Can you eat and drink vicariously? For a decade Mrs BB and younger daughter have visited continental Christmas markets (Cologne, Aachen, Brussels, Valkenberg, Coblenz, Rudesheim, Bruges, Dusseldorf, Stuttgart) for which I supply some cash and search out a restaurant online. I refuse to accompany them. Why? Because there's more fun in listening to their adventures afterwards than being in charge.
In Prague there was the attraction of meeting Julia under the Christmas tree, drinking gluhwein and telling stories "about the missing person at the table". Julia also emails: "I recognised Mrs BB straghtaway from her poem picture". Since this is a photo taken in 1959 which accompanies a sonnet written for the blog two months ago, Mrs BB's reaction (you can see why we married) was: "I think that's very unlikely".
Dinner was at La Dégustation, a seven-course tasting menu with four amuse bouche interpolations. I'd seen the wine list online so compensated for my absence by financing two bottles of burgundy: Corton-Bessandres, Grand Cru 2005, Dom: Edmund Cornu and, rather more showily, Vosnes-Romanée, Les Chaumes 2006 (the 2005 had run out). The sommelier began explaining their provenance then, becoming aware of my virtual presence at the table, stopped and said, "But then you know about them". I then vicariously sipped the Vosnes ("absolutely luscious") and the Corton ("somewhat more austere") - both judgements courtesy Mrs BB.
Just in case this is becoming too hard to take, let me add I do give to charity. "Too much" to Amnesty International, according a friend of mine with left-wing tendencies.
Came the choice of pudding wine the sommelier offered two: one Czech and one (he started laughing) a sauterne. A no-brainer.
Novel progress 19/12/09. None so far. During the feat at La Dégustation I ate two fried-egg sandwiches.
In Prague there was the attraction of meeting Julia under the Christmas tree, drinking gluhwein and telling stories "about the missing person at the table". Julia also emails: "I recognised Mrs BB straghtaway from her poem picture". Since this is a photo taken in 1959 which accompanies a sonnet written for the blog two months ago, Mrs BB's reaction (you can see why we married) was: "I think that's very unlikely".
Dinner was at La Dégustation, a seven-course tasting menu with four amuse bouche interpolations. I'd seen the wine list online so compensated for my absence by financing two bottles of burgundy: Corton-Bessandres, Grand Cru 2005, Dom: Edmund Cornu and, rather more showily, Vosnes-Romanée, Les Chaumes 2006 (the 2005 had run out). The sommelier began explaining their provenance then, becoming aware of my virtual presence at the table, stopped and said, "But then you know about them". I then vicariously sipped the Vosnes ("absolutely luscious") and the Corton ("somewhat more austere") - both judgements courtesy Mrs BB.
Just in case this is becoming too hard to take, let me add I do give to charity. "Too much" to Amnesty International, according a friend of mine with left-wing tendencies.
Came the choice of pudding wine the sommelier offered two: one Czech and one (he started laughing) a sauterne. A no-brainer.
Novel progress 19/12/09. None so far. During the feat at La Dégustation I ate two fried-egg sandwiches.
15 comments:
ounds like a grand time was had by all, including the one not at the table.
:)
"ounds like"? What happened to my "S"?
I just read that aloud. Don't respond, BB.
:D
I still can't think of a device that has improved my life. Of course, I still type letters on my Olivetti Underwood Lettera 32. Now you have me thinking of the European markets and Glühwein. Snow is falling here as I type. Hmm, maybe those snow shovels with the bent handles ... yes, that has improved my life. No more lower back pain after shovelling the drive.
What did you drink with the fried egg sandwiches?
The Crow: Your only worries would be if someone from South Effrica were pronouncing it.
RW (zS)L You're commenting on the wrong post. How could I contemplate drinking beer made by someone who does that? Incidentally, a prezzie was brought back from Prague for me. It comes in a glass structure and the contents start with a P. That's a very sad sort of thing as a life-improver. I'm sure if I tried hard I could get back pains with that type of shovel too. In fact I'm getting back pains just writing about back pains.
Plutarch: What a shrewd question. Mount Gay rum since you ask.
Luxuriating in the meal description at a distance. Is this "foodporn" BB?
As to rum with a fried egg sandwich.............
Luxuriating in the meal description at a distance. Is this "foodporn" BB?
As to rum with a fried egg sandwich.............
I must say that the fried egg sandwiches sound just like my Pa's meal of choice!
Avus: I'm rather hurt by this. After all it could be seen as an extremely expensive form of dieting. Always excepting the fried-egg sandwich.
HHB: Of course, Avus would be one up on me. Makes the fried-egg sandwich and then lets Rex eat it. Now that's real dieting!
Pictures are great, BB. They help flesh out (no pun intended, sorry) your post.
Who is the dark-haired lady?
The younger daughter.
Strangely, but as if pre-ordained by my apprehensions about showing my face, younger daughter (taken with the camera's self-timer and hence at eye level) looks remarkably like me except that she (a) lacks the effects of extreme age, and (b) radiates an alien optimism. Like most men I'm not much good at this but I have raised this point with The Sage of the Neff and she confirms it. So for those interested in pursuing it further enlarge the print, use a black pencil to draw in gulley-like vertical lines left and right of the mouth, replace the eyes with oysters and there you have it: Barrett Bonden, Wanted Dead or Alive.
Oysters? On the half-shell, or clamped shut?
I see Mrs. BB, as shown in your photo of her several posts ago, in Younger Daughter's face, too.
Lovely daughter, no matter which of you she favors most.
The Crow: Oyster? Let me help you a little. Remember the line from Ulysses: "the snot-green sea." That more or less does it.
Snot-green oysters?! Eww-w-w-w, yuck! Time for a visit to the opthamologist, maybe?
(Teasing again - I understand what you meant.)
:)
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