Wine Over Matter

How do you know if you're really stone bonkingly tired? For me, the answer is that I become easily obsessed with unimportant things. With the work for law school mounting up each week and the minor influence of sleep deprivation, my unconscious mind seems to have tuned itself to the task of producing the perfect ommlette.

The fluffy style with the whipped egg whites folded into the yolks is no problem. What I'm trying to work out is how to produce a non-rubbery, still 'scramble-eggy' style masterpiece. With practice, it is getting better. This Monday's was actually enjoyable rather than just edible.

K's non-stick Le Creuset pan is a good piece of kit. Start on the hob then flash it under the grill. It works. And yet, I'm not satisfied with what I'm making. It's only a B- at best.

Deep down I suppose that (at least on an unconscious level) that my making an A+ ommlette will mean that everything in the world will be right and my life fulfilled. Who knows.

Should the primo ommlette ever be produced then I will be sure to update you on the more existential side of the equation.

The last few weeks have been a bit of a culture shock. My waking hours seem to have been taken over by ever growing piles of paper from the GDL course (Graduate Diploma of Law). There are so many materials to printout each week that it often feels like I'm doing an apprenticeship at a reprographics company.

There is no getting away from the fact that the GDL is a 'crammer'. Much of it is very interesting but it's hard to take that much information in on a fast-motion, whistle-stop bus tour.

One day I may summon up the courage to actually go to the toilet at college. The danger of missing some important tit-bit for the exams is an on-going deterrent however.

K. and I went to a surprisingly average wine tasting last night. Our impression was that little of it was worth the price. Still, it's always nice to be invited.

The meal at the Gay Hussar (old Soho institution) afterwards more than compensated for the winey misadventure. 'strange being there without John, my dad who died 18 months ago. In a way though, I felt very close to him during the meal. Perhaps it's more accurate to say, my memories of him.

It's funny, but I've been recently visiting the old places John and I used to meet in London. Times change and it's no use trying to recreate the past. Yet, I sometimes get the sense, when I am in a very 'John' place that he is holding court in the room there: somewhere in the past.

Sometimes a song or a piece of work you've been trying to learn will fling around your mind when you are trying to get to sleep some night. Perhaps it's 'persistance of sound'. Maybe you get with certain people in certain places too.

Sometimes the search for a wine can imitate the search of life's meaning. Take for example, Montirius Gigondas Cuvee Confidentiel. I know it exists and yet somehow it is, more or less, unobtainable (at least in UKland):

Them: I'm sorry Sir, we don't have it. Even if we did then you'd have to buy a case.

Me: No, no! I don't want to sign over my life to the bloody thing. It's just a couple of
bottles I want really. You know: the Alpha Course rather than the full baptism.

Life does not seem to favour the person who wants just a small amount of something to eat or drink. There seem to be a large number of restaurants in London these days who only offer 250 ml glasses of vino. That's a third of a bottle and it's usually some over-ripe, super-high alcohol, watery 'blockbuster'. Death by cheapo 15.5% Shiraz is not a fate I'd choose (particularly in mixed company).

Just when you think you know you're neighborhood, something unexpected happens. It could be falling down a manhole or even bumping into a flasher. In this case it was finding some rather tasty wild mushrooms in a tiny wooded field. Fungi anoraks may like to know that they were Bay Boletes.

Living in Czech Republic taught me a bit about mycology. Dying from 'musher poisoning' and lashing around in the throws of liver failure is still obviously a major concern. What works for me is only picking what I know and then spending a good half an hour with a couple of reference books, just to make sure.

You will (I hope) have noticed that WOM has been slightly revamped. This is largely because:

a.) No one has been able to leave comments for about six months

and

b.) Andy's blog seemed to work pretty well, so why can't mine?

Decanter

The new issue of Decanter wine magazine arrived today. Is it just me, or aren't their World Wine Awards rather tedious? The review aspect of it isn't bad but what about the great wines that weren't entered? Are they now somehow not great?

and finally...

K and I saw a mad exhibition in Vancouver by an artist called Zhang Huan. His 'meat suit' was really one of the most memorable things I've seen all year. Click here to see what I mean.

You see!

Lastly, my new gag:

Patient: Doctor Doctor, I think I'm turning into a USB device!
Doc: Big deal. Join the hub.

This time two weeks ago I was having a ball (okay, a nine course tasting menu) at The French Laundry with K. Today I found myself working with a complete eeejit in a retail store. The great thing about folk like this though is they can often be inspirational. By the end of the shift I had come up with the following thoughts:

Is purgatory the new hell?

Is working in this establishment some elaborate form of self-destruction?

Is 'oblivion seeker' a recognised hobby?

On the upside, Andy has started doing his blog and, on my arrival home, K. had made some groovy crab cakes. Life can't be that bad then...

We had Mck round for dinner on Saturday, so it was off to Wimbledon Park Farmers' Market in the morning. Unpastuerised milk, rhubarb crumble shortbread and an Aylesbury duck were the highlight purchases.

The flavour of the Aylesbury was more subtle than anything I've had before. The meat was so succulent. Lovely.

The process of roasting the rare breed birdy was not exactly what I expected. At first there was the normal gush of duck fat in the roasting tin. After about an hour and a half it stopped though, almost completely. I was expecting the usual fat festival but it was not to be.

The three of us made short work of the carcass. It was crispy skin galore (the duck not us) and top notch, lightly gamey meat. Some Oregon Pinot Noir (thanks Owen) and our last bottle of Rochiolli provided the liquid refreshment.

Eating the Aylesbury brought it home to me how much meat has been messed around with. 'kind of like most things left purely in the hands of market forces really.

We bought our Aylesbury Duck from Manor Farm Game. They are supplied by Richard Waller's farm. He is, I think, the only remaining breeder of them in the UK.

So, being too fat can damage sperm. And all this time I’ve been cutting down on wine! I feel such a fool.

But seriously… K and I have not managed to reproduce yet. The fact that this may may be due to my ‘not so super’ size is disheartening, to say the least. The problem is that it kind of makes sense though. Surplus weight around the legs heating up the old goolies and turning my sperm into a useless band of mutant, two headed wasters.

Did that eighth fresh cream apple turnover cost me a sprog and heir? It just could be.

Last night I helped out at a community event near me. Once everything was done, tents put up, etc, it was time to kick back. Things became a bit sticky at that point.

One thing that I'm really hopeless at is mixing/mingling with a group of completely new people with whom I have precious little in common. What exactly am I supposed to say or do in situations like that? Focussed tasks, okay. "Hello Blah Blah, this is Steve", okay. Aimlessly wondering around vaguely looking for some social contact: nooooooooooooooooooooo!

It's a dyspraxic thing that I've never been ever to really deal with. Every now and again, an event comes along and I think: "Come on mate. It'll be fine." Oh no it won't. Oh no it wasn't.

Do you know that it is still possible to contribute funds to Hilary Clinton's campaign? Or should that be campaign debt? I hate to think what she'll be compelled to charge for future public speaking bookings. In order to pay off her considerable tab, I imagine not an insignificant sum.

The more I see of one old tenant of the Oval Office, the more he reminds me of the goings on in Tolkien’s Lord Of The Rings saga. There, any character that wore the famed all powerful ring was forever changed. Post-ring they came across as desperate and grasping, unable to come to terms with their renewed status as mere mortals. Golum would be the most extreme of this. However, even more likeable characters like Bilbo Baggins and Frodo showed some of the downside of absolute power when their time came to give up office. That is, one day you have to give it up.

Bill Clinton does seem to realise that he is no longer Commander In chief. Yet, during his wife's campaign for the Democratic nomination, I could not help but get the impression that somehow a distant scent of "The Ring"" had been picked up by the comparatively recent ex-president.

Could it be that keeping Bill in the public eye has cost Hilary the opportunity to compete for the ultimate prize? Indeed, will she ever now stand a chance of actually baring the ring herself one day?

For the record: did Frodo regret taking Golum on the trip to Mordor?

If the Burma crisis is getting you down, or (heaven forbid) you feel that the Mugabe magic is wearing thin then there may be a solution. A Big Brother despot special, of course!

Just imagine it... Kim Jog-Il, Saudia Arabia's King Abdullah, Hu Jintau, etc all stuck together in "The Big Brother house". The prize: worldwide diplomatic immunity.

Day 3. Bob is in the kitchen. He is having an argument with Omar (Al-Bashir) about the washing up. "Now Omar: that is just the kind of remark I'd expect to come from fascist homosexual colonialists. Are you sure that you are not British!?"

Day 12. Hu Jintao is in the diary room. On Friday, the rest of the house told Hu that they did not think his idea for a musical based on the Glorious life of Deng Xiaoping would help them to win this week's challenge. "These are savages who know nothing of honour!"

Day 23. Than (Shwe) has been working for three hours preparing a surprise barbeque for all five of his other housemates. Bob, angry with Than over an arguement about the state of the bathroom, has found out about it. As revenge, Bob has just shared his prize from last week's challenge (a beach banquet) with Kim, Abdullah, Isayas and Hu. Than was too busy outside to notice.