Even big, fat Chardonnays make a splash with food
From the chapter: Cooking up storms
In a 1999 issue of Decanter—the UK publication that bills itself as "The World's Best Wine Magazine"—there was an interesting story done on two separate tastings involving the exact same line-up of California and French grown Chardonnays. One tasting took place in New York City with a panel of American experts, and the other in London with some well known British experts.
The two panels met at the exact same time (although the Brits tasted five hours earlier due to the time difference), but the results were, not surprisingly, divergent. The British experts, who are accustomed to the taste of French wines, rated a 1996 Beaune Clos des Mouches by Joseph Drouhin—a full, refined, smoky, minerally, lemony edged wine—first. The American experts, who are more accustomed to the taste of California wines, rated the Beaune Clos des Mouches ninth out of ten.
The Americans’ top choice, on the other hand, was a 1997 Shafer Red Shoulder Ranch from Napa Valley—a big, thick, opulent style of Chardonnay that I knew well (at one time, a mainstay on my wine lists), with an almost tropical fruit intensity. The British experts rated the Shafer a mere seventh out of ten. One American judge described the Shafer as "exotic, but not over the top," whereas a Brit described it as having "no subtlety, too much of everything... a Pamela Anderson wine.”
That two groups of people should have different tastes in wine comes as no surprise. It is just one graphic example of the fact that objective wine judgement does not exist (something that consumers instinctively understand, far better than wine professionals). But as an observer on the sideline, what I found surprising was the somewhat narrow perspective evident in comments from both sides, which I always find disappointing when it comes to "experts.”
One of the British judges, for instance, commented that he'd hoped to find a range of California Chardonnays that “have moved on since the old days of no acidity or zip." Acidity, schmidity—who gives a darn? Everyone knows that California Chardonnays—even ones from cooler climate regions such as Carneros, Sonoma Coast and Santa Barbara—have never really been about acidity, like what you find in Chablis. But what Chablis, or even any white Beaune, are capable of expressing as much rich, round, textured, opulent qualities found in even average-range California Chardonnay?
For that matter, what about more catholic, simpler, meaningful standards, such as: Does the wine taste good? Is it pleasingly smooth, impressively flavorful, memorable? This is, after all, how people who actually drink Chardonnay would rate them. The average American Chardonnay lover, at least, likes to be "wowed," not so much intellectually stimulated on the basis of preconceived notions.
In another instance, one American taster, reflecting on the British opinion that these full sized California Chardonnays are not particularly food-friendly, exclaimed: "Hey, I don't think any of us want to go home and drink these either!" Of course, if I was going home to eat spaghetti and meatballs, I wouldn’t want to drink Chardonnay; and neither would I care for a fine, crisp white Burgundy. Come to think of it, tart edged New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs do not go with every dish; and neither do Germany's Rieslings, grand crus Bordeaux, Italy’s Supertuscans, or any other “great” wines of the world. Wine and food compatibility is contextual, and not all wines fall in ideal contexts.
The point being: Like it or not, great California Chardonnay has now long been, almost by definition, something very full in alcohol (at least 13%, and even more typically over 14%), and filled out with enormously intense, juicy apple or pineapple-like fruitiness. Neither are many of them shy in the creamy, vanillin, toasted and/or smoky oak department, although there has been a stylistic shift away from that since the turn of the millennium. I can remember a time when most top-quality white Burgundies were over-oaked (when the smell of “hot dog water” was a giveaway marker of French wine in a blind tasting), but I’ve never held that against them.
So let’s talk Chardonnay for what it is, not what we wish it were. Like the perception, according to many wine geeks today, that it is not much of a “food wine.” Nonsense.
Anyone who says Chardonnay doesn’t compliment food just doesn’t understand food or wine. Sure, unlike other varietal type wines—such as Sauvignon Blanc, Riesling or Grüner Veltliner—Chardonnay tends to be bigger, oakier, and lower in acidity. But there are plenty of dishes that actually taste better with wines that are bigger, oakier and lower in acidity. Dishes that make a French Chablis, Sauvignon Blanc, Riesling or Grüner Veltliner taste weak, puny, lean or mean.
For every style of wine or terroir in the world, there are ideal wine matches. Let’s cut to the chase and share some guidelines when cooking to match bigger styles of Chardonnay:
Look for fleshier white meats (from deep sea fish and lobster to game birds, pork, veal and sweetbreads); and if the meat isn’t replete with its own natural fats and juices, prepare it with sensations of similarity with the use of butters, oils (truffle-buttered popcorn, for instance, is a seamless match), creams or mild aiolis.
It’s also a good idea to balance white meats with restrained use of contrasting ingredients such as lemon (acidity), mustards, garlic, and all varieties of mushroom (earth tones), and fresh vegetables (such as corn and carrot), fruit (peach and apple), or caramelized onions (touches of sweetness) and perhaps smoked white sausages or bacon.
Don’t be afraid of oak—playing up smoky/nutty/vanillin qualities by wood grilling, smoking or slow roasting, and use of toasted nuts (like pistachio, sesame seeds and pine nuts) is not just a good idea, but a delicious one.
Accenting Chardonnay fruitiness with flatteringly scented herbs (especially chives, sweet basil, parsley, and more moderately, dill, sage, tarragon and rosemary) also does the trick.
Moderately soft, milky cheeses such as Havarti, young goudas, most mozzarellas, bricks and crèmes are delicious with the biggest, fattiest, oakiest Chardonnays; therefore, incorporating such ingredients into dishes is another crafty thing to do.
What shouldn’t you do when cooking for Chardonnay? Just as a glass of orange juice or a dollop of ketchup is not ideal on a scoop of sweet, creamy ice cream, use of sharp ingredients such as vinegars, sauerkraut or raw tomato, more lethally scented seasonings such as ginger, cilantro, kaffir lime or raw garlic, salty tastes like shoyu and salted fish, and hot tastes such as curries and chili pastes, are all likely to take the stuffing right out of an intense Chardonnay’s generously oaked, high alcohol fruitiness, making the wine taste flabby, paper-dry or bitter, and the dishes themselves too acidic, salty, fiery, or just plain weird.
In other words, aggressive fusion style dishes, or even traditionally soured, salted or chili spiced foods, are not Chardonnay’s forte, so don't ask it to be.. The same when it comes to pastas in zesty tomato sauce, vinegary salads and seviches, hot sour soups and barbecues—don't expect Chardonnay to fit where it doesn't belong.
Finally, although ideal Chardonnay matches fall fabulously into the realm of “other white meats,” I see nothing wrong with the enjoyment of this wine with leaner cuts of beef (like filet sizzling rare in a heart-stopping pool of butter); or with use of thin strips of beef or even lamb in the Asian tradition (like classic tataki with cucumbers and chiso), providing the use of excessively salty, sour or hot ingredients is restrained. Especially if that is what you like (the palate can be forgiving).
Over the years I have compiled a list of favorite, tried-and-true matches for Chardonnay; dishes that harness the wine’s gleeful girth of fruit, smoke, and creamy or buttery textures to delicious effect. Not surprisingly, many of these dishes involve butter. If only for that reason, you gotta love’em even if you don’t normally drink Chardonnay.
CHARDONNAY MATCHES I HAVE KNOWN AND LOVED
Listed along with their original sources or inspirations culled from personal experiences, the following ideas should give you plenty enough ammunition to do your own thing in the kitchen:
Julia Child’s veal with mushrooms and cream.
Julia Child’s sweetbreads sautéed in butter.
Harvey Steiman’s suggestion of veal osso buco in dill chardonnay jus.
John Ash’s wild mushrooms sautéed in fennel butter sauce.
Chris Gesualdi’s herb crusted moonfish (white fleshed Hawaiian opah) with summer vegetables in lobster coral (i.e., egg mass) butter.
Roy Yamaguchi’s seared mahi mahi in roasted macadamia nut lobster butter sauce.
Richard Olney’s truffled white sausage with pistachios and court-bouillon.
Cory Schreiber’s seared salmon in sweet corn broth with leeks and chanterelles.
David Rosengarten’s grilled snapper with roasted sweet pepper, tropical fruit and cilantro salsa.
My own homemade burritos—especially when made with smoked mozzarella, kalua pig (woodsmoked Hawaiian style pulled pork) and lomi lomi style pico de gallo ("chop chop" tomato/green onion salsa).
"Trifle niche" is an understatement, Dave, but thanks for your tolerance of the predominant commercial style of California Chard!
Love it.