Posted on March 9, 2010 by nealmartin
This weekend is Daisy’s 3rd birthday, her unofficial celebration today, the official one tomorrow. As a treat, she is allowed to don her reversible Sleeping Beauty/Snow White dress, replete with fake plastic gold tiara and since she is dressed as her alter ego, so her elder sister insists on becoming Snow White/Sleeping Beauty depending upon what mood she is in. As a general rule, we find that they prefer to be the lazy sod that is Sleeping Beauty in the morning and then magically change over at around 3.30pm to Snow White, mercifully without her seven dwarves.
On this rare, bright Saturday morning, I pop into Guildford to purchase a bouquet of flowers to brighten the dining room and two helium balloons from Clintons, one with a giant “3″ and the other with…quel surprise…Sleeping Beauty. At least the bag is light, so much so that I have to weight it down with a CD.
In the afternoon, her two friends come round. Let’s call them “Sleeping Beauty 1″ and “Sleeping Beauty 2″, so that the entire house becomes a flurry of lurid pink satin and sparkly tiaras. Whilst they line up on the sofa like the royal household to watch a DVD (Sleeping Beauty), the parents convene in the other room to discuss such diverse topics as the socio-demographic composition of Guildford, whether Park Barn really is a ghetto and the geological composition of the Congo. Then in the evening, I cook some duck in Chinese 5-spice with not one, but two bottles of Chilean Pinot Noir and Merlot that we somehow manage to polish off in their entirety.
How did we do that?
We are no longer in our bibulous 20s.
Our metabolism is slowing on a daily basis, these days I just have to think of wine and I feel drunk. Daisy will be celebrating her official birthday tomorrow with alcoholics as parents and no doubt, the NSPCC will be calling round by noon to whisk them away to sober foster parents.
Filed under: lily & daisy | Tagged: daisy, sleeping beauty | Leave a Comment »
Posted on March 9, 2010 by nealmartin
A busy morning tarting up a series of German articles that I keep tweaking and editing. I should just send them off an be done with it. I leave around 11a.m. to head for “Hix” restaurant, similar to the abattoir-cum-restaurant that is St. John but without the braised squirrels and wolf’s intestines stuffed with lard and badger’s cheek. Lunch is long and liquid, accompanied by a bottle of La Tâche 1995 that just gets better and better, taking advantage of it being imbibed by just two people with time to watch its entire performance instead of just the intro.
Does it go with the Porterhouse steak to share?
I could not care less to be honest.
The half-bottle of Chateau d’Yquem 1996 is a worthy follow-up and then it’s back home for my wife’s delicious leftover spag bol with a South African Cabernet. I end up watching a documentary on Iron Maiden on BBC4, which is highly entertaining, although I feel bewildered by so much denim and poodle-hair.
Filed under: burgundy | Tagged: drc, hix, iron maiden, la tache, yquem | Leave a Comment »
Posted on March 7, 2010 by nealmartin
Baton down the hatches, tell your mother you won’t be back for a while and extend your bank overdraft…here comes the most hyped vintage ever, the juggernaut piled high with euros that is Bordeaux 2009!!! Already there are unconfirmed reports that it is the best vintage since 2008, unequivocally the greatest vintage of the 21st century (so long as the subsequent 91 are crap.) It is also numerically significant. Just as 2008 finished on a digit that is lucky in China, “9″ is lucky in Greenland and therefore chateaux proprietors are anticipating massive demand from Nuuk. The Bordelais also claim that a recently unearthed tablet from the 3rd century has indicated that “8″ is not the number that brings good fortune in China.
No, no, no.
It is in fact: “9″.
Whoever did the maths back then forgot to add “1″.
Today is the Cercle Rive Droite dégustation of Right Bank 2009s at the salubrious venue of the French ambassador’s residence in Kensington Park Gardens. I would like to thank the publicists for failing to inform anyone about the tasting, which meant that I could taste in relative peace (it took persistent Google searches to find that this annual tasting actually existed…an invitation is normally more helpful.) Maybe that’s the new tactic for the impending 2009 campaign? Hype the vintage to the rafters and then refuse to let anyone to the wines. Think of the mystique, the enigma that would inevitably shroud the vintage. No-one would notice…we’ll be on the 2010 primeur campaign by the time we are scratching our heads thinking: “Did I miss something?”
Anyway, there are some great wines, particularly hailing from Fronsac, although some of alcohol levels get in the way of the wine. Afterwards I catch the tube down to South Ken. and walk down to Roberson Wine Merchants for their 1982 tasting, desperately seeking any decent form of sustenance i.e. KFC, as I am famished. There is no KFC and I consequently wonder just how property values can have reached such stratospheric levels in this enclave of London?
The 1982 tasting has its own ups and downs (e.g. Grand Puy Lacoste and an out of condition Haut Brion respectively), although irrespective of the wines I always thoroughly enjoy these events. Afterwards I am cajoled into another talking head interview with Robersons on the proviso that I do not look like a heroin-addicted insomniac, as depicted in the BBR Burgundy 2008 video blog. I dare not look…I know that I will look like a sleep deprived junkie, so I am better off avoiding the humiliation.
Filed under: bordeaux, en primeur 2010 | Tagged: 1982, bordeaux 2009, cercle rive droite, greenland, kfc, robersons, video blog | Leave a Comment »
Posted on March 6, 2010 by nealmartin
More writing. I am on about 5,000 words per day, which is intense, but hey, that’s what I do.
In the afternoon, Tomoko and I go to inspect at a house for sale in north Guildford that is very tempting. Beautiful interior, nice size rooms, lovely kitchen, decent garden…just in the wrong side of town vis-a-vis schools, which is our priority. But the price is a rare one, determined by logic instead of greed. Perhaps we are being influenced by the owner, who has lit some floating tea lights and inserted a soothing CD for our visit, to intensify the feng shui? Of course, Lily and Daisy and more interested in the Scottish terrier and we have to explain that the canine does not come free with the house (or maybe it does?) We muse upon the prospective Martin family abode on the way home…
One the drawbacks of my job, and it is something that you have to live with, is the time spent away from the family, particularly in the evening. I am out almost every night at tastings this week and one is a last-minute addition: a Burgundy tasting at the Saatchi Gallery organized by Goedhuis & Co., that I might have turned down if the wines were not so unmissable. My wife, who has prepared her magnificent, patented “spag bol”, lets me off the leash for a couple of hours, but expects me home by 08.30 when the pasta will be al dente, whether I am home or not. I arrive at the gallery early but forced to loiter in the freezing cold until opening time. I then shoot in at the front of the queue and focus on three verticals: Romanée-St.-Vivant from Hudelot-Noellat, Clos-de-la-Roche from Ponsot and Clos des Lambrays. I am ruthlessly efficient, almost coming to blows with a young gallery attendant who insists that I leave my bag in the cloakroom. I dump it behind Laurent Ponsot’s stand and hope that he does not report it as a bomb.
For the record, I tasted the Clos des Lambrays next to a stuffed cow that appears to be threaded through a plastic tube.
Filed under: burgundy | Tagged: burgundy, clos des lambrays, house move, laurent ponsot, saatchi gallery | Leave a Comment »
Posted on March 6, 2010 by nealmartin
I work like a demon today, finishing off Willi Schaefer and then making in-roads into Weingut Dönnhoff, with Helmut’s son Cornelius imparting useful information by e-mail. In between all this I am organizing my horrendously busy, spaghetti-like Bordeaux itinerary. It is not the visits that take up so much time: it is the logistics of the whole thing, booking the hotels, working out how to get from A to B via G, Z and Q within minus 5 seconds. The two weeks I am down there has no days off, frighteningly early morning starts and midnight finishes, countless chateau visits, Union de Grand Cru tastings, negociant tastings, private tastings, blind tastings, verticals tastings, dinners and lunches. I am always offered invitations to stay at this or that chateau, but I politely refuse to maintain my impartiality and book the cheapest shack that Bordeaux has to offer. In fact, I should just attach an old caravan to the back of the car and camp in the lay-by overnight.
In the afternoon, I catch the train into London for Linden Wilkie’s 1962 Bordeaux horizontal, where I am reminded of the brilliance of mature Sauternes, in particular a spellbinding citrus-fresh Chateau Coutet that dares challenge the supremacy of Yquem. Afterwards I join a small party of friends for a pizza at “Strada” where we make use of Aiko’s 2-for-1 meal vouchers. My scallop risotto takes a long time coming, but is worth the wait and fills a hole. I become embroiled in an animated discussion about bankers’ bonuses and Gordon Brown’s persecution of the rich. Much to my surprise, my suggestion of castrating the upper class and installing asylum seekers in their place does not win unanimous approval.
Filed under: bordeaux | Tagged: bordeaux, bordeaux 1962, coutet, gordon brown, sauternes | 1 Comment »
Posted on March 6, 2010 by nealmartin
March. So where the hell is spring then? Postponed until 2011 given the gang of cumuli nimbus that loiter above like bored teenagers.
This week I have avowed to plough through a backlog of articles on a cluster of German visits/tasting that I made with David Wainwright last September, concentrating on Willi Schaefer (pictured), Helment Dönnhoff and Klaus-Peter Keller in particular. I put myself in a German frame of mind and start transcribing interviews on my digital voice recorder. It is one of the greatest pleasures: starting with a blank page and finishing the day with a 4-5,000 word original article, editing the images and then editing and improving the prose, buffing it up until I am happy (although to be honest, I never am.)
Later in the day I pop into town to buy a book, Hilary Mantell’s Booker Prize winning “Wolf Hall”, to see whether it deserved to win over AS Byatt’s mesmerizing “The Children’s Book”. I pause to look at what Waterstones “New Releases” has to offer the literate citizens of Guildford?
Tess Daly’s riveting diary of her pregnancy, all soft focus shots and useless tips, a Lady Gaga unauthorized biography that appears to have taken 5 hours to write (including time to “research” on Wikipedia), 3 million glossy cookbooks of smiling TV chefs, a pyramid of Dan Brown’s “The Lost Symbol” that makes one yearn for a match and lighter fuel, “I Can Make You Thin” by hypnotist Paul McKenna (I stare at the book for 5 minutes but mid rift remains in situ), “JLS: Our Story So Far” which surprisingly runs to more than one page and…oh I give up. No wonder the print publishing is in crisis.
Who actually commissions this rubbish?
Who actually buys it?
Certainly not Willi Schaefer. He had a copy of Parker’s 7th Wine Buyers Guide open on the table when I visited last year…obviously a man with taste.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: books, JLS, paul mckenna, tess daly, waterstones, willi schaefer | Leave a Comment »
Posted on March 1, 2010 by nealmartin
Today, the Met Centre have predicted storm-like conditions for the entire day, so I plan nothing and end up at the Mac finishing off my Willi Schaefer article for eRP. Lo and behold, by mid-afternoon there is a glimmer of sunshine. No wonder the UK population has lost faith in our weathermen…bring back Michael Fish.
In between writing about the Mosel’s greatest exponent of Riesling, I cook a roast dinner, which is a perfect match for supposed rainy Sunday. My mum’s recipe for roast potatoes that attain optimal skin crispiness never fails and my dextrous touch stirring the gravy is a wonder to behold (it is all in the wrist.) Lily stubbornly refuses to eat her carrots and green beans and I threaten her with tails of stunted growth, blindness and a whole jeremiad of evils that afflict anti-veg children. Of course, I am a complete hypocrite since I abhor legumes, in particular my nemesis, the Brussell Sprout. It is still a miracle that I eat and dare I say, enjoy carrots, given that I never really ate them until my mid-30s.
After Lily’s vegetables have been scraped into the refuse bin, my daughters insist on dressing up as Snow White, replete with plastic tiaras. Daisy cajoles me into ballroom dancing and whilst I ought to be writing about Willi Schaefer’s vinification techniques, I end up waltzing around the dining room table to “Heligoland” by “Overseer” (a brilliant, subversive song that Spotify surreptitiously introduced whilst listening to Massive Attack’s album “Heligoland”, which proves to my chagrin, how on-line streaming opens up new music as randomly as any record shop, not that any exist nowadays.) I bath the kids as usual and whilst reading Lily her book, she begins to ask me about the concept of dying, whether we go to heaven and explaining in solemn terms, how Emma’s grandparents have recently taken a one-way ticket there. Whilst I think Lily is too young to face the idea of the Grim Reaper, I do have one eye on the Goldie the goldfish, aware that he has a 99% chance of going belly-up by Xmas.
I work through until 10pm and end up watching the gripping “Syriana” with George Clooney and Matt Damon. To be honest, it is difficult to keep up with what is going on in this complex conspiracy saga, partly because I am simultaneously typing Piedmont tasting notes and partly because Tomoko turned off the heating and I seem to be suffering the first stages of hypothermia.
Filed under: lily & daisy | Tagged: carrots, george clooney, goldie, heligoland, roast dinner, syriana, weather men | Leave a Comment »
Posted on February 28, 2010 by nealmartin
This morning we load the kids in the car and drive up to see a new house in the Queen Elizabeth housing estate in north Guildford. No, it is not the most convenient area, but alas, I am not a RBS banker who has just pocketed a multi-zero bonus. I actually quite like the 3-bedroom house. Lily usually rates them by the quality and quantity of toys commensurate with her age group. So a hovel in a shitty part of town above a kebab shop would rate highly if it featured Hello Kitty toys and bright pink wallpaper. This house is empty, so although there are no toys to grade, she is able to run around like a maniac which results in her approval. It’s a good job mortgages are not lent out to 5-year olds (although I suspect some banks did before the 2008 crash.) We then do the shopping at Waitrose, look round a few estate agents in Godalming (whereupon snooty Hamptons International might as well say: “You are too poor…”) and then in the evening, I rustle up a nice sirloin steak with saffron and tarragon sauce.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: estate agents, guildford, houses | Leave a Comment »
Posted on February 28, 2010 by nealmartin
I take Lily/Hello Kitty to school, write in the morning and then head into London for a lunch/meeting for the forthcoming International Wine Challenge, where for the third year running I am acting as a Panel Chairman/dictator. The venue is “Providores”, Peter Gordon’s superb restaurant in Marylebone, his fusion cuisine as daring and sublime as ever. The two week blind judging in April is always exciting, a welcome and much-needed antidote to the bravura of the Bordeaux primeurs the week before. One minute it is Petrus and Lafite, the next a flight of Romanian Pinot Noirs. Then during pudding, I receive an e-mail on my Blackberry: an invitation to a once-in-a-lifetime tasting that climaxes on what would be the oldest wine I have ever tasted (excluding fortifieds, the current record is 1870.) I find myself shivering with excitement.
After lunch I nip down to Notting Hill boutique “Matches” to pick up Tomoko’s ultra-chic “Issa” dress that I bought her for Christmas, said dress having had some loose stitching around the sleeve. When I pay that much for a dress, I want it perfect thank you very much.
Of course, once I have picked the dress up, I am paranoid about leaving the bag somewhere. Losing the Issa dress would result in instantaneous death, so I clutch the bag as if my life depends up it. Which it does.
I walk down to Quotidien internet café near Liberty’s where I always feel productive, accompanied by others slaving away over their Air Macs. I manage to type up a slew of Spanish tasting notes from last year, then walk to Mayfair where my good friend Jude is celebrating her birthday. After a couple of bottles of house white, our party moves to a pizza restaurant opposite for further libation. The conversation turns to wine since my neighbour is intrigued about my vocation, so I order a decent bottle of Quinta do Crasto to show that you don’t have to pay much. I do not take a tasting note, since I become embroiled in a deep discussion with Jude’s brother about the ethics of childbirth. He has the viewpoint of being a qualified Harley Street doctor and having delivered 12 babies. My viewpoint is that of a dad. Anyway, it is a lively conversation over a chicken pizza and crispy squid.
I depart around 11p.m. to catch the last train home after an enjoyable evening with old friends. The Issa dress makes it home safely. I live another day.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: childbirth, international wine challenge, issa, jude, providores, quinta do crasto | Leave a Comment »
Posted on February 28, 2010 by nealmartin
I have a discrete word about register duty in the ear of Lily’s teacher, whilst my daughter unwraps herself from her Hello Kitty scarf, Hello Kitty bobble hat and Hello Kitty boots. I dread the day when she comes home with a Hello Kitty tattoo. I spend the entire day strapped to the Mac, writing an article on last year’s Louis Jadot anniversary dinner, trying to think up ways of expressing the sensory experience of an 1898 Montrachet (the article will appear on Wine-Journal on eRP in a few days.)
Lily, dressed in her Hello Kitty uniform, returns at 3.00pm, elated having been chosen to take the register to the school secretary. I guess you could say that the elation of tasting an 1898 Montrachet is similar to the first time your teacher asks you to take the register in front of the class.
In the evening, a lovely Pinotage. No oxymoron…a lovely Pinotage!
Filed under: lily & daisy | Tagged: 1865 corton, class register, hello kitty | Leave a Comment »
This weekend is Daisy’s 3rd birthday, her unofficial celebration today, the official one tomorrow. As a treat, she is allowed to don her reversible Sleeping Beauty/Snow White dress, replete with fake plastic gold tiara and since she is dressed as her alter ego, so her elder sister insists on becoming Snow White/Sleeping Beauty depending upon what mood she is in. As a general rule, we find that they prefer to be the lazy sod that is Sleeping Beauty in the morning and then magically change over at around 3.30pm to Snow White, mercifully without her seven dwarves.
