Wine, On the Half Shell

The rise of oyster bars gives one sommelier an opportunity to find the perfect pairing

2011, it seems, is the year of the oyster. Oyster bars, and platters of chipped ice, are appearing at venues all over Chicago. And they’re popping up just in time to keep us cool this summer.

The big question (after how big the platter is, and whether you’re planning to share) is what to drink with your pile of sunken treasure. With an ice block filled with oysters, mussels, crab legs and lobster, how do you choose the perfect liquid accompaniment?

I very subtly (cough, cough) hinted to my executive chef, Ryan LaRoche, that it would be great to test my theories against a selection. He fell for it – I mean, agreed – and put together an amazing hoard of pirate’s booty. I then pillaged the cellar to find out what really worked best.

The oysters themselves, a fabulous selection of kusshi, had a succulent, briny quality, with a creamy rich texture. Typically, I like to play the acidity card, using the wine instead of the squeeze of lemon. Champagne is a brilliant choice, with its wonderful flavors of lemon and crisp apple, and the fine bubbles clean the palate beautifully.

Alongside Champagne, crisp, minerally whites are always terrific, too. Many come from areas where the soil (like the limestone in Chablis, for example) contains fossilized shellfish. The mineral notes echo the underlying tones of the half-shell and create a spiritual pairing, a vinous remembrance of prehistoric geology.

Of the many wines that combine high acid and mineral-tones (there are lots, including the Muscadets of Jo Landron or Fevre Chablis), I poured a glass of Pertinace Roero Arneis. From the Piedmont, Arneis is a grape that steps delicately between white flowers, crisp white peaches, almonds and minerals. It gave the shellfish a wonderfully clean flavor on the palate, like a cool sea-breeze carrying the fresh smell of a morning walk on the beach.

If the Arneis was light and clean, equally successful was the glass of Guinness Stout next to it, which gave the oysters an unbelievable creamy texture. The brinyness of the Oceanside was washed away by long, rolling waves of chocolate-y stout deliciousness. And if you’re lucky enough to stumble on some smoked honey mussels like I did, the double-smokiness of the combination is phenomenal, as if Poseidon himself had fired up the barbecue.

While the stout was also delicious with sweet lobster tail, a glass of Louis Bouillot Brut Rosé (sparkling rosé from Burgundy) was an elegant and decadent way to enjoy it. The rosé did not fair as well with the oysters (brine and berries was quite peculiar), but it did give the succulent lobster some gorgeous berry tones. And if it was good with the lobster, the Louis Bouillot was sublime with the Alaskan king crab legs.

I poured a Stone Brewing India Pale Ale (from Escondido, California), too, which gave the oysters a flowery, hoppy flavor, laced with notes of the sea. But tucked on the side of the platter, carved into the ice, was a tiny ramekin of soy-sesame-marinated lobster knucklemeat. The IPA and sesame made the most exquisite harmony between the herbaceous and honey notes of the beer with the toasty sesame marinade. It’s easy to forget that it’s not so much the protein in the pairing, but how it’s prepared that matters.

The great part of this experiment was the fact that there were so many great combinations. And with that knowledge, it’s easy to concede: the world, at least for a meal, truly is your oyster.