How Do You Peel?

While obliviously part satisfying our nanny state five a day fruit thing, a friend of mine alerted me to the fact that monkeys peel bananas rather differently to humans.

Our hairy cousins attack the stubby end of the banana and use the more obvious stalk as a handle. I took this on board and tried the method in the privacy of my own open plan office.
A light pinch and the skin fell away, seamlessly undressing the now self conscious fruit. It was like a brain shift moment. A mundane task that I have been performing all my life had been turned on its head, and replaced by a far superior method. Beating my chest with delight I headed to the bathroom to check that I hadn't spontaneously started growing large quantities of body hair.
For a monkey to mock my lifetime of considered peeling was difficult, but I am not too proud to take a lifestyle tip or two from our primate relatives.

Undressing a wine and releasing the genie out of the bottle is now turning into a bland, corkscrew-free screwing action more than a wholesome pull. It's like a one night stand, not a meaningful relationship.
You used to be able to get to know the contents while coercing the bloated bark with plenty of skill flurry and technique. No matter how cheap and nasty the wine you still want to be rewarded with a pop!
It has been scientifically proven that the packaging of products can physically effect the perception of taste. Not good news for screw tops.
Wine is intrinsically linked to its glass and cork home. It would be a great shame to see this gradually being replaced with the adolescent look of a cheap alcopop.

Pocket Sprung Naan

Last night I dined at a newly opened local Indian restaurant. If I am to be entirely honest, for me, the single most enjoyable offering at a curry house is the Naan bread.

The Naan is something that you just cannot reproduce properly at home. You need generations of experience and a traditional tandoor oven to get it right, thus it is a source of the joy when eating out.
This particular flat bread offering was exemplary. I tore a generous chunk out of the Peshwari Naan and it floated up like a contented cumulus cloud. My mouth rested on a deliciously comforting individually pocket sprung mattress, dissolving into a subtle perfumed haze.

There are alot of upmarket Indian restaurants opening which poses a problem for the customer who would expect to accompany the pricey menu with wine, not lashings of lager.
The loud belligerent spices tend to work against the modest subtleties of wine. Add too much tannin and you get major palate peril.
Apparently bulldozing a Phaal with the full bodied reds like Chianti can work, as does Pinot Noir with milder offerings. Sauvignon Blanc is good with very light flavours. Fizzy wine would probably cause your stomach to feel like you had drunk a gallon of coke along with several sachets of 'Space Dust' (popping candy). CO2 has denied me the curry finishing line many a time, usually derived from lager.

I ended up with pleasantly flat tap water as I was driving.

Painful Protrusions

Following the sun, I found myself visiting friends in Brighton last weekend..well technically I was in Hove.

Hove offers welcome shelter from the crowds strewn over the Brighton intra-pier beaches, which were gradually coagulating into a rather large lobster thermador.

Once established on the warming masseuse like pebbles, the sea began to look extremely inviting. I ventured in to ankle depth, which at first was refreshing, but moments later it seemed to take on the characteristics of a large bowl of liquid nitrogen. Jumping back to the beach I looked down, relieved to still find my foot intact.
If I had slipped and taken the plunge I might have ended up like Buck Rogers and woken out of my cryogenic state 500 years later. I would have been greeted by plastic pebbles from all the pollution, a mutant strain of ruling class, rapidly evolved, thoroughly articulate seagulls, and even more draconian parking attendants.
Either that or shipped inland to be devoured as a dish at the Fat Duck in Bray.

The one advantage of the cold sea was the possibility of dangling our bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc from a groyne to keep it nice and chilled. I am uncertain that it would have been a popular suggestion for those without intimate knowledge of sea defences. Understandable confusion as both are unsightly and painful under foot. Incidentally the word groyne effectively means 'pigs snout' derived from the French/Latin. The irony is that without the ugly protrusions the beaches wouldn't be there at all.

A good 'green' man-made solution to on-beach wine cooling might be an electric wine cooler attached to a parasol parading a nice selection of the latest in portable solar panels. A slightly nerdy but nevertheless carbon friendly approach. Electric coolers are great as white wine is terrible too warm or too cold, and you can set the exact drinking temperature on the device.

I am normally not a Sauvignon Blanc fan, as I liken it to sticking your head into a flower bed while swallowing battery acid. I just cannot stomach the cheaper stuff, unlike many other grape varieties. Up the quality and price alot and it then transforms into a very pleasant refreshing summer wine.
The bottle on the beach was delicious.

The Sting

Finally the thick inky molasses that envelop the winter months are receding. Spring is here, time to put aside that Christmas jumper and embrace the light.

With this change of season come a variety of insects, the most annoying of which being the wasp.

I am no friend of this most aggressive of creatures, our relationship beginning on a sore note when I was stung by a hibernating queen on Christmas day in church while still a toddler. As a result of this I am now prone to involuntary dances when around wasps.
It is with this in mind that I was in Norfolk last week enjoying lunch outside with friends, when a rather large ASBO ridden hornet type creature joined the meal, uninvited I might add, and started sipping my glass of Cabernet. I felt a little as though its deserved a drink on behalf of its relatives who are employed by some vineyards to control the pests that attack grape vines.

It emerged a bit tipsy and started to make a nuisance of itself calling in a few friends to compound the issue. The other wasps clearly with more refined palates from many gate- crashed meals, seemed to think that pate and chutney were an important precursor to the wine.
At this point I remembered hearing that holding your breath is a good defence to limit the CO2 which is irresistible to wasps, but reminded myself that death is marginally less appealing than a sting. Past experience telling me that praying was futile, I started a mild form of my dance as I was in polite company. I was pleasantly surprised to see others joining in.

Eventually the now drunken marauders buzzed off, this time without a fight, probably weirded out by the strange spontaneous uncool strutting.