This focus on greens is no doubt due to the 2^nd International Congress “Vive las Verduras” - in praise of vegetables - taking place in Pamplona and all the stars are there. Ferrán Adrià and Martín Berasategui of course, plus my chum Álex Múgica and many others from around the world are climbing onto the stage to prepare their signature vegetable recipes in front of their peers. Chinese cooking bok choi, Italians on courgette flowers, Germans praising cabbage (!) and from the United States, Anita Lo of ‘Annisa’ (avocado soup) and Dan Barber of ‘Blue Hill’ (Jerusalem artichokes) all strutting their stuff, making the most of the extraordinary variety and quality of produce grown in the Ebro valley of Navarra.

Gordon Ramsey’s recent outburst calling for chefs to be fined should they not use local produce has had its effect. There’s not a single British chef or restaurant represented at the Congress.

Macgregor, the buck rabbit is an exception as he lives in his own segregated run whilst the rest of the does and their young enjoy Bunny Guantanamo with its imposing Taj Mahal. This enormous hutch was knocked up by Bautista out of some white insulating board and is now the home to about 40 rabbits. Because they have burrowed under the hazel trees it is impossible to catch them when the pot requires filling. As soon as I step into the enclosure they scatter and make a dash for their underground shelters. Identifying and culling the males is also very difficult but I have come up with a solution. An air rifle with telescopic sights.

I can now sit on the terrace, glass of wine in hand and keep an eye on my flock whilst enjoying the sunshine. Any hint of typical adult male behaviour by a suitably sized rabbit and ‘pop!’ coniglio in padella for dinner. Marcella Hazan, Italy’s finest cookery writer, advises stewing the rabbit in its own juices then simmering it in white wine and rosemary. ¡Buen provecho!

In the airline industry, seniority is all-important. The more senior you are the more choice you have and the more money you get. And sometimes the more stuck in your ways you become. When crew would brag of having 25 years’ experience I would ask, “Actually, that’s just one year of experience repeated 24 times. What have you learned in the last 12 months?”

In the wine industry the most exciting wines are being made by young, enthusiastic wine-makers. Men and more often, women, straight from university, with hands-on experience in the vineyards, eager to try new ideas and reluctant to follow in the footsteps of their predecessors. Not that they lack respect for the traditions and knowledge of the original wine-makers but ‘more of the same’ is not what they want to do. The result is new varietals being grown in older vineyards, new plantings in areas previously untried and modern techniques applied in the cellars to produce fresh, interesting and exciting five-star wines.

Not Billy Two Stars.

Whilst cider has been made around here for centuries, cider-houses are a relatively new venture. Traditionally, farmers would harvest their apples in October, ferment the juice in huge wooden casks and bottle it in April. In January they would invite their neighbours to sample the new cider straight from the barrel. Standing around a table in the cold cellar, they would drink the flat, dry cider and eat bacalao (salt-cod), steak, cheese and walnuts, helping themselves from a single plate in the middle of the table. After coffee and brandy or pacharán, (an anise-based liqueur, flavoured with sloes, tasting of cough medicine) the neighbours would toddle off across the hills back to their own farm.

About 25 years ago some of the more astute cider-makers decided to commercialise this tradition. There are now some 60 or 70 cider-houses dotted around the hills of Hernani and Astigarraga serving draught cider and simple food in a rustic setting all year round.

Smelly Miguel is an avid pelota gambler but that wasn’t the reason he wanted to eat at Olaziola. It was the bacalao, prepared in a thick, green, olive oil and parsley sauce and served in an earthenware dish that he was after. The dish is gently shaken on the hob for about 20 minutes until the gelatine from the fish thickens the sauce turning it unctuous and sticky. The steak that followed was several centimetres thick, weighed about a kilo and was barely cooked, just charred on the outside and sprinkled with salt. With the cry, “Txotx” the cellarman opened the spigot in one of the huge vats and a jet of cider crashed to the concrete floor. Or at least it would have done had I not shoved my tumbler into the flow and caught a decent mouthful. Filling the glass is considered extremely bad manners. This means queuing up and catching another splash whenever you want a drink. There were 11 vats of cider, each named after a neighbouring parish. We tried them all but thought the vat named Ezkurra was not as good as Leitza and that Berastegi was the best.

Our toddle home meant Miguel driving us along the narrow road that follows the Urumea River up to its source, high in the mountains above San Sebastian. Naturally, we stopped for a drink in Goizueta. Miguel barely noticed the wild boar that darted across the road right under our noses. He simply flicked his toothpick to the other side of his mouth and drove on. Miguel never drives fast.

I know it’s going to be a good day if I see the family of wild boar in their pen on the side of the hill on the way down into Leitza. The boar is huge with a big bog-brush ridge of bristles down his back. The sow and her young are harder to spot.  If you’ve read Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time then you’ll recognise the symptoms. Hearts are lifted and lottery tickets bought.

For some time we have not seen any sign of life in the pig-pen. Nor have we won the lottery. Last night, our landlord, Bautista the Bodger, revealed why. The boar family belongs to a farmer, leader of a local hunting clan. One night, a gang broke into the pen by cutting through the huge padlock on the gate. They enticed the parents out of their sty with maize, shot them both with silenced rifles and stole the six little piglets. One youngster escaped and was being bottle-fed by the farmer’s wife. The rest have disappeared. Chief suspect is the town blacksmith because he owns bolt-cutters powerful enough to cut the padlock and belongs to a rival hunting clan.

Yesterday, a small wild boar piglet was spotted rooting around in the muddy pig-pen. A lottery ticket was bought from Miguel.

It’s going to be a good day.

The feedback I have received so far suggests shorter, sharper posts with more humour and less detail. Except from Simon who said it was too brief but that was because he hadn’t read it.

So, that’s your lot for today. I’m off to Pamplona tomorrow for a wine tasting.

Toodle Pip!

Roser Girbau, the oenologist, talked of her efforts, the labour and expense involved in its creation; hand-picked grapes from their own vineyards, manually selected, fermented in state-of-the-art, temperature controlled stainless steel tanks then aged in new French oak. It is easy to understand how a wine with this massive investment behind it can beat off competition from 1683 other wines in a blind tasting to win Spain’s top prize. I’m pretty sure anyone with enough money can craft a wine to win competitions but how much would it sell for? I was astonished to hear the venerable and proud Don Juan Ignacio Belasco reveal that the Marco Real Reserva 2004 will hit the shelves next month at around €10 a bottle. This is a wine created for consumption not competition. What a bargain!

Juan Ignacio went on to say that there were wines costing over €200 a bottle entered for the Grand Bacchus competition.   My wine tutor, the much revered Arthur Bone used to say, “Ask yourself two questions when tasting a wine. Do I like it? Can I afford it?” Well, I, for one, cannot afford €200 for a bottle of wine no matter how much I may like it. “But is that expensive?” asked Juan Ignacio. He went on to say that in his opinion, a wine is only expensive if it fails to meet his expectations; a €10 wine can disappoint and thus be a waste of money whilst a €100 bottle could astonish and turn out to be a bargain.

I was astonished by the Marco Real.

Toodle Pip!