I spent the day avoiding real work by preparing for the evening's meal. The menu: roasted chicken on the bbq with lemon and Herbes de Provence; oven-roasted sweet potato wedges in olive oil and rosemary; blanched and sauteed brussel sprouts with loads of butter and nutmeg. But it was the roasted chicken that stuck in my mind as I wandered down to the liquor store. Roasted chicken, roasted chicken, what to pair with the roasted chicken?
I had hoped to find a French Chardonnay to go with our meal, thinking I'd be very clever to serve French wine with Herbes de Provence chicken. But alas, our tiny LCBO offered nothing suitable, and so I was lured in by the Beringer 2006 Napa Valley Chardonnay. Sounds like a reasonable substitute, right? No really, I'm asking, am I right? I know nothing about wine, remember?
I'm certain this dilemma is familiar to many of you. The menu is planned, and we wander into the shop hoping that perfect wine will magically reveal itself to us. It's rather like decorating a room in the wrong order; painting the walls with a colour you just love on the sample chip, only to find later it's a colour that's impossible to accessorize. Chicken you'd think wouldn't be so difficult to pair with wine, and it's not really. My mistake: not thinking of the meal as a whole. The wine I chose was just fine with chicken, but brussel sprouts and sweet potato? Ooops. In the end I yearned for something spicy and comforting. What I chose was lemony and sweet. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.
I decanted the wine into my very glamorous old spagetti-sauce Mason jar--'cause we're just that fancy--and took a good whiff. Don't ask; it's a mystery to me why I immediately thought of the first day of school, and the mixed nuts they serve in the bar at L.A.'s famous Biltmore Hotel. Not a peanut in site, just all of those lovely, salty, expensive nuts I'm too cheap to buy myself, served up in a silver dish that's probably as old as the hotel. Gah, I could go for some of those right about now! Sorry, off topic. Fast forwarding a bit, Karen and I took our first gulp and swish, and we both exclaimed "Lemony!" Lemony, lemony, with a fresh taste that kind of whooshed over your palate. Wha? I found this extremely confusing. I have no experience with Chardonnay; I've tried two in the last month, the only white wine I've drunk in years. The first was spicy and wonderful; the next was so heavy and oakey, you practically had to chew it. This Beringer Chardonnay was so light and citrusy, I wished it were a hot summer day so I could chug the whole bottle. I find it remarkable that one grape can be interpreted so differently.
The lemony notes faded away and was replaced by a decidely pralines & cream flavour that made me suddenly wish for gobs and gobs of whipped cream (I say that as if I don't wish for gobs and gobs of whipped cream all the time!). This new desserty flavour actually wasn't bad with sweet yam wedges and buttery brussel sprouts, but turned me off the lemony chicken. The meal and the wine just didn't quite co-ordinate for me. If I buy this wine again, I'll enjoy it on a hot summer day with a nice big bowl of trifle.
Funny observation: the dinner conversation was a lot like the wine. Karen and I giggled lots, and mused gaily about serious subjects: marriage, love, children, happiness, dreams and ambitions. Serious talk in an un-serious manner. Like the wine: light and bright with underlying substance. I'll have to see if this is a trend.
Beringer's 2006 Napa Valley Chardonnay was purchased at the LCBO for $24.95.
Til next time,
B.
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