Wine Fictions

 Even though I consider Hamburg to be a very lively wine city with several wine events happening a bit all around, I have to confess that most of the shops existing are concentrated in a considerably small circle taking in account the dimension of this almost two million inhabitants city.  In the area where I live there are only two wine shops which are 1,2 and 3 kilometers away. In both cases, they belong to major retailing chains, being that one of them is frankly competing with supermarkets, not really representing a good option at the time of choosing a wine. There are a couple of wine bars where you are offered a more or less independent selection but I have the feeling that it is just enough.  When moving eastern the options reduce drastically.  At this point I have to quickly explain that the supermarket wine supply in Germany is mainly taking in account price competition instead of focusing on quality, seldomly presenting a solid offer to people who want to e...

As I have moved to Hamburg about thirteen years ago, I started being invaded with a strong feeling of reliving some of the dishes that have marked my growing up in Portugal. Some are easier than others to recreate, being strongly dependent on the ingredients that you can find. One that has been persistently buzzing in my head is Cabidela .  Original from the north of Portugal with different varietals in almost all the former portuguese colonies, this has been one of my all time favourite dishes. But hard do it in Hamburg. I have asked several butchers for blood but I have been invariously looked with a mix of suspicion and fear.  But while having a look at the possibility of buying a piglet at an asian supermarket, I have came across duck blood.  Without hesitation I bought it and immediately invited a group of friends to come over and try the cabidela.  Being the first time that I have tried to cook it, it was not as good as I wanted it, but I was still satisfied wi...

While reading Nigel Slater 's fascinating A Thousand Feasts I came across a text that, for me, stood out from all the others. Unlike what often happens with me, in this case, it was not a particular bombastic text, but one which has something of a Japanese simplicity and beauty. In a sensitive way Slater describes the joy of eating alone, in an intensity spiral growing throughout the text to some sort of a final climax when he refers to a book where someone has stated that people who have a glass of wine on its own can already be considered an alcoholic. His reaction to it appears as a request "to get out and find yourself a life"*. He ends up concluding that a glass of wine on your own can be as good as one shared with friends.  I can only but agree. Even though I really love to share a glass of wine with people I love, I also deeply enjoy opening a bottle of wine on my own and enjoy the first sip of wine without any distraction. Just me and a glass of wine in a sort of...