The farmer’s market around the corner from our apartment is a humble one, to be sure. Unlike the Union Square market, our outpost is only open from mid-spring to early fall. But the produce they bring in is out of this world. In the summer, I switch from heavier fare that has me slaving over the stove for hours to lighter, vegetable-based dishes. The less our oven stays on, the cooler our apartment is. Besides that, vegetables, to me, are the flavor of warm weather.

So I must switch to drinking sangria and beer come summer, right? Wrong! Although many people are frightened by the prospect of matching vegetables with wines, it’s really a natural pairing. If you think about it, the grapes used to make the wine and the vegetables you are cooking (or not cooking) have more in common than a cabernet and a sirloin steak. You might be surprised what some of the great match-ups are.

One of my favorite things to make when entertaining in the summer is an easy asparagus side dish that is great served at room temperature. Using about a pound of trimmed asparagus, I heat two or three tablespoons of olive oil in a sauté pan on low heat with five thinly sliced garlic cloves. After the oil has heated the garlic through, I add four or five roughly chopped sun-dried tomatoes. Once the mixture has cooked for five minutes, I bump the heat up to medium high and add the asparagus, cooking for another five to seven minutes.

This is amazing with a New Zealand sauvignon blanc like the  ($18.99 at Elite Wine, 558 3rd Ave. at 37th Street, 646-658-7548). The crisp, citrusy flavors of the wine compliment the green, grassy flavors of the asparagus perfectly.

Vegetarian cuisine doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll walk away from the table hungry. If you want something hearty that will stick to your ribs, a ratatouille is the perfect summer stew. Start by sautéing a chopped onion, four minced garlic cloves and a diced zucchini in a medium pot with olive oil. After everything has softened and you’ve flavored the mixture with salt and pepper, add a can of crushed tomatoes and a handful of chopped Kalamata olives. Let it simmer for a half hour and match it with a pinot noir like the Cooper Hill Pinot Noir 2010 from the Willamette Valley in Oregon ($20.99 at 67 Wine and Spirits, 179 Columbus Ave. at 68th St., 212-724-6767). The acidity from the tomatoes and the natural acidity of the grape will cancel each other out and point up the fruity qualities of the wine and the richness of the ratatouille.

The perfect summer pasta dish is always primavera in my book. Mine always starts with sautéing six garlic cloves and a tablespoon of red pepper flakes in olive oil over low heat. After that has steeped, I add chopped summer squash and roughly chopped artichoke hearts. While I’m boiling the pasta, I turn up the heat and add purple cauliflower florets, broccoli rabe and a little salt and finish the dish by throwing in the pasta and adding a handful of grated pecorino off the heat.

This deserves a wine with a lot of fruit and personality, like the Cline Viognier 2009 ($13.99 at Beacon Wines and Spirits, 2120 Broadway at 74th St., 212-877-0028). The richness and slight fruitiness of the pecorino matches amazingly with the full-throttle tropical fruit in the viognier.

You don’t have to give up the meat completely for summer. Where would this great country be without hot dogs and hamburgers grilling on the coals? But if you decide to lighten up and turn down the heat in your kitchen, you’ll still have plenty of drink options besides a watery beer with lime.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

Well, I’ve already checked into the summer rental in my mind. I’ve already tucked away my trove of heavy reds and invested in at least a case-worth of refreshing and light summery whites. And there are thousands to choose from. But, when I think about my ideal summer sipper, I almost always turn to one area first: France’s Loire Valley. In the northwestern corner of France, this area is often underestimated and overlooked, but it has an amazing array of versatile offerings. At over 600 miles in length,the river offers wines that vary greatly in style, but all subregions contribute to the great summer white wine collective.

Starting as far inland as the valley extends, we find the area of the Loire that encompasses the famous white wines of Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé. In this neck of the woods, Sauvignon Blanc is king, and it is argued that most great Sauvignon Blancs made around the world attempt to duplicate the flavor and nuance of these great wines. Because Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé are so well known, they tend to be the most expensive wines that come from the Loire. While only a Sauvignon Blanc made from grapes inside the strict confines of the Sancerre or Pouilly-Fumé areas can carry this prestigious name, wines made from Sauvignon Blanc from just outside of these areas can be just as good without commanding the same price. Henri Bourgeois Sauvignon Blanc 2010 ($12.99 at Yorkshire Wine and Spirits, 1646 1st Avenue at 85th Street, 212-717-5100) falls into this category. Grapefruit flavor and scents of fresh-cut grass and flint make this a pitch perfect Loire Sauvignon Blanc.

In the Central Loire, the areas tend to have more distinct personalities from subregion to subregion.
While the flavor profiles may change as you travel, Chenin Blanc is almost always the grape that dominates the white wines of these collected areas. Chenin Blanc is a chameleon grape that can taste as full bodied and complex as a Chardonnay from Burgundy, or as light and sweet as a German Riesling. The best-known incarnation of this grape from the Central Loire is Vouvray. Even within this area, Chenin Blanc is made
into different styles of Vouvray, from sticky sweet to austere and bone dry. The best examples tend to straddle the line between the two extremes. A great example of this is Domaine de Vigneau- Chevreau Vouvray Sec 2010 ($21.00 at 67 Wine, 179 Columbus Ave. at 68th Street, 212-724-6767). Lots of white peach and apricot flavors burst onto the palate, and a veritable bouquet of wildflowers are present on the nose. This is the absolute best that the Central Loire has to offer at this price point.

The westernmost area of the Loire sees the river empty into the Atlantic and the terrain turn from fertile to rocky. This is where the lean and minerally Muscadet wines of the Loire are made. Contrary to what the name suggests, these wines are not made from the Muscat grape, but from the obscure Melon de Bourgogne grape. The best examples of these light white wines are the ones that are left to mature on their spent yeast cells (or lees) after they ferment. This gives the otherwise flimsy wine more body and character. When choosing a Muscadet, always look for the words Sur Lie on the bottle to ensure this. Domaine de la Batardière Muscadet Sèvre et Maine, 2010 ($11.99 at Beacon
Wines and Spirits, 2120 Broadway at 74th   Street, 212-877-0028) is a perfect example of this style of Muscadet. Almost as light as the ocean spray, but with just enough creaminess to match perfectly with any raw shellfish, this is a must have for any summer seafood feast. So, when  searching for light summer whites of any style, look to the north of France for inspiration. There’s enough variety to keep you trying something new every week till it’s time to put that seersucker suit back in mothballs.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

Jewish wines that are delicious and complex do exist

Passover has come and gone already this year, but if there’s one question that I get more than any other from my fellow Jews, it is this: “Why is kosher wine so bad?”

It could almost be added as the fifth question in the Passover haggadah.

Wine is a central part of Jewish culture. It is prayed over during the weekly Shabbat, drunk under the chuppa during the exchange of vows, and sipped with relish during many festivals. It would stand to reason that, given how much vino we are required to drink, Jews should probably make the best wine there is.

This is, very sadly, far from true.

Well, I am here to Let My People Go …or at least their palates. Kosher wine doesn’t have to taste like the remnants of a Smucker’s grape jelly jar. It can be drinkable and, yes, even delicious and complex.

The fundamental thing to know about kosher wine is that there are two basic types: mevushal, and non-mevushal.  It is usually the mevushal wines that have given kosher wine a bad name. The process of making a mevushal wine entails flash pasteurization. In a nutshell, due to the intricacies of rabbinic laws concerning kosher diet, any wine that is made and handled by a gentile (or a non-Sabbath-observant Jew), cannot be considered kosher. The wine, however, can be “purified” by boiling it. It only need boil for a split second, but boil it must. After that, it can be served by a gentile and still be considered kosher.

This would all be well and good if heat weren’t wine’s number one enemy. Raising the vino’s temperature to that point, even for a split second, drastically changes the flavor of the wine and robs it of most of its unique characteristics. Drink a little bit of this stuff, and your taste buds will feel as repressed as the protagonist of a Philip Roth novel.

Non-mevushal wines, however, are made completely by Sabbath-observant Jews. By doing this, there is no need to “purify” the wine. Strict kosher observant Jews will only allow other Sabbath-observing Jews to serve this wine to them, to avoid breaking kosher law. If you are serving this wine for a Jewish holiday, however, this will most likely not be an issue.

Making non-mevushal wine is much easier to do in Israel, where keeping kosher is not only a way of life, but the norm. And it just so happens that grapes have been grown and wine has been made in Israel for thousands of years.

One of my absolute favorite producers in Israel is Tishbi. Their Tishbi Cabernet Sauvignon / Petite Syrah, 2010 ($11.99 at Crush Wine & Spirits, 153 E. 57th St. btwn. Lexington and 3rd, 212-980-WINE), rivals any Cali-cab I’ve had in the same price range. It has tons of pipe tobacco and leather scents, with big, bold cherry fruit flavors, and the 30 percent Petite Syrah gives it a peppery finish.

If you’re looking for a bold kosher white wine that can hold its own, look no further than Golan Vineyards’ eponymous Golan Chardonnay, 2010 ($15.99 at Beacon Wines & Spirits, 2120 Broadway btwn. 74th and 75th Sts., 646-213-0776). This is a no-nonsense chardonnay with just enough spice, vanilla and tropical fruit flavors. For those who love the unctuous mouth-feel of Napa style chardonnay, you will absolutely fall in love with the flavor profile on this great white.

For something sweet and light to finish off any Jewish celebration, try Dalton’s Sweet Muscato, 2010 ($12.99 at www.hudsonvalleywinesandliquors.com). From the Galilee area of Israel, Dalton’s slightly fizzy Muscato shows that kosher wine can be sweet and interesting at the same time.  Ripe peach, tangerine and honey flavors are balanced by an effervescence that keeps the sweetness from being overbearing.

Above all, always make sure to check that the wine you are buying is a non-mevushal.  Many producers make both mevushal and non-mevushal versions of their products. While this is by no means an epicurean stamp of approval across the board, it will at least ensure that it hasn’t been boiled.

Now, if we can just do something about that gefilte fish.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

We’re in that weird period now in New York City weather; it isn’t cold, but it isn’t hot. In most areas of the country, the weather professionals would refer to this as “spring.” That season, however, does not exist in New York City. Instead, we have an odd handful of weeks that swing wildly from the upper 80s to the lower 60s, sometimes within the same 24-hour period.

This is the time when I start seeing white wines fly off the shelf with a little more regularity. I, however, hold off on drinking whites for a bit longer. It isn’t that I have some kind of “no white after Labor Day”-type rule for my booze—I just want to hold onto my red wine as long as I can.

The reds I drink at this time of year do tend to be a bit lighter, though. I have some friends who have a sensitivity to tartrates (a chemical that is present in a higher concentration in white wine than in red wine), so they drink these lighter reds throughout the summer.

So for those of you out there who aren’t ready to make the full transition to white wine yet, like myself, or for those who may have an adverse reaction to white wine, I would like to offer a selection of red wines on the lighter side. They are just as refreshing poolside as any New Zealand sauvignon blanc or Northern Italian pinot grigio.

Many light reds benefit from being served under room temperature, or slightly chilled, and the one I’m starting with is no exception. I can’t recommend the Gelsomina Lambrusco 2010 ($10.49 at Red, White and Bubbly, 211 5th Ave., at Union St., Brooklyn, 718-636-9463) enough. In the ’70s and early ’80s, lambrusco became synonymous with the brand Riunite and the bubbly, sweet garbage they peddled. In truth, most really good lambrusco is actually fermented to near, if not complete, dryness. It is slightly fizzy, and is drunk in the Emilia-Romagna area of Italy like Coca-Cola.

As I mentioned before, it is best when served slightly chilled. The Gelsomina bursts with ripe, black cherry aromas and more sour cherry and blackberry jam flavors on the palate. You won’t need anything to pair this with to enjoy it to its fullest extent…but if you must eat, it’s the perfect pairing for a roasted veggie panini.

Moving slightly closer to room temp, the Domaine Chassagne Morgon Cotes de Ruillieres Beaujolais 2011 ($17.00 at Park Avenue Liquor, 292 Madison Ave., betw. 40th & 41st Sts., 212-685-2442) is a go-to summer sipper. Another area for wine that has been marred by cheaply made product, Beaujolais has suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous winemaking for decades.

The swill that washes ashore each November for “Nouveau Week” is almost always terrible, tasting like barely fermented grape juice. Because of this, Beaujolais is one of the most underappreciated regions of French winemaking. Situated at the southern tip of Burgundy, its wine is made exclusively from the super-fruity Gamay grape. The Chassagne is an excellent example of how this underdog can soar, with ripe strawberry and raspberry notes that make this a great red to match with salads and other light summer fare. Be sure to serve it under room temperature, but not cold.

Proving that not all summer reds need time in the icebox, the Zaccagnini Montepulciano d’Abruzzo Riserva 2010 ($15.99 at 67 Wine and Spirits, 179 Columbus Ave., at 68th St., 212-724-6767) does just fine right at room temperature. From the middle of Italy’s East Coast, the Montepulciano is and always will be my No. 1 wine pick for margherita pizza. Its slight acidity balances the acidity of the tomato sauce, and the fruity flavors of blackcurrant and cherry preserves cut right through the fresh mozzarella of any pie.

So the next time you arrive at your friend’s rooftop soiree, bring a bottle of red instead. You never know who might be in the mood for red, or who may not be able to drink white wine. You’ll probably make a friend or two in the process, as well!

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

We walked, Natali, our Yorkie Phin and I, down Prospect Park West after a sunny and relaxing day watching kite flyers and picnickers. As we cleared the corner and started toward 7th, where our car was parked, a familiar smell wafted through the air; a smell that I had almost forgotten existed, having been born in the Midwest and moved to New York.

“That’s a smoker,” I said, licking my lips.

“I think it’s a fireplace,” corrected my wife.

“Nope,” I smiled, nodding. “That’s definitely a smoker.”

I tipped my imaginary hat to the person or persons illegally smoking meat in their backyard and officially clicked my internal clock from winter to summer.

While you can, obviously, smoke meat at any time of year, there is something unmistakably summery about the smell of barbecue. And now, with so many decent barbecue joints here in the city, there’s no reason to leave it to the Midwest and the South.

Now, for a wine to match!

“Wine,” you say. “Wouldn’t you rather have a beer with your ribs?”

Actually, no. I have never understood why beer is so inexorably linked to barbecue. Barbecue is heavy, so what sense does it make to drink something that is, itself, also heavy? In addition to the fullness factor, there are so many red wines that have flavor notes that are so perfectly matched to those in barbecue that it seems a crime not to pair them together.

So let me offer you a couple of wines to pair with a couple different types of regional barbecue (all available at many different places throughout the five boroughs).

Let’s start with a Kansas City-style burnt ends sandwich. This is a smoky beef brisket sandwich slathered in piquant sauce. I can think of no better match up for this behemoth than the Seghesio Zinfandel Sonoma County 2010 ($28.99 at Beacon Wines and Spirits, 2120 Broadway, at 74th St, 212-877-0028). It starts with ripe plum fruit notes and finishes bold with pepper, clove and cinnamon flavors that do battle nicely with any piece of smoked beef you can throw its way.

If you are feasting on the very different, but equally tasty, North Carolina-style pulled pork, you are eating a sauce that is not tomato-based but is, instead, vinegar-based. While vinegar can be a bit of a challenge to match wine with, a perfect flavor pairing for this lighter style of barbecue would be the Willm Riesling Reserve 2011 ($11.95 at Sherry-Lehmann, 505 Park Ave., at 59th Street, 212-838-7500). You heard me right: I am recommending a white wine with barbecued pork.

While Alsatian-style rieslings tend to be a touch less sweet than their German cousins, this particular wine still maintains a touch of residual sugar on the finish. The sweetness will counter the spiciness of the marinade, but the natural acidity of the riesling grape will actually cancel out the overly sour qualities of the vinegar in the sandwich. The pork will taste richer and the smokiness of the sandwich will become the main event.

In St. Louis, it is pork ribs braised in a sweeter sauce that are then returned to the grill that take center stage. I am going to recommend something that may sound crazy, but if you try it, you too will be a convert. Fonseca Ruby Port ($18.99 at PJ Wine, 4898 Broadway, betw. 204th and 207th streets, 212-567-5500) is an unusual but mind-blowing match-up for these sticky, caramelized ribs.

The sweetness from both the port and the ribs will cancel each other out, and you will taste the subtler flavors of the smoky meat and the fruitiness of the port in a way that is impossible should you taste the two independent of one another. Let us also remember that port is a red wine and, like all red wine, has tannins. The tannins will cut through the fattiness of the ribs and make them even more succulent than they were before.

So the next time you hit your favorite barbecue joint here in the city or elsewhere, check out the wine list before you fill up on suds!

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

After my article last week about syrahs from northern Rhone, I had a friend ask me a question that I’ve fielded numerous times about that region and many, many others: “If Syrah and Shiraz are the same,” he asked, “why don’t they taste the same?”

It is the question that has haunted sommeliers since the 1970s: Old World vs. New World. No phrase is as bandied about as those five words in the world of wine. Is it really a “vs.” situation? Is one better than the other? And what is the difference—if there is, indeed, a difference at all?

The concept of Old World/New World didn’t really exist in the early 1970s. Respectable wine came from France, straw-bottle chianti came from Italy and Gallo came from California. Then the revolution happened. Innovators like Robert Mondavi and landmark events like the Paris Tasting of 1976 changed the landscape forever.

The new world of wine emerged, and for the next several decades, wines began to fall squarely into two camps: Old World and New World.

The first thing that distinguishes whether a wine is Old World or New World is where it is made. Areas of the world that have been important in winemaking for hundreds of years tend to fall into the Old World category—Bordeaux, Burgundy, Rhone and the Loire Valley regions of France; the Piemonte, Tre Venezie and several other smaller regional spots of Italy; Germany; much of Spain; and Portugal are all considered Old World. The United States, Australia, South America, New Zealand and South Africa are considered New World.

There are confusing areas, however, like the Languedoc-Roussillon area of southern France and the Rioja area of Spain, which make wines that can be considered, taste-wise, both Old and New World.

Which brings us to the second category that distinguishes the two types of wine: taste. Generally speaking, New World wines are what wine snobs call “fruit forward.” What that really means is that when you take a sip of one of these wines, the first thing you taste is bold fruit flavor. Old World wines may have a fruitiness to them, but it may not be the main event, so to speak. There are many other earthier, spice-driven, herbal flavors that are hallmarks of the Old World-style wines.

Also, while New World wines are simpler, easier to drink on their own and, by some accounts, more immediately accessible, Old World wines are more complex and are oftentimes better to pair with food.

Another very important part of what differentiates Old World wines from New World wines are climate and soil. Old World areas tend to have soils that are less fertile and are sometimes downright rocky. This may sound terrible for growing grapes, but the struggle the grapes go through to grow in these areas produces a lower yield and, therefore, more intense grapes with a stronger flavor. Very often, these regions also have cooler climates, which also prolongs the growing season, adding to the complexity.

In many New World areas, the soil is fertile and the climate is warmer. This produces a higher yield of grapes that ripen quicker, making a wine that is, very often, simpler, fruitier and higher in alcohol.

The final component of what differentiates New World from Old World is winemaking technique and philosophy. This is part of the reason New World-style wines can be made in Spain and the south of France. With New World wines, new American oak is often used, which imparts a stronger flavor and smell than French oak. With Old World wines, the emphasis is often put on making wines that are complex and layered. Oftentimes, wines are made that aren’t meant to be opened until many years after they’ve been released.

To get a good idea of how Old World and New World wines compare, get two wines made from the same grape but from different areas, like the Domaine Carneros Pinot Noir (New World) and the Chateau de la Maltroye Bourgogne Rouge (Old World). Both are pinot noir, but the difference will astonish you and your palate will be illuminated.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

Just a few of the market offerings at Épicerie Boulud.

The avenues of the Upper West Side, in spots, can feel like someone dropped the Mall of America in the Grand Canyon, a wide-open valley of enormous glass-fronted chain shops and banks. And while elected officials and community members work to change zoning restrictions to prevent this disorienting trend from spreading, there are many spots where it’s already too late.

It’s a community of local favorites—residents know where to go for the best bread, the quiet drink before dinner, the best burger. But these aren’t always obvious to the naked eye. A casual stroller can end up pounding the pavement for hours just to find a non-Starbucks cappuccino, wondering all the while, “This can’t be it, can it?”

No, it can’t. Thankfully, one of the city’s most beloved chefs, Daniel Boulud, has taken it upon himself to relieve these huddled masses, opening not one but three of his eponymous establishments as a beacon to the confused, the hungry, the frustrated. If you have no idea what’s good around you, just look for the magic word “Boulud,” and you know you can stop trying to puzzle it out.

Boulud Sud is a Mediterranean take on his classic French training. Bar Boulud is a more casual approach to that classic French food, minus the starched tablecloths. And Épicerie Boulud is…everything else.

Going to Lincoln Center but have some time to kill beforehand? Taking a stroll in Central Park and want to take along a picnic? Need to pick up something to make for dinner? Épicerie Boulud has you covered.

The market/cafe/bar opened just under a year ago next door to the established Bar Boulud at Broadway and 64th Street, creating a mini-empire on the block. The glass-fronted shop is studded with elbow-height steel tables, with a granite-topped bar along one side and a dazzling array of deli cases stretching the length of the back wall. Baked goods and cashiers take up the other wall, while minimal market shelving separates the shopping and eating zones.

At breakfast you can take your pick from a delicate yogurt parfait to a Spanish egg tortilla. Lunchtime will get you anything from a thoughtfully composed cheese plate to a classic Parisian jambon beurre sandwich (with housemade ham, naturally) and lobster bisque. In the evening, choose from a selection of East and West coast oysters shucked to order or pick up a few éclairs for a late-night treat.

It’s rare that an all-things-to-all-people approach to food is successful, but Épicerie Boulud makes it work. Much of this is thanks to the strength of Boulud’s talent and approachable charm. He comes from a now-endangered species of chef who, while armed to the teeth with accolades and training, ultimately wants to make people happy. He is a chef who, if you want a hamburger, will make you a hamburger—not a deconstructed hamburger or his evocation of the memory of a hamburger, just the best possible hamburger he can make.

This is why one of his perennial bestsellers, so popular it made the leap from his Lower East Side menu to the bar here, is the DBGB dog. Using his impeccable French charcuterie training and his decades of American service, Boulud created a hot dog so perfectly hot doggish it needs no innovation. Similarly, the banh mi uses those same charcuterie skills to make the ubiquitous Vietnamese sandwich a thing both Lincoln Center doyennes and Saigon natives would happily call their own.

It’s a genuine delight to pop into Épicerie Boulud in any state of mind and be able to find just the thing to sate your appetite, but it’s at its best around 7 p.m. That’s when theatergoers lean against the bar with a glass of wine and a dozen oysters, nannies stop in with their charges for a final treat before handing them back to mom and dad and commuters pick up a loaf of bread for the next morning’s breakfast. It’s when it feels most like a community—which, after all, the UWS is.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a bit about the basics of pairing wine with food. I received a lot of questions from friends who read the column and wanted more specifics, so this week I’m going to expand on some of the principles I introduced in the last piece.
The first question, which I got from more people than any other, is, “What about wine and cheese?” This seems to be an area that is more daunting and intimidating than it needs to be. The ideas behind matching wine with cheese are as simple as the ideas behind matching wine with any other food—the three basic principles still apply.
There are an enormous number of cheeses that have a marked acidity to them. This is due to the natural acids that are present in cow, sheep and goat’s milk. Under certain conditions, when those cheeses age, the enzymes that are present can make the acidity even sharper. This is the case with fresh goat’s milk cheese (or chevre, as it is called in France), which I mentioned a couple of weeks ago.
There are many other cheeses that have the same kind of sharpness to them. Humboldt Fog, which is also made from goat’s milk, and Bûcheron both fall into this category. In this instance, I would match them, with a wine that has acidity, as well. As I mentioned last week, this will hide the sourness and bring the more subtle flavors in the cheeses front and center.
Then there is the entire palette of blue cheeses. Many of these are so strong that they are an acquired taste, but to those who appreciate them, they are among the highest regarded in the world. A classic pairing for most robust blue cheeses is port. This goes with the second principle I discussed last week: pairing opposite tastes together. In this case, it is salty and sweet.
Even to someone who isn’t head over heels for the blue-veined curd, this pairing can make it palatable. Match a port with a blue Shropshire and you’ll taste caramel, toasted hazelnut and a host of other intense flavors you’d never thought were there.
The ultra-creamy cheeses present their own problems. With these, sometimes the fat content is so high that many people can only take a tiny portion before their palate is overwhelmed. The third principle is the best to use here; to match opposing textures. In this case, a rich and decadent Brillat-Savarin, which coats the tongue with every bite, should be matched with a heavier sparkling wine, like a blanc de noir. The bubbles clean the palate between bites, making the cheese less heavy and more enjoyable.
Aside from the flavor profiles, a popular idea in the wine and food world is to match wines and cheeses together that originate from the same area. This goes to the French idea of terroir, which is the concept that the land, the air and the specific weather patterns and climate of any area can be tasted in the food and wine that are made from the produce of that place. If a wine from Burgundy tastes like Burgundy, then wouldn’t a cheese from Burgundy match with that wine? In many cases, the answer is yes. And, staying with the Burgundy example, there are a number of runny cheeses from the area, such as époisses, that match brilliantly with the delicate and complex pinot noirs from that region.
Then I got hit with the second big question, which is “what about spicy food?” I quickly touched on it in the opening to my last piece on pairing but didn’t fully unpack it. The basic concept here is to put out the fire. It’s similar to the idea behind opposing tastes, but what you’re doing is tempering the heat. The best way to do that is to drink something with a moderate amount of sweetness to it. A riesling from the Mosel area of Germany is exactly what a spicy vindaloo wants to help cool its jets.
Keep the wine and food questions coming! And don’t be afraid to experiment yourself to find out what works and what doesn’t.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

While we were watching one of these celebrity chefs emptying half a bottle of wine into a pan recently, my wife turned to me and said

“I hate wine in my food. It just makes it taste boozy.”

“Only if they do it wrong,” I said.

“Nope,” She retorted, “I just don’t like
alcohol in my food.”

“Oh, I thought you liked my chicken
stew.”

Natali sat up straight and stared at me as though she had just been told that I had kidnapped the Lindbergh baby.

“You put wine in the stew?”

“I sure do.”

We eventually worked out our issue that night, but we did discuss the idea of alcohol in food for some time afterwards. There are many practical reasons one might use wine in food, actually. To understand why you might want to up the alcoholic content of your evening entrée, let’s look at it from a scientific point of view.

Alcohol is a natural preservative. Back in the day, before everyone had a Frigidaire in their kitchen, baked goods were made and consumed within a day or two of being made, especially delicate baked goods like cakes and pies. For a special occasion like Christmas, when a lot of the food had to be made beforehand, families looked for ways to preserve these sweets so they would last until they were needed.

In the United Kingdom, the tradition of dousing a pudding (or cake) in alcohol was invented to keep the sweet stuff from drying out or rotting. This became a tradition in the Southern United States, as well, with the traditional spicy bourbon cakes. Now, the flavor has become synonymous with the holidays, but it started out of necessity.

Alcohol burns at a high temperature. Different levels of heat add different types of flavor to a myriad of foods. The idea of searing a piece of beef over high heat to create a crust, then finishing the cooking over low heat to keep the inside from drying out illustrates this. But what if all you need is a mere couple of seconds of ultra-high heat toward the end of the cooking process to add a little extra caramelization to the dish? Add a little alcohol and set it on fire! An alcohol like brandy burns at over 500 degrees Fahrenheit. It can take just a handful of seconds of ultra-hot, high-alcohol flame to turn a couple of slowly simmering bananas and sugar into decadent bananas Foster.

Just as you might match a certain wine with a certain food, so, too, would you use that wine to add a complimentary flavor to your dish. While I do think pouring a bottle of wine into a pot of “stuff” is a technique that is a little overused, there is a culinary component here that is important. It’s the same idea you want to think about when you are pairing a wine to drink with a meal that you are cooking.

Take braised brisket, for example. If you are serving a cut of brisket, which has a good deal of fat to it (and is certainly not a light piece of meat), you would drink a heavy, tannic red wine to match that flavor profile. The same holds true for the kind of wine you would pick to cook it in. The wine will help break down the meat with its natural acidity, making it more tender, but the meat will also absorb the flavor notes of the vino. The end result will not only be tender and juicy, but well balanced as well.

So before you pour that week-old, half-empty bottle down the drain, peruse that cookbook you got as a Christmas present three years ago. You just might surprise yourself with what you concoct!
Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.