Anointed | The Spectator

The rebirth of Greek wine

One of the great stories in the world of wine over the last half century is the rebirth of Greek wine. I say “rebirth” because wine has been an inextricable part of the story of Greece from time immemorial. What would Plato’s Symposium — literally “drinking party” — be without wine? And the story of Greek wine goes back much further than that. According to experts, wine grapes have been cultivated in Greece from about 6000 BC. Anyone who has read Homer recalls his frequent deployment of the epithet “οἶνοψ πόντος.” That is usually translated as “wine-dark sea,” though it literally means “wine-faced” or “wine-eyed” (οἶνος + ὄψις) sea. What color do you suppose “wine-dark” is?

Will Collins

Natural wine and tacos on the Hungarian Riviera

In the summer of 2020, as impatience with quarantine and the urge to get out of town gradually displaced fears of Covid, a joke circulated on Hungarian social media about Lake Balaton, a favorite destination for domestic holidaygoers. The post-quarantine stampede had driven up prices at the lake to such an extent, the joke went, that penny-pinching travelers should consider less expensive destinations, such as Monaco or the French Riviera. Until recently, Balaton had always been the inexpensive Hungarian alternative to pricier (and, during the Cold War, politically restricted) foreign getaways.

Ross Anderson

Trying the best coffee in the world

It was nine on a Monday morning, and whereas my fellow commuters were heading to the office, or their classrooms or a lecture hall, I was on my way to Parcafé in the Dorchester Hotel, right next to London’s bougie shopping district, Mayfair. It’s a place to buy Ferraris and Bugattis and shop at the Row and Goyard and be passed by an endless convoy of black Rolls-Royce SUVs. Waiting for me at the hotel would be a man with a little golden cup, containing a freshly brewed portion of mankind’s favorite black nectar. And his is the best, uncut stuff on the market. The man is Amir Gehl, founder and CEO of Difference Coffee, which sources some of the best, rarest coffee beans in the world.

Jane Stannus

Baked Alaska has become more accessible than ever

This doesn’t feel right. I am wrapping plastic around a freshly baked cake, preparatory to putting it in the freezer for thirty minutes. Then, I’m supposed to take it out and gingerly unmold a bowl of ice cream on top of it. Back into the freezer after that for another hour or so. The bowl of ice cream is lined with plastic wrap and filled with layers of raspberry sorbet, mango sorbet and chocolate ice cream. The ice cream was pressed flat to fill up all the gaps, and it went into the deep freeze two hours ago. Will it be firm enough to hold a beautiful dome shape as it unmolds onto the cake? Or will it slither and slide everywhere? I’m making Baked Alaska — or what seems to be a modern twist on it.

Joseph Ogilvy

Carbonara in the land of the free

In Texas the customers have opinions, and the opinions are always right, no matter how wrong. It was carbonara that taught me this crucial lesson. The diners at the restaurant where I worked brought the American talent for innovation to modifying what I had always considered a fairly simple, self-contained dish. Can you add fried chicken? Can you add grilled shrimp? Can you add meatballs? Can you add tomato sauce and meatballs? Can you do it without guanciale, without egg, without cheese? Can you do it like normal but put a fried egg on top? Can you replace the guanciale with a fillet of salmon? The answer is always yes. At the time, I was cooking at a neighborhood Italian place in a leafy part of Austin full of well-off old hippies, professional families and Texas politicos.

Food & Drink