Back to Work, Again, and Food for Thought from 'the Art of Eating'

Instead of blogging, last night I read a wonderful article about Beaujolais in Edward Behr's quarterly The Art of Eating.  Which, in turn, gave me things I wish I had more time to blog about.

But in the meantime, it's back to the driving (on slushy roads, too often) working grind for me.  And in cooking, back to the tried-and-true favorites.  Tonight, a winter classic that never fails to please -- what my mother always called Chicken Cacciatore, also known as chicken legs stewed with carrot and mushroom and canned tomatoes.  It's always delicious.  I hope my children will learn the same dish from me and make it when they're old enough to appreciate its joys, too (one of which being the joy of making a delicious dish out of the cheapest possible ingredients).

But I digress.  Behr's article (published in number 67 of his quarterly) is subtitled "the Goal of a Gulpable Wine."  It deals with what we call over here the "drainability factor;" ie the goal of making a wine that invites you to drink more of it because you like its taste, not necessarily just because you want it to make you drunk.  A quote from the article came from Claude Geoffray, the maker of those magnums of 2000 Cote de Brouilly we so enjoyed with our Chestnut ravioli on Christmas, and the Rabbit terrine and Chestnut soup on New Year's Eve (and, yes, I promise notes on cooking Rabbit in various forms, I really do, and really will do it, soon).  But here's Behr filtering Geoffray, commenting on the fact that he prefers wines that are "refreshing."  "That's not necessarily what consumers prefer now. (Behr) 'when they open wines on the weekend, they want a special wine -- we {French} don't drink wine any more -- but for people like me who drinke wine every day. . . .'(Geoffray)".  The trailing-off thought suggesting that there IS a place for lighter, more quaffable wines.

I guess this is a point I've been realising, in my little household where we (lucky us) do get to drink wine every day, and do.  For a long timenow I've shied away from big, heavy wines (the bigger Rhones, Bordeaux in general, New World wines almost entirely). More and more, though, I don't even like to drink socalled "lighter" wines  (like Burgundy or Loire reds) that I find too young, even great ones.  Not that I don't like to drink young wine, because I find many young wines delightful.  In fact, I adore drinking Beaujolais BECAUSE it is so good and delightful when young.  But I have raised a protest lately against opening bottles of young Burgundy.  (I know, we all should be so lucky as to drink any Burgundy at all!).  And still, why open one, even a good one, when it is too young to be truly pleasurable?  Because young (good) Burgundy is still a little angular, a little too high on the acid, a little tannic.  It doesn't invite you back to drink more, unless it is to analyse what the wine could become, given time.

But, you know, there's tasting time, and then there's dinner time.  Who wants to analyse their wine at dinner time?  Not (even) me.  At dinner time, I want to drink my wine. 

And enjoy it.  I love well-made, natural Beaujolais made by people who care about their wine and care about having light, refreshing, gulpable wines.  More power to these people, mentioned by Behr:  first of all, the "Gang of Four" (so nicknamed by their importer, Kermit Lynch, who is an Important Person around here as well as supplying much of my husband's livelihood) in Morgon -- Guy Breton, Jean Foilard, Marcel Lapierre, and Jean-Paul Thevenet.  Personally, I confess to preferring Foilard, but my friend and neighbor Phil is crazy about LaPierre almost to a fault, and Behr mentions an '02 Breton wine as soaring in "sweet deliciousness."  Other producers he interviews include Chateau Thivin (Claude Geoffray's property), as well as Paul Janin et Fils, Jean-Paul Brun of Dom Terres Dorees (which I sell), and the Desvignes in Morgon (whose wines I should sell more of).  I drink all of these wines as regularly as I can.

At any rate, if you are interested in the subject, or even just in reading some sometimes-very-fine writing about food, travel, and wine, you should seek out this issue (no 67 of The Art of Eating).  I don't know if it's available on newstands or not.  Here it its website.  It also has an article written by Derrick Schneider, who writes a notable blog called An Obsession With Food.

In parting, I have to say that I truly wish I had more time for consumption of these well-thought-out obsessions of others, instead of becoming consumed with the dailyness of working, driving around, exercising, eating, drinking good wines, reading daily blogs and trying to absorb bits of the newspaper/New Yorker (what WAS that odd Lorrie Moore story about this week??? anyone who got it and/or didn't find it HORRIBLY MORBID please let me know).  I find myself thinking lately that if only I were sharper, or perhaps more organized, or willing to sleep less. . .  .

But there it is.  In the meantime, I was glad to read Behr yesterday and stay up past my bedtime because his article was fascinating enough to keep me reading.  And I was glad to keep thinking about what he said, today.  And I may give him another read tonight (because I finally have admitted to myself that I am NOT sharp enough to get a firm hold on anything the first time through.  I probably would have done better papers in college if I'd known that, then.  But THEN?  I thought I was smart.  I have since learned that in fact I'm a little slower on the uptake than even I like to admit.)

Comments

[mc]

Ok, just got to my New Yorker today, and I, too, would love an explanation of the Lorrie Moore story. WTF? Doesn't sound like her at all. And I'm not sure I got the story in any way, other than the feeling of regret and confusion it imparted. If you ever get an answer from anyone, let me know!