Birds

Hello today.

I thought to share this with you, kind and patient reader. 'Tis a sketch I did in '97 whilst watching my khalehs (phonetic Farsi for 'aunties') having their pre-wedding hair done en-mass in a LA hairdressers. It is to amend for the sombre conclusion of the last. And for not doing more gardening!

Interlude over, it's back to my fences I go...

Happy Birthday, Mr Golding

William Golding, had he not passed away in 1993, would have turned 100 years of age this Monday. Raising a glass or two to his good name left me feeling somewhat nostalgic and prompted this belated post-birthday post.

Lord of the Flies is the book that did it, the book that hooked me on literature. It first came into my life when I was 10, when the onset of puberty forced me to declare myself 'bored' on a routine family holiday in the South of France. Pity me not. I was a spoilt child. I had no good reason to be bored. There was a pool. There were people. But it was the same pool, the same people, and on my flat chest two breasts were growing that I was unprepared for and disgruntled to show, having up to then believed I was a boy. So sulk I did, with hunched shoulders and an extra large T on, responding only in monosyllables for effect.

Mother was having none of it. 'Read a book', she said. And then, 'Read this. It is one of mine'. Up to this point, I was already an avid reader, but not a 'proper' reader per se. I had read books, many many of them, but never truly engaged, never shut one speechless, or with tears in my eyes. Little wonder. Up until the summer of '86, my life in books had progressed from Hans Christian Anderson and The Brothers Grimm to the likes of The Exorcist, Amityville Horror and Sweet Valley High (I had well over 100), which once read I would toss into the corner atop of countless Nancy Drews, my cousin's Mills and Boons, and Judy Blume's Forever... 

Having nothing better to do, I read Lord of the Flies cover to cover. I spoke to no one, ate not, slept not. And when I came to the end, I read it over again, this time slower, to be sure I had read it right. The island, the glamour, the friendships, the rivalries, the violence, the deaths. Forget Ballantyne or The Beach. This was the first time I had read a book that had, for want of a better word, changed me somehow. 

My mother read it first when 16 years of age. She had come to London from Tehran in the 70s and enrolled into a private college on Shaftesbury Avenue for foreigners to study English Literature. It was on her syllabus and she purchased the text in Kilburn where she was renting a flat at the time. Her handwritten notes, indecipherable to me, make this beaten paperback priceless. It is well thumbed and tentatively held together by yellowing, brittle selloptape. It has its own smell and has travelled across continents. It has also been underlined throughout in various coloured biro, so I can retrace my mother's steps, and seek out the passages she once paused at.

So it is not just Golding's story, so simply told, that has hold of me. The allure also lies in the physical copy of the faded Faber edition that was passed on that day. It is a relic. I cherish it and reread parts of it every year now. I am 35 years old and don't intend to give up the habit.

I can't pretend to have a favourite passage, but I do chuckle when I read chapter 3, which, after 10 years of marriage, I have privately renamed 'The Divorce'. On a recent pilgrimage across its pages, I went not to the 3rd chapter, but the 9th: A View to a Death. It contains a fascinating moment in the story where Ralph and Piggy, 'under the threat of the sky' find themselves 'eager to take a place' in Jack's 'demented but partly secure society'. It got me thinking that of all the opinions bandied about on the recent London riots, I would have given more than a penny for Golding's thoughts. Those regretful events would not have baffled him at all. As Golding admits in his essay What Turns Children Into Savages?, '[o]ld men perhaps are hard to surprise'. But had he lived to receive a letter from the Queen, he would have been perfectly placed to comment on the chaos and terror that coloured those August nights, understanding, as he modestly put it, 'certain things about cruelty' and the 'conditions in which cruelty flourishes'. It is a fascinating essay. Do find it on the internet. Do.

On the subject of whether we are born with cruelty as a 'deep component' of our nature, or as a 'blank slate' upon which 'the harshness of experience soon prints its indelible and frightening patterns', Golding doesn't pretend to have the answer. Only his 'truth': that both components are equally important. He imagines, in this essay, that many 'modern childhoods must be sheer horror'. And, sadly, I believe him. He also states; 'I believe all attempts to answer these great questions are doomed to end in doubt and confusion. I leave them to psychologists and prophets. I can only speak as a man who has lived long'.

O what I would give to get my hands on those unpublished novels, two autobiographical works and two million-word journal that are archived away.

O had he lived longer.

Happy Birthday Mr Golding.
Happy Birthday to you.

Rioja

Dear intrepid traveller, worldly wine-guzzler, friend, a word of advice. If you, as we did, plan to visit the bodegas of Rioja as recommended in The World Atlas of Wine, be told that the top producers are hard to visit unless by prior appointment. The majority do not open to the public at all. Tour spaces are limited, and English ones less frequent than you may imagine. And if your name's not down, there really isn't a hope in hell that you'll get in. Unless you are extraordinarily persistent. And that only sometimes works.

We practically had to force our way into Ysios. They wouldn't open up, no matter how hard we knocked. Luckily a delivery of clean linens arrived which they had to admit, so I kept the door open with foot until admittance was granted. The humiliation was worth it. The Ysios 2005 Reserva was very good, and they taste it by the large glass full. By the by, 2001 and 2005 are considered 'great years' in Rioja.

After much deliberation I have split La Rioja into 5 separate posts:

Haro, 29th June & Batallo del Vino

Bodegas Fernando Remirez de Ganuza, followed by Lunch at Restaurant Alameda

Hotel Viura, Bodega Remelluri & Lunch at Casa Arino, Labastida

Bodega Abel Mendoza Monge, & Casa Toni

Wine Therapy at Gehry's Hotel Marques de Riscal, Elciego

Once you are done, you can return to the main Northern Spain menu here (which will enable you to skip to other places of interest), or go directly to our next stop on route, Lerma here (shortly coming).

Wine Therapy at Gehry's Hotel Marques de Riscal, Elciego

Sometimes an inconvenience turns out to be a blessing in disguise. When we arrived at Hotel Marques de Riscal, we were told that the guests occupying our room were late checking out. At that point, 'our room' was Rm 16. Because of their tardiness, we were given Rm 1 (effectively moving us from the Spa Wing to the Gehry Wing) and 2 complimentary glasses of wine. Brilliant.

Rm 1 did not disappoint. The view was fabulous, and I would hazard to guess, one of the better ones the hotel affords. We had a smooch to celebrate our good fortune but almost jumped out of our skin when we realised we were not alone! A man's head had appeared from behind the window-seat! A man in a harness. Funny thing was he looked a lot like our cleaner. 'It's Lucky' we chimed! We then proceeded - on account of feeling great warmth to this man precariously balanced on wire - to draw him smiley faces on paper, which I then pressed to the glass by way of gratitude. He was risking his life to clean our window! If he was embarrassed for unwittingly being the third party in our menage-a-trois, he was now thoroughly perplexed and made a hasty departure.

Window-cleaner gone, we settled ourselves on lofty bed and looked out over the view. It was a bizarre sensation, watching the shadows of clouds pass over the 16th century San Endres Parish Church from our £55 million titanium perch. It made me wonder what the locals really thought of these incredibly bold, brave, new world designs so close to the old, the historic... just down the road there was Viura, and Santago Calatrava's Ysios, which we could see in the distance behind the Parish Church. A paradoxical view, the theatricality of which was heightened by heavy blood red curtains that moved back and forth at a button-push.

After half an hour of moving the curtains back and forth to loud music banging out of the beside B&O, we carried on acting like kids in a sweet-shop by pressing every other button to be found. Aside from inadvertently summoning the concierge, twice, we then found a bottle of wine (which we were clearly meant to find), an extensive pillow menu and directory of sparkling mineral waters. The rather surreal poofy bedside lampshades were fun. Husband insisted I take a photo of him to make one look like his head, which I did, and here it is.

It is said that when Gehry was slow to take on the commission, the MDR execs uncorked a bottle from 1929, the year the architect was born, to help him make up his mind. Well, the bottle in our room wasn't that old a vintage but it was still mighty fine. A 2008 Crianza. We opened the wine, booked a table for two for dinner, booked a wine tour for the morning and enjoyed the view. Wine drunk we headed for the Caudalie Spa where a wine bath for two awaited, followed by massage. Bliss.

As wine temples go, I'm not sure you could get finer. But at dinner, the tasting menu was served at great haste (we had a plate count on our table as they started to pile up) and the following morning, the tour was no great success. Our group was rather large, 12 people in all, none of whom spoke Spanish. Despite this we were all led to an amphitheatre for a 15 minute video in Spanish, during which the group of Italian men descended into giggles whilst doing their best to impress 4 Dutch girls oblivious to their advances.

It later transpired that absolutely no one in our group, save husband and I, had any wine knowledge. Seems that the winery is well marketed as a box worth ticking if you happen to be in the area, regardless of whether you care for wine or not. It is a leviathan of a bodega: a little impersonal, but you can't help but be impressed.

A great deal of the tour focused on the design of the hotel itself -partly because the Italian men, having tired of the Dutch girls, had turned their attention to the sort of cliental the hotel attracts. Had Edwin Chan (Gehry's design partner on the project) been there, he would have described it thus: 'a chateau for the 21st century, a kind of bed-and-breakfast for VIPs'. Our tour guide described it as 'exclusive' before going on to explain that the silver, pale gold and pink titanium ribbons were inspired by the foil cap, gold-mesh wrapper and contents of the bottle, whilst the supporting stilts echo the vines themselves.

I prefer the way Gehry describes it: 'It's a marvellous creature, with hair flying everywhere'. Marvellous indeed. And we are all VIPs.


That's it for Rioja. From here we travelled towards Ribera del Duero, stopping at Lerma on route, which you can read about here.

Otherwise to return to the main Northern Spain menu, click here.

Bodega Abel Mendoza Monge & Casa Toni

Located in Rioja Alta, Bodega Abel Mendoza Monge is a relatively small bodega situated in the town of San Vicente de la Sonsierra. Despite being a small winery, Abel Mondoza Monge enjoys a large reputation on account of the high quality of the wine it produces, including, rather unusually, white Riojas. And we were lucky enough to get to visit and try.

walls of tank stained from grapes pressed underfoot

Abel Mendoza is an artisan producer who handcrafts his own wines according to his own rules. This is what El Mundo Vino, Spain's leading wine column, had to say about him:

'If we searched for the ideal embodiment of what it takes to convert the traditional grower of Rioja to a modern "vigneron" and producer of cutting edge craftsmanship, qualitative and French, it would be Abel Mendoza Monge. A small farm (16 hectares), a viticultural perfectionist that grows grapes of high quality, and a careful wine making in French oak barrels and not American. By the way, both red and white wines are of sublime quality'

We were shown round the bodega by Maite, Abel's wife and the bodega's winemaker. I had been wanting to visit the vineyard having tried their wines at a London tasting. Since 1988 the bodega has grown from 16 to 18 hectares that are divided into 37 parcels. These parcels are somewhat tricky to reach, located either along the River Ebro or villages surrounding San Vincente de la Sonsierra. We didn't walk the vineyards precisely for this reason, but Maite did walk us through the wine production, explaining to us their philosophy.

It was fascinating to see the large concrete tanks where the carbonic maceration takes place. The grapes (tempranillo and malvasia) are entirely handpicked and then deposited into the tanks where they are eventually crushed underfoot. It was a long climb up to the top where we peered in. The whole process struck me as terribly romantic. I said so. Maite then pointed out that the process is highly dangerous as the gasses released during this phase can kill.

At the bodega they use organic farming methods, and market their wines under 2 different brands: Jarrate and Abel Mendoza. Jarrarte is a young wine subject to carbonic maceration, whilst the Abel Mendoza label is kept in oak barrels for eleven months. The yield of the Abel Mendoza brand is quite low which makes these wonderful wines something of a rarity. You can purchase either the Jarrate or Abel Mendoza label in the UK from here and here.

After tasting a few glasses of the white Rioja (of which the bodega produce 4 varieties) and then a couple more of their young Jarrarte wine with Maite, I promptly offered my services to help them pick the harvest towards the end of September, early October. I am waiting to hear back from them and while I wait, practice my Spanish.

Chozo de Puerto Rubio,
an old shepherd's hut, San Vincente de la Sonsierra

Maite also highly recommended Casa Toni for dinner (it is just up the road from the bodega) but unfortunately it was closed the week we were there. We heard a lot of good things about this restaurant so I shall blog about it here when I return from harvest.

From here we moved on to wine therapy at Gehry's Hotel Marquis de Riscal in Elciego, which you can read about here. Otherwise to return to the North Spain main menu, click here.

Hotel Viura, Bodega Remelluri & Lunch at Casa Arina, Labastida

There is a remarkable hotel in Villabuena, Rioja. It is called Viura and it looks like a succession of very attractive boxes piled high on one another. Inside it is made up of sublime textures and surfaces.

Viura must be recommended for its attention to detail. And its concierge. A Belgian called Ben. Ben was brilliant. He put us into Rm 106 (his favourite) and as it was sometime being prepared Ben invited us to take a glass of white wine on the terrace, which was highly appropriate seeing as viura is the name of a local white grape variety. The terrace was lined with handsome chunky wooden beams bleached silvery-grey by the sun. I admired them from my white moulded plastic chair.

Upstairs the corridor walls were painted black! Matt black! And doodled on in chalk! Liking black immensely, I celebrated this with another glass of wine.

Ben also recommended we have lunch at Casa Arina in Labastida, which we did after visiting Remelluri, a bodega that sits on the hillside overlooking the town.

As we were determined to take the tour and tasting of Bodega Remelluri, we fibbed. We told them that whilst we couldn't speak Spanish, we understood perfectly well. Ben helped communicate this. They believed us because we smiled and nodded at almost everything they said.

The Remelluri tour began with a video presentation. Of this we understood very little, other than the heritage of the site. On the screen flickered images of monks and then some men admiring a necropolis amidst the vines. Then came the evidence of winemaking on the Remelluri farm and monastery in the Late Middle Ages by way of accounts on age-old parchment dating from 1596 recording pitchers of wine from the estate.

At the end we were ushered into a dining room overlooking the courtyard where a bottle of 2005 Reserva was opened and large glasses poured for the 4 of us in attendance. The lady then left the bottle with us to finish at our leisure, which we did. It is this kind of generosity that often prompts one to buy some more wine before leaving, which we also did. It was very, very good.

Casa Arina do a very good chuleton de buey which we had with a ensalada normal (lechuga, tomate & cebolla). If you think a T-bone steak for 2 is a bit heavy for lunch, don't forget that lunch does not happen until after 2pm and dinner most likely to come your way at 11pm. Again, you must book for lunch (T.945 33 10 24). The restaurant was busy. Of the 6 tables, 3 were drinking Fernandez Gomez. We were drinking a Crainza from Luis Canas.

But what I really want to tell you about are the roasted almonds that the owner Valentin makes. If you are lucky, he will bring you a little plate of them after dinner. And if you are really lucky, he will give you some more when you have gobbled the first. Valentin's recipe is a family secret.

l-r: Valentin, Miren, Gaizka, Garbine

Miren & Valentin

It is a family run business boasting three generations under one roof. There was a delightful b/w photograph of Valentin and Miren from their salad days. Miren took the trouble of finding it and bringing it to our table. They were lovely hosts making Casa Arina not just worth visiting for its excellent fare, but also for the convivial atmosphere. And the roasted almonds.

The next Rioja stop is a personal favourite, Bodega Abel Mendoza Monge, which you can read about here. Otherwise, to return to the North Spain main menu, click here.

Bodegas Fernando Remirez de Ganuza, Followed by Lunch at Restaurant Alameda

Bodegas Fernando Remirex de Ganuza has to be one of the finest bodegas in Rioja. Their wine is fabulous.

The bodega is located in Samaniego, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it villiage in the Basque province of Alava. If you intend on visiting, contact them first to make an appointment (T. 945 60 90 22) This is obligatory as bodegas will not accommodate you if you ruck up out of the blue expecting a tour & taste. Having said that, ruck up is exactly what we did, to the yard of the country mansion where the cellar and offices are housed, and using enchufe, secured a private tour with Fernando's daughter Cristina, followed by a taste of the 2005 Fincas de Ganuza Reserva, and the 2005 Remirez de Ganuza Reserva.

Whilst most would reach for a reserva or grand reserva, I quite prefer Crianza, and their 2008 is a good bet. I was lucky enough to enjoy two more bottles later in the day. Whatever your tipple, Ben Henshaw at Indigo Wine is their London distributor (T. 0207 733 8391).

the cellar

By the by, when you taste wine in Spain, they pour you a very generous glass. I was onto my second when I vowed to Fernando, the wine maker and owner, that I would learn to speak Spanish. Fernando had little idea of what I was going on about, speaking no English himself, but we got there eventually with some Spanish and more French. He understood my enthusiasm. I could communicate that. He also recommended us a restaurant. 'We like chuleton' husband pronounced (in English). I concurred (in Spanish) and a phone call later, a table for 2 was secured for a 3pm lunch at Restaurant Alameda, in Fuenmayor.

Fernando drew this map. He makes excellent wine, but this map won't get you there. It is an optimistic vision that demonstrates how much simpler life becomes after a good glass of wine.

We got lost. It didn't matter - the surrounding countryside was beautiful. I am keeping the map.

What happened next was astonishing. Husband and I will debate this for years to come, but to my mind, Restaurant Alameda serves the best chuleton de buey I have ever had in my life. I have been spoilt. I have eaten incredible chuleton in Madrid and Tolosa at Casa Julian. But whilst I dislike using the term 'best', let me put it this way: for Restaurant Alameda Michelin should create a whole new catagory - a 'whatever your plans are, change them and come here instead'.

The owner and chef, Tomas, cooks each and every chuleton to perfection. If you sit downstairs, as we did, you are able to watch him do so as there is a large window in the wall that divides the dining room from the expansive charcoal grill. We were there for 3 hours. Lunch didn't finish till 6pm. It was a wonderful meal. The chuleton melts in your mouth like butter.

I wholeheartedly recommend anyone travelling to the North of Spain to pay the restaurant a visit. Tomas's dedication is quite extraordinary. I do believe the man's a genius and was very sorry the meal had to end.

gazpacho

croquetas 

chuleton de buey

pimientos del pequillo

By the by, Restaurant Alameda has a sister restaurant in Laguardia, Meson Chuchi.

Fernando's recommendation started something of a trend. From here on in, we asked all winemakers we had the pleasure to meet which restaurant they preferred. And then we did our darndest to eat there. This method turned out some corkers which makes great sense when you think about it: people who know their wine also know their food, for the two go hand in hand.

The next stop in Rioja found us here. Otherwise, to return back to the North Spain main menu, click here.

Haro, 29th June & Batalla del Vino

Moving on from Bilbao and leaving the rain behind us, our first stop in La Rioja found us, very early in the morning in Haro, on the 29th June. This was well-and-intentionally-timed as the 29th is St Pedro's day and every year, on this date, the Batalla del Vino (Battle of Wine) takes place.

To join the merriment, you need to be ready at 7am to make your way to a small hilltop chapel a few kilometers from the village where a quick mass is held. If you are new to this, worry not, for the white-clad, wine-bearing citizens of Haro are easy to spot. They will be following their mayor who rides to the hilltop on horseback. It's a long walk so you have the option of driving to the base of the hill and parking in a large field as many do. They even have coach parties heading that way, so there will be quite a procession. A bit like going to Glastonbury. Cross the River Tiron and turn an immediate left onto the LR-306 Av de la Miranda out of Haro. You can't miss it.

Mass over, mayhem ensues. If you are taking a camera, prepare to kiss it goodbye unless it is wrapped in layers of watertight plastic that is. You will get thoroughly drenched in young red wine. That's a promise.

you shall need one of these 

So why war? The battle marks a historic dispute between Haro and the neighbouring village Miranda del Ebro over who owns the mountains between. Yep. Territory. They take it very seriously. People come heavily armoured with an arsenal of water pistols, buckets and hoses. Some wear goggles. Some bring trombones. And they even have their own wine-dedicated emergency services: Team SOS-Rioja.

SOS-Rioja

Considering the number of casualties Team SOS-Rioja were very relaxed. No wonder - the battle is over very quickly, lasting no more than an hour, after which everyone slowly makes their way to the town square for more drinking, dousing each other in wine, dancing, eating and general debauchery. The car park was a mini-festival in itself with fires lit and music blasting from stereos. It's pretty remarkable that cars are driven back to Haro at all, but they get there, with people hanging out of windows and open boots, or sitting on -yes, sitting on - roofs.

Husband did berry well.

There is a downside. Many of the bodegas in and about Haro are closed during the fiesta, which lasts a good week. So if you want to visit the bodegas of Haro, of which there are many (Muga & CVNE to name but a few) bear in mind that they will be shut. On the upside, at some point you will probably rub wine-stained shoulders with the owners in the town square as the party does not stop. By 9am on the 29th of June, I'd hazard a guess that there isn't a sober soul in Haro.

All this revelry put us in the mood for more wine. Following the fest, we imposed ourselves on Bodegas Fernando Remirez de Ganuza for a tour and tasting, followed by a legendary lunch at Restaurante Alameda, which you can read about here.

Otherwise, to return to the North Spain main menu, click here.