From talk of its inception, I expected Town Hall Hotel to stand apart from most boutique hotels. For a start Artsadmin (an edgy East London-based company that produces and supports contemporary artists) had been hired by Peng Loh (a young Singaporean hotelier) to curate the artwork for the space. My rabble-rousing brother, Manick Govinda, happens to work for Artsadmin and clued me in on the project about a year ago. He recently told me he loved the entire process from conception to fruition. And I’ve got to say I’m struck by the end results.

Town Hall Hotel opened in March 2010. It is housed in the old Bethnal Green Town Hall. It’s off a busy, gritty street that remains diverse despite East London’s now explosive hipster scene. Depending on what direction you’re coming from, as you walk along Cambridge Heath Road, you’ll likely pass a handful of small Asian cafes serving basic grub and a rather large car mechanics where men are still men.

I walked into the building through the restaurant entrance (you have to turn the corner onto Patriot Square for hotel access). To the right is the hotel bar and to the left is Viajante, which by the way is fully booked through to September and has a waiting list in the three digits. The bar is tastefully stylish. Manick was running late so I took a seat and perused the menu. Whoa. Wine geek alert. This was no yawn-inducing Clicquot, Moet, Henschke, Penfolds, line up. For starters, the champers is mostly grower-producer. I spied Selosse Initiale, Vilamart Grand Cellier and Lassaigne Les Vignes de Montgueuex. This place would be the bomb if it were in NYC.

I ordered Lopez de Heredia Vina Tondonia Rosado (by the glass for seven quid). Charles Jouget Cuvee Terroir was on offer among the reds btg. The wine director (who at that moment was unbeknownst to me) had my full attention and respect. Word. Even more so when I found out she’s an unconventional professional wino, an Asian woman sporting a mohawk. Word Up. Bar snacks are delectable, simple and sometimes Iberian inflected. The head bartender is a no-nonsense dour sort of English man who makes a damn good cocktail. I tried the bracingly bitter Hanky Panky (a mix of gin, Antica Vermouth and Fernet Branca).

While I waited for Manick to arrive, my attention was drawn to a large piece of text engraved into a narrow cut of sand blasted glass, which fit perfectly into a narrow alcove just above the stairway to the loo. The words were full of images. When Manick arrived he explained to me that it was the work of WalkWalkWalk - a collaboration between three artists. Smaller pieces of texts by the same artists can be discovered in unexpected spots at the hotel.

This isn’t your usual flashy Schnabel-like paintings (on view at Gramercy Park Hotel) or the traditional visuals adorning the walls at more classic hotels or, worse yet, wallpaper art. No, the artwork work at Town hall Hotel is playful, thought provoking, modern, quirky and quite brilliant. I took in my favorite piece when Manick whisked me through a little tour of the artwork and we got to the floor where artist Debbie Lawson had created wood-paneled images of saucy, intimate, sexual Victoriana, cut from the likes of London plane, sycamore, bird’s eye maple and walnut. In one instance a woman’s nipple is the natural swirl of grain in a piece of wood. I do it no justice here. You’ll have to book a room, have a glass of wine, head upstairs in a giddy mood and see for yourself.

A few days here and there is all I’ve experienced of Paris over the last few years. I’m thinking it is about time I plunge in and get a real dose of the city everyone loves to love (& hate). Not sure how I will achieve this but I hope to play the ex-pat writer in the city of lights one day. Yesterday was my final day at Tinto Fino. A sweet shop it was but vinos de España and I weren’t meant to be. Now I find myself dreaming of the possibilities. I’m free (and yes poor) again. I can keep dreaming, can’t I?

My most recent morsel of Paris was just for 3 days. My friend, May Matta, joined me for walks, talks, eating & drinking. We stayed in the pricey-posh neighborhood of St-Germain-des-Prés and tested the grounds with two local spots: Boissonnerie and Le Comptoir. Francois Chidaine, whose Montlouis and Vouvray wines I adore, recommended the former. The latter restaurant has plenty of buzz online and was suggested to me by Sharon Bowman.

We almost didn’t make it to Le Comptoir but after stumbling upon La Crèmerie (they weren’t serving lunch that day) we were encouraged to try and get a table there. It was a moment that couldn’t be planned. We spied Doug & Tina Polaner seated at the packed out spot. They kindly gave us the remains of a bottle of Lapierre Morgon, which I preceded with a glass of Renardat-Fâche Cerdon. I needed something pretty, fresh and light for the 85-degree scorcher of a day. The food made me swoon. May and I noshed on dishes of white asparagus, baked eggs with cepes with Peruvian potato chips and snails drenched in butter and parsley.

The chow at La Boissonerie was equally good as was exemplified in a first course of eel with crème fraiche and second courses of succulent rare lamb chops with lentilles du Puy and an exquisite fish dish that May ordered, topped with an orange grated root vegetable (no not carrots) I haven’t heard of – all of it sitting in a mushy cloud of potato and pistachio nut oil. Perfection. I immersed myself in Chenin. First the razor sharp and salivating Belliviere Jasniere Les Rosiers ‘08, followed by a rather rich Pierre-Bise Anjou Le Haut de la Garde (2008), a sans souffre wine that seemed to have botrytized grapes in there.

A repeat performance was made at Verre Vole (I’d been in Oct last year) where I had my first taste of Domaine Prieuré-Roch Nuits “1” 2007, a Nuits St. Georges1er Cru. OMG. Winemaker Henry-Frédéric Roch, is the co-director of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti and the wine is not available in the States. It is Burgundy that’ll make you cry. Really reminded me of Pacalet – earthy, floral, hints of iodine. Just stunning.

Finally, dinner was had at quedubon in the Belleville neighborhood. The restaurant was adorable, staff was lovely and the food was honest and tasty. Had some of the best cheese here and discovered a very lovely pet-nat VdT from Montlouis called “Rose à Lies” produced by Jousset, along with an Alsatian blanc – Sylvie Spielman Riesing Reserve Bergheim 2007.  The Jousset was so good I ordered two glasses.

Oh the bottles I’ve had of this wine, the memories associated with it…the search for gratification from Astor Wines in the East Village to Slope Cellars in Brooklyn. I recall when all accounts ran out because small-production vino offers very, very finite numbers. Like the end of a summer fling, I was broken hearted. The third arm of the methode ancestrale trinity, along with Rene Mosse Moussamousette (and that too ran out late last year) and Renardat-Fâche Cerdon du Bugey, had gone but now it’s back.

Spied in the ice bucket at the recent Savio Soares tasting, I was thrilled to see it’s slender, graceful neck peeking out among a handful of sparkling wine bottles. I took in my first sip for 2010 and marveled at its prettiness and pure grape-y sweetness.

Soares said he’s gotten more in this year but it wasn’t easy. Apparently, everyone wants this wine, including Japan.

I had retreated from the blogosphere. I am now rested, returned and inspired to write accounts of noshing and imbibing. I’m late in reporting on so much: J&F tasting in March, David Bowler tasting in April, the more recent Louis/Dressner tasting and my own personal encounters of deliciousness.

I shall work my way backwards and begin with a lovely little sparkling red gamay acquired from Wine Therapy on Elizabeth Street. I’d spied Emile Heredia’s Boisson Rouge at wine bars in Paris so I was excited to see the pet nat here. From what I gather not much of it makes it to the US. Maybe Wine Therapy got it all, and he only had 5 bottles left of the stuff when I went in. Make that four now.

It’s another cap-closure, witty-labeled, VdT, unfiltered wine. The sparkling is from a second fermentation in the bottle. Jean-Baptiste (the owner) thinks it might be the methode ancestrale. It fizzes up a gorgous pink froth when poured, has a grapey-sweetness to it, is moderate in alcohol (12%) and is a vin de soif all the way. Just as well because last night’s 80+ degrees called for it.

And this wine has more sediment than I’ve ever seen in a bubbly (think vintage port levels).

The Waters (well wine really) of March are here

Stop the press: I have a part-time job and it entails getting dressed, stepping out the house and interacting. The year 2009 was not a good vintage for wine writing and so at the turn of a new decade I decided to plunge into the workforce. As luck would have it stylish all-Spanish wine shop, Tinto Fino, was looking to hire a new face, connected to hands that could tap out an engaging sentence or two. Currently on trial period, I can be found manning the shop and writing on my ancient iBook. 

In less than a week at Tinto Fino I’ve tasted three Mencia wines. I was weary of the Mencia trend that emerged a few years ago and had tasted several over extracted versions but the three I sipped on most recently were pure pleasure.

Jose Palacios Petalos from Bierzo is a rich wine that is plenty gorgeous and redolent of morello cherries with a faint underlying taste of minerals. A cherry-like tang could also be found in the leaner structured Benaza Mencia (Monterrei D.O.) and finally the Guimaro from Ribera Sacra, which offered generous fruit and that hint of mineral again. There you have it: same grape, three different terrunos and I get to say mencia! with a pseudo Spanish accent. 

Supped at my stepson and future daughter-in-law’s recently. There were too many good wines on the table to taste with mozarella di bufala and hanger steak: Alice de Moor’s Tirage de Printemps A Ligoter (Aligoté at its best and available by the glass at Ten Bells), Axel Prufer Le Temps des Cerises (a très naturel Grenache from Languedoc, that’ll knock you off your chair - and appeal to all who lust after Dard et Ribo’s Printemps), Christian Venier le Clos de Carteries ’08 (a Cab Sauv. and Gamay blend (all gritty mineral, nicely tannic and a kiss of wild strawberries).

For aperitif, Hervé Villemand “Bulles” from Cheverny was a cutie and sits in the category of quirky bubbly (where I place Mosse’s Moussamousettes, Brun’s FRV, Bonard’s sparkling Poulsard and Andrea Calek’s Blonde Pétillant). Bulles is a gamay, pineau d’aunis and pinot noir mix – a Dressner import with a hot pink label that’s equal parts punk and chic.

Le Temps des Cerises has been a bit of a natural wine whore of late (google it and see what I mean) but it was my first taste. I was hard pressed to guess its Languedoc origins. Guilhaume Gerard, formerly of Terroir in San Francisico, once described the Dashe Cellars Zinfandel as a “see through” wine during an interview I had with him for an assignment, meaning it wasn’t over extracted, dark, inky or hot, as is so typical of Cali Zins. Le Temps des Cerises reminded me of his idiosyncratic expression. In my glass I swirled a see-thru red wine, which was funky, herbaceous and spritzy too. I love, love, love it, even if almost everyone else does too.

Indulged in a bottle of C. Pacalet Côte de Brouilly on Saturday night (I love his Chroubles). It started like many a good Brouilly  – light, showing purity of fruit. I was enjoying its seemingly uncomplicated character and then bam (!). All of a sudden the last glass was a very different wine. The wine had started off as a sweet Fred Astaire and turned into a brooding mineral Marlon Brando by the end of the evening. I was intrigued and floored, taking smaller sips to prolong the sensation of dirt, grit, mineral and soil. I love a wine that surprises and captivates.

My blog has been neglected, sorely neglected. I returned from Mauritius 3 weeks ago. My heart was broken many times over as my father experienced one complication after another. Somehow he made it through. And he’s getting better.

One evening in Mauritius while my mother and I sat for our nightly ritual of a campari and soda on the patio after dad had taken his medication and fallen asleep, she shared many recipes with me. We spoke softly and the nights were not filled with music or social chatter, we always had an ear out for dad who would often call for us from his broken body (which thankfully mends as I write this). Food was our main communication when we wanted to talk about something else, get our minds off our fears.

I won’t lie, I missed New York during my six week journey to my dad’s heart (and brain) and back again so it seemed right that I should gather my best friends, feed them, drink good wine and revel in celebration. On Dec 30^th I requested guests don their glad rags (most of them did) and bring a bottle. It was possibly one the best parties we’ve had. I made an industrial sized pot of haleem, which was devoured down to the last bit. I was impressed, I was proud.

Haleem is a hearty Persian and Pakistani stew made with lamb or mutton and lentils, dal and barley. It is rich and festive, and a typical Muslim dish in Mauritius. Here is my mother’s recipe for haleem (known in Mauritius as halim).

(Serves 2-4 people)

1 heaped tablespoon Shaan Haleem Mix

1lb Lamb shoulder, cut on the bone into stew size pieces

1/3 cup dal

1/3 cup black lentils

2 tablespoons of barley

ginger

garlic

onions

cilantro (fresh coriander)

spring onions

1 lemon

1 cinnamon stick

3 cardamoms

turmeric

fresh chili

spring onions

olive oil

Sauté meat in a little olive oil together with cinnamon, cardamom and salt until browned. Cover with water (just enough water to cover the meat) and let simmer for 20 mins.

Wash dal, lentils and barley and add to meat. Add more water (about 4-5 cups) and bring to a boil. Turn heat down and leave to simmer for 30 mins with lid partially covered.

Meanwhile take a pan and sautee onions. After a few mins add 2-3 tomatoes, Halim mix, a pinch of turmeric and stir to a paste by adding a little water.

When pulses and barley are almost cooked and meat is tender, add salt, halim and tomato mix and let simmer for another 15 mins. If too thick, add water, if too thin let it cook down more.

In a bowl whisk together chopped fresh chili, spring onions, vinegar, lemon juice, olive oil and drizzle on top of the soup when serving. garnish with chopped cilantro (fresh coriander).

Here’s a load of the delicious wines contributed by my friends of good taste.

Next to her was the pixie-ish Noella Morantin. Noella took over half of Clos Roche’s vineyards and is making her own wine with that fine fruit. Her Sauvignon Blanc ’08 was lovely with a hint if pepper, Menu Pineau ’08 was so aromatic and showed beautiful fruit, while the Cot was to die for; it was all crushed oyster shells and showed this quintessential violet juice character that this same grape shows when handled by Clos Roche Blanche. It’s terroir!

Thierry Puzelat was present. I was too shy to talk to him. It was like meeting David Bowie; I wouldn’t know what to say. His wines moved me as much as Ziggy Stardust, Hunky Dory and The Man Who Sold The World rolled into one. Each wine, in succession, exuded mineral, after mineral, after mineral. The Cheverny Rouge Rouillon was particularly amazing. “Pouille” (a gamay and grolleau blend) was pure and gritty and at $120 frontline it is an unbelievable bargain. Beautiful, beautiful.

Hervé Villemade offered a Pinot Noir (Cheverny Rouge Desiré) that is only made in certain years and strictly bottled in magnum. It was cloudy, prickly and reminded me of peonies and pea shoots. I could nab a bottle and sit on it with patience.

Beyond the Loire I ventured to Burgundy in the form of Pacalet, whose Pommard ’06 tasted like iodine and flowers and the Gevrey defied words, I simply wrote, “OMG so beautiful,” and the Chambolle Musigny 1er Cru showed hints of herbaceous chinotto-like character but on the palate it was tight and lean.

I have a soft spot for South Africans they are so close to Mauritius that I feel a certain sort of kin with them so I was delighted to meet Tom Lubbe, a South African who made his way north to the Rousillon to make wines that are clearly pure and balanced.

I could go on and on but I’m not going to. I leave on my journey to London and then Mauritius tomorrow. I am about to indulge in my last supper with Jim, a meal of steak and broccoli rabe. He so thoughtfully cooked the sort of food I love and has opened the Dom Bachelet Gevery Chambertin. I am drinking it now. It is a 2005 and shows the warmth of that vintage yet it has a mineral edge and good structure. I will miss Jim and I’ll miss his food – he shows me a lot of love in the kitchen.

I am going on a journey that will be painfully difficult. I don’t know if it is appropriate to blog about it but I might. I’ll write soon from Mauritius.