分类： entertainment

A remarkable piece of viticultural history has been brought back to life after more than a century of hiding: eight bottles of legendary 130-year-old Chateau d’Yquem Sauternes wine, which survived both World War II and decades of communist rule tucked beneath the floorboards of a Czech castle, have been carefully restored by the very Bordeaux winery that originally produced them.

The bottles form part of a larger 136-bottle rare spirit collection unearthed in the 1980s at Becov nad Teplou Castle in western Czechia, and all the recovered bottles are set to go on public display once preparations are complete. The collection originally belonged to the noble Beaufort-Spontin family, who were forced to flee Czechoslovakia abruptly at the close of World War II over allegations of collaboration with Nazi occupying forces. In their haste to leave, they hid their valuable wine assortment beneath the floorboards of the castle’s chapel, right next to the revered Shrine of St Maurus, where it lay undisturbed for four decades.

In 1985, communist secret police stumbled upon the hidden collection during a search. While the Shrine of St Maurus was immediately transported to Prague for extensive restoration work before returning to Becov for public display in 2002, the forgotten wine was left undisturbed in its original hiding spot. It was not until a routine inventory audit a decade later that the cache was rediscovered, prompting a meticulous, years-long rescue and restoration project led by Chateau d’Yquem, the iconic producer of some of the world’s most expensive and sought-after sweet white wine from Bordeaux’s Sauternes region.

The eight bottles restored by the winery were produced in two vintages: 1892 and 1896. Working to verify and preserve the rare liquid, the winery’s team conducted careful sensory testing to confirm the wine’s authenticity. “We tasted a very small quantity to be sure that, aromatically and in terms of balance on the palate and overall perception, the wine corresponded to a Chateau d’Yquem of that age,” explained Toni El Khawand, cellar master at Chateau d’Yquem. Follow-up laboratory analysis confirmed the wine’s provenance, allowing the team to move forward with conservation work: original degraded corks were replaced, fresh protective capsules were fitted to the original glass, and in some bottles where significant oxidation had occurred, the wine was transferred to new containers. As a result of this necessary conservation, only five fully intact original bottles will return to Becov for display.

El Khawand described tasting the well-preserved wine, which survived the decades-long burial thanks to its naturally high sugar content that acts as a preservative, as an extraordinary experience. “What we’re really doing when we open it is unveiling a time capsule. We pull out this cork that has sealed the liquid off from its surroundings and, in a way, from the passage of time,” he told reporters at the official presentation of the restored bottles.

Against all expectations, the 130-year-old wine retained remarkable brightness and complexity. “The wine impressed us with its freshness on the palate. It is very, very fresh, with an almost acidic freshness,” El Khawand noted. He went on to detail the wine’s layered bouquet, highlighting notes of cedar, dried fruit, saffron, cinnamon and nutmeg, alongside age-characteristic Chateau d’Yquem notes of chocolate, coffee, mocha and oud.

While recent vintages of Chateau d’Yquem already retail for hundreds of dollars per bottle, the Czech National Heritage Institute estimates the entire 136-bottle recovered collection would fetch roughly $5 million if put up for auction. El Khawand, however, emphasized that the wine’s value extends far beyond its market price. “First and foremost, it has moral and historical value,” he said. “It is a memory, ultimately — a liquid memory, to be sure — but it is a memory of all those who came before us, of the work that was done.”

There are currently no plans to auction the collection. Instead, Becov Castle is preparing a public exhibition that will showcase all recovered bottles of wine and cognac, including other rare vintages such as an 1899 Pedro Ximenez sherry and an 1892 port. To fund the exhibition space and further restoration work, the castle has launched a public fundraising campaign. If enough funds are raised, collections manager Katerina Nyvltova says the team plans to conduct more in-depth analysis of the remaining wines and complete restoration of all salvageable bottles in the collection. “If we raise the money, we will definitely want to do a more thorough analysis of the wines. And if we can recondition the rest, we’ll definitely go for it,” she told AFP.

India’s iconic Hindi film industry, Bollywood, is currently roiled by a rare public debate over one of its most entrenched cultural norms: punishing, 12-to-18-hour daily shooting schedules that have been accepted as an unavoidable part of movie-making for generations. The conversation over implementing a mandatory 8-hour daily work cap has split top talent and industry leaders, pitting calls for humane work-life balance against practical concerns of big-budget production logistics.

The debate first gained national traction last year, after leading A-list actress Deepika Padukone reportedly walked away from a major upcoming project over disputes around working hour limits, a request she raised after returning to work following motherhood. Padukone’s exit pushed the long-underreported issue of unregulated work conditions in Indian entertainment firmly into the public spotlight, opening the floodgates for widespread discussion across the industry.

For decades, Bollywood has been synonymous with grueling production timelines: it is not uncommon for shooting shifts to stretch 12 to 18 hours a day, with intensive sequences sometimes requiring continuous work for more than 24 hours straight. What was once framed as a necessary sacrifice for cinematic success is now facing growing scrutiny, as an increasing number of industry professionals demand standardized, humane working conditions that protect cast and crew alike.

Advocates for the 8-hour cap argue that the existing unregulated system places disproportionate strain on women in the industry. Women who push for shorter work hours are often labeled uncooperative or difficult, a social stigma that is almost never attached to male stars who set similar boundaries. A slate of high-profile names have publicly backed the push for clearer work-hour boundaries, including actors Suniel Shetty, Kajol, and Ram Kapoor. Kapoor notes that once artists achieve industry success, they gain the bargaining power to set their own working limits — a comment that underscores a key reality: negotiating power for better work conditions remains deeply tied to an artist’s name recognition and status in Bollywood.

However, opponents of a rigid 8-hour mandate argue that fixed limits are unworkable for large-scale, big-budget productions, given the unpredictable nature of filmmaking. “This is not like a corporate job,” explained actor Ali Fazal, pointing out that different projects have wildly varying demands, especially action-heavy or technically complex shoots. Actress Chitrangda Singh echoed this perspective, noting that unforeseen disruptions from bad weather to unexpected equipment failures routinely derail even the most carefully planned schedules, forcing productions to extend shifts to hit deadlines. Singh added that filmmaking is ultimately shaped by unforgiving business realities that cannot be ignored when crafting industry rules.

Industry insiders elaborate on these economic pressures: large-scale productions can accrue daily costs exceeding $26,000 just for location rentals, crew wages, and equipment, creating enormous pressure to maximize every minute of shooting time. Amit Behl, a former official with the Cine & TV Artistes’ Association, highlighted the example of hit action blockbuster *Animal*, whose location rental alone cost 25 lakh rupees (roughly $26,300) per day. On top of that base cost, productions face additional expenses for supporting cast, catering, power, star accommodation, and on-site security, leaving little room for unplanned downtime. Behl added that filmmakers simply cannot afford to halt mid-sequence when large crews or elaborate action set pieces are already assembled.

Critics of the status quo push back, arguing that these cost concerns often serve as a cover for systemic inefficiency and poor production planning, shifting the entire burden of disorganization onto the backs of lower-paid cast and crew. Acclaimed filmmaker Shekhar Kapur has criticized Bollywood’s hierarchical structure, which often prioritizes convenient scheduling for top-billed actors while ignoring the needs of low-wage technicians and supporting crew. Kapur insists that work-hour protections should extend to every person on a set, not just A-list stars. “Everyone should have the privilege to define the hours they want to work,” he told AFP.

The ongoing debate has also drawn attention to deep inequities within Bollywood: while established stars have the clout to negotiate for shorter hours, junior artists, entry-level technicians, and daily-wage crew members have almost no bargaining power to push for better conditions, leaving them stuck in grueling schedules with no recourse.

Many industry observers frame the current split as a sign of a broader generational shift in Bollywood, where both rising young professionals and established senior stars are beginning to push back against outdated norms that prioritized output over worker well-being. Still, opinions on a mandatory 8-hour cap remain deeply divided.

Behl pointed to the example of Bollywood superstar Shah Rukh Khan, who has been known to work 27 hours straight to complete a key sequence, even though his fame and fortune mean he is not required to do so. “You can’t leave a scene mid-way… if it is an action scene where fighters are involved, anything can happen… it is not like shutting a laptop and working for an IT company,” he explained.

Veteran star Madhuri Dixit framed the issue as a matter of personal choice rather than a systemic problem that requires regulation. Speaking of her 2025 crime thriller *Mrs Deshpande*, Dixit noted the cast worked 12-hour or longer shifts daily, but added “if a woman wants to work fewer hours, that is her prerogative, her life… more power to her. To each his own, I’m a workaholic!”

Against a backdrop of soft piano melodies and the rich, warm scent of brown butter drifting through the dining room, 33-year-old chef Habi Khaliqdad puts the final touches on a signature dish: a slice of soy-glazed narwhal, garnished with crispy puffed bacon. For seven years, this single-minded pursuit has anchored his life above the Arctic Circle, so deeply ingrained that the goal is even tattooed on his right arm: to claim the first-ever Michelin star for Greenland.

The culinary world will turn its attention to the Nordic region this Monday, when the iconic Michelin Guide announces its annual list of starred establishments. From the floor-to-ceiling bay window of Khaliqdad’s Ulo Restaurant, tucked in the remote Arctic town of Ilulissat, guests gaze out at a sweeping expanse of snow that blurs into the famous Icefjord, where towering icebergs drift slowly out to the open ocean.

Khaliqdad cuts a distinct figure: sharp, smiling features, arms lined with intricate tattoos, and a plain-spoken style laced with colorful language. Even he sometimes questions why he took on this unprecedented challenge, because every step of building a world-class restaurant in one of the harshest inhabited environments on Earth comes with extraordinary hurdles.

Securing consistent ingredients is the first and most persistent mountain to climb. In late March, shifting winds push packed sea ice to close off Ilulissat’s harbor, forcing local fishermen to suspend operations and leaving Khaliqdad unable to source the tender, flavorful redfish his menu relies on. Even core menu items like his signature Qaqortoq lamb sweetbreads with Italian white truffle and onion jus require logistical feats: Greenland’s harsh Arctic climate supports almost no commercial agriculture, so the lamb travels nearly 1,000 kilometers by boat or plane from the island’s warmer southern region to reach his kitchen. When winter storms roll in, air travel is grounded and cargo ships are trapped by ice, cutting off the town from outside supplies for weeks at a time. “If there’s a storm … you have to wait,” Khaliqdad says simply.

His fight to build a starred restaurant here mirrors the larger paradox of modern Greenland: a land brimming with new opportunity, but held back by deep structural and geographic constraints.

For Khaliqdad, the journey is as much personal as it is culinary. A Dane of Afghan origin, he carried a lifetime of loss, hardship and addiction before finding redemption in the heat of commercial kitchens. He got his start as a teenager washing dishes, and fell in love with the craft through French cuisine, devouring cookbooks from legendary French chef Paul Bocuse. He worked his way up through Copenhagen’s most prestigious dining establishments, earning a nomination as a finalist for the city’s 2017 Chef of the Year award.

Today, Denmark holds 37 Michelin stars across 263 Nordic Guide listed restaurants, transforming the country once known only for heavy, traditional fare into a global destination for innovative gastronomy. But that culinary revolution has never crossed the Labrador Sea to reach Greenland. Deep in debt and looking for a fresh start, Khaliqdad took his former mentor’s advice: “Go to Greenland, man. It’s cold and you’ll find yourself.” He relocated to the Danish autonomous territory to rebuild his life and chase his culinary dream.

In his kitchen, centered on an Italian-made island, Khaliqdad uses a sharp Japanese knife to break down local Arctic ingredients: narwhal, reindeer, and ptarmigan, all sourced from the region. When he first arrived, he pored over botany textbooks to find native flavors that could lighten the traditional heavy, meat-centric Greenlandic diet. It was a local hotel housekeeper named Stella who ultimately taught him where to forage wild mushrooms and angelica native to the tundra. Each summer, during the few short snow-free weeks, Khaliqdad and his team hike the rocky hills outside town to gather their own fresh ingredients. “I learned to not think about Nordic, European, Michelin cuisine. I have to think about this country’s cuisine,” he explained.

Today, Ulo draws a steady stream of well-traveled tourists, who arrive in stylish apres-ski gear to dine while gazing out at the icebergs. Ilulissat, a town of just 5,000 permanent residents, already welcomes 50,000 tourists a year drawn to its iconic Icefjord. Now, the town is positioning itself as Greenland’s emerging gastronomy capital, with a new culinary training program launched recently and a new international airport set to open in October, which is expected to double annual visitor numbers. “Maybe they can help me with this small dream I have in my body, you know?” Khaliqdad says, tapping the star tattoo inked into his arm.

Even with this growing momentum, steep hurdles remain. Travel to Greenland remains expensive and logistically complex, even for anonymous Michelin inspectors. Khaliqdad also struggles to hire trained local kitchen staff, as few Greenlandic workers have formal culinary training. The long, dark Arctic winters also bring a heavy weight: a few years ago, a young kitchen hand died by suicide, a stark reminder of the widespread mental health challenges that plague the island’s remote communities. “It’s hard. It’s fun. It’s sadness too, man… It’s odd,” Khaliqdad reflected.

Still, he continues forward, his eyes fixed firmly on the guiding star that brought him to the Arctic, waiting to see if his seven-year quest will finally be rewarded this Monday.