Noshtalgia
'Noshtalgia ' is the remembrance of meals past; reminiscence about special occasions involving wine and food and friends. Now I'm not necessarily talking about gourmet waffle, noshtalgia can also range from the grand to the bizarre, to the awful, the weird and the hideous. Some standout nosh-ups still retrievable from the memory banks are here outlined.

Afghani eggs

A dusty roadside teahouse just outside of Kabul. Fried eggs are served still sizzling in the aluminium bowls they've been fried in. On the side are large discs of pita bread, cups of sweet black chai (tea), little bowls of crusted yoghurt, so acid as to almost strip the enamel from your teeth. The unspeakable fragrance of open drains wafts through the open door.

Neolithic sausage rolls – Not!

The night train to Paris. Rather than eat the awful food on the way to Calais we shopped at the Harrods Food Halls for provisions. Settling in on the ferry in the middle of the night, surrounded by bleary-eyed peasants eating neolithic sausage rolls and drinking dishwater from polystyrene cups, we opened our Harrods hamper (paper carrier bag actually). Swiss Army Knifed slices of crusty baguette, ham off the bone, a Harrods pork pie, a few wedges of Red Windsor cheese – all washed down with a Harrods own bottling of a Bordeaux merlot poured into Harrods disposable party cups. Groaning travellers seated nearby began to faint as we tucked in – but we soldiered on, valiantly. (We did the same on the way back – this time the hamper was courtesy of Fauchon).

Heavy metal oysters

In Hong Kong we visited Lau Fau Shan to try the famous oysters. They were big and fibrous, you could eat them smoked, braised, dried and stir-fried. We sampled them all – washed down with Tsing-Tao (pron. 'ching dow') beer. Left me feeling slightly bilious - until we visited the nearby toilets – when I became totally bilious. Next week there was a health warning in the local paper about heavy metals in the local bivalves. I resolved to stay away from airport metal detectors for a while and crossed Lau Fau Shan off the must-visit-again list.

Three stars - with compliments

Still in Hong Kong - the Mandarin Hotel's Pierrot restaurant had as guest chef Marc Haeberlin of the Michelin three-starred restaurant L'Auberge de l'Ill. We tried his seven course degustation menu of (please forgive the translation): Turbotin and salmon salad vinaigrette with a caviar sauce, Fresh goose liver with vegetables in a madeira sauce, Scallops flavoured with thyme, Chicken breast with sweetbreads, leeks and a truffle sauce, Selection of French cheeses, Cherries poached in a Bordeaux red wine sauce with cinnamon ice cream, Coffee, and, as I remember, a Californian chardonnay and an Australian cabernet. Frightfully expensive of course but worth every Hong Kong dollar. As it turned out, we were the only guests who sent compliments to the chef. He came and chatted to us over complimentary cognacs and signed a menu – which is before me as I write.

Scrawny curried chicken

I was really looking forward to my first curry in New Delhi. Having just travelled overland from London I recalled with salivation the excellent curries I'd enjoyed in London and Manchester. I went into a restaurant near the main drag and ordered the chicken curry. The bird was scrawny, tasteless and indigestible. A local I spoke to told me that obtaining good meat-based produce was always a problem and that I should try the many Hindu vegetarian restaurants in the area. Happily, I took his advice.

Sardines and vegemite

Sharing a crummy bed-sit with a mate from Melbourne in Earls Court in the late '60s, we were down on our luck. His dear mum had sent him a care parcel from Oz and on a miserable and bitterly cold London day around New Year we feasted on canned sardines on toast and Vegemite sandwiches and a couple of cans of Fosters. Depressing.

Gummy spag. bol.

The same mate and I, when we had a few quid, would dine at a Knightsbridge trattoria. We always had their spaghetti bolognaise as the gum leaves in the sauce reminded us of the eucalyptus bushland where we grew up. When we became a little more sophisticated we discovered that they were in fact bay leaves.

Ageing man drinks old vino

On my birthday some years back we went to a BYO in Melbourne, I can't remember the food but we took along a bottle of the magnificent '46 Seppelts Sparkling 'Burgundy' and a bottle of the '45 Moulin Touchais – a Loire white of immense staying power. The chef, naturally, had to join us for a glass or two.

First growth doesn't cut mustard

Then there was dinner at a long forgotten Melbourne restaurant, 'Moustache'. A couple of friends were down from Sydney and we took the 1970 Brown Brothers Noble Riesling and the first-growth 1973 Chateau Mouton Rothschild. The riesling is still remembered by one of the diners as the best sweet white she's ever had. The Mouton – which cost a fortune - was light-bodied, acidic, thin and tannic – a great disappointment.

Gourmet soldiers

We were in the army, camped up the bush somewhere with some misbegotten sergeant bossing us around, as they do. Tucker was army rations – when a package was opened everyone used to go for the tubes of sweetened condensed milk – and suck them dry. Sergeant X, who I believe had been in the Hitler Youth movement, ordered me and a mate to cook tea. We smashed the rock hard ration dog biscuits into crumbs, used them to coat slices of canned corned beef and fried them in rancid tinned butter. Sluiced it down with strong black billy tea brewed with a couple of dried gum leaves in it. Everyone, strangely, thought it was delicious.

BBQ tuna, coconut oil and Bintang

Walking along the beach near what is now the Nusa Dua resort in Bali we met a villager carrying a large tuna he'd just caught. He sold it to us for a few rupiahs. We built a fire of dry palm leaves and twigs in a hole in the sand, rubbed the fish down with a little of the coconut oil we were using to acquire a sun tan (aka melanoma) and barbecued the thing whole (with the head but without the guts). There was a lean-to warung up the beach and we walked there to buy a few bottles of Bintang. By the time we got back the fish was cooked. The skin was blackened and a bit sandy but with our fingers we pulled off hot gobbets easily enough and the five of us reckoned we'd had a good lunch.

Chili poets

Early days in Torremolinos, the Fat Black Pussy Cat served ferociously hot chili con carne topped with chopped, killer raw onions. Pink Spanish 'champagne' accompanied, so did Afro-American beat poets and folk guitarists.

T-bone with a fried egg

In pubs around Melbourne in the early '60s the highlight of dining was a t-bone steak served with chips, limp lettuce leaves, slices of canned beetroot, a slice of orange (that nobody ever ate), quarters of tired tomato and a dressing of salad cream made from sweetened condensed milk. I should add that the steak always had a fried egg on top. To start the meal you sprinkled the steak and chips with tired white pepper, plenty of salt, tomato sauce and Worcestershire sauce and dipped a chip or two into the yolk. Yum.

Tuscan cheese on toast

A villa in Greve in Chianti. Our hosts, the Anichinis, invited us to dinner and offered an entrée of what looked like grilled cheese on toast. Absolutely delicious, and my ravenous nine year old daughter scoffed three or four pieces in a couple of minutes. I asked Signora Anichini for the recipe. 'First you lightly grill the bread, then drizzle a little olive oil on it, then you add generous shavings of fresh white truffles..."

But enough feasting. And many of the above dishes are off the menu as I pursue a no-meat, no-fish lifestyle these days. In another column I'll touch on the American phenomenon of 'white trash cooking'. I believe an example of our very own equivalent is called 'Apricot chicken'. It involves pieces of semi-thawed chicken braised quickly in a pot with apricot nectar and a packet of dried chicken noodle soup. Usually served semi-raw to relatives and other unwelcome guests.

The 'Little Optimum' – Mediaeval global warming
Leafing through the fascinating book, The Year 1000, I came across the following snippet, 'The Normans' Domesday survey of 1086 listed no less than 38 vineyards in England... the years 950 to 1300 were marked by noticeably warmer temperatures than we experience today... Meteorologists describe this mediaeval warm epoch as the 'Little Optimum'... [when] London enjoyed the climate of the Loire Valley...' By Robert Lacey and Danny Danziger, paperback, published by Abacus, London, 2000.

Tastings
Pegasus Bay Riesling 2002. Around $29. Cellar to 2008. 17.5/20

Canterbury, New Zealand. Pale gold. Fragrant lime flower nose. Generous in the mouth with bags of sweet grapiness. Finishes medium dry with light sherbet-like acidity. Quite unlike the bone-dry tang of Clare valley styles but very likeable.

Redman Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2000. Around $26. Cellar to 2010. 18/20

Tasted masked at the Tuesday table. Comments included, 'Inky dark purple, earthy... Well balanced, good keeping potential...Lovely fruit, sweet nutty US oak...Pretty good wine, has a lot going for it...Lots of promise.'

Penfolds Grange 1998. Around $300 plus. Cellar to 2030 and beyond. 19/20 and Trophy

Regions: Kalimna (Barossa Valley); Barossa Valley; Padthaway; Magill (Adelaide). Shiraz 97%, Cabernet Sauvignon 3%. Impenetrable black with purple edges. Nose of lifted, super ripe dark berries, noticeable alcohol, new oak vanilla in the background. Massive wine on the palate. Thick rich and chewy, blackberries, blueberries, blackcurrants, sweet oakiness. Imagine a melange of black forest gateau with a shot of first class mocha java on the side followed by an astringent vintage port and you'll get an idea of the wine. In a word, goluptious (look it up). Way too young to drink yet. Try in 2010. Up there with the best Grange I've ever had.

Ratings: Points are awarded (generously I hope) out of a possible 20. Maximum 3 points for appearance, 7 for bouquet and 10 for palate and finish. A score between 15.5 and 16.9 is a bronze medal winner. 17 to 18.4 rates a silver medal. Gold goes to those wines rating between 18.5 and 20 points. A rare trophy rating goes to an exceptionally good gold medal winner.

Quotes
Eddie Condon's hangover cure: Take the juice of two quarts of whisky...