If you happen to have some 1997 Domaine Guy Duflouleur Santenay ‘Clos Genets’, I would suggest leaving it for another 5 years yet.
At 13 years in bottle, this wine is still very youthful and when first opened quite primary and nervy in acidity, breathing out nicely over half an hour or so to reveal more generosity in fruit and texture, although accented on red currant and red cherry with a lingering sweetness and spicy, aniseed farewell.
A 7am chug around Falmouth Bay, that is the mouth of the Fal River, checking our lobster pots proved fruitless, although I did catch a Mackerel on the way back.
We set off to Helford Passage for lunch at the Ferryboat Inn, now run by the oyster and seafood specialist, Wright Bros, of Borough Market and their Soho restaurant, which we dined a few weeks back and had a most enjoyable experience. More on that later.
Having traveled down from Highgate by train to Haslemere in Surrey for a few days to stay with friends, we then drove to their beach house in St Antony, Cornwall, a good 6 hour drive stopping off at their Devon Farm to raid the cellar. He’s a true Wandering palate with a taste for old German Riesling and Southern Rhone reds.
So here we are back in London, again! That is we were in London for 7 days in early June, and on to Paris for 3 days, then down to Burgundy for 3 days, back to Paris, subsequently home to Singapore. All of which I should have written up by now but got as far as Tate Gallery and have been sidetracked by all number of things since. Not least a fantastic 4 days of the continuing pinot noir conspiracy with Sam Neill (Two Paddocks) and Phillip Jones (Bass Phillip) with several events in Singapore.
One normally hesitates when recommending to ‘dine’ in a gallery or museum beyond basic sustenance, but Tate Modern’s restaurant on level 7 is an exception, not only offering modern (as you would expect) high quality, seasonal-focused food but also possibly one of the best dining views in London.
To gain the maximum appreciation of this brilliant art deco style building and its surrounds, walk along the Thames River and cross over the Millennium Bridge. It’s an incredible space, inside and out; almost as surreal as the paintings housed in it with its soaring 325ft chimney, equally towering interior ceilings and the massive iron beams of what was once the Bankside Power Station.
The first phase of the summer holidays sees us on Singapore Airlines A380 to Paris. What a difference it is to fly in this jet albatross, even if we were in cattle class. A little advice, if you’re in economy try to get seats in the upperdeck, a small section at the rear of the cabin that is economy yet, somehow feels more intimate and well, less economy.
We discovered a cake shop the other day with a difference, moreover an inspiring example of trusting one’s gut instinct and being brave enough to make a courageous career change after 20 years in a totally unrelated industry.
Classic Cakes opened its doors in 2005 when Charles Quek finally succumbed to his passion for baking, leaving behind 20 years in the insurance industry and fore filling a nagging obsession to turn his hobby in to a business.
Came across this mixed dozen offering from Berry Bros & Rudd, which struck me as not only as very good value but an ideal mix of regions and styles. And more importantly, organically grown grapes. Interesting to see Dominique Lafon using screwcap closure for his Macon Blanc, unquestionably the right way to go and should rattle the cages in this conservative part of the vinous world.
The Champagne Larmandier Bernier Premier Cru ‘Tradition’ Extra Brut is what real Champagne is all about, none of this high-dosage lolly water here, this is pristine, invigorating, captivating Champagne.
Our small wine group got together the other night for a horizontal of sweet wines from the 2002 vintage, primarily from Sauternes and Barsac, along with a couple of Australian stickies, two Tokaj and one German Beereenauslese.
It was actually put together by Jeremy, our sole vigneron amongst the group, who as it happens has an incurable fetish for Chateau D’Yquem and wanted to corroborate his penchant for the said nectar by tasting it in a masked line-up amongst the main Sauternes-Barsac pack, verified by the dexterous and multifarious palates of our group.
I’m in nirvana, “a place or state characterized by freedom from or oblivion to pain, worry, and the external world”. Actually I’m at the Datai resort, Langkawi Island, 30 kilometers off the coast in the northern part of the Peninsular Malaysia where the Straits of Malacca meet the Indian Ocean.
We are at the beach club, nestled amongst the jungle that would have its feet in the sea if it weren’t for a strip of ivory coloured sand. Our poolside table has a view to one side across the tranquil Andaman Sea towards the first islands of Thailand, the largely uninhabited Tarutao Archipelago, with its rugged peaks silhouetted in the evening sunset.
