Must all food be paired with wine?

V sanjay Kumaris skeptical about wine pairings and suggests we be circumspect when it comes to Indian cuisine

Do you know who invented Bluetooth? “I have no idea,” said my better half. “Why don’t you Google the answer?’ Is Google a verb? She frowned. “Don’t be smart,” she said.

I was in a funky mood because so many of my devices were lost, looking to Bluetooth. Speakers, computers, phones. Even my car’s dashboard couldn’t do without it. These days, when I buy a new device it sits up and asks to be paired. It is eerie; I hear it beep; it starts speaking to me, and it generates number codes. I get into a frenzy, gather all my devices, and start stabbing buttons on three of them.

“What are you doing?” asked my better half. Bluetoothing, I said. I am trying to pair this thing with God knows what. She laughed. “Is it harder than pairing wine?”

Pairing wine with food is a favourite pastime in my wine groups. It is almost as if every bottle of wine sits up and asks to be paired. Trust me, it doesn’t, and yet wine pairing has become an obsession. On occasion, there are heated arguments when a wine connoisseur is pitted against a gourmet. Both think they have a better palate, just the skill required for pairing. Neither understands nor has experienced the other world as well.

For example, few of my gourmet friends can spell Pouilly-Fuissé or discuss ‘bret’ and ‘ouillage’. And few wine connoisseurs I know have figured out what ‘umami’ and ‘garrigue’ mean on the palate. They cannot tell whether the milk in their ‘matcha’ came from a cow, from oats, or from almonds. Yet they are so confident in setting pairing menus.

Some wine has an acute disdain for food. I like these wines. They can be bristly with smarmy tannins like a nubile Barolo or Sagrantino, or sharp with biting acidity, like a Trocken Riesling or a Champagne made with zero dosage and evil intentions. A few are like people with bad breath; they blow bret on opening. The odd wine, the unfiltered carbonic type, like a sullen Morgon from Beaujolais, has a bad complexion – sallow and cloudy, with patchy discolouration. My better half tastes its sour, ripe tamarind notes and pairs it with vatha kozhumbu, that wondrous Tamil coagulation that she calls an umami accompaniment to ponni rice.

The fine wines that strut around with perfect balance, that tiptoe expertly between fruit, acidity, and tannins, are very challenging when it comes to pairing. They are so balanced that any food could tip the scales and mar their experience.

Some food begs to be left alone. Bengali food reminds me of a haughty Bose speaker that refused to be paired. Mustard is a Bengali weapon, gourmets use it to taunt sommeliers. The mustard paste in fish, the sprinkled mustard oil in snacks like jhaal murri, and the once-used mustard oil with gobindbhog rice, onions, and green chillies are the stuff of pairing nightmares. Pairing these dishes with any wine is like Bluetoothing Bose. Sommeliers are hardy triers. They will pair a rich Spatlese or Auslese Riesling to blunt the mustard and yet highlight its vegetal streak. They will pair a creamy, subtle shukto with a crisp Sauvignon Blanc. Or stare down a fatty, starchy aloo dum with a nervy Chianti. They may even experiment with marrying the storied illich maach with a Blanc de Noir from a cool year.

Pairing wine with South Indian cuisine, particularly Tamil, is like force-feeding infants. My mouth turns away, as theirs do, unable to process the marriage between sambar and Pinot, or manathakkali keerai, a feisty green, and Chenin Blanc. Someone suggested pairing Napa reds with puliyotharai, a rice steeped in tamarind and pepper. Trust the locals on this. No one walking into a Madurai Muniyandi Vilas or Courtrallam Border Rahmat Kadai in Chennai is likely to ask for a glass of Syrah. At best, a lime soda or an antacid. At Manjal, the new Kongu eatery in Chennai that revels in meats and gravies, there are three flavoured goli sodas on offer, and no wine. Mind you, there have been brave attempts. A famous restaurant in a seven-star hotel in Chennai paired its nouvelle cuisine with ten (!) grower champagnes. It was a praiseworthy attempt.

Success comes from other quarters, particularly the North West frontier. A glass of wine is an ideal accompaniment to its cuisine. Galouti kebabs beg for a robust blend from Bolgheri that has a smidgen of Cabernet Franc. A mutton seekh will glide very well with a juicy Aussie Syrah from Barossa. A malai murgh is delightful with a glass of Oregon Pinot Noir. And butter naans are the perfect snack for fresh Blanc de Blanc Champagne. I could even turn a phirni towards a Spätlese Riesling.

Sometimes, I just don’t care. Why waste time trying? Why sweat over pairing when fine wine in its solitary splendour is a glorious experience? I am happy by myself most evenings with a good chair, a nice view, silence, and a glass of say a 2014 Ravaneau Chablis. Or say a 2020 Kumeu Mates Chardonnay. One is a sharp sonnet, the other a sweet symphony.