Don’t Argue with an Expert
Cooking for Italians peels away all pretensions. You either get it right or you don’t. So, here's some advice. Don't argue wine with someone whose house is surrounded by vineyards, and who got his first taste as an infant when his grandfather, according to family tradition, put a few drops on his tongue.
You were usually in somewhat safe territory when you paired wine with a meal, if you kept to the usual red with meat and white with fish, but I felt that attitudes were changing from the traditional, and mistakenly thought that the wine I chose one evening was not that unconventional.
We were hosting Italian house guests, and I was cooking Swedish with a touch of Italy. Our dinner began with an appetizer made from crayfish tails in a mix of creme fraiche, mayonnaise, red onion, caviar and dill on rye bread squares that I had baked and pan fried in butter. As a second course, I served an acceptably creamy seafood risotto with North Sea shrimp, and as the main course, served filet of pork garnished with sautéed chanterelle mushrooms, fresh from the forest. To accompany the meal, I had chilled several bottles of Pinot Grigio, a fruity and refreshing white wine, that in my opinion, suited the summer temperature and served it with the first two seafood courses, and even felt that it would be suitable with the pork.
One of the guests, the group’s designated wine aficionado, came into the kitchen holding an unopened Pinot Grigio and said apologetically, “Francis this wine shouldn’t be served with the pork filet." I didn´t protest or say that I liked its tart, fruitiness and that there was a changing attitude toward whites. Nor did I have the inclination to discuss or to defend my choice of wine with someone, who not only had strong preferences and a firsthand knowledge of the intricacies of the beverage, but probably got his first taste when his father or grandfather put a drop of it on his tongue when he was an infant.
Not so much to rectify my mistake, as to make a quiet statement, albeit with a touch of provocation, I brought up several bottles of the red Tuscan, Brunello di Montalcino, one of the premier Italian wines that I had been saving. As I was putting the final touches on the evening’s dinner, my discerning guest came back with the unopened bottles and again in the vein of instructing me said, “sorry Francis this wine isn’t suitable either.” Already knowing the answer, I asked, “Why not?” “Of course, Brunello is “molto buono,” excellent, but it is too robust, and its intensity will overwhelm the pork.” And he was right on that score also, but I already knew that as I climbed the cellar stairs.
Looking back on that evening, a lighter Primitivo or Montepulciano d’Abruzzo probably would have been better, but mistakes are always an opportunity for learning.