Last weekend, Stephen came home from the grocery store with a six-pack (yes, quite literally six bottles in a little cardboard holder) of wines of such questionable provenance and low cost as to elicit shame in even the most value-conscious drinker. It contained two bottles each merlot, cabernet sauvignon, and sauvignon blanc labeled with no region more specific than "California" and with no date whatsoever, all for the price of $10.00.
I must admit, for wine that cost around $1.67 a bottle, it wasn't bad. For a rainy weekend spent primarily curled up under the duvet, watching endless DVDs of Inspector Lynley and Midsomer Murders, it was a perfect match. Honesty, I'd say the reds were not as tannic as I'd feared and the white not as sour; they were worth $3.00 a bottle, easy.
However, some wines deserve an accompaniment more refined that delivery pizza, good company, and BBC mysteries.
As I may have mentioned before, we're members of the Chateau St. Jean wine club, and we enjoy it very much. In addition to the great discounts, special treatment, and the utter joy of wine delivered directly to our home four times a year, it gives us an opportunity to drink better wines. They always put one special bottle in a shipment and we typically buy one every time we visit the winery, so we're developing quite a respectable horde in our cellar (Please note: by "cellar," I mean "wine box in the bottom of our linen closet."). Last fall, they sent us the 2002 Sonoma County Reserve Chardonnay.
At first, we were a little skeptical, not usually being crazy over classic California chard. While there are some we really enjoy, notably one by Toasted Head, we often find that instead of ripe fruit and buttery oak, all we can taste is apple juice and margarine. Luckily, during a trip to St. Jean in December, we had an opportunity to taste the wine. Yes, it had the heavy mouthfeel and what they describe as "classic creme brulee taste," but it was sparked with nice acidity and bright pineapple and papaya. Of course, I thought of roast chicken.
Now, I don't need a special bottle of wine to roast a chicken. For such a simple preparation, they bring me great joy, and there is something about the ceremony of pulling the whole, golden bird from the oven that seems special all by itself. I roast them for Sunday supper and for dinner on a Wednesday night. I welcomed Tejal home from Italy with a chicken and my family to San Francisco on Christmas Eve with one as well, but I also make them any time I feel like relaxing and eating with my fingers.
I served this particular chicken with roasted butternut squash puree with thyme and ancho chili powder and leeks braised in cream. I deglazed the roasting pan with a splash of chardonnay and stock, and poured the resulting sauce over the carved bird, and poured glasses of the wine alongside. It was a fine marriage of flavors, maybe not duvet and cuddling fine, but very pleasurable nonetheless.
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