How to Order Wine in a Restaurant: Pairing Tips, Sommelier Strategies

Our first lesson had covered key grapes and tasting terminology; this one would focus on pairing wine and food and ordering wine in a restaurant. First, we met at my home for a preparatory exercise. I set up small dishes of salt, maple syrup, sliced cheese and green apples alongside two wines: the very dry 2020 Craggy Range Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand and the slightly sweet 2019 Dr. Loosen Erdener Treppchen Kabinett Mosel Riesling from Germany.

English wine merchants have a saying: “Buy on apple, sell on cheese.” The sharp malic acid of green apple will reveal any flaws in a wine, while the soft lactic acid of cheese will smooth rough edges and make a wine more appealing. Sampling the apple and the cheese with each of the wines, Julian found the effects of these pairings subtle. In his estimation, the cheese simply made the wines “better.”

The salt had a more profound effect with the Sauvignon. “It really mellows the acidity,” Julian observed. And he thought the salt made the Riesling “feel less floral.” The syrup, meanwhile, made the Sauvignon’s acidity shrill and flattened the Riesling’s fruit. “They taste like different wines every time you have something else with them,” Julian observed.

The restaurant I chose for the next part of our lesson is one of the few in our home state of New Jersey with a first-rate sommelier. (BYOB restaurants are more the rule here due to archaic liquor laws that limit the number of liquor licenses.) At Faubourg in Montclair, sommelier Philippe Marchal is a seasoned pro and a veteran of the multi-Michelin-starred Daniel in Manhattan. Julian’s parents and my husband joined us.

I explained that Julian would be selecting the wines, so Mr. Marchal handed him the list, explaining that it features wines from three countries: “France, because the restaurant is French. America, because we are in the United States. And Italy, because everyone in New Jersey is very Italian-focused.”

The list was organized primarily by grape: Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Cabernet Sauvignon and two categories of “other interesting varietals,” red and white, as well as sections for sparkling wines and half-bottles. The interesting-varietals sections contained three nations’ worth of good but relatively obscure wines. It wasn’t an easy list to parse for someone only beginning to learn about wine.

“Is it acceptable to ask questions?” Julian wanted to know. It is not only acceptable, I assured him, but wise. He wanted further guidance: “How much of it is him talking, and how much is me talking?”

It’s a give and take, I replied. And while the sommelier is there to help, you still need to think strategically. For instance, as a party of five, we would need to order two bottles.

The first bottle of wine should be the easier of the two—refreshing and enlivening to the palate—and speedily ordered. Diners should have wine in their glasses before the food arrives. “The first wine is usually white or rosé, and usually cheaper than the second wine—unless it’s Champagne,” I said.

As we awaited the return of Mr. Marchal, we had another look at the list. We spotted a $70 Sancerre and a Menetou-Salon for $55. The latter comes from a village in the Loire Valley quite close to Sancerre, and since it is also a Sauvignon Blanc, it is very Sancerre-like. To me it’s an insider’s option: as good as some Sancerres but less expensive. I reminded Julian of our previous lesson, when we discussed the fact that restaurants can charge just about anything for Sancerre and thanks to its recognizable name, people will keep ordering it. In the industry, this is known as “the Sancerre Tax.”

“I think I’d like to start off with a white,” announced Julian when Mr. Marchal returned. Our sommelier did not try to upsell. “I’d suggest the 2019 Jean-Max Roger Morogues Le Petit Clos Menetou-Salon,” he said. “It’s much like Sancerre.” Mr. Marchal provided a more in-depth description of the wine, adding geographic and sensory detail. He also advised Julian that he should always feel comfortable telling a sommelier what he does and does not like.

Happily, we all liked the wine. The second bottle should be a bit more challenging, I told Julian. If the first wine is good, one has to build on that success; if it’s not, the second bottle must overcome disappointment. And the wine must be flexible enough to complement a wide variety of dishes. In this case, everyone at the table had ordered something different, from a meaty pasta to chicken, salmon and shrimp.

I prompted Julian: Maybe a light red would work? “There is no way for me to distinguish or know what I’m looking at,” he said. Mr. Marchal offered a suggestion: a Grenache-dominant 2018 Chateau de Rouanne Vinsobres ($60) from the southern Rhône Valley. “It’s not a big appellation. It has the characteristic of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, but it’s not too powerful,” he said. “I think it will match your food.” “Who am I to differ?” Julian rather cheekily replied. For someone who claimed not to like talking to people he doesn’t know, he seemed to be having a lot of fun.

Mr. Marchal returned with the wine and offered it to Julian to taste. Julian smelled and swirled his glass with impressive ease. “It has a strong smell and a lesser taste,” Julian reported, and he nodded his approval. It was an excellent choice. “What if I didn’t like the wine?” Julian asked. “Are you supposed to say something or let it slide?”

It was a good question. If the wine is flawed—e.g., tastes like wet newspapers or wet dog, which may signal the bottle is corked—it’s perfectly legitimate to ask for a replacement. But if the wine is sound and simply doesn’t suit your palate, you don’t have much of a case for refusing a bottle once it’s opened—though a very sympathetic sommelier might take it back and sell it by the glass. To avoid this, a sommelier should make sure you have a pretty good idea of the wine you’re ordering.

After dinner, Julian turned to his mother. “Why is it I’ve never been to a restaurant with a sommelier before?” he asked. “College tuition,” she replied. Happily, the rewards of a wine education can be shared.

Write to Lettie at wine@wsj.com

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