3 posts tagged “rhone wines”
I arrive late to the tasting. It’s across town and it’s rainy - not a taxi in sight.
Noisily I descend the stairs of the blue bird wine cellar. Slurps abound and a quietly spoken gentleman occupies the interests of everyone in the room. I go unnoticed.
It's Australia evening at the cellar. I look for our host.
He was surprisingly well groomed - Italian blazer (for sure), hair immaculate, I could go on ...I thought the tasting notes said he was a cattle farmer's son. My prejudices laid out before you, i was expecting cowboy hat, cotton jeans, spurs and chewing tobacco. Oh, I was so wrong. I later read he was educated in London, worked in the futures securities market, returned home after a period in London and is now a respectable vineyard owner. Not sure he picks the grapes – a very difficult picture to conjure up.
Reschke is a vineyard in the lower part of the south eastern region of Australia called Coonawarra.
What wonderful little wines. I tasted their entire latest vintage (2004) and was amazed at the quality of wines. As a big Rhone fan, I thought their shiraz was on the nose – peppery, big black fruits and good round textures. There were several interesting cabernet sauvignons too; the only underwhelming wine was the sauvignon blanc.
Unsure about the wine names (empyrean, bos and vitilus) – seems like someone recently passed their latin exam.
Wonderful little vineyard to look out for.
http://www.mountedward.com/wines/index.html
Plummy, long finish and very elegant wine. Mount Edward Pinot Noir is from the Central Otago region of New Zealand and is a pretty decent wine.
As a fan of the syrah grape, I always compare others to this. I continue to put Hermitage (from the Northern Rhone region) on a peddle stool and the grand title of “my favorite wine”. These are elegant and subtle wines.
Pinot Noir produces some fantastically stylish wines. Of course, it’s the grape of Burgundy. I am still surprised I have not yet fallen in love with them. I am always looking for more structure. Perhaps I miss the tannins. Unsure.
I was just in that kind of mood and called the reservation line at the Fat Duck. It’s Christmas time, was I mad. Apparently not, I got myself onto the cancellation list. Two days later and bingo. We were in for lunch. It’s a bit of a whirlwind from herein, and it went like this:
Up at the usual time. Train from Paddington to Bray. Taxi to the restaurant. And still, we managed to turn up just a tad too early. Now Bray isn’t a large place. It’s a tiny little village made up of the Fat Duck, a few cottages, the Hinds Head (Heston, again), a few dog walkers and a postman. 12 noon on the dot we entered. Ha, and we weren’t the first.
Jackets and winter paraphernalia off. Seated.
It starts.
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A trolley arrives.
A selection of Tattinger champagnes is offered. Having focused on Chardonnay based shampers for a short while now, the choice was obvious. The Taittinger Comtes de Champagne Blanc de Blancs Brut 1996. Wonderful. Small bubbles and a great taste. Encore, I couldn’t resist.
We nibbled on Picholine olives and bread whilst perusing the menu. For sure, we’re opting for the tasting menu. Bring it on.
Before the meal starts, mr. waiter arrives to prepare our palettes. Nitro-green tea and lime mousse. A small bite-size macaroon prepared in liquid nitrogen. Perfect meringue shape. Pop. Fresh. Dry. Umm.
Now rid of all those nasty City pollutants (smoke, perfume, smelly trains, subway sandwiches etc.), our palettes are prepared.
Oyster, passion fruit jelly and lavender. I remain befuddled as to why the oyster was cut 1/3 2/3. We didn’t ask and no-one explained.
Next up. Pommery grain mustard ice cream, red cabbage gazpacho.
Jelly of quail, langoustine cream, and parfait of foie gras. It sat on a bed of pea puree. The quail jelly was a rich consommé, but struggled to compete with the flavours of foie gras and langoustine.
Dish count: 4.
Oak moss and truffle toast. Odd.
Ah, and on the neighboring table I discovered a kindred spirit, the chef from my favorite restaurant. Well hello.
Up next is Heston’s signature dish, snail porridge. Snails, oats, fine Joselito ham and shaved fennel. The point here is you eat porridge for breakfast and associate it with something sweet. But it isn’t sweet. It’s simply a grain, so we eat it like you would rice and accompany it accordingly. It should be utterly delicious. Except, sorry Hessie the kitchen let you down, I thought it was overwhelmingly green, too much parsley.
Moving stealthily along. I sat back to enjoy my Vacqueryras Lopy, Le Sang des Cailloux, 2003. Oops we’re on again.
Prepare for the “Sounds of the Sea”. Two beautiful sea shells were placed in front of us. Those infamous white cables and black ear pieces handed to us. iPods. Indeed. Belting out of mine were the sounds of sea gulls and crashing waves against rocks. Delightful. And the food. Well, served on a glass sheet mounted over a glass fronted box containing sand. Seaweed, tapioca (presumed to represent sand), an oyster; sea water foam.
Separately, I enjoyed the oyster and seaweed. My companion quizzed if only we had a choice of seaside sounds, stating Brighton would have been his choice. I examined the iPod. No luck.
Cheekily, we put the shells to our ears, no luck; oddly, we heard sounds of chattering wafting through the restaurant and no gulls.
Dish count: 8
By the way, the waiting persons were perfect, if not mechanical and impersonal. Pity, as we had so many questions.
Salmon poached in liquorice. The plate was sprinkled with red grapefruit and dots of balsamic. A little too vigorous, and sadly a little too dried out. My companion’s salmon was overcooked, so I generously gave him some of mine. He was pleased. Very, very subtle liquorice disguised as a film around a block of salmon. Quite yummy.
Ballotine of Anjou pigeon. Black pudding “made to order” wow, I still remain puzzled at what this means. Pickling brine and spices juices. On top, a Chinese pigeon cracker. Wow. This was a very good dish. Rich flavours and excellent presentation, though I am still unsure about the black pudding (little texture or flavour).
Hot & iced tea. Soooo entertaining. Really hot tea on one side, cold on the other. I remarked to my companion it reminded me of my recent trip to the dentist. My lips were puffier on one side and not the other. Wonderfully odd, but pleasant sensation was had by all - that is, and of course in the restaurant, not the dentist chair.
Mrs Marshall’s Margaret Cornet. We were given a leaflet about Mrs Marshall. I didn’t retain any of the information which I now recall would help as background stuff on the dish. It seems irrelevant now as at the time. Small sugared cornets with apple ice-cream on top. Pleasant.
And so was the Chateauneuf de Pape, Domaine de Beaurenard 2006.
Dish count: 12
Mr. Waiter arrives again; we clearly need our palettes cleansed again. Oh, what’s up afterwards.
Pine sherbet fountain. Picture lemon sherbet dips with liquorice. Fat Duck’s own, except we were told the liquorice was instead a dried vanilla pod and not to be eaten. Pity.
Up next, a mango Douglas fir puree. Bavarois of lychee & mango, black currant sorbet. He seems to have a penchant for trees!
Parsnip cereal. Now this is where it gets oddly odd. Not because it’s a cereal, I’ve had it before. It’s the behaviour of the waiting staff which is odd. Suddenly, after swiftly clearing the way for this dish, they simply say “now its breakfast time” – how unoriginal and out of context is that. I felt like I was on the redeye back from New York. Extraordinary.
Nitro-scrambled egg and bacon ice cream. Pain perdu and tea jelly. So they continue the breakfast theme, which is fine and reinforces my airline experience. The liquid nitrogen is brought out again. An egg (one assumes egg custard) is cracked into a bucket and becomes ice cream after some vigorous activity with liquid nitrogen. Then placed onto a brioche style slice of toast with a wafer thin slice of pancetta. Wonderful. Great idea and presentation.
Dish count: 15
At this stage I needed some cheeses. I noticed my favorite restaurant chef on the neighboring table had ordered outside of the tasting menu. I followed suit. I chose Chaouorce. Yummy.
Whisk(e)y gums. Presented on a mirrored glass picture frame. I wasn’t so impressed. The gums were filled with a whiskey from an assortment of Scottish and Tennessee types. Whilst I understand the appreciation of whisky, I am not a devotee of it myself.
Petit fours & coffees.
It was after 5pm. Taxi ordered.
Of all the restaurants I have patronized and last to leave, I have seen chairs placed on tables, lights out and total darkness, never have I seen table clothes ironed for the next seating. Memorable.
Taxi. Train from Bray to Paddington. Sleep. Home.
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