Jamie's Italian

Living in a village can be strange. Period. It’s a microcosm of the bigger outside world and where everything is roughly 10 times more emphasised than it probably should be – everyone knows everyone and everything, is the way it seems to work.

My wife had her birthday last Monday and another friend in the village had her birthday a few days after and before we knew it over a few glasses of Gigondas Grand Montmirail 2005 one Sunday lunch we’d agreed to head off to Jamies Italian to mark both occasions. 

So, the village being the village, with the grape vine working 10 times more effectively than it probably should (Facebook playing it’s part as always) 10 of us headed over to Bath to Jamie’s – 10 being a useful number as you can only book a table if you have more than 8 in the party, even though it did feel a little like the Jolly Boys Margate Beano from Only Fools and Horses for those of you who can remember that far back..

Having worked in marketing for many years, I was as interested in how Jamie Oliver’s brand was working in the restaurant, as I was the food. He’s a part of our collective culture, we all feel like we know him personally and he’s been indirectly responsible for many a decent dinner party over the last 10 years. All of us were looking forward to going to ‘Jamie’s’ – what a brand!

The restaurant in Bath looks small as you enter but stretches way back – it has the same look and feel of the Jamie Oliver books and television programmes – that has been pretty consistent since the Naked Chef first hit in 1999 – it all felt familiar even though we’d not been there before.

So, putting the brand to one side, we looked at the menu – we opted for the antipasti planks to kick start the meal – the Italian cheeses working particularly well, with buffalo mozzarella, pecorino and an excellent chilli jam. My choice of pasta for the next course had been scratched from the menu (the linguini alle vongole) as it had sold out (it was near 10pm after all) but I’d already had an alternative lined up – sausage pappardelle – slow cooked Italian sausage, tomatoes, red wine and parmesan with crunchy herby breadcrumbs. So, having changed direction down the page I changed my planned wine route as well.

Working at Yapp Brothers, my knowledge of French wine has naturally grown (although I’m the first to admit I still have plenty more to learn) but I decided to transfer what I knew I liked in French wine to the Italian list, by grape variety (I know terrior plays a major role but on the fly this approach seemed to make sense..) I’d chosen beef for my main dish (beef carpaccio and rocket salad) so opted for a bottle of Shiraz Di Sicilia 2007 Villa Francesca – in the Yapp list I’d have chosen an Alain Graillot Crozes Hermitage 2007 so I was hoping for some similar tastes to match with my beef. The Shiraz Di Sicilia was similar in style and suitably peppery, perhaps not up to Mr Graillot’s standards but enjoyable all the same.

It was well past 10 and our 10 were the last to leave – the restaurant works on all levels, a place to enjoy all things “Jamie”, it’s relaxed and not at all expensive – I think we’ll be going back at some point soon – we might even go for lunch and indoctrinate our small children to this omnipresent brand!

A bon taing bon vin

I’m not sure about the biology or psychology of the weird male collecting gene but I definitely possess it and can’t remember a time when I didn’t. Interestingly it has very little to do with material value (although that can creep into it) and more to do with bringing order out of chaos and creating sets of things that belong together. While I’ve always dismissed train spotters as a bunch of sad losers (but somehow not as sad as bus spotters) I do (sort of) understand where they’re coming from. In my youth I collected comics and kept them in plastic bags in issue order and records (limited editions, picture sleeves and coloured vinyl were all sought after – so lots of fun there) and as an adult I’ve progressed on to corkscrews, wine and (inexplicably) the branded stickers from bunches of bananas.

Tu me plais

My friend Roland, who is a respected, soon to turn 50, secondary school history teacher collects bricks (like the banana stickers there’s value there), Coke bottles (from places you didn’t know had heard of Coke) and vintage bicycles, so he’s definitely a fellow sufferer. Although we have no desire whatsoever to pursue each others interests there is a mutual appreciation. If I found a good brick or Coke bottle I’d definitely try and acquire them on Roland’s behalf and he’d certainly reciprocate if a fine corkscrew crossed his path. Both my sons show signs of inheriting the defect as evidenced by an obsessional (and costly) Pokémon card acquisition phase and a casual interest in banana stickers.

This blog comes to you at the dawn of a new collection the seed of which germinated overnight. I’ve always been a fan of US State car registration strap-lines as they succinctly proclaim what a whole region is about. New Hampshire’s – ‘Live Free or Die’ is a classic, Florida’s ‘Sunshine State’ is more obvious as is Maine’s ‘Vacationland’. It occurred to me in the still of the night that various French wine appellations have had similar attempts at distilling their raison d’être into a strap-line. There’s Muscadet – tu me plais, as found on my Dad’s fridge, Côte Rôtie’s immodest Légende d’un Terroir and Hermitage’s famous A Bon Taing Bon Vin. Admittedly a measly 3 examples isn’t much of a collection but it’s a start. It is a platform on which to build. By this time next year I might have hundreds! Nurse! Nurse! 

Beaucoup damour

Since writing this article I’ve discovered the following additions:

Gigondas – Un Trait d’Esprit sur Votre Table  

Quincy – Beaucoup d’Amour

Sancerre – donne moi ton secret

I’ve also met a woman who collects banana stickers so maybe it’s not a weird male gene after all….

Château Grillet

Sadly many of France’s great wines are beyond the everyday drinking budget of the majority of us domiciled tax paying mortals and there can’t even be many M.P.’s left with the chutzpah to put a bottle on expenses.

Château Grillet is necessarily costly as it is made on steep hand-tended slopes, in a miniscule (3.8 hectare) monopole appellation, from the low-yielding, capricious Viognier grape, in a country that invented the 35 hour week, but once you sample a drop you experience a brand new taste sensation that will forever after shape your palate.

A couple of years ago a well meaning pilot friend of mine pulled the strings to have my ticket upgraded to first class on a long haul flight back from L.A. While I used to sit in blissful ignorance in economy I can now envy the pampered potentates beyond the curtain with a new level of intensity. We should all be aware of what we are missing out on!

I beseech you to cash in that ISA, raid the kids piggy banks or cancel your National Trust membership and indulge yourselves in the vinous miracle that is Château Grillet. Joking apart, the recent vintage run from 2004 through to 2007 has been astounding. All four vintages exhibit the wine’s exceptional, haunting mineral bouquet and multi-faceted palate with notes of dried fruit, nuts, cream and caramel preceding a long, elegant, dry finish. Take care though, this is one white wine that certainly merits decanting and can take an hour or more to open out in the glass.

There is a good case for savouring such legendary wines without the distraction of food but classic accompaniments are sweetbreads, roast veal, chicken with truffles, boiled lobster, turbot in champagne sauce and foie gras. Well-heeled patronne Isabelle Barantin favours drinking her own wine when it is about 15 years old but I think the current purple batch of outstanding, youthful vintages will provide more rewarding drinking right now than anything from the (much patchier)1990′s.  

Remember we are not looking for the exuberant, up-front tropical fruit flavours of neighbouring Condrieu here we are looking for elegance, finesse, restraint even, and Château Grillet delivers these in spades – so treat yourself to a bottle or remain forever ignorant.

Bistrot Bruno Loubet

For the benefit of anyone who has been off planet or hibernating Bruno Loubet is back in Blighty with a bang after a 10 year self-imposed exile in Brisbane. Now ensconced at the chic but très sympathique Zetter Hotel on Clerkenwell Road, Monsieur Loubet is doing what he does best viz. sensibly-priced bistro classics uplifted by an inspired personal flair. Bruno’s great gifts lie in getting the basics right (attentive, well-informed service, good freshly-baked bread (in a flower pot!), generous table spacing, no cynical table turning) and knowing just how far to embellish a dish without overdoing it.

A short, confident menu of 7 starters and 7 mains (see below), plus a couple of specials, left one spoilt for choice and our lunch party of 3 rather greedily invented an absent friend in order to satisfy our curiosity. ‘Revised’ Lyonnaise salad features batons of de-boned, deep fried pig’s trotter (as opposed to ear), grated (then fried) potato, poached egg and pancetta. This is the salad for people (like me) who don’t love salad and is sure to become a much demanded mainstay. Mauricette sails (named after Bruno’s mother) were also exemplary, as was beetroot ravioli, but the tub-thumping, show-stealing starter was a Guineau fowl boudin blanc with leek fondue and chervil sauce. Delicate of texture, punchy of flavour and beautifully presented this is Michelin star quality cuisine at knock-down prices. A blameless Cai dei Frati Laguna from a modest but soon to be extended wine list met with general approval being mid-weight, oily, unoaked and affordable.

 Our mains continued to show blinding form. Quail and pistachio Dodine again illustrated technical expertise and imagination. Beef Daube, in its own cast iron pot, was bien classique and Pan-fried breast of wood pigeon with a quinoa and giblet sauce was also superbly executed. A brooding Côte Rôtie 2001 from Jasmin was very fairly priced at £57 and was a fine match for our meaty main courses. Fully sated we eschewed desserts but the coffee was strong, dark and delicious and promptly served as by this stage we anticipated it would be.

My strong advice is to book a table promptly as queues must build and prices will probably increase accordingly. We’ll be back very soon. It doesn’t get much better than this at these prices. 9.5/10