Category: Food and drinks

Facing it

On By Conversations with StrangersIn Art, Beauty, Entertainment, Fashion, Food and drinks, Life, London, UncategorizedLeave a comment

September brings one reluctantly down to earth. A gentle easing in is how I decided to do it via the FT Weekend Festival at Kenwood House. Nothing too heavy would do for the moment I decided. Not for me ‘So what does the FT really think?’ or Deborah Meaden on ‘Questions and business pitches at the ready?’. Not even ‘BREAKING NEWS on the FT Festival line-up! William J Burns, Director of the US Central Intelligence Agency and Richard Moore, Chief of UK Secret Intelligence Service’ – appearing together for the first time ever at a public event.

An Uber deposited me at the gates of Kenwood on Saturday morning and not long after I took my seat, zen-like, artisan coffee in hand, for my first speaker of choice – John Lithgow.

The lady next to me was on my wavelength: “Yes, I’m doing the same – going lite today” she told me.
I mentioned my itinerary which included ’50 Years of Disco’.
“That’s on my list too” she said. “I wonder when that starts from exactly?”
“I’m sure they’ll tell us – but it’s got to be before 1974?”

John’s mellifluous tones washed over me pleasantly: “Roald Dahl”…”The Royal Court”, and on 3rd Rock from the Sun: “The most fun you could possibly imagine: When does that happen now? .. It’s a milder drink.”

“What about Dahl’s antisemitism though?” Janine Gibson asked.
“Well, the play’s about the difficult and thorny issue of any person creating art” he replied.
Janine persisted on the same theme.
“You know, he struck me as an outsider wanting in – that heartburn in a person’s nature can be grounds for something else developing” JL replied.

Notions I’d had of side stepping the big stuff were showing signs of fading.

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Hot damn, and Chicken Dog!

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Completely unexpected in this part of town: Piccadilly Circus never knowingly the most sophisticated or salubrious part of the big smoke… FOWL sits patiently waiting, just off the main drag. 

The glossy ceiling height windows draw you in, the welcoming service brings you closer to its feathery artisanal plucked bosom. 

These are edible bosoms or should I say breasts – in culinary terms. But, wings and legs feature too, as well as various other parts of this feathered friend you never knew you wanted let alone could eat. 

And, the most succulent wings: ‘Like, how many times did they deep fry these?!’ I said to my companion, sauce and crispyness oozing from the morsel heading for my mouth. ‘I don’t know’ he replied, ‘But after Pierre’s Chicken Leg Corn Dog (Pierre Koffman – guest chef this month) and those Fig Negronis, I think I’m almost done.’ 

I wrested myself away from the comfort of childhood-made-grand, the naughtiness of indulgent cooking methods and snaffled the last of the chicken fries. ‘Sure, me too’ I replied, as the final crunchy wing headed for creamy sauce and found its way triumphantly into my waiting desire. 

Financial times

On By Conversations with StrangersIn Art, Entertainment, Fashion, Food and drinks, Life, London4 Comments

From Wagu burgers to AI, Jesse Armstrong to Neil Jordan, the FT Weekend Festival catered to the one percent and the curious, and more often than not a mixture of both.  

Potentially the last remaining Broadsheet (certainly in the UK) to give a damn about as-objective-as-it-gets journalism, I was chomping at the bit to hear what the line-up of erudite speakers and their interviewers had to say. 

Immediately after Tim Harford’s ‘Why smart people believe silly things’ (guilty, I think), I hot footed it to the Food and Drink Tent to get the lowdown on what the point is of restaurant critics.  After 45 minutes with Tim Hayward, Jimi Famurewa and Jay Rayner, and some incisive questioning by Harriet Fitch-Little, the answer was clear: entertainment. Jay confirmed “Ours is a writing job… As long as readers want to turn the page…”

Jesse Armstrong on Succession followed, immediately after what the FT considers to be the biggest issue of the day:  America and China’s relationship, or lack of. The latter’s tricky we pretty much all agreed, however cultural collaboration could be a way forward, Gillian Tett suggested. That garnered a round of applause, but was as nothing compared to the one Mr Armstrong received shortly afterwards.

Jesse’s spot was the hottest ticket in the grounds of Kenwood House that day: queues round the block and up to the Literature Tent told us so.  And, it was hardly surprising.  A blockbuster production virtually the entire audience that day had watched – demonstrated by a show of hands early on. 

I struggled to curb my question: Who wrote Tom’s lines?  Was it just one person?  If so, please please can you give me their phone number, in fact all their contact details, because I want to marry him, her, them.

I restrained myself.  Instead, a member of the audience asked “Who is cousin Greg modelled on?”  Jesse’s reply was straight and sweet: “A lot of me” or words to that effect. 

Already a pastel de nata and sharp coffee down, the brain needed further nourishment.  The Wagu burger got my money, but the variety of vittles on offer was wide. 

A more relaxed afternoon followed, with my attention taken by a ‘How to style it Q&A’ and Neil Jordan on novel ideas. 

By 5.30pm ish I’d earned a break.  Sitting on a straw bale with tea and a melting brownie, I got chatting to L and G – a junior doctor and media professional respectively. We talked pre-loved and vintage fashion, style, and getting dressed in the morning – as is my wont. 

“What do you think is missing in media coverage of fashion/vintage shopping?” asked G. I didn’t hesitate: “The intellectual aspect” I replied.  “The media focus on the apparent trend for shopping pre-loved and vintage. I think it would be interesting to delve deeper into that. What’s really driving our current shopping habits? Has that changed forever? Is it about money? Is it about climate change? Do we still care? And, if not why not?”

I looked around at my fellow FT Weekend Festival goers: a uniformity of casual verging on careless style proliferated. Money didn’t appear to be an issue here – but then how the one percent and the curious dress is a whole other story. 

Thanks to the Financial Times for a thought-provoking day.

Cat and mouse

On By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, Food and drinks, Health, Ibiza, Life, Travel/vacations1 Comment

“Tiene café aqui?” I asked.

“Of course we do!” came the surprised response.  

I looked at Fifi whose eyebrows had travelled sceptically northwards: “Well, that’s news to me” she suggested.   “I’ve never had a coffee here – I just didn’t think they did it.”

“Sure, I mean, where’s the machine after all?” I said looking around.  Nada.

I asked for a descafeinado. “But” I said, “Will it really be descafeinado?” 

“D’jes – of course!” replied our lovely waiter; “I will make it myself!”

Unsure whether that would be the difference between up all night and just pleasantly sleepy, I threw caution to the winds: “Okay” I said, “Let’s do it!”

The Cortado arrived.  The arresting image of a mouse’s face, or was it a cat, stared up at me.  He was smiling, but the shape of his eyebrows suggested he had something on his mind, indeed that he was concerned, perhaps even worried. Spots where there could be whiskers – but weren’t – surrounded his dot of a nose, and his eyes – two circles surrounding pupils which wandered in alternative directions.  To be fair, this arresting apparition looked like he’d had a late night, or perhaps, not even slept at all. 

“Ooooh, he’s sooooo cute!” I exclaimed to our man.  “Do you have a maquina to make him?”

“Yo!…Yo! He grinned. “I am the maquina, the machine!”

We all laughed.  A laugh fortified by a bottle of Juve Y Camps and insightful conversation with my lovely chum in our favourite place to eat.

I sipped the Cortado: delicious.  In fact the best I’d had so far five days into my break from urban living. 

Declining postres, we paid up and made our way to the carpark. 

“You know, considering I’ve had a fair amount of Cava, I just don’t feel tiddly at all – must have been the steak.  Wow. I really needed some red meat.” I said, sliding the door shut with maybe more vigour than required. 

Arriving back home, we were met by A who slowly walked with me towards my cabin in the woods. We talked of astrology, science and Human Insight. “I will look it up tomorrow” I said to A, “It sounds fascinating!”

My head hit the pillow and I was out like the proverbial light. 

Two hours later, I woke with a start.  What was that shuffling noise?  Was it my bicycle moving? Was it a mouse? Were the Balearics home to Badgers? I didn’t think so.  

Eyes wide open, I stared up into my eye mask. They remained that way until the cocks started crowing and the peacocks screeched their greeting to another day under the pines. I looked at my phone: 6am.

My head was buzzing with astrological conundrums; the rights and wrongs in life; the things to do and not do; energies flowing and not flowing; musings on my generation – and most particularly on our shortcomings.

Usually slow to rise, I leapt out of bed two hours later, completely wired.  

Descafeinados on holiday, it turns out, continue to escape me. 

I texted Fifi: “No wonder that ‘mouse’ looked worried. It’s true – our restaurant doesn’t do coffees; they do rocket fuel: I should get five chapters written this morning.”  

I made breakfast in five seconds, and started to write. 

Zen and The Act of Kindness

On By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, Food and drinks, Life, Sport, Travel/vacations, Uncategorized1 Comment

IMG_0772“Seriously?  You have a bath and a kettle in your room?” I said to new Club Med friend Els. “It must be a deluxe one: I was told they’d done away with most of them in the refurb – part of an economy drive around water. I agree with that – but I do love a soak in the bath after a hard day’s table tennis and lounging by the pool.”

It was the first of many changes I spotted during my week at Da Balaia. It seemed that like some of its guests and the world at large, Club Med is also partial to an identity crisis: Rooms are refreshed; a newly decorated bar upstairs is all blonde wood; the nightclub area bright and airy, however in the communal areas the same old comforting carpet greeted me – a little tired around the edges now.

I followed crowds of beards from a tech company visiting for a conference to the dining room for lunch.

Ines, a Gentil Organisateur (G.O.) tore me away from frowning at chipped plates and cups, and the large round table next to me of eight French bloggers superglued to their ‘phones.
“So, how was your morning?” she asked, smiling. I told her what I’d done and hadn’t done and we found shared experiences to bond over.

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