I am on the mailing list of innumerable PR companies, the idea being there might, just occasionally, be something worth writing about to which they will alert me. The problem is, for every release of interest I have to wade through about 5000 that are a) badly written (ungrammatical, poor syntax, cliched...); b) utterly fatuous; c) tell me about another daft trend/food fashion in London.
A while back it was hot dogs served with champagne. The combination of fey, arch, look at my wad, and nauseating self-regard (aren't we so daring to break the boundaries? - no, no you're cocks who follow fashions as if they are the route to salvation, though that is actually the A47).
I love hot dogs, or good ones anyway. I love champagne. The two together, once in a while, are an interesting idea. But a restaurant - dozens apparently - based on the idea? You can feel the brainwaves washing over the place - 'Is anyone seeing me here eating hotdogs and drinking champagne?'
The best hot dogs (plural, they were big but good) I ever ate were in Buffalo New York, sold by an outfit called Ted's, part of a big chain I believe. We queued at the massive outdoor stall in our business suits, waiting behind construction workers, policemen, factory hands, it was like a foodie version of the Village People. Cooked over charcoal so they had a real hint of BBQ to them, served in a simple torpedo roll with masses of onions, sweet mustard and/or hot sauce, with crispily delicious onion rings as an unmissable side they were well worth the wait. Ted's is I think a third generation business, and will doubtless last for many more; those puerile hot dog and champagne bars in London are mostly closed by now I guess. Their owners and clientele will have moved on to the next big thing, or the next after that or the next after that. Sushi and chips? Pate de foie gras smoothies? (darling I've always loved them). Snake steaks with milk shakes and cup-cakes?
The most memorably badly written PR claptrap I was ever sent btw was from Fortnum's, or at least the apparently semi-literates then handling their PR. They informed me that, and I'll try to get their precise phrasing and punctuation right, however painful: 'The Scotch egg originated at Fortnum & Mason, in the 18th century which was specially created for their high end customers.' One for the scrapbook. Happily I have no hair to pull out.
Monday 22 February 2016
Thursday 4 February 2016
Deposits in My Taste Bank
We breakfast like kings, though with a better conscience. Nearly every such meal includes a home-made smoothie to get a flying start on our intake of fruit and veg, and because is it thoroughly enjoyable. As I took the first sip of this morning's version I was transported back to the 1970s, or even the 1960s - time travel by food - as the flavour of Vimto coursed through my system.
I'm not sure what actually flavours Vimto (natural or otherwise), but I am reasonably certain it's not a combination of blueberries, banana, peach, plum, and grapes, with lime and satsuma juice, almond milk and yakult to render it more liquid. But those ingredients combined to a moment of adult Vimto awareness.
However grown up we feel, or our roles dictate we should feel, deposits made in ones childhood taste bank are central to our experience of the world of food, at whatever age. I will confess that the flavour of bubble gum, something I have not actually eaten/chewed for decades, is very important to my appreciation of one of life's greatest pleasures, beer - it is significant in Leffe, Chimay, any wheat beer, Traquair, and many others. 'Ah, bubble gum, we love bubble gum,' says my brain (which now I notice it, sounds a tad schizoid).
Similarly with wine. Many grapes and wines hold a hint of Bazooka Joe, but the one where it is/was front and centre is/was Beaujolais Nouveau. Whatever happened to wines en primeur? Whatever happened to the pleasure of Beaj Nouveau, once raced from France to England to minimise the delay between its readiness and our drinking? Some was as rough as a Mohicanned badger's arse, of course; but every year as we took our first sip of the stuff we'd note the bubble gum (and to be accurate, the bananas too) and as jolly advanced nine-year-olds whatever our true age, we'd smile.
I'm not sure what actually flavours Vimto (natural or otherwise), but I am reasonably certain it's not a combination of blueberries, banana, peach, plum, and grapes, with lime and satsuma juice, almond milk and yakult to render it more liquid. But those ingredients combined to a moment of adult Vimto awareness.
However grown up we feel, or our roles dictate we should feel, deposits made in ones childhood taste bank are central to our experience of the world of food, at whatever age. I will confess that the flavour of bubble gum, something I have not actually eaten/chewed for decades, is very important to my appreciation of one of life's greatest pleasures, beer - it is significant in Leffe, Chimay, any wheat beer, Traquair, and many others. 'Ah, bubble gum, we love bubble gum,' says my brain (which now I notice it, sounds a tad schizoid).
Similarly with wine. Many grapes and wines hold a hint of Bazooka Joe, but the one where it is/was front and centre is/was Beaujolais Nouveau. Whatever happened to wines en primeur? Whatever happened to the pleasure of Beaj Nouveau, once raced from France to England to minimise the delay between its readiness and our drinking? Some was as rough as a Mohicanned badger's arse, of course; but every year as we took our first sip of the stuff we'd note the bubble gum (and to be accurate, the bananas too) and as jolly advanced nine-year-olds whatever our true age, we'd smile.
Tuesday 2 February 2016
(Not) by Bread Alone
There are other things in my life apart from food. Fishing for one - if anyone out there is interested in publishing a book on sea fishing by someone who can actually write (that's me btw), get in touch.
Music is another. Here there's a link with food, however (but then I guess the fishing is partly to do with eating the occasional catch), as my tastes in both are decidedly broad - I really hope that the 'People who bought this also bought...' bit on i-Tunes reflects my recent purchases of clarinet and piano music by Dame Elizabeth Maconchy and Fast Shadow by the Wu Tang Clan (because I love the movie Ghost Dog, but also because it's a terrific piece of music). Both ways - fans of hard rap or whatever it wishes to call itself shouldn't shut their minds to classical stuff, nor the other way around. And Gravel Pit is also highly recommended.
And while we're on music: to my tiny little mind there is only one answer as to what should replace God Save the Queen (atheist republican here who hates that dirge for its unmusicality apart from everything else). Let's begin the campaign to select (We Don't) Need This Fascist Groove Thang by Heaven 17 as the new national anthem. It makes a political statement about our attitude to extremism; while enjoying a great beat it is relatively slow, so easy for even footballers to sing; it is anti-pompous - every other bloody national anthem is po-faced and humourless; and I would love to see the great and the good having to mouth the word 'thang' at gatherings of the greedy. You saw it here first.
Music is another. Here there's a link with food, however (but then I guess the fishing is partly to do with eating the occasional catch), as my tastes in both are decidedly broad - I really hope that the 'People who bought this also bought...' bit on i-Tunes reflects my recent purchases of clarinet and piano music by Dame Elizabeth Maconchy and Fast Shadow by the Wu Tang Clan (because I love the movie Ghost Dog, but also because it's a terrific piece of music). Both ways - fans of hard rap or whatever it wishes to call itself shouldn't shut their minds to classical stuff, nor the other way around. And Gravel Pit is also highly recommended.
And while we're on music: to my tiny little mind there is only one answer as to what should replace God Save the Queen (atheist republican here who hates that dirge for its unmusicality apart from everything else). Let's begin the campaign to select (We Don't) Need This Fascist Groove Thang by Heaven 17 as the new national anthem. It makes a political statement about our attitude to extremism; while enjoying a great beat it is relatively slow, so easy for even footballers to sing; it is anti-pompous - every other bloody national anthem is po-faced and humourless; and I would love to see the great and the good having to mouth the word 'thang' at gatherings of the greedy. You saw it here first.
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