The organisers went nuts!

I’ve nosed the Springfield Wild Yeast Chardonnay before, but I’ve never picked up the scent of nuts.  We wine geeks nose wines, we don’t smell them.  But even if you smelled the wine on that Saturday, you would have been surprised by the nuttiness.  The Chardonnay, the Chenin even the Cabernet had a bouquet of caramelised cashews.   Terroir can influence the aroma and in this case the Robertson terroir certainly was responsible for the nuttiness.   Mostly the terroir was influenced by the nut roasting stall in the middle of the wine tent.   This act of nuttiness describes more than anything else the organisers’ focus.  And exploring the wines of region was not the predominant focus.  Getting tourists to spend money in the region of the wine show, now that was their focus.  My focus was stocking up.

I waded amongst the usual suspects and some unknowns in search of something new for the stock room.    The usual suspects, in alphabetical order, are Arendsig, Ashton, Graham Beck, Kingsriver, Springfield, Windfall.  Missing for some reason were big hitter De Wetshof and underappreciated Major’s Hill.   The Arendsig Sauvignon Blanc did not have the guava from fermentation as the 2010, so no purchase.  Most Sauvignon Blancs were disappointing, but did eventually buy Graham Beck’s Pheasant Run, which went on to win numerous awards.

All of Springfield’s were as lovely as usual.  Just about the whole range is now living in the stockroom.  Something about the Sauvignon Blancs are just a bit different this year.  I do prefer earlier vintages.  I bought some extra Wild yeast Chardonnay on instructions of the Grey Gander.  I hoped he would forget about these, but reluctantly I’ve parted with some of those beauties.  Windfall’s Shiraz joined their older siblings.  They will sit there on the rack and look at the contents of my garage for the next couple of years.

 The local hospice sold cold drinks and ice cubes.   I thought it quite appropriate for the hospice to sell ice in the heat.   I missed the biterballen ⁽¹⁾  from Kingsriver that they made last year.   But I did get to taste and buy their apricot wine.  A different experience from grape wine, but still drinkable.   Apricots are slightly sour, so not surprisingly there is some acidity to the wine.  It will remain a novelty and not a everyday wine. 

After a while the crush of people enjoying themselves along the riverbank tripped over my people-o-phobia wire.  I had to go.  The actual buying bit took a bit longer than expected.  As bonus for the 4 times the credit card machine had to be primed I received two large carrier bags as special compensation.   Half an hour later my wine and I caught a lift with a shuttle.  A couple inside approved of my choice of vinous pleasure.   They were at a food and wine pairing event with Arendsig wines earlier in the year.  Enjoyed it very much, they said. 

With the Honda eventually located in the car park I filled the boot and set off.  The destination after this was “the wine shop on Robertson main road”.  Picked up a few missing pieces and headed for the only logical place to go after a wine festival.  A brewery. 

Saggy Stone brewery is a bit off the beaten track.  Coming from Robertson I took the road Robert Frost described.  Flood repairs were going on the dirt road.  No actual work was performed on a Saturday afternoon, but the stop and go sites were still up.  It wasn’t manned and didn’t need to be.  No other traffic impeded my progress.    It’s a good thing the website has good directions on it, because you are not going to stumble over Saggy Stone.  But it is well worth the trip.  They make a steam beer and an ale as well as seasonals (experiments).  I preferred the ale.  I had chicken quesadillas that were truly brilliant.  If you are in that part of the world, make a plan to go.  The setting is brilliant, the food good and the beer nice.  What else do you need to be happy?

(1)    Go read my bit about bitterballen in Franschoek. 

Bubble, bubble, it's no trouble

If you like legs, you should have been with me on Sunday in Franschhoek.  In fact, if you appreciate any part of the female form, Franschoek’s bubbles festival was the place to be.  Once again a wonderfully hot day ensured that the target audience dressed appropriately for the festival.  Appropriately in this case is my synonym for “If you got it, flaunt it”.  And quite a few had it⁽¹⁾.  Looking just at bubbling wine in a glass is only so stimulating.  Looking at the shapely holder of the glass as well increases the stimulation factor and I get to use more of my senses.  Supposedly if you use more of your senses, you remember more of an event.  I will long remember this. 

The theme was for the third year running “Black and White in a Hat”. So there I was with black shoes, black trousers and my new edition of white T-shirt with giraffe on it⁽²⁾.  No hat though.  I look like a prat in a hat. ⁽³⁾  Mostly people stuck to the theme.  So the woman in the figure hugging red dress had guts.  All neatly packaged where it should be.  One particular woman had legs that mesmerized me for quite some time.  Eventually I walked over.

“I’ve been objectifying you for the last half hour.  How about I get you a drink?”  

Should have saved myself a walk.  

Of the non female attendees there were a few using the Julian calendar.  That or they did not get the message that “A moustache is for Movember only, not for life.” 

The mostly stuck to Plan A was to sail into uncharted waters.  To boldly go where I haven’t gone before, although others have.  They must have.  They made the wine.  This year the Champagne Chauffeur only had The Blonde as passenger.  Various weak excuses were offered.  Ghana, Zambia, in laws, house fixing.  Other people’s priorities seem so twisted when seen through the bottom of my wine glass. 

At the always brilliant Krone I bought a bottle of Nicholas Charles Krone Marque 1 as I always seem to.  They were low on stock so I paid and said, seeing as the young Mr Krone looked trustworthy, that he should keep it for me.  Even if he had not looked trustworthy, I know where to get him during the week.  This I put up against Piper Heidsieck Brut as I find the Marque 1 the best bubbles from this country. The Blonde picked up which was which immediately.  You just cannot hide our sunshine!

At the House of Ahrens they make a very good MCC from bought in grapes from 11 different areas.  Thus they are not restricted with what nature has chosen to make grow next to their winery.  After 1 year in oak barrels they keep it for 3 years in the bottles before selling to the great unwashed.  They have an interesting marketing strategy.  At R315 a bottle they are comfortably at the very top end of local bubbles.  Yet they insist on selling it only in six-packs.  So a reasonable indulgence becomes quite an outlay and therefore not a sale to this punter. 

My Wyn.  A name that can lead to fist fights late at night.  “It’s MY wine I said!”  “Keep your grubby little mitts of MY WINE!”  With only 1500 bottle made a year it claims to be the smallest winery in Franschoek.  They have one less to sell and I have one more to drink.

Francois la Garde is not the name of the winemaker, but one of his ancestors.  The winery makes MCC from unusual grapes.  A brut from Semillion, a rosé from Mourvedre and another brut, this time from standard Chardonnay and Pinot Noir.  Like the Shiraz bubbles from Ntida and Clouds or the Sauvignon Blanc one from Bramon it is different.  Well made, but the starting point ensures something unusual.  I don’t normally mind unusual, but the FLG did not grab me by the taste buds.From Namaqua comes a Rosé so red it is bordering on orange.  If you want to experiment, go and buy this.  The Laborie Brut that was offered as counter point was in a much better class.

At Genevieve they asked my name and my involvement in the industry, because I seemed familiar. Just a large consumer, I replied.  I should get a T-Shirt that says that.  The 2009 is tarter than the 08.  The delightful winemaker (Melissa Genevieve Nelsen) suggests I keep these a while.  So the twins will not be opened for a few months.   Years if I can show some self discipline. 

The name Claudia brings to my mind’s eye long, flowing blonde hair.  Amongst other images.  At Domain des Dieux that is what they call their brut.  It was just budgetary reasons that kept me from clutching a Claudia.  Sharon, the rosé, went untasted. 

At Chabivin they make a lovely local version and import a few French versions.  The tasting room just opened outside of Stellenbosch.  If the friendliness at the festival is representative a visit will be in order.

The Quoin Rock Brut was made from 75% Pinot Noir, but did not have the colour you would expect from such a high percentage.  The bubbles are made from grapes that grew up in Agulhas, cool as it gets in South African wine terms.  Money exchanged hands here as well. The Rickety Bridge used less Pinot Noir than Quoin Rock, but was redder in colour.  I held the two glasses up to check the colour difference.  The guy pouring got stroppy “I filled it to the line!” I thought the neighbours were going to lose it when I explained that his white shirt made a good background for comparing the colours.

All in all a good day, although the only place in the shade we could get was close to the musicians.  The regular, more famous MCC must wait for another time for a write up or until they are on special for New Years at the local supermarket.

(1)    They probably still have it

(2)    The giraffe says Hello.

(3)    And Doctor Zeuss let that title go.

Non whisky from my whisky week

It was a good thing the cow died before growing up, giving her live to be veal, because she tasted vealy, vealy good.  No problems in not delivering on her youthful potential.  Soft and succulent.  As young cows should be.  I strolled into Colcachios⁽¹⁾ after my last whisky master class on Friday .  Place was packed.  My waiters fluctuated until she settled on being Toni.  Who was the recipient of a large tip because she broke out in involuntary laughter at my veal joke. 

The menu should contain a warning though. “May contain cauliflower.”  I am warned about nuts on menus (not nutters though) so I would appreciate a heads up about broccoli.  Earlier in the week at another establishment I ordered flapjacks, bacon and maple syrup for breakfast.  These three were very good, but also on the plate when it arrived was a handful of rocket.  I did not order rocket.  I struggle to think that even rabbits eat leaves for breakfast.  Same thing happened across the table with the Bald Eagle.  His order included poached eggs, hollandaise sauce and I never heard a mention of foliage.  Yet, disgustingly central on his plate was a bunch of chlorophyll.  I like to eat, I don’t graze.  And I shouldn’t be forced to do so.

Further culinary delights for the week centred on sushi.  The first was accompanied by me laughing out loud in public.  I was looking at the pictures of “Dawn of the bunny suicides”.  Go look at the work of Andy Riley. He has a geniusly sick mind.  And is very, very funny.  Public embarrassment meant nothing to me as I guffawed at bunnies trying to snuff out their mortal coil.  The sushi was deep fried California rolls.  Crispy and warm on the outside, soft and cold inside. ⁽²⁾ The contrasting sensations burst into a symphony of taste on my tongue.  All this in a restaurant called Vanilla in a strange sort of shopping centre, of which more in a later post.

Further sushi-tainment later in the week, courtesy of SAKE (a restaurant situated in an industrial mall)  Sesame seed balls, once again deep fried California rolls, what turned out to be soya wrapped maki and other well known⁽³⁾ parcels.  The Runner steered me in this direction and I can see myself partaking of their buffet again.  And again.

The Bald Eagle and I ended up in origin coffee shop.  I get coffee made in a way I have never seen before.  They also have a tea shop with over 100 different teas.  I am overwhelmed by the choice, but finally reduce the choices down to three.  Maybe I should have looked at the price before hand, but at R90 a packet I will drinking this as sparingly as whiskey.  At a bottle store nearby I purchase wheat beers from Natal, Darling, Cape-Town and Windhoek all in one store.  I can stop brewing now.  I have enough choice.  The Wit beer from Darling breweries ⁽⁴⁾ is also available at my local bottle store. 

Back home my favourite sushi place (still, because it is so close) AJ’s reopen. We end up there on the Sunday afternoon as the only customers.  Pretty soon it becomes: “Show us what you can do”   And the two sushi chefs do just that.  A very good, lazy afternoon where I get introduced to Japanese eel.   They also now have an extended Thai menu.  At last I have a goal in life again.  Goals are apparently important outside of soccer and hockey too.  I will dedicate my next few months to exploring Thai cuisine.

(1)    An Italian style eatery chain

(2)    I used to know a woman like that

(3)    Not by me though.

(4)    Brewed by the genius that is Chris Barnard at Boston breweries.

Stellenbosch Wine festival

Youths everywhere! All around me they are pushing and shouting!  I have to get out of here!  As I struggle amongst the human tide I spot a bit of fresh air.  At last I reach it.  Free at last! Momentarily free at last.  The crush of bodies happened at the Stellenbosch Wine Festival and I was there, doing research. 

The Stellenbosch Wine route is the oldest one in the country.  It is not an actual route, if you insist on following it as a route you will muck around the University-and-Wine town like the Flying Dutchman ⁽¹⁾  tasting wine all over.  Visitors from up country ⁽²⁾  will often express a desire “To do the wine route.”  146 wineries, say at least 5 wines per place and your liver is undonatable.  The wine route is an association of wine producers that perpetrate some collective marketing.  To be fair they also set standards.  Not for the wine, but opening hours and the like. 

Back to festival day.  Arriving early helps as students are not morning persons.  Neither am I and I had to drive 150km to get there, but wine is a powerful motivator.  After 10 years of attending these shows I still have not settled on a strategy.  Do you taste the ones you can’t afford?  The old favourites, the supermarket ones, some you never had before?  The Runner and her play group joined me for a bit and we started on bubbles.  You should always start with bubbles.  I would cope with Mondays a lot better if I could start it with bubbles.  I tried to show her some of my favourites, including Thelema.  The place was filling up by this time, limiting the choices. 

What differentiate this festival from the rest are the master classes.  I went to a vertical tasting of Simonsig’s Red Hill Pinotage presented by winemaker Debbie Thompson.  She made all but the 1998.  Pinotage grows like a weed, she says.  You have to control it to get the best results.  They use bush wines up to 35years old.  The bush wines and trellised wines are vinified separately then blended in the wood.  They pick over a three month period to get the different components of the wine right.  Pinotage skin can be very bitter, so you have to be careful not to extract too much juice.  As the years progressed, they started picking them riper (25-26 balling).  Whilst the ripeness leads to better flavours, the higher sugar gets converted into higher alcohol.  Thompson argues you should not be scared of the alcohol as it can be balanced by the fruit, but supermarkets are reluctant to stock much higher than 14% alcohol wines.  For export to Europe, the higher alcohol means more duty, so importers don’t like it either.  But we have all this sunshine!  What is a grape supposed to do?  Hold back? 

All this from a very educational Thompson.  She also commented that merlot is very popular in Durban.  Simonsig doesn’t make a merlot, so the East Coast is not a big market for them.

The mentioned sunglasses style

It was a good, unseasonably warm day, with lots of youthful legs on show.  A lot of them even female legs.  So at least some compensation from the throng of humanity that impeded my perambulations.   Students as humanity are maybe stretching the concept.  Lots of people.  An overwhelming amount of people.    And a lot of them wore the stupid, Maya the Bee, sunglasses.  If someone would just slap them silly and step on those glasses.  Save them embarrassment in a few years time when they revisit the glut of cell phone photos.

Such was my crowdophobia that I left at 14:00, leaving half the university still trying to get in.  Inevitably I was drawn up Helshoogte to my vinous home of excellence.  They told me at the festival that there are still merlot and merlot reserve left at Thelema.  They didn’t lie.  But then again it was at the Thelema stall that I acquired the knowledge.  Whilst there I managed to taste all that they had left.  I wrote about this farm’s wines on numerous occasions and I will continue to do so for the grape juice they wrap around their alcohol supplies me with moments of salubrious excellence. ⁽³⁾    Cabernet, Merlot, Shiraz and some white blends made up the purchase du jour.  One half full boot, one quivering master card, one salivating gob. 

With an eye on the return visit to snap up the new releases of the Sauvignon Blancs and Chardonnays a modicum of restraint kept the purchase down.  Even so, I asked the knowledgeable Marelise ⁽⁴⁾  not to tell me the amount.  She obliged, even folding the credit card slip so I won’t see.  But what price delectation?  ⁽⁵⁾ 

Like an arsonist I returned to the scene of the crime early in September.  It turns out the folks at Thelema has only one goal.  My financial ruin.  Plus maybe that of my liver.  This year see again additions to the range.  Two sweet wines, a deeply delightful red blend and a few blends from Elgin.  The Rabelais red blend (2007) just blew me away.  At R300 odd rand a bottle it should.  It should also be kept from the likes of me.  The problem is not so much affordability, it is the area I have for keeping the stock.  These wines from Mr Webb improve with a bit of bottle age and thus take up almost 30% of my storage space inhibiting purchases from other producers.  OK, sorry, I thought I could get away with it, but clearly that is rubbish.  The other wines just stay in their boxes.  Although quite expensive, the trip is always rewarding. 

When I do share the Thelemas the usual result is delight.  The wine with the most favourable result?  The cheapest one.  The R45 Muscat de Frontignan.  My dad and Mr Webb’s mother in law called it “Swembadwyn”.  Wine for drinking next to the pool.  It is technically off-dry, but just this side of it, and as such a standout.  Balance is perfect.  Scarily drinkable. 

(1)    And if you tasted enough you will probably drive to earn that nickname

(2)    Home to places like the Holy Ground of Loftus Versfeld

(3)    Super pompous sentence!

(4)    Also has a sumptuous set of wheels on her. 

(5)    Quite a lot as it turned out.

Changes

With the passage of enough time everything changes.  Nothing lasts forever.  It is unfortunate that I have to relearn this.  Relearn it quite often.  In the last month as the seasons changed outside so did my life.⁽¹⁾ Departures of my boss, cooking guru (she doesn’t want to be called a teacher) and Curly.  Impact on my life not necessarily in that order.  Arrival of a new burger-and-pizza joint including the re-entry of the best waitress in town.  Six years ago it was she who made me realised why pregnant women makes me sad.  Because I had nothing to do with it.  As I said, as the seasons changed outside, so did the outside of my life.  Inside it was the same border line acceptable cholesterol filled heart.  Oh, I lie, blood pressure down from 180/110 to 130/80.

 In an effort to get a return to order, as I know it, in my life I will try to schedule my life around these events:

3 Sep:  The SouthYeasters visit Triggerfish Brewing in Somerset-West and NO37 visit Thelema

8 Sep: Wine X  'nough said

14-16: October Robertson wine festival.  With a plan to visit two micorbreweries in the area.

2-4 Nov: Whisky.  More Whisky! This year Ardbeg have their own stall.  At last. 

3-4 Dec: Fill the car with women, fill their glasses with bubbles in Franschoek

8-10 Dec:  Beer essentials.  A new one, but then, I love change, do I not?

It is so important to have goals.  One focus on the goals and the changes does not deter one.  Is that a good outlook on life?  I will drink to that anyhow.

      1.  Can still do pompous sentences though.

Bastille Day in Franshhoek

In the late 1680’s French Protestants fled to South Africa to escape religious persecution.  They settled on the edges of the Dutch East India Company’s pit stop to India.  Employed as farmers, they produced food and wine for the ships going to and from India.  Amongst those immigrant farmers was one of my ancestors.  To this day the town of Franschhoek, named for the immigrants, likes to pretend they are part of France.  In Stellenbosch winemakers make the wine, but in Franschhoek Vignerons do.  There is even a museum dedicated to the French Huguenots.  A few years ago I went to have a look at my heritage.  They charged an entry fee of R5!  R5!!!!!  Surely my heritage is worth more than that?  A measly R5!  People should be glad to pay ten times that to learn about my roots.  Parking is more expensive than that in the town.  It has become a playground for the well-heeled.  So they have a festival in an overpriced town an hour from Cape Town to celebrate the storming of a mostly empty prison.    And I went.

Attracted by the very good food and improving wines of the valley and the promise of a French corner market. Not so much the boules tournament or the barrel rolling competition. Corner market under delivered on its promise.  It was here that I first noticed all the stupid red berets.  I explained to Curly that I will not be publicly associated with her should she wear a beret.  Turns out the feeling were mutual.  We had time before the wine tent opened, so we strolled into town and to a chocholatier (chilli chocolate and just plain went into the bag) and a bookshop.  Got Gangway, a very little known book by Brian Garfield (also wrote James Bond novels for the Fleming Trust) and my absolute favourite Donald E Westlake.  Then to a liquor store that has some empty first growths and some locked away stuff in an amazing underground wine cellar with water flowing in little canals to regulate temperature.  Worth a trip if you want some good and unusual wines.  Or if you just want to see a spectacular cellar.

 By now the town has filled up a bit and we mosied up to the wine tent.  A queue up the hill was our next stop.  When eventually we got through the gates, I saw Dieu Donné beer, but the weiss was sold out and the pilsner tasted as if the lines were not properly cleaned since day before. 

Although a very big tent, it was still overcrowded.  Yet more sad berets and the stereotypical striped French outfits.  At one stall the wine dispensers wore French maid outfits.  The black and white tops that also form a short skirt type thing.  Legs clad in black stockings (even one fishnet!)  In between was something I can only describe as bloomers made from old flour bag material.  I asked Curly what they were for and she reckoned it was there precisely why I don’t want it to be there.  I tried to convince her to trade outfits, but cooperation was not forth coming.  Must not speak ill of her though, she carried all purchases for the day until I bought the coffee. 

At the stand of Le Quartier Francais I had the chance to buy their famous lamb burger from Ms Janse herself.  The burger lived up to reputation, even if it was a simplified show special.  They also had bitterballen.  In the end we bought 50 of them and I ate 87.4% of them.  They were better than ones I ate in Belgium and I even took some to work the next day.  Lovely stuff. 

From the wines we tried the shiraz from Porcupine Ridge (as big brother Boekenhoutskloof was not there).  Cape Chamonix did not have their chardonnay there.  Had a Sauvignon Blanc with either  long barrel time or barrel fermented that was good.  The bubbles at Cabriere, Môreson and Morena worked for both of us.  My companion for the day liked the Allée Bleue olive oil. And, no  she didn’t taste half a glass.  The Shiraz bubbles from Solms-Delta was surprisingly good.  My previous encounters with the style at Ntida and Camberley did nothing to convince me the style has merit. We missed the barrel rolling competition.  On purpose.  It emptied the wine tent and created some semblance of space.

With Curly carrying almost everything, after buying wine, the enthusiasm to stick around waned.  At some point during the afternoon there was an intention to buy wine from Vrede en Lust, but luckily we missed it.  Luckily, as we then tasted wine at the cellar on the way back.  The stupid French maid’s outfits were on display here as well.  Still no success with the outfit swapping idea.

We had the outside view.  From vrede and Lust Website (and tasting room)

It turned out to be a bit of a Damascus moment for my companion.   We sat on a bench on a stoep overlooking a vineyard and the mountains guarding the Franschhoek valley while tasting our way through their range.  Jess is a lovely pink rosé ⁽¹⁾ that goes very well with strawberries.  She is also a 21 year old whose father owns a winery.  Her kinship with strawberries I have no knowledge of.  A situation that is unlikely to change.  Sarah is either her sister or an unwooden ⁽²⁾ chardonnay.  Two Jesses and no Sarahs joined my stock.  The Sauvignon Blanc was the 2010 and while nice, not wow.

Turns out Marguerite is not another sibling, but the daughter of the original owner who eventually married a slave.  The story might have been fuller told if I had not insisted it should be 25 words or less.  In the wine tent it was the then unknown Marguerite that elicited a response “Very nice; for a white wine.  I could drink this.”  So it came to pass that a dead French women who could not keep her hands off the help started a confirmed red wine drinker on the road to insight.  The wine in question is a barrel fermented Chardonnay born in 2010.  In a few years time I will visit my two Marguerites and hope my love for them won’t be diminished. 

In a moment of rampant imagination the Viognier was named:  Viognier.  Simply named and simply delicious.  While the Woman-likes-Reds was tempted by Jess, charmed by Marguerite, this functionally named liquid paved the road to Syria’s capital.  She took four home while I took one each to accompany Jess and Marguerite.

Enter Mocholate stage right.  A Malbec with coffee notes.  No overt Arabica here, rather a subdued hint of something coffeeish.  Our server claimed that it is a winter wine.  To be enjoyed in front of a fire.  The Syrah she explained was a more serious wine.  It should be drunk with more serious meat.  “I thought all meat were serious,” came from my left.  I couldn’t agree.  I’ve encountered viennas that were quite frivolous. 

A Bordeaux blend called Boet Erasmus (yes as in the rugby stadium.  Another relative of the owner) showed promise to age a few more years.  We had the 2008 vintage.  Some of this were also planned to join the trip home.  And then the 2004 Classic appeared.  Also a five way Bordeaux blend, but ready to drink.  Drink lots of.  A case each was inevitable.

In the end a good day out.  I will be back in the valley for the bubbles festival in December.  Sooner if the bitterballen are on the menu. 

(1)    Yes I know.  Rosé tend not to come in other colours. 

(2)    Sometimes it is not worth correcting people.  It spoils the funny.

The return of a king

From my rather large size ⁽¹⁾ you will think that I am not that fussy about what I eat.  That maybe I prefer quantity to quality.  There may be an element of truth in your stereotypical thinking, but I do like good food.  And nowhere in this town is the food better than at Froggy's.  Because my friends lack the spontaneity to go for dinner at 5 min notice at 1900  ⁽²⁾ I ended up eating there two days in a row.  Once on my own, once not. The title of the post refer to the return, sort of, of the Greek yogurt dessert. it should give you and idea how highly I rated it. The original strain of culture died, so he is experimenting with other strains.  For months my favourite finish was not available.  Today saw it's glorious return.  Not quite the yogurt it used to be, but with honey, nuts and seasonal fruits very good indeed.

As I had time when dining on my own, I worked through the menu selecting wines that should go well with it according to Katinka van Niekerk's The Food and Wine Pairing guide.  And here, as a public service, are the results.

Carpaccio:  Chardonnay, unwooded or lightly wooded.  Carignan ⁽³⁾ or Pinot Noir
Asparagus:   Sauvignon Blanc
Mussels:    Sauvignon Blanc, Dry Riesling
Lamb shank:  Cabernet Sauvignon or Shiraz
Rack of lamb:   Cabernet Sauvignon
Fillet with pepper sauce:   Wooded Chardonnay or Shiraz
Fillet with mushroom sauce: Wooded Chardonnay, Semillon, Viognier or Merlot, Merlot Cabernet blend
Oxtail Madras:  Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet-Merlot blend or Merlot
Lamb Curry: Sauvignon Blanc, lightly wooded Chardonnay, Pinot Noir or Pinotage
Thai Green curry: Sauvignon Blanc, Wooded Chenin Blanc
Thai Red curry:  Sauvignon Blanc

So far tested by myself the asparagus, lamb curry, the fillet with pepper sauce, mussel soup.  The tests will continue.  Let me know if you have other matches that work.




(1) I can lose an entire Kate Moss and still be overweight
(2) Early day tomorrow,   I have already eaten, I am about to eat and looks delicious, my phone doesn't go to voice mail, I have forgotten. 
(3) No I don't know anyone who has this in their stock.

Chicken soup for the stomach

There I was, impersonating the hunting bit from hunter-gatherer.  So, yes, I was in the supermarket.  Suddenly I was accosted in the diminutive.  Very few people are left alive that can do that.  This was my cooking teacher.  She is one of them. 

“What are you eating tonight?” she asked.

I was planning fast commercial fried chicken.  But it was as if your classical music teacher caught you in the rap section of the local music store. “I was hoping the Chinese place would make my food tonight.” I ventured.  Lying badly. 

“Nonsense!  Try this.  Fry an onion and some garlic.  Add some chicken pieces and fry that for 2 minutes.  Then add a can of sweet corn and the same amount of chicken stock.  Trust me, this is the best soup in the world.”  She then proceeded to check if I had all the ingredients.  The sweet corn I did not, for I did not have the heart to tell her I don’t like sweet corn.  I left with all I needed. 

And she was right.  Despite my previous dislike of sweet corn, I liked this soup.  So I now like sweet corn.  I will make this soup again.  I added some milk and left the coriander out, but the rest was her recipe.  Lesson relearned: Don’t argue with the experts.

The last conversation when I left work was about kidney stones, so getting a good recipe before home was a delightful bonus.  What made it better was finding very good Sauvigonon Blanc in the local supermarket.  Gyles Webb makes exceedingly good wine at Thelema.  Once a year I make a pilgrimage to the farm, fill the boot, max the credit card and look for space in the wine rack.  Almost half of the stock these days is Thelema’s Chardonnay, Merlot and Cabernet.  But I missed last year, this despite the fact Mr Webb liked the Sauvignon Blanc of 2010 very much.  Very poor performance from me.  After sampling the 2010, I will be back tomorrow, probably clearing the supermarket stock.

To my utter delight, the store now stock not only Thelema Sauvignon Blanc, but also Sauvignon.com’s 2010 version, which was highly rated by Wine magazine, untried by me.  And there to add to my wine spending spree was the eponymous 2011 Sauvignon Blanc.  Happy days this week!