Salade Niçoise and Rosé

The weather has been so unseasonally hot over the last couple of days - well into the 20s (or the late 70s for those of you who prefer to think in Fahrenheit) - that I’m suddenly fast-forwarding to summer and one of my favourite meals, Salade Niçoise.

It’s one of those classic dishes over which strong views rage - over the presence or absence of tuna, anchovies or, more controversially still, green beans and potatoes. Jacques Médecin in his Cuisine Niçoise claims that the original was made predominantly of tomatoes and consists exclusively of raw ingredients (apart from hard-boiled eggs) and would not have been dressed with a vinaigrette, merely with olive oil. Seared tuna, a popular replacement for tinned tuna nowadays, is a totally new-fangled invention.

Personally I like to gild the lily so I break all the rules. I blanch some fine green beans and refresh them with cold water. I lay them on a plate and scatter them with small, sweet cherry tomatoes, some torn fresh basil leaves and some generous chunks of tuna (I like the Spanish tuna which comes in jars rather than in tins. Ortiz is a good brand). I drizzle all that with a little vinaigrette, top it with some halved or quartered hard boiled eggs over each of which I sometimes (unforgiveably) dollop a teaspoon of mayo. I drape anchovies over the top than scatter the salad with a handful of black olives. I serve warm, buttered new potatoes with it. And a glass of rosé, of course.

You can drink any rosé you like but I personally find the fruitier styles from Chile and elsewhere in the New World just a bit too sweet for this dish. I also find many Provencal rosés a touch wimpy. What you need is a bold, dry southern French rosé from the Rhône or the Languedoc. The rosés from Costières de Nîmes are particularly good. Or a Spanish rosado from Rioja or Navarra. But that would probably break the rules too.

Photo © Ivan Mateev @fotolia.com

Rabbit (or chicken) with spring vegetables and Viognier

On Saturday I was in London’s Borough Market which was full of the most wonderful spring vegetables - artichokes, broad beans, peas and asparagus. It reminded me of a dish I normally make this time of year when we’re at our house in the Languedoc in southern France which is rabbit braised with spring vegetables and Viognier.

It was one of those serendipitous dishes that just came together from the ingredients to hand: Rabbit, as those of you who have been to a French butcher will know, is hugely popular in France (no sentimentality about the Easter Bunny among the frogs . . . ) but you could just as well use chicken.

What you can buy at this time of year is baby artichokes which require less extensive preparation than the full-size ones, just removing the outer leaves and cutting them in half to remove the hairy choke. I always start off the dish frying off a few cubes of bacon (lardons) then sweat off a couple of sliced cloves of wet (new season’s) garlic and some sliced sweet white onions (the local ones in France come from Lzignan which is famous for the quality of its onions).

I pour in a glass of Viognier and let it bubble up then add the artichokes and a strip of lemon peel. I lightly brown the rabbit pieces and add them to the pot together with a pinch of herbes de Provence, chuck in another glass of wine and a little water, cover the pan and let the whole thing burble away very slowly for 45 minutes to an hour until the rabbit is almost cooked. I blanch a few fresh broad beans and peas and some chopped, peeled asparagus stalks (leaving the spears for another recipe) then add them to the pot and continue to cook until the vegetables are tender. (I add the veg at the end so they stay a nice bright green rather than turning to khaki sludge). Finally I stir in a handful of fresh soft herbs - parsley and a bit of chervil and tarragon if I’ve got it.

Well, this wasn’t intended to be a recipe but a wine match but once I’d started I thought I’d better finish in case you fancied trying it out yourself. The point about the story is the Viognier which is what I had to hand. (Domaine du Météore, if I remember rightly, which comes from just up the road.) And it worked really perfectly, adding a richness and lusciousness to the dish you wouldn’t have got from chardonnay. We drank the same wine with the dish too.

Another possibility, as a food writer friend I met in the market reminded me, would be Arneis the gently aromatic white wine, originally from Piedmont but now being increasingly produced in Australia and California. It might also work with a Pinot Gris if it didn't have too much residual sugar (i.e. didn't taste too sweet)

Prosecco and panettone

The soft creamy fizz of Italy's famous sparkling wine Prosecco makes it a marvellous match for Italian panettone which is not too rich or too sweet to overwhelm it. I discovered the combination a couple of years ago when I tried the celebratory Easter dove-shaped Colomba Pasquale which is topped with crystallised sugar with a glass of Bisol’s elegant Cartizze Prosecco de Valdobbiadene which sells in the UK for roughly 16 a bottle (check out wine-searcher.com for stockists)

Coincidentally a mailing has just dropped into my inbox from a US based importer of luxury Italian foods called gustiamo.com offering a designer Colomba for $70 which must make it the most expensive panettone on the planet! It’s made by Signor Marchesi, owner of the historic Pasticceria Marchesi in Milan (where else?) and apparently contains ‘fresh mountain butter’ (no doubt the reason for the cost!) Carluccio's in the UK has a more modestly priced one for £13.99 which no longer seems to be available by mail order but which you should be able to find in one of their caffes. Or head for your local Italian deli who will probably have one cheaper still.

Bill Gunn, the UK importer of Pol Roger, told me once their ‘rich’ cuvée goes well with panettone too. Gustiamo recommends Moscato. Any of these combinations would be a stylish way to round off an Easter meal if you haven’t got time to make a pud.

Image © karandaev - Fotolia.com

Goats' cheese and Sauvignon Blanc

Despite the freak flurries of snow and sub arctic temperatures last week spring has officially arrived and with it longer daylight hours and a switch to lighter eating. For me there’s no combination that reflects the season better than goats' cheese and Sauvignon Blanc, one of the great classic food and wine pairings.

Does it matter which goats' cheese and which Sauvignon and whether you introduce any other ingredients to the plate? Not a lot, if truth be told. You might argue that it’s impossible to beat a Sancerre paired with a Crottin de Chavignol from the same area but I’ve had equal pleasure from a young moussey goats' cheese with an unoaked New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc (the match is certainly better without oak which diminishes the Sauvignon’s acidity and minerality)

If the cheese is grilled or part of a salad that will work too, especially if the salad includes soft herbs such as tarragon, coriander or dill. Likewise, asparagus, which has a similar flavour profile to Sauvignon Blanc will enhance the match. You can even add contrasting ingredients such as roasted grilled peppers and the pairing will work. Take full advantage of it!