Drinking with the seasons

I’ve decided to try drinking with the seasons. I used to pay zero attention to seasons either in my cooking (tossing a giant, expensive, and tasteless salad in the dead of winter) or in my wine-drinking (tossing back a Rose along with the salad in said dead of winter). Now I make hearty, bone-warming dishes in winter, lots of greens in spring for detox, fresh fresh fresh food in summer, and ease into soup in the fall to stave off the chill of going from 90 to 60 degrees.

It’s only natural to match “seasonal” wine with food, though wine isn’t actually seasonal in the same way as food, since it’s not a fresh product that comes to market only certain times of the year a la pomegranates or watermelon. In the northern hemisphere, grapes are generally harvested from August to October; in the southern hemisphere it’s the opposite. Depending on the length of fermentation and how long the winemaker lets it age before bottling (and then often there’s even more ageing) and when it finally comes to market, who knows what the “season” is, and releases vary widely.

So in talking about wine’s seasonality, it’s more about the types of wines that match the weather, your mood, and the food at hand. In fall, richer whites beckon while last summer simple, refreshing quaffers satisfied perfectly well. Lighter, earthy reds match earthy, gamey fall food and mushrooms (hunting and truffle season). There’s nothing more jarring than a big, brawny Zinfandel with 16 percent alcohol on a 95 degree day, or a blush of a Rose on a day so cold your nose hurts.

I’m still into a soup-making frenzy: this time it’s a super-simple recipe called Scallion and Potato Soup from Real Simple. My secret: I use White Port instead of white wine in the soup. It’s rich, heartwarming, and delicious, and it gives the soup an incredible depth that makes it perfect for fall. (Oh, and I don’t use that much heavy cream either. I put in one cup and add an extra half cup of chicken broth instead.)

The Chenin Blanc I chose was the 2006 Kanu from Stellenbosch, South Africa, which is one of the new premier regions to grow this grape. I’ve had plenty of Vouvrays (Chenin Blanc from France) and a few insipid versions from California. Chenin Blanc is a deliciously perfumed wine with honey and honeysuckle and perfumed aromas and flavors. The Kanu was wow–mouthpuckeringly steely with grapefruit just bursting out of the glass. It was completely dry and I unoaked or only slightly oaked, because it was so fresh and beautiful.

The wine was a nice fat breaker to the creaminess of the soup, like a detergent cuts grease, only much more elegant. I couldn’t remember how much it was, and I almost fell out of my chair when I saw the price. At $6.99, it’s a huge steal.

Next time I might try a light earthy red, or even a few sips of the White Port itself.