Thursday, May 24, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
It's been a bit quiet of late. Bodil is on some military course out in the archipelago (don't ask), and I'm alone with the kids for yet another week. Missed out on a visit to Odessa, but I'm now going to Warsaw. Working on "Where's My Teddy", and we are starting to get excited (see right). It could be loads of fun and make money, or loads of fun and a total financial disaster. We'll see. Daytime punctuated by Sammy having a massive nosebleed after colliding with Alice on the trampoline. Haven't seen that much blood come out of anyone in ages. The garden looks like the scene of a particularly brutal boxing match.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Vespa or Lambretta?
Stayed up way too late yesterday watching Quadrophenia, even if today was a bank holiday in Sweden (I now have an insatiable itch to buy a moped, plus Parka and a tailored Italian Suit). By 7.30 this morning I'm already up and about waiting for the neighbour to knock on the door, signalling the start of our 5K run. I feel surprisingly perky to say I finished off a bottle of wine by myself only a few hours earlier. At 8.30 I run to the bank to pay off the builder who has re-built a wall for us and at 9.00 I drive Samuel to football and watch his team crush the opposition 2-0 (a fact about which I get absurdly excited, hopping about on the touch line like it's made of hot coals). By 10.00 I'm home and I feel like I've already done a full day's work. But no. It's off into the garden my son to digg up the patio. What joys! This takes the best part of the day, give or take the snooze I squeeze in after lunch. I'm now feeling physically wrecked and tired, with the back of a 90-year old. If it wasn't for the Alsace Riesling currently lubricating my inner parts, I'd be as stiff as a board.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Hysterical Hypochondriacalisms
Not a great start to the day. The NHS Direct self-diagnostic website results prove my worst fears - that the bout of fever I had two days ago can be nothing less than - wait for it - life-threatening blood poisoning! Bodil looks on incredulous as I explain my latest medical findings. Wisely she decides to leave me to my own hysteria to do some gardening. Undeterred I make the dash across town to the emergency ward, where I am seen by a nurse and treated with what can only be described as disdain. It is not, would you believe, blood poisoning. I am in fact nothing short of 100% fit. My fever was merely a normal reaction to coming off the penicillin I've been taking for my infected wisdom tooth. I return home feeling both ridiculous and relieved at the same time. Bodil gives me a "there there" pat on the head, and puts me to work planting grass in the garden. In the afternoon Alice has a friend over to play. Normality is finally restored in the evening, when we play the Mr Men version of Snakes and Ladders, and I lose.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Turning Japanese
Today we paid a small fortune to do little more than fall asleep in style. But I have to say it was worth it. A day out at yasuragi while the kids are away with friends. Bodil and I get about a week's worth of rest in a single day. Fabulous. And I learn how to bath Japanese style whilst sitting down too. Hot tubs outside in the April sunshine, and a fifty minute massage put me to sleep for most of the day. Bit freaky though being in a place where everyone has the same togs - felt a bit like a mix between a wealthy retirement home and a mystic cult. Maybe if we'd stayed a bit longer we would have been invited to a mass wedding. Who knows?
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
The Yogurt Incident
Alice has a breakdown in the shop over yogurt. I'm forced to temporarily abandon my after work shopping expedition to carry a screaming child outside, past what feels like hundreds of disapproving eyes. Back at the car Alice is inconsolable, and very angry. It takes more than half an hour before we're friends again. The lack of newly foraged food causes us to raid what is a very bare freezer. It's only my second day and Alice is clearly winning 2-0. I consider it a small victory however that I didn't give in and buy the yogurt which I know she never eats, even at the price of having to eat an old frozen sausage with macaroni. But its exhausting. I've just spent two hours tiding the house and picking up a smashed plate covered in ketchup which splashed up the walls (thanks Alice). Tired? Right now I could lay some zeds for Britain.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Flat Pack Houses
Monday. It's a Bank Holiday so a nice, easy start to the day. Drop Bodil off at Arlanda Express for her trip to Vietnam. Meet up with P and family for a look around HusExpo, where I promptly loose Alice in the maze of houses (at this point Bodil has been away for all of 2 hours!). Not a great start to my "flying solo" week with the kids. Manage to find a flat-pack house I like though called x-house. The blurb says that, "if you can build Lego, you can build this". I'm expecting to sit back and watch Sammy do the work. Hopefully though we'll get something like this to replace the country house, which is feeling increasingly small as the kids get bigger. Watch Prime Suspect on TV and read up on Russia and Belarus for my trip next week.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Easter Witch
A relaxing Easter break for the Family Taylor down at the country house. Alice dressed up as a "påskkärring" (Easter Witch) and went around the neighbours houses with Sammy leaving picture cards and collecting candy. Manage a few 5K runs in the woods to burn off a little fat. Fit a new hand pump in the pub that was recently donated by the Embassy bar (pity there's no beer barrel as yet on the other end though). I'm thinking about doing a huge brew for the summer to keep us all in real ale during the dry months July and August. We'll see. Anyone got a spare beer barrel?
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Super Tuscans
28 March 2007
Ordinarily Systembolaget isn't up to much, but it can at least organise a decent wine tasting. Last Wednesday was my first visit to one of their regular shindigs, and I have to say I was impressed. The theme was none other than Super Tuscans - which i thought would be perfect preparation for the family Taylor trip to Italy in June. I wasn't disappointed.
Our host was a fairly young and extremely competent dude, who introduced his subject with an ease that spoke volumes about his experience of tasting Italian wines. We were to taste two flights of wine, all blind, and all classified as Super Tuscans. We began with three wines from the same producer. Always one to put my foot in it, I began by proclaiming that the third of these had a more pronounced Sangiovese nose than the previous two - only to find to my shame that it had in fact the least amount of this grape varietal of the entire flight. Oh hum! I guess Stephen Spurrier's place at Decanter isn't under threat just yet... But this revelation threw me into a conundrum. I'd said this about Sangiovese because the third wine had the most "Italian nose" of the three (this at least all of us were in agreement with), but if it wasn't the Sangiovese that was doing that, what was it? It can't have been the grapes (which were more Bordeaux in style than Italian), so what was it then? Frustratingly, the answer is still out there somewhere, but I for one have no idea where it is...
The second flight upped the ante a little, and turned out to be a tour de force of some of the best Italian wines around. Despite this, I came away a little confused by some of these. The best weren't in the class of some of the better Bordeaux wines I have tasted at home - despite being in some cases about five times the price! So in that sense I was a little put off. Then again I did come away with more of a feel about what new Italian wine is all about. Not all of it was to my taste (or wallet!), but it was definitely an enjoyable experience. Check out the wines below. Oh, and if you get the chance, book yourself on one of Systembolaget's upcoming events before it's too late. Cheers!
First Flight (all from Mazzei)
Bronzone 2004. 100% Sangiovese. Dark cherry red; roasted, fruity vanilla nose; warm in the mouth with a good level of acidity, toasted oak and vanilla, fruity with good length; pretty good! 7.5
Serrata 2004. 65% Sangiovese, 30% Cabernet Sauvignon, 5% Merlot; Dark cherry red; a more roasted nose than the Bronzone; taste smoother and more rounded, less vanilla, more berries; good to very good! 8.0
Belgvardo 2003. 70% Cabernet Sauvignon, 20% Sangiovese, 10% Merlot; same dark cherry red; a very "Italian" nose (but clearly not related to the Sangiovese element!); rough tannins (needs more time?), shorter on length and less balanced with lower acidity; good; 7.0 (but most expensive of the three!)
Second Flight
Gaja Ca' Marcanda Magari 2003. 50% Merlot, 25% Cabernet Sauvignon, 25% Cabernet Franc. Medium dark red; very big, perfumy nose, flowery rather than elegant; nice and rounded taste, fruity, light and balanced acidity; easy, good drinking! 8.5 (Others in the group called this "too nice" and "characterless" - they were wrong, but worth the asking price? No way!)
Le Stanze del Poliziano 2003. 10% Sangiovese, 70% Cabernet Sauvignon, 20% Merlot; Dark cherry red; slightly sharp and greenish nose (still too young?); still fairly tough tannins, long legs, Pretty good but needs time? 8.0 http://www.carlettipoliziano.com/
Antinori Solaia 2000. 75% Cabernet Sauvignon, 20% Sangiovese, 5% Cabernet Franc. Dark cherry red; pungent and fairly flat nose; nice and rounded taste, smooth, noticeably "old" taste, woody; very good. 8.5 http://www.antinori.it/ Wine of the night, but only just.
Le Macchiole Messorio. 100% Merlot. Brickish red with lots of debris (high sediment, almost soup!); burned, spicy, peppery nose, complex and rich, but too "brown"; not as exciting a taste as it should be, fairly flat and tired; this one was not for me! Supposedly one of the most Petrus like wines in Italy, and not far off in price either! 100 GBP a bottle and upwards. 7.0 http://www.lemacchiole.it/
Ordinarily Systembolaget isn't up to much, but it can at least organise a decent wine tasting. Last Wednesday was my first visit to one of their regular shindigs, and I have to say I was impressed. The theme was none other than Super Tuscans - which i thought would be perfect preparation for the family Taylor trip to Italy in June. I wasn't disappointed.
Our host was a fairly young and extremely competent dude, who introduced his subject with an ease that spoke volumes about his experience of tasting Italian wines. We were to taste two flights of wine, all blind, and all classified as Super Tuscans. We began with three wines from the same producer. Always one to put my foot in it, I began by proclaiming that the third of these had a more pronounced Sangiovese nose than the previous two - only to find to my shame that it had in fact the least amount of this grape varietal of the entire flight. Oh hum! I guess Stephen Spurrier's place at Decanter isn't under threat just yet... But this revelation threw me into a conundrum. I'd said this about Sangiovese because the third wine had the most "Italian nose" of the three (this at least all of us were in agreement with), but if it wasn't the Sangiovese that was doing that, what was it? It can't have been the grapes (which were more Bordeaux in style than Italian), so what was it then? Frustratingly, the answer is still out there somewhere, but I for one have no idea where it is...
The second flight upped the ante a little, and turned out to be a tour de force of some of the best Italian wines around. Despite this, I came away a little confused by some of these. The best weren't in the class of some of the better Bordeaux wines I have tasted at home - despite being in some cases about five times the price! So in that sense I was a little put off. Then again I did come away with more of a feel about what new Italian wine is all about. Not all of it was to my taste (or wallet!), but it was definitely an enjoyable experience. Check out the wines below. Oh, and if you get the chance, book yourself on one of Systembolaget's upcoming events before it's too late. Cheers!
First Flight (all from Mazzei)Bronzone 2004. 100% Sangiovese. Dark cherry red; roasted, fruity vanilla nose; warm in the mouth with a good level of acidity, toasted oak and vanilla, fruity with good length; pretty good! 7.5
Serrata 2004. 65% Sangiovese, 30% Cabernet Sauvignon, 5% Merlot; Dark cherry red; a more roasted nose than the Bronzone; taste smoother and more rounded, less vanilla, more berries; good to very good! 8.0
Belgvardo 2003. 70% Cabernet Sauvignon, 20% Sangiovese, 10% Merlot; same dark cherry red; a very "Italian" nose (but clearly not related to the Sangiovese element!); rough tannins (needs more time?), shorter on length and less balanced with lower acidity; good; 7.0 (but most expensive of the three!)
Second Flight
Gaja Ca' Marcanda Magari 2003. 50% Merlot, 25% Cabernet Sauvignon, 25% Cabernet Franc. Medium dark red; very big, perfumy nose, flowery rather than elegant; nice and rounded taste, fruity, light and balanced acidity; easy, good drinking! 8.5 (Others in the group called this "too nice" and "characterless" - they were wrong, but worth the asking price? No way!)
Le Stanze del Poliziano 2003. 10% Sangiovese, 70% Cabernet Sauvignon, 20% Merlot; Dark cherry red; slightly sharp and greenish nose (still too young?); still fairly tough tannins, long legs, Pretty good but needs time? 8.0 http://www.carlettipoliziano.com/
Antinori Solaia 2000. 75% Cabernet Sauvignon, 20% Sangiovese, 5% Cabernet Franc. Dark cherry red; pungent and fairly flat nose; nice and rounded taste, smooth, noticeably "old" taste, woody; very good. 8.5 http://www.antinori.it/ Wine of the night, but only just.
Le Macchiole Messorio. 100% Merlot. Brickish red with lots of debris (high sediment, almost soup!); burned, spicy, peppery nose, complex and rich, but too "brown"; not as exciting a taste as it should be, fairly flat and tired; this one was not for me! Supposedly one of the most Petrus like wines in Italy, and not far off in price either! 100 GBP a bottle and upwards. 7.0 http://www.lemacchiole.it/
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Album of the Month: March 2007
Monotony is Underrated
I was once discussing music with my old Kiwi pal Johnny Bitburger in some nondescript “piano bar” in London. We were on the subject of electronica. As a graduate of Classical Music, Johnny was passionate about the role of monotony. It was, he thought, an underrated skill. It takes a good musician to master the form, building multiple layers of music with small shifts of focus on a sparse canvass. Most fail badly, ending up with something which is simply dull and tedious; other’s try and put too much into it, ending up with a wall of ear-aching cacophony (most trance I’ve heard would fall into one of these categories). But done well and monotony can be a mesmerising, almost transcendental musical experience. And this is exactly where the latest Swedish electronica hotshots Studio sit. Even at an early age, they have mastered the art of restraint and monotony to perfection.
A lot of the sound of Studio’s debut album Yearbook 1 reminds me of Happy Monday’s remix land - a great “baggy” sound that goes round and round in wonderfully sustaining loops and beats. There’s a good dash of Balearic in here too (references to “Solid Good Times” and “Beach Life” abound), and some bass lines shamelessly nicked from Peter Hook. Throw in a little reggae guitar, some retro VIC-20/A-Ha synth effects, and some (yet again) Duran Duran moments (what is it with that just now?) and you’ll get the general idea. The lead-singer (if you can call him that – he only shows up for two out of the ten tracks) has the same intonation as Shaun Ryder, but without the edge of menace. All the tracks have short, abstract titles, and in general last for anything between five to fifteen minutes. It’s the kind of music that I want to play at my (wholly imaginary) pool party this summer late at night. Apparently these songs have been around for a while on various limited edition 12 inches, which, of course, haven't even remotely registered on my aging radar. However they’ve now put a whole year's releases onto a CD album thingy for old fogeys like me and you to enjoy. If you liked the old "Madchester" scene – and I did – then you should get a copy of Studio's album immediately. If you do you’ll have what must be one of the year’s albums on your hands already – and it’s only March (well, almost)! 8/10
I was once discussing music with my old Kiwi pal Johnny Bitburger in some nondescript “piano bar” in London. We were on the subject of electronica. As a graduate of Classical Music, Johnny was passionate about the role of monotony. It was, he thought, an underrated skill. It takes a good musician to master the form, building multiple layers of music with small shifts of focus on a sparse canvass. Most fail badly, ending up with something which is simply dull and tedious; other’s try and put too much into it, ending up with a wall of ear-aching cacophony (most trance I’ve heard would fall into one of these categories). But done well and monotony can be a mesmerising, almost transcendental musical experience. And this is exactly where the latest Swedish electronica hotshots Studio sit. Even at an early age, they have mastered the art of restraint and monotony to perfection.
A lot of the sound of Studio’s debut album Yearbook 1 reminds me of Happy Monday’s remix land - a great “baggy” sound that goes round and round in wonderfully sustaining loops and beats. There’s a good dash of Balearic in here too (references to “Solid Good Times” and “Beach Life” abound), and some bass lines shamelessly nicked from Peter Hook. Throw in a little reggae guitar, some retro VIC-20/A-Ha synth effects, and some (yet again) Duran Duran moments (what is it with that just now?) and you’ll get the general idea. The lead-singer (if you can call him that – he only shows up for two out of the ten tracks) has the same intonation as Shaun Ryder, but without the edge of menace. All the tracks have short, abstract titles, and in general last for anything between five to fifteen minutes. It’s the kind of music that I want to play at my (wholly imaginary) pool party this summer late at night. Apparently these songs have been around for a while on various limited edition 12 inches, which, of course, haven't even remotely registered on my aging radar. However they’ve now put a whole year's releases onto a CD album thingy for old fogeys like me and you to enjoy. If you liked the old "Madchester" scene – and I did – then you should get a copy of Studio's album immediately. If you do you’ll have what must be one of the year’s albums on your hands already – and it’s only March (well, almost)! 8/10
Recommended Wine: Yearbook 1 is definitely late-night, Mediterranean beach style summer music. Music this cool needs a cool wine to go with it, so I'm going for a fruity and fun number, in this case a California McManis Viognier from 2005.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Puking, Puking and More Puking
Sunday. I’m sure that, in a few weeks time, this will all be very comical. But right now it’s a disaster. Just as I’m about to board the last flight of the day to Heathrow, Bodil calls. She’s puking. Alice is puking too. As for Samuel it’s surely only a matter of time. This is the third time running that my flying somewhere has sparked a mass outbreak of multiple throwing-up at home. What is going on? I was sorely tempted to turn around at the gate when I get Bodil’s message, but she tells me to go on. Hope they’ll make it through tomorrow without too much hassle. Sunday morning at least was better. Scored a shed load of goals at football (the other team were only three men though). Good food left over from last night for lunch. Acke was playing well with Samuel, and the two of them with Alice spent most of the day building Lego and fighting over who had control of R2D2. We spent the afternoon on the local toboggan run. The calm before the storm.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Table Dusting
Saturday. Manage to squeeze in an argument with Bodil before half-ten about soft boiled eggs. I want the family to wait for me while I cook them before they dig in to breakfast (for this I am labelled a fascist). The kids ignore me and eat anyway. I eat alone. The clouds of doom and my sulk soon lift however and we’re back on track. I order a digital piano online to replace the already defunct heavy acoustic version in the basement, then we’re all off to Lidingö centrum. The library is (as usual) full of brand new CDs for me to hoard and take home and load into iTunes (today’s catch is “Those the Brokes” by The Magic Numbers, which is on a first listen pretty damn good). Back home, it feels like as soon as Samuel’s friend Gustav disappears home, the next friend (this time Acke) arrives. Another sleepover. But it’s all in the name of fun. Ponder whether to buy tickets to Joanna Newsom in April. Probably will. Manage a 5K run in minus three on snowy roads, but it fills the lungs and gives me a much needed energy kick. Good dinner (the Colonel’s Paprikas no less), with a fair but simple bottle of Georges Duboeuf's Beaujolais-Villages 2005. Watch an Atom Egoyan film when the kid’s are asleep called Where the Truth Lies, which is total rubbish. I’ve seen a few films by Egoyan and I’ve reached the conclusion that the guy simply cannot tell a story. There’s so much "table dusting" going on in the beginning of the film that it makes me want to heave. Nice pictures sure, but where’s the entertainment?
Saturday, February 24, 2007
A little something for the weekend
Friday. Having worked my socks off on Thursday, I decided to recharge the batteries and take the afternoon off. This turned out to be a very wise move. I stopped by my favourite record shop in Stockholm (Skivfönstret) to have a chat with Jens, who talked me into buying no less than three new CDS, all of which turned out to be brilliant. Picked up Samuel early to take him to his tennis lesson - great to see him getting on and enjoying himself, but next Björn Borg? - probably not. Home early to cook up a feast. Things start to look good, so I raid my cellar for one of my better bottles. What a way to end the day! I fall asleep listening to the warm, lush sounds of Midlake, which is extraordinary stuff (you need to work on those lyrics though guys - big yawn).
And the wine? This was a Clos Du Marquis 1996, Saint-Julien (find this wine), the second wine of Ch. Léoville-Las Cases (2nd Growth), which is (apparently) one of the best buys going in Bordeaux. Deep warm red in colour with a magnificent nose of violets, smoke and lashings of berry fruits. Hints of vanilla and tobacco (although Bodil disagreed about the second of these). The taste of the wine is superb, balanced, warm and rounded, and fills the palate. The fruit lasts for ages and the spicy notes give it excellent legs. A truly exciting experience! 9/10. Get a bottle and try fit or yourself - you will not be disappointed!
And the wine? This was a Clos Du Marquis 1996, Saint-Julien (find this wine), the second wine of Ch. Léoville-Las Cases (2nd Growth), which is (apparently) one of the best buys going in Bordeaux. Deep warm red in colour with a magnificent nose of violets, smoke and lashings of berry fruits. Hints of vanilla and tobacco (although Bodil disagreed about the second of these). The taste of the wine is superb, balanced, warm and rounded, and fills the palate. The fruit lasts for ages and the spicy notes give it excellent legs. A truly exciting experience! 9/10. Get a bottle and try fit or yourself - you will not be disappointed!
Friday, February 23, 2007
Blue Screens and Marmalade
Thursday. Work is hell on earth. Don’t finish even when I get home. Scare the kids with my shouting at a blue screen on my computer when it eats all my work. The kind of day you wish you’d never bothered even getting out of bed for.
Wednesday. Spend the evening working up the Where’s My Teddy business proposal, which is getting there, albeit slowly. We’re almost at the point of booking a designer for the website. Could get a little more exciting from here on in.
Tuesday. What did I do today? The truth is I’ve absolutely no idea. Lesson? Write this blog every day. My goldfish memory simply cannot go back more than a few days and Tuesday has now lost to the tangy marmalade that is my subconscious.
Wednesday. Spend the evening working up the Where’s My Teddy business proposal, which is getting there, albeit slowly. We’re almost at the point of booking a designer for the website. Could get a little more exciting from here on in.
Tuesday. What did I do today? The truth is I’ve absolutely no idea. Lesson? Write this blog every day. My goldfish memory simply cannot go back more than a few days and Tuesday has now lost to the tangy marmalade that is my subconscious.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
B-Boy's Rap the Pape
Book Review - Alexis Lichine's Guide to the Wines & Vineyards of France (1979)
This is where it all started. I was having coffee at one of my absolute favourite bookshops (Scarthin Books, Cromford) a couple of years ago, when I spotted the Food and Drink section. Now, before I went over for what would become a fateful gander, I have to admit that I was like most other aspiring middle-class types. I thought I knew a little bit about wine. Like the fact that I generally preferred red over white, and that I enjoyed a bottle of Cavas from time to time to add a little sparkle. I also had a unfounded belief that French wine was probably better than new world stuff, and that because the Beastie Boys had once rapped about Châteauneuf-du-Pape, then that was probably something to aspire to. When at a supermarket, and presented with a million different labels and lands to choose from, I would rub my chin, check a couple of labels, pick up a couple of bottles to weigh them (why?), and then plump for something entirely at random based on the way the label appealed to me. It was, of course, total bollocks. I knew next to nothing about wine. Nor did I have any books about it (unless you want to count a single unread copy of Oz Clark's 1997 opus, Sainsburys' Pocket Wine Guide in this category). I did however have a few cookery books to my name (an unopened and expensive River Cafe picturebook, a well-thumbed traditional Thai book, a couple of Italian jobs, etc). With a bit of help from these books I could (and still am) able to throw the occasional decent bit of chow together. So I was in the mood to complement my foodie library with a drinks library, and at the same time try to fill in that black hole in my brain labelled "wine knowledge". Little did I know that my (typically) random choice on the subject - Alexis Lichine's Wines and Vineyards of France - would turn out to be one of the seminal books on the subject of appreciating and learning about wine. This is where it started.
Alexis Lichine seems to have lived one of those lives the rest of us can only dream about. Born in 1913 in Moscow, his family fled the revolution, moving first to France and then to the US, where they settled in 1934. Returning to Paris after completing his studies at the University of Pennsylvania, he took a job at the Herald Tribune where he was given an assignment to write about French Wine. After travelling around France's major wine regions, he returned to New York in 1935 and took up a job selling wine: a tough job given that the general level of wine knowledge in the US before the second world war was close to absolute zero. The onset of war saw Alexis turn his attention to Californian wine, where he helped to root out the practice of calling US wines after their French counterparts (at that point you could still buy a "Chablis" or a "Burgundy" wine from US winemakers). After Pearl Harbour Alexis joined Military Intelligence, which in essence meant supplying "liberated" fine clarets for the likes of Eisenhower, Patton and Churchill. After the war, he ended up with Churchill again, this time at the Hotel De Paris in Monte Carlo, where they shared a few choice bottles. After listening to a rambling discourse by Churchill on the subject of wine, Alexis had the nerve to correct him on a few points. After that Churchill said, "boy, from now on you do the talking and I'll do the listening". After the war, Alexis set up a shipping company in Bordeaux. Over time Alexis became one of the prime movers within the French wine world. He not only helped to establish the practice of bottling wines at the estate rather than after shipping (as was common in the UK market), but also became a respected grower in his own right with the purchases of Château Lascombes and Cantenac-Prieuré (soon to become Prieuré-Lichine). Lichine himself however was cagey about his own biography, preferring instead to let the wine do the talking. And that's what this book does in spades.
OK, so it was published in 1979, so it's going to be a little out of date (I doubt for instance if the hotels listed here still have the same telephone numbers). Do not let this put you off. This book is much more than just a casual glance around some of the wine growing regions of France. It is the wine lover's bible. It is packed full of quotes, anecdotes, asides, and real insights into the art of wine and wine-making which are timeless. Amongst other things we learn that in 1395, Philip the Bold banned the grape he called the "disloyal Gaamez", as it produced wine in great abundance but which had a, "very great and horrible harshness"; and that Alexandre Dumas said that Montrachet should be, "drunk on one's knees with one's hat in hand". Lichine says some very sensible things that would put some modern wine-tasters to shame too (referring to Chablis, he takes the description of a "flinty taste" to be metaphorical, for the simple reason that he has "never tasted flint"). We also learn that the Beastie Boys' favourite beverage ("New Castle of the Pope") can be made from no less than thirteen different grape varieties - a fact that could provide a lifetime's work for a ampelographer (you'll have to look that one up now, won't you?). Lichine powers through the great wines of Bordeaux, Burgundy, Côtes Du Rhône, Loire and Alsace with considerable intelligence and authority, and much of the writing here has stood the test of time. But given the changes in Southern France since 1979, the section of Languedoc and Roussillon is looking a little dated. The book ends with a great section on food and wine ("never serve Bordeaux and Burgundy together"), and the pleasures of Cognac and Armagnac. Lichine's book is a recognised masterpiece. If you only buy one wine book in your life, make this it, and then those days of looking numbly at the racks of supermarket shelves stacked with wine with absolutely no terms of reference will be a thing of the past. I guarantee it.
This is where it all started. I was having coffee at one of my absolute favourite bookshops (Scarthin Books, Cromford) a couple of years ago, when I spotted the Food and Drink section. Now, before I went over for what would become a fateful gander, I have to admit that I was like most other aspiring middle-class types. I thought I knew a little bit about wine. Like the fact that I generally preferred red over white, and that I enjoyed a bottle of Cavas from time to time to add a little sparkle. I also had a unfounded belief that French wine was probably better than new world stuff, and that because the Beastie Boys had once rapped about Châteauneuf-du-Pape, then that was probably something to aspire to. When at a supermarket, and presented with a million different labels and lands to choose from, I would rub my chin, check a couple of labels, pick up a couple of bottles to weigh them (why?), and then plump for something entirely at random based on the way the label appealed to me. It was, of course, total bollocks. I knew next to nothing about wine. Nor did I have any books about it (unless you want to count a single unread copy of Oz Clark's 1997 opus, Sainsburys' Pocket Wine Guide in this category). I did however have a few cookery books to my name (an unopened and expensive River Cafe picturebook, a well-thumbed traditional Thai book, a couple of Italian jobs, etc). With a bit of help from these books I could (and still am) able to throw the occasional decent bit of chow together. So I was in the mood to complement my foodie library with a drinks library, and at the same time try to fill in that black hole in my brain labelled "wine knowledge". Little did I know that my (typically) random choice on the subject - Alexis Lichine's Wines and Vineyards of France - would turn out to be one of the seminal books on the subject of appreciating and learning about wine. This is where it started.
Alexis Lichine seems to have lived one of those lives the rest of us can only dream about. Born in 1913 in Moscow, his family fled the revolution, moving first to France and then to the US, where they settled in 1934. Returning to Paris after completing his studies at the University of Pennsylvania, he took a job at the Herald Tribune where he was given an assignment to write about French Wine. After travelling around France's major wine regions, he returned to New York in 1935 and took up a job selling wine: a tough job given that the general level of wine knowledge in the US before the second world war was close to absolute zero. The onset of war saw Alexis turn his attention to Californian wine, where he helped to root out the practice of calling US wines after their French counterparts (at that point you could still buy a "Chablis" or a "Burgundy" wine from US winemakers). After Pearl Harbour Alexis joined Military Intelligence, which in essence meant supplying "liberated" fine clarets for the likes of Eisenhower, Patton and Churchill. After the war, he ended up with Churchill again, this time at the Hotel De Paris in Monte Carlo, where they shared a few choice bottles. After listening to a rambling discourse by Churchill on the subject of wine, Alexis had the nerve to correct him on a few points. After that Churchill said, "boy, from now on you do the talking and I'll do the listening". After the war, Alexis set up a shipping company in Bordeaux. Over time Alexis became one of the prime movers within the French wine world. He not only helped to establish the practice of bottling wines at the estate rather than after shipping (as was common in the UK market), but also became a respected grower in his own right with the purchases of Château Lascombes and Cantenac-Prieuré (soon to become Prieuré-Lichine). Lichine himself however was cagey about his own biography, preferring instead to let the wine do the talking. And that's what this book does in spades.OK, so it was published in 1979, so it's going to be a little out of date (I doubt for instance if the hotels listed here still have the same telephone numbers). Do not let this put you off. This book is much more than just a casual glance around some of the wine growing regions of France. It is the wine lover's bible. It is packed full of quotes, anecdotes, asides, and real insights into the art of wine and wine-making which are timeless. Amongst other things we learn that in 1395, Philip the Bold banned the grape he called the "disloyal Gaamez", as it produced wine in great abundance but which had a, "very great and horrible harshness"; and that Alexandre Dumas said that Montrachet should be, "drunk on one's knees with one's hat in hand". Lichine says some very sensible things that would put some modern wine-tasters to shame too (referring to Chablis, he takes the description of a "flinty taste" to be metaphorical, for the simple reason that he has "never tasted flint"). We also learn that the Beastie Boys' favourite beverage ("New Castle of the Pope") can be made from no less than thirteen different grape varieties - a fact that could provide a lifetime's work for a ampelographer (you'll have to look that one up now, won't you?). Lichine powers through the great wines of Bordeaux, Burgundy, Côtes Du Rhône, Loire and Alsace with considerable intelligence and authority, and much of the writing here has stood the test of time. But given the changes in Southern France since 1979, the section of Languedoc and Roussillon is looking a little dated. The book ends with a great section on food and wine ("never serve Bordeaux and Burgundy together"), and the pleasures of Cognac and Armagnac. Lichine's book is a recognised masterpiece. If you only buy one wine book in your life, make this it, and then those days of looking numbly at the racks of supermarket shelves stacked with wine with absolutely no terms of reference will be a thing of the past. I guarantee it.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Icons? Samovars? Defintely no piano...
Monday. The piano that myself and the neighbours so painstakingly moved through the dark confines of our joined-up cellar is, according to the local piano tuner, beyond repair. Now we need to move it back again. This news does not impress the piano teacher at Sammy's school later the same day, who already looks down at us through her pince-nez as a dead loss family. Sammy meanwhile merrily bangs away at the keyboard all the same. Today I also find I'm on my way to Moscow. The last time I was in Russia - St Petersburg to be precise - the border control (all five hundred of them) that boarded the Helsinki train ransacked our luggage looking for samovars and icons (as you do). If they had been looking for counterfeit DVDs, then our party may well have been in trouble. Needless to say, the bureaucracy battle now facing me for this trip is enormous. If I'm to make the meeting in April, negotiations begin now. Last time I picked up a Russian visa I was conned out of a few hundred kroner because I had the temerity to pick up my documents a day late. We'll see how it goes this time round. Fingers crossed. Maybe I can sneak back a grand piano?
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Skating on Thin Ice
Sunday. Start the day with a hat-trick of goals at football. Hurrah! A quick lunch of Toad in the Hole and then the whole family is off ice-skating on the local lake. Terrific stuff! It's plus three mind, so we're all a bit weary, but no-one disappears under the water (remember The Omen?). It's a wonderful day, and I finally make up for Valentines day with some red roses (half price!). We put a fire on and have a fika with the neighbours. At his swimming lesson, Sam jumps off the medium sized high-board, which is impressive because you could see he was dead scared. Watch Life on Mars, which is crap. Still reading Kafka on the Shore, which is ridiculous. But the day finishes well despite last minute mishaps. My body aches and it feels good to be alive. Sometimes it's a pleasure being in Sweden - they take their leisure time seriously. My contribution was for once to leave the laptop at work. Stress free.
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