While my wife gets to fantasize about a Thanksgiving feast prepared by Thomas Keller (see Marguerite’s 11/18 blog), I’m the one left to schlep the actual wine to the actual meal every year. And as she notes, Thanksgiving in this family is always somewhat chaotic. The get-together alternates between a big country house in McLean, Virginia, and an equally large suburban one in Montclair, New Jersey; but regardless of locale, it usually includes 30 or more people representing
three generations. Not everyone is a wine drinker, and I suspect that the glass or two that some people have that day may be just about the only ones they’ll have all year. But there are some others who, if not collectors or connoisseurs, are fairly avid enthusiasts, and so are eager to try what Marguerite and I, the family’s alleged “experts,” bring. The bottom line, then, is that this is a tough crowd to please when it comes to wine.
Because this family has old New England roots, no one would dare even think about eating anything other than the most traditional sort of Thanksgiving fare. No wild rice risotto with Maine lobster, or turkey leg confit with corn pudding, ala Marguerite’s fantasy. No, we’ll have the whole bird (or given the size of the crowd, probably two), with old-fashioned stuffing (probably Pepperidge Farm), green beans, creamed onions, both cranberry sauce and cranberry jelly, and of course sweet potatoes (yes, those little marshmallows do show up). It’s all very Joy of Cooking and Yankee. And the only rule I have when choosing which wines to bring is that they should be American. It just seems right.
So what am I going to bring this year? Well, a fairly large assortment, 
both reds and whites, but representing only a few varietals or types so that no one will get upset about missing anything. For the whites, it’ll be Washington State Riesling and Oregon Pinot Gris; for the reds, California and Oregon Pinot Noir. (In a perfect world, I might want Finger Lakes Riesling and Virginia Viognier, but those wines are difficult to find in Baltimore where I live; and remember, this non-fantasy meal never aims for perfection.)
Why these particular choices? Riesling because, even when vinified dry, its inherent fruitiness should help it appeal to both novice and experienced drinkers. And the renditions from Washington State tend to have enough body or heft not to be overpowered by what we’ll eat. I’ll bring Pinot Gris from all three Pacific states because I think this category is extremely undervalued. The wines tend to have an inherently autumnal character, their fruit flavors echoing apples and especially pears, so they should be great partners for this late November meal. And Pinot Noir? Well, I’ll have to be careful, as far too many American Pinots these days taste hot and heavy, the antithesis of what this varietal classically should be. But when made in a legitimately light, lithe, and silky style, no other American red wine has the versatility to survive the Thanksgiving onslaught.
I’ll be packing a bunch of different examples of Pinot Noir, Pinot Gris,
and Riesling in the trunk of the car come Thursday morning. After all, I hear that we’re expecting close to 40 people this year! If, however, we were having a smaller, quieter, less chaotic (but I have to admit, probably less fun) celebration, and I had to bring just one bottle of each, here’s what I’d choose–based on wines I’ve tasted this fall: Seven Hills, Columbia Valley (Washington) Riesling 2008 ($14), Ponzi, Willamette Valley (Oregon) Pinot Gris 2007 ($18), and Saintsbury, Carneros (California) Pinot Noir “Garnet” 2008 ($21). All three are fine wines with which to lift a glass in toast and thanks.
4