How to choose a wine for Thanksgiving

By Eric Asimov

International Herald Tribune

NEW YORK: Suppose I told you that with your Thanksgiving turkey, your
stuffing, your cranberry sauce, and all the delicious side dishes that
will grace your holiday table, one wine and one wine only would match
up. Unless you pick that one wine you face the specter of horrible
embarrassment.

Sound ridiculous? Well, of course it is. Yet more people than I care to
think about feel exactly this way when selecting Thanksgiving wines.

Choosing the wine for any occasion is well known as an exercise in
agony. Thanksgiving, for some reason, fills people with an extra
dimension of dread. Perhaps it's the idea of performing for one's loving
family, always so ready to heap scorn for your benefit. Or maybe there's
secret pleasure in being squashed in the paralyzing spotlight, dancing,
as Tom Lehrer once put it, to "The Masochism Tango."

If the prospect of shame and disgrace is a welcome part of your holiday
ritual, by all means enjoy the feeling. But I would be remiss not to
point out that it's all so unnecessary!

Picking a wine should never be an occasion for self-flagellation, and at
Thanksgiving least of all. The meal itself is typically a riot of
contrasts - the savory stuffing, the sweetness of yams, the blank slate
of the turkey - and wide open to individual eccentricities like
marshmallows, almond slivers and the like. The wine selection task
couldn't be simpler: versatility and plenitude.

In an effort to demonstrate that this can be done without the suffering,
the wine panel's home team - Julia Moskin, Florence Fabricant, Frank
Bruni and I - gathered to celebrate Thanksgiving early, with a complete
holiday meal, as we have annually for the last five years. The four of
us, along with our tasting coordinator, Bernard Kirsch, each brought two
wines to the meal, one red and one white, costing no more than $25 each.

If experience has taught us anything, it's that the soporific effects of
a long day of cooking, eating and socializing, whether sincere or
forced, must be countered with wines that are light-bodied, limber and
above all refreshing. Now, times are tough, but we found some pretty
good values, like a $9 wonder Florence brought in. It was a 2007
sauvignon blanc from BV Coastal Estates, Beaulieu's line of inexpensive
mass-market wines. Ordinarily, I wouldn't expect much from it. But in
our blind tasting we were all charmed. All except Frank, that is, who
announced that he does not appreciate the sauvignon blanc grape.
Actually, on tasting the wine, he offered a grimace and a cry of
anguish.

Now, pay attention, for here is a case study. Your guest, for whom you
have the deepest affection, detests your wine. Did Florence wring her
hands or blush with shame? She did not. She joined us in laughing at
Frank. Well, why not? It was a light, restrained wine with just enough
sass to be refreshing as well as some mineral notes.

Dismissive action is required if someone objects to wines as good as
Frank's choice, a not-quite-dry 2006 Savennières from Domaine du Closel,
or my own, a 2007 Muscadet Clos des Briords from Domaine de la Pépière.
Good feelings abounded as Frank professed his love of the chenin blanc
grape. "It's like drinking sunshine," he gushed as a fillip of gratitude
at sharing the holiday table passed through us all.

I was not so lucky. Though my wine had all the lively tang and yeasty
goodness that I look for in a good young muscadet, Florence objected,
calling it sour. It was her turn to be ignored.

Julia and Bernie had more to endure. Julia's selection, a 2006 sylvaner
from Domaine Ostertag in Alsace, was a risk. The sylvaner grape doesn't
often show much of a personality, although Florence did detect an "oily
volatility." I sensed a kind of tropical, bananalike aroma, though it
went down easily enough.

Bernie, too, chose an Alsatian wine, a 2007 pinot gris from Paul Blanck
that was simply too sweet, although it also had an earthy funk that we
liked. Bernie said he had enjoyed this wine when visiting the winery.
"Pinot gris tastes a little different when you drink it in Alsace," he
said.

Our reds gave us plenty of practice in withstanding withering criticism.
Frank's red, the 2006 Terre des Chardons Marginal from the Costières de
Nîmes, would be a terrific choice for a crowd of wine geeks. Its funky,
meaty flavor is a turn-on to certain kinds of questing palates. But what
Frank called aggressively interesting and I called baconlike, Florence
called liver-y, and Julia called weird. Polarizing, yes, but very good.

I loved the wine I brought, a 2007 Morgon from Daniel Bouland, an
excellent if unsung Beaujolais producer. I found its flavors of violets
and minerals endlessly interesting, but Julia said in the blind tasting
that it reminded her of Beaujolais, "and not in a good way."

Florence, sticking to her principle of only American wines for
Thanksgiving, picked a 2006 cabernet sauvignon from Liberty School in
Paso Robles. I don't usually think of cabernet as versatile, but this
wine had both roundness and structure. But Frank and Julia both thought
it was generic.

Bernie took a good stab with a 2005 cabernet franc, from Domaine
Delesvaux from the Anjou region of the Loire Valley. Loire reds are good
bets, but this was a little soft, although Julia called it "snippy,"
which she meant in a good way. Julia's red was a 2005 syrah from Morgan
in Monterey, and she loved its smoky sweetness. Florence and I both
called the wine bland, while Frank explained to Julia that he hated it.

It was a useful moment. Thanksgiving guests, after all, are more apt to
be emotional than clinical, and Julia handled the situation perfectly,
by ignoring Frank.

Let's sum up. As at any other gathering, tempestuous moments will occur
as passionate people express their heartfelt feelings. You cannot always
satisfy these people. So, keeping in mind what I've said about
versatile, nimble wines, the most important thing you can do is choose
wines you really like. That way, if nobody else is happy, you will at
least have pleased yourself.