The French Menu Cookbook: The Food and Wine of France - Season by Delicious Season. Richard Olney
of course, always be chilled, but never iced. They should be chilled as rapidly as possible; the classic ice bucket is still the best method. A couple of hours in the refrigerator or a half hour in the freezer (provided one does not forget it is there) will do the trick; but a prolonged stay in the refrigerator will rob a wine of all its qualities—it is cassé—broken.
Any old wine, white or red, should be uncorked a couple of hours before serving. If this is not feasible, it should be decanted before serving, for the aeration or “breathing” is essential to the development of the bouquet. Even in restaurants, if I know in advance what I want to drink, I always telephone several hours ahead to ask that the wine be uncorked in time, for I have too often known a great wine to begin to open out only as the bottle was being finished.
White wine rarely contains sediment other than an occasional deposit of tartar crystals, which, being relatively heavy, do not disturb the wine. A red wine that contains a certain amount of sediment must be handled very gently from the moment it leaves the cellar to the moment the last drop is poured. (Often, in restaurants, one sees bottles turned upside down, shaken, tossed around, before being thrown into their wicker cradles, then poured with the greatest of “loving” care and ceremony before the client; the liquid that comes out, of course, is mud.) If possible, the bottle should be stood upright for a couple of days before it is to be served; otherwise, a cradle into which it may be slipped sidewise without disturbing the sediment is the best solution. If it is not decanted, it should be poured slowly and regularly without ever returning to an upright position until all glasses have been filled. To decant a wine, a candle or a small light bulb should be placed behind the decanter and slightly to the right (for a right-handed person) so that, while pouring, the light is directly behind the neck of the bottle. Tilt the bottle slowly with a steady hand and pour steadily, watching the transparency through the neck of the bottle. The moment the wine becomes troubled, stop pouring. Properly poured, the wine in the decanter will be completely limpid and only one-third to one-half glass of liquid and residue will remain in the bottle.
The glass from which one drinks should be uncut, undecorated and uncolored, so that the color of the wine may be properly admired. It should be stemmed and large enough to hold approximately one-half cup when less than half filled. The form may be that of a tulip or a ballon; the essential thing is that the circumference of the lip be somewhat smaller than that of the rest of the glass, so that when the glass is from one-third to one-half full, the bouquet may develop in the space above. It is attractive, but not necessary, to serve white and red wines in differently shaped glasses. Traditionally, Burgundy and Bordeaux (as well as many other wine regions) have their own glasses, but, in practice, “claret” glasses are too small to serve for anything but water and Burgundy glasses are too large to avoid ostentation.
To taste a wine properly, I do not feel that it is too indiscreet to pucker one’s mouth (the French say that one forms one’s mouth in a cul de poule) and suck air through the wine before letting it spread to all corners of the mouth and tongue (although, admittedly, one’s table companions may be surprised at this performance).
In selecting wines for a meal, it is logical to begin with the lightest and driest of whites (they are also perfect as aperitifs and do not paralyze the palate as do, for instance, dry martinis), which may accompany hors d’oeuvre, light seafood dishes, etc., and work through richer, though still dry, white wines with hot sauced fish dishes and certain other white meats, vegetable gratins, cheese soufflés (fish cooked in red wine are, preferably, accompanied by red wine). In moving from a white to a red wine, neither should suffer by comparison (thus, it would be a pity to leap from a Muscadet into a Lafite or to serve a Beaujolais after a Corton-Charlemagne), and the red wine that follows another should be bigger of body and older. In short, work from white to red, small to large, and young to old. But one must not take all of this too seriously; and it is great fun to make up rules and then disprove them, or attempt to. In general it is easier to marry wines from the same region than those of disparate character, but it is often amusing, and sometimes exciting, to switch from Bordeaux to Burgundy, or from old to young, or from Burgundy to Bordeaux (which is severely disapproved!). Assuming the dessert to be of the right character, one’s pleasure is always enriched by finishing a meal with a great Sauternes. (The name Sauternes when referring to the region in France or wines from that region is always spelled with a final s. The s has been dropped in English when the name refers to American-made wines).
Some French Wines
With some rare exceptions, the finest wines of France are produced in the Rhône Valley, Burgundy, the region of Bordeaux, and the Loire Valley—Champagne being a world apart, although it does produce lovely still white wines, blancs de blancs natures. The term, blanc de blancs distinguishes any white Champagne wine, made uniquely of white grapes, from other Champagnes made of red grapes (blancs de noirs) or of a mixture of white and red grapes. When found on wine labels from other regions, where all white wines are made from white grapes, the term is merely a bit of pretentious nonsense designed to flatter snobbish instincts through its associations with champagne and “elegance.”
Central and southern France produce vast quantities of small wines, many of which carry the V.D.Q.S. (Vins Délimités de Qualité Supérieur) label of quality. Their qualities are best appreciated in the regions that produce them (although I cannot take too seriously the notion that certain wines cannot travel—no wines travel well, but all wines travel. It is, rather, I think, those circumstances that render these little wines pleasant that refuse to travel with them—the abrupt coolness of a cellar on a sweltering, thirsty day and the appeasement lent by a light, young, cool wine, combined with the teasing perfume of the earthen floor, impregnated with wine spilled and spit there by tasters for decades, if not centuries).
The few wines discussed on the following pages are among the best known in France and the most widely exported. They nearly all fall under the control of the French Institut National des Appellations d’Origine (hence, the term Appellation Contrôlée to be found on the labels). When referring to an Appellation Contrôlée d’Origine, I shall, for simplicity’s sake, often use the abbreviation “A.O.”
The order of presentation is unrelated to respective qualities, but follows, rather, a geographical logic. The descriptions of the various wines are, inevitably, vague, and in any case one may come to know wines only through tasting (although it does not follow that those far more experienced than myself can always pinpoint a wine tasted blindly).
THE RHÔNE VALLEY
The southern part of the Rhône Valley, near Avignon, produces one splendid red wine, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, whose qualities are sometimes masked by an excess of alcohol content. A good Châteauneuf acquires a great deal of elegance with age. A few of the Châteauneuf vineyards make a small quantity of white wine—that of the Domaine de Mont-Redon is particularly successful. Tavel, Chusclan, and Lirac produce rosé wines, highly perfumed, with perhaps too high an alcoholic content to drink with the abandon that, well chilled, they incite.
Traveling north, the wines of Crozes-Hermitage and Hermitage, both red and white, are remarkable, less overpowering than their southern neighbors, and finally, as one approaches Lyons, the Côte-Rôtie is perhaps the subtlest of the Côtes-du-Rhône reds. All are made with a number of different grape varieties, of which the Syrah dominates in the Côte-Rôtie and the Grenache (a variety useful in raising the alcohol content of a wine) too often dominates in the Châteauneufs. All are, at best, ideal red meat, game and cheese wines.
A famous white wine, the Château Grillet, is made in the Côte-Rôtie area, but so limited is its production that it belongs, essentially, to the realm of wine literature.
THE BURGUNDIES
North of Lyons is Beaujolais country. Lyons itself claims to be fed by three rivers, of which the third is Beaujolais—in fact, wine to a Lyonnais means Beaujolais, and I have never drunk a bad one in that city—nor one that was over a year old. The wines of Beaujolais are made from the Gamay grape (a small amount of white Beaujolais wine has been produced in recent