Written with Giorgio de Maria Fun Wines.
The tumultuous spring continues in France, with the fruit coming onto the vines as the weather lurches unpredictably. In the Canary Islands they’re already picking, while at home in Australia the vines are drifting into sleep, the wines hopefully enjoying that little extra chill in the cellar to help the fermentation (see more on that below). In the Cook Islands, Sean Moran is eating sea grapes and asking if anyone has tried to grow them at home. Anyone?
We’ve just returned from a rather spectacular little sojourn in Spain. We took our old Combi van (admittedly better on paper than in reality) and meandered (very literally) down the coast, from the haunting vacancy of the Camargue and the vine-crowded beauty of the coastline around Banyuls: tielle in Sète, anchovies in Coulliore, tapas in Cadaqués.
There was a spectacular lunch at Rafa’s in Roses. An unassuming location: the town large and ugly, unsurprisingly deserted, the restaurant in a laneway that lacked personality, let alone romance. But the seafood sung: tiny telline clams, both smoky and sweet, a perfect turbot (and the pure delight of sucking the little orzo-esque fatty deposits between the bones of the dorsal fin) and, the subtle showstopper, a simple tomato and onion salad. The tomatoes were skinned, but didn’t appear cooked, the seeds mostly removed; that deep, ghostly umami amplified simply with a little salt, vinegar and oil. I don’t think we’re in peak tomato season, the solstice having only just passed us by, and yet these tomatoes were perfect. Thanks for the tip, Burgo.
It wasn’t all food and wine (it was definitely mostly food and wine), with a pit stop at the delightful little Fauvist gallery in Coulliore. It’s an art period I have loved since discovering the collection at L’Annonciade in St Tropez (another delight if you’re ever in the area). These galleries are both well-placed to celebrate the moment, the movement shines with the Mediterranean sunshine. The “wild ones” had way of seeing the world in bright and happy hues, liberating colour from subject – a short-lived but exciting passage from impressionism to cubism. I wonder why some creative pursuits have such clear delineation in their so-called movements, and others don’t. Friendship? Open and shared thought? Organised criticism and exposition? Blatant copying? Hmm.
We also managed to visit the Dali Museum – essentially a humble collection of fishermen’s cottages Dali and Gala joined together to make a home. It is decorated in Hirst Castle-esque whimsy, haute yet humble. An intimate insight into the artist and his wife. And yet, in the light-filled beauty of the home, there were no hints of the dark connections to Franco et al. Obviously far right politics are a pretty hot topic over here right now and the guide practically choked on her words when asked about it. While living, his politics saw him cast off from his contemporaries within the surrealist movement (another movement!) and even Orwell calls him a grub, which is quite something, coming from Orwell.
I went to sleep pondering his alliances vs my own beliefs contrasted with the beauty of that little home. Where does this fit in the idea of marching with our wallet? In supporting the people we like and respect? Can we/should we separate art from emotion, from politics? And wine? And restaurants? Where do we draw the line? How do we separate rumours from fact? Vendetta from vengeance? In newsletters like this we certainly have the choice to do good by good people. In our homes, likewise. My mate James Parry would only buy cookbooks by people he really respected as he didn’t want any jerks on his bookshelf. I like that. I named my child James.
All that said, we were really there for another museum. Like many before us, we were making the pilgrimage to El Bulli. Of course the restaurant has long closed, the space now designated to telling the story of the 50 years that came before, along with the projects that will occupy their future (a 30 volume, 500 pages/volume “Bullipedia” among them). I was there to look at the ways in which culinary history and culture can be recorded and represented – a research trip for the book I am writing with the erudite and exceptional Julie Gibbs. It is a book that will tell the story of the past 50 years of cooking in Australia via the Powerhouse Museum’s Culinary Archive.
The predominant focus at El Bulli is on representing Ferran’s theories on cooking – the Sapiens theory – and the creativity and novelty intrinsic in the molecular gastronomy movement; from the seemingly simple questions (what is cooking?) to the more complex (also, what is cooking?). As you will now know, I am fascinated by these waves of thought. It appears Ferran saw his influence similarly and sought to classify it that way. Stepping in after Nouvelle Cuisine, another movement with founders, commandments and disciples, he saw his food as part of a “revolution that respects the past” - his key role to create, not copy (and create he did, the museum holding a record of some 1800 dishes created during his reign). There were lists of like-minded thinkers from around the world (Peter Doyle an interesting and I think under-rated inclusion from Oz).
This is what we are distilling from the archives. What waves (beyond the obvious immigration waves) have defined Australian cooking? What are the key themes, movements, moments? Your thoughts and ideas would be very warmly welcomed.
Restaurants:
L’ami Louis has been sold this week to LMVH. It provided a great excuse to indulge in A. A. Gill’s review again. From the waiters (like “Vichy ticket collectors”) to the snails (“Twenty minutes later, possibly under their own steam, the snails arrive.”); the mâche and frisée salad (“two leaves that rarely share a bowl, due to their irreconcilable differences”) all leading to the fatal heart punch (“reputation and expectation are the MSG of fine dining”). He is sorely missed. That kind of brave truth telling is missed too.
Neil Perry won the icon award at the 2024 50 Best Awards (you can also check out the rest of the list, if you’re keen).
Producers:
Aaron was talking about wine ferments in less intense winters (his suggestion being we will find more mousiness), while on his podcast he had a chat to Sune Rosforth, of Copenhagen wine importer Rosforth and Rosforth. Sune sails in much of his wine from France and now Spain … actually on a sailing boat. There was some interesting chat between the two about the impact of the waves on the wine (spoiler alert, it was not the negatives we are used to discussing in Oz, rather the opposite).
Sune also talks about the impact Georgian wine-maker John Wurdeman (Pheasant’s Tears) had on his early understanding of natural wine. If you know Mike Bennie, you’ll be following his adventures in the region on his insta. My curiosity with Georgia began not with wine, but with its inclusion in the olive growing map around the Med – the only non-Med facing region with olives. From a wine perspective it’s easy to see the appeal: 500-odd indigenous grapes and 6,000-odd year history of growing. Follow Adain Raftery and Mads Kleppe for an insight into their work in the region. Apartamento Magazine have a feature on John in their up-coming issue and a fabulous little film here to whet your appetite, Alice Feiring write a whole book about the region if you want to know more.
I have been thinking a lot about so-called “plasticulture” – there are some fascinating comments in this post, also in this Atlantic article (pay wall), which I’m guessing was the catalyst. Not just environmental impact, but also the political fallout. I think it’s fair to suggest that some of these strangleholds on agriculture have been created by the demand and leave farmers feeling they have no way out. Take, for example, rising petrol prices that impinge unfairly on those who need cars to get about all while being judged by those in the inner city who do actually have the spending power. It’s hard to imagine hectic protectionism is the solution. By the time you read this France will have had the first round of voting out of the way, to say I am anxious would be a gross understatement.
Words:
I enjoyed reading Flavorama author Arielle Johnson on, funnily enough, flavour: “One of the big problems in our modern systems is that flavor has suffered and nutrition has suffered, and these things are not unrelated. There appears to be some relationship between the flavor compounds in plants, and the nutritionally bioactive ones. The research is still very early, but it suggests that a lot of flavor compounds are either related to things like vitamins or are vitamins themselves.” Nothing that intuition (and anecdotal evidence) hasn’t already told us. I’m looking forward to science catching up. Let’s hope that happens soon.
Ruth Reichl was awarded the James Beard Lifetime Achievement Award this month. I have told you to sign up to her excellent newsletter La Briffe before, I (re)implore you to do it, if you have not already. This time it’s some lovely thoughts from her archive on the revolution of farming in California; “They are perfectionists who work very hard not because they expect to get rich but simply because they expect to get the best.”
It's been a little while since I sung the praises of the St John Instagram. It is still my all-time favourite, the account for all restaurants to aspire to. Equally uplifting is the wonderful work of Manon farm, here singing the praises of their maize. And finally, an a perennial (ha) favourite who has now committed her words to paper with her own book (photographed by another wonderful friend Luke Burgess, photographer of the pic of Giorgio and I above). Broccoli and other love stories will undoubtedly be imbibed with all of her beauty, grace and observation. Find it. Buy it.