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The World Cup (Part One)

Although my children are sleeping like angels, I seem to be getting very little blogging time. My evenings are filled with eating, drinking, washing up, tidying up, watching my wife wash up, and by the time I get upstairs and turn on the computer it’s time to go to bed. All of which is a long-winded way of saying that I’m about to write something that I should have written days ago.

The latest Bibendum bloggers’ evening last Thursday (last Thursday!), then. They’ve previously had us round to drink Italian wine, and Australian, and Champagnes. This, however, was the first round of their World Cup. A spurious concept, this, whereby they pick a few competing nations which make decent wine, pick a few of their wines, and then ask us to judge which is best.

Nothing that we decide should be taken at all seriously. Chile, for example, makes a lot of excellent wine, but we got served an unlovely chardonnay and a downright unpleasant Valdivieso cabernet franc with a combined value of under £19 (the Valdivieso, at £11.26, offers spectacularly bad value for money). It wouldn’t have taken much to beat that, but they happened to be up against an Italian chardonnay/pinot grigio – not mind-blowing, but interesting, integrated – and a mini super Tuscan, Ceppaiano “Violetta”, that was really good. Combined value: just under £29. An unfair fight, and Chile were dumped at the quarter-final stage.

Fighting the Ceppaiano for man-of-the-match awards was the Els Pyreneus, Les Hauts de l’Agly, Cotes du Roussillon Villages, which made up for the outrageous length of its name by being totally ace and, at £10, super duper value. As the Wine Gang said, a “stunning wine of impeccable balance”. With that on their side France could hardly lose, and the USA, with a Loredona pinot grigio proving profoundly, deeply average, had no chance despite a quite impressive Marmesa Syrah (the people whose pinot noir I liked at the Bibendum annual tasting).

In other results, South Africa beat Argentina and the game between Australia and Spain was so close by my scores that I can’t work out who won.

As a competition, Bibendum’s vinous World Cup is hopelessly flawed. As an artificial construct intended entirely to get people in a room together with some glasses and some wines, it was a scorcher.

The Ledbury

Yesterday I went for the first time to the Ledbury, a restaurant in the Notting Hill area and thus miles away from anywhere I ever am or might be. It does, however, have two Michelin stars, an extremely stellar reputation and a quite astonishing arrangement for hosting lunches organised by members of the wine-pages forum, of which this was one.

The theme was South America. I took the most valuable bottle in my little collection, a 2006 Viu Manent Viu 1, from Chile – bought from the Les Caves de Pyrene sale for £17 but worth somewhere around £45. I arrived to see two tables heaving with wine glasses, 10 per man, 90 per table. I handed over the bottle, and sat myself down.

For £50, all in, plus the cost of my wine, I got four courses plus bits and bobs at beginning and end, and a taste of everybody’s wines. The food had to strain against the weight of expectation, but did not fail. An amuse bouche of feather-light beetroot meringues stuck together with a foie gras cream was astonishingly wonderful. There followed roasted scallops with romanesque, garlic and brown shrimps, served with three chardonnays; poached pigeon with black pudding, smoked chocolate and pear – probably the finest pigeon dish I’ve ever had – with a couple of malbecs and my wine, a malbec/cabernet sauvignon blend; sika deer, lightly smoked, with beetroot, bone barrow, malt and oxtail – brilliant – served with three more malbecs, one blended with merlot, cab sauv and cab franc; and a creme brulee with dried apricots and cardamom, served with a noble semillon, also from Viu Manent.

The wines were all quite impressive, though I don’t think the malbecs went terribly well with the food, the wines being streetfighters and the food being artisans. I think my Viu 1 was the best red on our table, in fact, the cabernet sauvignon rounding out the harsh edges. The food, though, was brilliant. The company varied and, like the internet forum that spawned it, extremely generous and welcoming.

It was a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon, a bargain, and I’ll certainly be back for more. And I probably stank worryingly of booze when I picked the kids up from nursery on my way home.

Chateau La Dournie Saint-Chinian 2007

Now, since we last met I’ve discovered cellartracker. This has left my poor blog with a bit of an identity crisis, there now being somewhere better to keep my tasting notes, such as they are. What is it now for? Stuff about wine that isn’t tasting notes, then. Interesting. I’m going to have to do some thinking about this one, at the end of which this blog will, I’d have thought, be either much better for a casual reader, or dead.

In the meantime, tonight I’m drinking a really delicious bargain French red, something though would make whoever puts the Society’s Full French Red together feel a little embarrassed, I’d have thought. Of course most of the country wouldn’t class a £6.99 wine as a bargain, but damn if it isn’t worth it and more. It’s a wine with intelligence, I’d say. Spicy, peppery, mouthwatering, smooth but by no means dull. Bought after a couple of recommendations on the winepages message boards, the first such wine and certainly not the last, I’d wager.

Domäne Wachau The Terraces Grüner ­Veltliner 2008

So this, to the best of my knowledge, is the first Gruner Veltliner I’ve ever drunk. I’ve tended to avoid Austrian wines, because they’re never very cheap and they’re often very floral, but I was wrong wrong wrong. Because this really is delicious, in a very light but utterly delightful way. It’s got a little whiff of petrol to it. It’s got a citrus zing, quite full bodied, just 12% alcohol. Very easy to drink, but not just an easy drinker. As Victoria Moore said of this wine in The Guardian, “it has everything you hope for from a grüner veltliner – clean citrus, tremendous nerve, poise, confidence and enough ­acidity to make it appear bone-dry although it isn’t quite.” “Spicy, peppery and crisp,” said Tim Atkin. “Floral, lemon-zest and white- pepper-spiked,” said Jane MacQuitty.

Quite a lot of people seem to like it, and I’m one of them. A couple of pounds off at Waitrose at the minute, £5.99 and an absolute steal, I’d say.

Budget bottles

Tonight’s I’m trying The Society’s French Full Red, a house wine from the Wine Society. I hoped to discover that the Society’s own wines at budget level represent a marvellous bargain. They spend a lot of time telling me that their own wines represent marvellous bargains. I have been disappointed. It may only have cost a fiver, but it tastes like it cost £4 and wasn’t a particular bargain then either. Proof that it’s worth spending a couple of quid extra.

On which subject, I was out last night merrily spending £7.50 on a single cocktail, and marvelling at the totally different head-budget that operates when you’re out. Anyway, rubbish wine. Not wrong, not broken, not faulty, just not very good.

Bibendum’s massive tastathon

And now, my entry into the most overdue blogpost of the year competition, it being not far off a month since I skipped down to the Saatchi Gallery to Bibendum’s annual trade-and-assorted-hangers-on tasting.

Just as well that, as the small object in the foreground of the picture above proves, I had a notepad (well, they gave it to me when I got there) and a pen, and made good use of both as I went around. I needed something to aid my memory, the sheer scale of the event (not that big, I’m sure, if you’re used to these things, but I’m not) otherwise capable of leaving me bewildered, senseless.

Every room was full of people, bottles, glasses, overflowing spittoons. I had a couple of hours. Where to start? What to do? Drink geographically? Thematically? Give up and go home? Take up smoking again?

My answer, in the end: walk around the entire building, and then drink whatever looks interesting, and that I don’t tend to drink much at home. I started with Rieslings. I tried Kiwis. I tried Australians. I tried Germans. Knappstein won, with their Ackland Vineyard Riesling 2008 – it was crisp, dry, refreshing, tart and tingly. Loser was Dr Loosen’s Wehlener Riesling Kabinett 2007, which lacked the thrilling sherbet zing and replaced it with depressing, puckering sweetness. I’ve read a lot more that I’ve experienced about kabinetts, and won’t be rushing back. The best thing about Dr Loosen is that he was next to Chapel Down, the English producer whose Pinot Blanc 2006 ripped up all my pre and indeed postconceptions about English wine – delicious.

Then, after a spot of lunch, I let rip on the pinot noirs. Kiwis, Aussies, Burgundies, whatever I found, I sipped. And this was won by a Marmesa 2007 from California, which I happened upon while I was supposedly taking a short breather in Tim Hanni’s taste test corner. I have no idea how this grape manages to make either really quite full-bodied wines or really very light-bodied ones, but I like the heavy ones.

And then a bit of freestyling. Some delicious chablis. Some way too young, vicious and aggressive 2007 C9DP (as I believe it’s called by the pros). And then, with time running out, I hotfooted it over to the cognac corner and had myself a half-hour chat with the brilliantly named Bernard Boisson (destined from birth to enter the drinks industry, you’d have thought) of Edmond Audry Cognacs, sipping my way through a selection of his wares culminating in the £128.17 (trade price) Audrey Exception. Awesome. And a great character.

Wine’s not just about the drink, it’s about the people, the place, the experience. I’m immensely grateful to Bibendum’s generosity for letting me in, getting nothing in return except a criminally overdue blogpost on a blog nobody very much even reads. If they’re foolish enough to be so munificent next year, I’ll be back.

Mt Difficulty Pinot Noir 2007

I’ve been living on scraps lately. I have a natural hoarding instinct. When I’m handed a plate of food, I’ll always leave the bits I don’t like, eat the bits I least like first and leave my favourite stuff until last. So it is with wine. I order a case of wine, the bulk of which usually costs a fiver or thereabouts, with a couple of bottles that might cost three times that. But then I drink the cheap stuff and then, finding my wine rack a little bare, order another case of extremely similar composition. So what I end up with is a lot of nice bottles of wine that I don’t really drink.

Today, though, I’ve opened a good ‘un. It’s been a long day, involving work, childcare and, I’ll admit, a little watching of tennis. The kids didn’t nap simultaneously – indeed one of them didn’t nap at all – so there was no pleasant middle-of-the-day downtime. Rachel and I are tired and a little bit ratty, and just had something of a minor falling out after I vetoed America’s Next Top Model, probably her favourite TV programme and almost certainly my least favourite. I know marriage is all about little compromises, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere.

So when I raided the wine cabinet, I was minded to give myself a treat. And I did. This costs a few pence short of £20 at Waitrose, or £15 in one of their occasional and delightful 25% off everything online sales, and is thus one of the most highly-valued wines in my little collection. At last week’s gigantic and excellent Bibendum tasting, which I haven’t written up yet but will soon promise, I conducted by and for myself an impromptu tasting of pinots, taking in Australia, New Zealand, America and Burgundy (and won, quite against my own expectations, by a Californian, the Marmesa Santa Lucia Highlands PN 2007). None of the Kiwi pinots I tasted there was a match for this one. Some can be a little watery, a bit too light-bodied, and while they could still go down very nicely on a summer’s day and after a couple of hours in the fridge, they’re not a match for me, in a mild funk, on a chilly January evening. This, though, looks serious. It is deep, dark, inky, not at all translucent away from the outermost edge. It smells of earth and capsicum compote. It tastes of plums and damsons and cherries and red cabbage. It is a little wild, a little angry. It is the right wine for me right now.

I am happy.

Coincidence

I did not name my daughter after a wine. Honest. But, to judge by what I spotted in Pizza Express just now, someone might have named one after her.

Extremely Poppular Ice Cream Tart

A while ago, the best part of a decade in fact, I read a recipe, by Heston Blumenthal no less, for popping-candy chocolate cake. It looked good. It looked fun. I wanted some. I wanted it all. It lodged itself in my memory and stubbornly refused to budge. A few years later, Heston having by now defected from The Guardian, where he invented recipes for the weekend magazine, to the Times, where he apparently published the same recipes for the weekend magazine hoping that nobody reads both papers and has a long memory, I read it again. It still looked good. It still looked fun. I still wanted some.

Last new year, from nowhere, it sprung back into my mind and this time there was no shaking it. It didn’t happen for New Year’s Eve, but the next good opportunity I got, out it popped. I searched online for the recipe, and found I wasn’t the first to be so inspired. The Chubby Hubby blog cropped up first. They had made the cake, and found it “dense and a little too heavy”. Msmarmitelover, a London-based food blogger, told me via Twitter that she had “found the proportions for the base wrong and the chocolate mousse too intense”. Dammit, the whole thing was crashing around my ears!

At which point, I would simply have replaced his mousse – a genache composed of nothing but chocolate and cream, with a pinch of salt, which sounded a bit much from the start if truth be told – with a lighter version. But, dammit again, at least two of the people coming round for dinner were pregnant, and raw eggs, a staple of the genre, had to be off the menu. And so, out of nothing but a grim determination to have a popping candy based desert come what may, my Extremely Poppular Ice Cream Tart was born. It’s tasty, it’s fun, and it’s only slightly more difficult than scratching your arse. It is my blog’s first recipe, recipes not really being my thing, but I might well want to make it again and I need to know what was in it.

So, let’s just get on with it, shall we?

You will need

A tart tin with a loose bottom. Mine was 12in wide, but you may need a smaller but deeper one to fit in your freezer.

A food processor

A bowl

A space in your freezer big enough for your tart tin to sit flat.

Ingredients

190g dark chocolate-covered digestive biscuits

280g whole blanched almonds, toasted in a dry, non-stick frying pan until golden

A good 150g popping candy, ideally chocolate covered (cheap if you live in America, expensive if you live in England and are a bit desperate (though those Infusions4chefs.co.uk folk do have excellent customer service, if that’s a factor), but definitely covered in something. I wasn’t keen on the colour or flavour of the widely available British versions, hence the chocolate. It looked, for what it’s worth, like this:)

80g butter

2 500ml tubs of your favourite quality chocolate ice cream (Green & Blacks works well, I used Haagen-Dazs Belgian Chocolate)

4 tbsp Amaretto

150g dark chocolate, in chunks

Some toasted flaked almonds for decoration

Instructions

Take 140g of your almonds, put them in the food processor and blitz until they’re in small bits. Add the biscuits and blitz again, until you’ve got fine breadcrumbs. Pour into a bowl. Add the butter, melted, and mix so you’ve got a moist crumb. Then add the popping candy – as much as you like, within reason – and mix in. You may hear a very small amount of popping at this stage, but so long as you add the butter before the popping candy it’ll be fine.

Spoon piles of the base mixture into your tin and, with your fingers, push and prod and poke until it is compacted and solid and covers all the bottom and as much of the sides as you can (I didn’t quite make enough, hence the unprofessional appearance of my sides, but I’ve altered the ingredients so you should be fine). Incidentally, you can get an idea from this what percentage of my base was popping candy – maybe 20% or so. Put in the freezer for a couple of hours at least.

At least a couple of hours later, take your ice cream out of the freezer. Put the rest of your almonds into the food processor and blitz with the Amaretto for several minutes, until smooth. By now your ice cream should have softened, but if not wait until it looks a little oozy and then chuck that in and blitz again, until mixed. Now add the chocolate and blitz briefly until combined.

Take your case out of the freezer, tip in the ice cream mixture, level it off and then stick it back in the freezer, for at least three hours.

When you’re ready, take it out of the freezer five minutes before serving. Scatter some flaked almonds and, if you like, a little bit more popping candy on top. Then serve in slices and wait for the applause. Don’t forget to put your leftovers back in the freezer before they turn into slop.

And that’s it. I should warn you that I asked the team at infusions4chefs before making this whether their crackle crystals could be frozen. That was Friday afternoon. They didn’t reply until Monday, when they said they “would not recommend cooking or freezing them”. By then it was too late, of course. I made the base about 24 hours before serving and they still crackled merrily, but maybe you shouldn’t leave it in the freezer for much longer. I’ll try some more tonight and see if it still pops. Just for research, you understand.

Edit: Wednesday evening, five days after I made the base, and I think it’s now popping at 60% capacity. Maybe even a little more. Still lots of fun. And very tasty.

Tosa, East Finchley

East Finchley is not the kind of place one expects to find a decent restaurant, yet word on the street was that, as of about six months ago, they had a damn fine Japanese joint. Time Out reviewed it, and said it was good. Poking around on the internet, a couple of bloggers (here and here) had been, and were enthusiastic. So when we needed somewhere to go for dinner with friends who also live on the 263 bus route (and another couple who live in Palmers Green, so have to drive everywhere anyway), it seemed an obvious choice. In the end we all drove, so we could just as easily have gone somewhere else. But hell, I’d wanted to go, and here I was.

We’ll make this brief. The room is unwelcoming, the chairs not very comfortable, the service sullen and unreliable (well, our waitress was; another couldn’t stop giggling, and didn’t spend enough time with us for me to work out whether she was reliable or not), and the food – the best part of the experience, then – average. The grill is the thing, here, and the menu features probably 30-odd skewer-based options. There’s sushi, too, and soups and stuff. Bits of our order were forgotten and then arrived, after two reminders, without so much as an apology. Several items were unavailable. Nothing was particularly tasty, and my salmon (£8 for a single fillet) overcooked. If you want grilled meat, you can do a lot better. If you want sushi, you can do a lot better. If one of you wants grilled meat, and the other wants sushi, it’s probably a decent compromise, so long as your standards aren’t very high. At £30 a head, including probably a beer and a half each, on average, it’s not even very good value.

I won’t be back in a hurry. And East Finchley could still do with a decent restaurant.