some exceptions

to five months of mostly unmemorable beverages.*

















* neither a comprehensive nor an ordered listing. japan was the anomaly: a mostly unnavigable sea of delicious and drinkable novelty. ultra-low-alcohol cocktails that abandon the bitters model of flavouring in favour of amino acid savouriness, a profusion of what might be thought of as low-intervention terroir sakes, an entire world of umeshu.

bombax ceiba

a sour curry of bombax ceiba inflorescences*, tomatoes, turmeric, cilantro root, cooked pork blood, steamed spare ribs, and dry roasted chilies, with thin vermicelli made from lactofermented rice. even the faint of heart will find this dish comforting and palatable. moreover, the lotus of siam is one of the few places in the country where getting something by the glass isn't always a pyrrhic victory. (j.j. prüm, graacher himmelreich kabinett, 2008.)

* which were not visible. these things—like religion—sometimes must be taken on faith, trusting in the word of the waitstaff. B. ceiba is part of the same genus of plants that we also call kapok.

patogh

big bread, grilled lamb, mint, and riesling.

drinking high and low

the beck's you already know about for its quenching quality and sweet malty lageriness. the 2004 vintage of martin müllen's krover letterlay spätlese riesling is what's currently available on the UK* retail market and is considerably less expensive than numerous rieslings that are significantly less delightful. it is thoroughly mosel in the nose—delicately ripe peaches—round and substantial, yet light in the mouth and with apparent (but i think almost no actual) sweetness. when unpacking, it is critical to remain thoroughly hydrated in order to not become disoriented among the mountains of newsprint.

* i've moved to london, fyi. and the müllen wines are only available in london through david motion's quite fine wine store, the winery, located conveniently close by.

the right order

despite the FAA sequester, we managed to converge on the lotus of siam for lunch on friday and i managed to order just enough food.

outstanding: fried dried beef (nua dad deaw), a uniquely textured and tenderly fibrous dish of wok-cooked pounded jackfruit and pork (thum-ka-noon), and a warm salad of fermented sausage and fried rice (nam kao tod).

late in the game, after the lunch crowd had dispersed, we really splashed out. the scholium project's nutty blend of cabernet, merlot, and petite sirah from separate vineyards (the 2005 "satrapies of the east") needed more air than we had time to give it. it was tangy and vibrating but quiet and reflective nonetheless; lighter-seeming than its 15% of alcohol. filled with dark purple fruit and plenty of tannins still, a wondrous, confusing silk purse made from a sow's ear.

all roads

it is my too-infrequent good fortune to be invited to home-cooked dinners with Pyrrhic guest lists, the kind filled with people whose discernment and taste are a source of pleasure and knowledge but are, by the same token, so refined that any attempt to contribute something to the table is an endeavour perilous to the ego. on these occasions, i sit in the corner taking notes, harmless, my ethnographic field training serving me well.

these are lovers of wine and the generous table who have been drinking widely, wisely, and secreting things away in their cellars for decades. tuesday night's table—small and richer than usual in fellow convivialists—was conducive to each person bringing interesting, delicious bottles, sometimes bottles quite a bit older than anyone without a cellar or an inheritance gets to drink. a magnum of bouzy champagne grower camille savès's carte blanche, a leoville-barton (1989), a pauillac (i forget the producer) from 1975, a hochheimer domdechaney riesling (1993), two rieslings from the late 1970s, a clos des couchereaux from jadot (1996, and with some years left in the bottle yet), and an unusual botrytised gruner veltliner from knoll (2004). i think a 2004 rebholz weissburgunder from im sonnenschein. there were others too.

over dinner, this country mouse pondered the opinion, voiced by some (though not many at the table), that "all roads lead to bordeaux." the leoville-barton was quite beautiful and surprisingly austere, with the characteristic green hatch chile fragrance; the pauillac was rich, soft, velvety, but with grip and power. contradictions are one source of complexity. you can see why captains of industry drink this stuff.

but: is bordeaux the telos of wine? maybe it's a matter of time but not for me, now. that clear, austere, cool burgundy, even before it finally opened up in the dregs of the bottle at the end of the night, was the one i poured myself when all eyes were on the potatoes. they were very good potatoes.

not-so-old riesling

i'd just come back from turkey by way of a 10-hour delay in vienna airport, whose only saving grace is widely available wifi, so robust, simple food was indicated. we spent a quiet afternoon with a relatively ancient, unctuous, oxidized italian riesling, marble counters, and lightly cooked beans. the riesling was rich in the way of old whites, flowery but austere, dark in the glass. jp (newly at haus alpenz) plucked this off the otto list by the simple expedient of choosing "the oldest bottle that won't require a second mortgage." it's always nice to drink with a pro.

kastanienbusch

a month ago, i was lucky to drink a glass of birkweiler kastanienbusch riesling from oekonomierat rebholz. the wine smelt of a first-brew high-grown oolong tea (white flowers, green tannins, leaves) and was evanescent but not transient. it stayed around for a while, like a white stone unfolding slowly in many directions. there was too much talking around the table; this wine requires silence and a notebook.

some wines have a power and presence that derives from no apparent source, magical stuff of a lightness that constantly evades capture. it is true, what they say, that civilization is weightless.