LONDON TO SKYE AND BACK
“WELL,” SAYS OUR WAITER, WHO LOOKS LIKE A RUGBY PLAYER BUT FOR THE TARTAN KILT, “YOU’VE GOT THE BRUEGEL.”
AND THERE IT IS, DWARFING LYNN AND ALBYN, WHO OCCUPY THE BANQUETTE BENEATH THE YOUNGER’S DEPICTION OF A FLEMISH VILLAGE, TEEMING WITH FIGURES INDULGING THEIR PASSIONS, FOLLIES AND VICES. IN BETWEEN BITES OF FAT ASPARAGUS WITH STRAW MUSHROOMS STREAKED WITH PESTO AND A CHARGRILLED FILLET OF JOHN DORY, I SPENT MOST OF THIS EXCELLENT MEAL EXAMINING THE BRUEGEL. WE ARE IN THE FIFE ARMS IN BRAEMAR, ABERDEENSHIRE, SCOTLAND. WE’VE ALREADY SEEN THE PICASSO, THE LUCIEN FREUD AND THE MAN RAY PHOTOGRAPHS IN THE BAR. THIS MODERN GOTHIC HOTEL, WHERE EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK IS A WORK BY AN ARTIST YOU RECOGNIZE OR SHOULD IS OWNED BY MANUELA HAUSER AND IRIN WIRTH; YES, THE VERY SAME HAUSER&WIRTH WITH GALLERIES IN NEW YORK, LOS ANGELES, AND A MYRIAD OF CAPITALS AROUND THE WORLD.
WE ARE HALFWAY THROUGH A JOURNEY WHICH TOOK US TO LONDON, THEN EDINBURGH, GLASGOW, THE SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS, ABERDEEN, DUNDEE, AND LOCH NESS. WE TRAVEL FOR FOOD AND ART; RARELY FOR STORIED VISTAS. I HOPE TO SEE THE GRAND CANYON AND NIAGARA FALLS BEFORE I DIE BUT ONLY IF WE CAN GET A DECENT MEAL WITHIN SPITTING DISTANCE OF THE SOUTH RIM. BUT THE ISLE OF SKYE, THE LOWLAND PASTURES AND THE LOCHS MADE ME EAT MY WORDS. THIS IS NOT TO SAY WE SUFFERED IN THE FOOD DEPARTMENT. ALBYN, LYNN’S DAUGHTER WHOM I CONSIDER MY OWN, HAS LIVED IN LONDON FOR ALMOST 40 YEARS AND HAS THE ACCENT TO PROVE IT. SHE AND HER FRIEND BILL, WHO WENT TO UNIVERSITY IN ABERDEEN, PUT TOGETHER A NEARLY FLAWLESS ITINERARY. EQUALLY IMPORTANT, ALBYN KNOWS HOW TO DRIVE ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD.
AFTER A WEEK IN LONDON AT OUR BELOVED ZETTER MARLEYBONE ON SEYMOUR STREET, WE TOOK THE TRAIN TO EDINBURGH. THREE DAYS THERE, THREE DAYS IN GLASGOW, THEN FOR THE NEXT NINE DAYS, DROVE NORTH TO FORT WILLIAM, ACROSS THE SKYE BRIDGE TO THE THREE CHIMNEYS IN DUNVEGAN, WEST TO PORTREE, EAST TO PENNAN, SOUTHWEST THROUGH INVERNESS TO FOYER’S LODGE ON LOCH NESS, EAST TO DUNDEE AND A MICHELIN 2-STAR IN AUCHTERARDER (WITH ME SO FAR?) AND, FINALLY, BACK TO LONDON. FIVE DAYS IN LONDON FOR MORE ART, MORE FOOD AND MORE BAD THEATRE.
IF THEY ASKED ME, I COULD WRITE A BOOK, BUT I’LL SPARE YOU THAT. SO, JUST INDULGE ME FOR A BIT, AND I’LL COVER THE HIGHLIGHTS. HERE GOES…
ON PAST VACATIONS LONDON HAS BEEN A WAY-STATION WHERE WE VISIT WITH ALBYN, HER FRIENDS AND MY SISTER ANNIE, HER HUSBAND STEVE AND MY NIECE MADELEINE, EN ROUTE TO THE CONTINENT. BUT THIS TIME WE BOOKENDED OUR SCOTLAND JAUNT WITH A TOTAL OF NEARLY TWO WEEKS IN THIS VAST AND WONDERFUL CITY.
FOR THE THIRD TIME, WE BOOKED OUR FAVORITE ROOM 12 AT THE ZETTER MARLEYBONE, WHERE WE ARE WELCOMED LIKE FAMILY. ANNIE, WHO STAYED A FEW DAYS HERE HERSELF, DISPARAGED THE HOTEL AS BEING “A BIT ‘FAULTY TOWERS'”, WHICH IS WHY WE LOVE IT. YES, YOUR POACHED EGG MAY NOT ARRIVE ALONG WITH YOUR STREAKY BACON. THE CHAIRS ARE TOO LOW OR TOO HIGH FOR THE TABLES. BUT HOW MANY BOUTIQUE HOTELS HAVE BEEN CURATED WITH SO MUCH ECCENTRIC CARE? BAD 18TH CENTURY PORTRAITS, TEA CUPS AND BRIC-A-BRAC FESTOON THE BAR AND DINING ROOM. THE LIFT IS WALL-PAPERED WITH ADS FROM PUNCH. THERE’S A NON-WORKING GRAMOPHONE IN OUR ROOM AND YOU MUST REMIND HOUSEKEEPING THAT YOU’D LIKE YOUR ROOM MADE UP. STILL, THE ZETTER IS A STONE’S THROW FROM MARBLE ARCH AND SERVES ONE OF THE BEST CREAM TEAS IN LONDON.
WITH TIME TO SPARE, WE COULD DECOMPRESS AND ENJOY THE CITY AT LEISURE. WHEN WE VISIT THE NATIONAL GALLERY, WE HEAD FOR THE SAINTSBURY WING TO SEE THE CRANACHS, THE CARAVAGGIOS, THE REMBRANDTS AND THE HOLBEINS. WE’D NEVER SEEN THE IMPRESSIONIST COLLECTION WHICH, SURPRISE, SURPRISE, INCLUDES STUNNING DEGAS, MANETS, MONETS, VAN GOGHS, CÉZANNES, AND ROUSSEAUS. EVER HEARD OF WRIGHT OF DERBY? NO? NEITHER HAD WE. CLEARLY INFLUENCED BY CARAVAGGIO, WRIGHT PAINTED DOMESTIC/SCIENTIFIC SCENES WITH A SINGLE LIGHT SOURCE. UNQUESTIONABLY SKILLFUL, THESE PICTURES ARE BOTH IMPRESSIVE AND MUNDANE, AS IF CARAVAGGIO HAD CHOSEN TO PAINT SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENTS OR BOYS FIGHTING RATHER THAN THE LIVES OF THE SAINTS. THERE WAS A SPECIAL EXHIBITION OF ZUBURAN, VÉLAZQUEZ’S CONTEMPORARY, BUT HARDLY HIS EQUAL. HE WAS INTENSELY DEVOUT WITH A PARADE OF CRUCIFIXIONS, DEPOSITIONS AND RESURRECTIONS. BUT TO ME, THE PAINTINGS ARE WITHOUT IRONY OR REAL DRAMA. CALL ME A PHILLISTINE. BUT I WILL ALWAYS PREFER ZUBURAN’S INCANDESCENT STILL LIFES.
THE HAYWARD IN SOUTH BANK CONSISTENTLY MOUNTS SOME OF THE MOST PLEASING AND PROVOCATIVE SHOWS IN THIS ART-FILLED CITY. YIN XIUZHEN IS A CHINESE ARTIST WHO LOVES TO SEW. SNAKING AROUND A FAKE AIRPORT BAGGAGE CONVEYOR BELT ARE OPEN SUITCASES, EACH PACKED WITH STUFFED SKYSCRAPERS, PAGODAS, THE EIFFEL TOWER, THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING– FAMOUS LANDMARKS WHICH IDENTIFY THE GREAT CITIES OF THE WORLD. A GIANT STUFFED JETLINER HANGS FROM THE CEILING. CHIHARU SHIOTA, EQUALLY OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE, SPINS WEBLIKE ENVIRONMENTS OUT OF TWINE. A HOSPITAL WARD, BEDS LINED UPON IN NEAT ROWS, SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN INFESTED WITH SPIDERS WEAVING A THREE-DIMENSIONAL MESH OF BLACK FILAMENT. BOTH EXHIBITIONS WERE LABOR-INTENSIVE, TO SAY THE LEAST. YIN XIUZHEN’S MADE ME SMILE. CHIHARU SHIOTA’S ARE ALTERNATIVELY WOMBLIKE OR CREEPY. I KEPT THINKING, HOW LONG DID IT TAKE AND HOW MANY STRINGERS TO STRING THE STRING?
THE COLLECTIONS IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM, LIKE THE VICTORIA ALBERT, THE LOUVRE AND THE PERGAMON IN BERLIN, ARE THE LOOT OF EMPIRES. WE HAD GONE TO SEE A SAMURAI SHOW, BUT WE COULDN’T GET IN TILL FOUR, SO WE KILLED AN HOUR WITH THE ELGIN MARBLES. LORD ELGIN STOLE THEM FROM THE ACROPOLIS. THE TURKS HAD USED THE PARTHENON AS AN AMMUNITION DUMP, WHICH BLEW UP ALONG WITH ENOUGH OF THE GLORIES THAT WERE GREECE TO JUSTIFY THE THEFT. WHEN YOU SEE THESE SCULPTURES AND BAS-RELIEFS, YOU CAN’T HELP BUT MARVEL HOW THEIR ARTISTRY– PERFECTLY-PROPORTIONED FIGURES, SENSUALLY CLINGING DRAPERY, REARING HORSES (AND CENTAURS) WAS LOST THROUGHOUT THE DARK AGES, ONLY TO BE REDISCOVERED IN THE RENAISSANCE.
AFTER THE ELGIN MARBLES, THE SAMURAI SHOW WAS A BIT DISAPPOINTING. THOSE FANTASTICAL HELMETS, ADORNED WITH BAT WINGS, SCIMITARS, PREYING MANTISES, AND RAPTORS; THE GLEAMING MENACE OF THE KATANAS; THE MASTERFUL PRINTS BY HOKUSAI ARE ALWAYS BREATHTAKING. BUT THE LOW LIGHT TO PROTECT THE PAINTED SCREENS, DEPICTING ROYAL AND DOMESTIC SCENES MADE THEM HARD TO SEE AND I DIDN’T THINK THEY’D LIKE IT IF I USED MY iPHONE FLASHLIGHT.
PHIDIAS, POLYKLEITOS AND PRAXITELES MIGHT HAVE BLUSHED AT THE LUCIEN FREUD EXHIBITION AT THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY. ALONG WITH FRANCIS BACON, FREUD, WHO DIED AT 88 IN 2011, RE-DEFINED PORTRAITURE. AND WHEREAS BACON’S PORTRAITS ARE DISTORTED AND PSYCHOLOGICALLY UNNERVING, FREUD’S ARE HIGHLY RECOGNIZABLE PICTURES OF HIS FRIENDS AND FAMILY AS WELL AS IN-YOUR-FACE NUDES, BOTH MALE AND FEMALE; SOME OBESE, SOME ALARMINGLY EXHIBITIONISTIC. IT WAS A GOOD WAY TO WORK UP AN APPETITE FOR AN EXCELLENT LUNCH WITH CONSTANCE AND SAM AT PORTRAIT.
.
THEATRE IS ANOTHER GOOD REASON TO COME TO LONDON. WITH BROADWAY TICKET PRICES IN THE STRATOSPHERE, I’VE DESPAIRED AT SPENDING $400 FOR A SEAT AT ANYTHING WHICH ISN’T ABOUT TO CLOSE. THE BRITISH SUBSIDIZE THE ARTS, SO EVEN FOR A HIT LIKE LES LIASONS DANGEREUSES AT THE NATIONAL STARRING THE INCOMPARABLE LESLIE MANVILLE, THE BEST SEAT IN THE HOUSE IS AROUND $175. BUT AFTER SITTING THROUGH THE FIRST ACT OF THIS OVERBLOWN PRODUCTION, I MIGHT HAVE DEMURRED. DAVID HARE’S GRACE PERVADES, ABOUT HENRY IRVING AND ELLEN TERRY, TWO OF THE GREAT VICTORIAN ACTORS, WAS WONDERFULLY ACTED BY RALPH FIENNES AND MIRANDA RAISON AND INTELLIGENTLY DIRECTED BY JEREMY HERRIN. BUT HARE IS AN ISSUE PLAYWRIGHT AND THIS PLAY IS ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS. TERRY’S CHILDREN, EDITH AND DAVID GORDON CRAIG, REBELLED AGAINST THEIR MOTHER AND THE MANNERED, STILTED THEATRE IN WHICH SHE THRIVED. WHY WAS THERE NEVER A CONFRONTATION BETWEEN PARENT AND CHILD? INSTEAD, EDITH AND CRAIG ADDRESS THE AUDIENCE. VERY CIVILIZED. IT LEFT ME COLD. I CAN’T SAY THE SAME OF DIRECTOR CLINT DYER’S REVIVAL OF ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST, WHICH WE SAW WHEN WE CAME BACK TO LONDON. ALL THE SEATS HAD BEEN RIPPED OUT TO CREATE A THEATRE IN THE ROUND. EXCEPT FOR NURSE RATCHED AND THE PSYCHIATRIST, THE CAST ARE ALL AFRICAN-AMERICANS, WHCH IS APPROPRIATE, SINCE AROUND 80% OF THE PATIENTS IN PUBLIC MENTAL INSTITUTIONS ARE BLACK. PERHAPS IT’S UNFAIR TO COMPARE AARON PIERRE’S McMURPHY TO JACK NICHOLSON’S, BUT WHERE NICHOLSON WAS CHARMING AND MISCHIEVOUS, PIERRE IS BUFF, MACHO AND DOMINEERING. WE LEFT AFTER THE FIRST ACT.
THE ONE BRIGHT SPOT IN THIS BLEAK THEATRICAL LANDSCAPE WAS THE REVIVAL OF THE HOLY ROSENBERGS BY RYAN CRAIG AT THE MENIER CHOCOLATE FACTORY. THIS TOO IS AN ISSUE PLAY– ISRAEL’S INVASION OF GAZA. IT WAS FIRST MOUNTED AT THE NATIONAL IN 2011. A JEWISH FAMILY IN NORTH LONDON HAS LOST THEIR SON DAN WHO’S JOINED THE IDF AND BEEN KILLED IN ACTION. THE ROSENBERG’S RABBI URGES DAN’S FATHER TO DISCOURAGE HIS DAUGHTER RUTH FROM DELIVERING THE EULOGY AT HER BROTHER’S MEMORIAL BECAUSE SHE IS A HUMAN RIGHTS LAWYER WHO’S BEEN INVESTIGATING ISRAELI WAR CRIMES. EVERY CHARACTER IN CRAIG’S PLAY IS PERSONALLY INVESTED IN THE ISSUE. LINDSAY POSNER DIRECTS AN IMPECCABLE CAST IN THIS POWERFUL AND MOVING PRODUCTION
BUT YOU’RE PROBABLY TAPPING YOUR FOOT WITH CROSSED ARMS, THINKING “YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, BUT WHERE DID YOU EAT?!
GREAT BRITAIN HAS LONG AGO SHED ITS IMAGE AS THE COUNTRY WHERE FOOD CAME TO DIE. LONDON’S DINING SCENE IS AS VIBRANT AND VARIED AS NEW YORK OR LOS ANGELES. ALTHOUGH ONLY THE BRITISH COULD HAVE COME UP WITH A WORD AS UNAPPETIZING AS GASTROPUB. PUBS LIKE THE BULL AND LAST AND PARAKEET IN KENTISH TOWN ARE SERVING SKATE AND SQUAB AND ISLE FLOTTANTE, NOT TOAD-IN-THE-HOLE, SPOTTED DICK OR PICKLED EGGS. AND LIKE NEW YORK OR LOS ANGELES, THERE IS A PLETHORA OF INTERNATIONAL CUISINES TO CHOOSE FROM. THERE’VE ALWAYS BEEN PLENTY OF INDIAN, ITALIAN AND FRENCH PLACES, BUT SPAIN, PORTUGAL, VIETNAM, UKRAINE, AND BRAZIL HAVE BEEN ADDED TO THE MENU.
WEARY BUT RAVENOUS FROM A TEN-HOUR, WE RETURNED TO LURRA, A BASQUE GRILL ON SEYMOUR PLACE, A TEN-MINUTE WALK FROM THE ZETTER. LURRA IS PACKED AT NIGHT, THE NOISE LEVEL, PUNISHING. LUNCH IS MORE TRANQUIL. LYNN, WHO NEVER MET A JAMON IBERICO SHE DIDN’T LIKE, ORDERED A PLATTER OF THIS MAHOGANY-HUED, HAND-SLICED DELICACY. I RESISTED THE IRRESISTIBLE GRILLED OCTOPUS IN FAVOR OF MARROW BONES, GRILLED ARTICHOKES AND GRILLED PEPPERS. I WISH WE’D HAD ROOM FOR THEIR WHOLE, GRILLED TURBOT. WE SOOTHED OURSELVES WITH A SLICE OF BASQUE CHEESECAKE.
ALBYN WAS MOST EAGER FOR US TO MEET HER NEW BEST FRIEND LUKE, SO WE TOOK THEM TO DINNER AT JOSEPHINE IN MARLEYBONE (THERE’S ANOTHER JOSEPHINE IN CHELSEA). THIS IS A VERY PRETTY BISTRO; MIRRORED WALLS HUNG WITH FRENCHIE PHOTOS, DRAWINGS, FIN-DE-SIÈCLE POSTERS, AND ADS TO CONVINCE YOU YOU’RE IN PARIS. IT REMINDED ME OF BENOÎT, BOTH THE AMBIENCE AND THE FOOD, WHICH WAS EQUALLY GOOD. MY FISH SOUP WAS WAS AS INTENSE AND FLAVORFUL AS DARK CHOCOLATE; A WHOLE LAPIN À LA MOUTARDE, WHICH I SHARED WITH LYNN, MOIST AND TENDER. ALBYN AND LUKE SEEMED EQUALLY PLEASED WITH A COUNTRY PATÉ AND BLANQUETTE DE VEAU. PERFECT FLOATING ISLAND AND A FLINTY RIESLING FROM THE MOSEL.
SPRING, WHERE WE MET OUR FRIENDS JEMMA AND MARCEL (SHE’S A PLAYWRIGHT; HE’S AN ARCHITECT), IS SITUATED IN THE ROTHSCHILD WING OF SOMERSET HOUSE, WHICH ALSO HOUSES THE COURTAULD GALLERY. THIS WAS CONVENIENT SINCE THERE WAS A SEURAT SHOW WE WANTED TO SEE, IN ADDITION TO THE COURTAULD’S IMPECCABLE IMPRESSIONIST COLLECTION.
WITH ITS PALE GREY WALLS, HIGH CEILINGS AND IONIC COLUMNS; ARCHED WINDOWS AND BUBBLE CHANDELIERS, SPRING IS CERTAINLY A MOST DAZZLING SPACE. SKYE GYNGELL‘S SEASONAL, INGREDIENT-DRIVEN MENU MANAGES TO BE AS SURPRISING AS IT IS COMFORTING. CORNISH CRAB BRUSCHETTA CAME STUDDED WITH BLACK OLIVES, PARSLEY AND FENNEL. MY MUSSELS SWAM IN SAFRON-SCENTED NAGE DOTTED WITH CHIVE OIL. JEMMA AND MARCEL OPTED FOR THE “SCRATCH” MENU– A PRIX FIXE MADE FROM YESTERDAY’S LEFTOVER INGREDIENTS. NOBLE AND DELICIOUS.
WHAT DO YOU CALL THE RESTAURANT ATOP THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY? THOUGH NOT AS GORGEOUS AS SPRING, PORTRAIT COMMANDS A PANORAMIC VIEW OF LONDON, WHICH CONSTANCE AND SAM GENEROUSLY INSISTED WE FACE. RICHARD CORRIGAN‘S FOOD WAS WELL-EXECUTED BUT NOT PARTICULARLY MEMORABLE, WHICH IS PROBABLY WHY THE ONLY DISH I CAN REMEMBER WAS OUR STEAMED DOVER SOLE WITH LEMON BUERRE BLANC.
OUR LAST DINNER BEFORE HEADING NORTH TO EDINBURGH WAS A FAMILY AFFAIR AT ONE OF THE HOTTEST SPOTS IN LONDON. THE FAT BADGER IN NOTTING HILL OCCUPIES THE TOP FLOOR, ABOVE THE CANTEEN, ABOVE THE SECOND STORY BAR. THE DINING ROOM IS RIGHT OUT OF DICKENS. AN ATTRACTIVE YOUNG CREW FITTED WITH HEADSETS GUIDES YOU TO YOUR TABLE, IN OUR CASE, A TABLE FOR SEVEN IN A SEMI-PRIVATE ROOM, OPEN TO THE MAIN DINING ROOM. WITH THE EXCEPTION OF A SWEETBREAD TACO, THE PRIX-FIXE MENU CONSISTS OF STANDARD DISHES, MADE FROM LOCALLY-SOURCED PRODUCE, FISH, POULTRY AND MEAT, PREPARED WITH EXCEPTIONAL PRECISION. A BASKET OF CRISP-CRUSTED SODA BREAD AND CULTURED BUTTER WAS A BELLWETHER FOR A PLATTER OF ROASTED TURBOT, SCALLOPS, CLAMS, AND PRAWNS. MAGRET WAS PINK AND TENDER. HASSELBACK POTATOES, FLAVORFUL GREENS, A SALAD… TOO MUCH OF MANY GOOD THINGS TO EAT IT ALL. IT WAS THE PERFECT SENDOFF.
WE CAME HOME, PACKED OUR BAGS, SET OUR CLOCKS FOR THE CRACK OF DAWN, WHEN WE HEADED FOR KING’S CROSS STATION. THERE, WE RENDEZVOUSED WITH ALBYN AND BOARDED THE TRAIN BOUND FOR EDINBURGH.
SCOTLAND
EDINGBURGH AND GLASGOW
SEPARATED BY A MERE FORTY-MINUTE TRAIN RIDE, EDINBURGH AND GLASGOW ARE VERY DIFFERENT CITIES. EDINBURGH IS A CITY OF HILLS, OF PALE STONE BUILDINGS, THE SEAT OF GOVERNMENT, A FINANCIAL CENTER SECOND ONLY TO LONDON’S, THE ANNUAL VENUE FOR THE CHURCH OF SCOTLAND AND A WORLD-RENOWNED THEATRE FESTIVAL. EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY WAS FOUNDED IN 1582 AND HAS BEEN HIGHLY REGARDED AS A CENTER FOR LEARNING EVER SINCE. GLASGOW IS MORE POPULOUS WITH AROUND 632,000 PEOPLE, 100,000 MORE THAN EDINBURGH. IT FEELS ROUGHER, TOO. MORE NEW YORK THAN BOSTON. REDSTONE BUILDINGS RATHER THAN SANDSTONE. EACH CITY HAS A FIRST CLASS ART MUSEUM, LIVELY RESTAURANT AND MUSIC SCENES AND RESIDENTS WHO ARE NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE TO UNDERSTAND.
IF WE HADN’T BUMPED INTO BRAD SHELTON AT THE INTERVAL FOR LES LIASONS DANGEREUSES, THE JOHNNIE WALKER EXPERIENCE IS THE LAST PLACE I WOULD HAVE FOUND MYSELF IN EDINBURGH. BRAD’S COMPANY TRAVELS THE GLOBE, DESIGNING PROJECTS SUCH AS AN AMUSEMENT PARK IN DUBAI OR A SHOPPING CENTER IN KUALA LUMPAR. THE JOHNNIE WALKER EXPERIENCE COMMANDEERED A DESERTED DEPARTMENT STORE AND CONVERTED IT TO A MULTI-FLOOR TOUR, WHICH BEGINS WITH YOUR FLAVOR PROFILE AND CULMINATES IN A TASTING OF JOHNNIE WALKER WHISKIES. IN BETWEEN, A SPIRITED GUIDE (ORIGINALLY FROM SAN DIEGO) LEADS YOU FROM FLOOR TO FLOOR AND ROOM TO ROOM WHERE YOU LEARN THE HISTORY OF THE JOHNNIE WALKER CLAN, HOW THEY MAKE AND BLEND THEIR WHISKIES, WHAT DETERMINES FLAVOR AND, FINALLY, A CHANCE TO SAMPLE TWO DRAMS OF VARIOUS BLENDS FROM NEARLY A HUNDRED BOTTLES. I TASTED ONE WHICH WAS 147 PROOF! THE DAZZLING L.E.D. DISPLAYS WHICH FLICKER ACROSS WALLS AND TABLES WERE SPECTACULAR; OUR GUIDE, IRONIC BUT INFORMATIVE. AS THE MICHELIN SAYS, “WORTH A SIDE TRIP.
OUR HOTEL, THE OLD TOWN CHAMBERS IS LOCATED ON THE ROYAL MILE, WHICH RUNS THROUGH THE ORIGINAL WALLED TOWN. CENTRALLY SITUATED, DIRECTLY ACROSS FROM ST. GILES CATHEDRAL; CALLED A “CATHEDRAL” BECAUSE IN 1124 THERE WERE NO PROTESTANTS, MUCH LESS PRESBYTERIANS, ANYWHERE, JUST CATHOLICS. DAMAGED BY FIRE, REBUILT AND FINALLY COMPLETED IN THE 15TH CENTURY, ST. GILES WAS RE-CONSECRATED FOR THE CHURCH OF SCOTLAND— PRESBYTERIANS. WE WANDERED ITS SOARING, VAULTED GOTHIC INTERIOR, SERENADED BY A STRING OCTET PLAYING VIVALDI.
ACCORDING TO ITS WEBSITE, THE SCOTTISH NATIONAL GALLERY HOUSES 104,742 ARTWORKS, INCLUDING PAINTINGS, DRAWINGS, SCULPTURE, AND PHOTOGRAPHS. WE ONLY MADE IT THROUGH ONE FLOOR, DISPLAYING 16TH-19TH CENTURY ART. WHERE THERE WERE A LOT OF UNINSPIRING PICTURES. IF WE’D BEEN MORE CIRCUMSPECT, WE WOULDN’T HAVE SKIPPED THE IMPRESSIONISTS. STILL, IT WAS WORTH GOING IF ONLY FOR THE REMBRANDTS, A LATE SELF-PORTRAIT AND A NAKED LADY PEERING FROM HER BED, ENTITLED SARAH AWAITING TOBIAS, WHICH WAS PROBABLY REMBRANDT’S HOUSEKEEPER AWAITING REMBRANDT. AND LET’S NOT FORGET THE RAPHAEL MADONNA AND CHILD, THE SARGENT, THE BOTTICELLI, OR MY FAVORITE GREUZE, GIRL WITH A DEAD CANARY.
AS A FAIR DIVISION OF LABOR, I’D LEFT MOST OF THE RESTAURANT CHOICES UP TO BILL, ALBYN AND BILL’S BROTHER PAUL. I HANDLED THE CITIES. TOM AND MICHAELA KITCHIN’S KITCHIN IN LEITH HAS A MICHELIN STAR, BUT THEIR TWO BIB GOURMANDS ARE IN EDINBURGH. I BOOKED BOTH.
SCRAN AND SCALLIE (SCRAN IS LIKE GRUB; SCALLIE, A RASCAL) IS A GASTROPUB WHICH FEELS LIKE A NEIGHBORHOOD JOINT. RELAXED, FRIENDLY, WITH INTERESTING TURNS ON FAMILIAR SCOTTISH DISHES. A PÁTÉ EN CROUTE HAD A VEIN OF CRANBERRIES ON A PLATE SURROUNDED BY GREEN APPLE CUBES AND STRAW MUSHROOMS. A BED OF FREGOLA SARDA AND PESTO SERVED AS A PILLOW FOR ROASTED COD.
TIPO, AN AIRY, SECOND-FLOOR TRATTORIA WITH A MODERNIST DECOR, SERVES EXCELLENT NORTHERN ITALIAN DISHES WITH SOME SCOTTISH TWISTS. MY SWORDFISH CARPACCIO WAS DOTTED WITH CHERRY TOMATOES, THIN RIBBONS OF SHAVED FENNEL AND OPAL BASIL. LYNN FOUND HER CACIO E PEPE A LITTLE TOO PEPE, I THOUGHT IT WAS PERFECT, BUT STUCK HAPPILY TO MY RISOTTO MILANESE WITH BEEF CHEEKS.
“IF MUSIC BE THE FOOD OF LOVE, PLAY ON,” THAT PRE-EMINENT SCOTTISH PLAYWRIGHT AND POET ONCE WROTE. WITH THAT IN MIND, WE WENT LOOKING FOR “SESSIONS”, SCOTCH/GAELIC FOR JAM SESSIONS. MUSICIANS OF EVERY STRIPE COME TO PUBS AND PLAY, NOT FOR MONEY BUT BECAUSE THEY WISH TO BE HEARD. WE WANDERED INTO THE GEORGE IV, WHERE THREE OF OUR CONTEMPORARIES WERE PLAYING ’80S COVER SONGS WHILE AN ENTHUSIASTIC CROWD TURNED THE SESSION INTO A SINGALONG. THE NEXT NIGHT, ALBYN LED US BACK TO THE ROYAL OAK, A PUB AS COZY AS YOUR LIVING ROOM, TO LISTEN TO ALISDAIR DOW, A DREAMY SINGER WITH AN ACOUSTIC GUITAR, A LOVELY VOICE AND HAIRY ARMS, PLAYING HIS OWN FOLK-ROCK COMPOSITIONS, WHICH WHICH WEREN’T QUITE JAMES TAYLOR, BUT CLOSE ENOUGH.
FOR OUR LAST MEAL IN EDINBURGH, I’D BOOKED A TABLE AT BADGER&CO. (WHAT IS IT WITH BRITS AND BADGERS, YOU MAY BE WONDERING). THIS PARTICULAR BADGER WAS CREATED BY KENNETH GRAHAM FOR THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS, ALONG WITH HIS FRIENDS MOLE, RAT AND MISTER TOAD, WHICH ARE EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK IN THIS OTHERWISE UPSCALE, ELEGANT RESTAURANT WITH GOOD FOOD AND GRACIOUS SERVICE. MY DIVER SCALLOP WAS THE BEST I’D HAD. LYNN’S VENISON CARPACCIO, ITS SANGUINARY RED DRAPED ACROSS THE PLATE, WAS SCATTERED WITH CURRANTS, FLAKES OF PARMESAN, CRÊME FRAÎCHE AND GRAINY MUSTARD. ALBYN’S CHICKEN BREAST WAS ENORMOUS BUT DRY, WHICH COMPELLED HER TO DOWN GLASS AFTER GLASS OF AN EXCELLENT RIOJA.
EXPLORING EUROPE OR GREAT BRITAIN WHERE DISTANCES ARE RELATIVELY SHORT, TRAVELING BY TRAIN IS THE WAY TO GO. OUR FRIEND BETTE FINALLY TAUGHT LYNN TO TRAVEL LIGHT. ONE CARRY-ON BAG. PICK A COUPLE OF COLORS. NO MORE THAN THREE PAIRS OF SHOES. DOWNSIZE POTIONS, PILLS AND LOTIONS.
GLASGOW AND EDINBURGH ARE HISTORICAL RIVALS, COMPETING LESS FOR POWER THAN INTELLECTUALLY AND ARTISTICALLY. EDINBURGH BOASTS JOHN KNOX, DAVED HUME, HENRY RAEBURN, AND ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON; GLASGOW, FRANCIS HUTCHESON, ADAM SMITH, JAMES WATT, AND THE GLASGOW BOYS. BOTH WERE, ARE, NOTABLE CENTERS OF LEARNING. BUT IN MY BOOK, GLASGOW WINS WITH THE ARCHITECT/DESIGNER TEAM OF CHARLIES RENNIE MACKINTOSH AND HIS WIFE AND PARTNER, MARGARET MACDONALD MACKINTOSH.
WHEN TRAVELING TO FOREIGN CITIES, WE MAKE A SPECIAL EFFORT TO MIX WITH THE NATIVES AND FORTUNATELY FOR US, ALBYN KNOWS FRIENDLY NATIVES IN EVERY PORT. IN FACT, ALBYN HAS MORE FRIENDS THAN I’LL EVER HAVE IN A LIFETIME, ALIVE AND DEAD. WHEN WE CELEBRATED HER 50TH, I COOKED FOR FIFTY OF THEM FOR THREE DAYS IN KENT. AMONG THEM WAS THERÈSE, A NATIVE GLASWEGIAN. SHE IS AN ACTRESS; HER HUSBAND PAUL DOES SOMETHING IN TECH AND SWIMS. WE HAD LOTS OF LAUGHS AND EVEN MORE FOOD WHEN WE MET THEM AT THE OX&FINCH. A HANDSOME GASTROPUB WITH HIGH CEILINGS, COMFORTABLE BOOTHS AND A NICE WINE LIST. LIKE SO MANY RESTAURANTS THESE DAYS, WHERE THE MENUS ARE INGREDIENT-DRIVEN AND SEASONAL WITH INFLUENCES FROM THE MIDDLE EAST AND FAR EAST. WORDS LIKE ZHOUG, DUKKAH, FURIKAKE, MORCILLA, DATTERINI, AND KATSUOBUSHI APPEAR AS MODIFIERS TO SKATE WING, PORK LOIN, HADDOCK, AND CONFIT OF LAMB SHOULDER. LYNN ASKED IF THE KITCHEN COULD JUST MAKE SKATE WITH A BUERRE NOIR, WHICH WON THE DISH-OF-THE-NIGHT AWARD. WHEN ALBYN’S PORK LOIN FAILED TO ARRIVE WITH THE OTHER ENTREES, THE WAITER, EMBARRASSED, SENT HER THE LAMB, WHICH WAS MOIST, DELICIOUS. AND SCENTED WITH CUMIN. THEN, THE PORK TURNED UP AND WE ATE THAT, TOO.
MARGARET AND RENNIE MACKINTOSH’S MARRIAGE WAS BLESSED WITH A SHARED ARTISTIC SENSIBILITY. THEIR DESIGNS BRIDGED TWO CENTURIES, EMBRACING THE SENSUAL CURVES OF ART NOUVEAU WHILE REBELLING AGAINST THE VICTORIAN EXCESSES OF THE GUILDED AGE. WHEN THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW RECLAIMED THE LAND WHERE THEY’D BUILT THEIR HOUSE, IT WAS METICULOUSLY DISMANTLED AND RE-ASSEMBLED IN A HOUSE ADJACENT TO THE ART MUSEM, BUILT EXPRESSLY FOR THAT PURPOSE. EVERY ROOM, EVERY CHAIR, WINDOW, BED FRAME, ARMOIRE, AND LAMP ARE MACKINTOSH. THE ROOMS AND FURNITURE ARE ALL PAINTED A WARM WHITE. I COULD HAPPILY LIVE IN A MACKINTOSH HOUSE.
BEN NEVIS IS THE HIGHEST PEAK IN GREAT BRITAIN AND A RATHER CLASSY PUB IN GLASGOW WHERE WE WENT IN LIEU OF DINNER IN SEARCH OF A SESSION. WE LUCKED OUT WITH A FABULOUS QUINTET (TWO FIDDLES, KEYBOARD, GUITAR, AND SCOTTISH BAGPIPE [ONE PIPE]) PLAYING TRADITIONAL SCOTTISH REELS, JIGS AND WALTZES. ALL YOUNG MUSICIANS AND ALL GREAT. ALBYN NEVER SAT DOWN. I WATCHED HER STAMPING HER FOOT IN TIME TO THE MUSIC FOR AN HOUR, WHILE I NURSED A LAGER AND SCARFED DOWN FOUR PACKETS OF CRISPS.
NOT TO BE OUTSHONE BY THE SCOTTISH NATIONAL GALLERY IN EDINBURGH, GLASGOW’S KELVINGROVE GALLERY AND MUSEUM OPENED ITS DOOR IN 1902. IT TOO IS LOCATED ON THE UNIVERSITY’S CAMPUS. ARCHITECTS JOHN W. SIMPSON AND E.J. MILNER ALLEN’S RED SANDSTONE EDIFICE, WITH ITS ORNATE TOWERS AND BAROQUE FACADE, STANDS IN OSTENTATIOUS CONTRAST TO THE MORE AUSTERE STYLE OF THE PERIOD. THE ENTRY HALL IS SPECTACULAR; MORE CATHEDRAL THAN MUSEUM. THE COLLECTION IS ECLECTIC AND DIVERSE. ALONG WITH THE SCOTTISH IMPRESSIONISTS JAMES GUTHRIE, JOHN LAVERY, E.A. HORNEL, JAMES PATERSON AND THE OTHER GLASGOW BOYS, THERE ARE VINTAGE CARS, MACKINTOSH FURNITURE, FRENCH IMPRESSIONISTS AND A SPECTACULAR CRUCIFIXION BY SALVADOR DALI, A BIRD’S EYE VIEW OF THE CRUCIFIED CHRIST. APPARENTLY, DALI HIRED A HOLLYWOOD STUNTMAN TO HANG FROM THE CEILING OF HIS STUDIO TO GET THE CORRECT PERSPECTIVE.
MARGO IS TOO GRAND TO BE CALLED A GASTROPUB. IT MANAGES TO BE BOTH SPACIOUS AND HOMEY. EVEN WITH DISHES RANGING FROM WHITE CRAB VOL-AU-VENT AND BRETON MUSSELS WITH BRETON CIDER TO SKATE WING WITH ‘NDUJA BEURRE BLANC AND PORK BELLY WITH CARAMELIZED FENNEL, MORCILLA AND BLACK GARLIC KETSUP, THE COOKING IS MORE GROUNDED THAN IT MIGHT APPEAR. A BOTTLE OF RED FROM THEIR EXTENSIVE, INTERNATIONAL WINE LIST HELPED US OVER THE BUMPS.
WEDNESDAY MORNING WE ATE A LAST BREAKFAST AT SARDI AND UBERED TO THE AIRPORT TO PICK UP OUR RENTAL. BYE, BYE RIVER CLYDE. HELLO, SKYE.
OVER THE SEA TO SKYE
HILL HOUSE, A MACKINTOSH GEM COMMISSIONED BY WALTER BLACKIE, THE PUBLISHING MAGNATE, IS COMPLETED ENVELOPED BY SCAFFOLDING AND MESH, BECAUSE IT IN THE MIDST OF MAJOR RESTORATION. STILL, IT WAS OPEN FOR BUSINESS. THAT’S WHERE WE WERE WHEN ALBYN DISCOVERED TO HER HORROR THAT HER BACKPACK CONTAINING HER LAPTOP WAS NOT IN THE CAR. FORTUNATELY, THE GLASGOW AIRPORT WAS ONLY THIRTY MINUTES AWAY, WHICH IS WHERE WE FOUND IT, UNDISTURBED, IN THE CAR RENTAL OFFICE. BUT IT COST US AN HOUR AND WE WERE DUE AT THE INVERLOCHY CASTLE HOTEL FOR A MULTI-COURSE TASTING MENU AT 7PM SHARP. WE WERE DRIVING NORTH INTO THE SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS, PASSING THROUGH A BLEAK AND DRAMATIC LANDSCAPE, WHICH LOOKS LIKE A LANDSCAPE ON SOME DISTANT PLANET. THE GLACIERS OF THE LAST ICE AGE GROUND DOWN THE PEAKS AND SCRAPED THE TOPSOIL FROM THE LAND. THE TWO-LANE HIGHWAY CUTS RIGHT THROUGH THESE MOUNTAINS SO EVEN THOUGH BEN NEVIS, THE HIGHEST PEAK IN BRITAIN IS ONLY 4,313 FT (2,00 FT SHORTER THAN MT. WASHINGTON) THEIR JAGGED BASALT PYRAMIDS, DEVOID OF VEGETATION LOWER OVER OUR LITTLE NISSAN SUV LIKE SLEEPING GIANTS. THEY’RE BOTH SCARY AND MAGNIFICENT. WE PULL UP TO THE INVERLOCHY CASTLE HOTEL AT 6:30 COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED, IN OF A NAP AND A SHOWER. I SAY AS MUCH TO MANAGER WHEN WE CHECK IN AND ASK HIM, PLEASE, COULD WE COME TO DINNER AT EIGHT. “I’M SORRY, SIR, BUT DINNER IS SERVED FOR ALL OUR GUESTS AT SEVEN. YOU MAY COME LATER, IF YOU CHOOSE BUT YOU MAY MISS SOME OF THE COURSES.” SUCH AN ARRANGEMENT IS UNHEARD OF IN A MICHELIN QUALITY RESTAURANT CHARGING $145/PERSON PLUS WINE. BUT THE INVERLOCHY IS, IN FACT, NOT A MICHELIN STARRED RESTAURANT, EXCEPT IN ITS HISTORICAL CONNECTION TO THE MICHELIN-STARRED CHEF ALBERT ROUX OF GAVROCHE FAME, WHO’S BEEN DEAD SINCE 2021. THE INVERLOCHY’S RESTAURANT IS NOT EVEN MENTIONED IN THE MICHELIN AND FOR GOOD REASON. WE BARELY HAVE TIME TO DUMP OUR BAGS AT THE LODGE, DOWN THE ROAD FROM THE CASTLE, AND RACE BACK FOR THE COCKTAIL HOUR. I TASTE TROUBLE ON THE HORIZON WITH MY FIRST BITE OF HORS D’OEVRE, A FISHY-TASTING PATÉ ON A TOAST ROUND, WASHED DOWN WITH A FLUTE ON NON-VINTAGE TATTINGER. AT SEVEN PRECISELY WE ARE USHERED EN MASSE INTO ONE OF SEVERAL DINING ROOMS WHERE OUR TABLE FOR THREE COULD SEAT TEN. I WAS PRESENTED WITH THE WINE LIST, WHICH WAS SO SHORT WE COULD HAVE BEEN AT A HOLIDAY INN. WHEN I ASKED WHY, I WAS TOLD THAT THE INVERLOCHY NO LONGER KEEPS A LOT BECAUSE THE DEMAND IS SO LOW. WHAT?! I COULDN’T BRING MYSELF TO PHOTOGRAPHS THE BRIEF PARADE OF AMUSES BOUCHES. MOVING ON, ALBERT ROUX MIGHT HAVE TOLD THE CHEF DE CUSINE THAT YOU CAN’T COOK 45 SCALLOPS AT THE SAME TIME BEGORE HE DIED, BECAUSE THEY COME OUT LIKE SHRIVELED HOCKEY PUCKS, COWERING IN THEIR SHELLS. THE DUCK COURSE, A TOUGH MAGRET ACCOMPANIED BY A SAVORY LITTLE BLOCK OF DUCK LIVER, FORCEMEAT SANDWICHED BETWEEN LAYERS OF UNPUFFED PASTRY. DESSERT? FUGGETABOUTIT. WE HAD COFFEE IN THE LAVISHLY OVERDECORATED LOUNGE, BEFORE RETIRING TO THE LODGE WHERE WE THE ONLY GUESTS, WHERE ALBYN’S TOILET DIDN’T FLUSH AND THE HOUSE PHONE WAS DEAD.
WE LEFT OUR STOMACHS IN SAN FRANCISCOO
AROUND THIS TIME LAST YEAR, WE INVITED THREE OF OUR CLOSEST FRIENDS — ESTHER AND THE FALCONS (SANDY AND RUTH) — TO UMBRIA, WHERE WE HAD RENTED A BEAUTIFULLY RESTORED 12TH CENTURY HOUSE, NOT FAR FROM ASSISI, PERUGIA AND GUBBIO. WE INFLICTED A SMALL AMOUNT OF ART ON THEM. FOCUSSING PRIMARILY ON TOURING, EATING AND SHOPPING. THEY HAD A GREAT TEN DAYS AND SO DID WE.
IN AN ATTEMPT TO RECAPTURE THAT SAME CAMARADERIE, SANDY RENTED A HOUSE ON A QUIET STREET IN THE PRESIDIO, WHERE FOR FIVE DAYS, WE DROVE AND UBERED AROUND SAN FRANCISCO, VISITING MUSEUMS, DINING IN A RANGE OF RESTAURANTS, SHOPPING, AND GENERALLY ENJOYING THIS VERY BEAUTIFUL CITY IN PERFECT WEATHER.
SANDY AND RUTH DROVE, WHILE ESTHER, LYNN AND I FLEW. THE FALCONS PICKED US UP AT THE S.F. AIRPORT AND WE ALL DROVE TO THE HOUSE. THE THREE-STORY, SHINGLED TOWNHOUSE WAS ECLECTICALLY FURNISHED BUT ADMIRABLY EQUIPPED. IT FELT LIKE THE FAMILY HAD MOVED OUT JUST IN TIME TO LET US IN. AFTER AN EXCELLENT SANDWICH LUNCH AT ASHLEY, WE FOUND A SMALL, HIGH-END SUPERMARKET AND STOCKED UP FOR BREAKFASTS.
I HAD BEEN DESIGNATED THE FOOD DIRECTOR, THOUGH THE GROUP HAD STIPULATED THEY DIDN’T WANT “FANCY” RESTAURANTS, SO I GENERALLY AVOIDED TASTING MENUS OR PLACES WITH $65 ENTREES. RELYING ON THE NY TIMES 25 BEST RESTAURANTS IN SAN FRANCISCO AND THE INFATUATION.
OUR FIRST DINNER WAS AT A CLASSIC CANTONESE PLACE IN CHINATOWN CALLED R&G LOUNGE. WHY LOUNGE, I HAVEN’T A CLUE. BUT THE DOWNSTAIRS DINING ROOM WAS PACKED WITH MOSTLY CHINESE PEOPLE, FACING MOUNTAINOUS HEAPS OF FRIED DUNGENESS CRAB WASHED DOWN WITH TSING TAO. WE FOLLOWED SUIT, ADDING CRISP AND JUICY PEKING DUCK, SAUTÉED PEA SHOOT LEAVES, PAN FRIED STRING BEANS, AND A LACKLUSTER NOODLE DISH. SO FAR, SO GOOD.
TUESDAY WAS MUSEUM DAY. PAUL McCARTNEY’s PHOTOS WERE AT THE DE YOUNG IN GOLDEN GATE PARK. I SUPPOSE IF ONE WERE A FANATICAL BEATLES FAN, EIGHT ROOMS, CHRONICLING THE FAB FOUR’S APPEARANCES ON FOUR CONTINENTS, BOTH ONSTAGE AND LOUNGING AROUND HOTELS ROOMS WITH THEIR WIVES AND GIRLFRIENDS, WOULD HAVE PROVED RIVETING. BUT PAUL, GREAT MUSICIAN THOUGH HE IS, IS NOT CARTIER BRESSON OR RICHARD AVEDON. SO THREE ROOMS IN MY EYES STARTED GLAZING OVER. JUST BEYOND THE PHOTO SHOW, HOWEVER, WAS A ROOM OF MATISSE CUTOUTS, WHICH I WAS EAGER TO SEE. THAT’S WHEN THE FIRE ALARM WENT OFF AND WE HAD TO EVACUATE THE BUILDING.
THIS TURNED OUT TO BE A MIXED BLESSING, SINCE THE DE YOUNG BORDERS ON THE BOTANICAL GARDENS, WHERE WE WANDERED THROUGH GROVES OF ROMALARIA AND NEW ZEALAND CHRISTMAS TREES.
AFTER A GENERALLY GHASTLY LUNCH AT THE S.F. MUSEUM OF ART, WE TOOK IN THE RUTH AZAWA SHOW. I’VE ALWAYS ADMIRED HER GHOSTLY WOVEN WIRE HANGINGS, BUT THIS EXHIBITION RAISED MY PREVIOUS ESTIMATION. THE PIECES WERE EXQUISITE, DELICATE, HAUNTING, INTRICATE CONSTRUCTIONS WHOSE SHADOWS WERE AS ENGAGING AS THE PIECES THEMSELVES.
TAKING THE TEMPERATURE OF THE GROUP, I DECIDED THIS WAS THE EVENING FOR A SERIOUSLY FILLING MEAL. HOW ABOUT MINNIE BELL’S SOUL MOVEMENT, WHERE MINNIE SERVES UP FLAWLESS FRIED CHICKEN, CORN BREAD, OXTAILS, AND MACK ‘N’ CHEESE, INSPIRED BY HER GREAT AUNT, THE LEGENDARY FERNAY McPHERSON. WE ORDERED SO MUCH FOOD THAT I GAVE OUR TAKEAWAY TO OUR GRATEFUL UBER DRIVER.
WEDNESDAY WAS RUTH’S BIRTHDAY AND SHE HAD FOND MEMORIES OF ZUNI CAFE FROM A PREVIOUS LIFETIME. OUR FRIENDS CLAUDIA AND ANTHONY FLEW UP FROM L.A. TO JOIN THE CELEBRATION, WHICH WAS APPROPRIATELY DRUNKEN AND LIVELY. BY THE TIME WE WERE SEATED EVERYONE WAS HIGH ON ONE THING OR ANOTHER, SO ZUNI’S LEGENDARY ROAST CHICKEN, WHICH TAKES 75 MINUTES TO MAKE AND COSTS A DOLLAR A MINUTE, ARRIVED AS WE WERE ALL FADING. I CAN’T SAY IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT. YOU’D THINK IF YOU’RE ROASTING A WHOLE CHICKEN IN REAL TIME AND HAVE BEEN DOING SO FOR 45 YEARS, IT WOULD ARRIVE PERFECTLY COOKED RATHER THAN TOUGH WITH DRY WHITE MEAT.
THE NEXT DAY, THURSDAY, OUR OLD FRIEND POLLY FRIZZEL AND HER FRIEND GEORGIA PICKED US UP AND DROVE US ACROSS THE OAKLAND BAY BRIDGE TO CHEZ PANISSE IN BERKLEY. WE ATE UPSTAIRS IN THE CAFE, WHICH OVER THE COURSE OF SEVERAL VISITS HAS NEVER DISAPPOINTED. THIS MEAL WAS NO EXCEPTION. BRIGHT AND CRUNCHY SALADS: ONE WITH BAKED CHEVRE; THE OTHER, WITH MARINATED BEETS, CARROTS AND PISTACHIOS. HALIBUT WITH SNAP PEAS. LOIN OF PORK ROASTED WITH CUMIN AND A JUICY HALF CHICKEN AL MATTONE WITH SPINACH AND PEA SHOOTS. A CHOCOLATE MOUSSE. AN EXQUISITE CHERRY TART. ALL WASHED DOWN WITH AN EXPENSIVE BUT SAVORY ALSATIAN RIESLING.
FRIDAY, OUR LAST DAY, WAS DEVOTED TO SHOPPING AND WANDERING AROUND THE FUNKY NEIGHBORHOOD OF NORTH BEACH, WHERE THERE ARE MORE PIZZA JOINTS PER BLOCK THAN ANY BLOCK IN PALERMO. LUNCH WAS CIOPPINO AT SOTTO MARE; PLENTY ENOUGH FOR TWO IN THE RATHER GRIM DOWNSTAIRS ANNEX, BUT DELICIOUS NEVERTHELESS.
OUR FINAL MEAL, I’D RESERVED A TABLE AT AZIZA, WHERE LYNN AND I HAD EATEN YEARS BEFORE BUT WAS STILL ON THE TOP OF EVERYONE’S RECOMMENDED LISTS, INCLUDING THE MICHELIN. THE RESTAURANT HAD GROWN LARGER AND MORE REFINED THAN I’D REMEMBERED, BUT THE ROOM, THE SERVICE, THE FOOD WAS BETTER THAN EVER. THE DISHES ARE INSPIRED BY MOROCCO, WITH CLASSICS SUCH AS CHICKEN BASTEEYA AND BRAISED LAMB SHANK AND SOME TRUE INVENTIONS SUCH AS BURRATA WITH TOMATO JAM AND GREEN SHAKSHUKA WITH LEEKS, SPINACH AND FETA. THE CORN BREAD WAS AS MUCH PUDDING AS BREAD; THE BROCCOLINI, CRISP AND FLAVORED WITH PRESERVED LEMON. A SPANISH TEMPRANILLO WAS FULL-BODIED AND ELEGANT. AZIZA WAS A FITTING ENDING TO A JOLLY FIVE DAYS.
SATURDAY MORNING, WE ALL PILED INTO THE FALCON’S HONDA AND MADE IT BACK TO L.A. IN SEVEN HOURS, WITH A STOP OFF IN PASO ROBLES FOR HAMBURGERS AND BEER.
WE’RE ALREADY PLANNING NEXT YEAR’S EXCURSION. WE’RE OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS. Z
