Gertsamtkunstwerk

Boqueria Brixton

We went here on Saturday 21 January, just a very few weeks after it opened, and I think it has the potential to be a very good restaurant indeed. The decor and setting is pleasing - stupidly, I took no photos. I found the staff to be friendly, especially considering that I did have a grumpy turn, and the food was exquisite. So the fact that there was a mess-up with service won't deter me from returning. I have, however, read another review where the writer experienced a not dissimilar problem with service. Teething problems, I hope, because if it persists, it will detract significantly from a potentially superb place.

It is on Acre Lane, opposite the Grand Union (formerly Hope & Anchor) near the junction with KIngs Avenue, Clapham Park Road and Bedford Road, so neither Clapham nor Brixton, but a short hop from home (if one regards the 137/417 route as a hop!). Until  a few years ago the premises were a butcher's, and they appear to have used the space well: a bar when you enter, leading into the dining room at the back.

As an aide, but also an important observation, I am not sure Tapas works in England. My experience in Spain involves going into a bar where Tapas are served almost as a casual aside to an evening of drink and conversation, whereas my experience in England is plates called 'Tapas' being served as option or alternative to a main course. The only real difference is that 'main courses' are usually (not always) served as a complete product - protein, sauce, starch and veg, whereas a tapas dish is what it is. So, I ordered a fish dish, Jimmy ordered a meat dish and I said we'd share some patatas bravas & grilled vegetables.

First the potatoes arrived, and, ravenously, we scoffed them. Only when they were finished did Jimmy's meat, and the vegetables arrive. I did enquire about my fish dish, which, eventually came only after Jimmy had finished his meat and the grilled vegetables had gone cold. It was explained that the fish takes time to prepare/cook. I'm more inclined to believe that the order was overlooked. Perhaps they assumed we wanted to share both protein dishes, one after the other, and it was a breakdown of understanding/culture. But they conceded that they're not serving them the authentic Spanish way; in future, I shall be clearer in how we intend to construct our meal. It's misery waiting for your main dish while your partner eats his - lest it go cold, as the vegetables did. I was offered a ham croquette on the house, which doesn't exactly do it for me, and they offered to replace the gone-cold veggies, but I had visions of my fish going cold as I waited for the veg! As it was, it went a bit tepid as we were discussing the issue. 

Fortunately, the Bacalao confitado was very nice, but Jimmy pointed out to me I had a long evening ahead of me in the cinema, and this would be my only meal of the day, so I then ordered revuelto de setas y langostino. I have to say this was the most exquisite egg dish I have ever tasted, and amongst the most beautiful dishes I can recall eating - it's basically scrambled egg with mushrooms and prawns, but so very different from what that phrase conjures up. A perfect blend of flavours, each complimenting the other, and just the right form and texture, neither too greasy nor too dry.

I finished with a Tarta de Santiago, essentially an almond tart. And that, too, was beautiful - a delicate melt-in-your-mouth texture with a robust flavour of almonds.

I can't comment on the wine, because, being mid-afternoon and ahead of a long operatic cinema evening, I chose to drink apple juice, while Jimmy had bottled beer.

To conclude, the staff were very friendly, and the decor is very nicely done. I can't forget the unfortunate hitch in service, or communication, but the food was so exceptional that it would be foolish not to return, perhaps for the Arroz Negro!

 

The Enchanted Island

I saw this last weekend at Clapham Picturehouse. I booked it primarily because Plácido Domingo was it, although I knew it was only a small role. I was intrigued by the concept - mashing up music from various Baroque composers, changing the words and weaving them into a story that combined elements of The Tempest and Midsummer Night's Dream. I knew it could be a dramatic disaster, but the cast featured a good few Baroque-expert singers, and I had high hopes in the production team.

I know there were a few people who didn't like it. Indeed, there were people who didn't like it right from when it was announced. And people who didn't go and see it at the cinema or live but declared it to be a disaster. People who heard it on the radio, who don't like opera seria, and criticised it for being opera seria and declaring that maybe one would have to see it to appreciate it. Unlike those operas, presumably, that were written only to be played to an audio-only audience. 

I enjoyed it. The least enjoyable aspect for me was the story, which was silly. Shakespeare, huh, what was he thinking of, writing such a silly set of stories, huh! But, in fairness, the dramaturgy was played out as silly. Not by clowning around, or giving heavy hints to the audience 'yeah, we know this is daft but we're all sophisticated adults let's pretend we're all in the joke together'. But by something more subtle - playing it straight to get the laughs.

I was intrigued by the production, but feel that the cinema didn't do it justice. I hope that the production will turn up at English National Opera soon. I've no evidence it will, but the same team worked on Satyagraha production which started at ENO before going to New York, and the two companies often share productions. And ENO is a good baroque house: in my view they should focus mostly on Baroque and post WWII (though I don't know what that would mean financially). The production used a lot of projections, which may have been magical in the house, but obviously lost something on the flat cinema screen. More importantly, the team interpreted the story and the opera seria nature intelligently. There was a ballet, the details of which I now forget, but I enjoyed very much at the time

I was initially put off by the inauthentic sound of the orchestra, playing on modern-ish instruments, but I soon got used to it. Even though I continued to miss the authentic baroque sound, I thought the orchestra played well, considering. William Christie was the conductor and he tends to make jolly music sound jolly, and laments sound poignant.

I might as well say I just don't like David Daniels's voice. I doubt anything could change my feelings about it - all the same tone, colour and whinyness. But I know a lot of people rate him, and I couldn't really fault his delivery technically.

The other main stars were Joyce Di Donato, Danielle de Niese and Luca Pisaroni. Joyce was fabulous, such a rich voice in the lower range and a secure top. Danielle wasn't as annoying as I sometimes find her, and she performed well, sounding sweet and bright, and thankfully, she didn't break into an ill-advised dance routine. Jimmy especially liked her performance.

The revelation for me was Luca Pisaroni. I'm not sure I've heard him before, and, as Caliban, he worse so much make-up I don't think I'd recognise him now even at close quarters. Not an especially memorable voice - but that's not a bad thing - he of all the characters moved me with his portrayal of pathos. 

There was considerable strength in depth, with a wide cast of supporting singers playing minor incidental characters. Particularly notable were Elizabeth DeShong as Hermia and Anthony Roth Costanzo as Ferdinand. He had a lovely aria, whic he sung beautifully; just a shame it was interrupted for several long seconds by a loss of satellite signal.

And then there was Neptune, played by Plácido. He had a small part in the second act, but much of his role was in the climax of Act 1. The orchestra played the familiar opening to Zadok the Priest, just building up the excitement, and the chorus sang 'Neptune the Great'. It was all terribly tongue-in-cheek; he was a grumpy irritable king of the depth, and forgetful, due to his immense age, and Danielle de Niese was on her knees in tribute to him being the greatest. Tremendous fun!

In the interval interview he did comment that he wished his part had more to sing, and when they do it again, he'll want a bigger part. 

This performance was on his 71st birthday.

 

 

 

 

 

 Photos: Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera - fairly used in review and critique of Met Opera performance

Abbotsbury Swannery and the Portland Olympic site

 Abbotsbury Swannery is the only managed colony of nesting mute swans in the world, according to Wikipedia.

We visited it on the first Thursday of our Dorset holiday. We followed signs in the road, AA-yellow temporary event signs declaring Baby Swans. Perhaps an overload of cute...! We had previously seen a sign saying 'Drive carefully, doves in road'.

I'm not really sure what to say. We went on a day when the weather was changeable, getting caught in a couple of heavy showers. I'm glad that we went. It was fairly interesting to walk around. Admittedly, we missed feeding time, reported to be spectacular, but I'm not really sure what else to say. Ultimately, we saw lots of swans. And some other birds. I guess if I had written this at the time, I could have evoked the sensuality of walking in the open in summer rain, suitably clad and shod. I could have related tales of the odd, yet inconsequential behaviour of other people. But I was too busy enjoying myself to blog! I did tweet at the time 'Ace'!

 

The previous day had been rainy on-and-off all day. We wandered round Bridport, which was having its usual market day, plus extra stalls to mark the Food Festival. We also sampled a couple of the local pubs. I was in need of a rest day, so we basically took it easy.

After the Swannery, we went to explore the beach at Abbotsbury, but it turned out to be a surprisingly unpleasant experience. It shelves steeply and, of course, is made up of small pebbles characteristic of Chesil Beach. Clearly, other people, mainly sea anglers, were very happy, but the physical challenge of walking made Miserable Gert Miserable.

So, onwards to Weymouth, but we couldn't park near the sea so drove out of town again. Round near the harbour looked nice, but we weren't pausing until we got to Portland, and spent a pleasant hour or so strolling round the site where the Olympics 2012 sailing will take pleace. Surprisingly deserted given that there's a public footpath/cycle-path running through, and a restaurant. I wasn't entirely sure we weren't trespassing!

We drove back through Askerswell, Loders & Uploders, largely because I liked their names. I also liked the villages a lot, got an strange yearning to be the sort of person who lives in a village barely big enough to warrant the name, yet just a short drive from a town. But Jimmy, a city boy through-and-through did not like the narrow twisty lanes and the oncoming drivers, confident in their knowledge of the roads, who showed insufficient consideration for other roadusers unfamiliar with the terrain. Also, all the pubs were shut

We finished up for dinner in the Three Horseshoes in Burton Bradstock. The guidebook recommended the lobster thermidor, so I followed its advice and wasn't disappointed. Jimmy was pleased with his wild rabbit. The guidebook also recommended booking, we hadn't, and we were lucky they could squeeze us in. We didn't actually return there to eat in the end, but we had every intention of doing so. It's a nice pub, they served the ale well, even on a Thursday, which can be bad in some places because of turnover.

More Dorset photos, in reverse chronological order, very much work in progress!

 

 

A riverside walk

I often go out for the day, on the bike or walking. And I usually take photos. In general, I take many more photos in the summer, and I don't always get round to editing the full set until the Autumn or Winter. I am now learning at least to write about the walk, and save it as draft, until the photos are ready. But I didn't think about that back in July.

I could try and write now about a walk that happened more than six months ago, but it would just be a series of 'And then I we went there, and then we went there. And then, and then'.

We walked from Teddington to Twickenham. And, on another day, from Twickenham to Richmond.

So, instead, I give you:

Boats moored at Teddington

Lavender

Lock

Boatyard

Nymphs

 Duck on tyre

 Star and Garter

I didn't even tweet much that first day because I realised just as we were going out that my phone battery was nearly flat and I wanted to conserve it for more utilitarian purposes. On the second part of the outing, coming the weekend after the riots I only seemed to get excited by being escorted across the road by a very visible police presence!

More photos of this day out and others in the photo album London, with more detailed commentary! Also Boats and ships, Water fowl, Naked statues

Separately, I added 3 more photos to Wandle Way, one of the (many) secret treasures of wonderful South London. We cycled along it, so not really ideal for photography or tweeting! 

Wandle Way tweets:

• Cycling the Wandle Way. Coffee break at Merton Abbey Mills #lovelondon
• I suspect by the end of the day I shall be even more brown of face &arms. #easytan
• "Jimmy, my bike's broke. I need a man". Oops #gertfail
• Bike fixed now. As if by magic
• Hackbridge Station, the arse-end of the back of beyond. Only the two of us on platform but they play 'report suspicious behaviour', anyway.
• Home. The cycle ride equivalent of a ramble, a limber-up. Except for huffing and puffing up Nightingale Lane #outofcondition #wandleway

Some of my photo albums are in strict chronological order (some forward and some backward) and others reflect the order in which I uploaded the photos when I first opened this my third blog - and subsequently added to, or not. Confused? Yes, I am!

Chideock and Seatown

We spend the morning and early afternoon on the beach at Charmouth. We had intended to get some food from the cafe inside the Visitor Centre, but it was uninspired mainstream run-of-the-mill. Instead, I suggested we drove down the road to the George Inn in Chideock. My friend had recommended it, and although I didn't know at the time, the couple running it had experience working for Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. We liked it so much at lunchtime that we went back again the enxt week and had one of the best plates of fish-and-chips that one could possibly imagine.

I was unduly excited at seeing a genuine cheque aged Skoda in pristine condition. I am old enough to remember when cars from the then Soviet Bloc were never seen in England, and although Polish and Romanian vehicles are everyday occurences nowadays, this was worth pausing for a photo, and even chatting with the man who I guessed correctly to be its owner.

I had a slightly strange experience in the beer garden. When we arrived there were two women with two children of about 6 and 2, who were being unduly noisy and disruptive. If I hadn't been so hungry I would possibly have said 'Let's go' even though everyone else looked entirely civilised. We got our beers and ordered our food, and Jimmy went to the Gents, putting his beer underneath the table to shade it from the fierce sun. I was sitting at my table, looking to the casual passer-by like a sad solitary drinker. I noticed that the two women went to the Ladies together, leaving the 6 year old in charge of the 2 year old. The 2 year old started screaming; in her buggy, she had her back to where Mum and friend had gone. 2 year olds tend to panic at that. The two adults returned, the 6 year old got a beating because the 2 year old was crying, and the party, thankfully, departed. But up a flight of stairs into the car park across my line of vision. "What you fucking staring at you fat cow?" screeched this 'mother', who, frankly, was a minger. For a split second I felt awful. I had been silently judging her, maybe that reflected in my face, even though I was actually staring into the middle distance directly ahead of me. Then I realised that everybody else in the beer garden turned round to look at me - with looks of friendly, sympathetic support. And when ChavMum had departed, the atmosphere changed to one of relief, as disparate parties of 2 and 3 - couples, elderly mum/middle aged daughter, workmate - relaxed, enjoyed their food and kept themselves to themselves.

I ordered a Ploughman's, which was a good choice! Fashionably served on a piece of bark - and why not - it consisted of three cheeses from neighbouring counties, chunky local bread, local chutney and a tasty enticing salad.

Afterwards we drove down a narrow twisty road, single track without official passing places, to the beach at Seatown, a massive car park and a delightful pub called the Anchor.

"This coastal area of the parish of Chideock was the second wholly-natural World Heritage Site to be designated in the United Kingdom, and enjoys its status as an area of outstanding natural beauty."

We spent an hour or more snoozing in the bright sun halfway up a hill, gazing on the Golden Cap, before retiring to the pub for one more drink. Seeing the menu, and what was served to other customers, we knew we would return. 

In the evening we ate in Bridport, at the George just opposite where we were staying. Not an outstanding pub, but the beer was good, and at the time I recorded that I had a starter of potted crab, toast and a dressed salad, and I was 'stuffed' already. Jimmy had lambs kidneys with bacon in a cream & madeira sauce. I didn't record and no longer recall what we had as main courses, but I clearly remember them being very pleasing, and the generous servings were filling. the staff were friendly and helpful enough, and I was kept entertained by the conversation of the nearby table which appeared to be a meeting of some feminist academic action group. I also noted that the local Pagan Moot had met there the previous week for a talk on Witchcraft & esoteric development. I realised why some people call Bridport 'Notting Hill on Sea"

Update: I later remembered to tweet my main course: Roast cod & duck egg on crushed potatoes, with asparagus & beurreblanc. Delicious!

Holiday snaps

Several months ago I started blogging about a holiday I had been on, several months previously! So here's an attempt to continue!

The weather, which had been so dismal on the Sunday, turned out hot and sunny by Tuesday. So hot and sunny that it was definitely a Beach Day. In as much as West Dorset, of Chesil Beach fame, can ever have 'Beach Days'. 

We drove to Charmouth, not far from Lyme Regis. A place that's obviously geared up for a large influx of tourists, at least in the peak season. A car park and an overflow car park, the Charmouth Heritage Coast Visitor Centre and not one, but two cafés: one in the visitor centre and one on the beach. We chose the latter. There was some reason I asked the question, a sign perhaps. The question was  whether we could hire deckchairs. I was even willing to pay money. Her response: 'We don't get them in until summer.' I said nothing, but coupled with an insipid insult of a cup of tea - the coffee wasn't even worth asking for - I did wonder why these people even bothered running a business, complacent and lazy. Anyone with a bit of a spark and inspiration could really make an attractive business with a nearly captive market.  And, frankly, if I was a seasonal business, I'd have the summer offer available in mid June.

I know that probably reads like a rant, but I do get very frustrated by people who can't be bothered to try in thse places. I'm not talking about places on high roads - the market gets them. but beaches, parks etc, where there's probably a queue of people wanting to run these places, and there is no or very little competition - you kind of feel that they've probably got the lease due to who they know rather than their business case. And it's annoying, because it's the customer who suffers!

But it was fun to walk along the beach, paddling at the water's edge!

 

More Dorset photos

2012 and thanks

Hey, it's a new year. That's assuming that you are inclined to obey the dictates of an artificially constructed linear whatever...

...Every year, I say, I'll celebrate when the weather gets more Spring-like. Fortunately - or not - the weather looks decidedly Spring-like today, and I ought to be out cycling, or something, but I'm not, having 'overdone it' on walking.

Thanks to all of you for your kind messages over the past few weeks. There's stuff going on on the KJ front, that I can't really discuss in public currently. Although, I notice she changed her false accusations of 'cyber bully' and 'misogynist stalker' to 'people are entitled to their opinions but should keep them to themselves'. Which rather suggests she is somewhat ignorant of, amongst many other matters, Article 10 of the Human Rights Act 1998. Or maybe she just doesn't like criticism. Or evidence. Who knows.

In any case, given the provisions of Article 10 of the Human Rights Act, I shall not be silenced by her or anybody, on that subject or any other, other than as indicated in that Article etc.

I think I might blog a bit more in 2012. Perhaps not daily, but maybe 3-4 times a week.

And most of all, thank you to everybody who has given me words of support, on this blog, on Twitter and Facebook, by text and email, by phone and in person. You know who you are, and I know who you are, and believe me, it is immensely comforting to receive such message, even when - especially when - I've been feeling too fragile to respind either personally or promptly.