I was out on the balcony at work yesterday, on my coffee break, supporting my various dependencies. We have quite a nice selection of visiting birds, drawn by sandwich corners and the occasional bit of bird seed someone remembers to bring in. Anyway, so I'm sitting out there reading and a pigeon starts to sidle towards me, despite the clearly non-edible nature of my handbag but then pigeons aren't known for their acuity. I looked over at the pigeon and when it clocked me looking it stopped, regarding me suspiciously, so far so normal. I went back to reading and the next time I looked over the creature is very close, only six inches or so from the side of my chair. This time when it saw me, and this is God's truth, the thing turned it's back on me and pointedly looked at the ceiling. I went back to my book but continued watching it from the corner of my eye, it cast a leery glance over it's shoulder to check I wasn't watching and then continued it nonchalant progress towards to my bag. If it had had the physiological equipment to whistle it would have being doing so. I look back and it does it again, I swear to God, it turned it's back and looked at the ceiling occasionally casting casual little glances back to see if I'ld stopped. You would think this sort of behaviour would be eradicated through natural selection, but maybe cats are responding to socially cutting behaviour these days.
In other news, RTE ran this last week: Squirrel goes nuts in Germany, injures three. "An overly aggressive squirrel attacked and injured three people in the southern German town of Passau before it was taken down by a 72-year-old man." On it's bloody rampage, the squirrel attacked an elderly woman and a construction worker who fortunately had a measuring pole to hand with which he managed to fight the vicious animal off. Experts are unable to reach a consensus as to what may have caused the squirrel to go postal.
Tuesday 26 June 2007
Friday 22 June 2007
The Good, the Bad and the Rampant, Egregious Stupidity
The Bad first: is the appalling treatment of an individual of good character with a valid complaint by a fatcat company, again. The ridiculous, juvenile, farcical response of said company to their actions being made public - really this has to be read to be believed, more than slight elements of Pythonism.
The Good: the individual is Damien Mulley, High King (without opposition) of Irish blogging. He is not backing down, he is maintaining, what I can only assume is a maddening level of calm and reasonable response, he is going to cream them. Dear God, but I love it. The very impressive stats on the readership of this whole farce here.
The stupidity: having (presumably after some thought on their part) pursued at each juncture the course that would do them the most harm in the eyes of the public. They followed this up, winning points for consistency, with another PR balls up this morning.
It is impossible to express how much I am enjoying the obvious discomfiture of this company, a goodly portion of the world is watching, while grinning and it's clear who we're rooting for.
The Good: the individual is Damien Mulley, High King (without opposition) of Irish blogging. He is not backing down, he is maintaining, what I can only assume is a maddening level of calm and reasonable response, he is going to cream them. Dear God, but I love it. The very impressive stats on the readership of this whole farce here.
The stupidity: having (presumably after some thought on their part) pursued at each juncture the course that would do them the most harm in the eyes of the public. They followed this up, winning points for consistency, with another PR balls up this morning.
It is impossible to express how much I am enjoying the obvious discomfiture of this company, a goodly portion of the world is watching, while grinning and it's clear who we're rooting for.
Look upon me, Oh Lord, and smile, for I have bled.....
Apparently (this is according to Beaut.ie in this post) Victoria Beckham was recently spotted reading a book, 'Skinny Bitch', a diet book. It would be difficult to express how much I loath the whole of premise of books like this. I have nothing against maintaining a sensible weight that makes you happier and healthier but the idea that one's goal in life should basically be to eradicate most real and meaningful pleasures in favour of being thin and wandering round so people can see you being thin is one I truly despise. I also happen to believe that food and the sharing it is much more than either pleasure or fuel which sends books like this one into the realms of the blasphemous, but that aside.
Anyway my point here is that while the extent to which I find philosophies like this truly odious is huge, Beaut.ie has picked out one quote that I found really quite charming, behold:
'Whenever you see the words “fat free” or “low fat” think: chemical shit storm.'
Anyway my point here is that while the extent to which I find philosophies like this truly odious is huge, Beaut.ie has picked out one quote that I found really quite charming, behold:
'Whenever you see the words “fat free” or “low fat” think: chemical shit storm.'
Thursday 21 June 2007
Kings of the Earth
Studies have shown, well alright my own meandering, entirely anecdotal and non-empirical experience has shown, that any human being left on their own in a room with a tea-cosy will, at some point, put it on their head. I wouldn't be in the least bit surprised if a proper double-blind study, proved this and indeed, further stated that the tea cosy would be much more popular than an actual hat. It makes you wonder.
Tuesday 19 June 2007
The Ashtown Session
At Speed, my friend's band, has just put out an album called The Ashtown Session. Listen to it here, http://www.atspeedsound.com/ its good.
The bottom line - Who's ok? The Unjustifiable. Pt 4
The UK site has a rather neat little side bar where you can search by company name, location, cosmetics/household product, and vegan/vegetarian approved. You can request a free copy of the hard copy (handbag sized!).
The Unjustifiable. Pt 1
How come the box says 'Not tested on animals' then? The Unjustifiable. Pt 2
Who knows what they're talking about, and who should I listen to? The Unjustifiable. Pt 3
The bottom line - Who's OK? The Unjustifiable. Pt 4
The only names I even recognise here are:
- The Body Shop (owned however by L'Oreal)
- M&S
- Urban Decay/Hard Candy/Too Faced
- Dermatologica
- Neal's Yard
Links to everything else provided though. The list here on the US site gives information about parent companies (i.e ones marked with a little red square are the subsidiaries of evil people) that the UK one so far doesn't. See previous posts for information on Lilly's, E-cover (household products) and Lush.
Urban Decay can be a wee bit difficult to lay your hands on, but many of the larger dept stores and Boots shops will have it. Beaut.ie have being keeping an eye the location and state of the stands, a three parter here, here and here, the comments contain a lot of useful local informtion. Whacking Urban Decay into their search box will produce useful info on which online stockists to investigate, if you've any sense at all you'll pick your colours in person and buy it for half the price online. For what it's worth I love the stuff, it's quality make-up with great texture, insane, intense colours, wonderful packaging and amusing puns -- everything I look for in a range. I'm currently absolutely in love with their mineral make-up which is the best thing since sliced bread toasted.The Unjustifiable. Pt 1
How come the box says 'Not tested on animals' then? The Unjustifiable. Pt 2
Who knows what they're talking about, and who should I listen to? The Unjustifiable. Pt 3
The bottom line - Who's OK? The Unjustifiable. Pt 4
Who knows what they're talking about, and who should I listen to? The Unjustifiable. Pt 3
Personally I go with the HCS, Humane Cosmetics Standard (Leaping Bunny Standard), it's internationally recognised and supported by a number of very reputable organisations. Organisations subscribing to this:
British Union for the Abolition of Vivisection
European Coalition to End Animal Experiments
Coalition for Consumer Information on Cosmetics (USA)
Actually these guys have recently got their crap together and the UK branch have relaunched their website in what is a much more user friendly format, the level of detail provided is less though. However it's great to have decent information with a UK slant, previously the UK site was a very tenuous extension of the US version. The US site has also been cleaned up substantially and is more up to date, having a generally more lived in feel to it now. I think the administration of the CCIS was recently taken over by the Canadian version (or possibly the API?), this may have a lot to do with it.
Anyway back to bunnies, "to be approved a company must no longer conduct or commission animal testing and must apply a verifiable fixed cut-off date - an unmoveable date after which none of its products or ingredients have been animal tested.Each company must be open to an independent audit throughout its supply chain to ensure that they adhere to their animal testing policy and the Standard's strict criteria". My only problem with this is the absence of any statement related to the support of suppliers that conduct animal testing, but in an area seriously clouded by muddy information, this is the straightest I've found. Their list of approvals is also reassuringly (in one way) small.
The Unjustifiable. Pt 1
How come the box says 'Not tested on animals' then? The Unjustifiable. Pt 2
Who knows what they're talking about, and who should I listen to? The Unjustifiable. Pt 3
The bottom line - Who's OK? The Unjustifiable. Pt 4
British Union for the Abolition of Vivisection
European Coalition to End Animal Experiments
Coalition for Consumer Information on Cosmetics (USA)
Actually these guys have recently got their crap together and the UK branch have relaunched their website in what is a much more user friendly format, the level of detail provided is less though. However it's great to have decent information with a UK slant, previously the UK site was a very tenuous extension of the US version. The US site has also been cleaned up substantially and is more up to date, having a generally more lived in feel to it now. I think the administration of the CCIS was recently taken over by the Canadian version (or possibly the API?), this may have a lot to do with it.
Anyway back to bunnies, "to be approved a company must no longer conduct or commission animal testing and must apply a verifiable fixed cut-off date - an unmoveable date after which none of its products or ingredients have been animal tested.Each company must be open to an independent audit throughout its supply chain to ensure that they adhere to their animal testing policy and the Standard's strict criteria". My only problem with this is the absence of any statement related to the support of suppliers that conduct animal testing, but in an area seriously clouded by muddy information, this is the straightest I've found. Their list of approvals is also reassuringly (in one way) small.
The Unjustifiable. Pt 1
How come the box says 'Not tested on animals' then? The Unjustifiable. Pt 2
Who knows what they're talking about, and who should I listen to? The Unjustifiable. Pt 3
The bottom line - Who's OK? The Unjustifiable. Pt 4
How come the box says 'Not tested on animals' then? The Unjustifiable. Pt 2
There are a number of ways around this for the more or less unscrupulous manufacturer. The final product may not be tested on animals but the ingredients used within may be, either by the final manufacturer themselves or by the suppliers they buy from. Another favourite is 'We don't test on animals' may well mean just that,'We pay other people to do it for us', if it's out-sourced a company has a perfect legal right to make the former claim. The simpler version of this is that the supplier of raw ingredients has either tested those ingredients on animals, or may have a general policy of testing.
The really sticky one is 'rolling' verses 'fixed' cut off date. The first means a company will not use any ingredient or product that has been tested on animals within the last x number of years from the current date. This has no real impact on the practice ceasing in the long term. A fixed cut off date means that a company pledges to not "conduct or commission animal tests for any of its finished products, ingredients or formulations after a fixed date". The theory being this will, in the long term, reduce and eradicate the practice. You generally have to look really hard to find what a company's policy on this one is. The wording of this still leaves more wriggle room than I'm happy with, but they've presumably dumbed it down for the website.
And last but not least, The Body Shop clause, we have an ethical policy but the people who own us don't.
The Unjustifiable. Pt 1
How come the box says 'Not tested on animals' then? The Unjustifiable. Pt 2
Who knows what they're talking about, and who should I listen to? The Unjustifiable. Pt 3
The bottom line - Who's OK? The Unjustifiable. Pt 4
The really sticky one is 'rolling' verses 'fixed' cut off date. The first means a company will not use any ingredient or product that has been tested on animals within the last x number of years from the current date. This has no real impact on the practice ceasing in the long term. A fixed cut off date means that a company pledges to not "conduct or commission animal tests for any of its finished products, ingredients or formulations after a fixed date". The theory being this will, in the long term, reduce and eradicate the practice. You generally have to look really hard to find what a company's policy on this one is. The wording of this still leaves more wriggle room than I'm happy with, but they've presumably dumbed it down for the website.
And last but not least, The Body Shop clause, we have an ethical policy but the people who own us don't.
The Unjustifiable. Pt 1
How come the box says 'Not tested on animals' then? The Unjustifiable. Pt 2
Who knows what they're talking about, and who should I listen to? The Unjustifiable. Pt 3
The bottom line - Who's OK? The Unjustifiable. Pt 4
The Unjustifiable. Pt 1
I'm finally getting round to something I've been meaning to do for ages. I'm going to make a spirited attempt to provide the sort of information about animal testing and cosmetics that I would've liked to have found when I began to discover that this ethical consumer lark involved a serious amount of research. Now this is a really complex issue, there are huge and important deviations on definitions, perceptions, interpretations etc and this is just my opinion, best of my ability, blah, blah blah. You know what I'm saying here, I'm probably not in grave danger of being mistaken for Disraeli anyhow.
I decided some time ago that whatever about issues around the necessity of animal testing in medicine, development of new polymers etc, living things suffering horribly so I can have turquoise sparkly eyeliner is pretty indefensible. Having said that, there is absolutely no point in being fascist about it. Unless you are entirely self sufficient, and I mean entirely, your cloths, your pens, your loo roll have in all probability being involved in the practice somewhere along the line. That's no reason not to make reasonable levels of effort though.
It will be divided into three complementary (i.e. I haven't really thought this out properly) posts. So that people that favour Bill Bailey's approach to understanding obscure, tedious and complex things (there are people out there much better qualified to do it) can skip straight to the final one.
I decided some time ago that whatever about issues around the necessity of animal testing in medicine, development of new polymers etc, living things suffering horribly so I can have turquoise sparkly eyeliner is pretty indefensible. Having said that, there is absolutely no point in being fascist about it. Unless you are entirely self sufficient, and I mean entirely, your cloths, your pens, your loo roll have in all probability being involved in the practice somewhere along the line. That's no reason not to make reasonable levels of effort though.
It will be divided into three complementary (i.e. I haven't really thought this out properly) posts. So that people that favour Bill Bailey's approach to understanding obscure, tedious and complex things (there are people out there much better qualified to do it) can skip straight to the final one.
Thursday 14 June 2007
Rich Tea and Sympathy
For a reasonable amount of time now the diss has just stopped, jammed solid. No amount of new angles or reviewing was getting anyone anywhere, although admittedly from a sense of sheer self-preservation I've recently not really being trying all that hard.
But at least this is the trouble one is supposed to have with postgraduate work, what no one tells you is the logistics are going to be at least as bad. I never imagined that what would really begin to wear you out would be: running around administration offices trying to find someone willing to take responsibility for stamping a particular badly needed form; phoning, emailing and turning up in person repeatedly till someone gives you a straight answer to a very simple question you desperately need the answer to; having to chase your supervisor in a fashion more generally associated with six year old boys and maths homework; running/phoning round desperately trying to make alternative arrangements because some administrative officer or academic has changed their mind/declared they never meant that in the first place/said something along the lines of 'Oh you mean I actually have to turn up in person?/have left for two months in Peru having given you eight hours notice, and similar fun and character building activities.
It's not all happened to me of course, a lot of it has happened to my friends. I was having tea with the Ladies one evening this week, it was a really lovely evening, vague and rambly and warm. It's difficult to be boisterous when everyone in the room left chronic exhaustion behind about a month ago and it's only got worse since. We were all sitting or perched round the kitchen somewhere, arguing in a half-hearted fashion over the Roses that Viola had the astounding good sense to run across the road for. I was ruminating out loud on the profound and timeless truth of the idea that asking someone how their thesis is going is a rude question. Jaybee surfaced from marking which chapters of quantitative analysis for idiots I really needed to read (Bless her, God loves a trier) and said "It's not rude, it's obscene."
But at least this is the trouble one is supposed to have with postgraduate work, what no one tells you is the logistics are going to be at least as bad. I never imagined that what would really begin to wear you out would be: running around administration offices trying to find someone willing to take responsibility for stamping a particular badly needed form; phoning, emailing and turning up in person repeatedly till someone gives you a straight answer to a very simple question you desperately need the answer to; having to chase your supervisor in a fashion more generally associated with six year old boys and maths homework; running/phoning round desperately trying to make alternative arrangements because some administrative officer or academic has changed their mind/declared they never meant that in the first place/said something along the lines of 'Oh you mean I actually have to turn up in person?/have left for two months in Peru having given you eight hours notice, and similar fun and character building activities.
It's not all happened to me of course, a lot of it has happened to my friends. I was having tea with the Ladies one evening this week, it was a really lovely evening, vague and rambly and warm. It's difficult to be boisterous when everyone in the room left chronic exhaustion behind about a month ago and it's only got worse since. We were all sitting or perched round the kitchen somewhere, arguing in a half-hearted fashion over the Roses that Viola had the astounding good sense to run across the road for. I was ruminating out loud on the profound and timeless truth of the idea that asking someone how their thesis is going is a rude question. Jaybee surfaced from marking which chapters of quantitative analysis for idiots I really needed to read (Bless her, God loves a trier) and said "It's not rude, it's obscene."
Wednesday 13 June 2007
R & D
Who thought it was good idea to have posts publish with one smart rap of the return key? I mean really, what's good about that?
Marks and Spencer awarded HCS
As of 23rd May, Marks and Spencer cosmetics have been confirmed as complying with the Humane Cosmetics Standard. More info here.
This really is great news, as more main stream retailers come on board the pressure on those remaining increases significantly and on a less profound note, means cruelty free cosmetics are available more easily and in fashionable and varied ranges. Main stream also means spontaneity, ordering on line is all very well but it's not the same as dropping in to buy a little piece of pretty happiness on your way home after a really rubbish day in work now is it?
In summary, huzzah!
This really is great news, as more main stream retailers come on board the pressure on those remaining increases significantly and on a less profound note, means cruelty free cosmetics are available more easily and in fashionable and varied ranges. Main stream also means spontaneity, ordering on line is all very well but it's not the same as dropping in to buy a little piece of pretty happiness on your way home after a really rubbish day in work now is it?
In summary, huzzah!
Tuesday 12 June 2007
Flapjacks
Um, here's a question: Why can you always get flapjacks in health food stores when actually they are mostly full of boldness? I have made several attempts at finding an oatie alternative to the traditional flapjack and only today discovered that a whole packet of equally yum "fruit and spice oat biscuits" has less fat in it than one (though no-doubt very nice) flapjack on the shelf beside. Now i am sorry to be going on about such things but i am terribly fond of flapjacks and did manage to quite successfully delude myself that they were a healthy alternative with coffee at 10.30am not too long ago (and for quite some time) - which might explain why today's worry is how best to get myself back in pre-flapjack (okay okay, amongst other things) shape - boooooo.
Fame (I'm gonna live forever)
We have got our first honourable mention in a blogroll from Daithi over at Lex Ferenda. I found this out very recently because no one reads anyones blogroll after the first time and I've just figured out Technorati. Now I'm under no illusions as to the amount of publicity this little warble is going to bring, but I do know for certain that at least three people read this (not counting the ladies). This is because they're my friends and they care for me and they're contractually bound to listen to me in whatever media I choose to express myself. But punters are punters. So go on, who wouldn't want their copyright law fix of a Tuesday morning?
Monday 11 June 2007
Hunter Crow Ducks
BlueJ is a major Thomas Aquinas fan, but today she is to be compared to another sainted Thomas because yesterday, when we were in the park indulging her love of baby creatures, in this case principally signets and ducklings, she didn't believe me when I told her about the Chinese practice of using ducks to fish with, or as she put it, using 'hunter ducks'. However, Bill B, who has been in China recently, has come to my aid on this one, the only problem being that, like myself, Bill doesn't seem to distinguish between a 'duck' and what is in fact, a 'Cormorant'. (Actually, Bill does, there's a just a bit of a typo.) There is no actual need for the inverted commas around 'cormorant' because these creatures are not so-called cormorants, despite my confusion, they are just cormorants. I feel only very marginally less silly about having mistaken a cormorant for a duck, thanks to the Canadian Wildlife Service Cormorant Fact Sheet, which claims that such creatures are, or perhaps should be, called 'Crow Ducks'. (Just think, it could have been so much worse, I could have been talking about hunter crow ducks.) Having said that, I'm still unsure if the term 'crow duck' applies to all cormorants or only North American continent cormorants and I'm too lazy to find out.
Friday 8 June 2007
A Hawk from a Handbag... Handsaw
The answer to BlueJ's rhetorical question is, me. Not only do I not love handbags, I don't actually understand them. Conceptually, they confound me, they are utterly beyond me. What is it that girls actually use handbags for? How on earth do you carry them when they have such weird-lengthed handles? A couple of years ago, a friend of mine gave me a pink handbag in an attempt, a bootless attempt to make me into a proper girl. ('Bootless' is my da's favourite word at the moment; it has quite an interesting etymology, actually... I looked it up.) The bag was not a success. It falls off my shoulder, I can't fit books (or on one notable occasion, a football) into it and I can't rummage round in it distractedly when I think I've lost my keys or am displacing being upset about something, especially if I have books or footballs in my hands (which I usually do, what with having no where else to put them).
I can't tell how girls judge which ones are good and which ones aren't. BlueJ was put through the exquisite agony of I having me come handbag shopping with her when we were in Florence. Normally, anything that has an aesthetic aspect to it, you can interest me in. I became utterly fascinated, for example, with 'America's Next Top Model' because of the way that the faces photographed, or took makeup, or how colours changed their colours or whatever. For some reason, not handbags. I did try. I tried to see the value of it as an opportunity to learn, and if not that, then the opportunity to be a good friend. No. It was not to be. I think I must have that bit of my brain missing. In Florence, my heart when out to BlueJ because I was such a drag to have along, but also to all the boyfriends who get dragged shopping. (I have in fact never dragged a boy shopping, so this was mingled with me feeling slightly smug on this point.)
I can't tell how girls judge which ones are good and which ones aren't. BlueJ was put through the exquisite agony of I having me come handbag shopping with her when we were in Florence. Normally, anything that has an aesthetic aspect to it, you can interest me in. I became utterly fascinated, for example, with 'America's Next Top Model' because of the way that the faces photographed, or took makeup, or how colours changed their colours or whatever. For some reason, not handbags. I did try. I tried to see the value of it as an opportunity to learn, and if not that, then the opportunity to be a good friend. No. It was not to be. I think I must have that bit of my brain missing. In Florence, my heart when out to BlueJ because I was such a drag to have along, but also to all the boyfriends who get dragged shopping. (I have in fact never dragged a boy shopping, so this was mingled with me feeling slightly smug on this point.)
Unfated Home-comings
I am fond of aetiological myths because they are concerned with questions of essential nature (rerum natura) and ontology; I am writing on them because monotheistism believes in them, while polytheism tends to offer various, conflicting stories. So I should aetiologically introduce this entry, give it its proper genealogy. Incipt: my ex-boyfriend looks and sounds like Orlando Bloom, so I’ve been watching Orlando Bloom films and consequently I have done that which nothing else could make me do; watch Troy. This in turn begat my reading of the Iliad and that caused me to go looking through ancient literature for the missing pieces of the story. There is an inevitability in the way I’ve ended up here, reading Hyginus. There is no point getting your heart broken if you don’t learn anything, and the Buddha agrees with me.
Levi-Strauss nearly said that myths are good for thinking with, and I always find that they are. Orpheus and Eurydice, a story my Mother used to tell me and one that I found profoundly distressing and incomprehensible as a child, is the one that is most difficult and important for to think with, for me anyway; it’s the understanding that I have most difficulty believing. So, for now, the Iliad instead. So many aspects of this particular myth cycle have caught me: that the war begins for much the same reason that the First World War did, that Odysseus is both the most important character and a peripheral one, that while most heroes describe themselves as their father’s sons Odysseus describes himself as his son’s father, that he is to blame for everything and I wonder if its because he is the wrong sort of hero for this sort of narrative, that all the really blokey Greek heroes spend time in drag, and that when, later, the Athenian playwrights told the stories, they were so concerned to tell those of the Trojans and the women; the enemy and the Other. But, here at least, the one that holds me is the diversity of morality of the heroes. Each of the characters is quite specific and particular in how their sense of honour and justice expresses itself and there does not seem to be much in the way of proselytising one to another’s way of thinking, because there does not seem to be a sense that there ought to be consensus. They are deeply concerned with good and evil, just in a way that doesn't make sense to us. My mother thinks that this is because, for the Hellenes, there is no single, central religious text, so there can be no orthodoxy, and more importantly, no hetrodoxy. The Iliad shows an honour/shame society that is more pluralistic than us; that should be impossible.
Levi-Strauss nearly said that myths are good for thinking with, and I always find that they are. Orpheus and Eurydice, a story my Mother used to tell me and one that I found profoundly distressing and incomprehensible as a child, is the one that is most difficult and important for to think with, for me anyway; it’s the understanding that I have most difficulty believing. So, for now, the Iliad instead. So many aspects of this particular myth cycle have caught me: that the war begins for much the same reason that the First World War did, that Odysseus is both the most important character and a peripheral one, that while most heroes describe themselves as their father’s sons Odysseus describes himself as his son’s father, that he is to blame for everything and I wonder if its because he is the wrong sort of hero for this sort of narrative, that all the really blokey Greek heroes spend time in drag, and that when, later, the Athenian playwrights told the stories, they were so concerned to tell those of the Trojans and the women; the enemy and the Other. But, here at least, the one that holds me is the diversity of morality of the heroes. Each of the characters is quite specific and particular in how their sense of honour and justice expresses itself and there does not seem to be much in the way of proselytising one to another’s way of thinking, because there does not seem to be a sense that there ought to be consensus. They are deeply concerned with good and evil, just in a way that doesn't make sense to us. My mother thinks that this is because, for the Hellenes, there is no single, central religious text, so there can be no orthodoxy, and more importantly, no hetrodoxy. The Iliad shows an honour/shame society that is more pluralistic than us; that should be impossible.
Thursday 7 June 2007
Now that's what I call recycling
Who doesn't love handbags? And while I have one or two reliable Rolls Royce's that I wouldn't be without there's something wonderful about a new bag, any new bag. The latter requires a quick turnover and this entails firstly a succession of cheap bags and also a local Oxfam. But what if there was a better way? There have being swap shops around for a while now, but none based in Ireland and the postage and hassle was much offputting for the Irish consumer but no longer - see Style Treaty's long awaited post here. Let all partake of the good news.
Summer Trout
If one is a cook, and by that I mean someone who finding themselves with fifteen minutes to daydream will at some point inevitably start thinking about food, every now and then it occurs to one that given a number of circumstances, the weather, company, time, place, mood, any or all of these things, there would a be a perfect dish to perfectly suit the occasion. One that would indefinably fit all the aspects, that would illuminate and reaffirm all that is good about living. If one is a gourmet, one will be able to bring to mind a small handful of these fine times when all has been helplessly right and something gently magical happened.
Anyway such a dish occurs to me today as being absolutely right for the weather and the time, catching the uplifting sense of lightness and freedom and summertime that pervades the air today. I am however in work and will be till it is dark, at which point it will be too late. So I am going to write it instead.
It is steamed trout. But prepared in such a way as to be a homage to all thing light as butterflies and dandelion clocks and to the sparkling of sun on still water and fragrant and fresh new grass. This being the case everything ideally would be as fresh as humanly possible, just pulled carrots and scallions, herbs from the windowsill, fish still lolloping about in it's bucket. If like me, you happen to lack the flat of the Suir through Instiog, one skilled fisherman, months worth of work in flies, a picnic basket and bottles of beer tied to the bank by string, you're just going to have to buy the fish. This is where a fantastic little trick I pinched from MFK Fisher comes in. The merest wash of soy sauce. Barely there is the key, the sauce will not be tasted in the final dish but will remove that tell-tale 'fishy' (not of course there in properly fresh fish) tang of fish that has been hanging about a bit or has been frozen. By the by, if anyone else grieves for the loss of the kind of tinned sardines that can be bought in France, (where they have vintages of sardines tinned in the best olive oil) this trick works equally well with reasonably decent ones you can get here, bringing them back to something like the taste of those from the continent. Neither of course, being a patch on the real thing fresh from the sea, merely scored and with paper thin garlic in the slits then barbecued whole, but that was a different summer's day.
Having said that less than fresh fish may be necessary, the dish really won't stand anything less the very best of everything else, there's nothing to hide behind.
Here's the recipe, I would humbly recommend something quite dry and light, Riesling maybe, new world would be better probably. And to be honest I don't think that something with bubbles in would go entirely amiss. To follow, strawberries with nothing on them but an hour's sitting in a sunny windowsill, headily aromatic, warm and perfectly pure.
Steamed Early Summer Trout
1 fresh water trout per person (Rainbow or otherwise)
carrots
scallions
green beans
very small courgettes
herbs (chives, dill, parsley (FLAT LEAF), lovage (or celery leaves), sorrel etc anything light and fresh that's not going to overpower everything)
lemons
Have your steamer basket beside you and put the water on to boil with plenty of salt and the juice of half a lemon. Top, tail and string beans and then slice in half length ways (otherwise they'll be nearly raw and what you're after here is bite not crunch). Matchstick the carrots and courgettes and shred the scallions. Put these in the bottom of your steamer basket. Find your self a largish old lettuce leaf and lay this on top, you don't want them to get too lemony. Score the lemons (to release the oil in the peel, scrub them first if they're waxed) and slice them. Roughly chop the herbs.
Lay lemon slices on top the veg (with lettuce leaf/ves in between), then a layer of the herbs. Rub a little salt into the fish, have brushed very lightly with the soy if this was necessary. If the fish has been filleted whole put some more lemon and herbs in the cavity. Lay the fish on the herbs, and lay more herbs then a final layer of lemon on top.
Put the whole thing on to steam, keeping the water at a brisk but not mad boil. I would expect it to take between fifteen minutes and a half hour depending on thickness of fillet, size of pot etc. Essentially cook till fish is done, using the time honoured culinary techniques of poking, smelling and looking. Don't have the lid off too often though, or it will all go horribly wrong. I'm clearly crap at writing recipes for people with little or no experience of cooking, and frankly I can't be bothered trying. I don't really know how useful it is anyway, the only way to really get better is bugger it up, work out why and know better for next time.
Extract your fish and (obviously) discard lemon and herbs. Serve each fish with the veg (don't even think about touching them with oil or butter), lemon wedges, lettuce and a tomato and oregano salad.
Anyway such a dish occurs to me today as being absolutely right for the weather and the time, catching the uplifting sense of lightness and freedom and summertime that pervades the air today. I am however in work and will be till it is dark, at which point it will be too late. So I am going to write it instead.
It is steamed trout. But prepared in such a way as to be a homage to all thing light as butterflies and dandelion clocks and to the sparkling of sun on still water and fragrant and fresh new grass. This being the case everything ideally would be as fresh as humanly possible, just pulled carrots and scallions, herbs from the windowsill, fish still lolloping about in it's bucket. If like me, you happen to lack the flat of the Suir through Instiog, one skilled fisherman, months worth of work in flies, a picnic basket and bottles of beer tied to the bank by string, you're just going to have to buy the fish. This is where a fantastic little trick I pinched from MFK Fisher comes in. The merest wash of soy sauce. Barely there is the key, the sauce will not be tasted in the final dish but will remove that tell-tale 'fishy' (not of course there in properly fresh fish) tang of fish that has been hanging about a bit or has been frozen. By the by, if anyone else grieves for the loss of the kind of tinned sardines that can be bought in France, (where they have vintages of sardines tinned in the best olive oil) this trick works equally well with reasonably decent ones you can get here, bringing them back to something like the taste of those from the continent. Neither of course, being a patch on the real thing fresh from the sea, merely scored and with paper thin garlic in the slits then barbecued whole, but that was a different summer's day.
Having said that less than fresh fish may be necessary, the dish really won't stand anything less the very best of everything else, there's nothing to hide behind.
Here's the recipe, I would humbly recommend something quite dry and light, Riesling maybe, new world would be better probably. And to be honest I don't think that something with bubbles in would go entirely amiss. To follow, strawberries with nothing on them but an hour's sitting in a sunny windowsill, headily aromatic, warm and perfectly pure.
Steamed Early Summer Trout
1 fresh water trout per person (Rainbow or otherwise)
carrots
scallions
green beans
very small courgettes
herbs (chives, dill, parsley (FLAT LEAF), lovage (or celery leaves), sorrel etc anything light and fresh that's not going to overpower everything)
lemons
Have your steamer basket beside you and put the water on to boil with plenty of salt and the juice of half a lemon. Top, tail and string beans and then slice in half length ways (otherwise they'll be nearly raw and what you're after here is bite not crunch). Matchstick the carrots and courgettes and shred the scallions. Put these in the bottom of your steamer basket. Find your self a largish old lettuce leaf and lay this on top, you don't want them to get too lemony. Score the lemons (to release the oil in the peel, scrub them first if they're waxed) and slice them. Roughly chop the herbs.
Lay lemon slices on top the veg (with lettuce leaf/ves in between), then a layer of the herbs. Rub a little salt into the fish, have brushed very lightly with the soy if this was necessary. If the fish has been filleted whole put some more lemon and herbs in the cavity. Lay the fish on the herbs, and lay more herbs then a final layer of lemon on top.
Put the whole thing on to steam, keeping the water at a brisk but not mad boil. I would expect it to take between fifteen minutes and a half hour depending on thickness of fillet, size of pot etc. Essentially cook till fish is done, using the time honoured culinary techniques of poking, smelling and looking. Don't have the lid off too often though, or it will all go horribly wrong. I'm clearly crap at writing recipes for people with little or no experience of cooking, and frankly I can't be bothered trying. I don't really know how useful it is anyway, the only way to really get better is bugger it up, work out why and know better for next time.
Extract your fish and (obviously) discard lemon and herbs. Serve each fish with the veg (don't even think about touching them with oil or butter), lemon wedges, lettuce and a tomato and oregano salad.
Tuesday 5 June 2007
The Muck and the Glory Pt I
Or 'Another thing about the youth of today'.............
is that they wouldn't know a decent day's work if it jumped up and bit them.
Our garden is surrounded by laylandii trees, they were plugged by all the garden centres five to ten years ago as being the ultimate hedging plant. They're evergreen, dense and extremely quick growing. What nearly everyone failed to mention is that 40ft is the minimum mature growth height and most will grow even taller. This makes you popular with your neighbours. We've being putting off dealing with them for about five years now, mostly because we haven't the faintest idea how to go about it. Our garden is an acre give or take which is actually only a biggish suburban size but that works out at about 400ft of circumference densely packed with trees of between 20 and 30ft tall. In short that's a lot of tree.
Anyway the bad winds this winter made a number of them unsafe and procrastination was no longer an option. We got a quote from a man, and then another man - to be sure. The cost quoted would have sent the brother to Yale for a year, regardless of what he got in his leaving. So DIY is the only option.
The family, two of Dad's mates (duly bribed and blackmailed), three chainsaws, many other manual saws, several sets of loppers, (one pair nicely cantilevered), three of the brother's friends in dire need of cash and two dogs assembled, ready for action. The Brother and brother's friends are all around and about eighteen. We decided that stamina rather than sense was probably they're strength (this turned out to be only partially correct), so the plan was myself, Dad and the two mates would take the trees down with the chainsaws and the lads would clear the timber, trim and stack it.
It dawned a lovely fine morning, fresh and sunny and we got stuck in. The brother and the B'sFs having being booked for nine, arrived three hours after this. Their task was explained, basic safety procedures underlined, with explanatory gestures, and then emphasised a final time for luck before we went back to work. At this point Dad was halfway up a selected tree, topping it, with me roped up to the thing trying to make sure that next door's extension stays where they put it. We'ld stopped for a feasibility study (so to speak) when the Brother and a B'sF trot by carrying a bough of roughly eight inches in diameter between the two of them. Dad suggested, with some force, that given the entire garden was already knee height in verdant, ferny foliage, there might be more efficient ways of approaching the task.
They continued to prat about, poking gingerly and with great suspicion at some of the lighter branches till someone roared at them to clear off out of the way before one of the falling trees crowned them. Sometime later, there is such a scatter and squealing from the other side of the garden as would have made any Swiss finishing school proud. Given the combination of other peoples' children, even if they are 6ft4 children, and sharp objects, all responsible adults drop everything and sprint across to find out whether it's just going be stitches or if we need a tourniquet. Turns out it's a dead rat. We're fairly rural, there are a lot of rats and some of them are perforce, dead. Personally I find a dead rat a lot less worrying than the live ones. The children are again informed, firmly, that if they fancy making noise like that again someone had bloody better have lost at least a hand.
We broke for lunch about 12.30. The brother and friends had made a neat little pile of small boughs about a foot high. The rest of us had taken down three trees, taken the boughs off, cut the main trunk down, cleared the ground under where we were working and stacked the timber that was good for logs. The brother and friends indicated that they felt it best they retire from the field due to crippling and agonising injuries ranging from blisters to a severe case of grazing. We said it was probably wise if they did so.
is that they wouldn't know a decent day's work if it jumped up and bit them.
Our garden is surrounded by laylandii trees, they were plugged by all the garden centres five to ten years ago as being the ultimate hedging plant. They're evergreen, dense and extremely quick growing. What nearly everyone failed to mention is that 40ft is the minimum mature growth height and most will grow even taller. This makes you popular with your neighbours. We've being putting off dealing with them for about five years now, mostly because we haven't the faintest idea how to go about it. Our garden is an acre give or take which is actually only a biggish suburban size but that works out at about 400ft of circumference densely packed with trees of between 20 and 30ft tall. In short that's a lot of tree.
Anyway the bad winds this winter made a number of them unsafe and procrastination was no longer an option. We got a quote from a man, and then another man - to be sure. The cost quoted would have sent the brother to Yale for a year, regardless of what he got in his leaving. So DIY is the only option.
The family, two of Dad's mates (duly bribed and blackmailed), three chainsaws, many other manual saws, several sets of loppers, (one pair nicely cantilevered), three of the brother's friends in dire need of cash and two dogs assembled, ready for action. The Brother and brother's friends are all around and about eighteen. We decided that stamina rather than sense was probably they're strength (this turned out to be only partially correct), so the plan was myself, Dad and the two mates would take the trees down with the chainsaws and the lads would clear the timber, trim and stack it.
It dawned a lovely fine morning, fresh and sunny and we got stuck in. The brother and the B'sFs having being booked for nine, arrived three hours after this. Their task was explained, basic safety procedures underlined, with explanatory gestures, and then emphasised a final time for luck before we went back to work. At this point Dad was halfway up a selected tree, topping it, with me roped up to the thing trying to make sure that next door's extension stays where they put it. We'ld stopped for a feasibility study (so to speak) when the Brother and a B'sF trot by carrying a bough of roughly eight inches in diameter between the two of them. Dad suggested, with some force, that given the entire garden was already knee height in verdant, ferny foliage, there might be more efficient ways of approaching the task.
They continued to prat about, poking gingerly and with great suspicion at some of the lighter branches till someone roared at them to clear off out of the way before one of the falling trees crowned them. Sometime later, there is such a scatter and squealing from the other side of the garden as would have made any Swiss finishing school proud. Given the combination of other peoples' children, even if they are 6ft4 children, and sharp objects, all responsible adults drop everything and sprint across to find out whether it's just going be stitches or if we need a tourniquet. Turns out it's a dead rat. We're fairly rural, there are a lot of rats and some of them are perforce, dead. Personally I find a dead rat a lot less worrying than the live ones. The children are again informed, firmly, that if they fancy making noise like that again someone had bloody better have lost at least a hand.
We broke for lunch about 12.30. The brother and friends had made a neat little pile of small boughs about a foot high. The rest of us had taken down three trees, taken the boughs off, cut the main trunk down, cleared the ground under where we were working and stacked the timber that was good for logs. The brother and friends indicated that they felt it best they retire from the field due to crippling and agonising injuries ranging from blisters to a severe case of grazing. We said it was probably wise if they did so.
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