The Rise of Fusion Foods and Wines
by Randal Caparoso

Roy Yamaguchi's Lakanilau Roll

In the early 1990s a well-meaning consumer had the temerity to take some of Hawaii's new fusion chefs to task in the editorial pages of one of Honolulu's daily newspapers.

"Pacific Rim food is over-done," he opined. "Fusion cooking... a ridiculous experiment gone awry... bizarre... complicated... frou frou!"

Although I personally worked with, and encouraged, pretty much the best of Hawaii's fusion chefs, I can't say that I found those comments particularly hurtful. For one thing, it was often true; new Island cooking could be bizarre. Then again, this was the kind of cooking that captured the fancy of Island visitors and locals alike -- not to mention the lion's share of international press - and it would have been foolish for even modestly talented chefs and restaurateurs not to incorporate these new ideas.

It's All Fusion!

The ironic thing, as most food culturists observe, is that there is virtually no cuisine in this world that does not represent some kind of fusion. The Italian cooking that we know today has evolved at an incredible pace since the 19th century, influenced by foodstuffs and techniques borrowed from all over the Mediterranean, and from faraway as China and America. The various cuisines of India, China, Thailand, Vietnam, and throughout Asia grew from cultures of people utilizing everything at their disposal, including all they could absorb from neighboring countries and cultures.

In American shopping malls, sushi, spring rolls, strudel, pizza, pierogi, falafel, rellenos and Polish dogs are sold side by side with nary a blink; and there's a good reason why many of these foodstuffs bear little resemblance to foods of the same name in their original countries: they've been thoroughly melted, or Americanized, into a larger pot. And it is always a matter of time before foods begin to "fuse" into something different, to the point where the untraditional becomes something of an "old" tradition… or so it always seems.

What I found particularly interesting about the occasional criticism of Hawaii's evolving cuisine was the degree of response to similar developments in other parts of the world. When I first visited Australia in 1992, for instance, I expected to find classy wine and maybe some classically defined foods with an Anglo-Aussie bent. Instead, what I found was scores of well trained, disciplined chefs applying a host of East-West, North-South, cross-cultural approaches to an enviable range of meats, seafoods, and produce for a justifiably proud and appreciative populace. And why not? For a country once known for little beyond roast lamb and a black yeast paste called vegemite, dishes like Tasmanian rock oyster in ginger black bean beurre blanc, or wallaby roulade with native warrigal spinach chips, amount to exciting progressions in imagination and regional self-realization.

Modern British Cuisine. Gastronomic Plagiarism?

Poured soup with star anise by Michel Roux

At the same time on the opposite side of the globe, Californian, Asian, and Mediterranean influences came together to form an even more peculiar culinary movement known as Modern British Cuisine. A Decanter magazine once quoted one of its ringleaders, Anthony Worral Thompson, to say, "Most Modern British chefs have trained at a serious French level and gained a good understanding of food, what works together and how it works, and when you've got that you can experiment." Basically, according to Thompson, this movement grew out of a "plundering" of ideas and ingredients—Thai spices, Japanese soy, Irish oysters, Italian Parmesan, French truffles, Old English puddings, Baltic herring, etc.—until it became only "a question of time before 'theirs' becomes 'ours.'" Call it progress, or gastronomic plagiarism—the important thing for Thompson was that it was "great to have an identity and restaurants we can be proud of."

Sound familiar? In disparate places, a building upon different (or indifferent) traditions, bringing new levels of culinary self-respect and resulting commercial success.
So are the world's newly defined "regional" cooking styles half-baked or over-done? I'm not sure if either is possible. While perhaps not as eclectic as Hawaii, virtually the entire North American continent is, after all, a melting pot. Americans have never really needed to "plunder" other traditions; they live and breathe them as we speak. I recently saw a book on Southern Appalachian cooking called Smokehouse Ham, Spoon Bread & Scuppernong Wine that described itself as "a celebration of foodlore handed down from Scotland, England, Ireland, Germany and the Cherokee Nation." If that's not fusion cooking, I don't know what is. Dramatic cultural crossings beyond previously known bounds have been the norm for such a long time, we'd be remiss if we didn't celebrate it!

From the wine perspective, the cultural and commercial ramifications associated with the latest and most visible culinary variations have resulted in two things:

• A stronger need to expand our taste for globally sourced wines to match this growing culinary diversity.
• Gravitation towards wines tailored towards new foods rather than just for power, finesse, regional or varietal definition, big scores, or any other factors.

"Fangled" Foods Require Fangled Grapes

If you've looked at the wine lists in some of today's hipper restaurants, you are already aware of the astounding range of wines now being aggressively merchandised alongside the usual Cabernet Sauvignons and Chardonnays: Teroldego from Trentino, Riesling Halbtrocken from the Saar, Spätburgunder from the Pfalz, Blaufränkisch from Austria and Columbia Valley, Cabernet Franc from Chinon and Bourgueil, Malbec from Cahors and Mendoza, and Grenache, Syrah, Mourvèdre, Roussanne, Marsanne and Viognier from everywhere from McLaren Vale to Edna Valley, Maipo in Chile, Jumilla in Spain, the traditional Rhone and the vast expanse of the Languedoc-Roussillon.

So why are restaurateurs subjecting consumers to such new fangled regions and grapes? It's easier to understand when you know why they're needed: to match new fangled foods. Emerging styles of fusion cooking can be bewilderingly varied—utilizing Thai spices, Japanese seasonings, Chinese vegetables, Italian herbs, and French style sauce reductions, often in one dish! In these contexts, even the most unusual wines become, well, usual.

So here are some observations on such new complications, along with a few remedies:

New fusion cooking is often tilted towards chile spices and other hot sensations resulting from use of peppers, curries, shichimi (Japanese "seven-spice"), wasabi, rayu (spicy sesame oil), sriracha (Vietnamese and Thai chili pastes), kung pao (Chinese chili sauce), and peppercorns. These are often combined with salty, sweet and sour ingredients such as soy, miso, hoisin, lemon grass, pickled ginger, green papaya, coconut milk, oyster sauce, mirin (sweet Japanese rice wine), seaweeds, shrimp pastes (such as bagoong), fish sauces (patis and nuoc mam), as well as fruit and/or palm sugar infused marinades and pronounced shellfish stock reductions.

While not exactly classic matches for red Bordeaux and white Burgundy varietal types, more and more Americans are beginning to appreciate such ingredients as being classical in their own right; and are looking for wines to go with them. Clearly, hot, salty, sweet and sour sensations are more easily assimilated by either slightly sweet, fruity whites balanced by fairly crisp acidity (Riesling or Loire River grown Chenin Blanc), perceptively tart, dry whites (dry style Rieslings and Pinot Gris), or fairly light, lively, soft tannin reds (Pinot Noir, Lemberger, Cabernet Franc, and some Sangioveses and easier styles of Syrah) and pinks with lightly acidic edges (especially vin gris of Pinot Noir, Sangiovese, or multiple varietal blends).

The operative terms are lightness (moderated alcohol), tartness (favoring combinations of higher acid varietals and cold climate vineyards), and fruitiness (especially in lower tannin reds). But it is possible to overemphasize the factors of size, acidity, and even varietal fruitiness. For instance, in spicy hot food settings, Gewurztraminer, Viognier, and Muscat—varietals that are commonly lauded for their "spice" components—can be poor performers because of their propensity towards bitter phenolics and hot tasting alcohol levels, especially when fermented dry. Yet the sweet, spicy fruitiness of even the biggest, thickest Australian Shiraz often works with chili or wasabi laced dishes. In the latter case, when spice components in a high fat/protein meat dish are smartly balanced by sweet, salty and/or sour ingredients, a good sized Shiraz (or even Cabernet Sauvignons laced with Shiraz) can be made to taste even lusher and "sweeter"—always a pleasing surprise!

By the same token, while you would expect light, zesty, sweetly scented Sauvignon Blancs and Pinot Gris to work easily with spicy dishes, they are often too severe in their acidity or neutral in their dryness to make more than an "okay" match; lacking, say, the positively floral, tropical fruit qualities that an off-dry or dry Riesling may bring to a plate.

The same thing with Merlot and even Gamay: although their tannin levels may be low enough, they usually lack the spice and fruit-forward dimensions that make Pinot Noir, Cabernet Franc, and even fairly tannic Zinfandel and Syrah based reds such easy fits with aggressively spiced foods. Fusion food friendly reds are not defined by soft tannin alone.

A light fish creation at The Jackson House Inn & Restaurant

Softer textured white fish and sweet-meaty shellfish of all types set in the context of milder (sans heat) spices, and often tropical fruit, coconut milk, soy sauce, aggressively Asian seasonings (such as kaffir lime, cilantro, Chinese five-spice, mirin, fish sauces, star anise, and licorice basils), slightly bitter vegetables (mesclun, eggplant, Chinese mustards and cabbages, etc.), and even traditional Mediterranean elements (balsamics, oils, tomato, basil, etc.) tend to be diametrically opposed to all but the most crisp and subtle Chardonnay based whites. We have usually found far easier matches in, say, crisp-edged, moderately weighted dry whites such as Pinot Gris (or Pinot Grigio), Albarino, Cortese, Picpoul, Sauvignon Blanc, and of course, Riesling.

To the extent that many fusion style preparations of fish are finished with oils and vinegars rather than butter or cream, even mildly acidic, more densely structured or fuller alcohol white varietals—particularly Pinot Blanc, Tocai Friulano, Gruner Veltliner, Fendant, Marsanne, Roussanne, Grechetto, Viognier, Semillon, and the great variety of blends thereof (Marsanne/Roussanne, Marsanne/Viognier, Chardonnay/Grechetto, Semillon/Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay/Semillon, et al.)—can be quite successful. One of the keys to these matches is moderate use (or else non-use) of oak, which can be frivolous in the context of Asian influenced fish dishes; in which case, pronounced fruitiness and complexity of aroma/flavor (terroir, mineral, floral and spice nuances) can easily accomplish the task of assimilating variant food sensations.

Wild King Salmon at wd-50

The meaty, fleshy qualities of fish such as tuna (especially Hawaiian ahi), salmon, and swordfish in Asian influenced contexts usually make such foods more suitable to lighter, lower tannin reds than to whites. This has led to the presence of many styles of Pinot Noir, Cabernet Franc, Sangiovese, and Syrah on our wine lists; extending out to less familiar yet unique, interesting types such as Tempranillo from Spain, Dolcetto from Piemonte, Zweigelt and Blaufränkisch from Austria, lusher styles of Grenache from Australia and France (such as Gigondas and Vacqueyras), and the occasional old-vine, own-rooted Carignane from South-West France, Spain or California.

While not entirely present in every wine, the key components in most of these red-wine-with-fish matches are rounded tannins, moderate acidity, and pronounced fruit/spice qualities. Imbued with one combination or another, red wines that enter the palate a little more softly tend to carry a much bigger stick in fleshier fusion fish contexts.

The growing and more judicious use of less fatty cuts of beef, lamb, pork, poultry and game in Asian-influenced settings—often involving marinades, braising (toward caramelized sensations), and/or natural stock reductions infused with ingredients like soy, ginger, garlic, star anise, tamarind, scallion, palm sugar, lemon grass, cilantro, curry, coconut milk, tropical fruits, syrups, vinegars, and plum pastes—are particularly apropos with lower tannin or sweetly fruited reds of virtually all types. This would include varietal types such as Pinot Noir, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Tempranillo, Syrah, Grenache, and Sangiovese.

It also leaves room for the great variety of blends that portray rounded, juicy fruit ("suggesting" sweetness without actual residual sugar) as well as exotic spice/pepper/herbal/smoky qualities over sheer power and structure. In fact, not just in the classic Grenache/Syrah/Mourvèdre, Cabernet/Shiraz, Sangiovese/Cabernet Sauvignon (i.e. Tuscany), or Tempranillo/Grenache (Ribera del Duero) blends, but also in some of the more imaginative (even if bewildering) combinations found in contemporary wines. For example:

• Cabernet Franc/Merlot (such as Justin's Paso Robles Justification)
• Sangiovese/Syrah (found in Swanson's Napa Valley Sangiovese)
• Sangiovese/Merlot/Cabernet Sauvignon (Falesco Vitiano in Italy's Umbria)
• Zinfandel/Merlot/Cabernet Sauvignon (Duckhorn's Napa Valley Paraduxx)
• Merlot/Pinot Noir (Sportoletti's Villa Fidelia in Italy's Assisi)
• Malbec/Merlot (Domaine Pineraie in Cahors, France)
• Mourvèdre/Merlot/Tempranillo (Carchelo in Spain)
• Tempranillo/Cabernet Sauvignon (Spain's Abadia Retuerto)
• Cabernet Sauvignon/Gaglioppo (Librandi's Gravello in Italy's Calabria)
• Carmenere/Merlot/Cabernet Sauvignon (Veramonte's Primus in Chile)
• Syrah/Cabernet Franc/Cabernet Sauvignon (Fox Creek's JSM from McLaren Vale)
• Blaufränkisch/Cabernet Sauvignon/Zweigelt/Merlot (Pichler's Arachon Evolution in Austria)

You can, in fact, see these and increasingly more imaginative blends everywhere you go. They exist for good reasons: great commercial appeal, plus rapid expansion of food needs.

The bottom line is that fusion style chefs around the world are cooking up a storm. This style of cuisine is alive and kicking, and a mark of sophistication; and consumers are responding accordingly. We are all just beginning to understand how wines can successfully compliment these new fusions. The possibilities are probably endless, and as varied as our evolving definitions of wine quality and appreciation.

* Chili peppers image from www.chilepepperinstitute.org
* Michel Roux dish image from Michel Roux: New Creative Techniques from a French Master Chef

© Randal Caparoso