The Whatever Holiday

Thanksgiving is my favorite American holiday. It’s nonsectarian and apolitical, which makes it utterly democratic. It observes ancient celebrations of the harvest and human bonds of family and friendship, yet it’s not overtly religious or dogmatic.

Best of all, its only ritual is a big communal feast.

Thanksgiving is also a great day to open a fine bottle of wine for people who normally aren’t susceptible to such things. I’ve turned several otherwise unassuming friends into gibbering enophiles that way. Perhaps the greatest triumph was my friend Claudia, who insisted that a good wine was wasted on her because she “couldn’t tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi.”

Perhaps she still can’t, but at least now she can say in all sincerity that she loves Meo-Camuzet Vosne-Romanee “Au Cros-Parantoux” ’90.

There’s something about the heightened atmosphere of easy pleasures at a Thanksgiving table that offers a perfect showcase for wine. If you happen to have any special bottles stashed away in readiness for some magic moment, plan on opening one this week.

What the heck, open two.

The occasion invites tasting and comparison. Even people who don’t normally care about the finer points will find themselves eagerly sipping and comparing, eventually choosing a favorite wine, even a favorite food-wine combination.

Claudia found last year that she preferred the Vosne-Romanee (a rare treasure that I purchased in Lyon, hand-carried home and practically worshiped for several years leading up to the big day) all by itself after dinner, while a brighter, zestier but no less stunning Montille Volnay “Taillepeds” ’93 was wonderful with the noble bird itself.

I’ve always liked Pinot Noir with turkey ‘n’ trimmings, and those were a pair of stellar Pinot Noirs. Would that we could afford such luxury every year. Not that such extravagance is required. The next day, with leftovers, I opened three more fine and somewhat less king’s ransom-like Pinots: Navarro Vineyards “Methode Ancienne” ’95 (Anderson Valley), Joseph Swan Vineyards ’91 (Russian River Valley) and Hippolyte Reverdy ’96 (Sancerre, France). Each was extraordinary.

Tasted together before dinner, they were obviously different, though it wasn’t obvious how or why. It was like meeting three people and trying to form a true impression of their lives. At the table, over the course of a casual feast, the three wines opened up as friends in convivial company. In fact, someone remarked that it was like having extra people at the party. The decanters moved up and down the board, generating and connecting conversations.

Each in its own way--the seamless silk of the Swan, the velvety gentleness and dignity of the Navarro, the elegance of the Reverdy--engaged our senses and played off the foods.

Historians tell us that the Pilgrims at the original Thanksgiving feast, feeble from hunger and terrified by their rescuers, didn’t enjoy the meal all that much. They certainly didn’t have the opportunity to indulge in a comparative tasting of fine Pinot Noirs. They supposedly didn’t have any turkey, either, but I always do. I like that tradition perhaps more than any of the others.

The turkey is a proper North American bird. It has a unique flavor that is amplified by things like sage, garlic, corn bread and wild mushrooms. Most important, the easygoing bird welcomes almost any wine--except, pardonnez-moi, Bordeaux. I’ve never liked Cabernet with turkey. But when my friends ask what they should serve with their Thanksgiving gobbler, I say, “Whatever you feel like drinking.”

Sometimes they think I’m kidding. I’m not kidding. Several times I haven’t been able to decide on a single wine or theme for the feast and have gone intrepidly into my cellar to fetch several dissimilar bottles, red and white, with the express intention of pushing the envelope. And except for the Cabs, I’ve liked them all.

Gewurztraminer has been exceptional on several occasions. With another evening’s leftovers last year (we always plan to have tons of leftovers), a Lazy Creek ’97 (Anderson Valley) and a finer, more minerally Trimbach ’96 (Alsace) were perfect complements to an array of flavors that had little in common but gravy.

Another white wine that met the bird in its element was “Y,” the full-bodied dry Semillon produced by Cha^teau d’Yquem in certain years. Its nutty, honeyed complexity brought out nuances of turkey flavor I hadn’t noticed before. On the basis of that experience, I’m going to try the Clos du Val “Ariadne” ’97 (Semillon and Sauvignon Blanc) this year.

Chardonnay’s redolent appley character is ideal with turkey. This year I’m going to serve two: Murphy-Goode “Island Block” ’97 (Alexander Valley) and Flowers ’96 (Sonoma County).

On the red side, the only way to go wrong is by serving a wine that’s too young and hard to harmonize with the food. That won’t be a problem with the two other great Turkey Reds: Zinfandel and Syrah.

Depending on how many Pilgrims show up, I may open several Zins. The Sky Vineyards ’95 is in fine form at the moment, with a kind of cedary black-pepper high tone that promises to cut through Claudia’s infamous giblet gravy like a laser. So too the luscious yet finely structured Ridge Vineyards “Geyserville” ’92, one of the all-time great California wines.

And of course I’ll have an Auguste Clape Cornas ‘96, a lip-smacking monument to the glory of vin rouge, in reserve should it prove absolutely necessary.

Finally, there are the after-dinner festivities (and I don’t mean doing the dishes). Well, there’s the obligatory pie, but then? Champagne, of course--this year, a dessert-like “Cuvee Gabrielle” ’90 from J. Lassalle.

That should do nicely indeed.