This weekend I made a favorite, foolproof recipe; baked blue fish smothered in Indian spiced yogurt sauce. Any trusty sommelier would steer me to an Austrian riesling or a sec tendre (a little sweet) vouvray as a wine pairing. Being stubborn, I want to drink what I want to drink no matter what. Even if its an oily fish that is supposed to kill every red wine it meets.
The 2002 Domaine Rossignol-Trapet bourgogne rouge was brilliant.
A flavorful fish with a spicy preparation paired with a medium weight, low level bourgogne of no real pedigree was the vehicle for all sorts of revelations, about food and love.
Now look, for two years I battled with that wine. I had several bottles, and it refused to open up. I lost faith. The wine wasn’t just being shy, it was as uncommunicative as a boyfriend who’s never had good therapy. But that first sip on Friday night, the wine turned brilliant; slightly rosy, slightly smoky, slightly cinnamony. Tasted with the fish, it proved to be terrific. The wine held it’s own, the fish held its own. Each supported the other, neither party was overwhelmed, neither transformed. The two carried on famously, as if in a very happy, healthy passionate relationship, until the last sip and bite.
We should all be so lucky.