First Fair Friday I went to the French Wine producers fair. It's principally for small producers who don't get supermarket or even wine trade deals to market directly to the public.
My first impression when I walked in was that it was huge, there were 130 stalls there and with the best will in the world it was impossible to even consider trying to get around all of them.
So as I've been impressed with the younger vintners around I decided to go for Languedoc wines as they seem to have all the action lately. Until a decade or so ago this region has largely been churning out gutrot Vin de Pays. However, without the mark of quality, it meant that the land was cheap. so innovative winemakers have been going in and been trying new techniques and really owrking the wine. A lot of organic wine is there and even biodynamic is getting a foothold.
Even restricting myself like that I must have tried the best part of 70 odd wines. Aside from just slowly getting tipsy on breathed in fumes my palate just stopped registering anything after a bit.
Nevertheless I ended up buying 9 bottles (more than I should but....) and have strained my arm bringing it home.
Second Fair The Royal horticultural society have a garden a few miles away and they held a chilli festival. So naturally, as chilli is a primary part of my diet, I had to go. It was small but quite good fun. I bought some seeds for sowing next year but the great find was a chilli sauce that is very reminiscent of a fondly remembered curry shop from Manchester, the infamous and feared Plaza. Of the muliple biriani strengths, mild, medium, hot, suicide, killer, cremation and cahrlie's special. This sauce falls somewhere between suicide and killler, which suits me fine. Ah, happy memories.
Third fair Rochford beer festival. I only went for a few pints..honest.....ho hum. headache today. keep to the Fen Causeway
Two mouthfuls, anyway, the second to confirm that the first was really that foul...it was probably my second mistake to order the mild and be able to taste the ingredients...
Yeah. Probably he didn't mind killing off the wusses with food poisoning.
I was given a charlie's special one night when I complained about the weakness of the suicide I'd had the week before. He didn't sit over me, but did come by a lot. I thought I did very well to eat a third of it, but I must have lost a couple of stone in sweat eating it.
And I used to drive a lot in those days so I was often stone cold sober when I had them. They were so hot that the first few mouthfulls would make your eyes cross and cause a dixxying rush of blood to the head.
Mind you, the next day invariably gave new definitions of pain. I must have been deranged to go back so often, but... youth eh ? keep to the Fen Causeway
