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Brianwas shamed by other men's obsessions. They exposed his own muddling drift, the voice he heard, soft, faint and faraway, that told him not to bother. Don DeLillo, Underworld.
A vinous pause. I've been uninterested and spluttering and more concerned about finishing DeLillo's book that has been sitting unbroken on my bookshelf since it was purchased more than a decade ago. The text meanders across the years and the secrets are revealed a pixel at a time. . . circles ever smaller and points of interest dissected with the most vivid and wonderful phrase and image.
My shame is deep enough. Let's not examine the details. The last time I was bed bound I read Jeffery Eugenides book
Middlesex. Curious then to find this one liner from DeLillo:
8. The Coptic family in Detroit - never mind, it's too complicated, riots and fires in the distance, tanks in the streets.It's the perfect synopsis for Middlesex, which was first published five or six years after Underworld.
Tasting note: A late harvest Albarino with a bee on the label and both ends of the cork. . . surely there can only be tears of regret. Extreme levels of sweetness (I'd guess north of 150g/L) which are inadequately buffered and balanced. It's top heavy and dull, shrivelled and burnt. A honeycomb and dried fig nose while in the mouth it is like drinking tinned apricot nectar.
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I'm back in
Dogistan which mostly means walks at odd moments of the day and night, while scooping up poo at regular intervals. . . In the evening I look to the sky and invariably I gaze at Orion, or at least his belt and his coloured hand - Betelgeuse, the red and variable supergiant.
A Blistering beetle, such as the one pictured above contains cantharidin, which is exceedingly toxic and potentially fatal if ingested, which of course explains why some foolishly consider it an aphrodisiac. . . it's relative the colourful Spanish fly, which is another source of cantharidin, was sometimes found in Ras el hanout, though it has been banned since the 1990's. Cantharidin is found in the male beetle's ejaculate. Wikipedia has a quaint term for it - calling it a copulatory gift. The female beetle uses the cantharidin to coat and hence protect her eggs and future offspring.
Image: From Wikipedia and belonging to
Bruce Marlin.
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Late summer and I've been struck by a dose of the flu. I've lost all desire to drink and my appetite for most things has diminished. I crave only sleep, books and familiar comforts. . . Today it was chicken soup with barley. . .
Into a pot add 2 diced onions and a tablespoon or two of olive oil. Fry till clear and than add three cloves of crushed garlic and 3 carrots and 2 sticks of celery that have been diced. Fry and stir for a few minutes before adding a 400g tin of crushed tomatoes and 2 litres of home made chicken stock. Bring to the boil and then add 200g of rinsed pearl barley. Cook at low heat until the barley is ready (40-60 minutes) and then add the desired amount of left over chicken meat (300-400g of left over roast chicken for instance). Once the meat is warmed through add salt and pepper and then garnish with parsley.
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Jim Campbell's 2010 installation - Scattered Light. It first appeared inManhattan'sMaddison Square Park. It's now temporarily on Fraser Avenue as a part of the Festival of Perth. The LED bulbs flicker and sway and the humans are drawn moth like to the light.
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Tasted blind - it would be hard to avoid the obvious visual cues - the narrow bottle and the screw cap. . . the nose only leads you further astray - apple and lime. . . surely it must be a riesling.
Great Southern. 13.5%.
There's much more to the nose - cherry pips and almond meal. . . pine nut. In the mouth it's lean and well paced, any flesh is taut, but still there is seam of almond and twist of concluding bitterness.
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Home made bacon with a fried egg (hidden behind the apple salad) and peach ketchup. Absurdly delicious and just the sort of plate I've come to expect from Cantina.
Related
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12.5%. Clare. South Australia. Everything I might possible say seems clichéd and worn. Lime and powder, flint and citrus blossom. Thick but electric, unusually languid to begin before becoming more briskly paced without ever seeming urgent or anxious. Persistent and bright, but also expected and unsurprising.
Related:
2012 Polish Hill.
2011 Springvale.
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The observant will notice each end of the cork is covered by a thin membrane. It was disconcertingly raised and blistered, which I've not seen with a ProCork before. Perhaps this accounts for the visible seepage. You would assume that oxygen has been happily moving back and forth along the same path.
Not particularly alluring, I stopped after only
two glasses. Rosewood, earth and plums. Dark and dusty, tired and creased. The first sip was unexpectedly sour, it seemed wrong and overly anxious; I was tempted to spit. It broadens with time and becomes more savoury and wild, the finish too starts to feel sticky and adhesive.
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Two bottles of the same wine, the 2006 De Bortoli Noble One. They started life together, but from the moment of purchase they were divided. One cellared at a constant 14 degrees and the other wrapped in foil and left to face the seasons. Sometimes it was cold (9 degrees) and sometimes it was hot (29 degrees). It was always dark.
The paler wine has had a more regulated life. It has more definition and nuance, I can taste apricots (dried) and feel a sting of acid. The darker is still enjoyable enough, but it is more of a caricature and tastes burnt and burnished with less focus and more flab. It tastes old and tired.
I'm not sure that this exercise proves anything new. Cellaring and temperature do make a difference, even for bottles with a 'perfect' seal
*. Colour is a reasonable marker of quality
** and if you have a choice of bottles (of the same wine from the same year) pick the one that looks paler.
Related.
* the perfect seal does not exist. A screwcap at least is hermetic, predictable and free of taint.** A pale wine is not always a quality wine, but the paler white wine from a pair of twins is likely to be the better bottle.
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A trio of Australian chardonnay of high repute. A remarkably well preserved
2007 Pierro Chardonnay (Screwcap. 14%. Margaret River) still showing flashes of green. Rich, ripe and full. Butterscotch, cream and peaches. Curved and delicious. Next a golden
2000 Leeuwin Art Series Chardonnay (Cork - crumbling. 14%. Margaret River). On a slow downward slide, tanned and starting to show its lines and wrinkles.
Tasted with its peers the
Giaconda seemed subdued, at least initially. Curry leaf, peach, melon and butterscotch. Matchstick. Something recently struck and still smouldering. Intense and textured, layered, long and rewarding. Essence like and fatty but still mineral, hard and long. (13%. Screwcap. Approx $A120.)
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Purchased together and read sequentially, both books discuss information and decision making. Taleb is fond of neologisms (fragilistas, extremistan, mediocristan), throwing stones (at economists and doctors), and the tested and antifragile ideas of the ancients. Silver is younger and has more optimism and faith in technology and excel spreadsheets. A statistician with a fondness for baseball, poker and politics.
There is a clear contrast in delivery and the core message, but ultimately the conclusions are not irreconcilable. Both books highlight our weakness in making predictions and forecasts. Taleb concludes it is far safer to work out if something is fragile or the opposite - antifragile (and benefiting from volatility and disorder) and to position or protect yourself accordingly. Silver suggests we are overconfident in our ability to predict and suggests we look to Bayes and his theorem to better work the odds, so we might recalibrate our ideas and make better bets. (I suspect Taleb would counter that this only serves to make us more confident and to over extend so we get even more burnt when a Black Swan eventually arrives).
Silver's book is the easier and quicker read, it's certainly less tangential. Taleb's book is more elusive and digressive and amusing. I suspect in the weeks and years to come it will be Antifragile that I will seek to re read. . .
A quote from Antifragile:
I, for my part, resist eating fruits not found in the ancient Eastern Mediterranean. I avoid any fruit that does not have an ancient Greek or Hebrew name, such as mangoes, papayas, even oranges. . . As to liquid, my rule is to drink no liquid that is not at least a thousand years old - so its fitness has been tested. I drink just wine, water, and coffee. . . I would add that, in my own experience, a considerable jump in my personal health has been achieved by removing offensive irritants: the morning newspapers (the mere mention of the names of the fragilista journalists Thomas Friedman or Paul Krugman can lead to explosive bouts of unrequited anger on my part), the boss, the daily commute, air-conditioning, television. . .
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Or more specifically a pair of new release (2010) Turkey Flat reds. The Grenache (red cap and approx $28, 15%) and Mourvedre (brown cap and approx $33, 14.5%). A kind gift from a colleague, regular readers will no doubt realise both are to the right of my normal field of vision.
The Grenache is big and volatile, the nose is non specific and even after a quick chill it prickles with alcohol. Raspberry and confection and later cream. The finish is like an emulsion of silt, meat and chocolate. A forceful, pounding and heavy handed wine which still manages to disarm.
The Mourvedre is more spiced, earthy and less volatile, though by nights end it too is non specific and over warm. Broader and more expansive than the Grenache, a push rather than a thump. . . loose, languid and uncoiled with a hint of cola before tea leaf and leather tannins. By a small fraction, my favoured wine of the pair.
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