Friday, Dec. 15, 2006

Soup's on, so grab a glass!

By Teri Citterman

Why, when we order soup in any sort of line, do we panic? This happened to me recently. I walked into a soup place and immediately faced two lines. Is this one for soup or sandwiches? I didn't know, and they weren't marked. The pressure not to screw up was building.

Now it was my turn and the guy behind the counter asked for my order. "Chicken noodle soup." I moved down the line to the register, and there, the woman asked me what I was having. "Chicken noodle," I said, thinking she was going to ring me up. She turned around and started preparing another chicken noodle soup for me.

Now the guy behind the counter yells at me for double ordering.

Why has it become so intimidating to order soup? Have we really become cultural victims to the Soup Nazi? But nonetheless, it is soup season and it's forever time for a beautiful glass of wine.

With spoons in hand, my scientific tasters, Kate and April, joined me at the friendly Soup Daddy's Soup in Seattle's Pioneer Square to dissect the flavors of wine and soup.

We started with simple chicken noodle but quickly found this was not Mom's average chicken soup. This had gusto and barked, "Who's your daddy!" Infused with pungent pepper and penne pasta, this was a big, complex soup that, with its medicinal properties, could heal a snake bite.

This soup needed something strong and strapping. Maryhill Winery's 2004 Zinfandel from Washington's Columbia Valley did not disappoint. It was smooth and brooding, so we thought we'd save this one for a beef somethin' somethin', but it was the right wine at the right time. It was juicy velvet with herby spice; a raging rock star gone mad on air guitar. It worked well with the soup but would feel more at ease accompanied by a big, bloody steak.

Next in line was the chunkiest-ever beef stew. It smelled like grandma's kitchen and took you back to simpler times, when people drove cars without a phone wrapped around their head and everyone's parents had a full set of encyclopedias. This soup was soft and plump with dimpled elbows and Oregon's Abbey Page 2003 Pinot Noir made for a delightful duo. The wine wafted of earth and smoke. Neither passive nor aggressive, but rather a quiet commander of the front seat. There's no calling shotgun for this one. It's just implied. In the end, it stands distinct and doesn't out-beef the beef in the stew.

Spicy mushroom and rice was next, and this soup was loaded with cayenne pepper! This was a palate prickler, and it needed something sturdy with some force.

Enter Abacela Winery's Vintner's Blend #7 from Southern Oregon. This red blend was made from 13 grape varieties and could notably be the paradox of wine. Lucky number seven brings the seven dwarfs, seven seas and seven spacious caverns in Persian mysteries. Then there's 13 - considered lucky by few and widely regarded with open hostility: Friday the 13th, one past the dozen. No. 13 simply takes matters one step too far turning the harmony of 12 into discord. But despite these unfortunate circumstances, this wine has staying power and plunges through the barrage of cayenne with reckless abandon.

Lucky.

Next up, clam chowder! It was rich and creamy with a fusion of dill. Ryan Patrick Vineyards 2004 Rock Islander Red from Washington's Columbia Valley was the bottle of choice. The wine is a calming mixture of black fruit and berry with floating scents of mochachino. But when we tasted it with the clam chowder, the wine sprung to life. It lit up with a glow that flaunted bright fruit and traces of tangerine zest. What started down the middle of the road took a sharp turn right, lowered its sunglasses and headed downtown to grab some afternoon delight.

Next on the list, Popeye's favorite: Cream of Spinach. Why? "Because it's like buttah" and a lot of cream and spinach.

A soup this thick requires burly brawn. The Six Prong 2003 Red Wine from Washington's Columbia Valley is a blend of six varieties that puts the mask in masculine. There are some man-wannabe wines, but this isn't one of them. This is a wine you can chew on; a vigorous combination of wit and stamina with an extra prong or two. At the end of the day, it kicks back in an oversized leather chair and lights up a pipe to find the pleasure of smoking pipe tobacco is dramatically increased when wearing a plush smoking jacket.

And finally, we concluded with a simmering bowl of chicken chili. Low on the spice but definitely better then the average ski resort chili, when paired with the Merlot-based Saviah Cellars 2003 The Jack, Lot 25 from the Walla Walla Valley, it's a balance of tart and charm in the right direction. At first, we felt it was wound a little tight, but it soon revealed a mischievous edge. This is the wine that appears trusting, but be aware of its slippery side. You find yourself confiding deep, dark secrets, which is terribly common when drinking. But you may walk away unsettled, uttering, "I just showed you my underwear and you gave them to someone else. Why does everyone have to see my underwear?"

Cheers!

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