Lots of funerals, no weddings...

 Pass a certain age and the less than ideal fact is that one attends or hears of far more sad events, illnesses and deaths than joyous celebrations; that's just a fact of life, the way it is, tough. So funerals are common, weddings extremely rare, alas.

It was to another funeral that I made my way to this morning, luckily taking place at the local church, that of an older male relative. Though he and I were never friends as well as relatives, I felt the need to represent my branch of the family and show my face to his children, one of whom I am relatively close to. The price to pay is to endure the liturgy that the Greek Orthodox Church deems appropriate for deceased individuals which, while not excessively long is, to an irreligious but Greek Orthodox born person like me, a bit of an ordeal.

It is an ordeal not only because, depending on the 'package' agreed with the priests conducting the service, things may drone on and on, rich in readings, chanting and platitude, but also because it is full of impressive but meaningless verbiage to indicate constancy and eternity. I mean, really, who is going to be around to remember me fifty or a hundred years after I kick the bucket, never mind centuries later... Yet the chant goes: 'may his/her memory be eternal' - a joke, a silly little joke in bad taste.

Humankind has been on this Earth for a very short time, relatively speaking, for only a few thousand years, and Christianity for an even shorter time, 2021 years to be precise, yet it loves to talk about worship and remembering every Tom, Dick or Harriet centuries from now. And it does so on and on, on and on, on and on during a funeral service, pretending whoever has just died is of deep significance, to be remembered forever; we're not and we won't be, so please can we get on with the blinking service so the dead person can go to their grave or whatever forthwith, and I can go home/cafe/drinking sooner rather than later.

I have never been married and now may never have the joy of experiencing this particular ritual as a participant, so my only experience of weddings is as a guest, impatiently eyeing up the female section of the congregation for the reception later. The thought of nice food, drink and, perhaps, some attractive female company immediately after helps me through the religious gobbledegook; no such luck at funerals. And at my age there are now many funerals - with my own also on the horizon, though hopefully not quite yet -  and hardly any weddings.

And don't worry duckies, I'll make sure my own funeral is brief and to the point - he's dead, get over it and get on with life, thanks - so you won't be bitching about it to your friends or on some blog.

Ateni beach, Andros island, Greece

This should have appeared last summer, but did not; appearing today, it gives off a whiff of summer and what we are missing, but also what we are looking forward to in 'a glass half full' sort of world... Enjoy:

My loyal reader knows well that there is a beach on the island of Andros that I have a soft spot for, even more than for St. Peter's Beach, my ever pleasing consistent standard go-to place with bar called Funky Donkey -and this beach is called Ateni. I love this place primarily because, despite having a great little beach bar with sun loungers, umbrellas and drinks/snacks, it has the feeling of an unspoilt, undeveloped, natural place. Granted, it is open to the northerly winds that cool/batter the island for most of July and August, sometimes making the bay at Ateni an angry cauldron of water; waves can regularly make swimming a bit of an adventure. And the sea, during these windy days, seems eager to deposit loads of debris of all descriptions - though mainly assorted plastics from as far afield as Turkey - on the lovely sandy beach.

As unpleasant as these things sound, they detract little from the amazing overall experience offered by the place. The clean air, the feeling of being close to nature, the peace and quiet, they're all supplemented by an impeccable little beach bar, run by the Glynos family and their assistants/employees, that has won me over not just by the care they put into everything they do and the food they serve, but also the unfailing politeness and friendly service that is consistently offered. This year, despite the problems offered by the pandemic and substantial loss of business, they were all out there again looking after everybody while wearing the requisite equipment (masks etc.) and immediately utilising the necessary cleaning materials whenever there was a need, quickly and efficiently.Getting in and out of the water is slightly tricky at Ateni, as there is a rocky ledge running along most of the length of the beach. This is just an inconvenience and easily overcome with a bit of care, so it looks more tricky than it actually is and, once you are past it the water is just fantastic, clear and cool. There is a tremendous feel when splashing about in the middle of the bay surrounded by nature, with few sights, sounds and smells of the modern world intruding. There is peace and quiet here, allowing full enjoyment of the sea yet with the modern but unobtrusive facilities of the Ateni Beach Bar only minutes away.

The drinks and food available are, for a little family-run place on a beach somewhat off the beaten track, of good to excellent quality and represent a fairly comprehensive offering, for which they get great and well-deserved reviews. But in this strange year, dominated as it has been by Covid-19 and the measures taken to limit its spread, the quality at Ateni has just not been enough to ensure a sufficient level of business to ensure survival. Still they smile, welcoming repeat and new customers alike with the same warmth, efficiency and humility; hopefully enough of us will appreciate their qualities to enable them to survive, to be there next year, to continue enhancing this beautiful location.

Don't take my word for the attributes of the place - a pair of swans were daily visitors, enjoying the hospitality of the beach bar with us but, unlike us, they did not have to pay

for sunbeds, parasols or food.

Magical Ateni, probably my favourite beach - and beach bar - on Andros; it really is that good!

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...

Coronavirus - The new 'Normal'

All over the world countries are starting to lift their restrictions imposed on their citizens and visitors in order to combat the coronavirus named Covid-19 or, according to the orange person, the Chinese virus. There appears to be no dispute at present that the virus originates from China, incidentally, but there also does not appear to be any independent fact that can confirm it was created and allowed to spread on purpose by the Chinese.

As you know, dear reader, I have been confined 'to barracks' in Greece, not allowed to pursue my normal activities; then again, so was everyone else, with the Greek government scoring a major success with its early, strict lockdown - not that I appreciated it at the time. The early lockdown has led to low infection and casualty figures and, therefore, early easing of the measures to allow the economy - and society in general - to breathe and start functioning again. Time will allow us to judge the measures taken properly, but saving lives can never be a bad thing, methinks.

Cafes, shops and restaurants are now fully open with restrictions in place as to the numbers of customers, distances and protective equipment that is mandatory. The warm weather of the arriving Greek summer is helping everyone feel better, though there is unease at the risks of undoing  achieved successes by trying to rush too soon back to the status quo. Already I've witnessed restrictions ignored on buses, bars and cafes, albeit by and large in a modest way, but who knows what may follow. The old folks considered more at risk - and I am on the basis of age, if not fitness, part of that demographic - seemed more concerned/frightened than the youngsters, which is probably fair enough.

Of course there are people up in arms about both sides of the equation - some are furious that any restrictions still exist, as the economy is struggling, with some businesses on the verge of collapse. Some of these people even consider the initial imposition of restrictions ill-advised, despite numbers seeming to clearly support the measures, with conflicting theories circulating on the internet stirring the passions. Conspiracy theorists are in overdrive, even ascribing to modest, unassuming Mr. Tsiodras, Greece's chief medical advisor/expert on the pandemic, political aspirations, general ambitions and personal gain issues in his handling of things, despite the fact that he consistently shied away from excess personal publicity.

Don't get me wrong, dear reader, I 'love' conspiracy theories and the - mostly - 'insightful' idiots who support them, as they make me feel I possess some small degree of intelligence denied to these unfortunate creatures; I cannot deny, however, that they can be extremely harmful to society as they spread their poison around and sow suspicion, dissent, even hate. I am intrigued at how these people find conspiracies everywhere, despite the fact that in today's connected world information can circle the globe in seconds, with very little hidden. In the 1970s, when information was much harder to come by, there were many films made about conspiracy theories - how 'they', unseen and all-powerful industrialists/conspirators,  ruled the world and controlled everything - but the shadowy figures have gone away, consigned to the dustbins of history to make room for new candidates like George Soros and Bill Gates. Whatever makes you happy...

In the meantime I have to get used to being served at cafes by people who look more like pirates or stick-up men, as small price to pay, I suppose, for keeping the Covid-19 virus away from the general populace and those most at risk. Strange times, indeed, and getting stranger every day.

The Roof Garden is open for business again!

I'll be honest with you up front for a change, dear reader: there is no Roof Garden and no business is involved at our private get-togethers on any occasion!

Please don't be disappointed, it's just a bit of fun  to celebrate the restart of the, by now, famous with you evenings at the home of my friends YT and MT, evenings with lovely, mostly simple but amazingly tasty, food and stunning wines, lively discussions and generosity of spirit. In the colder months festivities have always taken place indoors, but when the weather softens we have in the past moved to the balcony - the roof garden of my imagination. This year, of course, Covid-19 cut short the winter YT/MT dining season and, until recently, was keeping the warmer weather version under wraps.

Not anymore, amigos! Only a few days ago I had the pleasure of visiting my friends again and, together with two more lucky souls, experience their bountiful hospitality once more. The theme food-wise was simplicity itself, the wines were anything but: unusual, interesting, intriguing, satisfying and luscious, with a tiny drop of rare lightly cask-aged grappa to aid the digestion - the roof garden back with a bang.

The first white wine was one of those beauties that you need to give your palate time to fully appreciate, though your nose will have given you fair warning of the pleasures to come. Made by top Austrian grower F.X. Pichler in Wachau from the Gruner Veltliner grape, this Smaragd Dursteiner Kellerberg 2008 was a study in subtlety, complexity and hidden power in a wine already over twenty years old. Youthfull and fresh in colour and taste, yet with surprising depth of lychee and ripe apricot/melon taste including a metallic note in subtle layers on both nose and palate, this was to me a confirmation of the heights now scaled by top Austrian wines. Pichler's wines are stars in anybody's way of thinking, deservedly, with prices to match, and this is one of the best. The Kellerberg vineyard appears to be uniquely blessed in every way - exposure, gradient, micro-climate, soil - to produce outstanding and complex wines; this was certainly one of them, with the Smaragd designation (minimum 12.5% alcohol) achieved with hard work in a difficult, rainy vintage to give it some extra punch. Wow!

The second wine was from the same area and grape variety but a different grower, sightly older with a very different style: Gruner Veltliner Smaragd Vinothekfullung 2005 Emmerich Knoll. A lovely, riper style, golden yellow in colour and with plenty to chew on, I found this immediately appealing but less beguiling than the first wine, more up front but less complex, somehow a bit easier to approach but ultimately less rewarding. Whilst I wouldn't 'kick it out of bed' it never reached the heights of the Pichler wine for me, though two of my friends present actually preferred this. Super wines both with prices to match, I can only think back to my start in the wine trade, when the Austrian wine scandal with the anti-freeze had just broken and nobody thought much of them or showed any inclination to buy - how wrong we all were, how short-sighted!

Only a few days ago I raved about a wine from Bordeaux; today, alas, I cannot do the same. Our third wine was a 1995 Troplong Mondot from St. Emilion, classified Premier Grand Cru Classe B in the local classification and a bottle I would have expected to have been splendid. The 1995 vintage, however, seems to have been difficult in St. Emilion, with tannins remaining hard and the fruit on this showing in retreat, making for a rather hard, untypical wine from a property where the blend is 90% Merlot, 5% each of Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Sauvignon. With the wine too mature for it to have been a phase in the development we either had a hard bottle or the 1995 at Troplong Mondot is ungenerous in character.

Nobody can ever accuse good Sauternes wines of being ungenerous, however, and our sumptuous 1990 Chateau Raymond-Lafon was no exception. Though unclassified, this property has, since it was purchased by Pierre Meslier and his family in the 1970's, been transformed into a little superstar, helped enormously by the fact that Mr. Meslier was at the time the technical director of Chateau d'Yquem, possibly the best and certainly consistently the most sought-after and expensive wine in the Sauternes  appellation. Skilfully exploiting both his deep knowledge and connections Pierre Meslier and his family managed to quickly achieve both excellent quality and a glowing reputation, to the envy of some of his more highly-rated vineyards. I was fortunate to attend a tasting in London around the 1980s sometime presented by Madame Meslier, Pierre's wife, and was much impressed by the attention to detail of Raymond-Lafon wines, rating them highly. If they manage to charge more than other, more highly rated and perhaps better, wines is not a point against Raymond-Lafon but against the buyers who support this and allow it to happen, though if the end customer is happy we can say nothing.

Raymond-Lafon is a botrytis wine, sweet, big and luscious, exotic yet earthy, full of notes of ripe white fruits and creme brûlée, the 1990 came from a big, ripe vintage and displayed all of those characteristics while still being full of life, rich but not blowsy. Perhaps it lacked the finesse and complexity of an absolutely top wine from a top vintage, but I 'ain't complainin' - I just love these wines and all they give us! Currently rather unfashionable, difficult to produce and therefore expensive but currently hard to sell at a decent price to make a living - Yquem is an exception, obviously - they are a glorious anachronism and may soon become a thing of the past. I hope I don't live to see their passing, for the world would be a far more boring place without them.

I closed with a rare grappa (a special bottling for a friend of Levi and also ours) from the Levi stable from the time when the old folks were alive. I've raved about these before, as they are rare in their finesse and complexity and may never be equalled or bettered. Like a fine cognac, these are works of art and I am grateful to YT for occasionally allowing me to enjoy one.

Aren't I the lucky one?

Bordeaux wine on a spring evening

Bordeaux wines are impressive, expensive beasts, at least at the top levels, full of class and power; the tables or the powerful, rich and famous are their normal stomping grounds. In the last 30-35 years they are impeccably made and beautifully aged in the best oak casks money can buy, resting in cellars that provide the ideal conditions. And well they must, of course, as they are the investment vehicles of the wine world, expected to be reliable and impressive.

Bordeaux is an area full of glamour, with beautiful chateaux all over the place, benefiting from a stellar reputation developed over centuries of serious wine-making and status building. The area is full of grand estates with many beautiful chateaux and correspondingly smart proprietors; it is a very status-conscious part of the world that makes great wines, thus supporting the status. The temperate climate guarantees good results most years, with the grape varieties used for the famed red wines providing a sturdy backbone of structure combined with finesse and, occasionally, lusciousness; technology can now ensure the indifferent or difficult years can also be decent. White dry wines exist here and range from the run-of-the-mill boring but gluggable bottles to the rare glorious curiosities. The sweet white wines are in a - currently less than fashionable - class of their own; why they are currently unloved when they offer, at least at the serious level, huge satisfaction per sip plus value for money is beyond me - but then, so is most fashion.

These days, as I am not fully active in the wine trade and with Covid-19 restricting me to Athens, I get few chances to try a mature, decent Bordeaux red, so it was with great pleasure that I greeted my friend YT (you know him and his generosity well by now, dear reader) knowing that he had brought to a mutual friend's dinner a magnum (large bottle the size of 2 normal 75 cl. bottles for the uninitiated) of 1994 Chateau Brane-Cantenac. Based in the commune of Cantenac-Margaux and deserving of the Margaux appelation, it used to have a terrific reputation in the distant past and was classified as a 2nd Growth (2eme Cru) in the 1855 classification of Bordeaux Chateaux, but went into decline by the early 20th century. The Lurton family of Bordeaux wine producers have, since purchasing it in 1922, slowly but surely dragged it back up where it belongs, with our magnum a testament to this: textbook Margaux silky seductiveness, youthful for its age ethereal complex red cherry fruit and balanced tannins making this a most enjoyable glass of wine, belying the fact that it came from an 'off' vintage. Well-made, mature but lively, perfectly poised and full of Margaux charm - the nose in particular was especially impressive, gloriously complex, rich and elegant - this was satisfaction in a glass.

Since I first became involved in wine many moons ago, I have always admired Bordeaux and its wines, primarily for their business-like approach, their commitment to excellence and their consistency. My passion, however, has been for Burgundy, that intriguing little plot of land either side of Beaune, a site of tiny vineyards, small wineries and - at the best level - unimaginably complex wines. The people there are, by and large, people of the soil, ordinary villagers, with few grand chateaux and mostly village housing, but the area holds me in its spell. Having said that, a good Bordeaux ready to drink is something very special, a sight to behold, a bottle to be greatly appreciated, just like our magnum of Brane-Cantenac 1994. Not as complex and beguiling as a top Burgundy, perhaps, but pleasing in its own way nevertheless, a charming 25-year old worth going out of your way for.

How lucky I am, retsina one night, a 2nd growth Bordeaux another, all the wonders of the world in my glass and with good company to boot...  I don't know what is to follow, but I'm grateful in advance.