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Champagne with Chinese food works until the fifth dish

The bottle is excellent with the first two dishes. By the fifth it has turned thin, sour and slightly mean, and nobody at the table can say quite when that happened. Nothing changed in the glass. The food changed, and Champagne is far more sensitive to what is on the plate than its reputation as the wine that goes with anything would suggest.

That reputation is the problem, so let us start there.

Why it works when it works

Champagne's advantage over still white wine at a Chinese table comes from three things acting together.

Carbonation. Dissolved carbon dioxide gives a physical scrubbing effect and a faint prickle that resets the palate between mouthfuls. Against anything deep-fried or fatty, that matters more than any flavour affinity.

Acidity. Champagne is grown at the cold northern edge of French viticulture and keeps very high natural acidity. Acid provokes saliva and cuts through oil, which is exactly the job in front of it.

Low alcohol. Most Champagne sits around 12 to 12.5 per cent, which is low by modern standards. Alcohol amplifies the burn of chilli and turns salt harsh, so a lower-alcohol wine has an advantage at a table with either.

Put those together and the natural home of Champagne in Cantonese cooking is obvious: spring rolls, taro puffs, deep-fried wontons, salt and pepper squid, crispy-skinned roast goose, salt-baked chicken, roast pigeon. Fat and salt and crunch. Nothing does that job better.

Where the fights start

Sugar in the dish beats sugar in the wine. This is the mechanism people never get told, and it explains most bad matches. If the dish is sweeter than the wine, your palate reads the wine as sour, thin and stripped. Sweet-and-sour pork, honey-glazed char siu, hoisin with Peking duck, plum sauce, sweet soy-braised dishes — every one of these will flatten a bone-dry Champagne.

The fix is dosage. Brut Nature and Extra Brut, with almost no added sugar, are the fashionable choice and the wrong one here. A standard Brut at around eight or nine grams per litre copes. An Extra Dry, which confusingly contains more sugar than Brut, is genuinely better with sweet-glazed dishes, and Demi-Sec is the right answer with dessert. Ordering the driest thing available is not the sophisticated choice at this table. It is the choice that makes the wine lose.

Umami makes dry wine taste bitter. Glutamate — abundant in soy sauce, dried scallop, mushrooms, XO sauce, fermented bean products — increases the perception of astringency and bitterness in wine while suppressing the perception of fruit. A young, lean, low-dosage Champagne against a steamed fish drowned in soy will taste hollow and metallic.

There are two counters. Salt in the dish partly cancels the effect, which is why salt-heavy dishes are more forgiving than they should be. And a Champagne with long lees ageing has developed its own savoury, brothy character through autolysis, so it meets the dish on the same ground instead of being flattened by it. This is the single best argument for opening a mature vintage Champagne with steamed fish or with hairy crab: it stops being a contrast and becomes a match.

Heat. Capsaicin binds to the same receptors that respond to physical heat, and alcohol makes them more sensitive. Cold, low-alcohol, slightly sweeter Champagne is a real relief with chilli oil. Bone-dry, warm Champagne makes it worse.

Dark braises. Abalone or sea cucumber in a long-reduced oyster sauce, braised pork belly, anything with depth and stickiness and a slight sweetness — Champagne has nothing to offer here and gets swamped. This is not a matter of choosing a better Champagne.

Rosé, and a small warning

Rosé Champagne is genuinely useful with roast goose and with duck, where its red-fruit character meets plum and hoisin instead of arguing with them. But rosé made by bleeding off juice from red skins carries some tannin, and tannin plus bitter greens — gai lan, choi sum with oyster sauce — can turn slightly metallic. If in doubt, keep rosé with the poultry and away from the vegetables.

The received wisdom that is wrong

Champagne does not go with everything. It goes brilliantly with fat, salt and frying, and it goes badly with sugar, dark braises and heavy umami unless the wine is old enough to answer back. The reason people repeat the everything claim is that it is usually served at the start of a meal, with the cold platter and the fried items, which is exactly where it shines. Nobody stays to see it lose to the braised abalone in course seven.

Which points at the practical conclusion for a Hong Kong banquet: one bottle cannot carry ten courses, and it was never supposed to. Champagne is the wine for the first third — the cold cuts, the soup, the fried and roasted dishes — and something else should take over when the sauces get dark and sweet.

Serve it warmer than they will

Restaurants pour Champagne straight from a fridge running at 4 degrees. At that temperature the aroma is locked down and all you get is cold and prickle. Somewhere between 8 and 10 degrees is where the wine actually shows. In an air-conditioned dining room a glass warms fast, so ask for a bucket with ice and water in it — a bucket of dry ice cubes barely touches the bottle — and let the first glass sit a minute before you judge it.

Who should skip Champagne entirely

If the meal you are planning is built on braised, sweet and dark-sauced dishes, do not force it through. That table wants something with a bit of weight and gentle tannin, or it wants tea. Bringing Champagne to it and concluding that the wine was disappointing is the most common way people talk themselves out of a style that would have worked perfectly two courses earlier.

Where to start

Champagne is the wine for the first third of the meal, so buy for the fried and roasted courses rather than for all ten. The one bottle worth spending on is an older one, because lees age is what stops soy and dried scallop flattening it.

이전의
Why Extra Dry Champagne is sweeter than Brut
다음
What a vintage chart hides behind a single score