Flibbertygibbet

Going underground - Supper Club

I love food.

I love my neighbourhood.

I really love finding good food in my neighbourhood. So I was quietly giddy when I heard about a new local supper club - essentially it's when someone opens their home to guests (in return for a 'donation' as of course not being a real restaurant they can't have paying customers) and lets loose their culinary imagination - and as much talent as they can muster - on their menu.

We really, really hit it lucky.

Simon and Yuen of Fernandez and Leluu are avid foodies and wonderful hosts - frankly, they seem almost surprised by the overwhelmingly positive reaction they seem to be receiving, but they shouldn't be. From their blog you can see how much time, patience and passion they invest in this project - in addition to fulltime jobs.

I coveted their vintage typewriters. I adored the napkins and crockery.

 

MENU

Hot Sweet Sour Soup With Catfish, Tomatoes, Pineapple & Beansprouts

Frogs Legs Teriyaki w/ Vietnamese Parsley & Sweet Basil Seed Cocktail

Vietnamese Spring Rolls With Pork, King Prawns, Black Fungus & Glass Noodles

Cubed Tuna Sashimi With Soya Sauce, Ginger & Spring Onions & Ferdie Chips

Seared Peppered Fillet Of Beef With Sugar Snap Peas, Cucumber Salad & Kabocha Squash Salad With Satsuma, Sake, Soya & Mirin Dressing

 

Red Curry With Chicken & Butternut Squash Served w/ Steamed Rice

Matcha Green Tea Ice Cream With Ginger Biscuits

Yeah, by the end my photography skills had gone by the wayside. Too busy concentrating on food.  Marvelling at how we could possibly fit in the ice cream and ginger to-die-for shortbread. Wanting to move in. That sort of thing.

Dr Sketchy's

Although I did take Art all the way through secondary school, like everyone else I had my specialisations.  Calligraphy.  Pottery .  Textiles.  Lino-cutting.  Ok, anything except life-drawing. Naturally that was a compulsive discipline. For our finals, the model happened to be one of the guys from our clique. As soon as he walked into the circle I hissed orders at him and insisted he sat with his back to us for the session – because “drawing faces is hard”.

Despite this – well, hell, it’s a long time since I was in school – I said yes to Dr Sketchy’s at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern. It’s the brainchild of New Yorker Molly Crabapple but I understand that sessions run all over the world now following the same format: burlesque + drawing. 

Dr Sketchy’s incomparable MC, Dusty Limits, introduced the first artiste, Miss Fancy Chance and I immediately had flashbacks to White Mischief last Halloween, where she did a completely unconnected Grim Reaper routine that didn’t so much bring the house down as furrow brows and send people scurrying for the door. She’s definitely got more potential as a burlesque artist though after her first routine I may never view he old Star Trek in the same way (imagine the lovechild of Sulu and Uhuru, as she bills herself, with pasties).

After her performance, she was joined on stage by Dusty and the audience participation part of the evening commenced.  After warm-up exercises such as drawing without looking down at the page, quick-fire two minute sketches, and drawing with your left hand, we progressed to longer poses and themes. (“Five minutes, and your theme is... Nobel Peace Prize!”) with prizes  from the fabulous Lost At Sea awarded for the best rendition.  (I’d like one of their tattoo wooden necklace please, to temporarily prevent me from getting a real one.*)  After a break, the second model was Mr Meredith who I’d also seen before at Wilton’s Music Hall as one of the highlights in a rather mixed revue.  You don’t get that many male burlesque artists and he’s probably best that I’ve seen. He’s all about the corsets and hold-ups, rather than crap magic and rabbit pouches, ewww. The winning sketch for  the ‘Mr Meredith’s dark side’ theme was astoundingly good, with imaginative demonic shadows.

(From Dr Sketchy's Facebook page)

It’s a funny, tipsy, silly evening at Dr. Sketchy’s and I heartily recommend it.  Participants range from people who really are talented, to those who come for the beer and then seem to find themselves clutching pencils with hands hovering expectantly over the page. What’s incredibly heartening about it is that the organisers’ genuine passion for helping everyone from the aspiring Picassos to the utterly cack-handed amongst us to draw, enjoy drawing and make a little progress even over the course of an evening shines through.  Next time I’ll bring more paper.

* Kidding, Ma, I'm kidding.  For now, anyway.

The Making Space

Making at the Making Space.

What’ll we do this weekend, we pondered.  Shopping? Bit of X-Factor?  Mooch to the pub for lunch?  Oh come, hardly.

 

No, let’s paint dental alginate on our faces in an east London workshop and then not think about losing all of our fingers. Ok just to be completely clear, Simon Aronson who runs The Making Space would never let anything like that happen – this is a professional workshop and it’s run as such.  We went there to make custom masks - you know, for Halloween, for parties, for trips to Tesco's on rainy Tuesday mornings. 

After mixing up alginate power 1:1 with water, you paint it over your model’s face, on top of Vaselined eyelashes and brows. I jumped up and said I’d go first as I’d suddenly and rather inconveniently remembered that frankly, I hate stuff like this.  

Probably the least comfortable part for me when my eyes were covered and the world goes very dark indeed, before wetted strips of plaster-impregnated bandage are laid over the top. Just a little nostril space left open and me looking like I'm melting, mellllllllting.  Apart from that, the worst part is not being able to contribute to the discussions around you when you’re trapped behind the layers (it was lucky that Emma made her Status Quo revelation before Lucy was actually plastered up, because it made us laugh so much that I think Lucy might have ended up with a rather wobbly mask) and it’s a fairly quick process.

 

The alginate provides a copy of all the lumps, bumps and contours of your face, the plaster strips form a shell for it to sit in. You nestle this mould in a container and then fill it with plaster of Paris to make an exact replica of your face.  It sets relatively quickly though it does continue to generate heat for some time afterwards.  Once it’s dry or almost dry, you peel off the mould and you’re left looking at a disturbingly pasty, chalky replica of yourself.

Ready shredded paper is the basis of the papier mache that you use to fashion your mask.   I initially thought that I’d do something quite flat and then build up design using milliput afterwards.  Then I couldn’t stop thinking about the masks in V for Vendetta and suddenly my mask bore the cheekbones I’ve always wanted. Lucy and Emma made fabulous nature-inspired creations – I think Emma’s reminds me of Uma Thurman as Poison Ivy!  Day two of the workshop is solely taken up by cutting, sanding, filling and then surface decorating, then varnishing at the end. I wanted a cracked patina to mine so Simon suggested painting it red first (yay – my favourite colour; and also the traditional base for gold) and then rubbing it lightly with a gold wax. Finally I used a matte varnish all over, and blocked out everything but the cheekbones which were glossed to a candy-apple shine. 

Because it’s fitted precisely to your face, the mask sits close and is comfortable to wear plus presumably will stay on better. Simon is amazingly patient and obviously gets a kick out of helping people to realise whatever twisted  or soaring vision is tumbling out of their heads. There are lots of other courses on offer.  I didn’t think I had much interest in making chainmail initially – then I thought ‘silver jump rings’...

It’s Bunker Time

Caroline mooted the idea of the Blitz party a couple of weekends ago, and in the spirit of saying yes to everything, I jumped at the chance because it’s one of those things we always miss and then grumble about.  Fortune smiled on me and I even managed to win a pair of tickets for us, hah!

After a girly supper for us and another friend, Caroline put her coiffeuse skills to work and created a cute 40s do for me (cue use of a scissored donut and approximately four dozen hair clips for my slippery fine hair) and I’d managed to find an appropriate 40s style dress lurking in the wardrobe, you know, as you do.  

By the time we reached Shoreditch High Street, there were girls sporting Victory Roll hair and men in uniform popping up everywhere. The Blitz Party takes place in railway arches which are kitted out in bomb-shelter fashion, complete with sandbagged bar.  Probably so there’s something padded for you to fall against when you finally slump there after beating the queue to the bar, then pass out at the prices. ‘Refreshments’ included cheese and pickle sandwiches, assembled before your eyes.  ‘Didn’t manage to catch the names of the bands – one studiously styled in WWII outfits, with two very glamorous singers; and then a slightly left choice, a crazy gypsy kletzmer ensemble who kept the crowds entertained.

One of the genius things about the Blitz Party is that dressing-up is rather more than encouraged, it’s practically mandatory. We saw about three people who were in civvies (non-period) who all looked decidedly uncomfortable.  I’m not surprised, the rest of us looked fabulous, darling.  Even more impressive is the fact that all the guys really live up to the occasion – and it’s not as if they can grab the first tea dress they find and throw that on like the girls do, ahem, and then put the effort into hair and make-up – but it turns out that eBay and military surplus websites do a cracking trade in authentic or completely passable uniforms with prices starting around the imminently reasonable £20 mark.

The crowd is mainly 20- and 30-somethings, and therefore decidedly short on actual dancers (people busting sway-step-sway, step-sway-step moves don’t count here) apart from the odd couple making valiant efforts in the thick of the crowds.  I grabbed a flyer for lessons because I really really do want to learn, but it didn’t make it home with us. We found some new friends though, and they’re already researching swing dance holidays for next year, telling us that there will be cute boys there for us (and them) to dance with.  We may well join them. Abi, are you coming? 

How to tell your mother you got a new tattoo

Cooking up schemes

I still can't quite believe that it's now only one more week at work. One more week before I jettison myself into the world of freelancing. Other people call it unemployment. However there are many things that will be keeping me busy. 

Not just eating. I love to cook - and this is something I've really rediscovered lately - and as soon as Amazon's bloody useless courier service surrenders my two new cook books to me, I will be experimenting more with Italian and French cuisine.  Above: soda bread (as my friend Robyn calls it, 'ethnic food')  and its twin is Vanilla Honey Pound Cake from Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa. 

My latest favourite i.e. craved food is Nigella's Moonblush tomatoes, seen here with Parma ham and fresh basil (can't believe I've kept something green alive - on purpose, as opposed to something green I've cultured by accident, in a penicillin-type way) on a wholemeal muffin. She's right - they are fabulous as a pasta sauce, particularly with some chilli flakes and bacon thrown in.  Still don't like raw tomatoes though.

Finally something I've been craving for a long time - again from Nigella's Feast, her Red Prawn and Mango Curry which is utterly delish.  One of the problems about cooking for one is that you end up eating the same thing for more than one meal - invariably having to downsize recipes and when it gets to that splitting one egg thing, it makes you a bit crazy and cranky so you make enough for two and eat it again the following day. In the case of this recipe, one of the great things about cooking for one is that you end up eating the same thing for more that one meal. Flib doesn't share food, it seems.

It also remind me chilli = flavour :: flavour = satiety far earlier than with bland food. This is important in the wake of a big diet and rediscovering fabulous food. 

Went to see Julie & Julia tonight, along with a friend who desperately wants a relationship, marriage and children and to be a full-time painter, who just split up with a man who is desperately in love with her, and desperately wants to marry her, have children with her and can afford to provide very well for her and family and was encouraging to leave her corporate life. But - and oh this is really the biggest but there can possibly be - she doesn't love him.  Despite having tried hard to convince herself, she knows that she never will. It doesn't matter a damn if all your boxes are ticked off if you're ever going to wake up one morning and think "Well it's fine. Just fine. I can make the best of it". Even worse if this becomes clear to you, vividly, during what is supposed to be the honeymoon period of the relationship.  So, I took her to see a movie which is essentially about two very happy couples and pursuing your dreams. Go me! Luckily it did cheer her up rather than send her off the deep end. Ah, I think. Might just text her now...

I love feel-good movies. Mainly because, you know, they make me feel good. That there's a world of possibilities out there, that you can find your niche, that everything can work out well for everyone. I have my rose coloured glasses on, but I rarely take them off.  I admire the fact that both Julie and Julia as portrayed in the movie took risks and found their true north. Would that we all good do that. It did raise interesting questions in my mind about 'Why blog? Is this incredibly narcissistic? Does anyone care - or do I have to care about it very much in order for it to resonate with people? " and then I put all those things aside and started mentally composing this post.

This isn't going to turn into a cookery blog. Primarily because I'm not willing to work on my presentation skills enough. Oh by the way, Mum, I'm not going to just be cooking. Don't worry. There'll be some knitting too. 

It's about time

That I came back. I'm sorry, I have actually been off having adventures but I either don't bring a camera, so feel like it will bore you all to tears without photos or you know, it was just so long *and* without a photo that I just didn't bother. Bad blogger, I know.  And I missed this.

How have you been doing? Please, drop a comment and say hello and remind me to pop by your blog etc.

Things I forgot to take photos of include the I Knit Day. Hell, I even forgot to bring a camera. But I met Diane who works with my auntie in Dublin, who's lovely, as well as the usual suspects - it was so lovely to see everyone, even briefly. Pauline had brought me to her gym that morning which is superswanky and lovely. I decided to join. Because shortly I may have loads of spare time. I have eight more (work) days to go at my current job. Then I go freelance. I may have already mentioned this here, or alluded to it, but I'm going freelance as a writer, editor, proofreader. I miss the world of words and books terribly - I want to return to my own writing, as well as helping others and getting deeply involved back in that atmosphere.

Nearly finished the Artist's Way. It's been a revelation, that's all I'll say as you'll either agree or think I'm crazy and either way that's fine. Its culmination will come around the time of me leaving the job, and attending a wedding I've been looking forward to for a very long time. It's going to be an enormous celebration!

Since I last talked to you:

I've been getting back to proper food - sometimes that's as simple as buying super sweet strawberries for my breakfast. Seen underneath: one of the napkins from the overlocker course at Make Lounge. Not scared of it any more.

 

Saw this amazing documentary at the V&A. You should really go to see it if you have the opportunity. It made me horribly jealous of all the space that US crafters seem to have - and this coming from the woman with a whole spare room for her endeavours.

Loved these cats. Emma though they were spooky in the extreme. I wanted to steal. Had to sit on my hands.

 

Oh yeah. I took a trip. A reclaim the city trip.  Just loved it.  Found myself in places that were familar after an absence of probably seven years.

 

Did keep seeing things that reminded me of other people:

Ok so it's true, lots of things were closed because I went in August. Next trip will be in November, I think. This poster made me laugh.

There is some knitting on the go - this is a super ginormo cake of Wollmeise. It's for Muir. I am struggling. It's a project that has a sentimental dimension, from this most unsentimental girl. It if all works out, I'll tell you all about it.