In their latest column for the Washington Post, Page & Dornenburg extol the virtues of a very popular -- and increasingly dogmatic -- food and wine pairing: wild salmon and New World pinot noir. The pairing brings together two important trends in the American culinary scene -- the greater availability of fresh, wild Alaskan salmon in the continental U.S. and the wild popularity of all things pinot. The writers quote Doug Mohr, sommelier at Vidalia, who offers the party line: "If you think 'salmon,' you automatically think Pacific Northwest -- and Oregon pinot noir with wild salmon is symbiotic. Wild salmon eat a diet of shellfish, which translates into their meat being sweet -- which plays off the natural cherrylike sweetness of Oregon pinot noir."
With all due respect to Mr. Mohr -- whom I've had the pleasure of meeting and who is one of the finest sommeliers in D.C. -- I have to disagree. I've always found the inherent "cherrylike sweetness" of New World pinot -- whether from Oregon, or California, or New Zealand -- to be cloying, rather than symbiotic, when paired with the richness of wild Alaskan salmon. A recent tasting of Copper River King salmon (ordered fresh from a Seattle fishmonger and simply grilled) confirmed for my palate the unhappiness of this pairing. Unlike the magical union of foie gras and Sauternes -- where sweetness enhances sweetness -- the pairing of salmon and New World pinot is a profound mismatch, with sweetness overwhelming sweetness. Salmon cries out for something more savory, something more minerally.
I'm reminded of the words of Pierre-Antoine Rovani -- Parker's longtime collaborator at the Wine Advocate -- who once observed: "As much as it's politically incorrect to say it, I believe that nobody would sing the virtues of matching Pinot and salmon if Pinot Noir had never been planted in Oregon." Rovani prefers Chardonnay with his salmon and delineates his preferences as follows: "Grilled, with the fatty skin charred into a bacon-like state, calls for a big buttery California Chardonnay. Grilled lightly calls for a Kistler-like bottle. A delicate preparation (like Troisgros's Salmon with Sorel) calls for a white burg from a not-too-rich year, poached with a cream-based sauce calls for a richer burg." I could not agree more, and only wish I had that range of choice in my personal cellar.
So if anyone happens to have, oh, I don't know, a great Montrachet they're willing to share, I'll order up some Yukon River King fillets before the season closes, and we'll have ourselves a proper meal.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Salmon & Pinot
Thursday, May 17, 2007
The Dead Hand of the Law
When I asked the clerk whether they normally had a problem with 18-year-olds buying premier cru Meursault, he didn't seem to think that they did. I suppose in some sense this is just a minor annoyance, and showing my driver's license isn't even much of a hassle in situations where I'm already pulling out my credit card. But there's something morally objectionable about a society where controls on alcohol are enforced so rigidly that people have to produce identity documents before being allowed to purchase fine wines. Just as the government shouldn't be regulating what paintings its citizens are allowed to view, it shouldn't control other forms of aesthetic expression, of which fine wine is an example.
People under twenty-one should be allowed to drink wine as they please. If they can't, they will be unable to develop their palates. And they have a right to enjoy Meursault just as they have a right to view a painting by Titian. As best I can tell, the 21-year-old drinking age has also been entirely ineffective at its intended goal of preventing drunk-driving fatalities. To the extent that is a serious problem, the more reasonable thing to do would be to ban under-21 driving, which would likely more effective and would have other beneficial externalities (i.e., reducing driving).
But even if restrictions on teenagers were appropriate, the government shouldn't be regulating adults' wine consumption simply to prevent teenagers from drinking. Teenagers' supposed inability to drink responsibly has nothing to do with adults and doesn't justify subjecting them to identity checks, especially when the wine they're buying makes it almost certain that they're not underage and drinking irresponsibly.
A Humble White from Domaine de la Romanée Conti
A Haute-Côtes de Nuits Blanc from Domaine de la Romanée Conti? Surely you jest. Or as the French would say, "C'est un blague ou quoi!" But as Neal Martin reports in his latest installment of Wine-Journal (now housed on eRobertParker.com; subscription, alas, required), this is no joke. This most famous of Burgundy domaines, producer of seven grand crus, is bottling a simple white wine from one of the humblest appellations in the region. But unlike the novelty bottling from Chateau Palmer I wrote on the other day, this is solely a charitable venture from Aubert de Villaine, co-owner of DRC, as all of the proceeds will be donated for the restoration of the historic monastery of Saint Vivant.
There have been scattered sightings of the bottling reported on French wine boards for the past few years, but Martin's, I believe, is the first major report in English. Further details on the venture can be found here in French and Japanese. For those without either language, here's my schoolboy's rendering from the French (corrections heartily welcomed):
The Monastery of Saint-Vivant is situated above a splendid site behind the Côte de Nuits and Vosne-Romanée. Founded around the year A.D. 900 by a vassal of the Dukes of Burgundy, and attached to the Abbey of Cluny in the 11th century, it is a "haut-lieu" of Burgundy, unfortunately in ruins today, which the Association "Abbey of Saint-Vivant" has undertaken for some years to preserve.
This Haute-Côtes de Nuits is made from vines situated in an enclave in the abbey. Proceeds from the sales of the bottles are given to the Assocation, which will devote them entirely to the work of preservation.
Martin declines to give a tasting note for the 2003, writing " it seems inappropriate for a wine not commercially available." It is quite unclear whether DRC's famously rigorous methods can work a kind of magic with vines of such humble pedigree. Martin reports that only 60 cases are produced annually, with most going to the French restaurant Lavinia. Yet the British scribe was perhaps a little naive in declaring: "do not expect to see them on eBay." A quick Google search revealed that indeed one bottle of the 2000 DRC Haute-Côtes de Nuits Blanc was offered on eBay.fr this March! (Bidding went up to 25 euros, below the reserve price; the picture above is from the now-concluded auction). Happy hunting!
