Take a new approach to vinegar for 2003
IF vinegar to you means the cane variety, mixed with a little sugar and added to a Sunday salad, it’s time to get hip and start thinking spicy and subtle. Let’s talk about aromas of vanilla and cinnamon, shall we, and of cider vinegars, that have been aged in the barrel, of golden sherry vinegar from the breezy cellars of Jerez, of jasmine scented rice wine vinegar, from the land of green tea and cherry blossom.
Vinegar is a catalyst, a taste bud teaser, a way of getting gastric juices going. Vinegar not only stimulates the palate but also, say the chemists, makes fried foods more digestible. Victorian housewives bottled it with honey to soothe sore throats and diluted it with water to calm upset stomachs. And in the heat of a Mediterranean summer, people still quench their thirst with a cool draught of well water sharpened with vinegar.
A special vinegar is like a vintage Bordeaux. The manufacturing process is as old as wine making itself.
When exposed to air, fermented liquid will attract the attention of tiny, airborne bacteria. These appear as a veil that spreads over the liquid’s surface, and develop into a gelatinous cluster of cells called ‘the vinegar mother’. By oxidising the alcohol in to acetic acid, mother’s role is to turn good wine into good vinegar, and poor wine into something that will strip the enamel off your teeth. This continues as long as the lady is supplied with food and oxygen. Once it’s ready to be bottled, the vinegar is pasteurised to halt bacterial action.
The balsamics of Modena, the oldest (and dearest) of which contain vinegars that have been circulating through barrels for more than a century, differ from other grape vinegars in that they’re made not with fermented liquor but with cooked mosto, newly pressed, unfermented grape juice. Ageing is by the solera system, as for sherry. Each year’s vinegar is blended into older stocks, which are stored in barrels in warm attics to allow concentration by evaporation. As the blend matures, it’s moved into smaller barrels of five different woods (typically oak, chestnut, cherry, juniper and mulberry), until the mild, fragrant, almost syrupy liquid is judged ready for bottling.
There was a time when aged balsamics were never sold but could only be had, as gifts; a bride’s worth was assessed on how many barrels came with her dowry. The vinegar-makers of Modena recommend their younger brews (the eight-10 year-olds) for salads and in gravies, for grilled meats, while the older vinegars (15-20 years or more) are best with shavings of Parmesan, or as a dressing for gravadlax or tuna carpaccio.
The Oriental grain or rice vinegars serve the same culinary and digestive purpose as their Occidental counterparts, but do it more mildly and sweetly. The black or aged vinegars, of which the most prized is the sharp, salty almost treacly shanxi, are placed on the table as seasonings. White or clear rice vinegars are used in sweet and sour dishes, (particularly with fish), and for dressing rice or noodles salads; for extra fluffy white rice, add a drop or two to the cooking water.
Vinegars have a depth, and complexity, that comes from the base-liquor. As with wine, the difference is in subtlety of flavour, and scent, balance of acidity, clarity and colour. Unlike wine, however, vinegar accepts the character of other flavourings. Just pop your herbs, berries or spices in the bottle and wait a week.
Good vinegar isn’t cheap, but a little goes a long way. It’s as a condiment, a flavour enhancer, that comes into its own. Buy a small flask of your favourite, and use it to add sparkle to your cooking, sprinkle a little sherry vinegar, or balsamic, over toasted cheese, or stir a few drops into a pasta sauce. The most important thing to remember is to treat it with respect, not reverence. For what good is a genie if it’s never let out of the bottle.
Adapted from Elisabeth Luard’s Waitrose Food Vinegar
photographs: Gus Filgate.