It may come as a surprise to many of you that I tend not to drink whiskey much (if at all) these days. Johnny Black and soda just doesn’t roll off the tongue as well as rhum et ananas, t-punch or le bite dans cu when I’m parler-ing in my best Franglais, so I’ve tended not to bother with it recently (getting that throaty ‘rrrr’ sound out right I find very addictive too). However, having just completed a two week tour of Scotland and England and with only a few days left ‘til we head to the States I thought it appropriate to raise a glass and enter into another gripping monologue. (For the record too, I never really knew why it was that my blue blooded palate has usually preferred blended whiskies rather than single malts but that dram of 18 year old Chivas we had at the Strathisla distillery was definitely worth toasting with).
Following on from our culinary successes (just look out for that reference to The Goulaszes in this next year’s Michelin guide – we’re sure to be in there) we had the sad realisation that we’d never forked out for a Michelin star restaurant – perhaps not that surprising given that the guide’s only started to cover cities outside of Europe in the last few years (and Sydney isn’t on the list yet) but inexcusable nonetheless. So amongst all those taxing powder sessions (hey we worked really hard on Nic’s skiing – it was a full time job in effect... have I mentioned that we skied fresh, dry powder just days before they closed the resort too? I will get over the fact that we’re no longer skiing eventually... though it may just take a little while :(), the crazy parties and planning our tour of North America we thought we’d better look into remedying this.
Anyway, despite London being reputed to be the most Michelin starred city in Europe (though we do reckon the British just perpetuate these sorts of rumours to make themselves appear to know anything about cuisine), we figured there was no better place than Paris, the home of gastronomy, to embark on this experience. So, in consultation with our resident expert on the finer things in life Steven (how is it that a 24 year old can know so much about great food and wine?), we found ourselves booking a night at Alain Senderens. The appeal here was that he had removed the tablecloths, he had returned the 3 Michelin stars that he had held for over 28 years in protest to all the pomp and the average 400 euro per person price tag that often associated with eating in these sorts of establishments, he was attributed with inventing ‘nouvelle cuisine’ in France, his degustation menu looked better than all the others we had looked at but perhaps most importantly he happened to be cheaper than most other 2 Michelin star restaurants in Paris :).
Following a long day of pounding the pavements of Paris in search of that perfect happy snap (it needs to be said that I’ve become totally obsessed with this new sport – hey something had to take over from skiing... hmmm... I will be alright... the season had to come to an end I suppose :(), with tripod in one hand and camera in the other, wearing our finest (or is that only) jeans and only slightly smelly t-shirts we presented ourselves at the restaurant. Greeted with only a hint of bemused disapproval by the Maitres d’ we were soon seated, sipping a 1998 champagne, studying the menu and feeling only mildly disturbed that we were the most casually dressed in the whole restaurant – I know I should have packed a dinner jacket but I think I’ve been through Nic’s underwear obsession and our baggage situation already. Luckily a few fellow antipodeans, looking more dishevelled then ourselves were soon seated right next to us, absolving us of any feeling of unease and we were left to indulge in the ‘menu degustation avec vins’ for the next 3 hours. Without going into too much further detail this consisted of 7 courses with matching wines and it has to be said that the ‘foie gras de canard poche aux morilles, noix et curry’ or poached foie gras with morel mushrooms, nuts and curry has to be the most amazing dish I’ve ever had – and when I think about it I’ve had some pretty amazing dishes.
Quickly passing through London, let me firstly say that it was awesome to catch up with friends, inhabit Alex’s floor in Clapham for a couple of nights and see the place going nuts on account of some unusually good weather – it could have even been as warm as 25 degrees... this is virtually unheard of for the UK :). Given this we practically spent the whole of the weekend catching rays in commons and parks, barbequing and drinking loads of Pimms and lemonade – great stuff that and loads better sounding than Johnny Black and soda when I’m putting on my best geezer accent too.
Come Monday morning, just as the rest of London was recovering in the office from a solid weekend of drinking, we were nursing hangovers from the freezing discomfort of our tiny seats on the Megabus en-route to Edinburgh. Suffice it to say too that Alex’s fears from the weekend, that the whole of the UK would go into anarchy should the good weather persist (quite possible actually), should have largely been allayed with the prompt return of the usual woeful weather (drizzle and cold) as we headed up to Scotland – Alex, one fear you should never have is that the weather should be too good for too long in the UK. Following a painful, though absurdly cheap 9 hour bus trip it had seemed as if we had escaped the pursuing rain as we crossed the boarder into bonnie Scotland.
Staying with our mate John in Edinburgh for a few days we did the usual tourist things here. A visit to Edinburgh Castle resulted in a much needed history lesson; revealing the succession of Kings and Queens of Scotland, giving insight into their nationalistic pride and showcasing the crown jewels and the Stone of Destiny (or perhaps a good copy – it’s hotly debated whether Queen Elizabeth’s thrown still contains the original stone used in Scottish coronations or whether she’s given it back to the people of Scotland as claimed). We also got a real sense of history while chasing ghosts on a tour of Mary King’s Close (one of the many Closes or alleyways from the 16th century which since have been covered over), as we learned of how the people of the day lived and worked in their own excrement, eventually dying of the plague, and making this otherwise beautiful City one of the most haunted in the world. (I’m sure that was just John having fun with me rather than someone regularly tapping me on the shoulder down there :) – having said that, at least we didn’t have some spook hanging out with us for the next few weeks as Nic did the last time she visited the place). Apart from climbing Arthur’s Seat, having a great time hanging out with John, we also managed to get into a few Scottish delicacies such as haggis (or oats and offal cooked in sheep’s stomach for those of you salivating there – quite nice actually) and deep fried Mars bars – I’ve heard these were in fact invented in Bondi but perhaps we’ll have to let the nation that deep fries everything from burgers to pizzas (yes I’m not kidding here) lay claim to these.
Picking up a Holden (I mean Vauxhall) Corsa, that could have been a Vectra but was in fact an Astra – to clarify, the tightarse tip here is to book the cheapest rental car you can online and then upgrade to whatever you actually want when you arrive at the pick-up – we next ventured into the Scottish countryside. Heading over the Firth of Forth (or Forth of Firth if you’re a bit dyslexic like me – trying saying that five times really quickly)... sorry, just had to throw Firth of Firth of Firth into my blog somehow... we headed across Scotland’s oldest national park of Loch Lomond and the Trossachs in search of bens, glens, clans, drams and Jesus, Mary and Joseph... hmmm could be confusing Scotland with Ireland here... at least I didn’t suggest they were British though, that could’ve resulted in a beheading in these parts of the British kingdom – even in this day and age.
Anyway, moving swiftly though Killin and Oban, where we stayed a night at a time, we next landed in Gavin’s (Nic’s brother-in-law’s) home town and popular trekking/outdoor spot of Fort William. Walking through the glen and up the ben (doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?... just like ‘aye’... or maybe ‘shiver me timbers’... hmmm could be confusing the Scottish with the Pirate-ish here – who knows, they’re all similar barbarians really) we managed to bag a Munro by climbing the highest point in Britain, Ben Nevis – only 283 to go. For your information, a ben’s a hill (though there are 7 different types); a glen’s a pass between 2 bens (though it’s often confused with a strath which is a slightly wider type of valley) and; bagging Munros usually involves some Scot donning his kilt and enduring what’s likely significant shrinkage (bloody cold up there) as he climbs any ben that’s higher than 3000ft. Confused? Me too :) Though I will add that we were quite lucky to climb this 1340m hill given that Fort William receives 150 inches of rain a year and that I’m not at all surprised that Tash never made the 6 hour hike when she lived there for 2 years.
Following this grand feat of ours we next went in search of a just reward on the Malt Whiskey trail. Hard as it was to convince Nic that we ought to spend a day drinking whiskey we managed to take in a couple of distillery tours – can’t imagine why really... I mean just because she hates the taste of it doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to enjoy myself :). In truth it was my insistence that we visit Balmoral Castle that morning that actually resulted in us only visiting two that day though having said that I suppose there are only so many wash backs (or vats) and stills you can bring yourself to seeing anyway. Still (mind the pun), having done our research we went to two of the oldest and most beautiful distilleries in the Cairngorm region and those reputed to offer the best tours - those of Glenlivet and Strathisla (best known for Chivas Regal). And Nic did manage to gain somewhat of an appreciation for the treasured dram (or drink for those that need a translation). The fact that not only the difference in the mineral content of the water used or even the malting process itself but also the size and shape of each of the copper stills and their chemical reactions with the malt bears a difference on the end product (without even touching on the barrelling) was fascinating to me though for some reason boring as batshit to Nic :)
Let me just declare that if I ever see a castle again it’ll be too soon! I mean I’ve never really given much of a toss about the Royal Family nor had any idea who the Earls of Strathmore were (nor the Bownes-Lyon connection with the Windsors for that matter) but I do have a penchant towards the strappings of wealth so perhaps it was this that drew me to a near obsession with these grand houses complete with fine furniture, art, silverware and glorious grounds and gardens. It seemed like we were always taking a detour to take in another castle and in total, excluding ruins of which there were loads too, I think we managed to see 9 castles in 7 days on the road in Scotland and we’ve now totally had our fix. I reckon we could walk straight past the most fairy-tail of castles and hardly even notice. That said, we did see some absolute gems.
Of course no trip to Scotland, at least not for anyone who’s ever spoilt a lovely walk in the park by chasing a little white ball around, would be complete without paying homage to the home of Golf – St Andrews. I guess the fact that I’m neither a member of a golf course nor do I have a handicap nor did I book a place with the R&A 6 months in advance only to go into a raffle for a round on the Old Course, meant that I couldn’t let hacking around spoil my walking the fairways of this grand old course but pay homage at least I did. For the record even on the lovely day that we had it was windy as hell and would have been a complete nightmare to play – you got to love it.
Next we wrapped up our little road trip with a couple of days visiting the beautiful Lake District. It’s easy to see why this is recognised as the most popular holiday destination in Britain as well as the inspiration for the works of William Wordsworth, Beatrix Potter and John Ruskin.
Lastly, we spent a few of days with Nic’s uncle Antony in Manchester (thanks so much for letting us invade your flat for a little while), before heading down to London.
Having thoroughly enjoyed every moment of this final tour of Britain and having tied up a few remaining loose ends, we look forward to our last catch-ups with friends here in London and heading off to the New York in a few days.
Until next time and slanche-vah!
