- halloumi is possibly the best thing Crete ever gave the world. i love squeaky cheese.
- i love my family. a lot. but they are incredibly frustrating a times.
- on a side note, my 11 year old cousin regularly sends me chain emails about finding god. to say it is odd (and possibly unintentionally offensive) is an understatment.
- i absolutely love to come home after a long day at work and have impromptu sex in the fading daylight.
- i have started another grown up book. the signs are promising
- today i was interviewed for a kids website summer reading campaign. it was sweet to say the least.
- liam's computer game mod just started playing rachmaninov's prelude in c sharp minor. not only is the designer geeky enough build a civ world about the age of imperialism, he has thematically chosen a period approrpiate score when my baby begins a russian campaign to dominate scandinavia. i love it.
30 June 2008
29 June 2008
the film festival in review
So, the EIFF has closed it's doors for another year. And for the first time, I really made the effort to see things and take risks. In the past week I saw 8 things. Some good, some bad and predictably - some so pretentiously aweful they bordered on unwatchable
In case you care, or ever wonder at the random DVDs on discount in the back of your local Blockbuster, here is the complete list
Summer Hours was a mainstream french film trying to find and anglicised audience. The pull of Juliet Binoche and the promise of quiet turmoil were worth the risk (it's about a woman who dies and her villa full of important antiques causes trouble for her children in choosing to keep, sell or give to a museum the objects that hold such history and memory), but it was ultimately hollow and unsatisfying. Although there were some touching and loaded exchanges, the lack of emotional depth to the characters meant I had to wonder if the very frenchy slow tracking shots weren't conveying some unspoken emotion but were actually covering up a lack of plot.
The Wackness a perfectly decent american "indy" with a great Ben Kingsley and a raft of decent performances that tried so hard to be cool it was almost painful. It was very funny and the main kid was quite compelling but so much desperation at being the next great thing made me realise how big a shadow Juno has cast on the small quirky comedy with twisting dialogue. It's going to be hard to surpass.
Good Dick While I was watching it, it had everything - great chemistry, a silly plot, a charming hero, some decent dialogue, and a ludicruous and oddly intriguing premise (boy works in video store. girl addicted to porn. he's interested. odd and crazy wooing period commences leading to moralistic ending and slightly obvious dramatic twist). When it was over it seemed pretty good - decent performances, empassioned artists, an interesting choice. When I got home it made me feel alittle ill and betrayed - sort of like when saturday morning cartoons have huge moral messages tacked on that not only diminish the enjoyment of the product, but also make you feel guilty and a little queasy for having enjoyed something so manipulative and yet unrealistic. But I'm over it now and i guess it's still pretty good - I just wish it had been less heavy handed and more plot driven.
Roger Deakins & Seamus McGarvey - a conversation with a man I didn't realise I had a professional crush on. Roger Deakins is the cinematographer for Assistnation of Jesse James, Jarhead, Shawshank, Kundun, and pretty much every Cohen brothers film since Barton Fink. He is ludicrously talented and hearing him talk about his work was utterly fascinating. Seamus McGarvey was interviewer instead of fellow cinematographer, which is a shame, because his choices in Atonement bore further reflection.
The Kreutzer Sonata Great story (from Tolstoy), great music (from Beethoven), ultimate heart rending tone of betrayal, jealousy and insidious doubt. So why fuck it up by doing high school handheld adlib-ed bullshit with shoddy camera work and terrible performances set in modern day LA? It was truly truly aweful. Liam put it best when he said "it's was just so mentally middle aged". What could have been an operatic epic on relationships (a man believes his younger, hotter musician wife is cheating on him - we never find out) is one man's internal monolgue for two hours and gratuitous flashbacks to their masculine, domineering, passionless and ultimately depressing sex sessions. All I know is if i was her I would have done a hell of a lot more than fuck the violinist.
Warsaw Dark an ambitious, experimental but slightly jumbled thriller set in Poland from Chris Doyle - previously cinematographer to much of the east asian cinematic renaissance including In the Mood for Love etc. While he is on of those eccentric filmmakers who says things that aren't entirely coherent and manage to be incredibly poncey - his attempt to make a jazz sculpture of film where the plot is not longer the point, but an aspect of a riffing session of artistry was really quite interesting - just not easily accessible.
Mermaid was hands down the winner. To say it was a darker, funnier Russian Amelie (as the blurb did) isn't giving it enough credit. The surrealist tone and isolated young heroine fit, but it's truly charming and weird and a bit disturbing even. But the actress was captivating and the plot keeps you guessing. Unlike NightWatch however, I wish I spoke Russin for this one to get the nuances and mis-en-scene of Moscow's billboards and adverts constantly commenting on the narrative.
Faintheart is just like every other indy british film you have ever seen. Just as fun, just as repetitive. Downtrodden hero loses everything, bands together with mates in ludicrous yet charming and funny situation to win back girl, save family and rekindle the human spirit. This has happened with unemployed strippers, up hill/mountains and in Notting Hill. This time: viking battle renactments. While sweet, funny and heartwarming you wonder if the UKFC can't greenlight something with a little more stamina and a less predictable cast off EastEnders and channel 4 sitcoms.
But, in it's favour, the film was a social experiement created through chat groups and forums on MySpace - in interesting concept which just proves putting too many men behind the camera means all you'll get is a long string of cliches which lose potency.
Thus endeth my week. Moral of the story: see fewer british and american pseudo-indy's, amp up the weird foreign and always see the live talks with the masters. I like big, blockbusters and tiny experimentals, but that in betweeny thing the government funds is just unsatifying.
In case you care, or ever wonder at the random DVDs on discount in the back of your local Blockbuster, here is the complete list
Summer Hours was a mainstream french film trying to find and anglicised audience. The pull of Juliet Binoche and the promise of quiet turmoil were worth the risk (it's about a woman who dies and her villa full of important antiques causes trouble for her children in choosing to keep, sell or give to a museum the objects that hold such history and memory), but it was ultimately hollow and unsatisfying. Although there were some touching and loaded exchanges, the lack of emotional depth to the characters meant I had to wonder if the very frenchy slow tracking shots weren't conveying some unspoken emotion but were actually covering up a lack of plot.
The Wackness a perfectly decent american "indy" with a great Ben Kingsley and a raft of decent performances that tried so hard to be cool it was almost painful. It was very funny and the main kid was quite compelling but so much desperation at being the next great thing made me realise how big a shadow Juno has cast on the small quirky comedy with twisting dialogue. It's going to be hard to surpass.
Good Dick While I was watching it, it had everything - great chemistry, a silly plot, a charming hero, some decent dialogue, and a ludicruous and oddly intriguing premise (boy works in video store. girl addicted to porn. he's interested. odd and crazy wooing period commences leading to moralistic ending and slightly obvious dramatic twist). When it was over it seemed pretty good - decent performances, empassioned artists, an interesting choice. When I got home it made me feel alittle ill and betrayed - sort of like when saturday morning cartoons have huge moral messages tacked on that not only diminish the enjoyment of the product, but also make you feel guilty and a little queasy for having enjoyed something so manipulative and yet unrealistic. But I'm over it now and i guess it's still pretty good - I just wish it had been less heavy handed and more plot driven.
Roger Deakins & Seamus McGarvey - a conversation with a man I didn't realise I had a professional crush on. Roger Deakins is the cinematographer for Assistnation of Jesse James, Jarhead, Shawshank, Kundun, and pretty much every Cohen brothers film since Barton Fink. He is ludicrously talented and hearing him talk about his work was utterly fascinating. Seamus McGarvey was interviewer instead of fellow cinematographer, which is a shame, because his choices in Atonement bore further reflection.
The Kreutzer Sonata Great story (from Tolstoy), great music (from Beethoven), ultimate heart rending tone of betrayal, jealousy and insidious doubt. So why fuck it up by doing high school handheld adlib-ed bullshit with shoddy camera work and terrible performances set in modern day LA? It was truly truly aweful. Liam put it best when he said "it's was just so mentally middle aged". What could have been an operatic epic on relationships (a man believes his younger, hotter musician wife is cheating on him - we never find out) is one man's internal monolgue for two hours and gratuitous flashbacks to their masculine, domineering, passionless and ultimately depressing sex sessions. All I know is if i was her I would have done a hell of a lot more than fuck the violinist.
Warsaw Dark an ambitious, experimental but slightly jumbled thriller set in Poland from Chris Doyle - previously cinematographer to much of the east asian cinematic renaissance including In the Mood for Love etc. While he is on of those eccentric filmmakers who says things that aren't entirely coherent and manage to be incredibly poncey - his attempt to make a jazz sculpture of film where the plot is not longer the point, but an aspect of a riffing session of artistry was really quite interesting - just not easily accessible.
Mermaid was hands down the winner. To say it was a darker, funnier Russian Amelie (as the blurb did) isn't giving it enough credit. The surrealist tone and isolated young heroine fit, but it's truly charming and weird and a bit disturbing even. But the actress was captivating and the plot keeps you guessing. Unlike NightWatch however, I wish I spoke Russin for this one to get the nuances and mis-en-scene of Moscow's billboards and adverts constantly commenting on the narrative.
Faintheart is just like every other indy british film you have ever seen. Just as fun, just as repetitive. Downtrodden hero loses everything, bands together with mates in ludicrous yet charming and funny situation to win back girl, save family and rekindle the human spirit. This has happened with unemployed strippers, up hill/mountains and in Notting Hill. This time: viking battle renactments. While sweet, funny and heartwarming you wonder if the UKFC can't greenlight something with a little more stamina and a less predictable cast off EastEnders and channel 4 sitcoms.
But, in it's favour, the film was a social experiement created through chat groups and forums on MySpace - in interesting concept which just proves putting too many men behind the camera means all you'll get is a long string of cliches which lose potency.
Thus endeth my week. Moral of the story: see fewer british and american pseudo-indy's, amp up the weird foreign and always see the live talks with the masters. I like big, blockbusters and tiny experimentals, but that in betweeny thing the government funds is just unsatifying.
26 June 2008
Last night I was trying to remember my childhood friends. There were lots, and most I don't even remember their names. Which isn't really all that sad, because what I remember is shucking corn at meijer and building sandcastles and the time we went to devil's lake.
But here was my childhood in a nutshell:
- I lived in 13 houses between birth and age 18
- I went to 4 different elementary schools
- I lived in 3 different states
I used to think the accident being right when I hit adolescence stunted me somehow - I spent my tween years trying to be a grown up and hold shit together and have been cryogenically frozen maturity wise. put on pause.
But sometimes I wonder if growing up all over, with lots of change and all sorts of people and adventures meant when my parents settled down when I was 13 and lived in the same town with the same baseball team and same bike paths I stagnated. I didn't know how to settle properly and never really did. I didn't really want to.
I loved growing up in back alleys, with crack whores and a pot smoking dad and midnight picnics and our own dingy strawberry patch outside our subsidised duplex. when my parents went middle class maybe I gave up.
I wonder if I'll ever grow out of that.
But here was my childhood in a nutshell:
- I lived in 13 houses between birth and age 18
- I went to 4 different elementary schools
- I lived in 3 different states
I used to think the accident being right when I hit adolescence stunted me somehow - I spent my tween years trying to be a grown up and hold shit together and have been cryogenically frozen maturity wise. put on pause.
But sometimes I wonder if growing up all over, with lots of change and all sorts of people and adventures meant when my parents settled down when I was 13 and lived in the same town with the same baseball team and same bike paths I stagnated. I didn't know how to settle properly and never really did. I didn't really want to.
I loved growing up in back alleys, with crack whores and a pot smoking dad and midnight picnics and our own dingy strawberry patch outside our subsidised duplex. when my parents went middle class maybe I gave up.
I wonder if I'll ever grow out of that.
22 June 2008
movie going has it's own rituals.
in the huge neon multiplex by my house, every bathroom stall has a star on the door with a movie star's name on it.
I avoid using any labelled Halle Berry, Susan Sarandon, Demi Moore and other sub-par performaces and phone-ins. I find it uncouth. I generally head for something like a Kate Winslet, or every once in while a Kathleen Turner or Katherine Hepburn. Today I nabed Helen Mirren and felt quite smug. It's some sort of snobbery I guess.
On principle, I will only pee inside women I respect.
I avoid using any labelled Halle Berry, Susan Sarandon, Demi Moore and other sub-par performaces and phone-ins. I find it uncouth. I generally head for something like a Kate Winslet, or every once in while a Kathleen Turner or Katherine Hepburn. Today I nabed Helen Mirren and felt quite smug. It's some sort of snobbery I guess.
On principle, I will only pee inside women I respect.
21 June 2008
the depths
I think I have come to a momentous (and still semi-confidential decision).
I have to leave Scotland.
Not today, or even next week. Probably not for a year or two yet, if I can manage, but soon. Maybe sooner than expected.
I think there are three main reasons for this, all of which I am coming to accept as valid life choices.
1: It is eating me alive. The everyday struggle against a terrain that was not meant for human settlement is slowly seeping into my bones. Call it SAD, call is depression, call it too many cobbles for my already sad ankles, or the unclimb-able hills that make every outing a fucking marathon. The weeks and weeks of bland gray nothing that wipes out all memory of what a nice day was. That makes you forget you even like being outdoors and the house arrest sofa coma induces total apathy. The weather and landscape, while awe inspiring, are just not built for my sad little body. And every day I have less inclination to talk a walk, see my friends, run the errands and worst - it sucks all interest in the carpe diem adventures I live for out of my soul.
2: The social structure is untenable. Partly it's a nationalist goverment without an economic leg to stand on. Partly it's the forever chip on the shoulder about the english, americans and consequently the rest of the world. Partly it's the terrible health care and constant construction. But mostly it's a horribly inadequate domestic policy and community spirit which sees 14 year old puking on 500 year old statues. It sees little old ladies being mugged at the end of my road. It's the day I fall down in a construction site, and none of the construction workers help me up. The regulations binding this town aren't improving the quality of life - and they are drawing big chalk lines between people who lose all scope of anything but their own best interests. It's a horrible, sad place. And so dirty. And no, I don't want to live in a city like London or New York that puts those bits far far away from the middle class people like me and pretends it's not there - but I also don't know how we are all supposed to keep living in this hell hole when everyone is so goddamn selfish and alone. Where even making eye contact in the street is too much effort.
3: I have no where to go. All my college friends left. All my current friends are social acquaintences without any real depth, and I am both too tired and too bored to try and reconnect with my life. And my job is pretty much the end of the line. I am the foremost person in my field, and it's a little early to be at my peak. I can't keep doing this, and there is nowhere else to go.
In short: it's a fucking pickled mess of horse shit.
I have to leave Scotland.
Not today, or even next week. Probably not for a year or two yet, if I can manage, but soon. Maybe sooner than expected.
I think there are three main reasons for this, all of which I am coming to accept as valid life choices.
1: It is eating me alive. The everyday struggle against a terrain that was not meant for human settlement is slowly seeping into my bones. Call it SAD, call is depression, call it too many cobbles for my already sad ankles, or the unclimb-able hills that make every outing a fucking marathon. The weeks and weeks of bland gray nothing that wipes out all memory of what a nice day was. That makes you forget you even like being outdoors and the house arrest sofa coma induces total apathy. The weather and landscape, while awe inspiring, are just not built for my sad little body. And every day I have less inclination to talk a walk, see my friends, run the errands and worst - it sucks all interest in the carpe diem adventures I live for out of my soul.
2: The social structure is untenable. Partly it's a nationalist goverment without an economic leg to stand on. Partly it's the forever chip on the shoulder about the english, americans and consequently the rest of the world. Partly it's the terrible health care and constant construction. But mostly it's a horribly inadequate domestic policy and community spirit which sees 14 year old puking on 500 year old statues. It sees little old ladies being mugged at the end of my road. It's the day I fall down in a construction site, and none of the construction workers help me up. The regulations binding this town aren't improving the quality of life - and they are drawing big chalk lines between people who lose all scope of anything but their own best interests. It's a horrible, sad place. And so dirty. And no, I don't want to live in a city like London or New York that puts those bits far far away from the middle class people like me and pretends it's not there - but I also don't know how we are all supposed to keep living in this hell hole when everyone is so goddamn selfish and alone. Where even making eye contact in the street is too much effort.
3: I have no where to go. All my college friends left. All my current friends are social acquaintences without any real depth, and I am both too tired and too bored to try and reconnect with my life. And my job is pretty much the end of the line. I am the foremost person in my field, and it's a little early to be at my peak. I can't keep doing this, and there is nowhere else to go.
In short: it's a fucking pickled mess of horse shit.
17 June 2008
gone
Today I got a letter from a solicitor in Kirkintilloch (a town about an hour from here).
He regreted to inform me one of my authors had died.
A guy I'd spoken to not three weeks ago, though we'd never met face to face. He was on holiday in Samarkand.
It puts things in an odd perspective.
He regreted to inform me one of my authors had died.
A guy I'd spoken to not three weeks ago, though we'd never met face to face. He was on holiday in Samarkand.
It puts things in an odd perspective.
15 June 2008
ah, the english countryside...
We spent this afternoon planning our roadtrip to Kent. For some reason we both really love looking at big old maps and shopping for rental cars and planning on what cute village we might want to have lunch in to break the 12 hour journey.
Plus, we also have this childish habit when our attention spans have dwindled.
One minute we'll be looking at the map discussing the most direct A roads, and the next, we spot some place with a silly name and we're off on an infantile gigggling spree to find the most ridiculous towns and hamlets imaginable.
Kibblesworth, Fockerby, Wombwell, St. Quivox, and Zeal Monachorum are honorable entries, but today's clear front winner:
Horton-cum-Studley, in oxfordshire, near Wormingstall and Oddington.
Plus, we also have this childish habit when our attention spans have dwindled.
One minute we'll be looking at the map discussing the most direct A roads, and the next, we spot some place with a silly name and we're off on an infantile gigggling spree to find the most ridiculous towns and hamlets imaginable.
Kibblesworth, Fockerby, Wombwell, St. Quivox, and Zeal Monachorum are honorable entries, but today's clear front winner:
Horton-cum-Studley, in oxfordshire, near Wormingstall and Oddington.
13 June 2008
epiphany
I had a revelation while brushing my teeth the other morning.
Liam is the only person I have had sex with more than once. Is this because:
a, I have/had committment issues
b, I have catholic guilt problems
c, I am/was a ruddy whore
d, my vag has a Cinderella complex
I like D best.
I also like the fact I looked bloody amazing at the press conference yesterday, made all the major press- and the next morning proceeded to fall down a huge flight of stairs, sprain my foot, bleed and cry in front of burly construction men. My gumpish natural grace is reminding me I have not eshewed my roots entirely. At least it's better than the other way around I guess.
Liam is the only person I have had sex with more than once. Is this because:
a, I have/had committment issues
b, I have catholic guilt problems
c, I am/was a ruddy whore
d, my vag has a Cinderella complex
I like D best.
I also like the fact I looked bloody amazing at the press conference yesterday, made all the major press- and the next morning proceeded to fall down a huge flight of stairs, sprain my foot, bleed and cry in front of burly construction men. My gumpish natural grace is reminding me I have not eshewed my roots entirely. At least it's better than the other way around I guess.
04 June 2008
shopping
It is crunch time. I have just tried on almost every dress in my wardrobe. I have made outfits, made lists and now armed, I am ready to shop.
and there is much to be done.
the target: have something spectacular, stunning and appropriate to all my summer functions. planned encounters include:
Monday 9 June - Directors Private Preview of the Festival Programme - champagne reception for major donors
Thursday 12 June - Programme Launch - morning press conference, The Playfair Library
Tuesday 1 July - Queens Garden Party - high tea with royalty, Holyrood Palace
Saturday 5 July - Iain & Janes Wedding - guest
Saturday 9 August - Book Festival opening party - evening soiree
Friday 19 September - Kate & Jimmy's rehersal dinner - bbq?
Saturday 20 September - Kate & Jimmy's wedding - maid of honour, Meadowbrook Hall
Saturday 25 October - Carol & Heidi's civil partnership & Leeds Castle reception
Friday 31 October - Anika & Justin's Rehersal Dinner - bowling?
Saturday 1 November - Anika & Justin's black tie wedding - Chicago Wyndham, greeter
That 5 month run includes 10 major semi-formal functions. My mostly retro secretary wardobe does not pack enough ammunition for this kind of campaign. And my second in command, god love him, thinks I look good in everything. There is only one solution. Guerilla tactics. And a credit card.
(I act like this is a military operation because I treat all retail outlets as hostile territory.)
So, with a little finessing of the god saving little black dress, little white dress and a few lucky purchases all I need now is:
- a gorgeous dress ( this one I think)
- navy satin peep toe shoes ( like these?)
- a great handbag (this? or this?)
- an chunky onyx or black pearl necklace
- a strapless bra
- a hat i can meet the queen in
- brown heels (I already own these, but they are a little work-ish, if very sexy on)
- an amazing jacket/wrap (possibly in fuscia or copper)
And that is all. Which is good, because the two flights to america, two trips to kent, a chicago hotel, 2 rental cars, 4 wedding presents and lord knows what else means my budget is fucking ridiculous.
Am I good or what?
and there is much to be done.
the target: have something spectacular, stunning and appropriate to all my summer functions. planned encounters include:
Monday 9 June - Directors Private Preview of the Festival Programme - champagne reception for major donors
Thursday 12 June - Programme Launch - morning press conference, The Playfair Library
Tuesday 1 July - Queens Garden Party - high tea with royalty, Holyrood Palace
Saturday 5 July - Iain & Janes Wedding - guest
Saturday 9 August - Book Festival opening party - evening soiree
Friday 19 September - Kate & Jimmy's rehersal dinner - bbq?
Saturday 20 September - Kate & Jimmy's wedding - maid of honour, Meadowbrook Hall
Saturday 25 October - Carol & Heidi's civil partnership & Leeds Castle reception
Friday 31 October - Anika & Justin's Rehersal Dinner - bowling?
Saturday 1 November - Anika & Justin's black tie wedding - Chicago Wyndham, greeter
That 5 month run includes 10 major semi-formal functions. My mostly retro secretary wardobe does not pack enough ammunition for this kind of campaign. And my second in command, god love him, thinks I look good in everything. There is only one solution. Guerilla tactics. And a credit card.
(I act like this is a military operation because I treat all retail outlets as hostile territory.)
So, with a little finessing of the god saving little black dress, little white dress and a few lucky purchases all I need now is:
- a gorgeous dress ( this one I think)
- navy satin peep toe shoes ( like these?)
- a great handbag (this? or this?)
- an chunky onyx or black pearl necklace
- a strapless bra
- a hat i can meet the queen in
- brown heels (I already own these, but they are a little work-ish, if very sexy on)
- an amazing jacket/wrap (possibly in fuscia or copper)
And that is all. Which is good, because the two flights to america, two trips to kent, a chicago hotel, 2 rental cars, 4 wedding presents and lord knows what else means my budget is fucking ridiculous.
Am I good or what?
01 June 2008
culinary creations
I keep thinking I should get a hobby. Take a class, join the gym, do something social and stimulating. But the thing is, I already have an entertaining preoccupation. I am absolutely obsessed with food.
Which is odd, considering i spent the first 23 years of my life being the pickiest eater in the world (no vegatbles, no condiments, no seafood, no sauce of any kind but pizza, no food can touch each other, no fruit but apples and grapes, and pretty much anything with vibrant colours is suspect.) I ate a lot of chicken and mashed potatoes, and sometimes ramen noodles.
But now, I am a gastronomic fiend. I know all the best menus in town, I concoct elaborate three course dinners, I peruse cookbooks in my spare time, and actually tinker with reciepes to improve them. It's becoming a problem.
Part of it is the perks of my psuedo-glamourous job is being wined and dined in rooftop gardens, burnt out castles and chic bistros.
Part of it is a combonation of my health problems and my legacy as green champion mean I am more concious of my ingridients so I am sourcing all local, organic produce to create amazing options.
Part of it is I just grew out a lot of my self inflicted barriers and complexes when i jumped ship and started this new life.
Now, I could wax poetic about my current top five favourite recipies I make brilliantly:
- roasted sweet potato, rocket, & walnut salad with garlic-lemon chicken
- sweet red peppers stuffed with puy lentils and mozzerlla
- homemade strawberry shortcake
- baked pumpkin cheesecake
- homemade leek and sweet potato soup with chili cheese croutons.
or my five favourite edinburgh foods:
- edmame beans sauteed in soy sauce & ginger with a hint of chili
- italian flat bread with carmalised balsalmic reduction
- a top sirloin with rocket on multrees walk
- pechkam's platter of grilled halloumi, pineapple, courgette and breads with a selection of dips: houmous, red pesto, green pesto and peanut satay
- spinach, artichoke and chili chicken dip
But i am really very excited about my vegtable box - my weekly delivery of local produice straight to my door from the nice farmers down the road of this seasons harvest. My first shipment included:
-3 pears
-3 apples
-3 bananas (they have a greenhouse)
-2 kiwis
-2 onions
-1 sweet pepper
-6 carrots
-6 fat cup chestnut mushrooms
-1 giant head of purplish spinachy lettuce
-2 ears of corn on the cob
-and one massive bundle of rhubarb.
I am so excited. I have never had rhubarb. So I have supplimented this list with a jaunt to the local farmers market for meat, bread and the rest of the veg so tonight is going to be a burger feast (with sauteed mushrooms and corn on the cob) followed by rhubarb and raspberry crisp with toasted pecans. it's fucking amazing.
Which is odd, considering i spent the first 23 years of my life being the pickiest eater in the world (no vegatbles, no condiments, no seafood, no sauce of any kind but pizza, no food can touch each other, no fruit but apples and grapes, and pretty much anything with vibrant colours is suspect.) I ate a lot of chicken and mashed potatoes, and sometimes ramen noodles.
But now, I am a gastronomic fiend. I know all the best menus in town, I concoct elaborate three course dinners, I peruse cookbooks in my spare time, and actually tinker with reciepes to improve them. It's becoming a problem.
Part of it is the perks of my psuedo-glamourous job is being wined and dined in rooftop gardens, burnt out castles and chic bistros.
Part of it is a combonation of my health problems and my legacy as green champion mean I am more concious of my ingridients so I am sourcing all local, organic produce to create amazing options.
Part of it is I just grew out a lot of my self inflicted barriers and complexes when i jumped ship and started this new life.
Now, I could wax poetic about my current top five favourite recipies I make brilliantly:
- roasted sweet potato, rocket, & walnut salad with garlic-lemon chicken
- sweet red peppers stuffed with puy lentils and mozzerlla
- homemade strawberry shortcake
- baked pumpkin cheesecake
- homemade leek and sweet potato soup with chili cheese croutons.
or my five favourite edinburgh foods:
- edmame beans sauteed in soy sauce & ginger with a hint of chili
- italian flat bread with carmalised balsalmic reduction
- a top sirloin with rocket on multrees walk
- pechkam's platter of grilled halloumi, pineapple, courgette and breads with a selection of dips: houmous, red pesto, green pesto and peanut satay
- spinach, artichoke and chili chicken dip
But i am really very excited about my vegtable box - my weekly delivery of local produice straight to my door from the nice farmers down the road of this seasons harvest. My first shipment included:
-3 pears
-3 apples
-3 bananas (they have a greenhouse)
-2 kiwis
-2 onions
-1 sweet pepper
-6 carrots
-6 fat cup chestnut mushrooms
-1 giant head of purplish spinachy lettuce
-2 ears of corn on the cob
-and one massive bundle of rhubarb.
I am so excited. I have never had rhubarb. So I have supplimented this list with a jaunt to the local farmers market for meat, bread and the rest of the veg so tonight is going to be a burger feast (with sauteed mushrooms and corn on the cob) followed by rhubarb and raspberry crisp with toasted pecans. it's fucking amazing.
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