Strange Pairings: Gołąbki & Absinthe

Gołąbki

My homeland is famous for bread, sausage and vodka. But those do not make for a cuisine of world renown.

A signature Polish food is (or more correctly, “are“) Gołąbki (go-WOHMB-kee). It literally means “little pigeons”. A good synopsis of the history of these little cabbage rolls is found here.

This sturdy farm food is both satisfying and very tasty. The variations are mostly in the stuffing but consist of a grain (typically barley, but also rice) and a meat or mushrooms. The sauces are either tomato- or mushroom based. In either case, the cabbage is a prominent component in the dish.

Poland, being considerably to the north of the 45th parallel is not wine country (with a few tiny exceptions). We grew grains and potatoes and found that those make a fine base for distilling liquor. And so, the culture of imbibing is very different. The average family (at least when I was growing up) would not have alcoholic beverages at the dinner table. Vodka is not part of every meal, but a bottle could liven up an evening when company was over, gathered around a nice spread on the coffee table. 50 ml shot glasses are raised in toast every so often – in between bites of cold cuts, bread, bigos, and pickled foods.

It has been said that a nation’s cuisine and beverages evolve together. While much of Poland’s distilleries produce rye and potato vodka (the only way to make it, as far I’m concerned – grapes are for wine and cognac), there is also Starka (an oak-aged liquor resembling whiskey) and malted vodkas like Siwucha or herb-infused vodkas like Żubrówka. In fact, these herbal vodkas go very well with some of the spices used in Polish foods – like the juniper berries in hunter sausage, for instance. They also go with the flavors in gołąbki.

My 80 year old grandmother prepared a few casseroles of gołąbki yesterday. My wife, Irene, licked her chops as they finshed baking while I scratched my head looking for a suitable beverage.

I’ve been on an absinthe kick of late, so I decided to try some Grande Absente (mixed half and half with ice water). Something about the licorice and herb aromas punctuated by a hint of lime and mint as well as a sage-like bitter note suggested itself to the cabbage leaves. Maybe it was that I knew the Argentine cabernet Irene wanted to try would just not work. Neither would any of the white wines in the wine bar – too clean and fruity for cabbage. Pinot grigio is too insipid for gołąbki and would not stand up to the flavors. Anything that had been heavily oaked, I expected, would make me give up in the meal altogether.

The pairing was successful. The herbs in the absinthe resonated with the spices and cabbage in the gołąbki. When I bring the galss of absinthe to my nose, with its delicate, pale honeydow-colored louche, there is a light, fresh sensation that reminds me of a herb garden after a rain. It’s very clean, green and feminine. It makes for a nice synergy of flavors without being overwhelming of distractin. The key is to dilute this 138 proof doozy. This makes it less of a licorice bomb and brings out the herbal nuances.

I also praised myself for skipping the sugar in the absinthe. I suspect that if had I done so, it may not have been as bad as pairing it with the plump cabernet but it may not have been so focused and powerful of a synergy of spices and herbs.

I suspect a retsina, a vin jaune or even a chardonnay that is on the decline (and maybe a tinge oxidized) would do splendidly with these wines. A dry white sparkling wine (cava or cremant) would do as well. I would stay away from reds when pairing this dish. The problem with red wines these days is that they are too rich, sweet and syrupy. If you find one, say a Chinon, that has delicate tannins and a nice vegetal edge, I’d bet it might work too.