Greek hospitality

For the best part of 20 years, since one of my best friends hooked up with and then married Nikos from Athens, I have been at the receiving end of generous Greek hospitality. Our recent visit culminated with a memorable lunch at their weekend house on the coast in Nea Makri near Marathon. As is usually the case in good weather, the food is cooked on the grill in the garden – in this case squid and octopus for starter, followed by a large, family-sized sea bream.

The food is always wonderfully simple, showing off local, seasonal ingredients. My friends are fortunate in benefitting from a family-owned olive and citrus grove and they make their own vinegar and wine (like many Greek households). We made a vinegar and oil dressing for the squid and octopus, whereas the fish was dressed (anointed) with an emulsion of lemon juice and oil. We sipped some ouzo with the starter (octopus and aniseed are a match made in Mediterranean heaven) and salty, mineral Assyrtiko from Santorini was ideal with the fish. Plenty of bread and salad were passed around.

My friends tend to round off a meal with fresh fruit, so we climbed up onto the roof and picked apricots from the tree and ate them gazing across the water to the island of Evia. A distinctive and memorable end to our holiday. Efharisto poli!

Exploring northern Beaujolais

I have to confess how excited I was about visiting Beaujolais. As I am (deceptively) mature, Beaujolais was one of the first wines I heard of and, indeed, consumed. This was shortly before the British wine market became flooded with New World wines and even when I was working at Oddbins in the early 1990s, Beaujolais Nouveau was still quite a big deal and involved some very early morning deliveries. As soon as it came off the van we'd open it – of course – and this light boiled sweet and bubblegum confection went surprisingly well with a McDonald's Big Breakfast or two (you'd be hungry at that hour). It's hardly representative of Beaujolais though and did as much for the reputation of the region as Liebfraumilch did for Germany.

We got to experience the real Beaujolais on holiday last summer, spending a couple of nights in tiny Lancié near Fleurie. We stayed in the beautiful family run maison d'hôtes Les Pasquiers (see top) where we enjoyed breakfast and evening meals, all based around local produce, even sourced from their kitchen garden. Dinner at Les Pasquiers also included local wines from Méziat down the road in Chiroubles.

We spent two nights in Beaujolais but, with our daughter in tow, didn't have too much time to devote to wine. So, after our first night at Les Pasquiers we had a relaxing morning by the pool before heading out for lunch at Domaine de la Madone in Fleurie. We spent the rest of the afternoon following the Route des Vins through northern Beaujolais – Moulin à Vent, Chénas, Juliénas and St Amour before looping back to Lancié via Romanèche-Thorins. Other than the more famous communes of Fleurie and Juliénas, these were mainly quite modest little hamlets, but the old stones and seas of vines help reveal Beaujolais' long history. Place names like Juliénas and Romanèche-Thorins hint at the region's Roman heritage.

The following day after checking out of Les Pasquiers, we headed south through Chiroubles and Villié-Morgon and Brouilly, passing extinct volcanos Mont du Py and Mont de Brouilly (see below), sources of serious, age-worthy wines. It would have been tempting to stop off in the handsome town of Brouilly with its bustling cafés and bars, but we were heading to Lyon for lunch.

Next time we'll also include southern Beaujolais, especially the scenic Pierres Dorées district, but this visit we focused on the northerly crus – the finer wines of the region. I'm so pleased we did. After a few disappointing decades, Beaujolais is now back on track producing some of France's best value and most enjoyable wines. For me, Beaujolais has graduated from perking up a dreary November to often taking top billing at Christmas. It deserves a bit more than a Big Breakfast.

(If you're planning to visit the region take a look at this useful piece by Sue Style on the Decanter website.)

Le Touquet: retro charm just across the Channel

I've got the softest spot for Le Touquet. How could you not? It's full name is Le Touquet Paris-Plage and this retro resort is a short drive down the coast from Calais, almost within sight of the south coast of England. So, when I was planning our summer holiday last year, it was an obvious overnight stop after our lunchtime ferry from Dover.

As its name implies, Le Touquet is one of France's oldest seaside resorts. With its pine woods, long, wide beach, golf courses, elegant avenues and quirky timbered buildings in the centre, it's easy to see why a century ago it became popular with Parisians looking for some refreshing, healthy r & r. Until F Scott Fitzgerald and his pals made the Riviera a fashionable summer destination in the 1920s and 30s, the beau monde decamped here and to other resorts along the Channel like Deauville, Trouville, Cabourg, Dinard and Dieppe.

Given that we were travelling on a Sunday – and how in France so many restaurants close Sundays and Mondays (amazingly even during high summer) – it made sense to spend the night somewhere reliably lively.

No risk of Le Touquet feeling quiet, the town marching band had been weaving through the streets and along the seafront and the town was buzzing. In one of Le Touquet's busy pedestrianised streets we had some bargain moules frîtes before carrying on strolling, finishing the evening with salted caramel crèpes.

We spent a comfortable night at the Hotel Bristol – just the kind of place regular Le Touquet visitor Noël Coward might have approved of – before continuing our predictably 21st century journey towards the hot sunny Mediterranean.

(Painting of Hotel Bristol copyright Alain Godon, 2010)

A happy New Year in the Italian Alps

Over New Year we treated ourselves to a week in the Italian Alps skiing and, I must say, eating magnificently. As a novice, my skiing didn't come close to being magnificent, but the food and drink in this spectacular corner of Italy certainly were.

We flew into Milan on Sunday 29th where we were collected and driven northwest to Champoluc in the Monterosa district near the border with Switzerland. Our two and a half hour drive took us towards Turin and then inland up into the mountains, following a stretch of the Aosta river. I was on the lookout for vineyards and our route went past Carema with its steeply terraced Nebbiolo vines. From the motorway it almost looked like a slate wall the way the terraces are supported, with snowy peaks in the near distance. What a feat of human endeavour. Zig-zagging higher and higher it became clear that we were in cheese territory, noticing signposts to dairies and even a 'cheese route'. If we were going to be generating big appetites on the slopes, there'd be plenty of delicious local options to choose from.

We were staying in Champoluc, a small traditional Alpine town nestling in a long narrow valley with a gondola/cable car in the centre to whisk you up to the pistes. We had half board accommodation at the family run Hotel Petit Tournalin, our comfortably arranged family room had a mezzanine level for children. Champoluc is a town with a strong ski bias, rather than a full-on ski resort. Apparently each year when the snow melts, the area reverts to dairy farming and cheese-making. There are several bars, restaurants and hotels, a market and the shops include a number selling ski equipment. Three feet of snow had fallen on Boxing Day so it was looking like a classic winter wonderland, especially with all the Christmas decorations. Gorgeous.

Over the course of the week, learning to ski, I pushed my forty-something body well and truly out of its comfort zone, giving it the fullest workout its had in years. Even after a carb-laden lunch (see above!), by evening, we were ready for another lot of food. Most evenings began in the bar in front of the fire with a local beer or 'vin brulé' before decamping to the dining room for several calorific courses. Highlights included melt-in-the-mouth cured meats, mushroom pasta and local cheeses – especially Fontina, and great value house wines Arneis and Dolcetto. At Le Petit Tournalin the cooking was reassuringly unshowy and sensibly economical, with most dishes served family style, helping yourself from large platters.

The exception was on New Year's Eve which was a more formal banquet, with an array of dishes, accompanied by local wines. I particularly liked the soufflé like 'leek flan' with bagna cauda, gnocchi with bleu d'Aoste and taglionini with shrimps and red caviar. Cotechino sausage with lentils was another great local dish – rather cassoulet like. Apparently the more lentils you eat, the more prosperous you will be in the year to come! The main course, pork shanks with almonds was creamy and tender. For dessert was semi freddo with chocolate sauce and sprinkled with amaretti crumbs – simple, but really effective. We toasted the New Year with Alpine fizz Blanc Fripon and some super-light panettone (although barely touched by the replete revellers). The panettone reappeared later in the week in tiramisu which tasted much more interesting than the usual creamy cliché. Another idea to bear in mind for Christmas leftovers (I have two lurking in my larder).

As a treat on our final evening we selected Gaia's Sito Morsco to have with venison braised with pancetta, cloves, bay leaves and orange. This was a wonderfully seasonal foil for the intense, warming Nebbiolo – from vineyards in the Langhe region, near Barbaresco and Barolo and, consequently sensibly priced at 40 Euros. A happy New Year indeed!

(The picture of the sparkly snow was kindly provided by Jessica James.)