HERMANO PRIMERO: IT'S MY BIRTHDAY TOO YEAH
Apropos of very little in particular it was my birthday the other day. I’m usually not one for celebrating but when relatives are so insistent on being nice to me it’s very hard to resist.
Baba gave me a watch, HT gave me a copy of The Times published on my date of birth (interestingly the front page contained just adverts which gives you a rough idea of how ancient I am) and HS and his delightful friend, Sybil (favourite word: Whatever !!???), paid for a slap-up meal at Rules.
On my actual birthday I had to work (booo), so after a long, hard day at the office and with an early flight to Madrid the next day I didn’t really want to go out. I was very pleasantly surprised then, to find a package from my Sister and her family waiting for me which contained a tin of Beluga Caviar. It was also rather prescient of her as on the way home I’d picked up half a bottle of Krug Grande Année…as you do. HS was on the wagon for the week and admitted caviar didn’t do anything for him so it was all for moi.
Now I hadn’t eaten this quantity of Beluga for many years so the first couple of mouthfuls were eaten too quickly and in too large a quantity. Like most things in life the pleasure of an activity is prolonged if you take it nice and slowwwwwly. I began to wield my Mother of Pearl caviar spoon more delicately, delivering just a few eggs into my mouth before gently popping them on my tongue and taking a sip of the champagne.
A strange kind of alchemy then became apparent as the slightly salty, very creamy fish roe starting working with the richness of the Krug. I could come up with all sorts of flowery language to describe the tastes but only two words were in my head. Clue: they both started with F and the second one was Fantastic. When I’d finished all I could think was: I want more. Now.
My night wasn’t quite over though as for the next act HS and I shared a Kilo of the famed Bistecca Chianina from Tuscany. I’d imported this Beef from Italy at some cost and was hoping it didn’t disappoint. It didn’t. Cooked on a ridged grill and rested properly until evenly bloody it’s flavour was quite different to good quality British and Irish Beef being more akin to the Carne Roja from Galicia. It was a bit more chewy as well, but in a good way. As we might say in Britain: not a bad way to finish off my special day. Cumpleaños Feli - to me of course.