Showing posts with label white zinfandel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label white zinfandel. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Pink is Pimp
In the aftermath of an incendiary tirade berating the awful deficit of wine color-blindness in our culture, I received the following comment from the fine blokes over at Sediment Blog (which you should check out):
Almost hate to ask, but... where do you stand on rosé?
I can understand their meekness. I was on fire. "A madman drunk on adrenaline," my old friend from Arkansas might say. But such a relevant question warranted no apprehension, as the post ignored pink wine: the proverbial pink elephant-in-the-room. And when one is seeing pink elephants, an explanation is often required. "Drunk on adrenaline" is rarely a satisfactory answer.
Pink wine- referred to as "blush" in the 80's and on Franzia boxes, and now going by the more sophisticated name of rosé (accents and italics make anything more cosmopolitan)- gets a real bad rap among folks getting into the fermented grape...
Blame it on a guy named Bob Trinchero. One of the owners of Sutter Home winery in Napa, Trinchero would start making a dry, red Zinfandel wine in 1972. In order to concentrate the must (crushed, fermenting grapes), he would "bleed off" some of the juice (a process known as saignée) , ferment it to dryness, and bottle the pink juice for sale. However, in 1975, Trichero ran into a stuck fermentation with his byproduct, and the sugar just wouldn't ferment out. The brass at Sutter Home decided that they preferred the sweet style, and the infamous "White Zinfandel", as we know it, was born.
Perhaps you're like me. When I was cutting my teeth as a "serious" wine drinker (that moniker has since derailed), I dismissed all pink wine as crap. I decried "sweet" wine as an elixir of the hillbilly. I dismissed anything not red or white as the garbage found in gas stations next to the St. Ides double-deuces.
Maybe you cursed Bob Trinchero for his scourge upon the civilized wine world. And though Trinchero was too busy banging a giant pile of money to hear your lamentations, his Frankenstein-wine set the tone for a rampage against everything that shared it's horrid hue.
All rosé was not only unpalatable, but also the color of a cocktail befitting a bachelorette party, never to be confidently quaffed with the boys. Drinking wine among the beer crowd draws ridicule enough; knocking back something presumably sweet and the color of a Hello Kitty baby backpack... well, there just wasn't swagger to it, right?
Wrong. Hey, I was wrong too. I been there, man (clearly, my new catch-phrase).
We'd gone through life thinking "pink is wimp", not realizing that pink is pimp. Much of it is NOTHING like White Zinfandel (which has its place, too). There are examples that are fresh, vibrant, and acidic. They can be incredible with food. And, when you spill these wines on your 3-piece cotton-candy suit with flamingo derby hat, they don't stain.
I live in the South. And people from the south eat a lot of pork. We especially like to smoke the tasty critters in the summer. So, let's say I'm sitting out on my back porch on a July afternoon, sweating like a hoarder at a garage sale. As good as Pinot Noir is with pulled pork, I'm not reaching for a perspiration-inducing red. I'd like a rosé wine with a slight chill on it. It's got just enough red fruit to sing with that pork, but retains a lightness that gives a good yard beer a run for its money.
Some of the best examples of pink wine come from the Southeastern corner of France. Seek out the wines of Provence, especially the Mourvédre-based wines of Bandol, and- my personal favorite- Grenache-based Tavel from the southern Rhône. These wines tend to be dry, and they promise an unexpected and mighty enjoyable experience, offering aromas that often bely the dryness within the glass. Still not convinced? You can look on the labels and view the alcohol content. If it's hovering around 12% or higher, there's a good chance you're not dealing with anything sweet...
Not that there's anything wrong with that. But- alas- that is another rant, and I don't want to get off-point, as is my M.O. Rather, the time has come to embrace your inner-Huggy Bear and give rosé- the pinkest, pimpest wine of all time- a shot. Sip it from a wine glass if you're really cool. The rest of you insecure jive turkeys can ease into your pink drinkin' with a transitional vessel if necessary:
Or, if you're really slick:
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
English Roots Reggae and Pimento, please.
This post is a verbose explanation of this video I posted Sunday night.On the eve of Lent, I (not so) fondly reminisce back to last year's challenge: giving up all meat and animal product for 40-47 days. Eventually, I failed, but I set myself up for failure. Meat is good, and so omnipresent in our culture (especially Southern culture). I'm not sure if I gained respect or concern for vegans during that odyssey. Let's just say I'm glad it's long-since over.
This year, I will sacrifice no such thing. Rather, with March's thaw in full swing below the Mason-Dixon, my primal instinct to place hunks of beast over crackling open flame has stirred. And, as one is drawn outside by coming Spring's pleasant and sunny disposition, I desire festive sounds pumping from the porch speakers: Steel Pulse, Jimmy Cliff, Bob Marley...
...if by cosmic serendipity, this season's first masterpiece needed to be Jerk Pork Shoulder. Now, to the uninitiated (technically, myself included, as I've never been to Jamaica), "jerk" refers to a spice rub or marinade based primarily on two elements: the allspice berry (called "pimento" in Jamaica) and the tongue-scorching Scotch bonnet pepper. The term "jerk" has debatable origins: some say it comes from the Spanish term "charqui" (used to describe dried meat). Other sources claim a term derived from "jerking" the meat around on the grill. Frankly, with all due respect to historical accuracy, I really don't give one tenth of a damn about it. What's important is that jerk is totally delicious. The combination of aromatic allspice (along with tons of other spices and flavors; not to uncommon for foods originating on the trade routes of the Caribbean), hellacious and heavenly burn from the Scotch bonnets, and salty, succulent smoked meat is something that speaks to me. Seductively. And feeds me smoked meats. And gets me a beer.
Indeed, jerk pork is like the wife I never had. And when my current wife reads this, it will not help my case with her.
For my inspiration, I turned to the consummate Jamaican- Steven Raichlen...
...okay, well at least the guy sure does know his way around a grill.
Jamaican Jerk Pork Shoulder
recipe adapted from Steven Raichlen's Barbecue Bible: Sauces, Rubs, and Marinades
1 Pork Shoulder, about 8 lbs. (either boneless or bone removed, cap fat trimmed)
8 Scotch Bonnet Peppers (seeded if you like mild, wimpy stuff)
1 Medium Onion, chopped
2 Bunches Scallions, chopped, including white part
1/2 cup Flat Leaf Parsley, chopped
1/2 cup Cilantro, chopped
2 tbsp Fresh Ginger, chopped
1/4 cup Kosher or Sea Salt
1 tbsp Fresh Thyme Leaves
1 tbsp Dried Allspice Berries, toasted and ground
1 tsp Fresh Ground Black Pepper
1 tsp Grated Nutmeg
1/2 tsp Ground Cinnamon
1/4 tsp Ground Cloves
1/4 cup Fresh Lime Juice
1/4 cup Packed Dark Brown Sugar
2 tbsp Soy Sauce
1/4 cup Water (if needed)
Pretty simple: combine everything but the pork shoulder in a blender (I had to do two batches), and blend until it's an unappealing-looking liquidy goop. Reserve.
If your pork shoulder has been boned [Beavis & Butt-head laughter], it should fold open and be almost a large, flat rectangle. Start cutting slices- not all the way through the meat- on one side, then flip and make similar cuts where you did not on the other side. The idea is two-fold: flattening out the meat (like an accordion) will not only help decrease the cooking time, but it will also increase the surface area in contact with the jerky marinade goodness. Don't worry about the intramuscular fat... if you smoke it right, that stuff will rend away. This is something I've done before, and I felt affirmed when Raichlen mentioned it in another one of his books, Planet Barbecue.
Put the meat and marinade in a huge zip bag or non-reactive tray. Make sure all the meat is in contact with marinade, and let all that mess get busy in the fridge overnight.
The next day, start soaking a couple handfuls of any hardwood chips (I like oak, hickory, or apple) with a handful of allspice berries in water for 1 hour before smoking begins. Set up your grill or smoker. I use a 22" Weber kettle with a drip pan in the middle (filled with some water) and two piles of about 20-25 coals to each side. The meat will sit over the pan, not directly over any coals.
Once the coals are glowing and no longer have leaping flames that burn your tender knuckles, drop a handful of chips n' berries on each mound. You should have a good bit of smoke, and the internal temp of the grill should be around 250-300˚ (a little high by traditional barbecue standards, but we're after a nice crusty exterior here).
Have a knife handy. STAB ANYONE IN THE THIGH WHO TRIES TO OPEN THE LID OF THE GRILL TO "PEEK"*. After about 2 hours, you may need to add a couple coals and some smoke if the temp starts to drop. This is the only acceptable time to open the lid. After about 3, maybe 4 hours, you should have meat with an internal temp of 190˚, and it should pull apart with a fork. You, my friend, are now in flavor country.
If you MUST have wine with this dish, I can't think of anything better than rosé. The wines of Tavel are particularly delicious. And quite frankly, if you made yours pretty spicy, a little sweetness from a White Zinfandel will work pretty well. I like red Zin with pork BBQ, but this is a different animal. Sweetness tempers spicy. Got a problem with a self-admitted wine snob recommending white Zin? As my mom always said: tough toenails.
Honestly, though, this is a meat meant for cold beer. I suppose Red Stripe would be the easiest Jamaican beer to find. However, if you want to seek out the slightly-more obscure, see if you can find Dragon Stout (same producer as Red Stripe, though).
*meant in jest only. This blog and it's authors are not responsible for any subsequent stabbed legs. But seriously, opening that lid really messes with the barbecue, man.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
