Every now and again I am lucky enough to be
extended an unusual invite. One which
immerses me in a pool of talent and knowledge
crafted over generations.
What better way to arrive for a dinner built
around the wines consumed by James Bond in
“Goldfinger” than an Aston Martin.
Is it a wise idea to hand a loaded rifle to a
drunken (albeit very well dressed) man? If the
wine is sublime and the suit is snazzy, and of
course its all within the right context, the
answer is always YES!
I try to be generous. I skip a few days here and
there. I don’t count them. I’m sure there are
days when I was sick, or when there was
no gin. In the interest of fairness, I should
shave a few days off each year for that.
Considering how much bubbly (and specifically
Krug) I’ve guzzled down in the last few years,
months, weeks, days... I should know a little
bit more about the special suds, but alas
my expertise in the subject is somewhat
limited to just consumption.
Old school also translates better with cocktails. Unless you have a Scottsman Nugget Ice Maker or a Snoopy Snow Cone Machine from the 80’s, the best crushed ice for highball and swizzle cocktails is made by hand in a Lewis Bag.
Getting to Biserno is an exercise in orienteering. And not just because of the dirt roads, streams and cypress lined tracks which lead you there. Because its not on the GPS.
What were the bright young things
wearing in Miami?
duncan quinn bespoke, of course.