I hope you've never heard it this way before: wine pairing is like a Liger. Take one majestic creature, the Lion (aka, "food", or perhaps the "mane" course... I immediately regret saying that). Put it together with a beautiful and cryptic beast, the Tiger (a metaphor for wine... misunderstood, powerful, and beautiful).

A perfect wine and food pairing becomes the Liger, a transcendental beast of the animal kingdom. Yeah, I agree it's perhaps the worst metaphor yet, but when's the next time I'm gonna get to talk about Ligers? You've gotta work with me here. And how could I not post that pic? Prize for the best caption...

Anyhow, I mentioned a couple pairing tips last week, and I wanted to continue with some more, but I'll do them one at a time (with total disregard to timeliness or continuity), because I really do talk too much:

Do you like red meat, and to hell with what your doctor says? Get on the good foot with tannins. I need to study more food science. I've heard it a million times. I've read it a million times. But I haven't seen a good explanation of the chemistry behind why red meat and tannic red wines go so well together. Either that, or I'm too lazy to really research it at the Charlie Sheen-ish hours when I write these posts.

All I know is that red meat is very high in protein. This is due to the fact that it (beef, lamb, duck, etc.) is comprised of slow-twitch muscle, which is used for long, extended periods of activity. For that reason, slow-twitch muscle must be high in myoglobin- a protein that stores plenty of oxygen to fuel these hard-working fibers. Myoglobin is reddish in color, so that's why red meat looks bloody (it isn't bloody bloody, by the way). But, clearly, this stuff is very high in protein, because of the myoglobin. So, there's part one.

Some red wines are high in tannin. Tannins are phenolic compounds from the skins, seeds, and stems of wine grapes. There are more tannins in red skins, so red wines tend to be more tannic. This is especially true for thick-skinned grapes, like Cabernet Sauvignon, Tannat, etc. When the juice is in contact with those big, fat casings during fermentation, the phenolic tannins are extracted into the wine. Winemakers can also add tannin to a wine by adding stems to the fermentation, or by aging in new oak barrels (as oak contains tannins). However, for the purposes of this stinkin' post, lets just say it the skin's the thing.

So, you've got a myoglobin-laden piece of meat and a heavily-extracted Cabernet Sauvignon. They're going to go great together because...uh, because the internet says so. Supposedly, tannins bind to the proteins in meat and make those proteins more flavorful. Likewise, the proteins supposedly soften the tannins, making them less astringent and more smooth. I don't know how this works, but I do know one thing: red meat and heavy red wine sure are tasty together. Next time you see your pimp and bring home beef steak or lamb, try a Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Nebbiolo-based wine, or Tannat (looks for producers from Uruguay or Madiran in France for these massive wines). Oh, and there's some Tannat grown in Georgia, too. Boomshakalaka.

As an added bonus, phenolic compounds contain lots of antioxidants, so tell your doc you'll only eat that terrible red meat with lots and lots of booze...

...you know, for your health.

Wine blogs address the concept of pairing wine with food as ESPN approaches Yankees vs. Red Sox, or as James Suckling discusses his home in Tuscany: on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on (for accuracy's sake, I need to type it some more) and on and on and on and on (okay, point made sophomorically).

-on and on and on-

The debate arguing wine and food goes back to Roman times, leading to the creation of the phrase, ad nauseam. But surely there's an explanation for all the tiresome discussion. Is it because drinking alcohol leads to diarrhea of the mouth (that is to say, lively discussion), and eventually to hunger, which leads to late-night junk food, that leads to... [awkward pause]?

In my opinion, which you're gonna get whether you like it or not, the reason for all the discussion is because it's a subject that's hotly debated, and that generates opinions, interest, and talk. Wine pairing is rooted in a practice that can either elevate both the food and the wine to new, ethereal heights, or it can decisively ruin both.

The balancing act is like concocting a hit early-80's sitcom. Combine the gruff, cantankerous comedic stylings of a Ted Knight with the lovable buffoonery of a hapless, effeminate Jim J. Bullock, and the pairing soars on the wings of Too Close for Comfort into the hallowed halls of television lore.

Conversely, if the pairing creates tension and disharmony, things go totally awry, and you end up with the doomed Homeboys in Outer Space (thanks TV Crunch for the inspirato on that one).

Here's the rub: everyone has different tastes. Just like what might resonate with television audiences, some pairings are going to work on paper (Homeboys in Outer Space is clearly a hilarious concept), but they just don't cut the mustard at the dinner table, or when the Nielson ratings are published. Ultimately, we're all individuals, and we all like what we like, so hitting a home run every time is like James Suckling not mentioning that he lives in Tuscany... probably ain't gonna happen.

I'm wrestling with this neurosis now, as I'll be hosting a wine pairing dinner for a large group on Saturday. I keep changing things up, overanalyzing, and researching the best matches. I know what I like, but will the crowd follow suit?

Fortunately, wine pairing doesn't have to be pure voodoo. There are some basic, food-science concepts that can be employed to hedge your pairings, increasing the odds of success. I'm gonna cover a couple here, then do a couple more in another post, because I both need more blog fodder, and this is a topic that causes bluster and filibustering (as I alluded to earlier):

1. Acid is good: wines with higher acidity stimulate one of the primary senses of the tongue, giving the sensation of the palate being cleansed. Furthermore, like squeezing lemon onto a bland piece of fish, some acidity can enhance the flavors of many foods. Acidic wines can usually stand up to tough-to-pair acidic foods (like a vinaigrette, for example), and they're great with fatty dishes, as fat can coat the palate, and the wine seems to clean things up for the next bite.

There are a few tricks to picking out a high acid wine. Knowing which grapes have naturally high acidity (Riesling, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Noir, Sangiovese, etc.) is one way. Understanding cooler climate growing regions can also help. Grapes don't ripen as much in these cooler climates, leaving more acidity in the fruit. Another good tip is to check the alcohol level on the bottle. Lower alcohol (roughly, below 13%) is a pretty good indicator that the wine still has some dialed-down pH. This has to do with the fact that- as grapes ripen- acids decrease and sugars increase in the fruit. Sugar is converted into alcohol during fermentation, ergo, more sugar, more alcohol, less acid (provided there's no manipulation, which is another post).

2. When things get spicy, sugar and fruit are good, but alcohol is not: a little sweetness can temper the heat of spicy foods, and even dry wines that are very fruit-forward can fight the good fight, as fruitiness can be perceived by the palate as sweetness. However, the latter can be tricky, as dry, fruity wines often are the product of very ripe grapes, which means there was a lot of sugar during fermentation, (generally) equating to higher alcohol. High alcohol turns spice into straight-up HOT, burning the throat and killing all flavors. If you need proof, make yourself a Prairie Fire shot and see what happens.

For all these reasons, most German Spätlese and Auslese Rieslings do wonders with buffalo wings and Popeye's chicken. They are usually around 8% alcohol, with some residual sugar in the final wine. Furthermore, Riesling is naturally very high in acidity, so that jives with the tasty fats in fried poultry bits (see reason #1).

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My best excuse is that cooking for a pregnant wife not only limits the food you can prepare, but severely cripples the efforts by the household to drink a bottle of wine, thus damaging the odds of opening a bottle in the first place, as said bottle is now more vulnerable to waste and spoilage. It's a terrible excuse, I know, but I've got to plead some sort of pathetic case here.

Now you- the attractive and astute readership- have no time for my alibis, and frankly, you're probably tired of me talking about babies. So, with that directive in mind, I concocted perhaps my favorite "classic" pairing on earth.

Oysters and bubbly (in this case, Champagne) might be the finest set of bedfellows since, well, since the last time someone used the word "bedfellows" in the modern written word. Granted, Champagne and much sparkling wine is notorious for being a fast-friend with food (due to high acid, freshness, and the palate-cleansing virtue of fizz). However, for some reason, I can't think about anything else to even compare with some oysters. Yeah, that includes beer. I don't believe I'm even saying this. But dammit, with all due respect to beer, IT'S THE TRUTH. I'd bet my crappy plating abilities on it.

In the case of this particular post, the oyster employed was Long Island's famed Blue Point. While much of my experience (being from Georgia) is with either Apalachicola Oysters or Gulf Oysters, I went with the Blue Points because, well, that's all that they had. And I suspect that I won't be getting any Gulf Oysters anytime soon. I bite my thumb at you, BP.

Anyway, I decided to toss these beauties on the grill for a few minutes, rather than eat them raw. The latter is usually the most common form of consumption (which I enjoy), but something about heating these up just until the briny juices within them bubble and the shells pop open, allowing some of the smoke from the fire to permeate the meat...[Homer drooling noises]. And yes, it is that simple. Put the oysters on the grill. When the shells open (after 4-8 minutes), dinner is served. If they don't open, don't eat 'em. They skip across ponds quite nicely in that case.

For the bubbles, I ended up with a half bottle (375 ml) of Laurent-Perrier NV Brut L-P Champagne. The "NV" stands for "non vintage", and what that means is that the final product in my bottle is a combination of wine from possibly several different years. This is done so that the producer can create a consistent flavor profile for the wine year-after-year (known in Champagne as the "house style"). Since the inconsistent weather patterns vary season-to-season, sometimes the blending needs to be tweaked to maintain the house style. Master blenders- aka "folks much more talented than me"- undertake the painstaking task of tasting samples from many different barrels of wine from the respective year, as well as previous years. Furthermore, they taste Pinot Noirs and Chardonnays and Pinot Meuniers (the three allowable grapes in the Champagne AOC). This process is known as assemblage, and I bet I would suck at it.

Laurent-Perrier's "house style" is lighter than many other Champagnes, much of that perhaps due to the fact that they use mostly Chardonnay. I chose the lighter-styled sparkler because I think it worked great with the delicate brininess of the oysters. And the blue-blooded blue point oysters seemed to be more delicate and briny than the blue-collared gulf oysters I usually find fried in my po boy. The mineral elements in the wine- likely attributed to the chalky soils of Champagne- offered a perfect complement to the salinity of the juice, the almost-metallic flavors within the oyster meat, and the likewise minerality lent to the oyster and the juice by the shell. Furthermore, the citrusy components and the acidity of this light-bodied blubbly worked like a spritz of lemon...never a bad move on an oyster, or any seafood for that matter.

So, the richness, the acid, the minerality, the brininess...the luxurious combination of delicate seafood and delicate mousse of fizzy Champagne (or California sparkling, or Spanish Cava); all these elements working in harmony confirm why this is such a classic pairing. If you haven't tried it before, I suggest you do so this weekend. Especially if you plan on eating outside in the sultry summer (well, almost summer) evening. There just isn't much better.

And if you're looking for another food-and-wine marriage, join me here next year when I discuss classic pairings 202!

"Bullshit, Cabernet Sauvignon. You can be mine."

While wine pairings are- to many consumers- a point of substantial anxiety, for others, they're a creative and engaging exercise. Pulling together the food and the drink that so perfectly complement each other is a rush, sparking a "eureka!" moment that begs to be repeated...

But does the challenge of the perfect pairing become addictive? Have folks gone too far? I've seen wines paired with everything, from breakfast to shoes. I used to think that pairing wines with the music you're listen to while imbibing was a cool idea, until I realized finding a wine/music pairing is about as rare as finding a Hall & Oates song on a random iPod. I think I heard a comedian once say that iPods probably come preloaded with at least one Hall & Oates hit. I'm starting to think this wasn't a joke. Anyway, this concept is allegedly so overblown that it's caught the ire of the magnificent Hosemaster, officially relegating it to "stay away" status, for fear of a lampooning.

However, pairing with a smattering of bad 80's movies is something I've yet to see, and something that I feel must be done. Not only because I think it's got entertainment value, but also because a participant on the Facebook opus solicited the challenge. The original plan was to pair one red and one white with each, but I feel there's a unique style that defines each of these films. So, donning my Hypercolor t-shirt and best pair of acid-washed, tight-rolled jeans, I attempt part 1 of 2 (because I got a list of too many movies):

Speaking of those, we paired the Pinot Grigio with Littleneck Clams steamed in said Pinot Grigio. Some butter, pureed shallots, smashed garlic, a crisp white wine, salt, a little pepper, and parsley combined with some well-scrubbed little gems is probably my death-row meal. Even better than the clams is the insane broth- now infused with the briny juices from within the previously-unopened little buggers- that is sopped up with crusty bread. As Mario Batali said (via Bill Buford in the foodie-must-read, Heat), "it's about the sauce, not the little snot of meat in the shell...no one is interested in the little snot of meat!"

Moving onto the dry Jacob's Creek Reserve Riesling- a variety notoriously high in acid- I wanted to turn the delightfully-fattening, traditional football fare of bratwurst on its head (with hopes that the acidity would counter-balance the tasty fats). We popped the sausage out of the casing (which is always a creepily erotic affair), formed it into patties, and griddled them until just cooked through. Topped with sauerkraut simmered in Samuel Smith's Lager and good hot mustard, these may have been the toast of the tailgate. As Riesling is one of Germany's two greatest exports- the other being sausage- this seemed like a perfect match. While I wasn't a huge fan of the wine by itself, it did "meat" expectations as part of the pairing.

For the Pinot Noir- a wine designed for food, something not-too-hefty-but-not-too-light seemed logical. And chicken wings always seem logical, under any circumstances. Football game? Chicken wings. Tornado warning? Chicken wings. Criminal court sentencing? Chicken wings, preferably before, as they don't serve them in jail. Anyway, the fruity Pinot worked with the slightly sweet, slightly spicy wings (some traditional, some Asian-spiced), and the ample acidity of this grape countered the fattiness of both wing and tasty dipping situation.

Alas, something was missing. Pull out your animal consumption checklist: Feathered friends? Check. Tasty sea creatures? Check. The pig, [according to Bourdain] a noble and magical animal? Check. Beef...

...check. Paired with the JC Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon (a grape which has been one of Australia's most notable exports), braised short rib tacos seemed to make sense. The day before, I did a quick-pickle of some old onions I had lying around, briefly simmering them in cider vinegar, sugar, salt, cloves, allspice, peppercorns, a dried chile, and a bay leaf. Jarred and left in the fridge overnight, they still had a crunch to them, but the sweet tang worked with the beef: boneless short rib, braised in a combination of pureed mire poix w/ garlic, water, tomato paste, Cabernet, and spices (cumin, black pepper, red pepper, coriander, Mexican oregano, thyme) until it shredded apart with a fork. Rich and tasty, and great with the wine.

All in all, a fine time, best summed up by a video featuring low-resolution photos, snippets of amateur video, and- of course- underwhelming didjeridoo manipulation. Aussie, Aussie, Aussie. Oy. Oy. Oy.

Kobe Beef Carpaccio with 2007 Artesa Pinot Noir Carneros and the 2007 Artesa Reserve Pinot Noir Carneros. While raw Kobe beef needs no accompaniment, these fruit-forward Pinots were not totally unwelcome. Both of these 100% Pinot Noirs had nice cherry and strawberry aromas and flavors, but the Reserve really stole the show here. I got some smells of root beer and fennel on the nose, and this beast was clearly more extracted. It had a pretty serious tannin structure, and- as brand manager Tim Shippey noted- it was not quite ready. However, snag this one if you see it. Set it down for a year or two, then get ready to turn on some Ronnie James Dio and rock out. Tasty wine, friends.

N.Y. Strip, Spinach, Whipped Potatoes with 2005 Artesa Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon and 2005 Ridgeline Alexander Valley Cabernet Sauvignon ("Ridgeline" being a sister property of Artesa). As usual, by this time, my notes become non-existent as I was fully absorbed in the experience. We all know steak and Cab go together swimmingly, and either of these would fit the bill. The Alexander was a bit softer than the Napa, but both expressed the prevailing fruit-forward style, but with enough balanced acidity and tannin to get busy with a dry-aged piece of cow. I recall leaning towards the Ridgeline Alexander, but I would kick neither of these off my table.

I'd say I was satisfied. Call it a night. You've done it, guys. You've wined and dined me enough.

"Hey, I've got some single-vineyard Cabs in my car," says an increasingly mirth-some Tim. "You guys wanna try them?"

And so we did (who turns down free wine, and single-vineyard at that?). While these wines are sure to be outside of the everyday price range of a lowly suburban wino (around $75, according to Elizabeth), they were a rare treat. The 2005 Lone Pine Vineyard (Alexander Valley) Cabernet Sauvignon and the 2005 Standing Bear Vineyard (also Alexander) Cab were damn good. The former, comprised of 81% Cab Sauvignon and 19% Cabernet Franc, was softer and more aromatic than the latter- a 100% Cabernet Sauvignon. If you're looking for a special-occasion wine that is- quite frankly- cheaper than many Napa/Sonoma single-vineyard Cabs, you could do a lot worse.

Fully; overly satiated, I boogied on out of there, dreaming of future dinners. I want to give a big thanks to Artesa; to Tim Shippey; to new winemaker Mark Beringer (formerly of Napa powerhouse Duckhorn)- from whom I anxiously await great things; and to you, the reader, for getting to this point in what has become an incredibly long-winded post. I love you guys. You interpret that how you want. Cheers!