At the precise moment that Spring 2011 arrived Richie and I were 4 hours and 21 minutes into a champagne extravaganza our friend and host called, “Spring Bubbles.” Invitees, about 15 of us, were encouraged to bring at least one bottle per person of moderately priced champagne or methode champenoise. We chose Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label Brut and Nicolas Feuillatte Brut. We like the Bruts over the Extra Dry because they are less sweet and taste like, well, grapes.
That being said, I found my palate for determining the subtle differences from bottle to bottle to be, at best, severely lacking. While I have a very heightened sense of smell – I can tell if the dryer is running or if the oven is on and I can not only tell that the neighbors are grilling 75 to 100 yards away, but what they are cooking – my ability to taste subtleties in flavors is positively pedestrian.
The party was an overwhelming success and our host promised to make it an annual event. We knew all but one person that attended so it was very comfortable and you could tell just by the volume of the laughter how long we had been at it. There was no music to talk over just each other’s story telling and joking. It was very organic and natural. Don’t let anyone tell you there is not magic in a bottle – or several – of champagne.
I like tasting things and I don’t like everything. There are some foods I just don’t want in my mouth. Like, why do I enjoy salmon in sushi or smoked with creamed cheese but baked or poached salmon makes my skin crawl? I have tried over the years to like caviar. I could never get over that fishy flavor and just enjoy the fresh briny taste and the creamy texture. Yesterday that changed. I ate some caviar on canapés and liked it. Ate more on tiny potatoes and liked it even more. A moment of personal growth. Richie ate some and liked it too. We decided to drink more champagne to celebrate our mutual milestone. [the faint fanfare of tiny horns]
But still, I could not make any determining remarks on the champagne beyond whether I liked one more than another. In the end, I wound up ranking Veuve Clicquot the best and not just because it was what we brought. It has a complexity that develops while it sits on your tongue. The bubbles are plentiful and small. I found myself going back to that more often than any of the others. That’s the best I can come up with.
I’m still not going to be trying the baked salmon anytime soon but I have made a firm commitment to grilling some with an herb rub that might bring me around. But what of the cut? Steaks or fillets? I have more research to do.
