RAVE - Two Weeks In Tuscany

While I recorded these musings day by day, I can't be assed to post 14 separate entries. So, here they are in one big lump.

Saturday, August 7 - we arrived late afternoon, after flying from London to Florence, picking up our rental vee-hickle, a surprisingly nimble Ford Galaxy 8 seater. We had rented Casa del Saraceno in (turned out to be 7 miles outside) Anghiari, in Tuscany. The house was a restored 100+ year old villa, with infinity pool and a magnificent view over forested valleys. That first night we dined on Italian comfort food (pizza, pasta) in Anghiari, and congratulated ourselves on finding heaven.

Sunday 8th ... OK, so pretty much every day from here on involved some hours in and around the pool, and a drive out in the evening to a local (but of national / international standard) restaurant. This evening however, we had Lawrence's special BBQ, which was of equally high standard.

Monday 9th ... We worked out that one or the other of the dogs that live on the farm down the lane has stolen one of our swimming pool balls each night, and this morning deposited in return a ratty pair of bikini bottoms. Needless to say, we won't try throwing those around in the pool. After returning from dinner in Anghiari, I fell asleep while everyone watched Harry Brown (starring Michael Caine), on the DVD player in our house. Therefore, the movie shall remain review-less.

Tuesday 10th ... Pavey, her sister Rippy, and my other sister-in-law Beverley strolled down past the ball-snatching dogs to another small farm. This one allowed visitors to watch the goat milking, and buy goat's milk and cheese. Later we drove the 40 miles to regional jewel Cortona (where Under The Tuscan Sun was filmed). Cortona, like almost every Tuscan town, was built on a hilltop and fortified in the 13th century. As such, they're all picture perfect. After lunch, Vivek surprised everyone by proposing to Rippy (he had brought the ring with him), so we hot-tailed it back to our villa and broke open the champagne.

Wednesday 11th ... Today was supposed to be a golf day, but instead we had breakfast in Arezzo, in the shadow of a church housing frescoes created by Piero della Francesco, whom many credit as the first artist to properly render perspective. I peeked in, but the recently restored frescoes were off limits to the public, so I got my butt hauled up and down the hills on which Arezzo is built. We had lunch at the excellent Logge Vasari (www.loggevasari.it), on Arezzo's Piazza Grande. Not that it matters in light of Vasari's architectural masterpieces scattered around the square, but I had gnocchi with a king's ransom's worth of white truffle shavings. Later that afternoon, I managed to fall asleep pool-side. Lawrence and the others legged it inside when there was brief thunder and the threat of rain, hoping that yours truly would get wet. Fortunately, my inner survival instincts kicked in, and I woke up and spoiled their fun. We had dinner in Anghiari at Piazza Baldacci, and now I'm thinking "did we really do and eat all that in one day?"

Thursday 12th .... We've now encountered spiders, giant grasshoppers, 1"-2" black scorpions, and so many assorted bugs it's like an entomologist's paradise. The crickets (cicalas, or cicadas) are louder than 747s. An unbelievable dinner at 2 Michelin starred Ristorante da Alighieri (www.daalighiero.it) in a 14th century cellar in Anghiari. I remember the chicken liver salad, gnocchi with truffles, pork with port reduction, ricotta soufflé with truffles, bisquit with wine, panacotta, and espresso teamed with Brunello di Montalcino and a syrah with an unpronounceable name.

Friday 13th ... drove the 1.5 hours into Florence to meet Krish at the airport, and get our Il Duomo fix. Weather wet, to say the least. Brollies and plastic covers, so not much time spent admiring Fillippo Brunelleschi's handiwork.

Saturday 14th ... back to Florence to drop newly-engaged Rippy and Viv at the airport. I'm dog tired at end of 2 days of driving.

Sunday 15th ... Dinner at the fabulously elegant Ristorante Fiorentino, (www.ristorantefiorentino.it/Ristorante.aspx) 10 miles away in San Sepolcro, More pasta and tartufo (truffle), and more Rosso di Montalcino.

Monday 16th ... Enjoyed Perugia and Assisi, the latter being made famous by St Francis of Anaheim, it being Disney-perfect. Dinner in the main square of Assisi, then what felt like a long drive back on the world's least lit freeway. Bloody Italians! They build some of the fastest cars you can buy, and then make it virtually impossible to drive them on their bumpy and poorly-lit roads.

Tuesday 17th .... another one of Lawrence's BBQs, washed down with the last of the champagne and gallons of Montalcino.

Wednesday 18th ... Why is there nothing to report today? Because I had a brain fart and missed the entire day. I thought we had 3 days left after today, but it turns out I've got one day less than expected. Where did that day go?

Thursday 19th ... The aim of most vacations is to relax so totally that one forgets time. Trouble is, we did that too literally yesterday, missed an entire day (don't know how). I said "only two days left" and was corrected by a chorus of "no, tomorrow's our last day!" boy, was I disappointed. Dinner at Nene in San Sepolcro, which epitomized the Italian nightlife experience: outdoor restaurant, curbside medieval walled city, sipping Limocella while 4 generations of local families stroll past, several times each way. That way you get to see the hot, the not, the cool, and the upturned collar sporters, the Maseratis and the scooters, the non-trendy tees and the never-trendy sweaters around the neck, the hotly-debated man bag (is an over the shoulder man bag more, or less manly than a man's clutch bag, and should a man be banned from Man's Club for having either?), and a million other things to gawp, gloat and gossip about.

Summary

For a country with more antiquities per capita than anywhere else on earth, Italy does a great job of preserving, presenting and co-habiting with 2,000 year old Roman, 800 year old Etruscan, and 300-500 year old Renaissance works. It's the 1-5 year old stuff that lets them down ... the newer architecture is uninspired, even drab, the roads are sub-standard, and they're still making and playing Europop!

The food is fabulous, but maybe not as fabulous as they think. The quality of what they serve is unquestionable (none of the "What! They eat that?" you get in France or pretty much anywhere in Asia), but they lack in variety. The claims that "here we serve traditional Arrezoni dishes, completely different from the Umbrian food they serve in the next county" is, in my opinion mostly marketing BS, albeit marketing BS perfected over 2,000 years. Strangely, it reminds me of that tee-shirt with the Amish guys saying "let's ride on over to the next valley and kick some Mennonite ass!" One more food fact: while truffles are wonderful (and I must've eaten a sack-full in the past 2 weeks), after a while you've just had enough damned pasta, salami and bruschetta, and you start craving all the other dishes available in most other countries but curiously absent from Italian towns. It's probably the same trying to get sushi in Shreveport, Louisiana, but I'm only generalizing.

Another potentially inappropriate association, prompted by the "you CAN have too much of a good thing" sentiment is that viral email / image from a few years ago picturing a hot model with the caption "No matter how hot she is, someone, somewhere is just sick of her sh*t".

There are no discernible traffic rules, on road or sidewalk. It wasn't until I moved to the USA that I realized the English subconsciously walk to the left, while Americans subconsciously walk to the right when passing in a corridor or on the sidewalk. Italians don't seem to have worked that out yet.

Finally, a Tuscan hilltop forest in summer is just like land that time forgot, or Jurassic Park. Whenever some scary-ass creature lands on your gently suntanning leg, another even scarier hairier monster straight out of John Carpenter's The Thing buzzes past trailing a banner that advertises "appearing tonight, in a bed near you".

Which reminds me of the true high points of the vacation:

1. Elbows resting on the edge of the infinity pool, blasting wasps with water pistols, trying to come up with more original quotes than "I'll be back" in our best Austrian knucklehead accent.

2. Spending time with Lawrence. It doesn't matter whether he's winning dominoes by a whisker, or I'm thumping him at scrabble, no sooner do we end 2 weeks together than I'm anxiously planning another week, or two, somewhere else.

RAVE - Girl With The Dragon Tattoo

From the ridiculous (She's Out Of My League) to the sublime (The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo).

This is a combo movie and book review, seeing as I read the book on vacation and saw the movie on the flight back from that vacation.

It's rare to see a Swedish movie at all, let alone one this good. And before you wave Ingmar Bergman in my face, I mean "lately, it's been rare to see a Swedish movie this good".

First of all, the book AND the movie are terrific: interesting, exciting, absorbing, convoluted, and rewarding. However, a lot of the complexity is taken out of the movie, a couple of Blomkvist's romantic entanglements were dropped (poor man), and many of his Vanger family encounters too (lucky man). These don't necessarily detract from the movie, but when you're in that unusual situation of simultaneously enjoying book and film, it can, as Shakespeare used to say, discombobulate one.

The story's pace takes some getting into - it's not for those people like my brother Lawrence, who "hates books where they dodge around from character to character every other paragraph", but otherwise it's framstående [that's the word to use if you're ever in Stockholm and want to say "outstanding"].

For those of you that care, the film is sub-titled. Despite that, it'll be hard for the English language version, starring Daniel Craig and Rooney Mara, to beat this original.

I can't find fault with either medium, and look forward to reading and seeing the rest of the trilogy.

BTW - the Dragon Tattoo itself is a minor detail, rather than an integral part of the story .. this is no Dan Brown novel.

RANT - She's Out Of My League

Hell, I don't watch this kind of mindless film! But when you're on a 10 hour flight your options are restricted.

Back down to earth with a bump, movie-wise, this is an inoffensive little film, offering absolutely no risk of strained muscles from rolling around laughing uncontrollably.

You all know the plot, so I won't cover it (and it's not worth covering anyway), but why oh why do producers pick English people to swagger on with dreadful American accents, when there are thousands of perfectly good and available American actors?

In this case, for some inexplicable reason they got Brit-cop Trevor Eve to play the hot girl's dad. It was such an unimportant role, any American could've done it.

It wasn't until the credits rolled that I realized how Trevor Eve got picked for the dad role. He IS her dad in real life ..... Alice Eve plays "hot" Molly.

I would've been disgusted if I'd been tricked into seeing this at the movies, but nodding off with it during a flight is just acceptable.

RAVE - The Disappearance of Alice Creed

Another gritty Brit kidnap crime flick (is that alliterative enough for you?).

The story starts off very slick, with a crisp and efficient grabbing of the eponymous Ms Creed, bundling her into a van, whisking her to a safe house, handcuffing her to a bed, taking proof pictures, getting rid of their "work" clothes, sending a ransom email, and keeping her hydrated.

Everything's progressing according to plan, but then things start to crack (as they have to, otherwise there wouldn't be a film).

There are only 3 characters in the film, which (when done properly) adds to the intensity. Standing out is the slimy and threatening Eddie Marsan.

The film is totally engrossing, with completely believable characters, dialog and storyline. There are more twists than a corkscrew, and I'm not going to tell you about any of them.

Review - Cemetery Junction

Who knows if this will ever get US distribution, even though it was directed by, and features Ricky Gervais.

Set in 1973, it tells the story of a son who wants out of the factory job he shares with his Dad (Gervais).

And being set in 1973, it features lots of smoking and a great soundtrack that includes T.Rex, Bowie, Northern Soul, and Led Zep.

It has a very un-Gervais-ish vibe, a very measured pace, with Ricky's character way in the background, in an understated role as the permanently be-vested Dad. There's no humor from him; he leaves that to the main characters and their sloppy friends.

There's one marvelous line, reminiscent of that time capsule comment in Hot Club Tim Machine, where trying to establish whether they have indeed traveled back in time they ask one party-goer what color Michael Jackson is. "Black, of course" was the answer, and they groaned having learned their fate.

The Cemetery Junction line? When walking in on one character listening to a Vaughan Williams LP, they tell him to "Stop listening to music made by poofs. Listen to some Elton John!"

I'm not sure if I'm pleased or saddened to know there's a real place called Cemetery Junction, near Reading, west of London.

RAVE - The Thick Of It

One of the great things about flying British Airways or (as we have just done for our trip to Italy, via the UK) Virgin Atlantic, aside from the Chicken Korma is the in-flight entertainment.

Instead of cheesy films guaranteed to put you to sleep, plus yet more episodes of Friends, 30 Rock, and [insert dull, formulaic American sitcom here], we got great comedy: Inbetweeners, Only Fools and Horses, Live At The Apollo, and proper gritty indie British movies that haven't seen the light of American day.

First of several cracking programs I saw was The Thick Of It, the wittiest and most acerbic comedy you could wish for. Set in and around Whitehall, where the UK political scene boasts some of the smartest, the stupidest, and in this case, funniest people.

Blisteringly foulmouthed, the show even employs a "swearing consultant". One of his roles is to pen the complex and creative insults used in the show. Now THERE'S something to put in your resume.

The handful of Americans that may have seen a version of it will have done so through the movie In The Loop, which is also highly recommended by this wannabe swearing consultant.

RAVE - Papito

Ignore the cruddy image ... the place looks a LOT more welcoming now that it's finally open. 

"Gourmet Burrito Restaurant" is a new classification on the food scene. In order to find out whether it's the equivalent of realtors re-naming South Central Los Angeles as South LA, or a genuine quality niche, we cut along there this evening.

"It's only 2 blocks walk" my wife says, as I reach for the car keys. The fact that it's actually 3, and they're almost vertical doesn't register as a valid complaint, so a brisk climb it was.

Papito is yet another Chez Papa venture on Potrero Hill, which explains the initial shock of hearing staff speaking French in an otherwise Mexican eatery. Perhaps "gourmet" is a little overstated, but it was definitely a cut above whatever you can get on Valencia Street.

An intimate (19 seats, inside, and a few more outside), very warm atmosphere, match the excellent tacos, burritos and quesadillo small-ish plates. Tacos are $8 for 2, and because we wanted to taste as many varieties as possible, we have 6 between the two of us. The chicken, duck confit, skirt steak, and pork were fabulous; the fish and shrimp tempura were not.

Papitos rounds out an already extensive range of great eateries on 18th St atop Potrero Hill.

RANT - Pretentious wine ordering "tips" from GQ

This collection of windbag "tips" from GQ wine columnist, Alan Richman, is so patchy one wonders how reliable is the rest of his writing.

The "15 Tips for ordering wine in a restaurant" are available here, but I also include them in order to save you time, and add my "total amateur" opinion (in italics).

1. The sommerlier pours. You sip. You hesitate. Good move. Never say yes to a wine until you're sure it's sound. Try it a second time. A third, minutes later, if you still have doubts. Like sex on a first date, you'll regret it if you're not sure.

It's sommelier, not sommerlier, so Mr. Richman doesn't proof read that well.

Second, you don't taste the wine in order to check if you like it; you check to see if it's fresh (i.e. not tainted, or 'corked'), and if it's at your required temperature. It's the same with the meal: how churlish would it be to order your food, taste it to see if you actually like it, then return it if you no longer fancy it. Probably as churlish as our tipster.

Third, what a complete ass you'd be if you made the sommelier hang around for "minutes" while you fart around and decide if you like the wine or not.

2. So much should not be asked of a waiter: Stock market tips. Medical advice. What wine to drink with your meal.

If you're not on a Richman-esque expense account, chances are you regularly eat at restaurants that don't have a formal sommelier, so asking your waiter whether s/he knows the wines well enough to make recommendations is the logical move.

3. With most wine-by-the-glass programs, restaurants try to recoup the price they paid for the bottle on the first glass they sell. Try to order a half-bottle instead. The virtue of ordering wine by the glass is that the restaurant should allow you a complimentary taste.

Riiiight, why not cut down your choices to the two wines they have by the half-bottle?

4. Here's what you do with a cork when it's presented to you: Nothing. No sniffing, please. If it has printing on it and the bottle is expensive, check to see that the information on the cork coincides with what's on the label. If not, you might have a counterfeit.

In some restaurants, the sommelier or waiter will sniff the cork to see if the wine is un-tainted. In that case, it's pretentious to re-sniff the cork yourself. If the staff does not sniff the cork, you could do so in order to give you a hint about the wine's freshness before tasting it to confirm.

And I wonder how many times our tipster has received counterfeit wine in a restaurant worthy of his time and review.

5. Save the slurping and gargling for Napa Valley tasting rooms and morning mouthwash. Try not to turn the stomachs of your guests with primitive rituals.

Funny that you'd make the sommelier wait for minutes, but draw the line at employing tasting room methods.

6. If you're ordering in advance for an important business dinner, don't forget to make certain the wines you select are in stock and available in sufficient quantities.

7. Make sure the wine you order gets to the table before the food. Wine without food is fine; food without wine is a disaster.

Ask a teetotaler or driver whether the statement: "food without wine is a disaster" is a solid opinion, or just BS. I think you already know.

8. Don't be intimidated by huge, clunky, leather (okay, naugahyde) wine lists. They're your friends. If they've been around awhile, and most have, they almost always have beautifully aged bargains hidden away.

Of course, the quality of the paper and binder have absolutely NO bearing on the wine, and neither does the picture on the wine label.

10. Decide if you love vintages or producers. Sommeliers love producers. They're met them. They dined with them. They consider them infallable, even in terrible years. I love good years, full of surprises from unknown winemakers. You get wines that taste of a moment in time, not of a high-tech cellar.

"They're met them"? Another slip in the proof reading department. The rest is a fat generalization.

11. When tasting, don't allow the server to pour so little that it barely wets your mustache. This advice applies to men and women alike. When drinking, beware of servers who fill your glass to the brim, then announce that your bottle is empty and you need another one. That's not service; that's hard-sell.

A restaurant that slips up on the "don't overfill each glass" rule is unlikely to a) warrant a GQ review or b) have wines that are worth tasting.

12. If you've been brought the wrong vintage and you accept it after a taste, you have to pay, even if you believe the restaurant has done you wrong. If the server accidentally brings a more expensive wine than the one you ordered, you should be charged the price of the bottle you requested. Warning: Not everybody agrees.

Er, reading the label before tasting might help you avoid the faux pas of accepting the wrong vintage.

13. If you call and get permission to bring your own wine to a restaurant, always ask the amount of the corkage fee. In a few Manhattan restaurants, it has soared past $100.

14. I don't care if the restaurant is pouring Chateau Latour into Minnie Mouse mugs, don't walk into a restaurant carrying your own wine glasses. It's more pretentious than wearing a monocle and spats.

I wonder why it's necessary to state this. Who on earth takes their own wine glasses to a restaurant?

15. Don't be a big shot. Nobody can get everything right when it comes to detecting problems in wine. Can you identify sulphur, volative acidity, brettanomyces, and/or T.C.A.? That's why sommeliers exist. If you hate the wine you've ordered and can't articulate why, don't be afraid to ask for help.

But whatever you do, don't phone Alan Richman :)

RAVE - Centurion

Unlikely to appeal to the Breakfast at Tiffany's crowd, but nonetheless a solid entry into the Blood 'n Guts division.

For those of you who thought that Gladiator was a nice start, and the cable series Rome, and Spartacus were good upgrades to that, Centurion is excellent, especially if you like your Bronze Age action bloody.

Set in Northern Britain, the Roman army has been stalled for 30 years by the troublesome Picts. See, you couldn't understand a word a Scot said even in 117 AD.

Guerilla tactics employed by the McShiftys disperse a Roman army, and stragglers try to leg it down south where there's central heating and decent food.

Tight action, and did it say it was BLOODY?

RAVE - The Kids Are All Right

More than just the acceptable face of chick flicks, this was genuinely heartfelt and moving.

Annette Bening and Julianne Moore are basking in their lesbian marriage, with a Daughter and Son be-sprogged by Mark Ruffalo's deposits at a sperm bank.

The kids want to meet up with their biological pops, and merriment, travails and tears ensue.

There are several stories going on here. One is about Bening's and Moore's relationship. One is about Ruffalo's bohemian lifestyle and loves. Another is about the daughter's imminent move to college. They all come together to make a great family story and there, I've gone and done it. I've written a "nice" review devoid of innuendo and sarcasm.

The film deserves that.

By the way, don't take your mum to see it. Julianne Moore gets her kit off yet again, and works it!

REVIEW - Hot Tub Time Machine

I know I'm a few weeks late getting to see this film, and I don't normally bother to review films on cable - even Pay Per View, but ..... there are far too few movies about time travel, and this one's a great excuse to play some great 80s tunes.

Having said that, what on earth is John Cusack thinking of? Surely there are lesser actors better suited to delivering fart jokes and generally slopping around in a post Animal House vein.

And unfortunately, the 2 best jokes are in the trailer. 

The somewhat surreal, "it must be some kind of hot tub time machine" is trumped only by the line, when the guys realize that traveling back 30 years leaves them in a position to invest in ideas they already know work, "we could combine Twitter and Viagra: Twittagra!"

As Frankie Howard used to say "quite titterful".

RAVE - Ozone Thai

I'm being a little generous in giving Ozone a RAVE, not because it wasn't a great meal, in a great space (the old Jack Falstaff on 2nd Street), but because most Thai restaurants serve the same basic dishes and flavors, and they're nearly always great.

They're also nearly always as good when grabbed as take-out, and I'm sure Ozone will be used for that by us in future.

The Tom Yum soup, spring rolls, crispy tofu, shrimp rolls, fish cake, shrimp satay and delicious sauces got the evening off to a perfect start, and then it was a trough full of those other Thai staples: Chicken Pad Thai Woon Sen, Beef with Broccoli, Green Curry, and so on.

Faultless, but an unexceptional victim of the uniform excellence of Thai food.