Booze Ban in Bangalore

It's a dry day in Bangalore... or should I say a dry THREE days, which means that there's no booze being sold anywhere, and moreover, most of our favourite restaurants are actually CLOSED!!! Reason?  It's election time in Bangalore and as far as I can make out from our driver, there are concerns about unruly behaviour if voters are drinking; plus, it appears that it's customary for the political parties to dish out booze.  Maybe I should sneak into a poll booth and grab myself a shot or two of India's finest whisky???  Normally, a couple of dry days wouldn't be an issue - we have a party to go to on Saturday night, which definitely will not be dry - but it's our anniversary tomorrow and we were hoping for a nice meal out.  Instead, we will have it at home with much better (imported) and much less expensive wine (remembering that tax on booze here is over 250% and then there's the mark up in restaurants...) and I will be cooking (beef, I hope) steaks. Cheers!

You Know You're In England When...

1. You can get pate in the supermarket - that's pate for dogs as well as humans - in fact, you can get ANYTHING in the supermarket.
2. You are driving along in bright sunshine then suddenly hit a freezing snowstorm.
3. The line for the Manchester flight contains at least one woman in a full 'leisure' suit complete with camel toe.
4. The TV is full of repeats, celebrity cooking programmes, and property programmes (with/without celebrity).
5. Wine is one fifth of the price of India - and 10 times better.
6. You can drive YOURSELF around the city AND get up to speeds of more than 10 mph.
7. McDonald's sells beef.
8. The temperature is in single digits.
9. The cows are ALL in fields.
10. Your luggage doesn't arrive when you do...

One Month on my Wagon

I can never remember if being on the booze is on or off the wagon.  Or what the wagon has to do with it.  Or whether it's wagon with one g or waggon with two g's.  Suffice to say today is a landmark in my life - a whole month off the pop!  Obviously, it was slightly enforced due to, oh, emergency surgery BUT it was January 31st when I had my last drink - a very fine Australian red we had brought back from Oz last year and saved for a special occasion. The occasion was that our friend Gordon was in town - who knew that the real occasion would be the last drink for a month.  My husband claims it's the longest I've gone without a drink since I was 18.  I would probably argue that it's the longest I've gone without a drink since I was 15!  While nit-pickers may dispute the legitimacy of a month that is the shortest in the year, given it's a leap year, it's the longest February we'll have for another four years, so it should count for something.  I am a little torn though.  Someone (more religious than me) reminded me that it was Lent and that maybe I should stay off the pop 'til Easter.  That seems a little excessive to me, especially as I have some English friends arriving tonight.  It would clearly be rude NOT to have a little tipple or two with them.  And definitely amiss not to take advantage of the excessive Sunday brunch we will be attending tomorrow.  So, for the moment, I am content with my month/29 day abstinence and looking forward to whetting my palate with a little fizz very soon!

Weekend Warriors

We were adventurous this weekend. We just got back from our first official road-trip - a weekend in Kerala at the beautiful Rainforest Resort looking right across to the Athirapally Waterfalls. And while we have traveled the 'Golden Triangle' of Delhi - Agra - Jaipur by car (or Qualis, an SUV), which is about five hours per leg, we've never done such a long trip in such a short amount of time. We went with two new found friends, found over good food and flowing wine, the four of us making an interesting variation on a typically British joke, "A Hindu, A Muslim, A Catholic, and a Protestant walk into a bar..." The first friend, a bigwig at a wonderful new Indian wine company, Big Banyan came armed with many bottles; the second friend, a thespian-cum-artist-cum journalist (at, among others, our favourite, the Bangalore Mirror), armed with pencil and pad. Our ambitious journey took us from Bangalore into the state of Tamil Nadu through the Western Ghats and onto Kerala - a mere 500km, or 300 miles. Now, for those of you who have never visited India, motorways are a new fangled thing, few and far between thing, and, where they exist, are generally made up of two lanes, but filled five abreast, with traffic heading toward you in the wrong direction, trucks driving on the right (we drive on the left here), and crossed by the odd farmyard animal or pedestrian. The direction signs are great too; depending which you look at, the distance to your destination changes, as does the spelling, and the locals are no better. Stopping to ask directions - or seek confirmation - generally resulted in an argument between the two pedestrians which is probably still going on now. The bulk of our journey was via picturesque but pot-holed routes, passing through small villages, taking tea at 2 Rupees a cup from tiny street vendors, traversing tretcherous mountain sides, and getting stuck behind the odd herd of cattle/sheep/goats. We witnessed the act of 'motorized threshing....' where villagers layout their crops on the road for passing cars/trucks/cattle to run over it and 'thresh' it. It's quite ironic that someone just emailed me this piece from the International Herald Tribune on the state of India's transport system, all of which I can relate to! The net net is that a journey that on western roads might take four or so hours, took 12 there - and another 12 back. Luckily I am a sleeper. And the company was good. Plus I can hang on for a good bathroom, although I did experience everything from 'behind a bush al fresco' to 'Indian squat' to 'Western okay-ish.' After quite an adventure, we are taking a rest in Bangalore for a while, but will be hitting the road again some time soon - armed of course with wine, toilet roll, and a strong constitution!

Pass by Paparazzi

I am a fan of food, no doubt about that, and when in foreign climes - or even at home - I like to try new things and sample the best of what's around. The criteria for my restaurant choice when traveling is where they stand on the list of the World's 50 Best Restaurants, the DEFINITIVE list of what's hot and what's not around the world. It's generally an excellent barometer of taste and how deep you'll have to dig in your wallet! This year we have been lucky enough to add to our 'hits on the list' dinner at number 2, The Fat Duck in Bray, number 5, Tetsuya's in Sydney, and number 33, Rockpool in Sydney. I would like to add a couple more to that by the end of the year, bringing our total to around 10. But beware those OTHER lists, and there are many of them... The funniest and most frightening, is the Conde Nast Traveler list of the 'top 82 restaurants in the world.' Why there's 82, I have no idea, but Paparazzi restaurant at the Royal Orchid Central in Bangalore proudly advertises its presence in this list on billboards around the site. So we decided to try it last night... NEVER AGAIN! The evening began badly with us being shown to a less than desirable table and told that all the others were reserved so we couldn't move; we pressed the issue and found out that apparently people book a specific table number - what cock - and we were then moved to the table of our choice. The sparse wine list included the usual Indian wines, and about eight or so imported wines in the white - all chardonnay - and another eight of so reds. Disappointingly, they barely had any of these wines, especially the lower priced ones at around 2,000 rupees ($50) so we had to plump for a Cotes du Rhone at 3,500 (around $90 - but which would retail at home for about $20!) The music was so loud we couldn't hear ourselves speak, so on request, they turned it down, only for it to be turned up again a few minutes later, then down... and so it went on. The food was nothing to write home about; the vegetable tempura and calamari were coated with the same, half inch thick, tasteless batter which made it virtually inedible, and the chicken was cooked so well it could have doubled as a frisbee! Even the billing process was difficult as we wanted to split it two thirds, one third, on two cards... the waiter acknowledged what I said, then walked up to Tom and asked what to do! Frustrating. Our total bill - without dessert but with two bottles of good wine and the pre-included service charge - was 12,000 rupees ($300!) Whether top 50 or top 82, sadly Paparazzi and its over-inflated prices, under-whelming food, and invisible wine selection will not be making it onto any of my lists.

Bombed in Bombay

I am adding this posting as a cautionary tale of what not to do when in Bombay armed with a credit card and accompanied by willing accomplices... as we all know, the price of imported wine in India is horrendous, with the 269% tax on top of whatever mark up hotels and restaurants want to add. So it with this in mind that the Intercontinental Hotel on Marine Drive can charge Rs. 6,000 per bottle ($150 US) for Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc, a delicious wine but one which retails for around $20/$25 in the US. One would think that three fairly well educated people could quaff one bottle and then move onto something cheaper. But no. One was just not enough. Nor was two. When two acquaintances joined us, they were happy to drink the wine too, not knowing the cost... and after the third, why not a fourth. And a fifth. At that point, it was time to go home (well, not home, but onto the next bar that would serve us something hopefully less expensive). You can do the math on the bill. Suffice to say our acquaintances were less than thrilled and probably horrified but gallantly chipped in the cost of one bottle, leaving the three of us to fork out for the rest. While a couple of hundred bucks or so in the US is still a lot of money but won't break the bank, I should put this amount into context in India - the total bill was more than our monthly rent and would quite easily pay school fees for a handful of Indian children - for the year. Moral of this story? Maybe instead of a designated driver we should have an 'alcohol ambassador' who stays a few drinks behind the rest, keeps the craziness in check, and doesn't allow a couple of bottles of Cloudy Bay to cloud our judgment! Any volunteers?!?

If It Seems Too Good To Be True 2

So while we're on the subject of so-called bargains, here was the worst crime so far in India, and sacrilege, it involved alcohol! Sopexa, promoters of French food and wine, were in town to help educate the masses, and restaurant and hotel wait staff, about the joys of French wine. Of course, it's all about selling more French wine, but who cares about the marketing ploy when a glass of 'real' champagne (hard to get here and bloody expensive) was just Rs. 600 per glass (approx. $15). Quelle bargain! Excitedly, we ordered our wine and waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually the champagne was carried into the restaurant like a newborn baby; waiters gathered round, oohing and aahing, but no-one daring to open it. The Sopexa rep cautiously carried the bottle to our table but to our horreur, instead of popping and pouring, she went onto show the fledgling cork-poppers how to open the bottle - complete with Q&A's! While I don't disagree that education is needed (how many times have we watched our champagne cork being 'popped' out of the bottle by the waiter's thumb, and at least a glass full of fizz go flying onto the floor) just don't do it in front of the punters! Eventually after protestation from the thirsty punters, they poured. Little by little, the fizz dripped into the champagne flute. Then it abruptly stopped. Not just an inch short of the top of the glass, but a good half glass short. Why? Because the promotion, we were told, was for a tasting size, not a full glass. Now, call me old fashioned, but I like to taste a full glass, sometimes a bottle, when I'm drinking fizz, but moreover, nothing in the promotional materials or wine list indicated that it would be a mouthful vs. a flute full. And how did the staff, then restaurant manager, handle our complaints? By telling us something could be done tomorrow - maybe. Not good enough! We recommended the simple solution of pouring a full glass to shut us up and then change their materials to avoid other misunderstandings. It worked, but after 40 minutes, I'm afraid the offer had lost some of its sparkle for us. If Sopexa is coming to a town near you, Bon Chance!