“The doubtful comforts of human love”: The Red Shoes

Last week I watched the restored version of Powell and Pressburger’s The Red Shoes at BFI Southbank.

As I have written elsewhere on this blog, I am a huge fan of The Archers’ films. I first saw The Red Shoes about 15 years ago and I must have watched it dozens of times since then but never on a cinema screen, though I have seen Black Narcissus, A Matter of Life and Death and The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp as they were meant to be seen.

The new print is dazzling for its lush Technicolor photography, as bright as a Matisse painting. Indeed, so sharp is the image that the actors’ makeup is all too apparent sometimes. Anton Walbrook’s magnificent performance as Boris Lermontov is reinforced by the close-up shots of his face as his obsession with Vicky turns to paranoia.

The famed 17-minute ballet sequence is an extraordinary achievement and is surely the apotheosis of Powell’s ambition of “total cinema”, merging film, music, art and dance into one medium. It is an ecstatic piece of film and dance, one of the outstanding achievements in British, indeed world, cinema.

The film looks wonderful but the soundtrack is still rather mucky, with a lot of hiss undermining the marvellous score by Brian Easdale. I have a bootleg CD from Spain of the soundtrack and that is no better. But Kate Bush’s The Red Shoes album, inspired by the film of course, is rather better produced!

Dr Herbert Kalmus, who invented Technicolor, and his wife Natalie did not agree on much but they always maintained that The Red Shoes was the finest of all Technicolor films.

It is a wonderful film. Go and see it.

Is it art? Anish Kapoor at The Royal Academy of Arts

On Sunday evening (6 December), I visited the Anish Kapoor exhibition at The Royal Academy of Arts on Piccadilly.

As I wandered round the vaguely phallic or yonic big “works” by Kapoor, which often impress for their size alone, I kept thinking to myself “Is it art?”

The Non-Objects series of meticulously polished stainless steel, for example, were treated by most people as a chance to look at their distorted reflection, the Royal Academy’s gallery turned into a hall of mirrors.

Shooting into the Corner has a cannon firing shells of red wax every twenty minutes, the operation performed by a young RA (Royal Academy not Royal Artillery!) intern or volunteer (as I suppose he was). The result is a great big mess of red wax splattered over the usually immaculate walls and ceilings of the RA. The sheer bloody mess he has made in the building is rather amusing and daring. It is the finest use of cannons since the 1812 Overture!

Svayambh fills five galleries. A huge block of red wax (again) moves very slowly along a track through the five rooms, gradually leaving behind a great big mess of red wax (again).

Of course, the wax pieces can never be reproduced identically when exhibited in different places. It would not be entirely disingenuous of Kapoor to give each one a new name – they are all “unique” pieces.

Kapoor’s work is not “art” (or at least “fine art”) in the conventional sense of the word. It is not – to me anyway – “beautiful.” His work is more often representative of engineering rather than draughtsmanship. But it does stimulate the senses: The cannon of Shooting into the Corner made everybody jump and the ubiquitous red wax looks like blood and guts. It stimulates something primal within us and provokes strong responses – like this blog post! That surely is a defining characteristic of great art.

Been Doon So Long: A Randall Grahm Anthology

The Bonny Doon winemaker Randall Grahm has just published an anthology of his quirky writing.

Please have a look here for a full review.

Conrad Frankel at Art Work Space

On 19 November, the Irish artist Conrad Frankel’s debut UK exhibition “The First People” opened at Art Work Space gallery in London.

The basement of a Bayswater hotel is a very unlikely place to find an art gallery. The Hempel Hotel is tucked away in Craven Gardens and is a pig of a place to find if you have not been there before – especially on a windy night in November. But Naomi Murtagh, partner of Bottle Apostle’s Andrew Eakin, has found a very striking venue in which to showcase art.

“The First People” showcases 17 of Conrad Frankel’s oil on canvas works based on nineteenth century portrait photographs. The combination of forensic draughtsmanship and a varnish finish makes the paintings look from a distance as if they really are photographs.

The thousand yard – or rather, five second exposure – stare of the subjects gives them a slightly unnerving tone. Some of the portraits have a very subtle hint of flesh tones on the cheeks, barely discernible except up close.

Conrad Frankel, "Twins", oil on canvas, varnished, 60" x 48"

Prices for the Frankel canvases range from £500 for the 3.75″ x 4.25″ Tiny Sisters to £5,500 for 60″ x 48″ pictures.

The exhibition runs until 14 January 2010.

Bumping into Pete Doherty

I spent this afternoon at a friend’s party to celebrate the publication of her book. The do was at The Rosemary Branch in Islington, in one of those parts of London where poverty and riches lie side by side as in a Dickens novel.

While fetching drinks in the downstairs bar a scruffy young sod ambled in. It was Pete Doherty.

The first thing that I noticed was his height. He is a six footer. I am only 5′7″ so he dwarfed me.

Then I noticed the tattoos on his neck. Not a good look, Peter.

His hair hadn’t been washed for a few days. I cannot claim the moral high ground on that – when I was 18 I didn’t wash my hair for six months.

Making my way back upstairs he was blocking my way. Whichever way I went he followed. Knowing that everybody was looking at him, Doherty put on a performance. It was like the scene in the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup when Harpo copies Groucho’s moves exactly until they eventually collide.

Doherty asked “Which way are you going mate?” and then finally I was able to pass.

So that is how I “met” Pete Doherty on a Sunday afternoon in north London. I am not a great fan of his music – Carl Barât was the brains in The Libertines, I reckon. And as far as cocky young musicians go, Johnny Borrell of Razorlight is for me the best. He likes cricket, which is always the sign of a gentleman.

My friend Ann Tilyer’s book is called An A-Z of Possible Worlds. It is a collection of 26 short stories presented in a box.

It is great. Please buy it.

Chile con carne: A speech on the UK market and Chilean wine

On 8 October, I was invited to give a speech at the Technical University Federico Santa María in Valparaíso on “the prospects of (Chilean wine in) international markets from 2010–2015, with a medium to long term perspective and to visualize the position of Chile therein.”

The seminar was called “PVINO VALPARAÍSO” and sought “to integrate related media managed by experts, winemakers, export managers, commerce, hotels, restaurants, tour operators, journalists, Chilean wine companies, and associations attached to the industry.”

My speech is reproduced below. We were permitted 15 minutes, à la Warhol.

A colleague, who very bravely gave the first speech, said that I was “very cool” when I spoke. But he had noticed my leg under the table, jumping around like a loose hosepipe…

Perspective of wine on the International Markets 2010–2015

PVINO VALPARAÍSO

Universidad Técnica Federico Santa María

8 October 2009

SDG presenting to PVINO VALPARAÍSO.

Chile has long had connections to the English wine trade. It is praised in The Narrative of the Honourable John Byron, a 1768 account of how he was shipwrecked on the coast of Patagonia and the survivors decided to split into two teams, one to make its way by boat to Rio de Janeiro, the other, Byron’s, to sail north and meet Spanish-speakers.

Nearly 250 years later, the UK is the most valuable wine importing market in the world and until recently was Chile’s number one export outlet. The latest MAT data reveals that, to June 2008, the UK imported 94 million litres of Chilean wine valued at US$229 million. But to June 2009, this had dropped to US$218 million.

Rule Britannia! SDG tasting at the Concours Mondial de Brussels Chile 2009.

Despite the great challenges of the current UK market to all wine producers, Chile has much to be pleased about. According to the most recent ACNielsen statistics released in June, which cover an extremely difficult period in the UK—indeed, global—economy, Chile’s value is rising faster than its volume. Its average bottle price has increased significantly, from £3.71 in 2003 to £4.13 in 2009, against the current UK average of £4.26. This is Chile’s highest ever-average price, though perhaps one should bear in mind that after taxes have been deducted, it is equivalent to £1.98. Probably the growth would not be so significant if it were not for those annual rises in duty and VAT on wine. But that does mean that the UK consumer is prepared to spend more money on wine when required to do so.

Chile comes in at number seven in the average price chart, just behind Argentina, which averages £4.16.

Currently Chile is in sixth place in its value share of the UK off-trade, behind Australia, USA, France, Italy and South Africa. It is ahead of Spain, Germany, New Zealand and Argentina. It has grown by 15 percent since 2008 to £396 million, growth second only to South Africa, which has grown by 35 percent.

Its volume share of the UK off-trade market is 8.2 percent, also its highest ever. In 2003, Chile’s share was 5.9 percent.

Chile’s share of the off-trade by value is now 7.9 percent. Only six of the top 13 countries by value have shown an increase since June 2008. The top three nations—Australia, USA and France—have all declined. It is perhaps an opportunity for Chile to grab more market share, even if the UK economy remains deeply troubled. Gross domestic product (GDP) fell by 0.6 percent from April to June but there were signs of recovery over the summer and it was expected—or rather, hoped—that there would be growth in the third quarter.

Smug? Moi? SDG at Viñedos Puertas's Cuartel 46 Vineyard, overlooking the El Milagro stud farm.

Chile has done well in the independent off-trade sector over the last three years. It has made strong gains and, again, its value is rising faster than its volume.

Only 20 percent of all Chilean wine sold in the off-trade is at £5 or above but this is growing, up from 15 percent in 2007. This suggests that there might be a bright future for premium Chilean wine at more ambitious price points, particularly the £5–10 category.

To June 2009, Chile sold 41.1 percent white, 51.6 percent red and 7.2 percent rosé. So in the UK, Chile is still primarily considered as a supplier of red wine.

In the UK on-trade, the last two years have seen a significant decline overall, down nine percent by volume and down six percent by value. Australia has declined by 15 percent, South Africa by 16 percent and France by 13 percent. Only Chile, USA and Argentina have shown any on-trade volume growth in this period. Since 2004, Chile has increased its share from 6.5 percent to 9.5 percent, behind USA, Australia, Italy and France.

In terms of the UK market, then, Chile has many things in its favour—good quality, recognised brands such as Concha y Toro, Errázuriz and Viña Maipo; a relative lack of internal politics—think of how this continues to hobble France and Italy; and excellent viticultural resources—a great diversity of microclimates and phylloxera-free soils, much of which can be farmed in an environmentally-friendly manner. The climate change and water issues faced by other countries are far less grave in Chile.

At his lecture given to the WSET in 2003, Eduardo Chadwick referred to “talented young viticulturists and winemakers including Alvaro Espinoza, Marcelo Papa, Adolfo Hurtado, Nicolas Bizzarri and many other names that probably you have never heard of.” Of course, these have all since distinguished themselves. Chile is fortunate to have young, internationally trained winemakers such as these, a vinous version of the “Chicago Boys,” a group of young, well-travelled freethinkers.

SDG discussing Casa Marin's wines with Christian Callec and Sylvia Cava.

In terms of the wines themselves, I tasted over 60 wines, of different styles and price points, at the annual Wines of Chile tasting in London in early September. I rarely found wines that were over-oaked or had excessive levels of sulphur. Ethyl acetate, or volatile acidity, was sometimes a problem on the least expensive wines—but that would be true of everywhere. Among the newer bottlings, the Pinot Noirs are coming along nicely, I think.

There is undoubtedly great winemaking expertise in Chile. But perhaps Chilean wine needs to decide whether it wants to be big or beautiful. The wines seem to have lost the leafy freshness that made them so appealing a decade ago, with some winemakers nowadays trying too hard to gain power and richness at the expense of elegance and freshness. High alcohol and low acidity is an increasingly unfashionable pairing in the UK market, so Chile must strive to achieve freshness and civilised alcohol levels. The emergence of new, cool climate regions such as the Leyda Valley bodes well for producing wines in this style.

SDG and other tasters assessing Errázuriz wines.

Overall, Chile should continue to improve its already excellent viticultural, winemaking and marketing practices. Chile might also consider more widespread use of screwcap closures, which are well-suited to its commercial, fruit-driven wines. Quality shouldn’t be compromised. Even when times are hard, quality will always sell.

At the commercial level, Chile has done well. The various Concha y Toro brands, for example, represent excellent value for money. Chile certainly has it within itself to produce lots of good, fruity wines. But it has not yet created many fine, or “icon,” wines that would give the country a patina of high achievement and create more profits.

Of course it is quite possible that the best sites in Chile have not yet been planted or even discovered. The possibility of greatness is there—as the vines get older the wines should get better—but it is still too soon for Chile to claim it has world-class wines.

Production of DO wine in Chile has more than quadrupled since 1996. Grape plantings have increased by 120 percent since 1994. But Chile must avoid oversupply, which would ultimately wipe out all the gains made over the last few years. The effects of oversupply and discounting are now being felt painfully by Australia. Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand is now being discounted in UK supermarkets, which could prove fatal for its vaunted average bottle price.

Today Chile has about 6 percent of world exports of wine; Australia has about 9 percent. In the UK, Chile’s share, as mentioned earlier, is just over 8 percent, so slightly above its global share. Australia’s is over 20 percent, which shows how dependent it has become on the UK. Chile should try and spread its exports across as many markets as it can. It should not put all its eggs in the English basket. Chile should not allow itself to be seduced by the UK supermarkets, tempting as their offers might be. There is another 25 percent of the off-trade to be targeted, which includes nearly 700 good independent wine retailers.

Didn't they do well? SDG with award winners from Valdivieso.

To continue to make progress in the UK market, I think that Chile needs to continue to provide good value for money at all price points, particularly in the £5–10 range; it needs to offer a broad range of varietals and styles— “Day-coloured wine,/night-coloured wine,/wine with purple feet/or wine with topaz blood,” as Pablo Neruda puts it—but without sacrificing Chilean typicité or character. A lot of the wines that I tasted in London recently were perfectly correct but had little to define them as Chilean.

There is a scene in Pablo Larrain’s recent film Tony Manero in which the film’s protagonist Raul, who models himself on John Travolta’s disco king, is told by his girlfriend, “Manero is an American. You’re not. You belong here.” Chilean wine should not try and be Tony Manero. It should be Raul. Perhaps in the UK it needs to promote a stronger national identity to consumers. Australia has kangaroos and cricket. Argentina has football and tango. South Africa has lions and leopards. But for British people there is nothing that immediately comes to mind that is uniquely and recognisably Chilean. There is a lack of cultural links with the UK, no direct flights and little of the tourism that has assisted the wines of Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, but this can be overcome progressively. An identity would help but, on the other hand, negative associations, such as South Africa and Apartheid or Argentina and Maradona, have never hampered Chile.

Without a strong national identity, promoting regionality is some way off yet, I think. The Chilean “brand” needs to be well-established before any attempts at telling consumers the difference between the Elqui Valley and the Malleco Valley. Even Australia is still struggling to push the regional message. It can be done but it will take a long time.

SDG with fellow Concours tasters at Viña Miguel Torres Restaurant.

Gazing into the crystal ball, for the next five or six years I see more of the same in the UK market. There is likely to be ever-increasing taxation on wine and other alcoholic drinks, making price points harder to maintain and squeezing suppliers’ margins. The UK market is often described as “mature,” which is a euphemism for “saturated.” It is and will continue to be a tough place to sell wine.

When the Wines of Chile UK office was reopened in 2002, its vision, as part of a five-year plan, was “to be recognized as the New World’s preferred alternative source of Premium Wine to Australia.” It has not quite achieved this yet, with South Africa ahead of it at the moment. However, I understand that Wines of Chile is currently developing a long-term plan of about 25 years that is due for publication in the first quarter of 2010. I think it is important that there is a plan and everybody is seen to be pulling—or pushing—in the same direction. Think of how the Chicago Boys implemented their long-term economic plans in stages. It need not be another El Ladrillo but Chilean wine needs to have a clear direction.

Michael Cox, the outstanding head of Wines of Chile in the UK, told me, “In my view the future of the Chilean wine business looks extremely positive for many reasons, and the opportunities are substantial. In fact, after nearly 40 years in the wine trade, I have never been more excited about one country’s ability to prosper. I know I am biased (!) but I genuinely feel it.”

So, I would suggest keeping it simple: Make good, fresh wines that are value for money and have something uniquely Chilean about them. There is no need to complicate things like Joseph Conrad does in his Chilean-set novel Nostromo.

I would urge Wines of Chile not to be like the Chilean government was in 1859, when it abandoned all the hard work done by William Wheelwright in establishing a railway over the Andes to join Chile and Argentina. Be like Wheelwright—and keep building that line to Britain!

Coffee, horses and donkeys: Grumpy Mule coffee tasting

Although I have been to a few wine tastings in my time, I had never been to a coffee tasting. But on 22 October, the Yorkshire-based importer Grumpy Mule presented a tasting of coffees at Waterstone’s on Piccadilly.

Ian Balmforth and Damian Blackburn of Grumpy Mule.

There are two main coffee bean varietals: Robusta, which is hardy, generally grown at lower altitudes and has a big dose of caffeine, and Arabica, which has less of the aforementioned attributes.

Damian Blackburn, Grumpy Mule’s Quality Assurance Manager, gave me a tutored tasting of 13 coffees. The tasting technique for coffee is essentially the same as that for wine—an assessment by nose and then plenty of slurping in the mouth.

Uganda Robusta (control sample)

Burnt rubber, smoky. Not subtle.

Brasil Santos Arabica (control sample)

Much more refined, with a noticeably “cooler climate” aroma.

Sumatra KBQB Cooperative (certified Organic and Fairtrade certified Arabica)

Grumpy Mule’s best-selling coffee, produced by a cooperative of 1,600 smallholder members.

Sort of halfway between the first two coffees, though perhaps a bit closer in style to Santos than Uganda. Mild palate.

Ethiopia Harar, Illili Derartu Cooperative from the Oromia Coffee Farmers Cooperative Union (certified Organic and Fairtrade certified Arabica)

Grown at 2,000 metres altitude but surprisingly quite low in acidity. Winey! With the addition of hot water during the second assessment, it showed blueberry aromas.

Kenya Gethumbwini Estate Lot (Arabica)

The beans for this were “fully washed”, which, according to coffeereview.com, means “coffee prepared by removing the skin and pulp from the bean while the coffee fruit is still moist. In the traditional wet process, the coffee skins are removed (pulping), the skinned beans are allowed to sit in tanks where enzymes loosen the sticky fruit pulp or mucilage (fermentation), after which the loosened fruit is washed off the beans (washing).”

Brighter nose and more acidity than the previous coffee—washing intensifies acidity, apparently.

Rwanda Musasa, Dukunde Kawa Cooperative, Bourbon Arabica

Bright style again. Clean and fresh with the addition of hot water.

Tanzania “Footprint”, Blackburn Estate Peaberries (Arabica)

“Deeper” than the previous pair, with a bitter, chocolaty palate.

Guatemala Pocola, Finca Santa Paula (Arabica)

“Green” and leafy.

Costa Rica Finca La Pira (2009 Cup of Excellence award winning lot Arabica)

A bit richer than the Guatemalan coffee but still suggesting “cool climate” origins.

Panama Esmeralda Special 2009 “Mario San Jose”, Hacienda La Esmeralda, Geisha Arabica (micro-lot)

Very perfumed, with orange particularly noticeable. Lovely and very unusual, and probably my favourite of the tasting. A 227g bag costs almost as much as a good bottle of Premier Cru white Burgundy!

Nicaragua La Picona, Maragogipe Arabica (2009 Cup of Excellence award winning lot)

Herbal, especially on the finish.

Colombia Las Delicias Arabica (2009 Cup of Excellence award winning lot)

Smoky, with a milk chocolate finish.

Brazil Fazenda Santa Terezinha Arabica (certified Organic)

Pungent and chocolaty. Less acidity than the Colombian.

Jamaica Blue Mountain, Clifton Mount Estate (Arabica)

Mild and a bit smoky.

Andrew Jefford wrote a splendid feature on tea and wine a couple of years ago but I think there is a good article still to be written on the relationship and parallels between coffee and wine, involving extensive travel and research in Central and South America, East Africa, Asia, the Pacific and the Caribbean…

More seriously, there are clear parallels between the structure of the wine and coffee industries. I read recently that the 14 clans that commanded El Salvador’s coffee industry have morphed over recent years into eight conglomerates.  The same has happened to, for example, the Australian wine industry. It is a depressing scenario…

E9 Disciples: The Bottle Apostle

On 21 October, the Hackney wine merchant Bottle Apostle held a belated “launch party” hosted by owner Andrew Eakin and General Manager Tom Jarvis.

Bottle Apostle opened in July in what used to be Frocks restaurant. The building is in a snug retail strip of boutiques shops and cafes next to Victoria Park in Hackney, an area frequented by yummy mummies and the like. It is an East End version of Bellevue Road and Wandsworth Common, my local “nappy valley”.

The shop has four Enomatic machines that maintain eight wines each, so on any given day 32 wines, typically 16 each of red and white, can be sampled.

These Enomatics cost £8,750 each—quite an investment. Argon gas is pumped into the bottles and can keep a wine fresh for up to four weeks. “They’re labour intensive,” explains Tom. “You have to clean them and change the bottles.” Sometimes they don’t behave—but they are Italian-built.

Customers buy a “Bottle Apostle Smartcard” and then top it up with however much they like, à la Oyster. The appropriate amount is then deducted when a wine is selected from the Enomatic.

The wines are not as grand, or at least not as expensive, as those available by the glass at The Sampler in Islington or Selfridges’ Wonder Bar—no Pétrus here. But despite being in the East End it is a more salubrious location, I think, with the Ginger Pig butchers next door but one. All very civilised.

“We’re not specialists in any given area,” says Tom, who worked at Oddbins before teaching wine courses at Kensington and Chelsea College of Further Education. Tarlant Brut Zero sells well, reinforcing the notion that low dosage Champagnes have become fashionable. A dozen beers and ciders are also stocked and there is a room downstairs for tastings, dinners and so on.

They’re doing well in a difficult period. “Now we’re starting phase 2, to expand beyond the local area and keep the van busy,” Tom said.

I tried the following wines, all of which were sound examples of their type and less than £3 a pop.

Seresin Sauvignon Blanc 2008

I spent some time at this estate during my first visit to New Zealand in 2004. This 2008 is richer in style than I remember it, though the barrel-influenced Maremma version was always a big mouthful.

Casa do Mouraz Dão 2007

Green pear skin flavours, with a dry and rather austere finish. Probably a good pairing with bacalhau.

Monte da Peceguina Vinho Regional Alentejano 2008

Fruity, warming finish. Slightly weird, hard to place nose—but it is made from fairly obscure Portuguese varieties!

Mollydooker Two Left Feet McLaren Vale 2008

A leviathan. 16.5 percent alcohol but not as daunting as expected. Nonetheless, as Richard Thompson sang, “How can you dance with two left feet?”

My friend and Hackney resident Jane Egginton has done a post about Bottle Apostle on her blog at http://hackneyhome.blogspot.com/ – well worth a look, especially if you live in the East End.

Open up that Golden Gate: Travels in California

“Joni Mitchell’s voice and guitar wafted through the speakers as the plane landed in San Francisco…”

The young Joni Mitchell

How’s that for the opening sentence to a pulp thriller? At any rate, it was a nice way to arrive in California.

The mood turned Hitchcockian when I was unable to find the driver who had been sent to collect me by my host Dr SuHua Newton. Eventually we found each other—he had even walked right past me while I was sat outside in the sun reading David Frith’s Bodyline Autopsy, one of the best cricket books ever.

Of course, the drive into (or rather past) the city was for me thrilling, especially over the Golden Gate Bridge. I had been told that I would be staying at Dr Newton’s “hotel” in Mill Valley, a prosperous suburb just north of SF. I thought I was staying in her house, so I was bemused to learn that I would be parked in a hotel and one that wasn’t even in the city. When I arrived, all was revealed. The “hotel” turned out to be a splendid house that Dr Newton uses as her office. It was Friday so I would have it all to myself for the weekend.

We went for dinner that evening at a the Tong Kiang restaurant and drank a half-bottle of 2001 Newton Vineyards Merlot, which was mature, balanced and supple though rather short.

Mill Valley, looking towards San Francisco

On Saturday morning I woke up and gazed from the patio across Richardson Bay to the city, which was shrouded in thick fog. It was cool too, “a nipping and an eager air.” The climate of San Francisco and the Bay Area is extraordinarily capricious.

I caught a ferry from Sausolito to the city. Taking a punt on the sunshine that had emerged earlier that morning, I was in shorts and sandals. I froze as the ferry alternately bobbed across the water through thick fog or bright sunshine.

Dr Newton told me off for leaning out of her car window while she was showing me round the city. (She is a very impatient driver). Apparently some kid had his arms or legs sheared off by a passing car when leaning out of the window so a law banning such things was passed hastily. San Francisco’s weather is capricious but so is its legislation. In the city of Haight-Ashbury, the Beat Generation, hippies and the Summer of Love you cannot even lean out of a car window without breaking the law. This famously liberal city is bound up by legislation tighter than the bark on a Giant Sequoia.

It has a dark and disturbing underbelly, too. There is a magnificent and sombre film made in 2004 by Eric Steel that explores why so many people end their lives at the Golden Gate Bridge. The images captured by Steel of people leaping from the bridge into the icy water are shocking and linger in the viewer’s memory like a bad dream.

Pacific Heights, San Francisco

On a more cheerful note, Dr Newton lives in a Pacific Heights house with magnificent views across the city and harbour. We sat in her lounge eating, drinking, talking and watching the occasional container ship go past Alcatraz as it headed out to sea. The ships were rarely fully-loaded, their plimsoll lines usually visible. The shipping industry has been hit hard by the “crisis”. I visited some friends in Hamburg recently and they told me that for a couple of days last autumn the usually thriving shipyards there were eerily still. If local residents were spooked just imagine what it would be like if you worked in that industry.

On Saturday evening we went to a Thai restaurant called Yukol and drank 1982 Newton Vineyards Merlot. The nose was cedary and good but the palate was drying out and left acidity rather than fruit on the finish. Nonetheless, it was a rare treat.

A taxi was ordered at closing time to get me back to Mill Valley. Dr Newton was due on a nightshift in her role as a paediatrician. She is an extraordinary lady—a winemaker and doctor of medicine, with qualifications in every subject imaginable. She also paints well, speaks several languages and used to be a model. What a woman she is! I hope that somebody captures her remarkable life in words before it is too late.

In London, taxi drivers always know where they’re going. If they don’t, they consult a map or SatNav. I assumed my man would know where to go. He didn’t. Nor did I. It was late, it was dark, I had barely seen any of Mill Valley and I was tired. So we drove for at least an hour around Mill Valley to find the “hotel.” He had the courtesy to switch off the fare machine but I had been advised $40 would cover the trip from SF to Mill Valley. So that is what I offered him.

“You’re kidding?”

No, I wasn’t. This led to an earful of abuse. I pointed out to him that UK cabbies usually have a map handy. Why didn’t he?

He wanted to know why I didn’t know the way.

“Are you slow or somethin’?’”

Something, since you ask. And I’m too tired to argue and want to go to bed. More abuse. He sped off before I could note his registration plate. But, like Jerry Garcia, I believe in Karma.

"Captain Trips"—Jerry Garcia

Sunday was spent in a very warm Napa, the temperature hitting nearly 90 degrees that day. Dr Newton showed me her Carneros Vineyard, which supplies grapes for the Unfiltered Chardonnay. Lara Abbott, Domaine Chandon’s and Newton’s Australian-born but US-raised PR, joined us here. She took my digs over The Ashes in good humour. I had been reading about Bodyline, after all.

The Razi vineyard was also visited. The owner had a charming ticking-off (sic) from Dr Newton over various things, irrigation and burned grapes and so on. She explained to me afterwards how she turns on the charm to get the best out of people. A good lesson for life!

I joined a tour group at Newton Vineyards to have a look around the estate. It’s a long way up—the pine tree that is shown on the bottle labels is at 1,700 feet above sea level. Some of the vineyards surrounding Newton’s winery are at a 60-degree slope—nowadays, new plantings are only permitted at up to 30.

Lunch was at the Auberge du Soleil restaurant up in the hills at Rutherford. SuHua and Lara cooed at Colin, the boyish-looking and charming sommelier. It was very good, especially the cookies made to order for Dr Newton. Being a generous soul, she let me and Lara try them.

The afternoon was spent with John Caldwell at his estate in Coombsville. I had arranged to meet John after having had to request images from him for a brilliant Jonathan Swinchatt article that I edited in my previous dayjob.

John and Joy Caldwell

John used to sell his grapes to Pahlmeyer Winery and others but began bottling his own wines with the 1998 vintage, though production has remained tiny at less than 1,000 cases per year.

The red wines are big and fleshy, especially the Proprietary Red. Caldwell Vineyards’ winemaker is Marbue Marke—from Sierra Leone! But he hasn’t yet made a blend called “Palm-wine music.”

The Caldwell bottles with the “C” logo mould cost $3.50 each, John told me. Money is tight but “I love it too much to sell.” He and his wife Joy have a young family. He’s one of the good guys and deserves his successes.

Three days is hardly enough to see California but I was due back in New York on Monday night.

At JFK airport I was refreshing myself with a beer when a car ad appeared on the bar’s TV screen. It was subtitled “Do not attempt yourself. Professional driver on an enclosed track.” Only in America…

No sleep till Brooklyn: Travels in New York

This was my first visit to the USA. Ashes series meant that I always went east out of Heathrow. But an increasing number of friends Stateside made it more attractive to visit than ever. Accommodation and guided tours would be free. All I had to do was turn up.

The flight was entertaining. Departure was late because of a Spanish-speaking prima donna. The entire plane could overhear her complaints. She was booked into first class but had turned up late and her seat had been given to somebody else. So she had to sit next to me in cattle class. “This is so unfair,” she moaned. Life is unfair, isn’t it? Especially when you don’t get that extra six inches of legroom you paid for. She decided that being sat next to me for six hours was intolerable, so off she went.

“Close the door behind you, please.”

She cut me a filthy look.

There was also a group of Hasidic Jews, who made such a fuss of finding their seats. It must have taken them 20 minutes to be happy with their seating arrangements. They made a bit of a mess with their nibbles and biscuits. A (white American, presumably well-off) lady seated close to me said, “My, they’re a bunch of slobs.” It would not be the last time I heard such casual racism on this trip.

I was met at Newark by the delightful Bernardette Lyon, a friend of a friend who I’d met only twice before. For my first night in NYC she had very generously invited me to stay at her mother’s house in Brooklyn. We drove into Manhattan, me grinning like Joe Buck in Midnight Cowboy as he looks around NYC for the first time.

SDG and Bernardette in Brooklyn

Bernardette took me on a tour of Brooklyn, including Saturday Night Fever territory in Bay Ridge. I think we went through Bensonhurst, too, where that brilliant car chase was filmed for The French Connection. The obligatory pizza was followed by dinner at Tatiana in Brighton Beach, or “Little Odessa.” There are lots of Russians in London (in Belgravia, anyway) but I’m sure Bernardette and me were the only non-reds in the hood.

We walked along the boardwalk towards Coney Island, sat underneath the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge (Saturday Night Fever again), walked down Cranberry Street where Moonstruck was filmed, and then refuelled at Junior’s, a Brooklyn joint famous for its cheesecakes. A slice about the size of the Isle of Wight (or Staten Island) was put in front of me. Bernardette and the waiter were amused by my horror at the amount of calories on my plate.

The final pit-stop was at Farrell’s, just up the road from Bernardette’s place and where a scene in As Good As It Gets was made (so many films today!).  Bernardette had never been in there, which seemed surprising at the time but once inside I could see why… It is a very macho, Irish/cops place, though the regulars turned out to be friendly enough and we stayed there until 2am. Bernardette has vowed not to go again unless it’s with me, bless her.

An American Football match was on the TV in the bar. I have not yet grasped how this sport works but today (22 October) I was at The Oval cricket ground to see a friend. The pitch was being prepared for a “top secret” training session by the New England Patriots (or Tampa Bay Buccaneers, I can’t remember which) ahead of Sunday’s NFL match at Wembley. They are completely paranoid about their practices being filmed, my friend told me. She won’t be allowed in the The Oval tomorrow (she works there!) and the Americans had expressed great concern about the flats that overlook the ground. They were politely told that nothing could be done about that. My friend also said that the team’s cheerleaders have a full-time (male) manager. The best job in the world or the worst? We couldn’t decide.

After one night chez Bernardette, I spent the next three nights on the other side of Prospect Park with Lisa Granik MW and her partner Sandy at their splendid house.

Lisa is smart, funny and very candid—which is to say she speaks with great honesty and integrity. Her brilliant mind (and palate), lesbianism and links to Russia mean that she does not fit easily into the mainstream.

Lisa invited me to a dinner in Chinatown with several of her friends and colleagues. Before coming to the restaurant I met Lisa and her friend Gaetano and we tried the esoteric Domaine Ferret Pouilly-Fuissé Le Clos Tête de Cru 2004—as puzzling as The Times crossword—and a quite lovely Huet Le Mont Sec 2005, with not a discordant note anywhere. I brought with me to the restaurant two vintages of Dr von Bassermann-Jordan’s Deidesheimer Kalkofen Riesling Spätlese Trocken. The 2001 was very tightly coiled, with acidity like the lash of a bullwhip. By comparison, the 2002 was a big softie. It was hard to believe that two such different wines came from the same vineyard and cellar.

We also tried some Champagnes—a simple Jacques Lassaigne Les Vignes de Montguex Blanc de Blancs NV; a good Piper Heidsieck Rare 1999 and Taittinger Comtes de Champagne Rosé 1999 (though not at all flattered by the restaurant’s glassware); and a woody and fat Vilmart Grand Cellier NV.

Lisa, being a responsible adult, went back home after dinner but the rest of went for cocktails in the West Village. I was asked by one of our dinner companions, “Don’t you ever laugh?” It’s true that my natural expression is a curmudgeonly frown. But I do laugh at things that I find amusing (as this picture taken at Santiago airport proves).

By midnight only Gaetano and myself were left standing. We went to a bar where he knew (and fancied) the manageress. A youngish bloke and four younger ladies parked themselves on the table next to us. I struck up a conversation with one of them, “Kath, from Michigan.” She was blonde, had lips that implied the assistance of collagen, and wore a skirt slightly narrower than my belt. At first glance she was attractive She told me she had studied Victorian Literature in Glasgow. I was excited—perhaps finally I had found an intellectual soul mate wearing a two-inch skirt.

“And who is your favourite Victorian poet?”

“Oh, I think that would be Edmund Spenser.”

SDG and Kath from Michigan

Kath then made me an offer that normally I simply could not refuse. But, having put Spenser in the nineteenth century, I declined. Perhaps they do teach Spenser as part of the Victorian Literature course in Glasgow. But more likely Kath was a dumb blonde who was drunk or stoned or both. She looked thoroughly discombobulated by my refusal. As Spenser wrote: “But the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit,/And vertuous mind, is much more praysed of me.”

Gaetano did not believe that I had received such an offer. I told him to ask Kath. Then he was downright disgusted at me for refusing it.

The chaperone, who spoke fluent Italian, claimed to be an “erm, historian” and blinked nervously like the villain in Hitchcock’s Young and Innocent, was a very odd fellow. Think of Ed Balls’ (the UK Secretary of State for Children, Schools and Families) twitching eyes, too—would you trust him? I suspect that accepting Kath’s offer might have meant an exchange of cash before anything else.

I got back to Brooklyn at 5am. Fortunately I did not have any appointments that day and was able to sleep off my evening of over-indulgence. But in-between the cocktails, interesting offers and hangovers, I did actually do some work. I went to the “California Wine Rush” tasting at Grand Central station, Terry Theise’s “Tasting Grower Champagne: Your how-to Guide” and a Sauternes tasting at Vermilion Restaurant.

I interviewed Jamie Ritchie, Sotheby’s head of wine, and have written-up this for Harpers. Rik Pike of Christie’s was met on an informal basis. I also caught the train from Grand Central to Scarsdale to speak with Jeff Zacharia at his enormous and copiously stocked Zachys store.

After four nights in New York, I went to California for the weekend before returning to NYC  for one night. I had planned to stay in the airport but all the best sleeping spots had already been taken and I needed to wash and rest. So I paid $170 for the privilege of staying in a very basic Best Western hotel next to the airport. Ouch.

That left me with a full day to kill before flying to Brazil in the evening. I raced around the city, doing all the cheesy things that English tourists are supposed to do— walking through Central Park, going to the top of the Empire State Building, eating hotdogs, seeing the Yankee and Citi Field stadiums, the Chelsea Hotel, walking over Brooklyn Bridge, the Staten Island Ferry… I also did a few things that would only occur to me, like going to the building at St. Mark’s Place in the East Village that was used for the cover of Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti. (My dad was at school with John Bonham!).

Other things that amused me during this first trip to NYC included the umbrella salesman on the subway and his rhyming sales rap—“It’s going to rain, it’s such a pain, buy an umbrella, it’ll last forever” or something similar. At the Chinatown restaurant there was a reassuring sign in the loo: “Employees must wash their hands before returning to work.”

I will write about my travels in California, Brazil and Chile soon…