Check out HJH–which actually means His Joseon Highness–on Jim Holt on Jonathan Nossiter on, to a large extent, the disaster wrought by Robert Parker and his pretentious and pox-palated epigones:
Here is what [Nossiter] hates: rich, fat, sweet, super-concentrated, overripe, jam-dense, high-alcohol, oaky, inky-colored, vanilla-y wines with no sense of place or identity.
And Californian customs have spread. Just as I happen to know the best midday meal you’ll get in Barcelona costs 10€ and is in a bar no one has ever heard of behind a police station about four miles from the nearest tourist, I think it’s true that if you chart quality against price for the 2-15€/bottle range of Spanish wines (I’m talking supermarket prices) you get something approaching a normal distribution, with quality increasing up to about 8€/bottle and then dropping quite sharply as you reach the segment occupied by new, fancy-labelled, undrinkable Somotano and Priorat and whatever product (this stuff may be sippable-and-spitoutable for all I know, but that’s not what wine is about).
My favourite wine clocks in at 10% (so you can have a decent drink at lunch without getting shrewish or even shirrhoshish) and costs 0.75 a litre from the supplier, who brings it down the Ebro in something resembling a Soviet muckspreader and leaves it in any large receptacle you have to hand.
El Primo c/o the commental asylum tells me that Don Simón is good stuff, but you don’t necessarily want to trust anything he says either.
- FollowTheBaldie.com review
I’m terrible at collecting testimonials, but here, with permission, is an extract from a thoughtful longer piece by a Chicago woman
- Gypsies & Sindhis & Catalonia
Hordes of otherwise quite sensible people here spend acres of time (makes sense to me) worrying about whether their sacred language
- Security guard theory of genetics, gypsy looters, and a bit of general moaning
Some walkers want to have a look round a ruined factory, so conversation must be made with the security guard. He
- The power of love
These two energetic logos are on one of my favourite day-off wanders: from the Plaça d’Espanya through the old backstreets of
- Some more sun goddesses
The other day I did a libertarian Raval tour with a particularly dangerous Californian sociologist, and we got onto Orwell’s apparent