15th July
A Flower Day
A Szechuan dinner in Oxford
This story is one which will, I hope, resonate with almost everybody who happens across this posting. I was in Oxford England, and it was the evening before a seminar at which I would attend. I was staying in ‘halls’ so in accommodation reserved normally for the academic population, but in summer these can be re-let. I had identified a tiny, very basic Szechuan noodle restaurant a few metres away that looked good for dinner… a brief enquiry revealed I would be welcome to bring some wine, and a bottle of useful Austrian Riesling was procured from the fridge of a local wine shop. The pieces were in place.
My first order was a plate of salt and pepper prawns, and I knew in an instant of it arriving that there was somebody here who had the required gifts of the wok. Chinese food has a whole plethora of expression, but when you have somebody who is a master of the wok in the kitchen, it’s going to be OK.
Next came some Szechuan crispy chicken wings with Jasmine rice. I ate, and something happened I can’t remember ever doing before… I asked for a second bowl. They were that good. Heston Blumenthal could have turned up offering to show me a better trick and I’d have shown him the door. This was… at that time and place… the best use for the penultimate link of a chicken’s wing that I could imagine. I ate the wings in wonder, savouring each one as a tiny miracle.
Where are we going with this? A humble back street Szechuan restaurant can see off the very greatest in food when the moment is right? You bet they can. Everything is about context and without it comparison becomes pointless. That meal was as great a culinary gift as any I can remember. It cost £36.
So… now to wine.
What makes wine great is context. A small beaker of Txacolina is the finest wine to drink in a Pintxos bar in Basque country. Manzanilla sherry, or its close relatives are the sublime choice for Tapas a bit farther South. It would just be wrong to say: “Oh, but this Chardonnay got 99 points so I should be drinking that.”
Wine may be accounted in quiet rooms by critics and judges, but that is of no relevance to its consumption. Greatness is in the moment: the people, the place, the event, and, of course, the food. We don’t need a score or a tasting note to tell us when these moments of greatness happen.
(Oh, and the restaurant was called Tse Noodle, in Ship Street. If you are around there, enjoy!)
Nigel
15th July
A Flower Day
A Szechuan dinner in Oxford
This story is one which will, I hope, resonate with almost everybody who happens across this posting. I was in Oxford England, and it was the evening before a seminar at which I would attend. I was staying in ‘halls’ so in accommodation reserved normally for the academic population, but in summer these can be re-let. I had identified a tiny, very basic Szechuan noodle restaurant a few metres away that looked good for dinner… a brief enquiry revealed I would be welcome to bring some wine, and a bottle of useful Austrian Riesling was procured from the fridge of a local wine shop. The pieces were in place.
My first order was a plate of salt and pepper prawns, and I knew in an instant of it arriving that there was somebody here who had the required gifts of the wok. Chinese food has a whole plethora of expression, but when you have somebody who is a master of the wok in the kitchen, it’s going to be OK.
Next came some Szechuan crispy chicken wings with Jasmine rice. I ate, and something happened I can’t remember ever doing before… I asked for a second bowl. They were that good. Heston Blumenthal could have turned up offering to show me a better trick and I’d have shown him the door. This was… at that time and place… the best use for the penultimate link of a chicken’s wing that I could imagine. I ate the wings in wonder, savouring each one as a tiny miracle.
Where are we going with this? A humble back street Szechuan restaurant can see off the very greatest in food when the moment is right? You bet they can. Everything is about context and without it comparison becomes pointless. That meal was as great a culinary gift as any I can remember. It cost £36.
So… now to wine.
What makes wine great is context. A small beaker of Txacolina is the finest wine to drink in a Pintxos bar in Basque country. Manzanilla sherry, or its close relatives are the sublime choice for Tapas a bit farther South. It would just be wrong to say: “Oh, but this Chardonnay got 99 points so I should be drinking that.”
Wine may be accounted in quiet rooms by critics and judges, but that is of no relevance to its consumption. Greatness is in the moment: the people, the place, the event, and, of course, the food. We don’t need a score or a tasting note to tell us when these moments of greatness happen.
(Oh, and the restaurant was called Tse Noodle, in Ship Street. If you are around there, enjoy!)
Nigel