Kos - Part 1

I have spent many of my childhood summer holidays on the Greek island of Kos, part of the Dodecanese island group and, until 1947 under Italian rule. We chose Kos - well, I didn't, my parents did, together with relatives and friends - in the mid-1960s for two main reasons:
1. Kos, together with the other Dodecanese islands, were incredibly cheap as they were still in a transitional taxation period from Italian to Greek rule, a massive benefit for our financially hard-pressed families. This allowed us to spend more time on holiday without breaking the budget, with little terrors such as myself unable to spend more than a few drachmas a day no matter how foolish our spending.
2. There were few motor vehicles on Kos at the time but many, many bicycles, so that we could be allowed to roam hither and thither without much risk of incurring bodily injuries of any serious nature, other than minor scrapes from the occasional fall.

The tourist industry at the time was in its infancy, with Greece still recovering from World War 2 and its aftermath; there were a few rooms to let and a handful of rickety hotels, offering little more than a place to sleep that was very basic indeed. The first small hotel we stayed in - there were no big hotels on the island at the time - was near the sea, in a pretty but decrepit italianate building and had the name of a wind. To describe it as basic is kind, but at the age of 10 I couldn't care less, even when the occasional wandering cockroach was factored in to the equation - Kos was an adventure!

The first day we arrived, I and my oldest childhood friend LJ (Little John) set out to explore the place and, being young and football mad, we found the local football stadium and went to investigate what was what. While at the stadium we met a smiling young local boy, probably a bit older than us, called Hippocrates; he became our first local friend and helped us to meet several other local boys so that we could all play football together. We became so close to our new friends that, when the locals would play football against the holidaymakers team we were always on the locals side.

Childhood friendships, especially holiday ones, often disappear and fade with the passage of time and when distance emerges; sometimes you simply stop visiting a certain place and, as a consequence, all your local connections weaken and eventually cease to exist. So to a certain extent happened with LJ, me and our friends in Kos - life just separated us... until about 15 years ago, when I receive a telephone call from a TV program in Greece whose reason for existing was to reconnect people who for some reason had lost touch.

Not only did I get to go on television again - I had some appearances in my racing driver days - but the person looking for me was an old friend from Kos who had emigrated to the United States but was now back. The show was intriguing, emotional and gave me a prod to try and reconnect with the island where I had spent so many happy times but, assuming they were still around, with some of the friends who had made my youthful holidays so special. A few years later I took an early morning flight and spent three days searching around Kos town for my old friends.

Kos town was changed, sure, but not so as to be unrecognisable; it was still, at least in parts, picturesque and beautiful. Even more beautiful was the fact that I managed to find Hippocrates and really reconnect, leading to meeting some of the others. The rest, dear reader, is history, some of which you will read in the next post about Kos!

YT strikes again!

Not only is YT and extremely generous friend and host but, alas for my peace of mind though a positive influence on my accuracy, is also an eagle-eyed reader of my posts (much like you, dear reader), ready to correct the smallest slip and - wouldn't you know it - a slip materialised in my recent post concerning the reopening of the Roof Terrace! YT noticed that I seemed to claim, for reasons best known to me and me alone, that  the second wine he served that time was of a different vintage to the first wine, 2005 to 2008 to be precise; needless to say that my statement was incorrect, as they are both 2005s and, you clearly remember dear reader, both very good, the first even a star.

Last week we were summoned again to YT's place, though only two of us could make it on the night, for a simple dinner washed down by some rather pleasant wines. The YT/MT duo make simple seem easy, as their food is always positively bursting with interesting flavours and has a near perfect texture (pace YT). With the openers -little canapés and bits and pieces - we had a lovely young (2016) 1er Cru red Burgundy from a sub-prime (ha-ha, I know, clever way of putting it...) village but a top grower, and very good it was too. Young burgundy of this kind is vigorous yet delicate, full of strawberry lusciousness typical of young Pinot Noir, clean and intensely gluggable. But for the price this would be my perfect choice for an everyday red to drink on its own or with food, though not with very spicy stuff, and was a good example of why pinot noir from Burgundy is a class apart. The wine was from the village of Givry on the Cote Chalonnaise (between the Cote d'Or, where top Burgundies come from, and the rather plainer cousins in the Maconnais further south), the grower was Francois Lumpp and it was a lovely glass of wine, a real treat for an old Burgundy lover like me.

The second bottle, served to accompany the main course of gigantes (giant beans) and kavourmas (cured spiced meat with Turkish origins, as suggested by the name) was a biggy from that famous Rhone master of winemaking Guigal - a Cote Rotie 2000 Brune et Blonde de Guigal. Guigal makes some of the best wines of the Rhone valley and produces no duff wines at all, with even his basic Cotes du Rhone red a cut above most others and worth seeking out. His bigger reds like this one, as well as his single vineyard gems are worth seeking out for any wine lover, though prices can be eye-watering. Whilst warm temperatures do not tend to flatter these big red wines, this was showing all its power and complexity, its ripe spicy red fruit nicely balanced with a twist of finesse, juicy and lingering on the palate and its age hardly obvious in its vivid colour and voluptuous nature; as per YT standards this was a great match for our main course. For me this was an unexpected treat, especially given the time of year, and most gratefully received.


But luckily the evening did not end there, but continued with a rare Hungarian gem to follow, a sweet Tokaji (Tokay) from the 1997 vintage, Chateau Pazjos, rare and apparently extremely valuable because of its rarity. Sweet, luscious and concentrated, this was impressively complex and enjoyable - a dessert in a glass - but not that wonderful as to justify a highly elevated price. Granted, Tokay is never cheap but I had been expecting to taste something not just enjoyable but shockingly good; this did not fulfil my ambitions, but I was grateful for the opportunity of tasting it nevertheless.

And then came the finale: you have heard me rave more than once about the ethereal, wonderful stuff that is grappa from Levi and YT honoured us by offering a little glass of this very rare, delicious glory in a glass; I was more than happy to take him up on that, and always will unless I am in some way incapacitated or have no free will! Grappa has no right to be this good, believe me, no right at all - most grappas are slightly coarse if satisfyingly flavourful, not hugely refined - but here we have a masterpiece: all the flavour of the best grappas with an extra dimension (several?) of finesse and complexity, ayeeee, heaven.

As I see you looking pale, dear reader, and ready to enquire after the state of my liver, I must clarify that this is not an everyday occurrence for me, much to my disappointment, but an occasional treat - why there are days when all I have to drink is water, even though I know all the arguments about rusting or what the fish do in it, naughty things. But not every day...