When Life Gives You Lemons, Pair Them With Sicilian Whites
Zibibbo, carricante, pasta al limone, and the ancient mystery of pairing citrus and wine.
You probably don’t think very much about lemons. They’re so commonplace as to be an afterthought. It may surprise you then that, throughout history, lemons have been among the world’s most mysterious and enigmatic of foodstuffs. For instance, the lemon is the most painted fruit in Western art. During the Dutch golden age alone, more than half of the still life paintings depicted the yellow citrus. What is it about the lemon that appealed so deeply to those artists? But then that isn’t the lemon’s only mystery. When and where was it first grown? Perhaps 3,000 years ago? Maybe older? Perhaps from northwestern India? Maybe Myanmar? Who really knows?
What we do know (and what is most relevant to this post) is that lemons were brought to Sicily by conquering Muslims in the 9th century, when the island was part of the Byzantine Empire. Within a few centuries, lemons were so plentiful in Sicily that the Bay of Palermo was called the Conca d’Oro, the shell of gold, for the yellow citrus fruits shining along the coast. By the 18th century, after doctors realized that citrus cured scurvy, it was 60 times more profitable to grow lemons that any other crops, including olives and wine grapes. So lucrative was the lemon trade that it gave rise to Sicily’s mafia, who controlled the industry.
So, let’s talk about Sicily, lemons, and wine. One of my favorite dishes is the southern Italian standard pasta al limone—a deceptively simple recipe that calls only for lemon, lots of butter, basil and other fresh herbs, and Parmigiano Reggiano or Pecorino, along with spaghetti or linguine.
Pasta al limone is, of course, something of a wine pairing challenge. As with the tomato (another southern Italian staple) lemon defies easy pairing. Do you match the acidity, with a white like pinot grigio or sauvignon blanc? Do you contrast with sweetness, like an off-dry Riesling, or with a jammy, oaky red?'
Neither, I say. With pasta al limone, it’s an exemplary case of the pairing advice given by many so-called wine educators: “what grows together, goes together.” That means Sicilian white wine for this classic Sicilian dish.
Sicilian whites made from lesser-known (but ancient) grapes—such as grillo, catarratto, caricante, inzolia, and zibibbo (aka moscato d’Alessandria)—have been gaining popularity over the past decade or so. Sicily has become a hotbed for natural winemaking from famed producers such as Frank Cornelissen and Arianna Occhipinti.
Wines from near the volcanic slopes of Mount Etna are some of the most sought-after Italian whites—and despite the popularity, they still offer very good value. Even as they inch above $30, the top Sicilian whites are world-class and can stand beside other prestige white wine regions, often at about half the price.
Dry whites, however, are a relatively recent phenomenon in Sicily. From the late 18th century until the end of the 20th century, grapes here were mainly grown for producing Marsala, the island’s famed fortified wine. But over time, poor quality doomed Marsala’s reputation as a cheap cooking wine.
Enter Marco de Bartoli, who made the revolutionary move in the 1990s to vinify grillo and zibibbo as dry wines. There are now nearly 10,000 hectares of grillo planted in Sicily, up from just under 2,000 at the turn of the 21st century. Catarratto, though, remains the most widely planted grape. I’m also always pleasantly surprised to see my old friend garganega (the main grape of Soave Classico) turn up in Sicily under the local synonym grecanico dorato.
What’s striking about the good Sicilian whites I’ve tasted over the years is that while there’s a common thread—drinkability, freshness, floral notes, lack of oak, an underlying saline element—I find a lot of variety. Part of that is because of Sicily’s diversity of native grapes. But the other factor is that Sicily’s dry wine culture is relatively young—and so it’s not bound by entrenched traditions and rules. In fact, most of the bottles I recommend below are actually made outside of the formal Etna denominazione di origine controllata (DOC), and bottled as the less strict Terre Siciliane Indicazione geografica tipica (IGT).
In that spirit, perhaps Sicilian whites mirror pasta al limone. It’s a bright, sunny, simple-but-tricky recipe with dozens of local variations. (My own recipe is below.) I use butter instead of oil, linguine instead of spaghetti, and I always use the lemon zest as well as the juice. Some people like to experiment with the pepper (white, Aleppo, etc). I’ve seen some misguided attempts that incorporate eggs and cream (I see you committing this heresy, Nigella Lawson). No. I draw the line at eggs and cream. But other than that, the recipe is a more of a suggestion rather than a prescribed list. Make it to your taste.
Do yourself a favor, though, and see how well it pairs with one of these delicious Sicilian whites below.
Seeking Sicilian Whites
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