The estate sits about twelve minutes from the centre of Wrocław, in the southwest corner of Poland, roughly 200 kilometres east of the Saxon wine region and 200 kilometres north of the Moravian vineyards of the Czech Republic. It is close enough to a major city to draw visitors easily, and far enough from established wine country that nobody told Esben Madsen how things were supposed to be done.
That suited him well. Madsen came to winemaking sideways, through a career that took in oceanography in Southampton, a second master's degree in offshore and ocean technology at Cranfield University, a recession that left no jobs in wind energy, and six years at a climate change NGO in London helping companies with green accounting. None of it pointed obviously toward Lower Silesia. And yet here he is, on a granite plateau with horses in the fields and Riesling on the vine.
Winnica Silesian was founded in 2016 by the Mazurak family, with Esben joining as winemaker. The winery takes its name and much of its identity from the Silesian horses that the Mazurak family has bred for five generations. Every bottle carries a horse aesthetic. The horses are still on the farm.
Nobody Was Building Windmills
Ask Esben Madsen what he would do if he were not making wine and the answer reveals exactly how he ended up here. He would probably, he says, be modelling the overturning circulation of the Atlantic Ocean or researching the carbon uptake of the sea. He studied oceanography, then offshore and ocean technology, with the intention of working in wave energy or wind power. Then the 2008 recession arrived.
I was so lucky to graduate during the big recession. Nobody was building windmills.
— Esben Madsen, Winnica SilesianInstead he spent six years at a climate change NGO in London. The path to Poland and to wine came later, through Sonia and her family's farm. The winemaker he credits most directly with shaping his approach is Michał Pajdosz of Winnica Jakubów, who helped him and Sonia through their first vintage. "He had a very science-based approach as well, but also relied on a lot of intuition and gut instinct," Madsen says. It was a combination that spoke to someone trained in data and models, but who was learning, slowly and not always willingly, to accept what he could not measure.
Control Is an Illusion
Madsen describes himself as a recovering control freak. The science background gave him the vocabulary and the instinct to plan, measure and optimise. Winemaking in a region as climatically volatile as Lower Silesia has spent the past several years dismantling that instinct.
Nature shows you that control is an illusion. You can plan and plan, but nature can throw a spanner in the works. You're never completely in control. You have to bend to its will.
— Esben MadsenThe vintages at Winnica Silesian have been a masterclass in variability. The first two, 2018 and 2019, were exceptionally hot. 2020 was a disaster: cold, wet, a summer that produced grapes with acidity sharp enough, as Madsen puts it, "to shave off the enamel" from your teeth. They made sparkling wine that year. 2021, 2022 and 2023 were progressively better. Then 2024 brought a spring frost in April that left the estate with five percent of normal production. The seasons are shifting earlier, he says. February brought eighteen degrees. March was cold. April was warm. The vines woke up. Then the frost came back.
Granite, PIWIs and a Family Farm
Winnica Silesian farms 10.5 hectares on a granite substrate, with granite coming straight to the surface in parts of the vineyard. The planting is dominated by PIWIs: ten disease-resistant varieties, with just two Vitis vinifera. It is a pragmatic choice for a region where disease pressure is real and organic conversion is ongoing. The PIWI blocks are close to receiving organic certification. The Riesling will follow.
The division of labour at the estate has evolved organically. Jak, Sonia's father, manages the viticulture, drawing on a lifetime of farming experience and a network of advisors from Poland and Germany. Madsen focuses on the cellar. Sonia works across winemaking and communications, alongside her sister Marisha [CHECK: correct spelling], who handles promotion and direct sales.
I'm terrified of horses. I've been galloped, thrown, kicked. I just have a healthy respect.
— Esben MadsenThe horses, which feature prominently in the estate's visual identity, are not pulling ploughs. Their role is more symbolic: a connection to the Mazurak family's five generations of Silesian horse breeding, and a visual language that sets Winnica Silesian apart from almost every other winery in Poland.
A Late Harvest Riesling That Nearly Didn't Exist
The second wine poured during the interview was born from a decision to leave some Riesling on the vine at the end of the 2023 harvest. The grapes were not harvested until January 2024, by which point they had been botrytised and reduced to raisins. What followed was, by Madsen's account, one of the most technically challenging things he has attempted.
The wine was basically black from mould. Getting the carbon out took forever. The filter plates kept breaking and black stuff went back into the wine. It was incredibly frustrating.
— Esben MadsenSonia pushed him to keep going. The result is a late harvest Riesling at 10 to 11 percent alcohol with 127 grams of residual sugar and 11.4 grams of acidity: quince, apple cider, something toasty. A wine they have never made before and may not make again for some time. "She's the brains," Madsen says of his wife. "I might do the grunt work."
Polish Wine Tourism and the Next Five Years
Poland has around 700 wineries and 1,000 hectares under vine, and the sector is growing. Wine tourism has accelerated since the pandemic made people look more seriously at what was happening within their own borders. Winnica Silesian has been a beneficiary: events with Polish chefs, private parties, a wine bar under development on the estate. The proximity to Wrocław — half an hour by train, twelve minutes by car — makes it an easy visit from one of Poland's most visited cities.
On the question of declining alcohol consumption, Madsen is measured rather than anxious. He is developing a non-alcoholic proxy for guests who want something complex to drink. But he is clear that he has no interest in dealcoholised wine.
You take the soul out of the wine.
— Esben MadsenFive years from now, he hopes to still be in business, perhaps with another five hectares planted, probably more PIWIs, possibly one or two new Vitis varieties. Sparkling wine is a priority. The technical rigour required appeals to the scientist in him.
The Souvignier Gris in the glass — the first wine poured, 11 percent alcohol, cool-vintage fresh, pear and gooseberry where previous years gave pineapple and passion fruit — is a reminder of what this latitude can do when the season cooperates. The granite shows through. The horses are somewhere nearby. The Atlantic overturning circulation will have to model itself.