M O R E T H A N O N E G L ASS O F W I N E A DAY BY AJ LINN
Today we are awash with advice about health and how to maintain a satisfactory balance between what we think is not really good for us and what definitely is not. We try to avoid the diet pundits – whether it’s the radio, TV, printed media or social networks – because the worst sort of headline, disgracefully overemployed, runs along the lines of, “What will happen to your liver if you drink more than a glass of wine a day?”, or, “Your left ventricular looks like this after a festive meal”. The best thing to do is ignore such matters, rather as we would ignore an invitation to see what our feet would look like if we didn’t cut our toenails for a year. How many times does the subject of diet and/or healthy food versus unhealthy food crop up in a conversation, usually at the exact moment when we are eating and drinking? “These fried peppers are delicious but, oh dear, how fattening”, or, “I adore Sauternes, but I am sure it puts on kilos”. Nevertheless, there was a time when it was unknown to make comments relating to the health effects of what we were eating or drinking and, even better, the mere idea that the wrong diet could in any way be prejudicial to our health and wellbeing had not occurred to anyone. Rather in the same way that smoking was not linked to lung cancer and respiratory ailments until centuries after it had become an accepted social habit, it appears that sitting down to a seven-course meal with different wines for each dish was in no way thought of as being anything but normal, and indeed a healthy way of living. Admittedly, the acts of eating and drinking in the 15th century were about as gross as it gets. When James I spent a day and a night at Houghton in 1617, the principal meal provided by his host’s kitchen consisted of what were described as “hot dishes”, notably boiled capon, chicken, ducks, breast of veal, haunch of venison, turkey, swan, goose, beef, pork, tripe, mince and venison. The following “cold course” saw mutton, rabbits, tongue, herons, curlew and veal served in pies. The “second course” started off with six quail (for the king), partridge, chicken, artichoke pie, curlew roast, pease buttered, rabbits, ducks, plovers, red deer pie, pigs’ ears, hot heron roast, lamb roast, gammons of bacon, pear tart, palates of grease, dried tongue, turkey pie, pheasant pie, dried hog’s cheek and cold turkey chicks. This selection would be served at breakfast, lunch and dinner with hardly any variation. The drink would be ale as nothing else was available. Any sign of illness or even gastric problems were treated with even more food, often accompanied by bloodletting and the application of leeches. Fast forward to the first half of the last century, and it is hard to imagine how anyone of the upper classes could possibly have lived better. A typical
example would be a private dinner at Michael Berens’ house in Hanover Terrace in 1961. It had the simplest menu imaginable. The three courses were fillets of sole, roast partridge, and cherries and cream. The wines were Pol Roger champagne 1948, Hochheimer Geiersberg 1953, Grands Echézeaux 1952 (magnum), Schloss Reinhartshausener Hattenheimer Wisselbrun Kabinett Gold Beeren Auslese 1949, Nuits St George 1919, marc de Chablis and marc de Mersault. A normal business meal for those engaged in the wine trade makes us wonder why on earth we look strangely at someone who orders a second glass of wine in today’s prudish world. Back then a routine luncheon may only have been three courses, but the wines would overwhelm anyone engaged in the same trade today. Ronald Avery’s lunch for five colleagues at the Hanstown Club started with a magnum of champagne, two French whites and four reds: a total of seven wines. Then they went back to their offices. No statistics are available, but it would be fascinating to know how long these gourmet gentlemen lived for, and what illnesses eventually took them to their final resting places. Nor has subsequent research uncovered the likelihood of anyone during this period adopting the sensible habit of taking an after-lunch siesta.
FINE DINING: MUMTAZ IN MARBELLA Most “Indian” restaurants are not Indian at all but rather Pakistani, although the average fan of the continent’s cuisine never appears too bothered about this detail. Misleadingly, what are in practice Pakistani establishments are called Indian by their owners. Mumtaz is a 100 per cent authentic Indian restaurant, and the selection of dishes on offer is probably among the best you will ever find. The classic bread oven produces Roti, Pharata and Nan in several forms, and the lady responsible for the hand-made delicacies has been at Mumtaz since it opened, as indeed has the manager, Juan. Salads, vegan, vegetarian, fish, meat, classic hors d’oeuvres and desserts – they are all here, together with a comprehensive wine list with reasonable prices. As a historic detail, Mumtaz is the longest-established restaurant in Puerto Banús. Benabola Casa, No.7 Puerto José Banús Tel. (+34) 952 812 090
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