Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Domaine Zumbaum Tomasi, Clos Maginiai, 2007, Couteaux du Languedoc
The wine I've pulled from the closet tonight is from Languedoc. If you haven't tried anything from this part of France, I suggest you do. I get a little excited when I hear the word couteaux. Midi is an outstanding region. It's located in the southwest of France on the Mediterranean coast pressed up into the Catalan border and includes tremendous value appellations like Costieres de Nimes, Minervois, Cotes de Roussillon, Corbieres and finally Couteaux du Languedoc, where Domaine Zumbaum Tomasi is located.[...]
I tend to hang around under the Midi sign in the LCBO, complaining about the limited selection. When I saw this one surface I had to buy it. [If you're not from Ontario, the LCBO is the place we are forced to buy our wine. I'm not kidding.] Anyhow, I like Midi for a few reasons.
First, the wines of the region are great value [Clos Maginiai, for instance, retails at $18.95 Canadian]. The wines are soft and spicy, characteristics which make sense given that Rhone-style grapes [Syrah, Grenache, Carignan, Mourvedre, Cinsault] are blended by regional wine-makers. They will either be syrah or grenache dominant depending on the appellation [Languedoc tends to be 80 percent syrah while Roussillon is 80 percent grenache]. This Rhone-heavy influence is probably why I like the region so much. My first religious wine experience came while drinking a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape. But I will say that, in my experience, the wines of Midi are much softer and with less concentrated gaminess than what you'll find in the Rhone Valley or in the Catalan region of Priorat [another of my big recommendations]. But top Southern Rhone or Priorat wines are three to six times the price of a very decent Roussillion-Languedoc bottle. So to sum up, choosing Midi is cost-friendly way to enter the world of Mediterranean wine.
Which brings me to point number two in favour of Midi. It's a great bridge between new world and old world. If, for example, you always find yourself drinking Australian Shiraz or California Cabernet and fear the austerity of old world wine, you can ease yourself into the wines of France through Midi. Similarly, if you like the dryness and earthy-mineral elements of old world wine but feel like something with a more obvious fruit component, more sunshine in the bottle, try Midi. I see similarities between Midi and South African wines, a hybrid of old technique and new world growing conditions.
Obviously, I have tasted wines from the region and have some firsthand experience, so I knew what to expect from a syrah-dominant Couteaux du Languedoc: medium to full bodied (strange to talk of syrah as medium bodied, but it is much softer in Midi), pepper and chocolate from the syrah and nice strands of herb and earth woven through the wine from the 20 percent grenache element. With this in mind, I decided to try a spin on a classic southern French recipe with a little bit of spice.
Chicken Bouillabaisse with Saffron Rouille
The word Bouillabaisse usually triggers images of old ladies on Marseilles docks pounding bread and garlic in mortars, waiting for good prices on fish. Not this time. The recipe is adapted from "Barefoot Contessa: Back to Basics" by Ina Garten.
What you'll Need for the chicken component:
- between 1.5 and 2 pounds of chicken thighs, bone in.
- 1 tablespoon of minced fresh rosemary leaves
- 6 cloves of peeled garlic
- 1/2 teaspoon of saffron threads (I used American saffron)
- 1/2 teaspoon of whole fennel seeds
- 1 cup of tomato puree
- 1 cup of chicken stock
- 1 cup of dry white wine
- 1 pound of baby Yukon Gold potatoes, halved.
- Rouille (recipe follows below)
1. Pat the chicken dry with paper towel and season it with salt, pepper and rosemary. Be generous. Heat two tablespoons of olive oil in a pot.
[Concerning braising pots, acquire a good one with oven proof handles and cover. They can be expensive, but mine is the most important piece of equipment I have. Dutch-ovens are good. Enamel-coated cast-iron or stainless steel are also recommended. Whatever you chose, make sure that the base is thick and heavy. Important for even searing].
Sear the chicken in batches until nicely browned. Don't touch the chicken for 5 minutes. Let it sear. You want a crispy golden skin with caramelized chunks left on the base. That burnt crust on the bottom is good, good, good. Once seared, transfer the browned chicken to a plate and set aside.
2. Lower the heat to medium-low and add garlic, saffron, fennel seeds, tomato puree, chicken stock, white wine, 1 teaspoon of salt and 1/2 teaspoon of pepper to the pot. Scrape any browned strips of chicken from the pot. Pure flavour. Simmer for 30 to 40 minutes until the garlic is tender.
3. Heat oven to 300 degrees. Take 1 egg out of the fridge and let it climb to room temperature [needed for the rouille)
4. After 30 to 40 minutes of simmering, puree the sauce. The Barefoot Contessa lady called for a food processor. I used a hand-held blender in the pot. No problem.
Return the sauce to the pot if using food processor, add the potatoes and browned chicken pieces with their juices. Stir carefully. [At this point I found the pot a little shy on liquid so I added about a quarter cup each of chicken stock, white wine and tomato puree, so that the potatoes were submerged].
5. Cover the pot and bake for 45-55 minutes, until the potatoes are tender and the chicken is done. [This proved to be a bit of an issue. About twenty minutes into the baking time I took a look and saw that the liquid wasn't simmering. I inched the heat up at bit. After 55 minutes the potatoes were still hard in the centre. I removed the pot, set the chicken thighs aside and simmered on the stovetop for another ten minutes until the potatoes were done. This also thickened the sauce, which was good. I returned the chicken to the pot and stirred carefully. Problem solved].
6. Serve in shallow bowls with saffron rouille. This will serve three people. Maybe four with some hearty bread.
Saffron Rouille
'Rouille' means rust in French. It's a rustic garlic, saffron and bread paste used to thicken sauces, specifically bouillabaisse. There's no bread in this version so it seems more fitting to call it a mayonnaise or aioli. You won't need a huge amount, given the strength of flavour. This recipe makes approximately a cup. Half a cup would probably do.
You'll need:
- 4 cloves of peeled garlic
- 1 teaspoon of salt
- 1 large egg yolk (room temperature)
- the juice of half a lemon
- 1/2 teaspoon of saffron
- 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes or smoked paprika.
- half cup of good olive oil.
1. put garlic and salt on a cutting board and mince together.
2. Transfer mixture to a food processor [I used a hand-held blender and a high-sided container) and add egg yolk, lemon juice, saffron, and spices. Process until smooth.
3. With the machine or hand-blender running, pour a thin steady stream of olive oil to make a thick mayonnaise. Spoon onto your chicken bouillabaisse.
How Did the Wine Match Up?
I liked the 2007 Clos Maginiai quite a bit. On the nose there was nice fruit, kind of like dusty ripe cherry. And on the palate I got the pepper and herb I was expecting with a hint of vanilla and anise. But what really struck me about the wine was the texture. It was smooth and elegant. Its weight was right. Solid but without any unnecessary noise. Very balanced. The tannins had just enough edge to hold their own against the spice of the food. It made me want to drink more and more.
While chicken might not be the most natural complement to the Clos Maginiai on its own, in this bouillabaisse - heavy in garlic, saffron, fennel seed and tomato - it worked well for me. The flavours were robust and the wine had to stand up, which it did. The entire meal was a very Catalan experience. I lived outside Barcelona for three years. This tastes like Barcelona, even if all the components are French. I shared this meal with a Catalana. When I asked her what she thought, she poured another glass and said, "Tastes like wine," which really means that it tastes like Catalan wine. There's something to that. Midi was once part of Catalonia, traded away in some agreement between kings. Enough political hyperbole. Try Midi.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment