Posts Tagged “wine”

I’ve been talking about it for a good month. Julia was pushing for it. People thought I wouldn’t do it, or couldn’t do it, even shouldn’t do it. I wasn’t all that sure myself, but this July 4th, with the help and indulgence of some good people and their Independence day backyard party, we lined up five white wines and a sixteen piece family meal of mild Popeye’s fried chicken in a blind tasting for the title of “this wine goes well with fried chicken.”

Where do you even begin to determine what wine goes best with fried chicken? (For the record, we decided by fiat that Popeyes is the best fried chicken commercially available, thus avoiding a much more complex and arduous tasting process.) The guys working in liquor stores had vague answers, sometimes recommending beer instead or subtly suggesting the whole project was insane. The internets, usually a font of complete (and completely unreliable) information, came up on the short side, with just one helpful review from wine review online. The twitterati came through with some ideas, @gracepiper suggesting, “I’d go for a crisp acidic white to cut through the fat,” and @popeyeschicken shilling ,”Cakebread Chardonnay goes great with mild! A South African Shiraz really works well with the spicy. Bon-appe-fide!” @garyvee was silent on the matter, claiming to be on a plane en route to Bordeaux. What-ever. Searching on cork’d was similarly unhelpful. I can’t help thinking the info is in there, but somehow trapped behind a lousy search system

I picked up five wines, some from recommendations, some from guesswork, and bagged them in random order. Here are the notes, in the order tasted with white meat or dark, but remember that nobody knew what they were tasting at the time.

#1: Vernaccia di San Gimignano Tenuta le Calcinaie 2007
We were crushed when the bag came off. We really like Vernaccia. We love Tuscany. And it’s DOCG and biodynamic, too! But this one was just blah. Maybe too young, maybe not quite cold enough, it just wasn’t crisp or bright enough for Popeyes salty crispy gamy greasy goodness. The fact that it had a slight nose of grass was ironic, since that’s where much of it ended up. A bummer at $16.

#2: La Vieille Ferme Cotes du Luberon 2007
Generally acknowledged to be superior to #1, this Rhone white called “the old farm” had a not one but two chickens on the label but still didn’t cut the grease enough to make it a happy match. There was some evidence of oak amongst the generally fruity flavors, but we were wishing for more crispness. Not too shabby for $9 but save it for more delicately prepared chickens.

#3: Casal Garcia Vinho Verde (NV)
One guest identified this one immediately, citing the slight fizz and bright citrusy nature. We agreed at once that the necessary acid was present to put up with popeyes grease and salt. Some even opined that this wine might have applications outside the fried chicken world. Grapefruit, lime, and slight mineral notes made some wonder if this was a Sauvignon Blanc. Halfway through the flight, this Portuguese $5 bottle was in the lead.

#4: Oyster Bay 2007 Sauvignon Blanc
I think if the wines were known in advance, the smart money would have been on this Marlborough NZ white. And maybe if it didn’t have to follow the Portuguese it would have fared better. A typical (which is very good) but unexceptional example of its kind, Oyster Bay delivered a dry and fruity experience that was firmly ok with the chicken, especially the white meat. A solid performer at $12.

#5: Cakebread Cellars 2005 Chardonnay
It was obvious from the first sip that this wine was not like the others. “Napa chardonnay!” some cried. “It’s like licking a barrel” said others. Oak, vanilla, butter and all the hallmarks of a mature California Chardonnay were nicely balanced. Even guests who were disgusted at the very idea of tasting wine with fried chicken grudgingly sampled this one. It was Popeyes own recommendation, but did it match up with the chicken? The majority said no, not so much, the buttery nature didn’t jibe with the fried chicken. A few dissenters preferred it, though. At $46, you’d better be sure.

At least for this round, we declare Casal Garcia Vinho Verde Branco the best wine partner for Popeyes mild fried chicken. There’s plenty of room at our summer table for humble tasty treats.

So, what have we learned here? Well, first and foremost, we learned that further testing will be necessary. Without even expanding our research to spicy chicken or red or rose wines, we notably omitted Champagne, Pinot Grigio, and Gruner Veltliner, three very likely candidates for good fried chicken matches.

We also learned that price and conventional measures of wine quality don’t always mean as much as they’re cracked up to, especially when making non-traditional pairings. In terms of all the various advice we received, I have to hand it to @gracepiper of Fearless Cooking for being most prescient even without recommending a particular wine.

Humble thanks also to the Josephine ave crew for putting up with this affront to their gourmet sensibilities. Several more blog posts could - and should - be written to celebrate the lamb burgers, hummus, smoked chicken salad, trifle and cupcakes and other amazing treats on offer.

I needed a drink Friday night, and despite the best efforts of the MBTA, I made my way to Casablanca restaurant in Harvard Square for small plates and wine. I spied a familiar name on the list and ordered up a 2006 Napa Fume Blanc from Grgich Hills. It hit the spot, crisp and dry, pineapply and cold, and took me back on a peculiar journey of oenophilic synchronicity.

Back In 2004, I took a summer vacation to Italy and Croatia. Two weeks of incredible eating and drinking. Towards the end of the trip, I was in Split, from where I took a ferry trip to several Dalmatian islands, including Vis, which was billed as, “vineyard island Vis.” How cool an idea is that? On Vis, I tasted several local wines with names I could neither pronounce or remember, which is a shame. Back in Split, I popped into a wine shop to find something to bring back. The shopkeeper pointed me towards a bottle of Grgić Pošip 2002 with the instruction that it was good with fish. It was from Korčula, an island I did not visit, but it was dry and delicious. With fish.

Flash forward a couple of years, and I’m in San Francisco on business. Which of course means I’m dragging my hapless but not unwilling colleague to Napa for an afternoon. We visited a handful of wineries, large and small, and then happened upon Grgich Hills. Could it be the same as Grgić? How could it be, but on the other hand, how could it not? (I didn’t notice it then, but the red and white checkered shield of Croatia is on the Grgich HIlls label) They didn’t have any Pošip, but my colleague brought back some of their famous Chardonnay. It turns out that the two winemakers are connected, but not in the way I would have guessed.

The Grgic(h) story starts in Croatia (Yugoslavia, actually), with Miljenko Grgich born into a winemaking family and fleeing communism in the ’50s for West Germany, Canada and then California. Later known as Mike, Grgich worked with several illustrious California winemakers and eventually partnered with Austin Hills to form Grgich Hills Cellar in 1977. It’s not a place, it’s two names. The story returns to Croatia only in 1996 when Mike goes back to set up Grgić Vina to combine local Croatian grapes (which Mike has proven are the ancestors of modern California Zinfandel) and high-tech techniques learned in Napa. You can read the full story at the Grgich Hills Estate web site, it’s quite a capsule history of California Chardonnay.

I still don’t know much about the spelling disparity or where to get more Grgić Pošip, but I’m happy to be reconnected with the Grgich family, and will definitely be stocking more Grgich Fume Blanc if I can get my hands on it.

Chianti that’s kosher for passover.  It’s down with both DOCG and OUP.  Too bad ashkenazim can’t have fava beans at passover.  I think we’ll leave the Manischewitz to Elijah.

In other news, the New York Times finds kosher wines from Israel superior to those from more traditional (although certainly not older) European wine regions.  Who knew?

I reached into my coat pocket for my sunglasses this afternoon, and came up instead with a Pulltap’s two-stage waiter’s friend corkscrew.   A poor substitute for sunglasses, to be sure, but a truly excellent corkscrew, and a reminder of a pleasant dinner at a neighborhood place without a liquor license.

I had forgotten about the pleasures (and terrors) of BYOB dining.  Poor planning mostly.  But I have been enjoying Basta Pasta since they opened, and when a friend asked if they served wine, I realized that I didn’t actually know.  Turns out they don’t.  Although I heartily recommend just about everything on their menu, most especially the housemade pasta, which is usually fusilli.

This time we came prepared.  Well, almost prepared.  Wine?  Check.  (A very nice Malbec that was a gift at work)  Corkscrew?  Check. (There’s not much worse than going BYOB and finding that the place doesn’t even have a worm!)  Glasses?  Oops.  Sure, I figure it was a longshot that they would have nice wine glasses, and who wants to carry the used glasses home again, but they would have to have some kind of beverage containers, right?

Yes, they do have cups.  Styrofoam cups.  Sure, not quite the optimal shape and not very atmospheric, but they should do the job.  Here’s a helpful piece on different kinds of wine glasses that mentions styrofoam in passing.  There was definitely some kind of bad chemical reaction between wine and foam, adding a peculiar amoniac smell to the whole affair, but the taste was just fine. People at an adjacent table seemed to have squared the circle well and properly with some acrylic-looking wine glasses. Must remember to stock some of those.

Minor glitch aside, what a wonderful deal - paying liquor store prices for wine rather than restaurant prices, enjoying wine at a lower budget neighborhood place, the peace of mind knowing that you can take the leftover wine home with you if there is any (not often a problem).  A reminder of the finer, cheaper, easier things in life.  Cheers!

I was out this weekend at a local “desserterie” after dinner for some, you guessed it, dessert. My friend and I agreed to split a chocolate fondue and a dessert wine flight - a tasting portion each of Sauvignon Blanc, Gewirtztraminer, and Port.

When the wines arrived it was immediately apparent that there was about half as much Port as each of the others. Before we could cock an eyebrow, the waitress helpfully explained:

We ran out of Port so I gave you more of the other two.

Now we all know that we came for the dessert, not for the wine. And It’s very possible our waitress was not even old enough to drink. But still.

Who thinks that extra Sauvignon Blanc and Gewirtztraminer make up for a shortage of Port? I’m not a big fan of dessert wines in general or Port in particular, but the Port was clearly the finale of the sequenced flight. If they’re down to the last lobster and it’s missing a claw, do they bring more mashed potatoes and think that’s going to make it OK? If you buy a suit and the jacket doesn’t fit, does an extra pair of pants improve your situation?

Additionally, I’m wondering how is it that a restaurant can end up with just two ounces of Port and no backup bottle? Port isn’t exactly perishable. What sick puppy poured the last full serving and put the near-empty bottle back without ordering more? That’s the sort of thing that happens with shared fridges in college - if you finish the milk, you’re responsible for disposing of the carton and buying more, so you leave just a scintilla of milk and put the container back.

I’m also wondering if you really want the last drop of Port from the bottle, or if you want to advertise to your customer that you’ve served the last drop. We all know that sediment happens…

Now, I have to give the establishment some credit here because we were given an additional full (tasting) glass of some other Port at no charge when we complained, even though that Port was on the warm side. And the fondue was choctacular and free of complication, served in an asymmetrical ramekin atop a tea light with long-handled duelling forks, white cake, three kinds of berries, pineapple, ice cream (don’t ask me how you’re supposed to dip that in the fondue) and chocolate chip cookies.