Ask anyone in the wine trade who has spent time in China about the state of play with Chinese wines and you’ll usually get the gruff response of ‘save the glassware and directly pour it down the sink’. BOOM! Harsh but fair when 90%+ of domestic product is pretty average (real average = gag worthy).
I was up in Hai by Goga yesterday afternoon to say hi to Mr Brad Turley, resident Chef extraordinaire, mixer of Shanghai’s best ‘Spritz’ and owner of the greatest collection of Hawaiian shirts in the history of man.
He had just returned from a culinary adventure throughout France and Italy, and was positively bouncing around the room, running on the fumes of a once in a lifetime European gastro-getaway.
Recently, a good friend of mine donated some kopi luwak coffee to my personal cause, which is, to taste the best of everything in life – possibly without working, because A. I am rich; so i can B. Working is tiring C. There a lot of people looking to work that can do the work for me cheaply D. I dont really have a job.
On a recent ‘patient visit’ to Italy (where this good Doctor shall be relocating his drinking ‘practice’ as of late November) I stumbled into Sicily: yes, mafia land and home to scary dudes with lots of chest hair & gold jewelry. But its also home to some cracking vino and an absolute little gem called Marsala (which comes from, funnily enough, Marsala!).
Ok so I love big Italian wine and the one and only time I ventured to Verona I stayed with an old friend who’s brother was a male model called Leonardo.
I think he was a hand model (think George Costanza) as he wasn’t exactly Fabio material in the face (nor body). Either that or I got ‘model’ and ‘porno star’ mixed up. I also remember getting absolutley pissed as a mule in Borghetto just outside of Verona on the local plonk: lest, it was love at first sip.