Curse you, petits fours…!

As I mentioned recently, one of my ’40 Days of Fun’ to celebrate this landmark birthday took place last weekend, when 4 of us went to dine at Raymond Blanc’s wonderful Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons in Oxfordshire. We took the only option suitable for true gastronomes and plunged headlong into the 10-course Menu Decouverte…
(those of you who get bored easily by descriptions of a fabulous meal might as well pack up now – apologies if I run out of adjectives)

The amuse-bouche was a tartare of wild salmon in a chilled escabeche salad. This was fresh, light and tangy: the soft flesh of the salmon contrasted with crunchy julienne vegetables.

Then perhaps came the most conventional plate – a disc of duck liver confit, whose accompaniments were intriguing: wonderful toasted sourdough, a mango chutney spiced with cinnamon (not sweet at all), fresh, raw almonds and terrific soused cherries.

The most surprising course read very simply: a salad of tomatoes, basil, anchovy and buffalo mozzarella. A fleshy disc of beefsteak tomato sat on top of and surrounded by wonderfully a rich and aromatic basil oil dressing. Perched on top was a small egg of what looked like mozzarella, but was in fact an astonishing tomato sorbet. Perfect in texture, utterly surprising and pure concentrated tomato flavours. It almost moved me to tears. Honestly.

We has chosen the sommelier’s recommendation for white wine – something from the Languedoc. Served very cold  alongside the salad, its fresh acidity married perfectly with the tomato. As it warmed up in the decanter and in the glass, its character changed, became richer, more perfumed and oily. Which was the perfect partner to the subsequent dishes…

The tremendous staff brought us a small bowl, in which was nestled a courgette flower, stuffed with crab meat, almost in the form of a mousse. They then poured into the bowl a splash of lemongrass consomme – which was itself  like a crabshell stock and brought out the crab meat’s flavour wonderfully. All this was  on top of shredded and pickled mouli, which added bite and texture.

Then came a small fillet of pan-fried lemon sole, wonderfully browned on top, served with a dash of intense cauliflower puree and beautiful whole girolle mushrooms. Again, as ever, combinations of flavours and textures that went together wonderfully, and which separately were amazingly potent.

The only meat course was melt-in-the-mouth roasted lamb – loin, shoulder and a kidney – served with a coco bean sauce (not unlike cassoulet) and another wonderful puree of aubergine. As we had fancied some red wine (a terrific St Julien), it felt only appropriate that we tackle the wonders of le chariot de fromages…

…or, as it became known, the course too far. The cheese is an optional extra, but our eyes were a-poppin’… But (and it shames me to say it) we couldn’t finish them. We had three desserts ahead of us. And a glass of wonderful Loire dessert wine – not too sweet, again the perfect recommendation from the sommelier.

The first was a ‘raviole’ of apricot with almond jelly, peach and lavender. It was as though the chefs had poached an apricot, then scraped out most of the flesh, leaving a thin ‘skin’ behind, which was then stuffed with the most fragrant jelly. That doesn’t even begin to do it justice. It was exquisite.

Then came a ‘rose and raspberry soft meringue’, which was just as it sounded. A beautiful, soft, creamy meringue filled with a rose scented puree that oozed out as you broke into the meringue, surrounded with jellied cubes of raspberry, a soft vanilla cream and chunks of marshmallow.

By this stage we were truly struggling, and cursing the long-anticipated petits fours. The final dessert was a cup of rich chocolate creme topped with a powerful coffee foam. And it was fabulous, like everything else. At this point we staggered gratefully from the table to the lounge, where the petits fours were served alongside our coffee. They were fantastic.

Apologies if this is over-indulgent – what do you expect? We spent a lot of money and we got terrific value for money. If I seem in awe of Le Manoir, it’s probably because I am. If you appreciate fine dining and wonderful service, I urge you to go. Save up the money if you need to, but go.

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You gotta keep the devil down in the hole…

I know that I’m late on The Wire. I know I only fleetingly recall rave reviews and discussions on the sort of podcasts I like to listen to. And I know that when BBC 2 started showing episodes night-after-night earlier this year, my first thought was ‘I will not have time to keep up with that”.

IMHO The Wire is a m*********ing masterpiece. I’m approaching the end of (the slightly lower-key, more profound) Series 3, and Series 4 starts tomorrow. I can’t wait. Like the red-tops Boadie and the crews hustle, it’s addictive.

OK, not addictive like Heroin, but you get my drift.

The subject material is pretty much unremittingly bleak. Small victories or moments of lightness are chinks in the depths of darkness. Good people do bad things and get away with it. Bureaucracy stops good things from happening. Bad people get away with bad stuff because that’s how the world works. Or doesn’t work. Deal with it. Move on.

Every character is finely drawn, even the incidental bit-parts. Noone seems beyond redemption, and likewise noone (and I mean noone) is a bona fide saint. Even Avon Barksdale has charisma and charm, sometimes even in a good way. Stringer Bell is bringing the world of classroom economic theory to The Game – why didn’t I apply myself better during lectures?! The corner crews each have their own personalities. 

But the writers and makers don’t seem to judge their subjects. They portray the most unsympathetic characters openly and sympathetically. Just because Omar seems to be an amoral gangster and thief doesn’t mean he can’t take his grandmother to church, feel pain when a friend is killed, or make jokes we want to laugh at.

A friend advised me when I started watching to keep the subtitles on, to help understand the constant street slang and police jargon. He was right. As well as not pandering to normal TV codes of good-guys and bad-guys, The Wire also makes few, if any, concessions to the audience. We are hurled into the 7th Circle of Hell that is West Baltimore, or the Docks, or City Council hearings, and left to get on with it. This approach forces us to connect and engage with the characters and situations, make our own judgements and opinions. Which makes for a challenging and truly rewarding experience.

There are countless examples of brilliant writing, acting and production in every episode, extreme subtlety and shocking violence. And amidst the darkness, often moments of brilliant humour. One of my favourite scenes is from episode 4 of the first series. At this point we’re still getting to know the characters, in fact we’re still trying to figure out what is going on. When I first saw it my jaw hit the floor – “they can’t do that, not on American TV”. It’s a brilliant, near-silent depiction of two ‘natural po-lice’ doing their job at a crime-scene instinctively, brilliantly.

NB: this clip contains images and language that many people will find offensive.
DEFINITELY not suitable for children.

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There’s skint, and there’s Middle Class skint…

My very good friend Julian put me in my place last week. We were chatting about holiday plans (or lack thereof) as I was loading his camping gear into my car to borrow for a trial weekend. You see, we’re not having a ‘big’ holiday this year, because we’re skint. Or apparently, we’re middle class skint. Not the same thing at all.

I celebrated my 40th Birthday in March. Or rather, my birthday was in March, but I’ve been celebrating it all year. Loosely themed ’40 Days of Fun’, 2009 has been an excuse for me to indulge myself, enjoy myself and try out a few new things.

Some of these have been cheap, even free. We witnessed the serene and inspiring migrating birds at Slimbridge, we built snowmen and igloos in the garden when I couldn’t get into work. We’ve entertained friends for lunch and dinner, had picnics at Westonbirt (where I occasionally volunteer), and we had a terrific time on the beach at Bantham.

Others have been not so cheap. A fabulous day drinking champagne and Guinness at The Cheltenham Gold Cup, theatre trips to see Joseph, The BFG, Waiting for Godot and Othello. We enjoyed a beautiful weekend in The Lakes, staying at our perennial favourite getaway, Overwater Hall. And at the end of this month we’re going to Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons for dinner. Not to mention seeing U2 in Cardiff or England-Australia at Lords.

And then there’s the experiences I’ve tried. Clay pigeon shooting, a fish cookery course at the excellent Chef’s Table right here in Tetbury, wine tastings, my first (and probably only) surfing lesson.

Writing all this down feels very self-indulgent. And it probably is. But it is all (just about) budgeted and paid for. Middle class skint indeed.

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’5 words and a pack shot’

I read plenty of advertising and marketing trade magazines, emails and blogs, and honestly most of it is self-serving, trivial bollocks served up as if it’s clever, vital, somehow important. And then occasionally I read something that prickles my back, makes me wish I’d been involved. Some of the writing that describes these campaigns fits the usual hyperbolic tone. But to my mind the aims of these campaigns are noble, and the executions are genuinely moving.

The first is an Australian campaign for the UN using whizzy interactive posters to alert people to the stories of minorities and other marginalised groups. It is actually a clever use of traditional mainstream bus-shelter posters with interactive mobile technology. The marketing cynic within me wonders whether there wasn’t enough money for TV. But if there wasn’t, good. This is way better than any preachy TV campaign could have been.

The other campaign is an even simpler, more striking use of posters, where the medium for once really is the message. The Zimbabwean ran billboards of worthless Zimbabwean bank notes to raise awareness and promote readership of the newspaper, and recently won the Cannes Lions Grand Prix award for outdoor advertising.

The ads outline how the regime of Robert Mugabe had introduced a 55 per cent import ‘luxury’ duty on The Zimbabwean, making it unaffordable for the average Zimbabwean. The campaign went further, distributing trillions of dollars worth of Zimbabwean money stamped with provocative messages and a call for support for The Zimbabwean.

There are further images on The Zimbabwean’s Flickr photostream.

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Me & My Important Thoughts

When I first started this I had envisaged quite a light, dare-I-say-it funny tone of voice. But reviewing my first month or so of posts, it all seems pretty serious. So hopefully this is a light interlude. At work we have developed a couple of email signoffsamong the team, especially if we’re responding to something infuriating or plain annoying.

</rant> or </what I reckon> are our efforts to demonstrate that, yes, we’re ranting about something RUBBISH, but we know we are, and that makes it OK… This in itself was inspired by the wonderful Mitchell and Webb sketch parodying “interactive” news.

Radio 5 Live’s Breakfast Show used to be my wake-up-call of choice, but now it bangs on about “your views on the stories that matter to you”. Er, I already know what my views on stuff are. I don’t want to hear other people’s views, because that’s not the purpose of a news programme. And the stories that matter to other people aren’t often the same as mine. I’m sad for Jacko and his family, but what about the traffic on the A46 this morning, care to update me on that? How’s the parking situation in Victoria Park?

Blogging, Twitter, Facebook, Youtube etc etc etc have democratised opinions. Anyone can slap up a video or tweet or status update or blog post (like this one) exclaiming their important thoughts. And mostly this is a Good Thing. But I wish news channels would do their job, which is firstly to inform us with facts and analysis, not rely on us for content.

When the Big Freeze hit the UK for a few days last winter, the TV news was inundated with snapshots from back gardens all over the country. Ooh! Look at that bird table in Dunstable… But I want to know if the motorways are clear, if it’s safe to travel. Why won’t you tell me?!?!

Hope you liked the clip.

</rant>

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