whites are seen as lightweights. And Riesling? Poor thing! Often mistaken for sugary plonk or mispronounced as “Rice-ling” by well-meaning but clueless salespeople at duty-free counters.
But this is changing.
The Indian beverage scene is now zippier, savvier, less colonially burdened. Riesling is making its way to tasting menus and home bars. It’s the quiet drumroll of thunder, low and steady, over a cloud of Cabernet.
Riesling is no pushover. It may look like the featherweight at the party, but it’s got nerve, backbone, and the kind of ageing potential that would make most reds weep into their barrels. It doesn’t need to shout.
Elevating the mood, a drop at a time
The monsoon in India isn’t just a weather event—it’s a national emotion. You don’t survive it. You submit to it.
In this lush, slippery landscape, wine is rarely invited to the party. It’s too “continental,” too unsure of its place among steam and spice where hops ruled!
But Riesling fits in like an old song on a new speaker. It bridges worlds. It doesn’t argue with the chutneys. It nods respectfully to the rain.
So, here’s a cool proposal: this monsoon, skip the whisky, cancel the Malbec, and pour yourself a glass of chilled, defiant Riesling. Let the rain do what it does best.
And let the grape steal the show.
Image by diane555 via iStock.
