Eating for Dumfries and Galloway

I have been trying this crazy experiment for a week, attempting to eat only food grown or produced in Dumfries and Galloway, the region where I live. It might have been easy for those who like meat and two veg for their evening meal every day. For a Scottish-Italian who loves his pasta it has been a bit of a nightmare.

The nice thing, however, has been going into little shops and farmers markets. Places where the conversation amounts to something more than "Would you like help with your packing?" followed by 59 beeps from a cash-register and then "Would you like cashback?".

The food DOES, by and large, taste better. Once you get over your fear of a big slab of meat or a fish tail or some such that doesn't come pre-packed in clingfilm it is actually quite nice. You feel a bit like a hunter-gatherer of old.

Still, be glad to get back to the pasta...

I grow old, I grow old. I shall wear my trousers rolled...

It is Thursday, therefore I shall go out. I sped back from a scriptwriting course just to meet my friends for a good meal. It was a Chinese. Should I, as an Italo-Scot feel ashamed? Should I shun the noodle and the fried rice?

Most importantly, can I admit my love of Chinese food is largely due to the woman pictured above? Ching He Huang has made the cuisine both fashionable AND sexy. Something which has largely failed most people. Except, perhaps, Nigella when she talked about Italian food and nipped down to the fridge for extra dessert in her dressing gown in the middle of the night.

Oh lord, I am an old fool...

PS. We had a platter of ribs, seaweed, spring rolls, chicken wings and satay skewers followed by sweet and sour chicken, crispy beef and duck in a chilli sauce. Heaven.

Hurrah! And then not hurrah!

I have been away from this blog too long. I realise it is one I can only turn to in my hour of need. Or, when I read a story like this...

Could it be that grappa comes full circle? Remember the old brew they used to offer you with a rag in the top and watch your face for a reaction when you drank it? Well, apparently they want to make it legal.

The mind, quite rightly, boggles.

I can picture it now - Acquavita dal bagno di Ginkers, Grappa Cucina di Martino or even Spirito di Cencio! Heck, any fool would be looking to brew their own. Now where are those grapes the kids just threw away...

Grappa goes legit?

I was sitting down with the wife the other night wondering what to watch on television. The kids were safely tucked up in bed, a nice meal consumed, it was time for some mild entertainment.

And what better than the tried and tested format of Mastermind? There were a couple of decent specialised subjects (The Godfather Trilogy and something else which I have forgotten). And you can always get a few general knowledge answers.

But there, in the grand final, the programme's crowning glory, what did I hear? A question about my favourite drink! "What do you call the Italian liqueur made up of all the old guff left over after wine-making?" asked the quiz meister. I nearly choked on my post-prandial espresso.

Ah, that it has come to this. What next - Oz Clarke and James May's Grappa Tour?

Go on, give the kids a treat

It is nearly Easter so why not look at a sweet treat for the kids? But this year, forgot all the chocolate eggs - give them doughnuts instead. I like to think I have found the perfect ones here!

Can you imagine the fun you could have with these little beauties? I bet you will never have such a peaceful Easter Sunday as the children snore away the afternoon...

That it should come to this!

The headline sent a chill down my spine...

"More bikies charged over grappa shooting!"

That the nights out with the boys should come to this!

http://news.theage.com.au/more-bikies-charged-over-grappa-shooting/20080208-1r2q.html

Co-author finds fame?

What is this I see before me? Under a thinly-veiled pen-name have I caught my co-author entering the world of novel writing?

Surely he would have used a less obvious nom-de-plume? And yet listen to the plot details and you will realise it has his fingerprints all over it.

"The book follows Poppy Shannon as she goes from a spoilt little rich girl to a lose it all poor girl.

"The subject is a familiar one, but the way Reilly deals with it is not.

"Her (His) dialogue is the funniest ever - I have read most of her (his) books now - still trying to get my hands on Is This Love though.

"The book starts as Poppy's husband informs her that his business partner has run off with the company profits.

"He tells her that they have to sell their huge house, downsize and move to suburbia.

"For Poppy, who has lived in the best places all her life, this is a major shock."

Talk about writing what you know!!! Lived in the best places? Sounds like Leith to me!

Honey Grappa!

Grappa Honey? Now there's two words I'd like to hear Monica Bellucci whispering in my ear at the end of a meal!

However someone in Italy has came up with a different way of combining them. The above was an unwanted Christmas present for someone at work and being a generous soul and knowing that I partake of a grappa or two every now and then, he decided to pass it over to me.

Grappa Al Miele does sound like a strange combination but as it is only a miniature bottle I have to admit I'm intrigued enough to have a wee taste. Well, what have I got to lose? Although I did notice that the manufacturer is La Benedettina. My Italian isn't that great but is this something to do with Benedictan Monks?

Is this Italy's answer to Buckfast!!??

The bottle's on the table

There are sweet words on a night out which are a pleasure to hear. Perhaps the whisper of your loved one telling you how they feel. Possibly one of your dining partners saying they don't really like langoustine and could you finish their portion. But, above all, your host saying: "There's the grappa, I'll leave it on the table".

It was one of those nights on Thursday. A table for 12, some good friends down from Glasgow and a lot of old pals round a table. A mix of stupid football talk, memories of nights gone by and crude humour. A perfect combination - I am sure you would agree.

When the bottle landed on the table, it knew it was being consigned to history. With a dozen grappa drinkers round about what did you expect? All credit to our host for sacrificing a bottle to us. Although work was a bit slow the following day...

A pleasant parcel

I have recently been lucky enough to receive - whisper it - a Grappa Handbook! I hardly believed such a thing existed but those wonderful people at Nardini have produced one and, trust me, it does justice to my favourite drink.

One of its aims is to help raise the profile of grappa and get it more recognition for the quality drink it is. Amen to that, I say.

Among the sections are some recipes with grappa and a list of grappa cocktails. Normally I would be against this kind of thing and yet, to tell the truth, they looked quite good. I may share some recipes in future. I am intrigued to find out just how many are drinkable and what quantity it might be possible to consume them in.

Diaries on tour (again)

No posts for a few days but, be warned, when I get back there will be plenty of grappa to talk about. Please feel free to post all suggestions as to what grappas to buy for Christmas in my absence!

If I knew you were coming, I would bake a cake

I've never really thought much of baking. It seemed too much like science and not enough fun. Cooking, I love. But baking? No thank you.

However, thanks to a suggestion on this blog my inventive juices started to flow. Maybe there is a place for baking in my repertoire after all. Imagine my interest at stumbling across this recipe for, yes you read it right, strawberry, grappa and mascarpone fairy cakes.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/food/story/0,,2112324,00.html

Now, my old Nonno is probably pulling his baffi out from beyond the grave at the very thought. Bad enough to put fruit near grappa (A woman's drink, he might have said). But to add in mascarpone? And to call it a fairy cake?

You know what though, I might try to bake some. If I do, be sure you will see the results of my labour here. Remember not to feed them to the kids.

A brighter beat

A Thursday night out always has the power to make you feel more positive about the world. Good company, good food and bad alcohol make for a powerful mix. It was a Chinese edition this time with a huge platter of starters. Honestly, they would have been enough on their own.

As I remember there was squid, king prawn, satay chicken skewers, duck and pancakes, chicken wings and mussels. And maybe a few other things I have forgotten.

Our main course (did we really need it) was duck in a plum sauce, chicken with garlic and chilli, some kind of king prawn, fillet steak, and at least three other dishes I cannot even recall. Of course, there was no grappa moment - I was going to compare it to something rather filthy there but I think I shall refrain.

Still, a good night and a few brandies to finish things off. Of course, today at work was a "slow day" but, what the hell, I am used to it by now. Early to bed tonight old boy, early to bed tonight.

Old father time

I feel weary. I am struggling to muster up enthusiasm for anything - even grappa. I can only point the finger at one thing - parenthood.

Children are great, don't get me wrong. Just not all the time. Not 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year, etc. Well, they probably are great all that time. It's me that isn't.

Nobody really writes much to prepare a father for how his life will change with kids. One day you watch all the football you like, take long-weekends with your wife/girlfriend (ideally both at once) and go out to the cinema/restaurant/pub. The next twenty years or so - nothing.

Of course, of course the rewards are great but sometimes it seems like such hard work. Now is one of those times. I hope to turn that corner soon...

Grappa and the City

As you will no doubt know by now, I don't get out much. Certainly not beyond the confines of south west Scotland. Yes, it is true, I sometimes break free for Tuscany. Occasionally, I know, I seek island solace on the Isle of Cumbrae. But, by and large, as a father of two young children my forays into what normal people call "having a social life" are few and far between.

The times when that involves my wife are even fewer.

So, it was with great fear and trepidation that I ventured to Edinburgh at the weekend. It was, by my good lady's reckoning, the first time we had been away overnight as a couple sans enfants (how's that for pretentious?) in five years. Yes, you read that right, FIVE YEARS!

I was so convinced that this weekend would not actually happen that I did not pack my bags until the last minute. I knew, with every pessimistic bone my dear old Nonna put in my body, that one of my children would start coughing and wheezing and we would be unable to leave. I stayed up the night before we left, fully expecting to have to wrestle off an infant's duvet cover strewn with sick. So, when none of the above happened, I was in a state of delirious shock as we left for - the Capital.

My sister and brother-in-law travelled with us and we had a splendid time. A glass of wine with lunch at All Bar One gave that light-headed, floating-in-a-bubble feel to walking along Princes Street.

http://www.list.co.uk/place/100320-all-bar-one/

There was footballing entertainment, of sorts, as Hearts succumbed to Motherwell 3-1. Tragically, there was no pie to review here as they had sold out of all food! I ask you, this is a club with delusions of making it into Europe!

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/scot_prem/7051961.stm

Then, at night, dear sweet Librizzi. A favourite haunt of my co-auteur of the diaries, this is the place where they offer you a choice of grappa. The whole lovely meal - duck liver followed by monkfish in lemon and chilli - was but a preamble to this moment. "Chiara o scura?" the waiter asked. "Chiara! Chiara!" I almost belowed. He furnished me with three bottles from which I selected a Cabernet/Merlot mix. Fantastic, truly fantastic. My only gripe was that I spotted him using a measure to pour it out.

http://www.librizzi.co.uk/

There is a vaguely amusing postscript to this story which will certainly entertain any Edinburgher reader. We were staying very central, and decided to park in a big NCP car park just off Princes Street. It was busy when we arrived on Saturday but, laughed smart driver me, look how empty level 4 is! I swung into my parking space smugly and left the Grappa Diaries People Carrier (GDPC from here on) until the following morning.

Have you guessed the punchline? Perhaps not. This was the Omni Centre car park where, unknown to us country folk, they hold one of the biggest car boot sales in Edinburgh every Sunday from 9am to 1pm, guess where? On level 4!

http://news.scotsman.com/edinburgh.cfm?id=1523342006

We emerged with our cases into what I can only describe as my idea of hell on earth - even if I wasn't trying to wheel my luggage. The four of us bravely fought through but I had visions of us being stuck their forever (or at least until the afternoon) gazing forlornly at Neil Sedaka LPs and unwanted wedding presents. It was only good fortune that a kindly security person took pity on us - "Happens all the time," he smiled and limped up the down-ramp to set us free.

God bless you sire, whoever you were. You guided me from the depths of despair back to a semblance of sanity. Then it was back down the road to the children howling the house down. Ah, we must go away again some time soon. I've got a free weekend in 2012...

The Wall Street Guzzle

We knew, by now, that grappa had friends in high places but we never suspected quite how high. It now even features on the pages of the world-renowned Wall Street Journal.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB119101080352243003.html?mod=googlenews_wsj

A very good read, indeed. Particularly enjoyed the references to old-school grappa as a real man's drink and Hemingway's short story where our favourite beverage is involved. I must dig that one out.

Proof, if proof were needed, of the worldwide appeal which grappa now enjoys. And not before time...

Is it a crime, to drink white wine?

I have meditated on this for a while, which is highly unusual for me. But recently I have taken to supping white wine mostly as it is my wife's preference. And, I have to say, I have got a taste for it.

However, I always have the feeling there is something a little bit, how can I say, effeminate about drinking vino bianco. Why do I feel that way? It seems manly to order a bottle of Barbera but a bit girly to ask for a Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio?

Is there any basis to this in fact? Or am I prejudiced?

When it comes to grappa, of course, I am happy with anything that came from either the red or white wine varietals originally.

From Toscana to Lombardia

I recently undertook another pilgrimage to Italy, the land which gave us grappa. I was lucky enough to sample a few fine brews, in particular in the environs of my family's home village - as pictured. However, I also made the trip to Lombardy for the first time in maybe 20 years to sample what they had to offer.

My first day involved an early rise to catch a flight from Liverpool to Pisa and then on towards Barga. At Il Garfagnino we stopped for a nine euro lunch and a nice house vino bianco "frizzantino". Afterwards, still somewhat tired from the air travel, I still mustered a grappa chaser which was more than presentable. For more on the restaurant you can look here...

http://www.garfagnana-food.com/core.php?id=15

I found the service nice, fast and attentive. The food was unfussy and tasty. The surroundings were nice although the fact that I had just flown from Liverpool may have made it seem all the more glamourous. The sun was bright, we sat outside in shirt sleeves in September and all was right with the world.

Some might be a bit put off by the roadside location but, on the other hand, it made for a quick escape back up the road for a much-needed siesta.

A grappa shared

What is the point in having a grappa collection, I realised on Saturday, if you don't have anyone to share it with? My father spends so much time in Italy or, possibly, vowing never to drink the stuff again that it often rules him out. And sitting sampling a fine Brunello grappa on your own can be a sad experience.

So thank the Lord for the visit of a fellow grappa-holic at the weekend to take my collection project to a new level - namely, putting it into action. I think it stood the test pretty well. We warmed up with the Torba Rossa and laughed at its pretentious label. Did it give us peaks of pleasure? I'm not entirely sure.

Then we switched to the Sibona moscato which, despite its appearance as a hospital sample bottle, proved to go down a treat. Finally, we moved to the clear, sharp rasp of the Col d'Orcia Grappa di Brunello. By this stage, Zlatan Ibrahimovic had slammed in two goals for Inter against Empoli and I had also invented the Space Invader wine rack (patent pending).

Good grappa, good company, good times...

Let this be a warning

I have just finished reading an amazing story about a girl who suffered some kind of overdose after taking SEVEN double espressos. Now, even as a man who likes a coffee, I would stop short of such a quantity.

Indeed, I have never actually seen the point of a double espresso. In fact, I might go further and say that I have only ever seen it ordered by show-offs. You know the kind of people - I am so tough I can drink three coffees at 3am and still get a perfect night's sleep. Balls.

Anyway, apparently this poor girl was unaware she was drinking double measures. Mind you, I think even seven SINGLE espressos during a day would give you a bit of the shakes. I remember daring a friend to drink freshly ground coffee and he had the jitters for about 48 hours.

The main lesson, however, is clearly that such an exploit should not be undertaken without the obligatory espresso companion, a grappa. If the girl had taken a glass of our favourite tipple with each shot of coffee I am sure she would have been fine. Or, alternatively, she would have passed out until the effects of the espressos had gone. Or possibly passed out before she got to the seventh coffee...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/wear/6944026.stm