Task 25: Take part in a Vermouth masterclass

Ever since university days I've liked extra dry martini. In my third year, living in a sort of large cupboard under the stairs owned by a Mr Brown, where all the furniture - including the fridge - was painted brown, my evening routine when I got back from the library was to put on a record, light the gas fire, pour a martini and lie on the settee thinking of nothing for 20 minutes. In the evening now, Peter and I get together for a couple of martinis made with gin and a whisper of vermouth, and talk about the day. When I was deciding what to include in the food and drink section of the 60 challenges, there was no doubt that something along these lines had to feature. Doing some research online, I found that Mele e Pere - http://meleepere.co.uk/page/about-us - in Soho offered a vermouth masterclass about once a month, which had excellent reviews and sounded perfect. 

On our return from South Africa at the end of March, I started trying to make a booking but found that plans to hold the next masterclass were not yet firm. By late August I was getting seriously concerned, as there was still no sign of a date and I couldn't find anywhere else in London - or England - which offered anything similar. In the end I managed to speak to Ed, the manager and "vermouthier-in-chief". I explained about the challenges, the two charities I was raising money for and how I really needed his help to be able to achieve this one. He was lovely and immediately offered to run a class just for Peter and me, which was so kind of him. We settled on the last Wednesday in August, to start at about 6.30pm before the restaurant and bar got too busy.

I was sure I was going to enjoy the evening, and I was right. We'd never been to Mele e Pere before and I wasn't sure what to expect. The tone is set as soon as you enter, by the imaginative and stylish decor, with the accent very much on vermouth:

There is a bar and smallish seating area on the ground floor, and when you go downstairs you find a sizeable restaurant and a larger bar:

I liked the fact that in the restaurant, the chairs and tables didn't all match but worked well together as they are made of wood and have character. The lighting is unusual and carefully chosen to enhance the atmosphere. Although the surfaces are hard, you can easily hear one another as there are interestingly shaped white baffles on the ceiling, which look good and absorb the sound. If only all restaurants would do the same!

When we arrived the masterclass materials - glasses, bottles and some little pots containing dried herbs, roots and other aromatic ingredients ("botanicals") - were already set out on a long old wooden table, with swivel stools attached. Ed introduced himself and began by explaining the history of vermouth and how the taste varies depending largely on which botanicals and which base alcohol (wine or spirits) are used. Recipes tend to be closely guarded secrets. 

Vermouth is one of the oldest alcoholic drinks in the world, dating back to 1500 BC in India. Its name derives from the German word (wermut) for its key ingredient wormwood, a plant - artemisia absinthium - from the daisy with legendary medicinal properties. In Europe it was first produced commercially in northern Italy in the 18th century, became the essence of classic cocktails in the 19th century, and is still regarded as the king of aperitifs. 

Every week Mele e Pere infuses, blends and kegs 20 litres of its own vermouths on-site, using ingredients such as gentian, hyssop, lemongrass and angelica, drawn from the extensive collection of botanicals beautifully displayed on the second shelf of the bar:

 Ed gave us two to sample, one white and one red:

The white one tasted dry and not overly bitter, with what seemed to me a flavour of grapefruit (actually lemon and orange peel) and lavender. The red one struck us as more of a winter drink, with a spicier flavour including cloves and cinnamon. We liked them both and were very happy to be making a dent in that week's 20 litres.

We then moved on to sampling three bottled vermouths, from Italy, Germany and France:

The French one, Lillet, seemed the driest and the German the sweetest, reminding me a bit of walnut sherry. I should perhaps add that the samples were generous...

Now we were at the point where we were going to make our own vermouths, using the selection of liquid botanicals provided - sage, oregano and rhubarb root for red, and angelica, marjoram and wormwood for white - together with dry white Italian wine and sugar syrup. Out of curiosity we decided to taste each of the botanicals in their dry form before using any of them. The angelica was relatively sweet and fruity. The wormwood, as expected, was very bitter although it is not the type - now banned - that is hallucinogenic and was much favoured by Toulouse Lautrec et al as green absinthe, and contributed to their early demise. The rhubarb root was intensely bitter - far more than the wormwood. 

We both began with the white, mixing a few drops of sugar syrup with a third of a glass of wine and adding one ingredient at a time, using about a quarter of a teaspoonful. Peter produced a fine combination, using extra sugar syrup offset by enough wormwood to give it plenty of character. I found that simply adding angelica gave quite a caramel flavour, which was pleasant but bland. With marjoram as well, its taste reminded me of some Italian pasta meals, fragrant with a sharp edge. When I added the wormwood, the mixture smelled really bitter but the taste was less so. With a little more sugar syrup it developed a more rounded flavour, which I liked.

We then turned to the red. The sage turned the wine slightly pink but didn't seem to have much effect on the taste. With the oregano as well, the effect was similar to the marjoram. What made the difference was the rhubarb root, which gave it a woody fragrance which was unusual and not too bitter. It also changed the colour to a lovely pale rose.

Ed explained that we were free to continue mixing if we wished, but we were becoming aware of the cumulative effects of the strong alcohol - 16-18% - and decided to leave it at that, happy with what we'd produced. The masterclass includes three sharing platters between two, which you choose from the menu. We took a while to decide which to have, as they all sounded delicious. Eventually we settled on finely sliced porchetta, salsa tonnata, capers and rocket cress; bruschetta with sweet red peppers and truffled cheese; and figs with soft Italian cheese and honey:

They all tasted wonderful. I'm not usually a huge fan of Italian food - it's fine for casual eating, but not really special. This was completely different. Absolutely fresh, northern Italian flavours and combinations, perfectly balanced and with nothing too heavy. The last time we had anything like this was in Verona - and it turned out that that is where the chef is from. We were two very happy bunnies:

We decided, though, that we had room for a little more so Peter ordered a main course (saffron risotto with roasted scallops and razor clams), while I opted for focaccia and beef bresaola with rocket and fresh black truffle. We shared the Italian white wine left over from the vermouth-making - two glasses each - and thought how lucky we were to have this experience, thanks to the delightful Ed:

We will definitely go back there again for dinner, and even just for a drink - though it would be a shame not to savour that superb food again...