This years Christmas got off to an excellent start and it's all due to the Missus. First, we got to stay at home, enjoying the luke-warm San Francisco weather, no traveling anxiety or road rage. Just pure comfort in the privacy of our own home. That matters to someone that is both agora-fobic and more afraid of cold weather than death by starvation.
Secondly, we have been practicing turtle-walking and turtle-execution. You might not be familiar with this latest trend but it's the combination of moving slow and letting the world pass. It's a philosophy that honors being, not doing. So what if we don't have the right colors on the candles this year. We have candles, no? It takes the pressure on and refocus on why and not what. It's more heart and mind than body and soul.
Third and last, my Christmas wishlist was honored and executed with the precision of a West Bank sniper. The Missus nailed most of the key items with excellent accuracy. Sure, I got some weird stuff that I most likely need to return when the Christmas spirit has left the building. But overall, she is getting an A+ on performance, engagement and content.
Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Monday, December 13, 2004
Two Days Later
- Knock, knock!
- Who's there?
- It's A-Dog and V-Cat!
Well, that's how it started more than 48 hours ago. I still get chills when I think about it. This is what really happened!
The missus and I had invited over the Dog and his Cat for some spanish wine-tasting. You know, tangle a few reds from overseas. Mix it up a little bit.
We got the idea a few weeks earlier at a french wine-tasting event at the A-Dog's hacienda. We started with a Côtes du Rhône and finished with a Burgundy. Nothing fancy but on the other hand not half bad. We enjoyed cheese in the addition to the wine. Stinky cheese. The kind that grows hair on your chest - and probably other places as well if you aren't careful. The locker-smelling-kind. The-old-trainers-never-washed-but-been-through-hell-and-back-kind. The-what's-that-green-stuff-kind.
Being the last minute kind of guy, I had just come back from the grocery store. Carrying four corniche game hens to broil. I quickly rubbed them with my secret mix and threw them in the oven - 400 degrees for 45 minutes.
- Knock, knock!
- Who's there?
Cheese on the table and the first Rioja - a Marques de Riscal Reserva from 1999 - was decapitated and the party started. A-Cat got promoted 24 hours earlier so there was a real reason to celebrate. We usually just make up celebrations in our statistically irrelevant household.
- Knock, knock!
The hens are dead, broiled and done. White, tender and ready to be had. The meat is falling of the bones and the second Rioja is popped open and the feast can continue.
We talk about chicken tenderness, being a chef and about the wine region of Rioja. I mean, to be fair, we are gathered here today to enjoy the hard labour of our friends in the spanish grape wines.
Then I realize, this is the moment. This is why we head up at 6am every freekin' morning to go to work, why we extend ourselves and go beyond what we thought was possible. Those small moments of true connection, of happiness, of planning the future and exchanging Ahh's and Ohh's with good friends.
Say cheese! It's definitely time for a picture!
- Who's there?
- It's A-Dog and V-Cat!
Well, that's how it started more than 48 hours ago. I still get chills when I think about it. This is what really happened!
The missus and I had invited over the Dog and his Cat for some spanish wine-tasting. You know, tangle a few reds from overseas. Mix it up a little bit.
We got the idea a few weeks earlier at a french wine-tasting event at the A-Dog's hacienda. We started with a Côtes du Rhône and finished with a Burgundy. Nothing fancy but on the other hand not half bad. We enjoyed cheese in the addition to the wine. Stinky cheese. The kind that grows hair on your chest - and probably other places as well if you aren't careful. The locker-smelling-kind. The-old-trainers-never-washed-but-been-through-hell-and-back-kind. The-what's-that-green-stuff-kind.
Being the last minute kind of guy, I had just come back from the grocery store. Carrying four corniche game hens to broil. I quickly rubbed them with my secret mix and threw them in the oven - 400 degrees for 45 minutes.
- Knock, knock!
- Who's there?
Cheese on the table and the first Rioja - a Marques de Riscal Reserva from 1999 - was decapitated and the party started. A-Cat got promoted 24 hours earlier so there was a real reason to celebrate. We usually just make up celebrations in our statistically irrelevant household.
- Knock, knock!
The hens are dead, broiled and done. White, tender and ready to be had. The meat is falling of the bones and the second Rioja is popped open and the feast can continue.
We talk about chicken tenderness, being a chef and about the wine region of Rioja. I mean, to be fair, we are gathered here today to enjoy the hard labour of our friends in the spanish grape wines.
Then I realize, this is the moment. This is why we head up at 6am every freekin' morning to go to work, why we extend ourselves and go beyond what we thought was possible. Those small moments of true connection, of happiness, of planning the future and exchanging Ahh's and Ohh's with good friends.
Say cheese! It's definitely time for a picture!
Saturday, December 11, 2004
For The Distinguished Driver Only
Driving gloves aren't for everyone. Imagine an american-born chinese soccer-mom speeding along in her Mini Van. She is doing about 80 in the right freeway lane just to get in time for drop-off or pick-up. She's got the driving wheel right at her chest and her arms are straight out like an airplane ready to land. Add driving gloves. Wouldn't work.
Image the guy from the hood that drives a souped-up Honda in pastel colors and dices dangling from the rearview mirror. The seat is so far back that his head is hardly visibile. 50 cents is BLASTING out across the neighborhood from his $2000 stereo. Add driving gloves. Even in the most fluorescent pastels they wouldn't work.
Then imagine a Steve McQueen-ish man, a little taller with a more European-styled shirt (well-fitted with confident patterns and a strong collar) and a pair of Italian loafers. He's gently sliding into his roadster, the leather smells raw and powerful. The sportscar reminds you of a panther ready to jump it's prey. Add driving gloves. Fits like... a glove.
There is justice in universe after all. I rest my case!
Image the guy from the hood that drives a souped-up Honda in pastel colors and dices dangling from the rearview mirror. The seat is so far back that his head is hardly visibile. 50 cents is BLASTING out across the neighborhood from his $2000 stereo. Add driving gloves. Even in the most fluorescent pastels they wouldn't work.
Then imagine a Steve McQueen-ish man, a little taller with a more European-styled shirt (well-fitted with confident patterns and a strong collar) and a pair of Italian loafers. He's gently sliding into his roadster, the leather smells raw and powerful. The sportscar reminds you of a panther ready to jump it's prey. Add driving gloves. Fits like... a glove.
There is justice in universe after all. I rest my case!
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Home Alone III
[Dream Come True by The Brand New Heavies is thumping through our pad. A glass of Rodney Strong Merlot is slowly being had. There is no cigar but lots of smoke from yesterday.]
It’s the day after, folks. Don’t expect me to be remotely funny or clever. D-dog came over last night and made me drink lots of excellent red wine, calvados and smoke puros until early morning hours. That's my defense and I'll stick to it.
I had started to grill a whole chicken, just whipped up some Ceviche and was about to soak the basmati rice when there was a knock on the door. I assumed it was my dinner guests for the evening and I was right. Sometimes life can be so simple.
We started our feast with three types of cheese: one Morbier (France), one goat cheese brie (France) and one creamy Californian. Bebel Gilberto’s Tanto Tiempo was humming along in the background. Soothing Bossa tunes that smell happiness, warmth and time-off. Bossa Nova is in my opinion the sweet dream of true harmony; it’s the antithesis of carpools, mini-vans and South Beach diet. It’s the effortless being, living and loving. No strings attached.
[Ping. The pasta is ready. A simple Farfalle with sautéed mushrooms in basil and pepper sauce. Parmesan sprinkled lightly on top. Refilling the Merlot.]
I know what you are thinking. The rascal is using the missus’ absence as an excuse to invite friends and double team the wine fridge and the humidors. True but not true. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. If living life to the fullest is a crime then bring out those handcuffs. I’m guilty as charged. The word extravaganza is the norm in our household as per the most general definition (over the top). Like Don Quijote we all have our windmills to challenge and conquer.
Anywho – the evening ended with a Calvados, a Puro and a discussion around what’s important in life. Not ones did we mention family values. Thank God!
It was much more spiritual and down-to-earth than that.
[Dimitri from Paris’ Disco Forever. Disc 3.]
Protect the old is a defensive game. It’s challenging the anomaly in-between paradigms. It’s like backing into a dead-end street. Live the dream and make your moves speak louder than those words. Shake your bootie is as offensive as it gets. No pun intended.
It’s the day after, folks. Don’t expect me to be remotely funny or clever. D-dog came over last night and made me drink lots of excellent red wine, calvados and smoke puros until early morning hours. That's my defense and I'll stick to it.
I had started to grill a whole chicken, just whipped up some Ceviche and was about to soak the basmati rice when there was a knock on the door. I assumed it was my dinner guests for the evening and I was right. Sometimes life can be so simple.
We started our feast with three types of cheese: one Morbier (France), one goat cheese brie (France) and one creamy Californian. Bebel Gilberto’s Tanto Tiempo was humming along in the background. Soothing Bossa tunes that smell happiness, warmth and time-off. Bossa Nova is in my opinion the sweet dream of true harmony; it’s the antithesis of carpools, mini-vans and South Beach diet. It’s the effortless being, living and loving. No strings attached.
[Ping. The pasta is ready. A simple Farfalle with sautéed mushrooms in basil and pepper sauce. Parmesan sprinkled lightly on top. Refilling the Merlot.]
I know what you are thinking. The rascal is using the missus’ absence as an excuse to invite friends and double team the wine fridge and the humidors. True but not true. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. If living life to the fullest is a crime then bring out those handcuffs. I’m guilty as charged. The word extravaganza is the norm in our household as per the most general definition (over the top). Like Don Quijote we all have our windmills to challenge and conquer.
Anywho – the evening ended with a Calvados, a Puro and a discussion around what’s important in life. Not ones did we mention family values. Thank God!
It was much more spiritual and down-to-earth than that.
[Dimitri from Paris’ Disco Forever. Disc 3.]
Protect the old is a defensive game. It’s challenging the anomaly in-between paradigms. It’s like backing into a dead-end street. Live the dream and make your moves speak louder than those words. Shake your bootie is as offensive as it gets. No pun intended.
Friday, December 03, 2004
While on Vacation: Just Eat It!
I have seen my fair share of churches, museums and historical monuments. In Gertrude Steins words: A church is a church. If you have seen one you have seen them all.
The missus and I have made an agreement NOT to follow the pack while on vacation. No Disneylands. No guided tours. No vacation packages. No churches. Just the two of us enjoying each others company in a new, exciting context. Focusing on what we enjoy the most: breakfast, lunch and dinner.
The way to travel and to meet interesting people is with a glas of wine in the left and a fork in the right hand. Nothing connects people more than food and wine. It's the quintessential hobby for globetrotting aficionados like us. It's the true way, the pure way to world peace.
Wait a second - we are not talking about hanging out with obese trash looking for their next value menu. Oh no, we are all about the pleasure of tasteful portions of local delights.
It's the gastronomique journey where soul, palatte and mind is challenged. It's where all senses are all equally involved. From the first peak at the menu to the signing of the check. It's where the Aahs meets the Oohs and pure vintage pleasure is being made and enjoyed.
Still up for visiting another church?
The missus and I have made an agreement NOT to follow the pack while on vacation. No Disneylands. No guided tours. No vacation packages. No churches. Just the two of us enjoying each others company in a new, exciting context. Focusing on what we enjoy the most: breakfast, lunch and dinner.
The way to travel and to meet interesting people is with a glas of wine in the left and a fork in the right hand. Nothing connects people more than food and wine. It's the quintessential hobby for globetrotting aficionados like us. It's the true way, the pure way to world peace.
Wait a second - we are not talking about hanging out with obese trash looking for their next value menu. Oh no, we are all about the pleasure of tasteful portions of local delights.
It's the gastronomique journey where soul, palatte and mind is challenged. It's where all senses are all equally involved. From the first peak at the menu to the signing of the check. It's where the Aahs meets the Oohs and pure vintage pleasure is being made and enjoyed.
Still up for visiting another church?
Birds, Bats and Boomerangs
Right of the boat (ROB) in Sydney we encounter the funniest bird. It looks like a pelican on South Beach Diet with a cartoonish presence. It's hard to know if the bird is a friend or a fou. It's strutting along in Hyde Park in the middle of Sydney and is an very akward sight for someone that is used to encounter birds on their back, broiled and battered. See, my view on animals is simple - they should be quiet, tender and work well with any medium bodied red.
Halfway through our vacation we walked through the Botanic Gardens. It's the most accommodating and peaceful place in Sydney, right between Woolloomooloo, the business district and the Sydney Opera. There, in a tree, hung hundreds of bats. The missus freaked out a little bit while I stayed absolutely calm. Holy crap, Batman!
But mother of all that's good and pure - we didn't see any Boomerang-throwing Aussies on their Walk-Abouts. I'm a little disappointed I must say. I'm a big aficionado of local culture and would prefer being greated by original tribal folks. Did not happen.
Halfway through our vacation we walked through the Botanic Gardens. It's the most accommodating and peaceful place in Sydney, right between Woolloomooloo, the business district and the Sydney Opera. There, in a tree, hung hundreds of bats. The missus freaked out a little bit while I stayed absolutely calm. Holy crap, Batman!
But mother of all that's good and pure - we didn't see any Boomerang-throwing Aussies on their Walk-Abouts. I'm a little disappointed I must say. I'm a big aficionado of local culture and would prefer being greated by original tribal folks. Did not happen.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Fly Me To Down Under
My whole life for the next 10 days is laying on my bed. It's filled with everything from beach clothes to books and my iPod. The missus and I are taking off for a while. Yessiree - we are going downunder for a while, putting a stop to the ratrace, slowing down to zero. Sydney is the destination, some 14 hours away from sunny California.
We are just going to sit in the sun, contemplate and digest the present. That's a pretty darn good and satisfying excerise. Switching between sipping expresso's in the morning, to wine for lunch and finishing off a hard days work with a gin and tonic. Possible a cigar.
Nosiree, Bob! We are not backing down for any challenge. Send us downunder, to the land of wonder and we'll show 'em outback-sissies that we can be adventurous (the missus) and slack (yours truly) better than most. I'm also a hell of a mytomaniac in despite what people say.
We are going to reinvent the good old turtlewalk and commit to one destination a day. No crazy see-it-all-cause-we-might-never-come-back-crap. No Mam! Underneath all that beauty lies one smart cookie (the missus) and one lazy brownie (yours truly).
So we are off to enjoy one of the few places in the industrialized world where you still can smoke a phattie in the Pub, shake your bootie without being arrested and wrestle Kangeroo's.
God Bless Australia!
We are just going to sit in the sun, contemplate and digest the present. That's a pretty darn good and satisfying excerise. Switching between sipping expresso's in the morning, to wine for lunch and finishing off a hard days work with a gin and tonic. Possible a cigar.
Nosiree, Bob! We are not backing down for any challenge. Send us downunder, to the land of wonder and we'll show 'em outback-sissies that we can be adventurous (the missus) and slack (yours truly) better than most. I'm also a hell of a mytomaniac in despite what people say.
We are going to reinvent the good old turtlewalk and commit to one destination a day. No crazy see-it-all-cause-we-might-never-come-back-crap. No Mam! Underneath all that beauty lies one smart cookie (the missus) and one lazy brownie (yours truly).
So we are off to enjoy one of the few places in the industrialized world where you still can smoke a phattie in the Pub, shake your bootie without being arrested and wrestle Kangeroo's.
God Bless Australia!
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
To The Missus: What I Want For Christmas
We are spending our first Christmas as newlyweds at home this year. No more crazy Christmas traveling with people in their PJ's. No snow and freezing cold wind.
A great Christmas is only as great as the weakest gift. I have therefor created - ahead of the mindless shopping time - my wishlist for the missus:
1. Any or all of the following DVD's: Le Mans, The Spy Who Came In From The Cold, The Assassination Bureau, Zoolander, Office Space, The Rock, The Star Wars Trilogy, Blow-Up, The Thomas Crown Affair (original and remake), The Saint and The Professionals (if released in region 1).
2. Any or all of the following books: 'Porsche - The Road from Zuffenhausen by Dennis Adler', 'How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must) : The World According to Ann Coulter', 'Carry On, Jeeves - by P.G Woodhouse', "The Chinese in America: A Narrative History by Iris Chang' and 'Down and Dirty Pictures : Miramax, Sundance, and the Rise of Independent Film by Peter Biskind'.
3. Any or all of the following CD's: Maroon 8, Switchfoot, The Guru, Frequent Flyer: Bombay, Whitesnake : Whitesnake, Vampyros Lesbos Sexadelic Dance Party, Refazenda (Gilbero Gil), Aqualung, Expresso 2222 (Gilberto Gil), Deep Note: Music of 1970s Adult Cinema and Gran Riserva.
4. Funky underwear. Any Brand. Size 34 (understatement).
5. Ben & Jerry's Half Baked Icecream. Go crazy. As many pints as you can carry.
A great Christmas is only as great as the weakest gift. I have therefor created - ahead of the mindless shopping time - my wishlist for the missus:
1. Any or all of the following DVD's: Le Mans, The Spy Who Came In From The Cold, The Assassination Bureau, Zoolander, Office Space, The Rock, The Star Wars Trilogy, Blow-Up, The Thomas Crown Affair (original and remake), The Saint and The Professionals (if released in region 1).
2. Any or all of the following books: 'Porsche - The Road from Zuffenhausen by Dennis Adler', 'How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must) : The World According to Ann Coulter', 'Carry On, Jeeves - by P.G Woodhouse', "The Chinese in America: A Narrative History by Iris Chang' and 'Down and Dirty Pictures : Miramax, Sundance, and the Rise of Independent Film by Peter Biskind'.
3. Any or all of the following CD's: Maroon 8, Switchfoot, The Guru, Frequent Flyer: Bombay, Whitesnake : Whitesnake, Vampyros Lesbos Sexadelic Dance Party, Refazenda (Gilbero Gil), Aqualung, Expresso 2222 (Gilberto Gil), Deep Note: Music of 1970s Adult Cinema and Gran Riserva.
4. Funky underwear. Any Brand. Size 34 (understatement).
5. Ben & Jerry's Half Baked Icecream. Go crazy. As many pints as you can carry.
California Living
People ask me why I live in California when there are such charming places like, Fargo in Minnesota, Boras in Sweden and Cancun, Mexico. Hmm, lemme think...!
Well - California has got three very attractive elements: Sun, Beaches and Attitude! The first two are No-Brainers while the third might need a little more explanation.
Attitude is Everything! It's what makes people connect and fall in love. It's what makes people pissed off and want to change the world. It's your inner cojones that refuses to barge for anything. It's the pure passionate rage that comes from your gut and explodes in a raised index-finger pointed in the direction of stupidity, smallmindness and lack of funkadelic vibe. That's what I'm talking about.
I didn't see any of that when in Fargo, Boras or Cancun. I just saw bald, beerbellied babies and that freaks me out. Word!
PS. Today we had 65°F (18°C) in San Francisco with sunny clear blue sky. I wore shorts and a shirt. Forgot my sunglasses. Life can really suck!
Well - California has got three very attractive elements: Sun, Beaches and Attitude! The first two are No-Brainers while the third might need a little more explanation.
Attitude is Everything! It's what makes people connect and fall in love. It's what makes people pissed off and want to change the world. It's your inner cojones that refuses to barge for anything. It's the pure passionate rage that comes from your gut and explodes in a raised index-finger pointed in the direction of stupidity, smallmindness and lack of funkadelic vibe. That's what I'm talking about.
I didn't see any of that when in Fargo, Boras or Cancun. I just saw bald, beerbellied babies and that freaks me out. Word!
PS. Today we had 65°F (18°C) in San Francisco with sunny clear blue sky. I wore shorts and a shirt. Forgot my sunglasses. Life can really suck!
Monday, November 15, 2004
Home Alone II
Yes - I'm going crazy. This is the second time in just a short while where I'm home alone without the missus. The cultural consensus is that I should spend this time smoking, drinking and watching porn (the boys view) or mend, fix and paint the house (the family view).
Well - I'm sorry to disappoint you both (never been a sucker to please) but I've spend my time much more wisely doing... absolutely nothing!
I forgot how boring a bachelor's life could by, at least when home alone. The worst thing is the inner voice, the reflections that keeps going on and on. It's like being in an episode of Seinfeld's. Yada, yada, yada!
When the missus is home the inner monolog doesn't really get a chance to feast on my brain. The missus establish a good balance between my inner thoughts and her charm by initiating conversation. Mind you, I'm a Scandinavian and we need a lot of help to initiate conversation. Well, we a need a lot of help in a lot of things but that's another story.
My buddies and I can sit at the pub in total silence and just excist without any feeling of aquardness. It's almost that we try to avoid to talk just not to initiate a discomforting situation or moment. Aquard moments are a sin from where I originate. It means that you don't have anything intelligent to contribute with. One exception to this rule might be talking weather with older people. But that's about it. I mean why blow the cover, opening you mouth and make it obvious that your contribution to society is on par with a donkey.
Anyhow. My life has evolved around the most basic tasks over the past few days: eat, drink and sleep. I have occasionally watched a movie or read some news on the web. Oh yes, I was forced to do some laundry the other day. But that's about it, folks.
I've been pacing around in our pad, turning the TV on (and realizing that the shows sucks), turned it off (and realizing that it's better than nothing) and turned it on again. I cannot wait until the missus comes back, drops her things all over the place and wakes me up in the morning with hairdryers and phone calls. I cannot wait!
Well - I'm sorry to disappoint you both (never been a sucker to please) but I've spend my time much more wisely doing... absolutely nothing!
I forgot how boring a bachelor's life could by, at least when home alone. The worst thing is the inner voice, the reflections that keeps going on and on. It's like being in an episode of Seinfeld's. Yada, yada, yada!
When the missus is home the inner monolog doesn't really get a chance to feast on my brain. The missus establish a good balance between my inner thoughts and her charm by initiating conversation. Mind you, I'm a Scandinavian and we need a lot of help to initiate conversation. Well, we a need a lot of help in a lot of things but that's another story.
My buddies and I can sit at the pub in total silence and just excist without any feeling of aquardness. It's almost that we try to avoid to talk just not to initiate a discomforting situation or moment. Aquard moments are a sin from where I originate. It means that you don't have anything intelligent to contribute with. One exception to this rule might be talking weather with older people. But that's about it. I mean why blow the cover, opening you mouth and make it obvious that your contribution to society is on par with a donkey.
Anyhow. My life has evolved around the most basic tasks over the past few days: eat, drink and sleep. I have occasionally watched a movie or read some news on the web. Oh yes, I was forced to do some laundry the other day. But that's about it, folks.
I've been pacing around in our pad, turning the TV on (and realizing that the shows sucks), turned it off (and realizing that it's better than nothing) and turned it on again. I cannot wait until the missus comes back, drops her things all over the place and wakes me up in the morning with hairdryers and phone calls. I cannot wait!
Thursday, November 11, 2004
My Insouciant Life
Bigger. Better. Faster. More. It's part of our human DNA to strive for new conquests and achievements. To challenge life and get on the rollercoaster for the ride of our life. As soon as one goal is reached we move to the next.
But sometimes it's nice (and healthy) to just step back for a moment, to catch some breath and get perspective. One of my old mentors always said the perspective is worth 100 IQ points. Who knows, really!
The point is: take time to celebrate your victories, enjoy the wonderful flavor of success. It could be getting a raise, loosing weight or making the perfect swedish meatballs. Let that feeling of pure, innocent joy fill your body and mind. Kick off your shoes and embrace the insouciant life. Just for a moment care to not care and let that feeling fill your veins. I do - as often as I can.
But sometimes it's nice (and healthy) to just step back for a moment, to catch some breath and get perspective. One of my old mentors always said the perspective is worth 100 IQ points. Who knows, really!
The point is: take time to celebrate your victories, enjoy the wonderful flavor of success. It could be getting a raise, loosing weight or making the perfect swedish meatballs. Let that feeling of pure, innocent joy fill your body and mind. Kick off your shoes and embrace the insouciant life. Just for a moment care to not care and let that feeling fill your veins. I do - as often as I can.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Will My Guayabera Shirts Still Fit When I'm 64
I worry that my collection of Guayabera shirts - most of them Mexican Wedding shirts, some known as lounge / rockabilly shirts - won't fit me when I'm 64. I worry about being broke, bald and beer-bellied. If that happens, I wish I still can wear my Guayabera shirts. Medium size.
London Calling, Baby
The missus and I went to London the other week for work as well as pleasure. We both were fortunate to be sent their at the same time by our respective companies. Coincidence? I think not!
London - that's where we met, a cold Saturday in February 2001. Going back together brought back a lot of fond memories and created some new. I guess it also readjusted some and erased others. Funny how the mind works.
We visited our old stomping grounds: The Cod in Knightsbridge, The Wine Factory and Zucca in Notting Hill. The Cod (Admiral Codington) was Erin's local pub, just around the corner from her pad. The Wine Factory was the restaurant where we had our first real date and Zucca were we had our first lunch, that cold Saturday morning. Both around the corner from my old pad.
We spent the most of the weekend hanging out with my buddies - shopping, eating and drinking. The shopping in London is very different from most places in the US but that's another blog.
What I really like about London and the UK in general is their drinking culture. Spending a rainy Saturday with your friends, exchanging stories and drinking real beer (no light Bud crap) in front of the fireplace is not too bad (as the brits say). It's actually freakin' great.
So after several hours of walking and shopping the choice was clear - a pint at The Cod would make a great finish to a fun day. Or at least make the transition from afternoon into evening somewhat painless.
It's amazing how thirsty one can get when one is out shopping. Bloody hell! I think we had a few pints and shared a couple of bottles of wine before the darkness and hunger made it's presence known. Thank God they close the Pubs at 11 o'clock. Otherwise we might still have been there - chatting and drinking in front of the fire.
I couldn't agree more with Samuel Johnson's quote from Boswell's Life: "When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."
London - that's where we met, a cold Saturday in February 2001. Going back together brought back a lot of fond memories and created some new. I guess it also readjusted some and erased others. Funny how the mind works.
We visited our old stomping grounds: The Cod in Knightsbridge, The Wine Factory and Zucca in Notting Hill. The Cod (Admiral Codington) was Erin's local pub, just around the corner from her pad. The Wine Factory was the restaurant where we had our first real date and Zucca were we had our first lunch, that cold Saturday morning. Both around the corner from my old pad.
We spent the most of the weekend hanging out with my buddies - shopping, eating and drinking. The shopping in London is very different from most places in the US but that's another blog.
What I really like about London and the UK in general is their drinking culture. Spending a rainy Saturday with your friends, exchanging stories and drinking real beer (no light Bud crap) in front of the fireplace is not too bad (as the brits say). It's actually freakin' great.
So after several hours of walking and shopping the choice was clear - a pint at The Cod would make a great finish to a fun day. Or at least make the transition from afternoon into evening somewhat painless.
It's amazing how thirsty one can get when one is out shopping. Bloody hell! I think we had a few pints and shared a couple of bottles of wine before the darkness and hunger made it's presence known. Thank God they close the Pubs at 11 o'clock. Otherwise we might still have been there - chatting and drinking in front of the fire.
I couldn't agree more with Samuel Johnson's quote from Boswell's Life: "When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."
Monday, November 01, 2004
Hip Behaving Badly
My left hip gets cranky once in a while and refuses to collaborate. It's Perthes fault. I don't know who he is but I got his desease. I've had it since I can remember. The earliest memories are from when I was watching the snowfall from the kitchen window but couldn't go out and play, only watch the other kids have fun.
Nowdays I move around as well as the next person. But occasionally the pain comes back and I rememeber the kids playing in the snow.
Nowdays I move around as well as the next person. But occasionally the pain comes back and I rememeber the kids playing in the snow.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
My Top 10 Favorite Travel Destinations
In the spirit of popular lists and travel magazines I'm here revealing my "secret" top 10 favorite travel destinations:
1. Sydney, Australia - What is all this 'down-under' hype about? We are going for Thankgiving to find out.
2. Rioja, Spain - The greatest wine-making region in the world. The combination of Rioja and Cordero Asado is killer.
3. Cuba - It's all cause of the cigars, the salsa, the food and the Guayabera-shirts.
4. Punta del Este, Uruguay - It's the riviera of South America. Tanned people, cool drinks and suave music. What else do you need?
5. Buenos Aires, Argentina - Only for the Tango and the excellent steaks.
6. Mozambique - To enjoy the cool beaches and the great dark African vibe.
7. Vietnam - The food, the culture and the mystique.
8. Isle of Islay, Scotland - 9 Malt Whiskey breweries in 3 days. And you think Napa can kick your ass?
9. Phuket, Thailand - I'd like to see where the James Bond-movie "The Man with the Golden Gun" was filmed and compare the original Thai-food to Churchill Arm's in London, England.
10. Morocco - Great rugs. Interesting food. New bacteria culture.
1. Sydney, Australia - What is all this 'down-under' hype about? We are going for Thankgiving to find out.
2. Rioja, Spain - The greatest wine-making region in the world. The combination of Rioja and Cordero Asado is killer.
3. Cuba - It's all cause of the cigars, the salsa, the food and the Guayabera-shirts.
4. Punta del Este, Uruguay - It's the riviera of South America. Tanned people, cool drinks and suave music. What else do you need?
5. Buenos Aires, Argentina - Only for the Tango and the excellent steaks.
6. Mozambique - To enjoy the cool beaches and the great dark African vibe.
7. Vietnam - The food, the culture and the mystique.
8. Isle of Islay, Scotland - 9 Malt Whiskey breweries in 3 days. And you think Napa can kick your ass?
9. Phuket, Thailand - I'd like to see where the James Bond-movie "The Man with the Golden Gun" was filmed and compare the original Thai-food to Churchill Arm's in London, England.
10. Morocco - Great rugs. Interesting food. New bacteria culture.
Home Alone
I'm home alone this week. Have actually been alone since the missus left for Salt Lake City and Puerto Rico last Tuesday.
One would assume that one would fall back into pre-maritial routines such as not shaving, not showering and only working, watching DVD's and single-team the wine fridge. One is very correct. That is pretty much what I have done the whole weekend.
Right now I'm watching "The Bridge on The River Kwai", drinking a Torres Mas la Plana from 1995 and drafting strategy plans for our business unit. One might think: "What a weird combination!".
I would strongly disagree and I am. The only thing I'm lacking is a cigar and that might happen sooner than one thinks. Non-Cuban, of course.
Most strategies are designed to win or protect and derives from thousands of years of war strategy practices. A lot of the terminology used in the business world today are military terms: overtake, conquer, defeat, surrender, guerilla, hostage et cetera. The military metaphors have become a common way to illustrate strategies or desirable results in todays business life.
The ability to create strategies and think strategic is powerful but nothing beats a shower and a shave when the missus returns.
One would assume that one would fall back into pre-maritial routines such as not shaving, not showering and only working, watching DVD's and single-team the wine fridge. One is very correct. That is pretty much what I have done the whole weekend.
Right now I'm watching "The Bridge on The River Kwai", drinking a Torres Mas la Plana from 1995 and drafting strategy plans for our business unit. One might think: "What a weird combination!".
I would strongly disagree and I am. The only thing I'm lacking is a cigar and that might happen sooner than one thinks. Non-Cuban, of course.
Most strategies are designed to win or protect and derives from thousands of years of war strategy practices. A lot of the terminology used in the business world today are military terms: overtake, conquer, defeat, surrender, guerilla, hostage et cetera. The military metaphors have become a common way to illustrate strategies or desirable results in todays business life.
The ability to create strategies and think strategic is powerful but nothing beats a shower and a shave when the missus returns.
Monday, October 11, 2004
I, Glass Collector
I did not know that I was going to be such a world-class glass collector when I got married. It's my missus that has brought out this talent.
We have developed an excellent team work. She places glasses in the most interesting areas across our pad and I collect them and return them to their origin.
An untrained eye would argue that the glasses are just casually put down when either empty or when the phone rings. I would disagree. They are thoughfully placed in all parts of the apartment: bathroom, bedroom, living room, dining room and kitchen. They are mostly placed, or at least found, close to the edge of a sink or a table. Sometimes half-full and sometimes completely empty.
The content differs as well which always tickles my fancy. Mostly wine, orange juice and coffee. But I have to admit that I have found glasses with water - both still and sparkling - as well.
This glass ritual has evolved to be the perfect analogy for a strong marriage: We are here for each other and build on our strengths. Not weaknesses. I'm an excellent, neurotic passiv-aggressive European and the missus is a very easy-loving, care-free American hedonist. The best of both worlds!
We have developed an excellent team work. She places glasses in the most interesting areas across our pad and I collect them and return them to their origin.
An untrained eye would argue that the glasses are just casually put down when either empty or when the phone rings. I would disagree. They are thoughfully placed in all parts of the apartment: bathroom, bedroom, living room, dining room and kitchen. They are mostly placed, or at least found, close to the edge of a sink or a table. Sometimes half-full and sometimes completely empty.
The content differs as well which always tickles my fancy. Mostly wine, orange juice and coffee. But I have to admit that I have found glasses with water - both still and sparkling - as well.
This glass ritual has evolved to be the perfect analogy for a strong marriage: We are here for each other and build on our strengths. Not weaknesses. I'm an excellent, neurotic passiv-aggressive European and the missus is a very easy-loving, care-free American hedonist. The best of both worlds!
Saturday, October 09, 2004
Papa Got a Brand New Bed
I feeeel good. Dobedobedobido. Like I should. Bodebodibodibop. Sooooo good. Bobop. So Good. Bobop. Bobodibodibop.
Finally - we got my act together and went down to Mattress Discounters on Van Ness to get ourselves a brand new bed. I had never bought a bed before and felt a little lost. Probably the main reason for the procastination that had been going on in my mind. The last bed I had - my pre-maritial bed as I now prefer to call it - I got from my parents 10 years ago when I moved into my first house.
In London I slept on a Futon for years which sucked. I don't care what people say - a Futon is not made for humans with self-respect and / or self-love.
In San Francisco I slept in Erin's bed which was a full size. Not big enough for a man like me. I need to roll around, stretch (the manly exercise of moaning and grunting while stretching your body as far and wide as possible) and have enough space for my physical delight as well as ego.
So we bought a king size Sealy Posturepedic and had it delivered within 48 hours. I have to say that the whole process - from decision-making to delivery really impressed me. I've always seen these "Discount" shops with a very sceptical eye - promising big to make you sign but once done delivering small. In this case they exceeded my expectations. The salesman promised that the delivery guys would call the same day to give us the 4-hour window for delivery. They did. The sales man then promised that the delivery guys would call 1-hour before delivery. They did.
The first thing they did when they came was to ask me where I wanted the bed, if the should dump the old bed et cetera. It wasn't just dump and go. I felt that they really cared about my needs and their business. The delivery guys had the bed unpacked, assembled and our old bed taken-away within 15 minutes. You could tell that these guys had done this before and had the whole process nailed down in detail. These guys where focused and on a mission. They were so damned impressive that I'm writing about it in my blog.
The bed itself is fantstic. It's like a newborn cloud floating around in the sky with the only mission to please it's master. I'm actually writing this story from this soft, warm, comforting.... Zzzzzzzzzzzz.........
Finally - we got my act together and went down to Mattress Discounters on Van Ness to get ourselves a brand new bed. I had never bought a bed before and felt a little lost. Probably the main reason for the procastination that had been going on in my mind. The last bed I had - my pre-maritial bed as I now prefer to call it - I got from my parents 10 years ago when I moved into my first house.
In London I slept on a Futon for years which sucked. I don't care what people say - a Futon is not made for humans with self-respect and / or self-love.
In San Francisco I slept in Erin's bed which was a full size. Not big enough for a man like me. I need to roll around, stretch (the manly exercise of moaning and grunting while stretching your body as far and wide as possible) and have enough space for my physical delight as well as ego.
So we bought a king size Sealy Posturepedic and had it delivered within 48 hours. I have to say that the whole process - from decision-making to delivery really impressed me. I've always seen these "Discount" shops with a very sceptical eye - promising big to make you sign but once done delivering small. In this case they exceeded my expectations. The salesman promised that the delivery guys would call the same day to give us the 4-hour window for delivery. They did. The sales man then promised that the delivery guys would call 1-hour before delivery. They did.
The first thing they did when they came was to ask me where I wanted the bed, if the should dump the old bed et cetera. It wasn't just dump and go. I felt that they really cared about my needs and their business. The delivery guys had the bed unpacked, assembled and our old bed taken-away within 15 minutes. You could tell that these guys had done this before and had the whole process nailed down in detail. These guys where focused and on a mission. They were so damned impressive that I'm writing about it in my blog.
The bed itself is fantstic. It's like a newborn cloud floating around in the sky with the only mission to please it's master. I'm actually writing this story from this soft, warm, comforting.... Zzzzzzzzzzzz.........
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Finding Credo
"Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" - I wish that was my credo. But fortunately AC/DC nicked it for their 1981 album with the same name. So my search for a powerful credo goes on.
The credo I'm looking for is very much like a motto but stronger and with more oumpfh. Motto is what Boy Scouts have ("Be Prepared."), Olympians ("Citius, Altius, Fortius" => Faster, Higher, Braver), James Bond ("The World Is Not Enough") or Obelix ("Ils sont fous ces Romains!" => These Romans are crazy!).
A motto is a simple statement to live by while credo is a statement to die for. A motte is more generous while a credo is definite. A credo is a strong personal mission statement in just a few simple words.
Nike's "Just Do It!" is a great credo. Powerful. Genial. Probably the best one out there. I'm looking for something like that but with a tad more arrogance.
END - Part I.
The credo I'm looking for is very much like a motto but stronger and with more oumpfh. Motto is what Boy Scouts have ("Be Prepared."), Olympians ("Citius, Altius, Fortius" => Faster, Higher, Braver), James Bond ("The World Is Not Enough") or Obelix ("Ils sont fous ces Romains!" => These Romans are crazy!).
A motto is a simple statement to live by while credo is a statement to die for. A motte is more generous while a credo is definite. A credo is a strong personal mission statement in just a few simple words.
Nike's "Just Do It!" is a great credo. Powerful. Genial. Probably the best one out there. I'm looking for something like that but with a tad more arrogance.
END - Part I.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
WFH [working from home] - riiiight...
Trying to defend WFH [working from home] is such a cliché. Well, viewing things as clichés is such a cliché. Anyway...
I was dialing in to all these conf calls the other day. From home I might add. One after the other and suddenly I realized - that I wasn't going to beat early morning traffic. So I shot an email to my manager explaining my dilemma and suggested being in by noon. He approved. This is around 9am in the morning and I have already been on two conf calls from 7am. At around 1pm I realize that a) I'm still at home, b) it's 1pm and c) I haven't had lunch and I'm hungry like a wolf. So I shot my second email, arguing the above and suggested staying at home. He approved - again. So I kept working.
At around 3pm in the afternoon - after 8 hours of straight work with no food I'm about to pass out. I have kicked ass and they day is not yet over but I need lunch.
I cook a quick pasta, eat in my home office and keep working until 5:30pm when I realize I should enjoy the benefits of working from home and run down to the bank, the flower shop and to the cobblers to knock things of the household to-do-list.
Okay, let's step back for a moment and give this some thought. Working 7am to 5:30pm is ambitious. Doing it undisturbed and focused is more than a miracle. In my eyes I delivered very high productivity in the comfort of my own home. It comes down to that I alone am my toughest boss. I dreamed about morning and afternoon walks with a latte taped to my hand. Maybe drop by the local International Magazine Store. Even a quick stop at the wine cellar would have made this whole equation heavenly. But nooo - pushing the envelope is all you can think of you over-achiever.
The cool thing was to be able to stop at 5:30pm and be home by 5:30pm. It didn't give me a lot of time to decompress but on the other had I didn't have to commute or chase other people's agendas. I gotta say that my stress level was closer to zero than one.
But the true benefit was that by 5:31pm I had a Cohiba Siglo II lit between my lips and a glas of Muga Gran Reserva '95 in my hand. That is worth all the diss for defending WFH as a win-win for you and your company. In the end of the day - who is going to believe you - slacker!
I was dialing in to all these conf calls the other day. From home I might add. One after the other and suddenly I realized - that I wasn't going to beat early morning traffic. So I shot an email to my manager explaining my dilemma and suggested being in by noon. He approved. This is around 9am in the morning and I have already been on two conf calls from 7am. At around 1pm I realize that a) I'm still at home, b) it's 1pm and c) I haven't had lunch and I'm hungry like a wolf. So I shot my second email, arguing the above and suggested staying at home. He approved - again. So I kept working.
At around 3pm in the afternoon - after 8 hours of straight work with no food I'm about to pass out. I have kicked ass and they day is not yet over but I need lunch.
I cook a quick pasta, eat in my home office and keep working until 5:30pm when I realize I should enjoy the benefits of working from home and run down to the bank, the flower shop and to the cobblers to knock things of the household to-do-list.
Okay, let's step back for a moment and give this some thought. Working 7am to 5:30pm is ambitious. Doing it undisturbed and focused is more than a miracle. In my eyes I delivered very high productivity in the comfort of my own home. It comes down to that I alone am my toughest boss. I dreamed about morning and afternoon walks with a latte taped to my hand. Maybe drop by the local International Magazine Store. Even a quick stop at the wine cellar would have made this whole equation heavenly. But nooo - pushing the envelope is all you can think of you over-achiever.
The cool thing was to be able to stop at 5:30pm and be home by 5:30pm. It didn't give me a lot of time to decompress but on the other had I didn't have to commute or chase other people's agendas. I gotta say that my stress level was closer to zero than one.
But the true benefit was that by 5:31pm I had a Cohiba Siglo II lit between my lips and a glas of Muga Gran Reserva '95 in my hand. That is worth all the diss for defending WFH as a win-win for you and your company. In the end of the day - who is going to believe you - slacker!
Sunday, September 19, 2004
The Art Of Global Travels
I've just spend the past 2-3 weeks travelling around our globe; making pitstops in places such as Oxford, Beijing, Taipei, Chicago, Napa Valley, London, Kowloon and Hong Kong. I've travelled by fot, by air, by cab, by bus, by train and by tube / subway. I've had dumplings, thai, all kinds of chinese, japanese, italian, british, french and american food. I've met old friends and made some new.
Travelling this fast and far gives you access to a new dimension. The time to reflect is very limited - it all comes down to first impressions and instinct. You don't have time to give people the benefit of the doubt. If something is broken it needs to be fixed. Solutions become more important than the problems.
Language plays a huge roll in understanding a culture. Communication in English only opens up the door, makes the connection, creates the contact. It all comes down to how your counterpart is 'translating' his thoughts into English. That process can be very different in his / hers mother tongue. The thought / output relationship is very seldom 1:1. It takes patience and a lot of follow-up questions to understand the core content. This creates a challenge in cultures that asking 'too many' questions could be percieved as rude or prawling.
Assumptions drives behaviour and is always a good starting point. I've yet to develop the global managers 5-minute guide to assumption analysis. But a lot of understanding can be achieved in a relatively short period of time. I'm using coffee breaks, lunch and dinners to raise 'softer' issues, to make the human connection that brings people from a corporate mindframe to just being themselves. It's all about building TRUST, to associate your brand with truth, influence and deliverance.
My Top 5 Favorite Travel Accessories:
1. Blazer - Enough pockets to keep phones, keys, passports and tickets organized and makes you look good even after 20 hours on a plane.
2. Treo 600 - Outstanding gadget that puts Address Book, Voice, IM, SMS / MMS and Emails in the palm of your hand. Necessary to stay in contact with HQ.
3. iPOD - 20GB of music that makes you rock in the air or in your hotel room.
4. Bose Headphones - This noise-cancelling headset reduces the jetlag by filtering out irritating noice as well as creating your own high quality audio system.
5. DVD's - I usually bring 10-20 DVD's so I can watch my own favorite movies while travelling. The airline's choice of movies is to mainstream.
Travelling this fast and far gives you access to a new dimension. The time to reflect is very limited - it all comes down to first impressions and instinct. You don't have time to give people the benefit of the doubt. If something is broken it needs to be fixed. Solutions become more important than the problems.
Language plays a huge roll in understanding a culture. Communication in English only opens up the door, makes the connection, creates the contact. It all comes down to how your counterpart is 'translating' his thoughts into English. That process can be very different in his / hers mother tongue. The thought / output relationship is very seldom 1:1. It takes patience and a lot of follow-up questions to understand the core content. This creates a challenge in cultures that asking 'too many' questions could be percieved as rude or prawling.
Assumptions drives behaviour and is always a good starting point. I've yet to develop the global managers 5-minute guide to assumption analysis. But a lot of understanding can be achieved in a relatively short period of time. I'm using coffee breaks, lunch and dinners to raise 'softer' issues, to make the human connection that brings people from a corporate mindframe to just being themselves. It's all about building TRUST, to associate your brand with truth, influence and deliverance.
My Top 5 Favorite Travel Accessories:
1. Blazer - Enough pockets to keep phones, keys, passports and tickets organized and makes you look good even after 20 hours on a plane.
2. Treo 600 - Outstanding gadget that puts Address Book, Voice, IM, SMS / MMS and Emails in the palm of your hand. Necessary to stay in contact with HQ.
3. iPOD - 20GB of music that makes you rock in the air or in your hotel room.
4. Bose Headphones - This noise-cancelling headset reduces the jetlag by filtering out irritating noice as well as creating your own high quality audio system.
5. DVD's - I usually bring 10-20 DVD's so I can watch my own favorite movies while travelling. The airline's choice of movies is to mainstream.
Friday, August 13, 2004
Cordera Asado en Los Caracoles, Barcelona
There is a very quaint restaurant in Barcelona called Los Caracoles (The Snails). It happens to be one of my favorite restaurants. It's probably the most well-known non-tourist restaurant in the Mediterranean. The location is frightfully close to La Rambla but very well hidden. It practically looks like a hole in the wall, like a very simple bar. But - my friends - beyond that bar lies a fabulous spanish kitchen and two or three floors of great restaurant, including a chambre de privé (not mixed up with club privé - another story) for about ten to 12 people.
I entered this holy sanctimony more than twelve years ago, when I lived in Barcelona. One of my classmates, a woman in her late 40's invited me to dine with her and some friends. She told me - in absolute confidence I might add - about this little culinary pearl of hers.
I'd like to remind everyone that Barcelona wasn't just a simple walk in the park back in 1992. The city was still preparing for the olympic games. Tourists and foreigners were recommended to stay away from certain areas like El Barrio Gotic where Los Caracoles is located. ETA - the basque separatist movement - made their entrance by letting several bombs go off in different parts of the city. What can I say, it was exciting times.
That's why this was such an adventure. It was like stepping into the unknown when we left the cab on La Rambla and took our first steps on Calle Escudellers. Locals where standing on both sides of the street, talking and pointing at the foreign crowd. Most of the locals were either homeless or criminals - or both.
Well, over to the great discovery of that evening: El Cordero Asado (The Roasted Lamb). It was the third plate we ordered and it was just fabulous. The meat feel of the bone, the potatoes and the onion was so finely roasted that they melted in my mouth. I just had to order another bottle of wine. I do recall it was a Montecillo Gran Reserva.
Since 1992 I have been a frequent guest at this great restaurant. It's been in business for close to 200 years and I hope I'll help to keep it in business for at least another 50 years. Wouldn't mind having my last supper there.
PS. Let this be a lesson to you kids: Low-carbs and South Beach Diet is nothing more than a marketing scam. The true pleasure and healthy living lies in eating great food in moderation as well as exercising.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
The Wine I Enjoy the Most: Castillo de Ygay
Marques de Murrieta Castillo de Ygay Gran Reserve Especial (1989's and 1994's) is one of the most fantastic wines I have ever had the pleasure to drink. I cannot remember the first time I tasted this glorious wine - which I think is a good thing. But it was most likely during one of my visits to my friend Manolo in Barcelona. Manolo was halfway into his PhD when he invited a bunch of us to enjoy his company in the San Francisco of Europe. Well, I think he invited us only once. His company, conversation and energy is exquisite so we kept coming. He did get his PhD but that's another story.
I vaguely remember a craving for roasted lamb and the restaurant Los Caracoles but I'm not really sure. Anyway - the depth of this wonderful wine and it's raspberry, blackberry, earthy and leathery tast overwhelmed me. The wine is a classic Rioja with a excellent texture, an acidity that leaves the palate cleansed and the length is delicious. And it has one of the most beautiful labels I have ever seen (Rothschild included).
I started to buy the 89's when visiting Barcelona during the end of the 90's. It was less than $15 at the airport. Might have even been under $12 factoring in the favorable exchange rate at the time. Oh, I wish I had bought more. This wine is only made in the best years which are few and far between. I currently host about 7 bottles of the 94's in my cellar. I buy them from the Wine Bank in San Diego - a fantastic establishment run buy two brothers. The 94's are about $38 per bottle which is the deal of the century if you compare with a lot of the crap ones that Napa and Sonoma cranks out for $50 a bottle. Hmm, after checking I think we are down to 6 bottles. Well, I need to give them a call to ship another case. As a matter of fact, I should get a few just to save for the future.
The Bodega Marques de Murrieta was founded by Luciano de Murrieta y García-Lemoine. He learned about wines from his uncle Crístobal Pascual de Murrieta, who was a London banker. Luciano bought the Ygay estate in 1872 and his family had the winery until Vicente Cabrián bought it in 1983. They still run it.
I can warm-heartedly recommend this winery. It's in one of the most amazing wine regions in the world and delivers well beyond it's promises.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
"Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing"
My familiarity with Chris Isaak's music and performance style was rather nonexistent before last nights concert at the Paul Masson winery in Saratoga. I had heard a few of his songs, most notable "Wicked Games" and "Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing", but that's about it. Oh, another thing: He seemed to be more popular among women than men. He supposedly had some kind of sexy star quality. Whatever.
It's about 8:30pm, the sun is gone and the vineyard is covered in darkness. Chris Isaak walks on stage in a pair of black boots, a pink 50's suit and a steel guitar. His band - mostly middle-aged musicians - are all dressed in black. Smoke is pouring out from under the stage and the winery turns into a colorful, loud rock'n'roll celebration. And there it is. Chris Isaak's voice which sounds like a crying heart on it's highway into the desert. A man alone that needs protection and love. A wounded heart that is dying.
Beyond the lyrical themes of lost love and female deceit lies a brilliant blues and rock legacy. The mixture is intriging and becomes alive with his lonely voice. His performance is captivating as well as his skills as an entertainer. The storytelling between the songs is hilarious and rather provoking. The audience laughs and shrugs it off but the naked truth is already public.
It was a superb evening and I left the concert both entertained and thought provoked as well as a little tipsy from all the wine.
Monday, August 09, 2004
The Best La Bandera in Mexico
When it comes to drinks nationalism is quite comme-il-faut. Most countries have a national drink that has survived the evil prosecution of teetotallers as well as puritans. In Russia it's Vodka, in Japan Sake, in Sweden Schnapps, in France Absinthe, in Brazil Caipirinha and the list goes on.
In Mexico there is a number of interesting drinks and shots. First we have La Tequila which has to be 100% de Agave. It's made in three different kinds: el Blanco, el Reposado and el Añejo. The first is for 10x shots in a rowdy bar close to midnight and the second for sipping Margaritas in the most romantic setting. The third is unique and should be treated with care and tenderness. It's el Añejo. It should be had after a superb meal (I'd say roasted lamb) while smoking a Cohiba Robusto.
The second drink is La Sangrita (from sangre = blod) and comes in two glasses: one shot of tequila (el Blanco) and a glass of spicy tomato juice.
The third and last drink is La Bandera and equal to La Sangrita except for the addition of the third glass which should contain squeezed lime. La Bandera means flag and the three glasses symbolizes the Mexican flag with green, white and red. Enjoying how the different combinations of the lime, tequila and tomato juice is coming together in your mouth is most joyful.
Arriba, abajo, por el centro, por el dentro.
Saturday, August 07, 2004
San Francisco: Long Time No See
Saturday morning marks the start of another adventurous weekend in the life of Perin. An early rise and shine followed by a strong cup-a-coffee and some cereal for myself and 1 hour workout at the San Francisco Bay Club for the missus. I still feel tired from the past weeks long working hours while Erin is alive'n'kickin', fully energized and already out the door for the second mission for the weekend: to test drive the new Mini Cooper S. All this before 10am PDT. I'm telling you - what is the world coming too.
My saturday approach differs from my wife's. I'm already thinking about the next cup of java and looking forward to a very tranquil weekend including the regular attributes: wine-drinking, book-reading and cigar-smoking. I've a pretty good feeling that I can convince her. It might cost me a Mini Cooper S though.
The top of the Golden Gate Bridge is now visible through the fog and the sky is April-blue. I can see the Marin Headlands from our bedroom window and am contemplating if I should dust of the MTB and head over for an aggressive run. I decide not to. As much as I need and should work out I feel that this weekend needs to be in honor of good old fashioned hedonism. The kind when you allow yourself to reflect on the good times between every sip of wine and don't hesitate to choose the don'ts over the do's.
I do think reflection and thinking is something very European while execution and decision-making is very American. If you put them both together - like nitro and glycerin - you have something very explosive. But - and this is a helluva but - let's not mix that drink this weekend.
I'm going to try to enjoy our weekend in San Francisco, the first one for quite some time, as if I was a tourist - accidental but not ignorant (i.e. no Fisherman's Wharf crap, Spikey).
My saturday approach differs from my wife's. I'm already thinking about the next cup of java and looking forward to a very tranquil weekend including the regular attributes: wine-drinking, book-reading and cigar-smoking. I've a pretty good feeling that I can convince her. It might cost me a Mini Cooper S though.
The top of the Golden Gate Bridge is now visible through the fog and the sky is April-blue. I can see the Marin Headlands from our bedroom window and am contemplating if I should dust of the MTB and head over for an aggressive run. I decide not to. As much as I need and should work out I feel that this weekend needs to be in honor of good old fashioned hedonism. The kind when you allow yourself to reflect on the good times between every sip of wine and don't hesitate to choose the don'ts over the do's.
I do think reflection and thinking is something very European while execution and decision-making is very American. If you put them both together - like nitro and glycerin - you have something very explosive. But - and this is a helluva but - let's not mix that drink this weekend.
I'm going to try to enjoy our weekend in San Francisco, the first one for quite some time, as if I was a tourist - accidental but not ignorant (i.e. no Fisherman's Wharf crap, Spikey).
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