Reading Between the Wines: A Season for That

Welcome to this (semi) regular series, Read Between the Wines, in which I review a book and suggest a wine pairing (it is a tough job but someone's gotta do it). I'm an avid reader, often reading one to two books a week. I mostly lean toward contemporary fiction, suspense, and, of course, stories that revolve around food and wine, both fiction and non.

As I describe in the header, I am a voracious reader, often reading one or two novels per week (you can follow me on Goodreads here to see what I’m reading at any given time). Even so, I often read a book, put it down, and move on to the next without taking the time to fully digest what I’ve just absorbed (or to put together a blog post about it). This has not been the case with A Season for That: Lost and Found in the Other Southern France by Steve Hoffman. From the description: “In this poignant, delicious memoir, American tax preparer and food writer Steve Hoffman tells the story of how he and his family move to the French countryside, where the locals upend everything he knows about food, wine, and learning how to belong.” I find myself mentally revisiting this memoir often. 

Firstly, Steve Hoffman is fellow Minnesotan and he makes several tongue in check references to the culinary world of the Midwest, which I don’t think I would have fully appreciated if I hadn’t resided outside of the Twin Cities for the last five years. There is such an interesting food and wine culture here. Yes, many of the stereotypes are true…there is a lot of cheese, often deep fried, and tater-tot topped hotdish is a legit dinner party offering. Oh, and don’t forget the frequent community fish fries and the love of ‘bars’ – brownies, blondies, anything that is baked in a sheet tray and cut into squares becomes a ubiquitous ‘bar.’ Supper clubs are totally a thing (and I must admit, I love the throwback nostalgia they invoke), as are the Brandy Alexanders served at them. So, there’s this very established, traditional food and drink culture, but there’s also a very fresh movement happening, and it's a small enough area that there is a decent concentration of fine dining, cultural exploration, and beverage programs to complement all of that. One trend that I am finding particularly fascinating is highlighting indigenous foods from the region (such as at Owamni and The Modern Indigenous).

Hoffman’s memoir transports the reader to a small town in southern France, a place removed from the glitz and glamour of Provence and St. Tropez. It is atmospheric and funny, often quite wry, and introspective and just a touch spiritual all at once. I was especially struck by his ruminations of who he wants to be in his head, and who he is, and how that fits in with who his family thinks he is and needs him to be…if that made any sense at all. There’s a passage in the beginning while he’s a young man in Paris, and he sees another man – erudite, stylish, sophisticated, and he thinks wow, that’s who I want to be. I think this is a very relatable sentiment. I know there are women that I encounter, either in real life or via social media, who just seem to have it together in a way that I have been unable to achieve thus far. But, to be fair, part of the story is Hoffman letting go of this ideal in favor of something more genuine, and arguably better.

The wine pairing portion is somewhat self evident here – the whole book is about Hoffman’s family living in southern France, specifically a small village called Autignac in the Languedoc region. The Languedoc-Roussillon region is one of the largest (if not the largest) wine regions in the world, sitting beside the Mediterranean coast along the southern border of France. This region grows a wide array of varieties, both local and international, and makes many different styles of wine. Grenache based blends are very popular for reds; whites are often blends based on Picpoul and Grenache Blanc. Pale provincial style rosé, sparkling wines, and fortified wines are all produced here as well. The region is a large generic production area, but there are smaller AOCs within it as well. Grenache would be the obvious pick here, as Hoffman talks about Grenache production (as well as Syrah and blends) quite a bit throughout the book. But here’s the thing…I hate Grenache. I remain open to the idea that maybe I just haven’t had a great one, or the right one, yet, but generally speaking, Grenache is not a style I enjoy. It tends to be higher in alcohol and quite fruity and fleshy, and I generally prefer lighter, more savory reds. Some of this dislike also came after a massive Grenache around the world tasting that just did me in, and I decided I could not drink any more Grenache…ever.

So, for this pairing, I’m going bubbles (because, why not?). Bubbles pair with everything. In this case, specifically Blanquette de Limoux. The town of Limoux is in the Pyrenean foothills, just south of Carcassonne. Blanquette de Limoux is produced in the traditional method using a minimum of 90% Mauzac, a white grape native to Languedoc with a very bright, appley character ideal for sparkling wine (Chardonnay and Chenin Blanc can make up the remainder of the blend). Blanquette de Limoux is considered to be one of the oldest sparkling wines, possibly predating Champagne, and is usually quite a value find compared to other traditional method sparklings.

I can personally attest that this is a great pairing with seared scallops atop a celeriac puree. Yum.

Steve Hoffman and his wife Mary Jo (a photographer, blogger, and book publisher in her own right) will be speaking to the Minnesota Les Dames d'Escoffier next month -- an organization for which I have been the treasurer for the past three years -- and I am very much looking forward to the program.