A Mouthful of Wine

Adaptation 3: Tricks for Wine Pairing

With so many tastes and aromas layered in the food and wine you consume, it can be a tricky game to figure out which of your senses will adapt to what, and how to maximize your sensory pleasure. The “rules” of wine pairing are often contradictory—the first step is to choose which rule to apply; the second step is to choose the right wine! Experimentation is the best way to learn what works, but here is a collection of pointers that may help.

Like cancels like: There are certain tastes in food that can alter the taste of your wine for the worse—your palate adapts to a certain level of, say, sugar, and can no longer register any sweetness in the wine. This makes the wine taste sour. (If you want to experience this, try the toothpaste experiment.) The key here is to make sure your wine has more of that taste than your food. In other words, the wine should be sweeter than the food. This also applies to acidity.

Sometimes opposites attract: Contrary to the above rule about tastes, textures tend to accumulate until they’re too much of a good thing. The heat of a high-alcohol wine only aggravates the heat of spicy food, and a structureless, “fat” wine makes fried or creamy foods into a bland mess. In these cases, it’s best to play elements off each other: spicy needs sweet; creamy or fatty (like fettucini alfredo) needs acidity; and fatty proteins (like steak) need tannin.

Remember weight: If your food is heavy and rich, try pairing it with a rich, full-bodied wine. Delicate foods often call for light-bodied wines.

The lemon trick: If your food is something that could be served with a wedge of lemon for squeezing—salad, oysters, fish, shellfish, fried calamari, even chicken paillard or plain veal scallopini—feel free to choose a wine that acts like lemon: one with high acidity. Muscadet and Chablis are classic with oysters and would work well with most green salads or seafoods; and high-acidity whites and reds such as Beaujolais and Sangiovese/Chianti work like lemon with chicken and veal.

When in doubt (the easiest trick to remember): The European countries developed their wine making over centuries, which means the wines were developed in harmony with each culture’s taste in food. When in doubt, go with the wine that comes from where your food comes from. If you can narrow your food source down to a region (Alsace, Sicily…) and match that, even better. Chances are you’ll end up with a harmonious pairing.

 

A Sweet Wine Tasting

At the shop where I work I led a sweet wine tasting earlier this week that was particularly interesting because the four wines we tried were so different. I brought four foods to mix and match with the wines, without having tasted the wines in advance, which led to a fun quasi-scientific evaluation that everyone took part in. It would be easy to try this at home. Here’s how it went.

The wines:

1. Hétsolo Tokaji Aszú 2000 (Tokay, Hungary; $38/375 ml)

The least sweet of the wines, with 3 puttonyos (the range of sweetness from 1 to 6 that Tokaji is measured by) and some of the honeyed apricot flavor of noble rot.

2. Cooper Mountain Vin Glace Pinot Blanc 2006 (Willamette Valley, Oregon; $30/375 ml)

An ice wine made by manual freezing, but nonetheless pure, with zingy acidity and a bright, intense grapefruit and guava flavor. Made from organic and biodynamic grapes.

3. Favaíto Moscatel do Douro NV (Douro, Portugal; $15)

A fortified wine (17% alcohol) made from Moscatel Galego grapes, a subvariety of Muscat with its typical heady floral aromas. The simplest wine of the four, but a customer favorite. The Portuguese like to spike their beer with this—and I can attest to the success of that cocktail!

4. Quinta do Noval Late Bottled Vintage Port 2003 (Douro, Portugal; $28)

Also a fortified wine (19.5% alcohol), this is an unfiltered LBV that provided a needed red wine counterpoint to the previous three whites. The differences are in the tannin and the earthy berry/fig/date/licorice flavors.

The foods:

1. Roasted almonds

These were almost too light in flavor to hold their own with the wines, with the exception of the Tokaji (1).

2. Blue cheese (Danish, but anything would work)

This was too pungent for the gentler flavors of the Tokaji (1), but was remarkably good with all of the rest of the wines, particularly with the high acidity of the Vin Glace (2) and the earthier flavors of the Port (4). Wines 2 through 4 were sweet enough to stand up to the sweetness of the cheese, which brings to mind the all-important Dessert Pairing Rule:

When pairing desserts and sweet wines, the wine should always be sweeter than the dessert. If you want to know why, read about adaptation. 

3. Dark chocolate

Chocolate is notoriously difficult to pair with wine because of its sweetness and tannin. Milk chocolate is all but impossible to please (too sweet), but dark chocolate (greater than 50% cocoa) likes Port a whole lot. Port (4) has the sweetness and tannin to pair with a less-sweet dark chocolate.

4. Carrot cake

Super-sweet, with its cream cheese icing, and mildly spicy, this was beautiful with the Vin Glace (2), whose acidity lasered through the creamy sugariness, and with the Port (4), which nicely complemented the winter spices. Also fine with the Moscatel (3).

If you’re trying this yourself, you almost can’t go wrong: Think…who would complain about sweet wines and desserts in any combination?! But it can be very interesting to suss out the finer affinities of an assortment of goodies. Treat yourself—and let me know what you find out.

 

The Truth About Sulfites

Many wine consumers seem to worry about sulfites. Perhaps it’s because of the mysterious warning on the wine label. But this is one thing most people can relax about: Sulfites are dangerous if you are asthmatic and/or have a sulfite allergy (sulfites cause breathing difficulties in about 5% of asthmatics). Unless you’re a member of the small group who need to be aware of sulfites, that “Contains sulfites” statement is just like the one on a chocolate wrapper that says it may have been processed in a facility that processes nuts. You need to know this only if you have trouble with nuts; the package tells everyone just to be safe.

Almost all wine makers use sulfur dioxide as an antioxidant (preservative), although most try to minimize its use. What most people don’t know is that the yeast that cause the all-important fermentation in wine making also produce sulfites naturally during that process—some 6 to 40 parts per million (ppm). The FDA requires the “Contains sulfites” statement on the wine label starting at 10 parts per million. Another little-known fact is that any food or beverage containing 10 ppm or more of a sulfite must declare its presence on the label (with the ingredients). And many, many foods contain sulfites, including deli meats, condiments, processed potato products, frozen doughs, fruit juices, and fruit products such as dessert toppings and dried fruit.

Many people believe that organic wines do not contain sulfites. Aside from the natural sulfite contributions of the yeast, organic wine makers are allowed to and often do use sulfites—up to 100 ppm. Wines that are marketed as “sulfite-free” may be organic, but organic wines are not necessarily sulfite free. “Sulfite-free” wines may simply contain fewer than 10 ppm, thereby avoiding the labeling requirement.

Here are the numbers.

Maximum sulfite level allowed in wine in U.S.: 350 ppm (parts per million)

Maximum sulfite level allowed in organic wine in U.S.: 100 ppm

Sulfites produced by yeast during fermentation: 6 to 40 ppm

Minimum sulfite level requiring sulfite statement on wine label: 10 ppm

Minimum sulfite level requiring sulfite declaration on any label: 

 

Wines for the Feast: 5 All-American Options

The problem with Thanksgiving (if there could possibly be one) is that there are so many different dishes and styles of feasting that it’s impossible to find a wine that complements everything perfectly. The only thing to do is have a selection of wines for different foods and different tastes. They don’t have to be American wines—after all, we Americans, like wines, come from everywhere under the sun—but for this typically American feast, why not source wines “locally”? Here are five ideas.

1. Champagne goes with almost everything. American “champagne” is, of course, referred to as sparkling wine, and there are great examples from California—look for the words “traditional method” on the label to guarantee a wine made using the methods used in Champagne. Or, for a very budget-friendly sparkler, try Gruet, made in New Mexico, particularly the rosé.

2. A rich white such as Viognier will hold its own with the opulent flavors of Thanksgiving. Zaca Mesa in Santa Barbara makes a nice one, or Cline’s is a very respectable lower-priced option.

3. Pinot Noir is almost a no-brainer, because its naturally high acidity allows it to complement a wide range of foods. Generally speaking, if you like slightly fuller body and fruit, look to California; for a light to medium body and tart cherry flavors, go with the Willamette Valley in Oregon.

4. Zinfandel is the Thanksgiving classic, partly because the grape is so strongly associated with California. Go with Zin if you like a full-bodied, super-juicy-fruity, almost chocolatey wine—this will pair best with the richer foods on the table: think bacon…blue cheese…stuffing.

5. For dessert, try ice wine. The grapes for ice wine are picked and pressed after they freeze on the vine, resulting in a thick, sweet, high-acidity juice, since the grapes’ water content is bound up as ice. More affordable versions are made by late-harvesting the grapes and then freezing them. Try Cooper Mountain’s Pinot Blanc, from Oregon, or there are many ice wines produced in New York’s Finger Lakes region.

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Umami: The Mysterious Fifth Taste

You’re familiar with the four tastes that register on the tongue: sweet, sour, salty, and bitter. But a little-known fifth taste deserves some attention. Umami (oo-mom-ee) is not a new invention—we’ve been tasting it at least since ancient times, but weren’t able to scientifically identify it. We have only known, across the centuries, that a certain condiment or seaweed or mushroom had a pleasing brothy savor.

The word umami is Japanese, but doesn’t have a direct translation to English. The closest we have come is “delicious”—not very specific! And the concept has not been fully studied; in fact, it was only in 1990 that umami was internationally accepted as a fifth taste, perceived only on the tongue, like sweet, sour, salty, and bitter.

Still, chefs know how to add “deliciousness” to a dish: Foods high in umami include miso broth, parmesan cheese, asparagus, many seaweeds, scallops, dried mushrooms, and soy sauce. MSG, developed in the early 1900s in Japan, became known as an “instant” umami, and is still used in many foods to simulate flavor cheaply. If you put MSG, which looks like elongated sugar crystals, on your tongue, the sensation is of a slightly salty chicken broth, without an actual poultry flavor. But true umami is much more complex than this, and exists in many hundreds of foods.

 

Dried mushrooms and many seaweeds are among the foods highest in umami.

Is umami detectable in wine? Absolutely. You can taste it in many Champagnes and sparkling wines, and in some chardonnays, as a result of their contact with yeast cells after fermentation. The umami taste may correspond with a brioche or yeast aroma in these wines. In red wines, yeast can impart umami during a long, cool fermentation.

For more information on umami, check out the Umami Information Center.

Mastic: For the Aroma Library

Living on the Greek island of Astoria, one finds many strange things during shopping trips. A dried plant sap called mastic—the original chewing gum—is a flavoring beloved of the Greeks (and Turks, Lebanese, and Egyptians), and frequently used in baking. Mastic is collected from a bush related to the pistachio, whose stems are sliced to allow the sap to seep out. It hardens, but immediately softens into a gum when chewed—as it has been since ancient Greek times to freshen the breath.

The taste may be an acquired one, but the acquisition is easy—it has a delicate perfume, a leafy, plantlike combination of eucalyptus, pine, and mint. A vanilla note smoothes the edges. It is easy to imagine this aroma in a Greek or Italian red wine.

What's an aroma library?

 

The Tasting Note Goes Mainstream

Have you always felt that the tasting notes provided for wine—in food or wine magazines, at the wine shop, or on restaurant menus—had nothing to do with you? Many people are uncomfortable with the idea of “a nose of acacia flower, ripe Bosc pear, fresh tangerine, and toasted hazelnut” in wine, and don’t get how they’re supposed to smell this. They may even feel it’s pretentious.

At the same time, many food and scent corporations seem to be hoping consumers are beginning to feel more comfortable with their senses. Starbucks regularly uses “tasting notes” on its coffee bags and signage. I spotted a tasting note on my Haagen Dazs container that mixes the languages of the fragrance and wine industries (top notes, finish) to engage the reader’s senses.

And a Lindt chocolate advertisement in a magazine encourages readers to use all five senses (four shown) in enjoying their chocolate. Lindt’s web site even shows how to set up your own chocolate tasting.

Surely we’re not being encouraged to engage in esoteric chatter about everything we consume. But perhaps we might pause every so often and unself-consciously notice the texture, aroma, or taste of the foods and wines we particularly enjoy.

 

Pawpaws: For the Aroma Library

It isn’t often one has the opportunity to taste something completely unfamiliar. So when three pawpaws, in different stages of decay, showed up in a surprise package from a pal in Kentucky, I was delighted. I could smell them before I opened the box: a sour aroma of burnt sugar and overripe fruit, like fallen peaches that have begun to ferment. I opened the box, and found three of the least promising fruits I have ever seen.

I cut into the ripest one longitudinally, and was stopped short by a pit. I cut crosswise through the very thin skin and discovered that each pawpaw has about five seeds in a neat row inside, from one end of the fruit to the other. And around those seeds is a burnt-orange flesh. I dug in and came up with a spoonful of something that had vivid aromas of burnt sugar, exotic spice, custard, and bitter cocoa—like a cocoa crème brulée. The consistency was of overripe mango, with a medium sweetness and acidity and the slight bitterness and astringency of tannin.

I have to explain that, technically, my pawpaws were way overripe. Okay, practically rotten. This is how the old-timers in Kentucky eat them, my friend says. And there’s something to be said for the wisdom of old-timers: The less-ripe pawpaws were more reserved in their aroma and had the firmer consistency of tomato flesh. One is supposed to eat them when they’re still green, with cream-colored flesh inside. I, for one, am sold on rotten.

For more on pawpaws...

What's an aroma library?

The $646 Bottle of Wine

Yesterday I had the opportunity to try Harlan Estate’s Proprietary Red, a legendary all-Cabernet wine from Napa whose 2006 vintage averages $646 a bottle on Wine-Searcher. (Estimating a dozen sips per glass, my two sips each would have cost $10.77 if I had bought the wine at retail or auction.)

This wine has been described by Jancis Robinson as one of the ten best wines of the twentieth century. And the wine was wonderful, but its flavor is almost beside the point. Quality doesn’t cost hundreds of dollars to produce. Supply (about 1,600 cases each year) and demand (given scores in the high 90s, and even 100 in some years) are the key to the price. Wine lovers who resent such expensive bottles need to remember that these bottles are made for collectors and investors who will not necessarily pull the cork. (Your late-model Ferrari may depreciate by 50% in the first three years, but it won’t disappear the first time you use it!)

Still irritated? Think of your three best friends. The four of you are eating outside on a beautiful day, or snug in your home for a gourmet dinner. You’re sharing a nice bottle of wine that costs $25 or $35 or even $50.

Now image the wine costs more than $600. Are you enjoying yourselves more?

DIY Wine Blends

In the middle of a geeky phase of wine study, I once visited a generous friend with a well stocked cellar who brought out three Bordeaux from different appellations so I could guess which was which when presented with unidentified glasses of wine. I was very pleased with myself. Then someone else handed me a glass to see if I could duplicate my results. And I was stumped! Why had the wine changed so much? I reasoned, I talked it through, I made a guess. Then the friend confessed he had mixed two of the wines. Touché.

Most wines are blends in one way or another. Either wines made from different grapes have been blended (as in a traditional blend such as Côtes du Rhône), or same wines that have been given different treatments are combined to create a final blend (an example would be a single-vineyard Chardonnay, some of which has been aged in oak and some in stainless steel, to achieve a final Chardonnay with a subtler oak presence). But these wines are blended in the cellar by a winemaker.

I’m talking about self-mixology. You might think this is sacrilege, but who says that what comes in the bottle is perfectly tailored to you? Some people add sparkling water, or ice. Others suffer through a wine with too much tannin for their taste, or one that’s sweeter than they’d like.

A few nights ago after a tasting, I was looking for something to sip and enjoy. But the tasting was of Bordeaux reds—not always the most sippable wines without food. One of the wines, a Lalande de Pomerol, was very light-bodied, almost watery, lacking structure but with decent flavor. On the other end of the spectrum was a Cru Bourgeois Superieur from the Haut-Médoc, a cabernet-based wine that was impressively intense, but too tannic for sipping. I added a dash of it to the weaker wine and came up with something reasonable and fairly pleasing.

The “rules” of DIY blending are to combine only same-grape wines or wines that are commonly blended by the winemaker, such as Sauvignon Blanc and Sémillon, or Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. It doesn’t always work out, but sometimes the best of two options is to create a third.