{"id":25705,"date":"2016-02-22T11:46:53","date_gmt":"2016-02-22T16:46:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/developer83.wordpress-developer.us\/culturecheesemag\/?p=25705"},"modified":"2016-02-22T11:46:53","modified_gmt":"2016-02-22T16:46:53","slug":"gewurztraminer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/developer83.wordpress-developer.us\/culturecheesemag\/gewurztraminer\/","title":{"rendered":"Cheese + Wine: Gew\u00fcrztraminer"},"content":{"rendered":"

The cheese announced itself before it was even out of the bag. My friend Juan-Pedro procured it from a smoky bar in Ca\u0301diz, Spain, the kind of place where chunks of cheese and sausage come free with glasses of sherry. We cleaved off oily, crumbly chunks, nibbling tentatively. On the palate, it was a romp through a field of wildflowers and dry grasses where wooly sheep and wild animals roam. The acidity was maniacal, spicy in its tang. Flavors were explosive and all encompassing.<\/p>\n

So what to drink? Short of a fortified wine like sherry, what would stand up to this cheese? I chose gewu\u0308rztraminer. When it comes to pairing white wines with stinky cheeses, this grape variety is an overlooked and underappreciated champion.<\/p>\n

The name is a stumbling block for many people (it\u2019s pronounced guh-VURTZ-tra-mee-ner), but it\u2019s terrifically informative: Tramin<\/em> is the municipality in northeastern Italy where the grape originates and gewu\u0308rz<\/em> means \u201cspice\u201d in German, the dominant language of this Tyrolean town. There are several grape varieties called \u201ctraminer,\u201d in fact, but the pink-skinned one with a piquant scent—gewu\u0308rztraminer<\/em>, in local parlance—has now made its way around the world, thanks to seductive aromas and flavors.<\/p>\n

The grape grows best in cool climates, such as on the slopes of the Tyrolean Alps or the Vosges Mountains in France, its two main strongholds. In the last decade, gewu\u0308rztraminer has been grown successfully in Marlborough, New Zealand, along the Finger Lakes in upstate New York, and even on a chilly plateau in Greece\u2019s Peloponnese.<\/p>\n

Unlike most white grapes that grow in high altitudes, where they stay lean and tangy, gewu\u0308rztraminer grapes can get tropically ripe, filling up with notes of lychee, mango, pineapple, and passion fruit. The wine is also incredibly floral, and can smell like a rose garden—one that\u2019s set next to a spice market, that is.<\/p>\n

With such a heady personality and alcohol levels that regularly reach 14 percent, gewu\u0308rztraminer is not a shy wine. In Alsace, gewu\u0308rztraminer is the wine for choucroute garnie<\/em> (a dish of cured meats braised in sauerkraut) as it goes toe-to-toe with tangy fermented cabbage and fatty sausage. It\u2019s also de rigueur<\/i> with Munster cheese<\/a>. And it worked magic with our stinky Spanish wedge: floral against floral, spice against spice, with enough richness to tamp down the cheese\u2019s wilder tendencies.<\/p>\n

Not all gewu\u0308rztraminers are created equal, however. New World versions are often less intense than Old World ones; richness tends to build with price. For the most luxurious experience, look for sweet, late-harvest versions or any labeled SGN—Se\u0301lection de Grains Nobles<\/em>—a sign they\u2019ve been made from Botrytis cinerea<\/i>–infected grapes (the mold dehydrates the fruit, thereby concentrating sweetness and often adding a smoky, honeyed flavor). In midwinter gewu\u0308rztraminers can be a welcome taste of the tropics and an aromatic reminder that blooming flowers are just around the corner—even when it\u2019s 10 degrees below zero.<\/p>\n

TEN TO TRY<\/h3>\n

These gewu\u0308rztraminers range from light and dry to rich and sweet.<\/em><\/p>\n