Rhône Wine and a Lyonnaise Message

Last Wednesday I had the pleasure of attending L'Etoile's Rhône Wine Dinner. Like one of Mrs. Lovett's meat pies, it proved an altogether delicious experience that was punctuated by a single moment of shocking horror.

My favorite course of the evening featured a classic onion soup paired with Domaine la Soumade's 2001 "Cuvée Confiance," an outstanding Rasteau. While I'm not terribly experienced with the AOC, this one has certainly piqued my interest in the region. The head was peppery and intense, and the flavors rich and complex, with good acid, but also fruit and berries. The finish was just insane; like the Longines Symphonette or the birdhouse in my soul, it didn't rest. Retailing for just under $50, this is far from a viable everyday wine, but I would happily drink it on a special occasion in the future, especially alongside another country soup or stew.

This particular soup was gratinéed with Uplands Cheese Company's 20-month Pleasant Ridge Reserve (an interesting local favorite made in Dodgeville), and the cheese's sharp complexity played incredibly with some of the darker notes in the Rasteau. From there, the flavors transitioned smoothly into sweet onion, making for a simple and elegant finish.

In other words, the pairing totally kicked ass.

Also excellent was the course of cassoulet and Châteauneuf-du-Pape, this time Domaine Marcoux's 2003. The combination is classic, but the individual components made this instance noteworthy. The wine opened with dark, jammy notes, and finished with nice fruit and pleasant mineral undertones--at $50 a bottle I may never taste this excellent Châteauneuf again, but I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it to anyone looking for a splurge.

Cassoulet, meanwhile, enjoys near legendary status, but I find that in practice it almost always disappoints. (Campagne, I'm looking at you.) I can say without hesitation that this was the best I've ever tasted. The house made Saucisse de Toulouse was a refined example of the traditional sausage , the Blue Valley Garden confit reaffirmed my love of duck, and the incredibly tender Grass is Greener shouder of lamb was a credit to the art of braising. Together, they made for a superlative cassoulet.

Unfortunately, there was a darker side to the meal. Upon taking my seat, I was presented not only with a glass of rosé, but also with this:

Beignet de Fromage

Warm Roth Käse Private Reserve Cheese Pâte à Choux

What could this mean? A week earlier I had posted a recipe for the very same dish, less only the 350 degree oil.

Then it dawned on me. Just the previous day, The Isthmus had linked to my hard-hitting exposé on the gross iniquities in the Wisconsin cattle markets--an exposé that also alluded to the very Rhône Wine dinner I was attending.

Innocuous coincidence, or nefarious conspiracy to maintain, through fear, their stranglehold on local ribeye futures? You be the judge, but I'm not taking any chances. For me, it wouldn't have been clearer had each beignet been a fish wrapped in newspaper.

This was an Alice Waters-inspired, locally produced, Lyonnaise Message. I won't be silenced, but I will be watching my back when I'm at the market shopping for gruyère or oranges. Thank God the cassoulet was so good.

Merry Christmas Tony Bourdain!

From time to time, I enjoy a healthy wager. For instance, if I were to discover a book that claims to be about appreciating food, but turns out to be a joyless, political, and atrociously written piece that somehow managed to find a publisher (to be continued, dear reader [1/9/08 Update]), I might try to finish the work if a sadistic friend bet me a cocktail that I couldn't.

The danger of such wagers, of course, is that after a few hours of reading said dreck, one finds himself fighting the urge to keep from swallowing an arsenic colada or a couple of shotgun shells.

As I set the book down and turned the television on in an American prelude to blowing my brains out, a savior appeared before me, descending into my living room like Jesus from the magical glowing box. He wore a hilariously out-of-place suit and red tie, and was flanked by rock stars in festive Christmas garb; as was foretold in the holy books of The Guide and Tivo, it was Tony, and I had stumbled upon Anthony Bourdain's Holiday Special.

Like Bing Crosby, Bourdian hosted not the trite, commercialized Christmas special of the modern era, but a festive holiday with friends and family, hearkening to days long gone. Only this time, there was more Scotch, more foie gras, more Sandra Lee bashing, and Queens of the Stone Age in QVC Christmas sweaters. Oh, and there was also a little curling, a lot of cursing, and some fake blood for good measure. It was, in a word, amazing.

Truly he is the king of kings.

In Madison, the best holiday special ever will be on again at 10pm this Wednesday on the Travel Channel. Don't miss it.

Say! I like cheese puffed with air! I do! I like to eat gougères!

I've been going cheese crazy lately.

Don't worry, though. Despite what my Seussian blather might imply, cheese madness isn't a newly discovered spongiform encephalopathy. Instead, it's what happens when a really good cheese shop opens less than a mile from your home. And rather than having one's brain ravaged by rogue, misfolding proteins--that's alcohol's job, damn it!--the major detrimental effects seem to end at spending way, way too much money on deliciousness.

Of course, one can't subsist on cheese alone, as the doctors told me when my bleary-eyed, half naked, mostly dead form was pulled from beneath a seething mound of brie scraps and pecorino romano crumbs. No, astonishing as it may seem, we must sometimes use our cheese with other ingredients.

Over the last few weeks, I've been making old favorites with newly available Wisconsin cheeses, and I've been trying to think of other classics to bring back to the table. That's why I was so excited to see the recent post on pâte à choux at Michael Ruhlman's new Elements of Cooking blog. (I haven't read the book yet, because my birthday is right around the corner. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.) Pâte à choux is the wonder dough behind beignets, éclairs, and profiteroles, and even though it's simple to make, it's also largely neglected by most home cooks, probably because it has a scary French name, as do most of its applications.

Of course, this pâte isn't only for pastry. Among its savory uses is the storied gougère, the king of the cheese poof family, and a convenient opportunity for me to use some great cheese in a not-an-everyday-thing-unless-you-happen-to-live-in-a-bistro style dish.

I used 2/3 a cup of Roth Käse's Gruyère-style Private Reserve with the standard 1 cup water, 1 cup flour, 1 cup eggs, and one stick of butter, and kept the seasoning simple with a little salt and black pepper. They turned out light and airy, but preserved the richness of the cheese. Had I not eaten a dozen, I might even have been able to claim that they were healthy. Next time I'll be a little bolder, upping the cheese content to around 3/4 of a cup, and (cringe, purists) adding some cayenne.

Ruhlman is right on. Pâte à choux is a versatile concoction that should be in every cook's repertoire.

You do not cook it.

So you say.

Try it! Try it!

And you may.

Try it and you may, I say.

If nothing else, it's an excuse to eat more cheese.