If you are struggling for Christmas gift ideas, I have a brilliant one.
Why not give an Amazon pre-order for Christmas? Imagine your child's/sister's/brother's/aunt's/uncle'/parent's/neighbour's/teacher's/random acquaintance's little face/faces light up when they hear that at some point in the medium term future they will be receiving this remarkable book!
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Unusually, a foreign publisher has been quicker off the mark to get one of my books into their shops in translation than my English publisher. Here is it, 'The Almost Nearly Perfect People - the Truth About the Nordic Miracle' (out Feb 6) in its Danish-language incarnation: Der er et Lykkeligt Land ('There is a Happy Land' - a play on the first line of their national song, 'There is a Lovely Land'), published by Lindhardt og Ringhof.
Very proud. Had some really nice coverage in the Danish media - modesty forbids me telling you that it got five stars in national newspaper Berlinske at the weekend, for instance - and it's been fun stirring up the usually chillaxed Danes with mild criticism of their tyrannical obsession with 'hygge' and their various other forms of social extremism. The phone hasn't stopped ringing from current affairs TV shows.
It's been a bit like when I go for a walk with our dog, Luna. Every once in a while she stops, sniffs about a bit and, if it's a really good smell, she will have a good old roll around as a kind of souvenir I suppose, before, just as abruptly getting up and trotting off to the next interesting smell.
This last week, I've been an interesting smell for all the Danish TV and radio channels, and newspapers. They've had a good old roll around in me, and now off they go in search of the next one.
Here is a link to my piece in the Telegraph this weekend, following in the footsteps of the first English traders to arrive in Japan, 400 years on.
Brushed up on some of my samurai sword skills along the way...
This is why I love Japan. Every time I go, they've come up with some new stuff that is, invariably, brilliant, or at least very, very different. Sometimes weird. In a good way.
These are all three. Forget cronuts, these are 'Cube Chou Cream-uns' from the 'Brothers' bakery. Chou pastry, cunningly cooked in cube-shaped moulds and filled with custard, white bean jam and, I think sometimes, ice cream. I found them in the flabbergasting food halls of the new Skytree mall.
Genius.
Had to get my fat hands on one.
More 'Brothers' weirdness. Vegefru Choco anyone?
In further Skytree news. Forget the tower - which is the tallest free-stander in the world, I believe - for me, the shopping mall at its base could very well be the best on earth, with virtually no international chains, but plenty of SkyTree-themed souvenirs.
SkyTree baguettes.
Some kind of Skytree beverage.
Macaron Skytree tower.
Skytree hot dog sausages.
Goo-filled Skytree wafers.
It wasn't all Skytree-centric. There were these flower-shaped macarons, which I haven't seen before.
An entire store devoted to the salts of Japan, and the rest of the world.
Interesting, if rather regimented, chocolate packaging - each a different flavour or bean variety.
There was an excellent eel restaurant.
But the very best thing in the entire mall was this mochi shop close to the entrance - fantastic quality, heavenly toasted flavours, gorgeous texture. I came back three times.
Talking of mochi: here is some chocolate covered mochi. It was Robbie Swinnerton of the Japan Times who put me on to C-Lab's earth shattering innovation (how did they get the couverture to stick to the mochi? I have spent hours pondering this).
Only one disappointment.
I wanted OVER 634, dammit!
I'll post about what's new (to me at least) on the Japanese food scene in a bit, but for now here's a brief round up of the things which remain immutably wonderful about my favourite country on earth.
The Japanese still love their cartoon avatars. It seems no sign, poster or form of communication, even official, is complete without some kind of squidgy cuddly thing:
The latest hot character is... a field mushroom. With teeth.
He's still pushing his favourite coffee:
Although a certain other grizzled male Hollywood icon is muscling in on the Japanese ad industry these days:
But this place is still as electrifying as dusk falls and the liquid crystal begins to glow:
Japanese shops are still as service-minded as ever - foam-wrapped handle to protect my delicate writer's hands:
They still like their posh melons. £145 to you sir!:
Fuji is still in one piece, for now:
Their menus are still as occasionally challenging as ever:
And Osaka's food scene is as vibrant as I recalled:
Tsukiji is still there, for now at least:
And it still makes me gurn with pleasure just being there:
And, of course, the food is still as staggering as ever (from left, crab, cod milt and monkfish liver - at a very ordinary, under-the-railway-arched place in Yurakucho):
I'll be honest, the Faroes had never featured on my bucket list. I'd usually thought of them - if I had thought of them at all - as kind of poor man's Iceland. Actually, you can probably visit Iceland for less money, so where did that leave the Faroes? In the middle of the North Atlantic, that's where.
How wrong I was. On a visit just before Christmas, I met some really amazing people, tasted some utterly fascinating and unusual food and took in some of the most remarkable scenery I have ever seen.
Nervous about helicopters? Me? That's sheer excitment you can see there, that is.
I also ate a lot of dried, fermented lamb.
Served three ways. Pretty delicious, complex flavours. Strong, but great in small doses and wonderful with sherry, as I discovered.
Here is how it is made: no salt, which is how they do it in Norway. Apparently, the climate is so perfect for air drying that no salt is needed. The Danish dairy, Arla, has recently started a project to age cheese up here. I tasted some: bitter, but again, complex and interesting. Definite potential.
This is the hillside where the sheep roam, taking on a unique flavour from the indigenous grasses and the ozone.rich air. This entire island is inhabited by just one family, with two kids who are schooled in a specially-built shool house - the small hut top left. The teacher flies in by helicopter and stays for four nights a week in the school house. If the weather's bad - which it usually is - they take lessons via Skype.
The view from my room at the Hotel Foroyar in the capital, Torshavn. It's the best hotel on the islands, and actually one of the best in the Nordic region. Properly world class.
And it has a world class restaurant, too, called Koks. I was there to interview the chef, Leif Sørensen, who returned to his homeland a few years back after running a Michelin starred restaurant in Copenhagen. In the spirit of the New Nordic manefesto (to which he was a signatory), he wanted to explore the produce of the Faroes and develop a new Faroese cuisine. Sørensen has cooperated on a gorgeous new book, also called Koks (with text in English), all about his food and the produce of the Faroes, by Danish author Bent Christensen and photographer Claes Bech-Poulsen.
I was invited to a gala dinner to celebrate the launch of the book. First up were some dried shrimp. Intensely shrimpy.
On this cod spine were served various crispy snacks, which were snapped up so fast I didn't grab a photo.
Langoustine tails. Fat, juicy, phenomenal.
We went out - in very choppy seas, I have to say, not that this bothered me, oh no - to try and catch some ourselves the next day.
This is Michelin-starred Copenhagen chef, Jacob Mieckle, 'preparing' them (ie ripping their heads off) for us to eat raw. Words can not begin to describe how sweet and tender they were. Is it wrong that I sucked their brains out too? I don't think so. It's what they would have wanted.
So, in summary: the Faroese might not be world class cartographers...
But I have never visited a place less likely to induce this upon arrival:
If only all my book covers could be this beautiful...
So, I began to reach the conclusion that there is something deeply awry with the Alsatians' colour sense. Not just in terms of the exteriors of their homes...
Never mind, there were plenty of things they do get right: namely, gut-busting winter dishes, like this Baeckaoffa (one for any food-themed spelling bee you might be planning). This one-pot stew features not just mutton, not merely pork, but mutton, pork AND beef. Baeckaoffa is apparently Alsatian for baker's oven, where these were traditionally cooked while the women carried out their Monday laundry duties.
This, meanwhile, is the home of the world's greatest jams, made by the legendary Christine Ferber and on sale at her small grocers, Au Relais des Trois Epis, in Niedermorschwihr.
A wonderful example of nominative determinism (though not sure the contents of the can is the kind of thing he offers sips of):
A Baeckaoffa in the wild:
The Statue of Liberty's ear. Seriously:
Street name in Colmar ('only in France', etc...):
Totally fell in love with Colmar - like Strasbourg, but more intimate, fewer tourists:
So, me and the Bugatti stopped off at the most famous restaurant in Alsace, L'Auberge de L'Ill, headed by chef Marc Haeberlin. His family have held on to their Michelin stars here for over 45 years. I have to say, this is slightly mystifying based on the meal I had which, though far from awful, was, equally, far from exceptional. I suspect we can put this down to the 'Bocuse' effect - there are some people to whom Michelin will give three stars in perpetuity regardless of the quality of their food (Gordon Ramsay is another). It's like the monkeys at the Rock of Gibralter, or the ravens at the Tower of London. If these places lose a star, the whole edifice crumbles.
Mackerel: forgettable.
Overcooked perch (I think it was perch):
Exquisite lobster dish, one of their 'signatures':
Hey, Mr Haeberlin, the '80s called, they want their dessert back:
In contrast, the exceptional carrot dish - cooked for some hours in carrot and orange juice - and consequently the carrottiest carrot I have ever eaten, at the exceptionally good one-star, Le Bistro des Saveurs at Obernai. Can't recommend this place enough. And not just for carrot fans. Chef Thierry Schwartz is clearly a great talent:
Yes, the Bugatti was nice, but I have to admit I was probably as relieved to hand the keys back as I was excited to get them in the first place.
I was less ambivalent about the food I ate in Alsace. That was pretty much all-round fantastic. No down sides.
The first of many, many choucroute garnis I stuffed down during my week:
Extraordinary cured meats in the market at Selestat:
I realise my story in the weekend's Independent magazine is only likely to provoke hatred, bitterness and envy in all who read it... but, what the hey!