A really Good Friday

The better informed reader will know that yesterday was Good Friday for those of the Greek Orthodox Christian faith, to which I nominally belong. The various services that take place on the day, culminating in an evening 'funereal' procession called Epitaphios are, depending on your viewpoint, profoundly moving, picturesque, full of tradition or, even, less than necessary, but most of us have been taking part with varying degrees of commitment since we were little children.

The famous MT/YT team invited mutual friend MG and your dutiful scribe to their home for the evening, so that we could easily go to the nearby small church and follow proceedings full or otherwise, as desired, then have a simple bite to eat and a couple of glasses of wine to 'drown our sorrows', as it were. Whilst the religious ceremonies were less of a temptation for me, you have never knowingly seen me turn down an invitation to their home - the lure of first class eating and drinking, plus warm friendship, is one I have little motivation to resist.

Being Good Friday the bus schedules were even less obliging than normal so I was a bit late, hot and sweaty when I reached their place; MG, who lives not too far away and has a car, was already there and disapproving of, or at least surprised by, my tardiness. On my part, after wiping my brow I was ready for anything the home pair had prepared to throw at me.

We started with a most unusual wine from the French Savoie area, young and lively (full tasting notes etc. below) and some nibbles. There was choice both for those fasting and not (me!), as always quite delicious, as always relaxing. You can tell people who truly respect food when anything you eat at their instigation contains a certain degree of thought and care and is always real food, never something contrived or made to show off. Both MT and YT can cook to extremely high and elaborate standard if required, but their simple stuff is also amazingly tasty and thought out in, for me, the best possible way, to appeal to anyone attending and tasting. Believe me, a 'bad' dish here is better than most people manage for their 'best' dishes.

Food is all about enjoyment, sharing, bringing people together - it is NOT about just stuffing your face(even my greedy one!), though that may, on occasion, be a motive for other reasons; much in the same way, wine is for enhancing the taste experience and not just for getting drunk. To me there is no greater, more civilising activity than sitting around a table with people, breaking bread and having a glass of wine, discussing life in all its many aspects. Agreement is not necessary in everything, far from it, but good will is, making the feeling enjoyment complete. I have been extremely fortunate to have taken part in many such occasions and hope, truly, passionately hope, to be privileged enough to take part in many more before I pop my clogs.

So we decided to wander down to the little church, where a large crowd was waiting outside for the procession to begin in order to follow, lit candles at the ready, a palpable sadness in the atmosphere. People old and young, families and friends, were all gathered chatting and waiting, then falling behind the ceremonial heart of the procession as it came out of the church to wind its way along the local road before returning to the church to continue the liturgy. Luckily for me MT needed to return to the flat to get the food going so I could also escape, as by this time my back was giving me a bit of trouble and my religious fervour was all but exhausted.

By the time JT and MG returned, about half an hour later, nearly everything was ready: nibbles including homemade baked falafel, cheese bit, pitta chips that we had started on earlier, a starter of boiled tasty greens and then spaghetti with a yummy homemade tomato sauce (MT dissented and had a homemade pesto variant), which, as a non-faster, I generously plastered with grated cheese. This was proper food, glorious, comforting, nourishing food made with love and served with the generosity of spirit that characterises these friends. To finish there was a bought-in dark chocolate cake (courtesy of MG) and strawberries in alcohol and lemon juice, mmmm!

The first wine - both wines were red, by the way - is a product of rare passion, even in the wine world, in that it does not strive for universal acceptability and the 'bright lights'. Instead it is a passionate expression of a rare local grape (Mondeuse noire) in a style that may not appeal to all, but is individual and characterful. This is from an all but biodynamic, organic small estate called Domaine du Cellier des Cray, the owner/winemaker is Adrien Berlioz and this wine, Cuvee Marie-Clotilde 2017, is not a shrinking violet. A dark purple, almost black, colour leads to a big spicy nose, a heady mixture of sour cherry, prune and cough medicine, deep and strangely seductive, with a distinct sweet overtone. On the palate it is young, lightly earthy, tannic and dry but with a twinge of sweetness, ripe spice, long and complex. An unusual, alluring wine that improved with food and that I would like to see again with a bit of bottle age.

The second wine, from the Avantis Estate on the island of Evia (Euboea for classicists) was a 2010 single grape variety biggie. The grape variety, another relatively obscure one,  is called locally Mavrokoudoura but appears elsewhere as Mandilaria, giving a very dark, concentrated wine showing only hints of age. The nose, full of rich red fruit if slightly jammy, was seductive and complex. The palate was also bursting with red fruit (sour cherry?) flavours and ripe tannins, had hints of rhubarb in its slight bitterness, was vibrant and long showing no sign of age yet. An excellent bottle and, as yet 'undiscovered' so not fashionable; the price, therefore, appears to remain at reasonable levels for the quality and character there, though you may struggle to find anything but younger vintages - and this wine needs a bit of age to show at its best, as well as a bit of air before serving.

As if the wine wasn't pleasure enough, we finished with a small glass of ethereal grappa of Nebbiolo by the acknowledged master of the art, Romano Levi; unimaginably smooth for a grappa, discreet but complex, long and totally outstanding, a masterpiece of the distiller's art.

The conversation and the laughter flowed well past midnight.

Well worth a visit!

The other day a friend proposed to a small group of us (four, actually), all equally impecunious, that we visit a restaurant part owned by a friend of his (in the adjacent photograph the said co-owner Yannis Christopoulos is in the denim-like shirt with his/my friend DH), situated within the main Athens Central Vegetable Produce market. Yanni had the misfortune(ha-ha!) to be present during our visit and could not have been more graceful, more hospitable, kinder.

For those of you unfamiliar with this market, it is built in a style I can only describe as drab (politely expressed as functional) and reminiscent of a run down military camp without the beauty; as a bonus it is situated in an industrial part of town which has evolved, like most of Greece, with little planning, forethought or organisation. I was not looking forward to this place, described as part old-fashioned grocery store and part eatery, stocked with carefully selected produce from all over Greece and beyond, as usually these are smug little places stocked with mediocre 'artisan' products, serve indifferent food and are usually smokey/smelly (both from the kitchen and the patrons puffing away).

This place - The Small Bites of the Market (in Greek : Ta Mezeklikia tis Agoras) - was nothing like that. The premises, despite the warehouse exterior, were simple but tastefully designed, the produce on display was truly well chosen and mostly rarely seen in Athens, the food was not elaborate but with top-notch ingredients it was utterly delicious - and there was not a hint of smelliness despite lots of frying. Admittedly it was not heaving during our visit, as it was an evening during Greek Orthodox Holy Week and at least some people are fasting (we, quite obviously, were not!), but it was a good sign.

I loved both the look and the feel of the place - the stylish simplicity even made me more accepting of the plastic-coated paper table 'cloths', much despised by yours truly both for their tackiness and their environmental impact. Here, in a light tan colour, they suited the mood of the place and, while I still rather they were not used, they at least seemed less offensive. The dark wood of the tables and chairs gave the place an old-fashioned but natural style, lightened by the display shelves and fridges full of cheeses and charcuterie, all intelligently sourced and giving emphasis to quality.

To drink we chose a bottle of Greek tsipouro (like Italian grappa or French marc), not aged and, therefore, clear in colour. In Greece this can be an aperitif, a digestif or, as we chose to do, be consumed before, throughout and after a meal. Our choice, from a producer called Glinavos in Zitsa, Epirus and from a white grape variety called Debina, used for the local white wine) was very clean on the palate, rather delicate and complex in flavour, easy enough to drink and nicely presented. As there was not a drop left - three of us were drinking - it appears a good choice, and the morning after clear head emphatically supports that verdict.

We had a series of shared plates starting with some smoked cheese and bresaola (yes, some imported goods are also present...), both excellent, though I am not ordinarily a fan of smoked cheese. We progressed to a super-tasty ripe cherry tomato salad, lightly olive-oiled (!!!), fried cheese (saganaki), fried eggs with spiced meat (pastourma), highly spiced salami (soutzouki) and fried potatoes, grilled spicy sausages, a smoked ham chop with fried potatoes, meatballs (keftedes) in a tomato and yoghourt sauce and, finally, sheftalies - a traditional Cypriot delicacy. Nothing was less than good, though some were better than others, and everything disappeared so we must all have appreciated what was put before us. Of course we overdid (I certainly did, little pig that I am, see older post on the subject, pace Mervyn!) things, but Yanni helped us finish everything as he kindly joined us for dinner.

Even more kindly he offered us all a couple of chunks of what is known as 'Grocer's halva', one with nuts and one with chocolate, from a top small producer, in order to finish the meal on a sweet note. To that effect he also shared a bottle of sweet wine; overly flowery and with one-dimensional sweetness, it did not win me over, so I was careless and did not write down its details. The nutty halva was exceptional, the chocolatey one good and the wine OK, so overall it was a good way to end what had been a most enjoyable meal. And costs here are, I believe, reasonable but I cannot vouch for that as I never saw a menu - you will have to work hard to top thirty euros a head (we paid far less), unless you are far more extravagant, especially with your drinking, than we were. It is certain that if you get carried away, ordering expensive wines in quantity and eating the priciest ingredients - camel pastourma, anyone? - you can end up paying lots; wouldn't you expect to, though? I am aware that our kind host was generous and perhaps did not charge us for some things, but this is to my mind a reasonable establishment nevertheless!

Greece (or Hellas if you are that way inclined), for all its many faults, truly has some great produce worthy of note on any stage. Alas for many reasons most of it is not seen outside the country; indeed, much of it is hardly appreciated within, despite the proliferation of food programs on television. Strangely, the economic meltdown seems to have induced at least some people to search not only for lower prices but higher quality as regards their food, and hopefully places like this can contribute to this yet still make a profit. With tourism booming it may also showcase Greek food to visitors - the so called 'tourist traps' in Athens are obviously doing well, as they are easily accessible, but perhaps more adventurous visitors will venture to places like this. Here they will be richly rewarded with a quirky, very individual and honest experience - real food, good drink and proper Greek hospitality, well worth seeking out and meriting a detour.

Irrespective of anybody else, I am already planning another visit to the market and these specific delights, sooner rather than later. I found both the fridges to contain stuff that I would like to try and, perhaps, buy for home consumption. And the shelves were a little treasure trove, to which I am inexorably drawn.

As Arnie said: 'I'll be back!'

The new sport of civil disobedience

Whether it's 'yellow vests' tearing the centre of Paris to shreds, Greek youth firebombing the police or anti-anything anywhere in the world, we are now accustomed to seeing young men with hidden faces and hoodies attacking authority in an organised, very aggressive, systematic way.

In my eyes this is not dissimilar to the football hooliganism that was so prevalent in the UK and throughout Europe only a few years ago (some parts of the world still enjoy the pleasure...), where young men allied to one team attacked anyone associated with whoever their opponents happened to be on that particular day. Football hooliganism - and the violence that went hand-in-hand with it - was a curse to anyone who wanted to watch and enjoy football in the 1980s, especially in the UK. For once central government took intelligent, decisive action and dismantled most of the apparatus behind the violence, stopping by and large the 'cancer' in its tracks. Families have flocked back to football grounds, or would have if the cost was not prohibitively high.

The violence has not entirely disappeared, however, but keeps finding different ways to be expressed because - and this is something we hate to admit - this type of violence is sport for the young men involved, a kind of game, strange entertainment of sorts, a bit of a caricature, much like the drunken fights on a Saturday night used to be. Most of the people involved are doing this for fun, granted not your ordinary day-to-day fun yet fun nevertheless, but those of us not so inclined refuse to comprehend and accept this; we find many, sometimes even seemingly reasonable, ways to interpret and excuse what should be unacceptable behaviour.

A few weeks ago in the centre of another European capital - Athens - extreme scenes were repeated during a demonstration against an agreement that included the awarding of any form of the name Macedonia to a small neighbouring country, formerly part of Yugoslavia, that has already been  known by a variant of the name (the simplest, really, Macedonia) throughout the world for years. This may be wrong and, indeed, the agreement may even be a bad one for Greece, but how does it improve people arm themselves with staves to attack the police or break anything they can get their hands on. This is done for fun, as a sport! It can be done with little fear and, because there are few if any consequences for the troublemakers, is disgusting, senseless and costs society plenty (not just in monetary terms) to put right; that's before people are seriously hurt or, even, killed during these 'games'.

This is not an anti-demonstration rant. If you are protesting against your government you are perfectly entitled to do so, openly and loudly! You must, however, if you insist on claiming to belong to a civilised society, observing the rights of others around you while you do so. What you are not entitled to do - ABSOLUTELY NOT! - is inflict damage on other human beings (yes, policemen count as human beings, duh!) not involved directly in your protest and/or threatening you in some way. The cretins who label themselves as 'anarchists' or some such should realise that this automatically puts them outside the protection of society and the law - if they choose to deny other peoples' rights due to their 'beliefs' they voluntarily surrender their own.

Violence is as damaging and repulsive as it can seem seductive; in the end it achieves little and proves nothing. The easiest thing in the world is to tear down and destroy - little skill is usually required, after all - so it is a counter-productive activity, alien to most. Perhaps its enthusiastic proponents would be less keen if they ran the risk of either a good beating or severe legal punishment, or both; some of the fun would surely pale if that were the norm. In any case society needs to respond to the challenge, and quickly, in order to protect the innocent majority. Let us not forget that it is this majority that mainly carries the weight in our western societies, and more often than not pays the price that enables a civilised society to exist at all.

Stop Press: Birthday girl helps feed others, namely me!

Luckily I have never been into fasting, especially not when required by religious convention, so I was in a great position to enjoy being treated, together with the by now famous MT/YT team, to dinner by my friend MG, to help her celebrate her birthday. Though scarcely underfed, I have been looking forward to this occasion since it was announced 10 days ago, knowing that both the food - at SIMUL restaurant - and the wine (straight from YT's private cellar) would be exceptional. The company was, of course, even better. And did you know that simul means 'together' from the latin, as in simultaneous? I didn't, and now I do!

Dear reader, should you find that my less than svelte figure is objectionable, feel free to accost and scold these heinous individuals who, with numerous excuses like birthdays and regular invitations, constantly lead me astray. Do not look upon me with pity, much like a goose being fed in order to produce fois gras, however,  because as fatty as my liver may or may not be, I end up being a more than enthusiastic participant in these events. And I seem to say to myself more often than not these days : 'Tomorrow I may have to diet/fast/whatever, but tonight I will enjoy myself!'

Ah, Simul a la carte.... I chose:

1. A chickpea mini casserole with veal bone marrow and langoustine tails. This was an interesting dish, a play on rustic and luxury ingredients, a clever evolution of a classic peasant dish. The bone marrow added texture and an extra taste dimension, while the langoustine tails connected this very earthy dish to the sea, to water, to a delicate, complex, very different taste and texture sensation. I found this a most satisfying dish. YT next to me chose a dish featuring skate cheeks (2nd photo down) which was another clever play on taste and texture, much enjoyed by him.

2. A pork chop with a tomato and herb crust and creamy potato puree that was delightfully crispy and juicy at the same time, an interpretation on a piece of meat that I rarely order which elevated it to a delicacy, enhancing the natural flavours and textures - another big success. The other three had a fish of the day dish that I ignored completely because I was not in a fish mood, but they all loved it.

3. A designer banoffee dessert, more of a flute than a pie, which was everything it said 'on the label' taste-wise and had an interesting texture but was ultimately unexceptional, given the high standards set by the first two courses. YT had a play on a traditional greek/near eastern dessert (deconstructed ekmek, photo included) which looked clever but featured superfluous ingredients shaped into decorative touches. Birthday gal MG had a chocolate thingy, like the one I had for YTs birthday, which she found over-rich and could not finish; I concur with her assertion that it needed to be more of a bitter chocolate event. Perhaps if she'd have some of the lovely Marc de Bourgogne that we had last time we had this dish... Overall, though,  the desserts were undoubtedly the weak spot in an otherwise excellent meal.

To wash it down we started with a Loire white wine from an amazing small producer who, previously with his father and now with his wife, has pioneered organic and biodynamic vineyard management and a responsible approach full of respect for Mother Earth and our environment, Francois Chidaine. The 2014 Les Choisilles is a wine made with Chenin Blanc, is a cuvee from old vines fermented in wood and aged sur lie, the result being a very concentrated wine quite golden in colour, a rich pear-drop nose leading into a multi-layered dry pear palate hinting at sweetness, powerful and long, superlative Chenin Blanc character any way you look at it. A gem, one that shows why France, for all the competition from far and wide, is still the country able to produce the most bewitching wines, products of love and respect rather than a business formula.

The second wine should have been a superstar, a 1er Cru Clos St. Jacques 2003 from Gevrey Chambertin by the able hands of Domaine Bruno Clair. It initially appeared that way, the colour showing no sign of age, dark and concentrated, and with an amazing nose of ripe red berry fruit, seductive and complex. After the first wow moment though, the wine seemed closed on the palate, a bit tannic and coy, even short. It opened up significantly in the glass, softening and unwinding after 15 or 20 minutes to show a more generous face, more fruit and complexity, but the palate never quite lived up to the promise of that rich (too rich?) nose. It may have been the fact that 2003 was a heatwave year which had an effect on the balance, perhaps it needed more time to show at its best,  yet this was still a lovely glass of red Burgundy from a top producer, but... Burgundy, as my regular reader already knows, is my favourite part of the wine world bar none and I expect great things from every single promising bottle, so even a little slip disappoints, perhaps more than it should.

Everybody at Simul made us feel welcome and cared for, in the non-intrusive style that has become their hallmark. An inflated version of myself departed their restaurant, content, full and trying to figure out whose birthday might be next. Why, less than twenty four hours later I seem to already be wasting away... perhaps Lent is having an effect on me after all!!!

Wine needn't be famous to be good

The trusty team of MT/YT have done it again, hosting a simple but lovely evening of conviviality, tasty food and ever-so gluggable booze for just a few of us, a last minute, throw-something-together kind of thing that spells pleasure from beginning to end - this could be the opening paragraph describing almost any casual invite to their place for a simple dinner and some decent wine!

They have a knack for making simple things very tasty including superb salads, whether they be simple or complex, always perfect in texture and dressed just right - crispy, tangy, wholesome little masterpieces that are better than any I've had in restaurants anywhere in years and years. The other day's (a few weeks ago, in fact....) was no exception, the crispy lettuce matching the tasty slivers of cheese and rounded off by the little sweet baby tomatoes, light and scrummy. It is their approach to food in general that defines these evenings: good ingredients treated with understanding, care and respect to make food that is enjoyable in every way.

Their most recent 'event' (last week, actually) featured little crostini bursting with flavours, a 'clafoutis' featuring roquefort cheese and walnuts (rich, rich, rich and delicious) and a goulash with genuine Hungarian input. And before you panic on my behalf, yes, there was something chocolatey to finish, though I was, for once, too stuffed to over-indulge...

'What about the wine' I hear you ask, exasperated that I have mentioned nothing, but am already in my fourth paragraph; well, it went like this:

1. Sancerre Caillottes 2012 from Francois Cotat, a relative youngster compared to the previous wine of his we tried and from young vines, this had a lovely bold, complex Sauvignon Blanc nose which stoked expectations, was immediately attractive on the palate but faded quickly, an extra-gluggable textbook Sancerre, not a grand wine. Very pleasant indeed.

2. Could a wine from the Jura be absent from a YT dinner? I know it happens occasionally, but he is passionate about the area, the wines and especially the quirky Vin Jaune and all its derivative forms. Vin Jaune eludes fashion trends and needs to be approached with care initially, but once you understand it you can easily fall under its spell. We had an 'almost Vin Jaune', made in the same way but kept for only (!) three and a half years, a 2010 Reserve du Caveau Savagnin (savagnin is the local grape variety); slightly lighter than its full-blown cousin, it still has the same remarkable qualities, is very dry, distinctive dried apricot palate, long and complex. The grower here, Lucien Aviet (a.k.a Bacchus) and his son Vincent make much sought after wines near Arbois, the capital of the region.

Ordinary Jura wines, the whites especially, have now been 'discovered' by a wider audience and thus gained in popularity in recent years, affecting prices, but the area remains delightfully traditional and old-fashioned, the people rustic and conservative, no 'designer label' nonsense here. Long may it remain so, at least in my lifetime! And while the rising prices are a disappointment for long-time fans, they do ensure that growers here can make a living producing their little masterpieces, thus securing a future for Jura wines and the people for whom they are a labour of love.

3. Rhone red wines are another weakness of mine - I adore their big, warm personalities - and their usually friendly nature. Cote Rozier is a large and, apparently, steep vineyard area in the Cote Rotie appellation of the Northern Rhone farmed by several growers; our wine was made by brothers Patrick and Christophe Bonnefond. Their vines are old, adding complexity and character to a robust wine, one often used in Cote Rotie blends to provide backbone, but here and from a good vintage (2001) showing class. Big ruby red colour, ripe red berries with some spice on the nose and palate, complex and long and, despite its age, able to stand up to the goulash beautifully. Not the most famous of Northern Rhone vineyards, Cote Rozier here produced a stunner, another gluggable delight.

4. The last table wine of the night - off your high horse, chaps, there were six of us for four bottles! - alas had no label, but was a blast from my not so recent past: Luis Pato Bairrada red 1985. Luis Pato (translates to Louis Duck, hence his use of ducks on his labels...), now justly one of the most revered winemakers in Portugal was just starting on his journey as a winemaker in his own right when, in the spring of 1986, I, guided by my subsequent business partner Antonio Lopes Vieira (Portuguese wine writer and university professor), visited his establishment. The 1985 was Luis' first vintage as a full-time winemaker and his first experiment with barrel ageing, as in Bairrada tradition the reds were never aged in wood, and the first vintage he made under his own name (1980) was aged in concrete - it was an impressively tannic, powerful, purple wine. For the 1985 vintage Luis had made two small barrels of the stuff as a tentative experiment; tasting from cask samples we bought the lot on the spot! The bottle showed surprisingly well, still alive and kicking, still balanced (1985 was an excellent vintage in the north of Portugal), a discreet herby, slightly musty nose leading to an aged but ripe palate, still with some complexity, still with some character and with a good, if not overly long, finish. Wow.


I met up with Luis again in London at a Portuguese wine tasting a year or two ago and we reminisced about the past and my then company (Wineforce), which had briefly taken the UK market by storm selling top quality Portuguese wine from small estates, before the recession of the late 1980s hit us and, eventually, killed us off. I also had an opportunity to taste his sparkling wine, now at last as good as many champagnes and by far the best Portuguese sparkler I've tasted.



I finished the evening with a sip of the Brazilian national obsession - cachaca, pronounced cashassa), a fermented sugarcane drink very popular for mixing or drinking straight. Ours was the dark cachaca, aged in wood by a company called Ypioca. I wish I could tell you about its artisanal background, but this is now big business and owned by global giant DIAGEO. Ypioca  apparently own the largest wooden barrel in the world, capable of holding three hundred and seventy four thousand litres, a weird claim to fame in my book. Our drink in the glass was a golden colour (hence ouro on the label) and similar to an aged grappa in characteristics, a tad crude for me but still a pleasant and educational way to end the evening. Hopefully it aided the digestion as well...

Now before the more knowledgable among you, dear readers, start complaining, I am aware that these were not unknown wines from producers no-one has ever heard of. They are not, however, big brands or wines that capture headlines left, right and centre; rather, they are wines known within the enthusiast community and not fashion icons or 'investment' fodder. They are products to love and drink rather than hoard and show off. In honour of these lovely bottles - and the many, many others still to be tasted - I promise to include better, more detailed tasting notes in future.

Simul Restaurant, Athens

You patient, eagle-eyed reader you, yes this is the food etc. section that I promised you a couple of weeks ago, when I wrote about being led astray - kicking and screaming, as was made clear - on the occasion of my (and, by now your) friend YT's birthday. In this post I get to briefly mention the food and rave about the lovely little restaurant and all it offers.

Before I get stuck in, let me make a correction to the post about the wine, specifically about the red wine from that Languedoc jewel, Mas de Daumas Gassac: the wine we had was not the domaine's straight red, impressive as it is in itself, but the special cuvee Emile Peynaud, named after the famous Bordeaux oenologist who helped advise in the setting up and early winemaking period of Mas de Daumas Gassac. This is made in very limited numbers (about 1800 bottles for the 2001 vintage) from 100% Cabernet Sauvignon vines planted in 1972, low yields, careful selection and only in the best vintages - no wonder it was dashed impressive, with a fullness and ripeness that Cab. Sauv. struggles to find elsewhere. Apologies for the booboo, if you spotted it...

Now if you either live in Athens or visit it regularly - and know it well you - will know that it's rare to rave about gastronomic restaurants there, at least if you are being honest. There are clearly exceptions, but it must be noted that the market for seriously good food is limited and the public for it not abundant. Furthermore, most Athenians have relatively low standards (prevailing attitude: 'the best food in the world is your mother's cooking') and are, therefore, easy to please. There are successful places - very pleasant, comforting ones in many ways - that have been serving pretty well the same ' French' food for more than forty years with little alteration... Comfort food wrapped up in memories is one thing, great food is another.

In a little side street across the way from the Athens Hilton Hotel you will find, assuming you are persistent enough, a proper little gastronomic treasure, a labour of love known as SIMUL. The young chef-patron and his wife/other half, who superbly handles front of house, have created a little haven for unpretentious foodies from Athens and beyond, people who seek out good food and do not need pompous surroundings to feel good. Their food is imaginative and innovative but not over-elaborate or trying to be 'clever', their ingredients top-notch and the service appropriate to the simple, stylish dining room. And to my mind a good guide to whether a restaurant is run properly is the quality of the bread; the bread here is very good indeed.

 
We started with a dish of cockles and vegetables in a green broth, fresh as anything, subtle and tasty. Not something I would normally order (the menu here was pre-set, same for us all), this was a perfect way to start and just right with the first wine (you remember, the dazzling 2007 Sancerre that I mentioned, dear observant reader); a small bowl of deliciousness. The second course was a lovely dish of seasonal morel (morchella) mushrooms, stronger tasting and with a unique texture, nutty and filling. The mushrooms were cut into thick-ish strips, thus keeping most of their flavour and texture, and were just the right thing to lead up to the main course, a veal fillet.

In Greece there is little beef served, other than in certain specialist meat restaurants; most of the meat served is veal, irrespective of the cut, and it seems to be what most people prefer, I suppose preferring blander, more tender meat to the fuller taste of beef. This was a superb grilled specimen, excellent in size, cooked medium as ordered and with impeccable texture, very tasty (for veal) and accompanied by a fine potato puree and roast vegetables. Good ingredients, superbly cooked produced a very satisfying result.

The dessert was a chocolate thingy - if you didn't know, I'm very, VERY fond of chocolate thingies! - which satisfied any cravings I may have had. I seem to remember that it was, perhaps, not perfectly balanced taste-wise, so maybe there is a spot of perfecting to be done. It rounded up our evening well, partnering the Marc de Bourgogne admirably - too admirably in my case, as I kept testing the proposition just to be certain. As I've said before, though, and I'll keep repeating indefinitely, is that when you are drinking quality it is very rare to suffer from 'abad head' the next day; for that you need to seriously overdo it, something your 'wise' scribe here shies away from these days.

SIMUL is a good place, so go and enjoy it if you like good food or if you fancy a special occasion treat. Just don't spoil it for me and the kind friends who invite me there...

Dionysos is, as you already know, a friend of mine...

Dear regular reader, you know me as one who appreciates wine and all it gives us - yes, including the alcohol! - in helping to make our lives more pleasant, interesting, even challenging. You also know all about my devotion (my friendship, anyway) to Dionysos, the ancient Greek god who was all about wine and all to do with it - yeah, my kind of god. This I have expressed over the years through my membership of 'The Friends of Dionysos', a  group of wine lovers who pay homage to the god of wine by organising occasional, very special, dinners in selected restaurants featuring rare wines from Greece and the world, coupled with interesting food.

Each occasion is different, unique, with the YT (yep, him again!) imprint all over them; matching wine with food as perfectly as possible is not an easy task but one which YT excels in, giving all attendees experiences they would never have otherwise. Most of the time I feel fortunate just having good wine and decent food and, so long as the flavours don't clash, I'm a happy bunny. Not YT, though, for he is a real perfectionist, known throughout the world of Gastronomy for this rare skill.

The other day about forty members and guests gathered in downtown Athens at a smart/casual restaurant called 2Mazi (two together, a reference to when it was originally set up as a collaboration of two well-known Greek chefs; one, with notoriously itchy feet, is no longer there). The space is elegant, the food was good and, on occasion, exceptional, perfectly complementing the outstanding wines, which were:

1.Karanikas sparkling wine 2014 Extra Brut 0% from the north of Greece, 100% Xynomavro (sour black) grapes, blanc des noirs and, crucially, with no dosage (added sweetener). This is an exceptional wine made by the 'champagne' method and as good - if not better - than many sparklers from more famous areas, including Champagne. Delicate, complex green apples dominated nose and palate, still very young, classy, complex and long. Before you rush to the shops for a bottle, be advised that they are hard to find anywhere but well worth the effort! This gorgeous little number vied for dominance with the tartare of tuna, garnished wish organic rocket and 'traditional garnish' - I'm as much in the dark as you are there...

2. The red wine was a mere youngster, the Cuvee Olivier 2015  from the organic, biodynamic domaine Thierry Navarre in the Languedoc. This is a small domaine punching well above its weight and doing a great job preserving not only the local environment but obscure local grapes as well. Our wine was all spicy red fruit on the nose and palate, still a juvenile but opening up nicely, full of the richness and sunshine of the area, slightly rustic in a refined way. The blend of grape varieties - what we would call a 'Rhone blend', syrah/carignan/cinsault/grenache - makes this a juicy mouthful, a ripe bit of pleasure in a glass, something I'm sure Dionysos would have found appealing. Good Languedoc wines are not only a sheer pleasure to drink now but keep on getting better, and all at prices that do not make our eyes water, unlike some of the better known Appellations of France. Yummy, and a perfect foil for the veal cheeks with potato mousse and red pepper 'caviar'.

3. A great distillate is a joy unlike any other yet we were privileged to have a choice of two. Lucky swine that I am, I managed to try both and they were simply outstanding, paring with a dessert that was as interesting to taste as it was pretty to look at - a white chocolate flute with a sesame crisp, a spice crumble, melon and a fig sauce. The first one was a Marc de Vin de Paille from the Jura (Domaine Desire-Petit Papillin) which exhibited a lot of the characteristics of Vin de Paille (a ripe sweetness without being overtly sweet, unlike its progenitor) with a solid alcoholic background and finish. The Cognac, Cuvee 20 from Domaine Lheraud, was, as expected, a cracker - a 20-year old cognac of distinction, finesse and that extra bit of age that allows cognac to show its class. Complex, powerful, still very vigorous, with vinous overtones and a punch to finish, this is a glass to linger over under ideal circumstances, which these were not - I managed to savour it anyway...

At times like these, dear reader, when you read of my gastronomic adventures, I bet you wish you were me... You are not, alas, so keep reading!

Do houses have souls?

Dear reader I am fully aware that the title is provocative, especially given that we are not able to say with any scientific certainty that living creatures have a soul - yes, the jury is out on that even for humans, despite our innate feelings on the matter. I suppose I wonder if there is anything that connects buildings with the lives that have gone on within them, or whether they are mere containers for what happens within, with no memory or feeling. What has prompted me to write about this now is seeing so many empty, abandoned houses in Athens, even in the smartest areas; for many, abandonment has predated, but perhaps has been prolonged by, the current devastating economic crisis.

For an incurable romantic like me, abandoned houses immediately make me ask questions:

a. What happened to the people living there? What were their lives like?
b. Why did they leave?
c. Is there no-one left to repair and regenerate the house, especially a beautiful one?

d. Is extinction and new construction inevitable and does the dwelling feel this?
e. Does an aura of those who have lived and died within remain? Their loves, despair, joy, fury?

You may well say, dear reader, that the whole issue is asinine, as houses are inanimate objects - just things, really - so cannot possibly possess any 'living' characteristics or quality. Looking at these empty dwellings now, forlorn, dark, lifeless, I cannot help but wonder; in some of these places, if you are allowed to walk through you can see signs of the life that was there before, forming bits of a greater picture no longer in existence. Can the dwelling feel anything? Is there anything supernatural in these things?

Obviously I have no idea what the truth is, whether there is a spirit world around us existing in parallel, all-seeing and knowing. It is a compelling idea which I accept is most probably false, but it has something about it that appeals. As humans we like the idea that there are things that we cannot see or comprehend, the invisible hand guiding everything, controlling. Perhaps it helps us feel better about doing bad things - it was out of my control, fate, whatever - a funny sort of soothing mechanism. For me, a non-believer in all that, I like to think of life as a continuum, with our dwellings the repositories of so much more from the past than just the details of a lifestyle - a romantic, or perhaps even foolish, thought.