He Says, She Says October 2008

Roast Chicken with Garlic, Lemon and Parsley

Wini says: Bonjour! I am writing this month's missive from la belle France, in the fine Roussillon region, where the Grenache grape gets made into fine dessert and aperitif wines called Banyuls . . . .

But I digress.

And I must say that it won't be so bad coming home in a few weeks if I know I can cook up some of Gordon Hamersley's fabulous bistro-inspired recipes, starting with this Roast Chicken.

Anyone who thinks such simple ingredients can't possibly add up to a killer dish needs to head in the kitchen with this recipe right now. It is the very essence of a current style of cooking: Refined Rustic, which sounds like an oxymoron, but one taste will be a revelation.

I think the wine needs to be in the refined-rustic vein, too. And those South of France herbes de Provence are pointing me toward a Viognier. I love the heft of these wines — they'll stand up to the robust roasty flavor of the chicken. Plus, I just can't wait to smell the herbes de Provence in the dish while getting a whiff of the floral notes of the wine — it will take me right back to you-know-where. Of course, the South of France bottles (Condrieu and such) can get pricey. A California version will do just fine.

Chuck says: You poor thing. I hate to think of you having to suffer through all that awful French food and wine. Chin up, chin up — stiff upper lip, and all that . . . .

Now, that Viognier sounds really good! But I just don't know if I can hold off from trying a red with this — especially now that we're getting into fall. Nothing crazy-heavy or tongue-pounding, of course, but it might be hard to argue with a Pinot Noir/roast chicken combo here, wouldn't you say?

If you're a big-time Pinot fan, you might want to check out the California winery, Siduri, which specializes in Pinot Noir. In fact, they actually specialize in single vineyard Pinot Noir, meaning that each bottling they produce comes from just one vineyard, rather than being blended from multiple sites. There are many different Pinot Noirs to choose from — currently, something like 25 — and geographically, the vineyards range from Santa Barbara, Calif., all the way up to Oregon's Willamette Valley. Talk about a good way to compare and contrast similar wines from different locations — this is it!

Bay Scallop Sauté

Wini says: OK, I am kind of a one-note wonder when it comes to scallops. I just love a Chardonnay with this buttery-rich seafood. And with the lemon juice involved, I am looking at a good old Chablis from the Burgundy region of France, because I often find the delicate use of oak lets a nice lemony flavor come through — lemony, but not tart, that is. More lemon chiffon than lemonade . . . get my drift? And yes, Chablis can be pricey, but when you bring out scallops, it is usually a special occasion, n'est-ce pas?

Chuck says: Yeah, but the heck of it is, Chablis isn't at all pricey where you are right now. That's what gets me — you can pay maybe 5 Euros for a pretty decent Chablis over there, but here, you're looking at several times that amount!

But I've got to get over it. You've made a wonderful choice here, for all the right reasons. Before I move on to the next pairing, though, I do want to point out one other interesting reason why Chablis often has that lemony-ness: the Chablis zone is way to the north of the rest of Burgundy. This cooler climate helps the grapes retain lots of acidity, which shows through in the wine. Great pick, pal.

Bay Scallop Chowder

Wini says: Yes, I am still going with Chardonnay, but I want to amp up the butter and cream with this one. I'm looking for a nicely oaked version of the type that has become passé of late, but can still satisfy very much with a creamy dish like this. California and Australia versions sound good, but leave those labeled "unoaked" or those fermented in stainless steel on the shelf this time. I want a little oak and some heft for this transition into fall soup. Et toi, mon vieux pot?

Chuck says: I can go part of the way with you here, but not whole hog. In other words, I wouldn't mind some of the butter and cream you talk about, but simply can't forego having just a kiss of crisp freshness on the finish. (But not as much as the Chablis, for this dish.)

So, I'm actually in favor of some of those stainless-fermented Chards for this. The one I have in mind is the Frog's Leap Chardonnay from Napa Valley, Calif. While fermented in stainless, it also sees some time in French oak. For this particular wine, the combination of stainless fermentation and modest oak works like a charm, but I do have to offer a caveat: Not all wineries are as successful as Frog's Leap with this balancing act.

Orzo Veggies

Wini says: Don't you just love the idea of such a stylish and colorful casserole making its way to the potluck table? For an equally hip wine, I'm inclined to open a bottle that's just plain groovy — or Gru-Vay, short for Grüner Veltliner, a bright-but-not-slight white from Austria that outpaces many other wines when it comes to vegetarian dishes.

Admittedly, I have not opened that many bottles of this in my neck of the woods; however, a good one I have discovered is Hugo Grüner Veltliner. Better news is that a reliable source tells me that most Gru-Vays that make their way to our shores are quality bottles. Have you found this to be the case?

Chuck says: Well, I think that's true, but maybe we ought to go try a bunch over in Austria, just to be sure we're getting the very best. Wouldn't that be fun?

Anyway, yes, I absolutely do love the idea of this recipe, and also the fact that it was sent in by a reader. Love your pick, too — you are certainly on your game!

I'm just going to offer an alternate here, and only if you simply can't get your hands on that Grüner, which is a lovely pick. So . . . in that case, you might look for something entirely different — the Robert Mondavi Fumé Blanc, again, a Napa wine. This, too, boasts some bright flavors, but is balanced by more body than you might expect from most Sauvignon Blancs (yes, Fumé Blanc is the same as Sauvignon Blanc — Mondavi coined the name years ago). An enjoyable, food-friendly wine to get to know.

Harvest Tagine

Wini says: You know, sometimes it is truly first-thought/best-thought when it comes to pairings. When I first looked at this recipe, my intuition said, "Grenache." Three days later, I can't think of a better pairing.

Maybe that's because I happen to be down here in the South of France, very close to Spain, where I have been drinking a lot of Grenache-based wines. They seem to go with everything, including some of the vaguely Spanish and Moroccan spiced food you can find around here.

I love the way casual French cafés here make it so easy to choose a wine. Basically, you can generally choose about three or four local appellations from a handful of producers. No Bordeaux, no Burgundy, no Merlot, Chard, or Cab. The way they figure it, the food from here goes with the wine from here. And I don't hear anyone saying things like "Hmmm, notice how the spice in the wine picks up the cumin in the sauce . . . " No one over-thinks it — and it all tastes great.

So, I am sticking with my original thought: Grenache or Garnacha (if from Spain). And you, Chas? Or are you going to flout a few centuries of wine and food wisdom?

Chuck says: Since you put it that way . . . how can I disagree? Now, I'm guessing some of those wicked Grenache-based wines you're tasting might be Côtes du Roussillon and Côtes du Roussillon Villages — maybe even some of the astonishingly good Vins de Pays from that area. A lot of these Roussillon wines seem to be really catching on here, lately. And since Grenache stars in almost all of them — including those that are required to be blends, such as the Côtes du Roussillons — they're just about all going to be great matches for our tagine.

As far as producers to look for in the U.S., two spring to mind right away: Domaine Lafage (which, with the American importer, Eric Solomon, also makes a juicy Spanish Garnacha called Las Rocas) and Calvet-Thunevin. What else to look for? If you're interested in trying a Vin de Pays from the region, look for the words, "Vin de Pays des Côtes Catalanes." While the moniker, Vin de Pays, or "country wine," used to mean simply quaffable, not terribly exciting wine, these days there are scads of outstanding Vins de Pays being produced in almost every corner of France. Don't let the name scare you off of these — many are even better than the fancy-sounding stuff.

Have a great time during the rest of your stay in France — à la prochaine, Wini!