Here is a classic summer and foodie white wine from Austria:
Grűner Veltliner “Rosenberg” 2010 Anton Bauer at £ 17.50 per Bottle
I had yet another bottle of this last night, just to chart its progress of course. Perfect touch at the end of a pretty sweaty summer’s day.
Wonderful, rich texture that just coats the inside of the mouth. Good on its own but adept with all things spicy and oily.
That split second of sweetness that one invariably gets from Alsace and Austrian whites but then giving way to a more serious and overtly minerally white.
A little zest of acidity on the finish to keep it fresh. Also, a not too hefty 12½% alcohol level.
In stock. In the fridge. Available in half-cases of six bottles.
Wine news
We have delayed the shipping of the Jean Daneel “Signature” Chenin Blanc 2010 as unfortunately his son Jean-Pierre (who we deal with) had a car accident. That seems to be a daily thing in the Cape. Fortunately he is on the mend and today has been his first contact since the accident.
This wine will drink immediately but age for a good 8 or so years so there certainly is no rush. We wish Jean-Pierre a speedy recovery and back to 100% as soon as possible. Any nice words about his and his father’s Chenin I can pass on, might cheer him up.
Weekly indulgence:
Gosset Rosé Champagne at £ 93.50 per Magnum
(& in gift boxes)
(Typically £ 105.00)
In stock in a few days.
Silly-season.
Well, it is August so justifiably the silly-season.
“India playing Cricket” - Much written and much said but me thinks Atherton’s assertive stance, though within the rules, is perhaps not accurately directed. Aside of technicalities, gestures, the well-established Laws-of-Cricket etc., one facet appears to have been overlooked. When a fielder crumples in a heap over the boundary rope only to discover the ball is still in play they would and do, scramble at haste to retrieve and wing in a throw to the wicketkeeper. This fielder did to the contrary. With total dejection he ambled painfully slowly to belatedly pick-up the ball and then returned it towards the stumps, himself giving the clear impression that a boundary had been scored. Though the ball was live and though the over and or “time” had not yet been called it would have been deceptive of that outfielder if his team had enforced Bell’s wicket in these conditions. It might have been legal to do so as neither the umpire or fielder had actually signaled a boundary but his actions suggested it had so it would definitely not have been in the spirit of the game. So skipper M.S.Dhoni’s decision was I feel a correct one but not exactly for the plethora of reasons thus far offered. Athers, calm down dear boy! Having got out on 159 Bell missed a trick where he perhaps should have turned round to Dhoni behind the stumps and shaken his hand as a perfectly timed public acknowledgement of Dhoni’s original generosity.
With one of the most eagerly awaited openings for a film I had heard much good of Hasta La Vista Harry Potter. I went to see it last week but in truth I thought it was utter tosh. The first half-an-hour was just a cobbled together, budget, confused non-entity. The beefier middle part was a regurgitation of the usual computer tricks we have seen, er, six times before. The ending, however, was quite surreal. As the heroes were packing off their little sprogs to Hogwarts, every single one was a red head. An in-joke probably but I really was half expecting Chris Evans and Rebekah Brooks to jump out and say boo! Very odd. As slow as Potter might at least be fast, the 1948 Ealing Cinema film “Whisky Galore” is being re-released in the next week. They’ll be more charm in that for sure. If you haven’t seen in, do.
I have to say I’d be more than wee bit daunted pitching in front of those unlovlies that call themselves “Dragon’s Den”. But streuth, have you seen the new kid on the block? She makes Margaret Thatcher and Sir Tate & Lyle look like a couple of Girl Guides. Hilary Devey is her name. I suppose as a lady on her own opening a haulage firm in Yorkshire, you perhaps need to have granite beneath those padded shoulders. Still, scarier than anything I have seen on Doctor Who.
Amidst the obvious burden that David Cameron must be impaled upon right now with the Euro; the Dollar; Sterling, pretty much everything, I have to give him some credit. If I can use that word. A couple of months back I wrote to Downing Street with a sporting and awards suggestion and he has just replied. A few weeks before that I wrote to our illustrious local Council, RBK&C, and making a couple of, I thought, worthwhile suggestions involving the Holland Park School and the looming Olympics. This was copied to all fifty-two Councillors. Apart from one reply from a Labour Councilor to say “sorry, you are not in my Ward” and another from a Conservative Councilor to say “sorry, I is skiing in America” – nothing. I voted in the last General Election but deliberately not so in my Local Elections. I wonder if the News of the World told them?!
Is it just me or why don’t Smarties taste as good as they used to?! Maybe I am getting old and losing my taste buds. Speaking of getting old. I went to see Kasabian last week up at The Roundhouse in Camden. Nearly half-a-life since I was last in Camden Town and I remembered to dress the part (black trousers). Sobering to think Amy Winehouse made her last guest appearance there just a few days back. Halfway through I found myself having a widdle next to Noel Gallagher. Whilst the surrounding dolly birds duly snapped their mobile phones I winged a text to a 20 year old girl and said that I had been widdling next to Noel Gallagher. Her response was, “what is widdling and who the hell is Noel Gallagher?” Suddenly feeling very old I told her to ask her Mother! And I’m older than our P.M.! Mid-life crisis.
Henry is in Mar-Bella and back next Monday.
Tuggy
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