I'll never forget whatsisname. . .

I’m reading, enjoying, and learning a lot from “Inventing Wine: A New History of One of the World’s Oldest Pleasures,” by Paul Lukacs (W.W. Norton, $28.95), a fascinating book. The author essentially re-tells the story of wine from a skeptical point of view rather than the usual romantic angle, adding science and commerce to the mix to provide some new assessments to an old story.
       One such note is ironic: In the Middle Ages, people re-discovered an ancient Roman idea, making wine from dried or semi-dried grapes—the alcohol was higher, which helped preserve the wine, and sweeter, which offset the variable flavors and inevitable spoilage. The wines were highly prized, and in honor of the tradition, they were known as “Romneys.” Surely, the lifelong teetotal recent former Presidential candidate (remember him?) will appreciate that this particular irony didn’t turn up during the campaign. . .

Being perfectly Frank

Cleaning out some old files, I came across an article I wrote a bit more than a decade ago, which included some remarks from my old friend Frank Prial, the distinguished columnist for The New York Times who died last year. What he said is still relevant:
          "Class and price have come to mean the same thing, unfortunately, and too often we see people afraid not to spend a lot of money on ‘fine wine.’ In many cases, price and availability are the defining elements of ‘quality.’ . . . ‘World-class,’ if we must use the term, should apply to all categories at all levels—a good $10 bottle that’s the best in its class is world-class to me.’”
          Amen.

Politics and taste. . .

President Obama made a splendid speech at his inauguration, though questions remain: Will the Republicans be more cooperative? Will gun owners in New York accept the invitation of the attorney general of Texas to move there? And, most vexing of all, who decided to feature one of America’s least distinguished sparkling wines (Korbel) at the inauguration lunch, and then compound the off-centeredness by choosing its bone-dry version to go with dessert? (Wine lovers snickered at the choice on esthetic grounds, and the French complained about the use of the word “Champagne,” to some cheap shots from politicians and pundits unaware that they’re legally, as well as morally, obliged to do so.)
       Meanwhile, it was great to see New York wines getting their due: Tierce Dry Riesling 2010 from the Finger Lakes, and Bedell Cellars Merlot 2009 from Long Island were also poured. The last time I visited both areas, a few years ago, I was pleasantly amazed at the quality of a wide range of the wines, especially these two varieties. I don’t know about New York Senator Charles Schumer’s epicurean credentials generally, but he made a good call when he muscled them on to the menu.

Hey buddy, got a match?

Among the many byways wine can wander into, the one most likely to go on forever is the maze of matching food and wine. Professionals argue fine points, like medieval scholars analyzing the movements and motives of angels, while amateurs just want to know what won’t embarrass them when they have a few people over for supper. This aspect of wine seems like contemporary politics, with an empty middle ground; if only everybody'd lighten up, life would surely improve. Dinner will be served. There will be a beverage. It will be OK. Let a smile be your umbrella, folks.
       Meanwhile, though, the maze goes on. Simon Callow, a good actor and an affable chap, has now begun a radio show on a classical music station. He will, it was announced, “take listeners on a musical wine tour” on Sunday afternoons, “pairing the perfect piece of classical music to accompany a delicious glass of wine.” The first show matched a white Burgundy with Delibes, Mozart, and Debussy. I’d have gone with Beethoven quartets myself, but hey, that’s the way the wine-matching game goes. (I was once—and only once--a guest on a radio wine show, tasting and discussing wine. It was an odd experience, like dropping a pea from the top of the Empire State Building, into the void: How far would it waft? Where would it land? Would it hurt anybody? Would it matter? Who knew?)
       At about the same time, Miguel Torres, an enterprising, charming, thoroughly serious winemaker and also a very nice man, sponsored a seminar in Barcelona on scientific approaches to matching food and wine, especially the new cuisine of “molecular gastronomy,” which we’re all hoping will get a new name soon. Featured speaker was Francois Chartier, who has worked at El Bulli, and written a book analyzing flavor compounds, which he calls “aromatic families,” as a way of finding better matches between wine and food. The concepts will probably not be coming to a neighborhood restaurant near you any time soon—one result was a sushi meant to go with red wine, featuring black olives, pepper, and coffee-flavored wild rice.
       I hope all this turns out all right. While I wait, I’ll be drinking Champagne, playing Cole Porter, and tucking into scallops seared in a little tarragon butter, retrograde and unrepentant.
       And happy.

Croatia: Delicious new territory

On my way to a tasting of Wines of Croatia, I stopped for lunch at a gastropub near the Barbican called The Jugged Hare, specializing in game and other hearty red-blooded food and a superb, wide-ranging wine list, a lot of it by the glass. I asked the waiter for whatever light, dry white he thought was best, as long as it wasn’t Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc. He came back a minute later with “the wine we all liked best at the staff tasting this morning, we’re adding it to the list.” It was Kozlovic Malvasia 2011, from. . . Croatia. Lovely, lively, lightly minerally, subtle but serious enough; the flavour lingered nicely, and it was perfect with a chunky venison-grouse liver terrine.

        Over at the tasting, I met Antonella Kozlovic; the wine is from old vines in a single vineyard, and shows all that; the standard version’s pretty good too, though lighter. They also make a version aged in acacia barrels (as do a few others in the Istria region—they have a lingering taste like that of Chiclets, the candy-coated gum I chewed through childhood. Odd, for wine, but popular, they told me.) Also admirable were Malvasias from Matosevic and Agrolaguna; trying quite a few of that variety, it was obvious that oak completely flattens the interesting edginess of the wines. The simplest and cheapest were often the best.

        Another interesting white wine, from several producers, was called Grasevina, which turned out to be Welschriesling—nothing to do with real Riesling. It’s widely planted, has light floral aromas and zippy acidity, a pleasant sipping wine as made there. Like Malvasia, it’s generally considered to be an also-ran, but a goodly number of the Croatians are doing a delicious salvage job on both. Cheers!