I once found myself in Leningrad, in what was then the Soviet Union. Mikhail Gorbachev had only lately come to office, and it was easy to see why he was demanding reform. The place was shabby, the people ill-dressed. Long queues snaked out of the few shops that sold anything worth buying. And the food was vile. My most painful memory is of an evil-tasting grey goo that appeared on every dish I ordered. Apparently this was pureed aubergine, ubiquitous thanks to a bumper harvest.

After a week of it I asked a tour guide if there was anywhere I wouldn’t be served aubergine, pureed or otherwise. He gave me the name of a Georgian restaurant, reputedly the best in Leningrad. The place wasn’t too bad. They served a reasonably interesting meat-ball dish. In any other context this would have made little impression; after a week of Soviet aubergines it tasted like manna. But the real surprise was the wine. Read the rest of this entry »