Ken Gargett

we tend to think of NY hedge fund owners as pompous wankers but the son was a lovely guy. i met another - great friend of a friend of mine. nicest guy. very quiet and unassuming. largely retired - the best part of a billion allows that. he now just travels around the world staying at his various homes. he was telling me about them. i started laughing - he asked why. i said every one of those homes is in a world class fly fishing spot. yes, that is what he does.

that was a while back. seems like the old man was a serious fisherman. he was the one who made the dosh and bought the resorts.

i'd just flown in from a 13 1/2 hour flight, bugger all sleep. then spent ages organising luggage storage. then into town. so it was straight to bed or try this place. i did want a little bite so in i went. also, this was a part of Singapore with which i was not particularly familiar so i really did not want to go wandering around with no guarantee i'd find anything better, especially as i did not know it was as bad as it was (yes, the warning from the receptionist but it was way worse).

tiger is a very decent beer. it was truly the most, indeed, the only good thing about the meal.

this was not me. i know the futility of opening a second front by complaining to a government.

One of the joys of travel has been that almost inevitably, I get a story out of it. Usually, not a happy, rainbows and lollypops story – more of an ‘and up on your right is the pathway to Mt Doom – please mind the Orcs’ sort of story, but hey, as long as I get paid… This trip, I was getting worried. I was at the Qantas Lounge with friends, who are also on this trip, and I said that it was of great concern to me that nothing had gone wrong as yet. I think they thought I was trying to be funny. Amateurs. Sure enough, I get on and take my seat. Yet to leave Brizzy and… There was a time when being a loyal frequent flyer got you access to extra legroom seats. Fat chance now. Pay up. So I do. The bloke next to me, against the window, also had. For that, he got a bulkhead and was told under no uncertain terms was he to put anything on it, including his feet. So where would you like me to put my feet, he asked. It was a very fair question. Their answer was find somewhere. My answer would not be for family viewing. His knees were under his chin, so good luck with that, but at least you know you paid extra for the hell of it. But before I can sit back and for once, watch someone else enjoy the pleasures, there is a tiny Chinese woman yapping at me and shaking something. Ignoring her does not work. Turns out, yes inevitably, they’ve sold the seat twice. And she clearly expects me to move for her. I expect her to turn into a pineapple and be thrown in the bin, but that doesn’t happen either. We are told we have to go to the back of the plane and talk to the supervisor to sort it. I start talking to the supervisor from about twenty metres out and she never stopped yapping. The look on the supervisor’s face does not suggest we will be named customers of the month. The last time this happened – a trip that was a thousand times worse than this one, I was emanating so much rage that I suspect it could have been seen from outer space and they put me straight into Business. This time, Business is full. I am explaining that denial of the seat I have paid for will result in endless social media scorn to my millions of followers (a little creative licence never hurt anyone), that there will be lawyers involved, health is at stake and if I have to bring in the Minister for Health, I am happy to do it. Fortunately, still yapping, the Chinese woman is discovered to have completely stuffed her booking (although clearly Qantas were not to be absolved of all blame) and I have my seat. It is a very long way there, and longer back. Anyway, I am in Singapore and head back overnight tomorrow – I had the unfathomable idea that it would be nice to break up the trip rather than just go straight home, but I am catching Adam, known to many on the forum, for lunch and a cigar tomorrow, which should be great fun. Booked at an old inner city hotel that had to have been built when this place was still part of Malaya. No matter. I check breakfast details. No, we don’t do that. But when I booked… yeah, but we don’t. Spiffing! Okay, I think, a quick bite and then a very early night to try and find some sleep. There is an Indian Tandoori place that is part of the hotel, ground floor. I say to the receptionist, who is Indian, ‘any good’? Now, is there anywhere on earth where a member of the staff would tell you anything other than that their restaurant is good? She makes a face like she has bitten into a rotten grapefruit and says, ‘not really’. And let me tell you, that is surely the highest praise this place has ever had. I think, how bad could it be? Just want a quick bite. In I go. At this stage, I am the total clientele and on an extremely busy Friday evening in downtown Singapore, I really should have taken the hint. Others did eventually wander in. Okay, I'll start with a beer. “Yes Sir, what would you like?” I look down the list. ‘Kingfisher, please’. ‘Sorry Sir, we have no Kingfisher’. ‘Ah well, that is bad luck. No matter, just a Corona’. ‘Unfortunately Sir, we have run out’. ‘Not my night, is it. How about a cold Ashsi?’ “Yes Sir”. “Excellent”. “Although, I think that we might have finished our last Asahi”. It is the fricking Monty Python cheese sketch, done with beer. I am looking down a fairly length list of beers. “Okay”, I say, “why don’t we do it this way. You tell me what you have”. “Yes Sir, we have Tiger beer”. “And”? “No sir, just Tiger”. “Why don’t I have a Tiger”. He scribbles it down as though it was an inspired choice. I opt for some onion thing to kick off. I did want samosas but apparently, not tonight. Although the table that came in after me orders them and gets a plate full. I get some desiccated herb or onion thing that is eerily reminiscent of what one is left with after sweeping the kitchen floor, only I suspect the kitchen floor tastes infinitely better. Next, a potato and onion paratha. The only time that either an onion or a potato got near a paratha here was in the wording on the menu. I suspect that the dozen or so parathas are exactly the same, just given different names. and then left to soak in old cooking oil. Seriously, bookies are taking odds on which end of me is going into the porcelain throne first later tonight. Main course, I order chicken tikka. I mean, how far wrong can you go. Off they go. About two minutes later, he comes back. Apparently I will not like the tikka. Good on him for a bit of honesty, but it looks more like he simply cannot keep this pretence up. But there is a nice spinach dish. Spinach? So now we are into Fawlty Towers Gourmet Evening. One choice. Spinach surprise. No. I put my foot down. I look like Popeye? I order something else. I know not what and nor, I suspect, did they. It arrives and they have taken the path of all chefs when in doubt. Make the thing so heat-of-the-sun hot, so sphincter-twistingly, flame thrower chili hot, that one cannot taste anything. Just watch as sweat drips off in a puddle around you. There were lumps of something in it which I think were supposed to be tofu, but could just as easily have been fish. Singapore now has two of the worst meals I have ever eaten in their hall of shame. In fairness, the place has some if the best food in the world. I just seem to miss it. Last time, the old “scar the insides of his throat” trick involved a peppercorn dish. They failed to mention that the several hundred peppercorns in each serve were still attached to the stems from the tree. It was three days before my tongue could feel my teeth. I call for the bill. The table next to me gets a surprise when their bill arrives and they are still halfway through dinner (I am doing them a favour). The table behind me gets just as much of a surprise when their bill arrives along with their mains. Another table orders a couple of beers and gets, yes you guessed it, their bill. I, on the other hand, can’t even get them to acknowledge my existence. Finally, it arrives. And this is clearly a clever ploy. Charge so much that no one ever comes back and they can blame that on the pricing, not on the toxic cesspool masquerading as food which they serve. Still, although I am not home yet and do not want to jinx it, if this is the worst that happens this trip, I'll take it.

sensational. and a good fish.

ta guys. and a special thanks to John S, i assume, for fixing the extremely frustrating sideways photos.

there was. plenty of things not covered here. some robert weil. also Clare Riesling. various themes. part of it was a judging for the tastingbook.com best wine in the world. then the second oart, a look at pairs. hence why you see a lot of the wines with two from the same maker.

why? you want to introduce them to your grandkids?

a few more wines. there were plenty more but this will give you an idea. the picks - too many... but very hard to go past the 1945 Latour. 47 Cheval Blanc also incredible - fans of the movie Sideways, will remember Paul G drinking that. 61 Pamer and 61 Latour also stars. the mag of 82 Margaux stunning but sadly the magnum of 59 Petrus a touch of tree bark. the 61 Margaux completely stuffed. a number of the Napa Cabs were stunning. Screaming Eagle, Caymus, Bryant, Blankiet, Roam. the 90 La Chappelle is always amazing, as is the 90 Grange and both starred. the 21 Hill of Grace amazing. the 57 Tokaji Essencia wonderful. always like Masseto. the JV between penfolds and Jaboulet with Grange and L Chapelle from 21 was the best i'd seen. perhaps the most extraordinary was brought along by Dirk Neipoort from Neipoort ports, a bottle of 1927 Colheita (you can read the story on the handwritten label) made by his grandfather from the 1927 vintage, bottled in the 40s. it was sublime. definitely worth the hell of flying around the globe.

forget this pair of champers - Krug 1959 ad 1961.

caught up with mates for their annual (ish) tasting in Finland. i spent hours trying to make these the correct way up but they seem to revert overnight. a few magnums the first night and some cracking champagnes. then we got into some really serious champagnes. the pick, the 1961 Dom. if you a fan if champagne, you will know this guy - Richard Juhlin. world's most famous authority on champagne.

we play the giants at home. despite the giants having taken our mantle as the NFC East's steaming heap of excrement, and despite us making the NFC championship game last year, i keep seeing us as underdogs and giants as favourites. it really does take a long time to wash away the synder stink. love that dallas is an utter dumpster fire but not too much hopefully. last in the East is fine but we do not want them with a top draft pick.

and so say all of us!!