TheChampagneSommelier reflects in a chronicle on the importance (or not) of matching food with your meal. [ read the full champagne story ]
Estimated reading time: 6 minutes
The Tyranny of the Grape, and Other Dinner Table Delusions
One imagines a rather stuffy room, smelling faintly of old leather and deferred dreams. On one side of the mahogany table sits a man who believes that the precise alignment of a Sancerre with a goat’s cheese is all that stands between civilization and chaos. On the other, a chap who thinks the whole business is a colossal waste of breath, and that the only thing a good wine needs pairing with is a glass.
This, apparently, is the great debate of our time. The head-to-head, the clash of titans, the great schism in the church of the grape: to pair, or not to pair? It’s a question that has launched a thousand tedious articles, each more self-important than the last. Let’s pull up a chair, shall we? And perhaps pour something that will make the whole affair more palatable. A Blanc de Noirs, I think. It pairs beautifully with sanctimony.
In This Corner: The High Priest of Harmony
First, let us entertain the pairing zealot. He is, in his own mind, a culinary artist, a maestro conducting a symphony of flavours. He doesn’t just drink; he “creates an experience.” He speaks in hushed tones of the “delicate interplay of acidity and fat,” the “ethereal dance of tannins and proteins.”
To him, serving the ‘wrong’ wine is not just a mistake; it’s a moral failing. It’s an act of profound disrespect to the chef, the winemaker, and indeed, the very soul of the ingredients. He will tell you, with the unblinking conviction of a street preacher, that a well-chosen wine can “elevate a dish,” transforming a humble piece of fish into a religious experience. He argues that his rules – his commandments, really – are not chains, but guide ropes, there to help the timid and uninitiated navigate the treacherous waters of the wine list.
What he won’t tell you is that this ‘harmony’ is often a joyless, sterile affair. It is a world where surprise is the enemy, where a happy accident is an unwelcome guest. It is the culinary equivalent of an arranged marriage, where compatibility is engineered, but passion is rarely present. It is safe, predictable, and, let’s be honest, crushingly dull.
And in the Other Corner: The Anarchist with a Corkscrew
Then we have the rebel. The iconoclast. The fellow who insists that the only rule is that there are no rules. He sees the pairing charts and the sommelier’s advice as a form of snobbery, a conspiracy to make the average person feel inadequate. “Just drink what you like!” he bellows, splashing a large measure of Cabernet into his glass before tucking into a plate of oysters.
He champions personal freedom, the sovereignty of the individual palate. He argues, not incorrectly, that taste is so wildly subjective that to prescribe a universal ‘perfect match’ is an act of spectacular arrogance. One man’s ambrosia is another man’s battery acid. Mood, company, even the lighting, can change the way a wine tastes. He believes that the pursuit of the ‘perfect‘ pairing creates anxiety, stifling the simple, unadulterated pleasure of a good meal.
But in his righteous crusade for liberty, does he not miss something? In tearing down the temple, does he not risk losing the faith entirely? To suggest that there is no difference, that a delicate vintage Champagne and a fiery vindaloo are equally valid partners, is to descend into a kind of nihilism. It’s the palate of a teenager who puts ketchup on everything. It’s not freedom; it’s a form of blindness, a refusal to see the beautiful, intricate patterns that can be woven when thought and care are applied.
The Verdict from the Only Judge That Matters
So, who is right? The tyrant or the anarchist? The answer, of course, is that they are both insufferable bores. They are both missing the point.
The secret to all of this isn’t about rules or the absence of rules. It is about intelligence. It is about paying attention. It is about understanding the why behind a suggestion, not just blindly following it. And more than anything, it is about understanding the glorious, get-out-of-jail-free card that is Champagne.
Champagne doesn’t play by these dreary rules. It floats above them. Its acidity is a master key that unlocks flavour. Its bubbles are a constant refreshment. Its spectrum of styles, from the lean and chalky to the rich and toasty, means it can stand up to almost anything you throw at it. It can be the perfect, crisp beginning, or it can be the steadfast companion throughout an entire, multi-course feast. It doesn’t need to be ‘paired’; it simply co-exists in a state of magnificent, sparkling grace.
So, let the zealots and the anarchists have their war. We will be over here, armed with the only principles that matter. Not rules, you understand. More like whispered suggestions from a hedonistic friend.
- Match Weight with Weight. This is just common sense. A delicate dish will be bullied by a bombastic wine. A powerhouse dish will laugh at a flimsy one. It’s like a boxing match; pick contestants in the same weight class.
- Acidity is Your Friend. A wine with good acidity is the ultimate dinner guest. It cuts through fat, balances salt, and keeps the whole affair feeling lively. This, naturally, is why Champagne is the ultimate answer.
- Drink What You Like. The most important principle. Your palate is your own. The point of all this is joy, not the smug satisfaction of being ‘correct’.
Ultimately, this is a game, not a test. The aim is to create a moment where one plus one equals three. Where the food makes the wine sing, and the wine makes the food soar. The joy is in the trying, the experimenting, the delicious and defiant pursuit of pure pleasure.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a bottle of Salon and a bag of salt and vinegar crisps with my name on it. A perfect pairing.
So let them have their tedious debate. Let them argue over their charts and their philosophies. We will be over here, committing the most delicious, most liberating sin of all: ignoring them entirely and ordering another bottle of Champagne. It is, after all, the perfect pairing for life itself.
