My Birthday; a Long Weekend; Relaxing with the Obligatory Present

Last week, on Thursday came a day which like most people, start to pretend to forget, but inside hope everyone remembers.  It was my birthday.

I'm not shy of my age, although I do have to admit, that I have to use some quick mental arithmetic to get the answer.  Whenever asked, 33 doesn't roll off the tongue (nor did 32 until it changed), no, inside my brain makes a quick calculation that 1979 gives me 21 years to the turn of the century, and we're 12 years inside already.  Why can't my short term memory handle such a figure for a year at least?  No wonder my old man claimed the 30's just disappeared.

I don't usually do the whole card thing to be honest, as it bugs me that people can do really well financially in making people feel obliged to buy them.  This has gotten me into a spot of bother on occasion with Mrs. Banks in the past, but no more will be said of that, and let it be suffice to say one has learnt his lesson... and was happy with his two cards from his two favourite ladies. 

However, I didn't arrange my own card at work, so I wasn't too bothered to not get one there, but working where I do, and with those I know, it was best to sort out my own birthday gathering in the office.  I decided the best move was for everyone to eat my home towns staple diet for lunch... fish and chips.  It took some organising, and the queue at the Golden Union Fish Bar in Soho weren't too pleased as a group of us were stood there ordering food for 15 people.  At least it was nice and fresh, and the service was brilliant to get it all out and ready in perfect time for all to enjoy and feel stuffed for the rest of the day.

At home I got a couple of nice presents.  There was the paperback crime novel to make the commuting easier; the obligatory bottle of Single Malt; and a rather quirky present in a Garlic Roaster.  This was something I had never seen, nor heard of before, but when I read 'Rotissoire A Ail' on the front of it, I knew I was dealing with something really interesting.  The thought behind the present is great.  As I haven't baked any bread for a while, I now have to make some decent garlic bread using this roaster, as well as some selective seasoning.  I had read a recipe for roasted garlic in the past, and the notion of giving it sharp blast in the oven for half hour, then spreading the contents on your toast to keep the vampires at bay is most excellent.  I will keep you abreast of it's rewards in due course.

I must admit, I do love the box as well.

Julia took me out on Saturday night for a meal at the Spread Eagle in Greenwich.  I enjoyed myself thoroughly.  Due to the huge amount of rain we've had (and being from Grimsby, I call it spitting) there were few people interested in going out on a Saturday night.  So, there were few people inside the restaurant, and it gave a lovely quiet ambiance about it.  The decor was in a fashion of a huge art collection with a local maritime theme, which I liked, and the food was nicely presented, and was excellent throughout.  Julia even said the chocolate fondant she ate had now just eclipsed the one we ate on our honeymoon in a restaurant in Kenmare, Co.Kerry.  She knows her chocolate fondants.  Trust me.

Well, I sit here reflecting back on all this food, unmentioned wine, lovely presents I got last week.  I wont bring up the nasty self inflicted exhaustion, taking Olive swimming, and three year old birthday party I had to endure on Saturday.  No, I'll sit back, conjure up a few more words, and sip on the obligatory malt (a Balvenie 12 year old Doublewood, if you were interested).  

Supping on this nice dram, I got tempted to partake in a little light reading, and catch up on some tasting notes by way of a couple of whisky reviewing sites.  I enjoyed reading that this particular Balvenie has 'an undesirable, nay 'orrible finish'.  Is that an oxymoron?  I was also drawn to reading some notes that were written for a bottle I spent hours, days and weeks to seek out three years ago for a particular birthday (you may be able to guess if your maths isn't so hot).  This bottle was an independent Glen Scotia 1974, 30 Years Old.  It sits in a lovely box, and I am ashamed to say is nearly finished.  It should be finished by now, leaving what is left isn't doing it any favours, but it was mighty fine when I first opened it. I. Just. Can't. Let. Go.

I leave you with a pair of lovely descriptions for the 30 year old, which aided me in my choice of selection those three years back:

• Nose:        Delicate, floral.  Orange blossom.  Apricot and almond pie cooking in the oven.  Develops on toffee.   A peat echo.
• Palate:       Caressing, luscious, rich.  Peach Melba.  Floral honey.  Pear drop.
• Finish:        Smooth, sensuous, deliciously lingering.  Spicy dryness.
• Comment:  What a lovely nectar.  Great fruit and cream combination.

• Nose:        Buttery yet oily. Complex notes of car mechanic workshop, coconut oil, black olives in brine. With water, goats' cheese, smoke and candied peel.
• Palate:       The oiliness shows best here giving a mouth coating texture. Lemon, light spices. Ever so slightly salty. Pure flavours.
• Finish:       That salty cheese again.
• Comment:  Fantastic balance, but uncompromising.

You don't get that on every blog.

Sláinte