After having descended a seven thousand foot peak, I made haste to the hotel and ate... and ate, and ate... Although I was initially a little taken a back when some greasy chap in an apron poured half a litre of olive oil over my fucking plate. "Just what on earth do you think you're play at, Giuseppe!?" I mean, I like olive oil, but not half as much as I like Forst. Forst is a seriously good drop of ale.