I would have to admit that I am more of a rhum and cognac man, but in the last 8 or 9 years I have become interested in grappa, mostly because of my discovery of the Italian kitchen.
When we were in the Piemonte in October we had the good fortune to visit a grappa distillery called Vieux Moulin which you can’t miss if you drive along the road from Asti to Alba because there are several large signs pointing the way. The place is pretty unassuming, there is a big dog chained-up in the court yard who heralds your arrival with a never-ending series of barks and the whole place has a pretty home-spun air about it.
Recently my cooking has taken a provincial turn. I have become fascinated with simplicity. I use meats and vegetables that take hours to cook, and I am using Dutch-ovens and cast-iron pots more than ever before. I am in quest of ancient recipes and forgotten techniques: food that our forefathers cooked, “cuisine terroir“. For the time being, I have turned my back on all "new" food. Restaurants that turn apple juice into faux-caviar like El Bulli just depress me now. I can no longer tolerate any cooking that masks the true flavor of food. I want to use the most basic of ingredients and cook them painstakingly slowly with the utmost attention. I want to taunt the flavor out of my ingredients. I want to wait patiently, like a father waits for his children to grow up…like a connoisseur waits for his wine to be ready to drink. Give me time…. give me the chance to tease and coax my ingredients to perfection… give me rooms thick with the perfume of slow-cooked food…. but most of all.... give me one or two friends that feel the same way to enjoy it with.
I have a little confession to declare. I am a seasoned vodka drinker. It all started 20 years ago when I became overly interested in pre-revolutionary Russian art.... you know, Fabergé and the like. I was fascinated by all things from old Russia and at that time Stolichnaya was pushing hard to beat Absolute out of the first chair of vodka so I decided vodka was “the thing” and I experimented with Stoli, Pertsovka and all the rest of the Russian vodkas. All of this was fun at the time, but in the end it turned out to be a fad for me and after a year or two it faded away.
Wine labels attract us in mysterious ways. The sight of a Chateau Petrus or Mouton Rothschild label makes some people weak at the knees. It's the same with cars and cigars for some men and shoes and purses for more than a few women. Almost every product seems to have it's coveted marks. I suppose it's because we are confronted with so much mediocrity in our day to day lives that we are automatically attracted to excellence like moths to a flame.
The real truth about wine is that there is too much of the stuff being produced. The result is a wine glut which results in some pretty creative thinking in the ole' marketing departments. Bottles and labels get sexier with every vintage. Mouton Rothschild was one of the pioneers when they commissioned an artist to paint a new painting every year for their wine labels. Perrier Jouet Champagne bottles have huge hand painted flowers on them, even 24 carat gold leaf lettering can be common-place these days. I have seen bottles with gold plated kangaroos dangling from the neck, and some even come with artificial dirt on them, presumably so that your guests will be impressed by your poor application of the domestic sciences in your "ancienne cave".
It occurred to me that some things in life need to be explained for the benefit of those who have neither the time nor forethought to actually plan and execute the perfect Sunday lunch for their friends.
Sunday is the perfect day, because everyone has finally relaxed from the busy work week and with any luck, on Saturday have completed all those strenuous "pleasure" activities like skiing, hiking and other noble, albeit fruitless, expenditures of time. Yes, Sunday IS the perfect day, stores are closed, TV offers you little besides the reruns of Top of the Pops and last Friday's episode of Ready Steady Cook. You can really set everything aside and concentrate on the business of leisure.
Thank you so much Chef Zadi for inviting me to participate in your weblog. I am honored to be here. A brief intro - I am a food writer and love writing about food and anything to do with life in general!
I am posting one of my favorite stories here -- it is on a wedding I attended in India a few years ago. I think the food was amazing, but dont take my word for it.. judge for yourself.
The Indian Wedding Feast, a Modern Marvel
By Monica Bhide Special to The Washington Post Wednesday, May 19, 2004; Page F02
Planning a wedding? Whether you're the bride-to-be, her mother or any other participant, organizer or subsidizer of these complicated, expensive and emotional events, it may help to hear about the wedding I attended last year. Your life will seem, suddenly, simple and uncomplicated, your guest list meager, your catering bill reasonable.
On Nov. 27, 2003, a day picked as auspicious by Hindu astrologers, India's capital city, New Delhi hosted 14,000 weddings. (It hosted the same number again for the next two days in a row!)
I would have to admit that I am more of a rhum and cognac man, but in the last 8 or 9 years I have become interested in grappa, mostly because of my discovery of the Italian kitchen. 
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