Rise of the tang dynasty: Food & Drink

Vinegars now rival oils in their diversity. But which to pick? Michael Bateman distils the drops that dress for dinner

WHY DO we make a fuss of Italian balsamic vinegar but ignore English verjuice? This patriotic cry is not just sour grapes - though in fact verjuice is made with sour English grapes, in contrast to the sweet, ripe Trebbiano grapes from which aceto balsamico is made.

Home-produced vert-jus is not made, as you might think, from the juice of green fruit. It is a real vinegar made from wine, albeit from slightly low-grade grapes - and it has a respectable history. Its original use in the 11th century was seasonal, sinc e the only form of storage was leaky leather bottles. In the 12th century, British vineyards fell into disuse when imported wines from Gascony undercut those that could be produced in our poorer climate. We started to use raw apple juice and crabapple jui ce as verjuice instead.

Then, suddenly, we were copying our Ger-man cousins, who used a vinegar made from ale to preserve everything from cabbage (thus sauerkraut), beets and gherkins to walnuts and boiled eggs. We called this "alegar" (and, for a while, "beeregar"), though it

later became known as malt vinegar.

Not content with using it (until recently) for pickling, we have indiscriminately sprinkled this throat-burning brew on fish and chips - though we had the excuse that, until modern times at least, lemons were not widely available.

It is a matter of record that visitors to these shores have been astounded by our excessive use of malt vinegar. An Italian guest to the court of Queen Elizabeth I, Castelverto, observed that all the salads were swimming in vinegar. This comment was echoed 300 years later by Elizabeth David in her famous condemnation of British salads: "What is the object of spending so much money on cucumbers, tomatoes and lettuces because of their valuable vitamins, then drowning them in vinegar?"

Well, at last we are free of the tyranny of malt vinegar, and verjuice and balsamic vinegar are but two of a horde of traditional and novelty vinegars invading the specialist market. It is getting more difficult to choose from the proliferating styles, judging the merits of not only red and white wine vinegars, cider vinegars and rice wine vinegars, but dozens of varieties flavoured with chilli, garlic, herbes de Provence, dill, basil and - one of the most useful, especially with chicken and fish - tarragon.

Then there are the boutique vinegars, done up in pretty glassware with bows, flavoured with berry fruits such as strawberry, blackberry and blackcurrant. Beware those raspberry vinegars that smell like boiled sweets.

Choosing a good wine vinegar requires experience. Take French wine vinegar. You have a choice of delicate Champagne vinegar and rich Bordeaux vinegar, made from appellation controlee wines - and the vinegar of Orleans, the classic, traditional French vinegar, distinctive because it is fermented very slowly in barrels.

One of the most popular kinds with French chefs is sherry vinegar, or xeres. (France imports more sherry vinegar than sherry). While balsamic vinegar is beguilingly sweet, sherry vinegar is outrageously macho, smelling of tobacco, cedar and old sherry casks. It is matured by the same painstaking process used to make sweet, medium and dry sherries.

When you smell a five-year-old, a 10-year-old or even a 50-year-old sherry vinegar, you may snatch a whiff of the wonderful aromas that excite wine connoisseurs. The taste, it's true, hardly matches the promise of the aroma - but the same is true of truffles.

Long cooking destroys the bouquet of sherry vinegar, so it needs to be used either in salad dressings, or at the last moment of cooking, splashed into a soup or casserole before serving. In Spain it is used to deglaze a pan after frying meat, liver, gam e , chicken or even a rich fish such as bonito, bluefish or mackerel.

Sherry vinegar is as different from balsamic vinegar as chalk is from formaggio. It isn't truly a vinegar, since it's not made from soured wine. Balsamico is the juice of very sweet grapes, simmered down to intensify the flavour, stored for years in a progression of casks made of chestnut, cherry, mulberry, ash and oak.

Balsamic vinegar burst on the British food fashion scene a few years ago. It was first made in the Italian town of Modena in the Middle Ages, where it was for centuries used only for local consumption. National demand in the 1940s led to its commercial exploitation.

The result is that today we have an amazing choice of grades of balsamic vinegar. The bog-standard costs around 85p for 35cl, and is balsamic vinegar blended (probably) with other commercial vinegars, caramel colouring and sweetener. At the upper end youcan pay up to £80 for a phial of intense essence - which you might use, like perfume, a drop or two at a time, added at the last moment to a dressing.

Verjuice is half way between a balsamic vinegar and a sherry vinegar. David Carr-Taylor, a winemaker who gave up his job in electrical engineering to grow grapes, makes the only English verjuice at his vineyard near Hastings, and says the fermentation

style gives it the character of a very, very mild sherry. It has a pale brown colour due to oxidisation.

In the 1980s he experimented with an English sparkling wine, a Methode Champenoise, with the help of a friend from Epernay in the heart of Champagne country. In spite of the recession, he manages to produce 800-1,000 cases a year, selling them at the notoutrageous price of £9.50 a bottle. He also makes a well-received English rose from Pinot Noir grapes.

Three years ago Carr-Taylor made his first vert-jus vinegar and was well pleased. "As a winemaker, I don't like vinegar. It neutralises the palate and destroys salad leaves; but vert-jus is very mild, and makes a lovely dressing with olive oil and a little lemon and sugar." Like fruit vinegars it is also interesting as a summer drink, diluted with soda, served with ice.

It is early days to say whether vert-jus will take off, since Carr-Taylor hasn't the funds to mount a marketing exercise. It is not that the jury is still out - most of the jury hasn't even heard the case yet. If you'd like to boast that you were among the first to try it, you can get a bottle from him direct (see below for details).

In northern European countries, the traditional way of cooking with vinegar is "sousing". Smother filleted mackerel, for example, with chopped onions, lay it in a shallow pan, cover with half vinegar, half water, some seasoning, and bake in a medium ovenfor half an hour. Leave the fish to cool in its own juices.

In Spain, the process is altogether more delicate, and oil is combined with vinegar to make the famous escabeche. It originated as a preserving process, a means of conserving fish surplus to what the fisherman could sell. The most frequently encountered form is escabeche de sardinas, floured sardine fillets fried in oil, then covered with a mixture of boiling oil, vinegar and spices, and left to cool. It is chilled for 24 hours before eating, though it can be happily stored for up to a week in the refrigerator.

More expensive fish, cut into steaks or fillets, are used these days in the smarter restaurants: bluefish, bonito and tuna. In the very south of Spain sherry vinegar may be added to the marinade to give great depth of flavour.

In the country in Spain, you may be lucky to find escabeche of partridge. This is a way of utilising older birds. The partridges are halved, browned in oil, then covered with fried onions and cooked in a covered pot for an hour in a mixture of oil and vinegar. Thy are left to cool for 24 hours before reheating, or can be served cold, sliced, with some of the marinade.

The word escabeche originated in Persia, where vinegar, lemon juice and verjuice are used to this day to sharpen the flavour or casseroles and stews. This recipe is a traditional family dish from The Legendary Cuisine of Persia (Lieuse Publications of Henley-on-Thames, £19) by the Glenfiddich award-winning writer Margaret Shaida, an Englishwoman who spent 25 years in the country and learnt to cook from her Iranian mother-in-law. If you do not have verjuice or sour grapes, you can experiment with a smaller amount of cider vinegar or a good wine vinegar.

AUBERGINE STEW Serves 4

1lb/500g boned leg of lamb, fat removed 2lb/1kg aubergines, sliced lengthwise into 14in strips 1lb/500g onions, peeled and sliced 1lb/500g tomatoes, peeled and chopped 1 tablespoon tomato paste 1 teaspoon turmeric salt, freshly-ground pepper 2oz/50g sour grapes, or 4 tablespoons verjuice or cider vinegar, or 2 tablespoons wine vinegar, or 1 tablespoon sherry vinegar or balsamic vinegar 7fl oz/200ml olive oil for frying Cut the lamb into 2in-wide pieces. Soak in water for 20 minutes, then mop dry.

Sprinkle aubergine slices with salt, and leave to drain for 30 minutes to draw out some of the moisture. Mop dry with absorbent paper. Fry in very hot oil (preheated to 350F/180C), in batches, till reddish-brown on both sides. Drain in a sieve over a bowl to catch the excess oil.

Fry the onions briskly till light brown in the remaining oil, adding more if necessary. Stir in the turmeric and seasoning. Add the lamb, and cook together till the meat starts to brown.

Add the tomatoes, tomato paste, grapes (or verjuice or vinegar), and enough water to cover the meat. Bring to simmering point, cover and cook for 30 minutes.

Incorporate the drained aubergine slices into the meat with its sauce, cover and cook for another 30 minutes, or until the meat is tender. Add more water if it starts to dry up.

Serve with plain boiled rice. This succulent, silky, sweet-sour dish is almost better when reheated on the second day.

! David Carr-Taylor's Vert-jus Vinegar costs £1.50 for a 35cl bottle (plus £1.50 p & p each bottle). If you want to share with friends, he will do a case of six, p & p included, for £10. Write to David Carr-Taylor, Westfield, Hastings TN35 4SG (0424 752501). It is also available from Charles Carey, The Oil Merchant (081-740 1319), who sells a range of other top-notch vinegars. Italian vinegars are available from Carluccio's, Neal Street, Covent Garden, London WC2. Most delicatessens carry a wide range of assorted vinegars.