The immersion blender is an essential tool for making delicious puréed soups.
This post pretty much wrote itself! From our Facebook Fan Page February 25, 2010: WineToMatch: makin’ butternut squash soup 2nite, w/aged balsamic + croutons. thinking good sangio (like Montevertine good) for wine. any other thoughts? Joy Lindholm Patton: I made a Mediterranean-influenced butternut squash soup a few weeks ago with ginger, cardamom and rosewater - it was unbelievable with a Gewurztraminer from Alsace. Paul Bacino: Geez.. I would be more inclined to have a white wine? Sandy Lemke: Pinot Gris WineToMatch: I like all those ideas. Gonna’ try Alsatian Pinot Gris side-by-side Chianti. forgot to mention crumbled pancetta so we might be on the edge of a red wine prep. I will report back! WineToMatch: Joy…that soup sounds insane! love those flavors! Frederic Ballario: Montlouis Les Tuffeaux 05 Chidaine WineToMatch: Fred, you sent that just in time. Changed to Chidaine just before I got the the register @FPWM! Caleb James Lorensen: how long is the balsamic aged? Caleb James Lorensen: joy…i need the recipe!!!!!!!!! WineToMatch: First time ever, skipped the pancetta and went for the white wine. Happy to report 2007 François Chidaine Montlouis “Clos du Breuil” is a lovely wine to match Butternut squash soup with aged balsamic!
Puréed butternut squash soup garnished with aged balsamic vinegar and homemade croutons was perfect with this Loire Valley Chenin Blanc.
This delicious soup is easy to make. Just cut the squash in half and scoop out the seeds and set them aside. Cut each half into quarters and steam them until fork tender (about 30 minutes), then allow the squash to cool. Sweat some minced shallot or onion in butter in a dutch oven, then add the reserved seeds. Once fragrant add about six cups of water and simmer. Strain into a bowl then pour back into the dutch oven. Scoop the flesh of the squash from its skin and add to the dutch oven. Purée this with a immersion blender until smooth. Mount with cream and butter and season to your taste with salt, pepper, nutmeg, and cayenne. The way you garnish this soup will dramatically change the wine pairing. With the addition of sautéed swiss chard and crumbled bacon I can easily see this being an excellent soup to pair with a sangiovese-based red wine like Chianti Classico or Barbera. Another approach is to play up the sweetness and crumble a little amaretto cookie and add a little cinammon. In that instance, I’d probably start thinking about a rich, textural white like Alsatian Pinot Gris. This version, with homemade croutons and a drizzle of balsamico, was spot-on with a delicious, dry Chenin Blanc from the Loire. Thanks Facebook Fans!
Many Neapolitan dishes feature San Marzanos, the sauce tomato par excellence.
Jeremy Parzen’s well researched post on the etymology of “sugo alla puttanesca” (“whoreish sauce”) is so good that that I’ll skip the colorful story and focus in on the ingredients and wines to match this Neapolitan classic. Like many Neapolitan dishes, puttanesca features the bright, and in my opinion, unmatched flavor of San Marzano tomatoes. A few additional ingredients such as olives, capers, salt-cured anchovies, garlic, and chili flakes are added to the San Marzano tomatoes to create an aromatic and strongly-flavored dish.
With so few ingredients, spend some extra cash for salt-packed anchovies and capers, and use high-quality olives. You will be able to taste the higher quality in the finished dish, and it’s worth it. My other piece of advice is to practice good mise-en-place by having your ingredients prepped and ready to go. The goal is to bring out the flavor of the tomatoes by cooking them for only a short time over high heat, so you should start to assemble the sauce at the same time as the water is coming to a boil for the spaghetti (or vermicelli as is common in Naples).
Lidia Bastianich, in her book “Lidia’s Italy,” also recommends cooking this type of sauce “in a large skillet over a hot fire, at the same time as the pasta cooks al dente.” This will help allow you to heat the sauce quickly while controlling its consistency. Finally, Lidia adds that “pasta in Naples defines the term ‘cooked al dente’ and that “no city is more in tune with the texture of cooked pasta,” so you really want to be able to focus on the flavors and textures that are happening in a very short (about 10 minute) period of time.
Arthur Schwartz, in his book “Naples at Table,” says that “there is an old Neapolitan habit of not draining pasta in a colander at all, but lifting it out of the pot with a fork,” which is done to preserve some of the starchy, salted water which can be used to loosen a sauce that has gotten too thick. However, this is unnecessary in the case of puttanesca. Instead, I like the technique demonstrated in this video by Mark Bittmann where he drains the pasta water into the serving bowl, thereby warming the bowl which keeps the pasta warm while serving. One final thought: skip the grated cheese and sprinkle on some freshly chopped parsley instead.
Greco from Molise and Aglianico from Basilicata are excellent partners to spaghetti alla puttanesca.
I thought that a dry, earthy, and higher-acid red was necessary to stand up to all of the strong flavors of tomato, garlic, and cured black olives. My first instinct was to try some dry, but lighter-styled, Campanian reds based on the piedirosso grape, such as the Feudi di San Gregorio Trigaio, but a wine from Basilicata caught my eye and I went for it. The Macarico Aglianico del Vulture “Macari” 2006 was rich and delicious and unexpectedly polished, and I found it to be almost too good for such a rustic and pungent dish. It seemed like it would have been more at home with roasted lamb or goat. So we went back to a dry white we had been drinking earlier in the evening, a 2008 Greco Terre Degli Osci (IGT) from Cantine Borgo di Colloredo from Molise. Greco is a prized varietal in neighboring Campania and is known for its grapey character. This Greco was dry but had almost a rich texture that nicely countered the spicy heat in our puttanesca. This is another dish where I would also suggest a Dry Fizzy Red like Gragnano.
Like a scene from “Julia and Julia,” or something.
Roasted chicken is so wine-friendly that it might seem like a no-brainer to some, but for the sake of completeness, and because we had it for dinner last night, here’s a short post on pairing wine with this classic French bistro staple.
In France, the experience can range from mundane to extraordinary. At an indifferent bistro in the 7th your poulet rôti might be flabby and greasy, and when paired with a dubious glass of “cuvée du restaurant,” you might wonder what all the fuss is about. But you’ll understand when you taste an expertly roasted Poulet de Bresse from a restaurant like Place Bernard de Georges Blanc in Burgundy and pair it with a top Mâconnais.
The famous blue-footed Poulet de Bresse are reared to exacting standards of their own appellation d’origine controlee, and are prized by French chefs for their taste and texture. Equally delicious is the bird at San Francisco’s Zuni Café, but I prefer to cook this dish at home. Julia Child said it best in “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” that “The most important aspect of chicken cooking is that you procure a good and flavorsome bird.” So I bought a Mountain Ranch Organic Chicken from a farmers’ market. The recipe from Julia’s book is the only recipe for roasted chicken I’ve ever used because it’s written for the home cook, and I always get succulent chicken with crispy skin. And always serve roasted chicken with a strong Dijon mustard. Always!
Roasted Poulet de Bresse at Place Bernard de Georges Blanc in Bourg-en-Bresse.
Roasted chicken is extremely wine-friendly, pairing well with both reds and whites. Julia Child suggests Médoc or rosé, and I see red Bordeaux with some age being a great match. In a Paris bistro, the vin rouge is likely to be Cabernet Franc, like Chinon or Bourgueil from the nearby Loire Valley. These wines are medium-bodied and aromatic, and I crave those wines whenever I plan to roast a chicken. Both red Burgundy and white Burgundy are spot-on here, and our sommelier at Georges Blanc suggested an excellent Pouilly-Fuissé. A dry Italian red from Sangiovese would also be perfect.
I poured two wines with our bird: 2008 Damien Delecheneau Touraine-Amboise Blanc, and a 2007 Trenel Morgon Côte du Py. The vineyards of Touraine-Amboise AOC lie next to those of Vouvray and Montlouis, and the white wines are blends based on Chenin Blanc. The 2008 was dry and fresh with racy acidity which cut through the richness of our chicken. Côte du Py is a small, high-quality subzone in the Beaujolais cru of Morgon. It was dry and aromatic with tons of minerality, and delicious with our poulet rôti.
Fish at a restaurant in Jounieh, Lebanon. Fish is unexpectedly rare for this Mediterranean country.
My posts on Lebanon and my trip there last year are so overdue that I considered holding off until my next visit in April. But my first visit was so enriching and inspiring that I felt I needed to say at least a few words about the country’s burgeoning food and wine scene. Lebanon’s rich food culture and the Lebanese people’s high regard for their cuisine was an eye-opening experience. Lunch, the day’s biggest meal, takes place over the course of several hours. It starts with “mezze” (a selection of small plates), followed by multiple courses of vegetables and meat. I expected to encounter much more fish in this Mediterranean country, given its 220 km of coastline, and a plentiful supply of crisp dry white wine to wash it all down. What I found instead was a food culture based on terroir (their land) focusing on grains, greens, and lots of meat. Fish and wine was only an occasional indulgence. When I asked my Lebanese hosts why, they simply said fish wasn’t really a part of their tradition. Nevertheless, they were determined to show me that great fish could be had in The Land of Cedars. They introduced me to a fish market in the Beirut suburb of Jounieh that more or less doubled as a restaurant where we stuffed ourselves on a mix of small fried fish. This preparation reminded me of fritto misto, the mix of fried fish one might encounter in Liguria, Italy, where it is customary to guzzle a liter or two of cold Vermentino while consuming an expertly fried combination of calamari, shrimp, and anchovies. My hosts insisted on Almaza, Lebanon’s ubiquitous pilsner-style beer (which I did not refuse), but Lebanon certainly produces ultra-crisp, fresh, and modern whites perfect for such occasions. But in Lebanon, such wines are almost impossible to find!
Most meals in Lebanon begin with mezze, like these at Le Chef, Beirut’s oldest restaurant.
Chérine Yazbeck, in her excellent new book, “The Rural Taste of Lebanon,” explains that the word “mezze” comes from the Arabic “maza” meaning “savor.” Mezze is an array of starters that precedes the meal, and I encountered it everywhere I went in Lebanon. Olive oil, garlic, onion, and lemon are foundations of flavor on which all Lebanese cuisine is built, and almost all of the common mezze employs these ingredients. Equally ubiquitous is arak, the strong anise-flavored national drink which is always served with mezze. Wine or Almaza beer were sometimes ordered later in the meal, but we always began mezze accompanied by arak. Think of arack as a cousin to Turkish raki or Greek ouzo, with a similarly strong anise taste and a tendency to go from clear to milky-white when cold water is added. Arak begins as still white wine produced from native Lebanese varietals like obeideh and merweh (both of which could potentially be a great Lebanese contribution to the wine world if farmed appropriately and made in a clean, modern style), and combined with anise seed in a still (an Arabic invention), then distilled three times. Arak is then stored in clay jars for a year before being distributed around the country where it is consumed with the daily mezze. Arak was explained to me as a sort of old-timers drink. However, I couldn’t help but observe how popular it was with all generations. Many common mezze dishes lend themselves well to wine, like the mint- and parsley-stuffed grape leaves known as Waraq Inab. I immediately thought of a dry and citrusy Sauvignon Blanc for this dish, and my winemaking friend Hicham Geagea even suggested a drier, more neutral style of Viognier. Two salads, Taboulleh with parsley, lemon, and bulgar wheat, and Fatouch (pictured above) with mache and sumac seemed ideal candidates for Sauvignon or Riesling. On the other hand, hummus and stuffed pastries known as Fatyer seemed to beg for Chardonnay or earthier styles of Merlot or Syrah. Finally, grilled Kofta (beef) and Lebanon’s delicious Schwarma both seemed to want Cabernet Sauvignon or a Left Bank Bordeaux-styled blend. With such an incredible diversity of food and a built-in food loving culture, not to mention the nearby Bekaa Valley, which produces excellent examples of all of the above-mentioned wine styles, one might agree that Beirut’s reputation as “Paris of the Middle East” has been earned. Yet wine remains a distant third to arak and beer in Lebanon. Perhaps Emil Issa-el-Khoury explained it best, whose family produces wine at their Domaine des Tourelles estate in addition to what is arguably Lebanon’s most famous arack of all: Arack Brun Special Reserve.
Emil Issa-el-Khoury from Domaine des Tourelles talks to WineToMatch about the importance of arack in Lebanese culture.
