If it grows together…

Years ago, when I was a young and impressionable apprentice, I asked my chef whether there was a general rule for the pairing of wines, cheeses and foods. His answer was a complete surprise to me.

First of all there was one.

I was sure I had asked one of those questions that, by the nature of the question, oversimplifies the whole subject and would, in turn, solicit rebuke, at which I was expert. He looked at me and said, “If it grows together, it goes together.” It makes sense: Chianti and Cacio, Echezeaux and Escargots, Peanut Butter and Jelly.

It’s easy to forget sometimes that a hundred years ago, just about everyone (who could afford food at all) was really enjoying food in a way that seems luxurious or even out of reach now. It was a simple thing to catch a trout in a stream and fry it in a pan with some butter, and maybe a handful of watercress you shoved in your pocket while you were fishing. There wasn’t any mercury in the stream, and the banks had yet to be paved. PCBs hadn’t even been invented yet. And the apples in your area made great cider, or the grapes, wine. And over the course of time, people made wines that went better with the foods they had.

Look at the Loire Valley, or Brittany, or Normandy, with all those cows. If the first wine they made in Brittany didn’t go very well with fish, they probably didn’t make it again. If the first ciders of Normandy upset the stomach with dairy, you can bet that recipe got axed. People ate and made wine in these places for a thousand years before anyone even noticed that the neighbors were doing something different. And by then, who gave a shit? *Zees ees ow wee make zee wine een Burgundy. Scrouw zose guys een Bordeaux.*

One could even argue that since all of these things were fed from the same land, they had comparable or complementary mineral contents. (Though that might be a stretch.)

We don’t really have that tradition here. Did concord grape wine really go all that well with corn? Probably not. But Europeans who came here were used to making wine, and if concord grapes were all they had, then god damn it, they were making some concord grape wine. Travel and shipping were well-established before Gallo had planted a vine. By the time they had vinifera grapes (other than zinfandel [nee primitivo]) in California, they had trains, too.

But you know what? I’ve noticed a new tradition forming: people are making wines that suit the local harvest, even though they don’t have to.

Look at Oregon pinot noirs. I don’t know that there’s a better red wine suited to salmon than a young Argyle or Beaux Freres. As the world of charcuterie has blown up in the Pacific Northwest, so too have characterful dry reds. Moving away from California’s fruity hegemony, L’Ecole No 41 and Columbia have released Cab Francs and blends that remind me of Bougueil. Plus the value brands seem more food friendly than ever: Duck Pond, Cloudline, Domaine Ste Michelle.

Maybe vintners are doing this on purpose, bringing their wines home. Maybe they’re sick (like the rest of us) of mimicking everything that scores well with Robert Parker. Or maybe good food and good wine just go well together.

Listening: Tortoise “In Sarah, Mencken, Christ and Beethoven There Were Women and Men” TNT