An Omelette and a Glass of Clinton

Eggs are not a food I pair with wine. This may have to do with the time of day I usually eat them: breakfast or lunch. Hubrecht Duijker, Mr. Wine in Holland now retired, recommends a dry sparkling wine to go with them. His are the ones you get at a traditional New Year’s Eve party, where the eggs are devilled and sparkling wine is abundant. More often than not, however, eggs are an ingredient, be it in a Spanish tortilla or a sauce Hollandaise – and who wouldn’t like a glass of wine with those?
But a plain omelette?
‘Let’s just have an omelette and a glass of wine’ may indicate ‘the almost primitive and elemental meal’ (Elizabeth David, ‘An Omelette and a Glass of Wine’ in the anthology of the same title). The kind of meal one longs for after a hard day’s work. It’s late, you’re tired and hungry but you don’t feel like cooking, so you drag yourself to the fridge: eggs, a rind of Parmesan, drooping lettuce, half a lemon, and on your way back you grab a bottle of whichever wine you come across first. When Elizabeth David drags herself to the fridge she naturally returns with eggs, a piece of home-made pâté, olives, a fresh salad, ripe, creamy cheese and fresh fruit. The omelette she turns the eggs into contains Parmesan and Gruyère. This indeed primitive and elemental meal is then washed down with a local (she admits sometimes dreadful) wine.
perfecteggArchitect, script writer and travel and gastronomy author Aldo Buzzi (1910-2009) also likes to pair eggs and wine. And a local, in fact very local wine at that. So I read in his little book about all things foodie: The Perfect Egg and Other Secrets (it’s the kind of thing one gets published only after one has made a name for oneself with several more substantial works).
In ‘Eggs on Leeks’ he gives a recipe of – you guessed right – fried eggs on boiled and chopped leeks. ‘The [frothy] butter mingles with the remaining waters from the leeks to make a delectable little sauce. Should be accompanied by a good glass of Clinto (…).’
There he is again (see my posting Foreign Affairs): Clinto, Crinto or Clinton. This American hybrid produces a dark red wine, low in alcohol, famous for its stains, not for its taste: a bit foxy, they say, or ‘peculiar’. I wouldn’t really know as this outlaw grape is hard to come by. It is still grown in some places, including France and, where Buzzi must have gotten his bottle from, Veneto. Every now and then voices are heard who plead to lift the ban on American hybrids, as they need much less chemical treatment. For this plot of Clinton, however, there is no hope left. Or so I think. I must confess I don’t understand a word they say.

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