Amongst the dark satanic mills of Halifax, West Yorkshire, there are indeed some green and pleasant pastures, and nestling in the hills we found Shibden Mill Inn. We once stopped for a quick Sunday lunch on a walking expedition and vowed to go back. On 1 March, Fred had just picked up a brand new Mini Cooper, so a drive out to somewhere remote seemed appropriate.
Two intertwined themes have weaved their antithetical spell through this weblog. The positive one is my undying love of (well, admiration for) Malbec, especially from Argentina. The negative, is my ongoing apprehension of the capability of Costco to buy, store, and sell decent wines.
Tonight I am brewing a cauldron full of controversy by mixing a finger of Malbec with leg of Costco, eye of newt and toe of frog. Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble…..
If the Wolseley is the best restaurant in London, then what about the provinces? Leeds, for example, has a proud tradition of brewing beer, staffing call centres, building the world’s first Dalek shaped skyscraper, and breeding people who say “eeh bah gum!”. So surely not a place for fine dining then?
I’ve been most impressed by nearly all the Wine Society’s own brand wines. Then I saw this bottle by “Hand of God” which seems to be ripping off the Wine Society’s brand – I had to investigate.
Inspired by my happy experience of Faldeos Nevados Argentinean Chardonnay, I was moved (but not in the intestinal sense) to try another. Oops…
Our money pit has had a leak for years. It’s not pleasant when water pours in to two of the bedrooms. It’s also expensive, and many ££££s have left the bank account trying to find a fix. We are making a final bid to cure the leak with a swimming pool like construction that has involved rebuilding most of the flat roof above the bedrooms. We use this roof as a balcony, half open and half conservatory. It’s a beautiful feature of the house and worth trying to improve no matter the cost, and no matter that the beautiful travertine floor must be ripped out.
Meanwhile in my wine rack, Argie wine keeps getting better and better and it is far from costly. This is the third one I have tried by the hand of Susana Balbo, under the Faldeos Nevados brand which, as far as I can tell, is exclusive to the Wine Society in the UK.
Virgin is a brand I associate with innocence, inexperience and ineptitude. Only joking. It’s more about customer service, keen price and reasonable quality. Except for Virgin Rail of course. Those of you to have had the misfortune of travelling from Manchester to London on the Virgin service have my sympathy.
Anyone got an update on Diego Maradona? Regular readers know that I hate the Argies with a passion normally reserved for mindless football thugs. However, when it comes to wine I try to make allowances, and it just so happens that my thuggery dissipates faster than the bubbles in a bottle of cava, once an open bottle of Argentinean wine is placed on the table.
I love the Faldeos Nevados Malbec, so I really should have tried the Bonarda from the same producer earlier than this. Bonarda, is not, although it sounds so, the name of an Italian porn star, but an indigenous grape of the cheating football nation. Albeit not the cheating football nation that brought you the Mano de Dios, it originated in Italy! Enough of the football insults, what was the wine like?
A letter arrived. Not an email. Not a text message. Not even a telegram or a greeting card. A letter, hand written, addressed to me, and delivered to the office.
Of course, I remember the days before this eloquent and pulchritudinous form of communication was rudely re-branded snail mail. Nowadays, I have to admit that I cannot recollect the last time I received a hand written letter. This particular letter resulted in an uncommon sequence of events that lead me to Tingewick, a pretty country village in Buckinghamshire.
Tingewick, close to the intersection of the three counties of Bucks, Northants, and Oxon, is an architectural melting pot. 16th century thatched cottages huddle awkwardly next to 1940’s council houses like new kids meeting at school. Grand mansions look down on their tiny peers who appear to doff their tiled roofs in deference. Residents include a well known rock guitarist, a lottery winner, and my estranged Godmother.
Following recent accusations that GCSE’s and A Levels are being dumbed down, I can reveal that a new education scandal has just emerged. University Challenge questions are getting easier! I can prove it. My average score is two correct answers per episode and tonight I scored nine! A personal best!
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