Albariño is Spain's greatest white wine. Rias Baixas is the DO. Galicia in the Northwest of Spain is the region. Very unique wine. Medium to full bodied. Some of them are almost creamy in texture, with intense aromas of citrus, stone fruit, flowers and mouth-watering acidity that brings to mind wet Atlantic coastal rocks. These wines are both delicious and singular, mainly because Albariños manage to bring together many of the best things of various white-wine styles. It's one of those wines I can see Chardonnay drinkers enjoying as easily as Aromatic lovers. The result? Explosion in the culinary world. The question is how a rainy, green corner of Spain manages to produce a varietal able to harness all of these sensations in a single glass. The nose, so reminiscent of Viognier and Alsace riesling, has led more than a few to wonder if the grape was brought to Galicia from France.
Even the word Albariño has added fuel to this fire. 'Alba' is an ancient word for 'white' and 'Riño' could easily be read as the 'Rhine River' - all of which might lead pop-historian types to a dramatic decode moment a la Dan Brown: White from the Rhine. I can see the doves flying through the stained-glass light and some albino monk hauling ass with the 'secret origins of wine' scroll tucked deep inside his ripe underthings. I guess the coincidence of an Alsatian profile as well as a Catholic holy pilgrimage linking France to Galicia has fuelled speculation about Burgundian monks with grape vines concealed in their cassocks on the road to Santiago. Seems a little bit Hollywood. It could be true - Carthusian monks started the cultivation of vitis vinifera in Priorat - but there's no proven genetic link between Albariño and Riesling or any other Alsace varietal. A more realistic read might be that the presence of so many French monks in one isolated corner of Spain translated into a sharp spike in local wine demand and revolutionized wine-making in Galicia. I could get behind that theory. You know what else I could get behind? A tomato and goat cheese tart accompanied by a white wine with bracing acid and mysterious origins.
Tomato and Goat Cheese Tarts (adapted from Barefoot Contessa: Back to Basics)
Ingredients:
- 1 package of puff pastry (17 ounces, 2 sheets)
- 4 cups thinly sliced onions (2 large ones)
- 3 large garlic cloves, cut into thin slivers
- 3 tablespoons of dry white wine
- 2 teaspoons of minced thyme leaves
- 4 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan
- 4 ounces of garlic-and-herb goat cheese (Montrachet is what I used)
- 1 large tomato, cut into 4 1/4 inch slices
- 2 ounces of Parmesan, shaved with a vegetable peeler
- salt and pepper
1) Unfold sheet of puffed pastry on a lightly floured surface and role it lightly to an 11 x 11 inch square. Using a 6-inch wide saucer (I used the lid from a tupperware container - another ingenious solution for my memoirs) cut 2 circles from the sheet of puffed pastry. Repeat with the 2nd pastry sheet to make 4 circles total. Place the pastry circles on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper and refrigerate until ready to use.
2) Preheat oven to 425 degrees
3) Heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet over med-low heat and add the onions and garlic. Saute for 15 minutes, stirring frequently, until the onions are limp and there is almost no moisture remaining in the skillet. Add 1/2 teaspoon of salt and 1/4 teaspoon of pepper, the wine and the thyme and continue to cook for another 10 minutes, until the onions are lightly browned. Remove from heat.
4) Using a sharp knife, score a 1/4 inch wide border around each pastry. Prick the pastry inside the score lines with a fork and sprinkle a tablespoon of grated Parmesan on each, staying inside the border.
5) Spoon 1/4 of onion mixture on each circle, staying within that score edged line thing. Crumble one once of goat cheese on top of the onions. Place a slice of tomato in the centre of each tart. Brush the tomato lightly with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Finally, scatter 4 or 5 shards of Parmesan on each tart.
6) Bake for 20 minutes, until the pastry is golden brown.
Did the Leira Albariño manage to keep up with this luscious tart?
Absolutely. Food pairings aside, the Leira would (and will, who am I kidding. I bought a case) make a very solid summer aperitif. I could drink this every afternoon. We all need our life goals, right? On the nose I noted stone fruit, citrus, herbs, just a hint of the minerality that eventually muscled its way through on the palate. It was medium bodied but there wasn't much in the way of creaminess. This may have been the cutting effect of high acid. My main impression was one of (a) cleanliness and (b) vibrancy. It was almost bracing in its acidity - which is why I'd have probably felt shortchanged if I hadn't made the effort to prepare some food. I was salivating after a glass and looking for something to chew on. If you can't cash in on your own salivation then there are some glaring holes in your overall life philosophy. This is where the tart came in. The savouriness of the goat cheese and Parmesan and the sweetness of the caramelized onions played off the acid of the Albariño. This was a solid fit but there are countless food options for this varietal: garlic grilled shellfish, paella, soft cheeses. Richer preparations of pork or chicken.
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