Questions on holiday wines? Never fear
What is it about Thanksgiving that strikes fear into the heart? Otherwise rational people, wine lovers all year, are paralyzed when it comes to picking the wine.
Is it the magnitude of the meal? The fear of humiliation?
In recent years, I’ve pleaded for everyone to just take a breath and relax (to that point: sfg.ly/Ttynsd), yet here we are again, 51 weeks later, neckdeep in wine neurosis.
This year I figured some straight answers might help to undo some of the many wrongs wrought by Thanksgiving wine columns.
The season seems to bring upon wine writers what Lisa on “The Simpsons” might have called the great dumbening. Drink Zinfandel! Buy Pinot Noir! These inane declarations do more harm than good, by pretending like there’s one concrete answer — one wine to rule them all. They’re a subtle form of fearmongering.
Isn’t Thanksgiving an American holiday? Should I be serving American wine?
Serve whatever you like. Since the days I stopped buying cheap Shiraz (my cousins loved it), I’ve thought Thanksgiving was a perfect time to buy American.
But often that’s just an excuse to buy the same old wines. The Pilgrims celebrated the bounty of the new, so my twist is: Buy something new to you.
Perhaps that’s a variety you haven’t tried before — California is awash in them nowadays, from Picpoul to Valdiguié (though an earlier generation will recall that as Napa Gamay) — or perhaps a wine from a heretofore untried spot.
El Dorado Roussanne? Arizona Tempranillo? Georgia Sauvignon Gris? Anything goes.
What about Zinfandel?
Among the hoary wine-column themes that won’t die, this is the worst, a cheap out on Drink American.
Zinfandel can be a fine choice, but far fewer than you’d expect are Thanksgiving-happy. Many are high in alcohol, which weighs down an already heavy meal. Worse, too many are unjustifiably sweet, with little acidity for balance. (White Zinfandel, by contrast, has that acidity.) Sugar isn’t necessarily bad, but these will out-sugar all the sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce you can heap on.
If you’re keen on Zinfandel, remember that everything old is new again, wine advice included.
Look for Zins that pay tribute to the 1970s, the last time Zin-for-Thanksgiving columns were in fashion. Perhaps a classic like the 2010 Ridge Geyserville — its high acidity will be great for the richness of the table — but also newer efforts with similarly sleek flavors, like Neyers’ Vista Luna or Broc’s Vine Starr.
How about Pinot Noir? And Beaujolais? I keep hearing about those.
The meal’s centerpiece is usually a big bird, for which those wines are a great choice. Their sometimes foresty, earthy aspects echo mushrooms and all the spices of fall.
But the real issue is that you want a red wine with relatively modest weight — a status that, sadly, much Pinot Noir no longer includes. That’s why Cabernet and some Syrah can be difficult, although there are always exceptions. Brighter, more aromatic Syrah can work quite well; so can Grenache-based wines so long as they’re not too high in alcohol.
Alternately, you could dabble in lesser-known reds with a slight earthy touch, from Blaufrankisch (Wind Gap has an excellent, if rare, one from Napa) to Dolcetto, Mencia or Xinomavro. In all cases, you want a wine that brings freshness and not too much weight or tannin. We’re not eating beef.
As for Beaujolais, that’s in part about timing. The Nouveau from the current vintage was often ready by November. In the 1970s, when Americans were more starry-eyed about French wine, importers leveraged that coincidence. But good Beaujolais functions like Pinot Noir. Ditto for any version of the Gamay grape, which I’ll discuss in next week’s column.
But my sister doesn’t like red wine.
Thanksgiving is more about family politics than food, so here’s my annual strategy: Choose at least three wines, a red, a white and something sparkling. If you prefer, sub one with a rosé — a great holiday choice. Deploy as you like. Everyone has options. You’ve done your job as host.
So what about whites?
Turkey is, mercifully, as good with white wine as with red — as are most trimmings. I usually suggest richer white wines given the food, although the Chablis I opened last year (to go with oysters in the stuffing) was an unexpected hit.
As for rich whites, Chardonnay with some weight and even a bit of oak can be just the thing for chestnuts, butter and so on. But my preference usually lies with the roster of Rhone-inspired white wines — Roussanne, Marsanne, Grenache Blanc. They combine rich flavors and essential freshness.
Riesling, with its intense acidity, is another of those hoary winecolumn choices. It can work just fine, especially if it’s a touch sweet and your guests like that. Much as I love it, though, this isn’t its shining time, especially dry versions.
As for Gewurztraminer, another perennial suggestion, dry ones can have weight to match the meal — the 2011 Navarro is particularly good — although its pumpkinpie scents aren’t the most versatile option. Ditto Sauvignon Blanc and its fresh-grass tones.
But keep in mind the Thanksgiving prime wine directive: Matching up the flavors is far less important than serving wines that make people happy, especially if you have a story to tell about them.
So how much do I need?
Who’s coming to dinner? There’s no perfect rule, but assume each bottle will yield five glasses, and two to three glasses per guest for the meal. Do the math.
It also depends how many different wines you want to serve; the more you choose, the more everyone will want a taste (but might take a smaller pour). With that in mind, calculate that a table of eight might drink 20 glasses, or four bottles’ worth.
And what else are you pouring? Are you starting the day with bubbles, or brown liquor? (The latter always a fine idea, ever since colonial times.) Do you have beer drinkers? Adjust accordingly.
But some of my guests don’t drink.
All the more reason to think about what other beverages you can serve. Warm cider. Fresh pomegranate juice. Mix a zero-proof cocktail in batches.
How much should I spend?
Take the taxable income from line 43 of your 1040, divide by 4,000 and subtract 1.
Seriously, it’s between you and your wallet. As much as Thanksgiving is a special time, it’s not necessarily a special time for wine — too many guests, too many flavors. Buy some interesting, delicious wines; save the fancy stuff for another time.
Recommendations?
Always. Go to sfgate.com/thanksgiving/ for a recap of recent ideas, or revisit my most recent 20 wines for $20 or less (go to: bitly.com/ TuC9S4).
Better yet, go to a good local wine shop. The Bay Area is blessed with them. Tell them what you like; they know this is the time of year when they can play hero. There are many ways to stress out for Thanksgiving. Make the wine shop your little ocean of calm.
Fine, so what are you serving?
I’m traveling this year, so I’ll pack some good Champagne and probably a Rhone-style white from the Sierra foothills. And then either some of the Zinfandel I mentioned above, or else my perennial choice: a magnum of good cru Beaujolais, usually the Cote de Brouilly from Nicole Chanrion. (Although I might switch the domestic-import order and bring California sparkling and a magnum of Zinfandel.)
Magnums are my other big win. They immediately signal the bounty that Thanksgiving exudes, they ensure everyone can have a second glass, and they’re never as expensive as anyone expects.
You can find magnums of good Prosecco, Rioja, Rhone blends and even some real Pinot Noir for under $50. The instantparty factor is worth the slight extra cost.