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2017 Grateful 43

I’ve long been a fan of a simple G&T and have only lately moved up the gin ladder to gin-based cocktails. I was a tad late for the onset of the gin revolution but am now happily making up for lost time. I wrote a while back of an eventful meal where gin replaced wine with a new one coming with each course. I’d highly recommend the experience .

Since that memorable evening, my holiday shopping has moved from jewelry shops (my travel bracelet won’t take any more charms) to the booze shelf at the local supermarket or the native equivalent of an off-license. I can lose an hour or so checking out the local gins, taking note of names to try at the local bars before deciding which to bring home with me. I enjoy the research. I was quite taken recently to see that my Dublin local is now stocking a favourite from Wisconsin – Death’s Door.

I’m quite a fan of Spanish gin after my first introduction to it at AkaBar at Baraka in Budapest – the place to go in Budapest for a decent cocktail. Since then I’ve tried the Ginebra Petra Mora (a birthday present) with an international list of ingredients that would keep you in food for a week: wild celery from Belgium, bitter almond, coriander from Bulgaria, more coriander from Morocco, juniper berries, bark of cassia, lemon peel, licorice root, orris root, orange peel, grapefruit peel, ginger, and a touch of cherry. Lovely – but don’t scrimp on cheap tonic. Invest in the good stuff.

This week, I got a belated birthday gin – another Spanish one, that came in its own lantern, stylishly packaged. The gin game is getting serious. Some I’d be tempted to buy just for the bottles. I happened across a 2013 review of this one in Gin Foundry,  and was highly amused. The wine narrative is losing its hold and has competition. You could have hours (well, minutes) of fun trying to pick out the herbal tastes.

 

It smells herbaceous, with resinous juniper and thyme dominating. Olives are also apparent. To taste, more juniper with a burst of basil, rosemary and thyme emerge as well as coriander. The combination feels savoury and different to other gins on the shelf, marking Gin Mare as both authentic and original. It can be considered as being part of a very short list of “Herbal” gins, and when served with the right tonic, makes for a delightful aperitivo.

But as with wine and art, I don’t pretend to know what I’m talking about. I know simply what I like and what I don’t. Whether Gin Mare is authentic or original is beyond me. But it rates on my list. Like perfume, sometimes the appeal fades – I’ve gotten over Bombay Sapphire and Gordons. I’ve moved beyond Hendricks. I’ve lost my taste for Dingle (but it had a good run). I never acquired a taste for Sipsmith. Right now, I’m in Spanish mode. And lovin’ it. To MD and JF, thanks, lads. Lots of gin gratitude spinning its way towards ye.

2013 Grateful 49

Eons ago, in another life, the lovely MC et moi would go on a regular ‘posh night out’ in London. This usually consisted of frocking up, and booking a table at one of London’s fine dining establishments having first explored a suitable cocktail venue. I have fond recollections of cosmos at the Ritz, and roast lamb at Simpsons. Having found in VP a kindred posh-frock, white-tablecloth, silver-service spirit, this tradition has been revived, in Budapest, for 2013. And this weekend marked our first venture forth.

When we turfed up at Baraka, the restaurant at MaMaison on Andrássy, we were a little surprised to find we had the place to ourselves, but immediately reckoned that this would have a knock-on effect of attentive service and deep and meaningfuls with the sommelier and the waiter. Initially tempted by the degustation – a five-course tasting from the menu, with wine – actually having our minds made up for us, while tempting, wasn’t quite what either of us wanted.

When asked, the waiter assured us that he knew how to make a cosmopolitan and indeed could make a good, if not a great cosmo. When you think of the specific ingredients that make up this nectar of the gods – vodka, triple sec, cranberry juice, and lime – you have to wonder how it is possible to screw it up. Ever since those heady days in London in 2002/2003, I’ve been in search of the perfect cosmo and the highest I’ve rated any in Budapest is 8. Suffice to say that it was topped this night. And, the secret – according to our amateur mixologist – is to go a little light on the cranberry.

We discussed the wine. Or rather VP showed her extensive knowledge of all things grape-related while I dealt in the more perfunctory ‘white, dry, no berries’. Wine is definitely not my forte. Gyergy knew this stuff, though, and pretty soon had shown he had that rare ability in a man to anticipate just what it is I want when I don’t even know myself –  a glass of Szászi Endre Szent György-hegyi Muscat Ottonel 2012 (now on my list of favourite Hungarian wines). VP opted for a Landlord Chardonnay from Légli pince – a little too oakey for me. (Am impressing myself!)

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I started with Langoustine roasted with piment d’espelette, beef cheek, confit croquette, cauliflower, red pepper coulis, and arugula pesto. And, admittedly, after I got over the fear of having to leave a restaurant hungry, I did something I don’t often do – I ate slowly and savoured every morsel. VP enjoyed a gingered pumpkin soup with duck confit-canelli bean tartlette, with mango balsamic espuma.

Then the wine change. The part I dread. I know there’s nothing to say that I can’t keep drinking the same stuff throughout a meal, but those in the know say a wine should complement your meal. What to do? I simply don’t like red wine yet I’d ordered meat. After some more discussion, our man hit on a Dörgicsei Rozé Cuvée from Pántlika Pincészet. In my limited experience with sommeliers, I have found the vast majority to be a tad condescending, particularly, as is usually the case with me, it’s patently obviously that I’m clueless. Yet with VP holding her own in the bouquet stakes, I was actually getting an education. And knowing what she liked, her choice of a 2009 Merlot from Takler Pince in Szekszárd was a choice born from experience.

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For my main, I ordered mangalica: walnut crusted loin, braised cheek, glazed belly with wasabi potato, celery and pearl barley. Beautifully presented, my immediate thought was ‘this wouldn’t feed a pidgeon’. Again, I ate slowly, savouring each bite, enjoying my wine and the conversation  – which was by now becoming quite philosophical. VP was daintily devouring her date-crusted venison loin, red cabbage purée, onion confit, gratin potato french fries, Brussel spouts and cocoa sauce. A couple of more tables had filled up but this didn’t in any way diminish the discreet attentiveness of our waiters.

At this stage, I was surprised to find myself almost pleasantly full. Yet having seen the portions and recalibrated my perspective, I was confident I could fit in dessert.

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My New York cheesecake with cranberry, almond and caramel, was a perfect accompaniment to a glass of Vissy László Tokaji  Peres Furmint. We were the first to arrive and the last to leave and easily the most interesting guests that evening. So at Gyergy’s suggestion we tried a chocolate-flavoured digestif – and it was our undoing. Too thin, I thought. And I wisely left mine alone. Ye gods – could it be that I am finally growing up?

I’ve been to breakfast meetings in the States where the food was piled six inches high on the plate. I’ve been to Hungarian restaurants where you wonder if there’s a plate there at all. And I’ve had this type of haute cuisine where you can count the slivers of carrots on one hand (one other Hungarian experience still haunts me). Baraka has it all though – great food, excellent service, nice atmosphere, good-humoured staff, and portions that while they  may cause some initial concern, actually do what they are designed to do – satisfy.

You could do a lot worse in Budapest if you’re looking for somewhere to entertain a client or celebrate a special occasion.  If you’re watching your forints, it’s worth saving for….you certainly get value for your money.

This week, I’m grateful that I’ve finally learned to eat slowly, to really savour my food, and to put my portions in perspective. And I’m grateful for the revival of an old but not forgotten tradition. Thanks VP.

Note: For a reminder of what the Grateful series is about, check out Grateful 52