Pizza Brasileira via Ian Cann

During my wonderul years living with Ian Cann in Leeds, we took recreating some of our then favourite dishes very seriously - indeed our flagship was the DIY Rodeo Burger. Even though Ian is now living thousands of miles away in Brasil - I am glad to see that he is not letting his lack of correct ingredients or equipment put him off the quest to recreate his version of his favourite foods. Here is Pizza Brasileira - Ian Cann - 2010.

"i don't have an oven, so this is the solution...

ready made base (tortilla)

hot fry fry pan (no oil required)

hot toasted sandwich maker to provide some ceiling heat - just like traditional pizza oven.

toppings - tomato paste, mozzarella, capers, anchovies, basil dressing, black pep etc..."

"hot toasted sandwich maker to provide some ceiling heat - just like traditional pizza oven."

Pretty much my Ultimate Vibe

I want to give you something that I get a great joy out of - a song apparently written by Henry VIII who was deemed to be a great sportsman and musician (as if anyone would say otherwise). I believe that this would have been written by a court minstrel alongside the Sovereign, he would have claimed it for himself in its entirety. Either way, I hope you like the feel of it. It's called - "Pastime with Good Company" or "The King's Ballad" (The Kynges Balade) and it is about how to fill your life with joy and excitement, friends and love. He also believes that you must court an occasional risky pleasure, but the chief celebration is with good friends, joy and revelry - Idleness may well be the chief sin... This rambunctious Tudor monarch and I don't agree on many things, however I find on this point we agree wholeheartedly.

If you can ignore the fairly awful accent, I do beleive you to will gleam immense satisfaction from this - some lyrics follow the clip (youtube)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vottDdrRSVk

Pastime with good company,
I love, and shall until I die.
Grudge who will, but none deny,
So God be pleased, thus live will I.
For my pastance:
Hunt, sing, and dance,
My heart is set
All goodly sport,
For my comfort,
Who shall me let?

	Youth must have some dalliance,
	Of good or ill some pastance.
	Company methinks them best,
	All thoughts and fancies to digest.
	For idleness,
	Is chief mistress
	Of vices all:
	Then who can say,
	But mirth and play,
	Is best of all?

Oki round 2

I came across some new killer pieces from Oki Ni:

Fred Perry Raf Simmons Trouser Collabo:
Perfect for those cold, windy and wet walks into work...

Florian Rioe Necklace
note the text next to the picture

"Laid flat the look is like ripples on the ocean" - I don't think even when laid flat it looks anything like ocean ripples

"intertwined like a complicated sailor’s knot" If you showed that to a sailor or asked a gnarled seaman whether or not the knot was intertwined and complicated he would put it around your neck hang you from the yard arm.

Note - 'sold out'

Paper Cuts

Really Very Nice

GYMBOX

GYMBOX

I have always had a bad reaction to GYMBOX ever since I first came across it: an aggressive man jabbed a leaflet at me outside Holborn tube that told me where I would be able to partake in 'Chav Fighting'. It would appear the brains behind their engaging marketing/promotional campaigns have come with with the goods again. Here is a photo of what greeted me at Holborn this morning

Do I get to look like this if I work out at Gymbox? And will you spend more of my membership fees on exciting promo campaigns such as this? Sign me up.

I find the whole Gymbox philosophy galling at the very least. Why a giant figure that resemembles a post car-crash Martin Johnson supposed to be lure me in is beyond me.

On their site they have this info:

"With all of our branches designed by nightclub designers, we believe that going out and working out should be one and the same thing and that hot and sweaty exercise should be pure unadulterated entertainment."

They also have djs playing there on rotation. I can't imagine anything worse than a gym with attitude, a techno-gym with attitude - and lasers. They have a weekly rave class, with glowsticks. You can see a video clips here of 'The Rave' - it's pretty much my idea of hell. They also write 'Nightly Resident DJ's - all vices welcome' : sure, take some pills and some ketamine and hit the spin class.

It's not the case that working out can be fun if you pretend you are at a rave.- There is also a categorical fact that clubbing is by nature 'un-gym' - whilst both activities require high levels of exertion, one is a result of self-induced hyper-hedonism, the other the result of a self-imposed health hunt. It would not be ludicrous to claim that they are pretty much polar opposite on the activities spectrum.

I feel queasy when I imagine the sorts of horrids that would be up for GYMBOX and pay a premium for the priviledge. Have a look at this guy - Adam will be yours if you are lucky enough to select the Covent Garden branch:

He looks reeeeeeeeeaaaal healthy.

If you want to work-out, go to a real gym. If you want to rave, go to Berghain . it is my opinion these two pastimes should remain entirely separate.

Perry Bible Fellowship

This site houses some truly excellent comic strips - here are a couple I like:

Monkey Photogprapher
Atantis

Crate Digging

Excellent sketches by Stefan Glerum in a series about the perils of the everlasting hunting for that record

Commes des Garcons

At this fragrance site BaseNotes, I came across this review for a for a fragrance that had caught my nose first in Berlin - Comme des Garçons Avignon - a powerful scent that was supposed to envoke the vibes of a 15th Centrury cathedrale. This remarkable review deserves attention:

"Avignon: opening to mid notes, this has one of most INTENSE "Frankinsence" note. its as if i was put inside a chest filled with Frankinsence for over the last century or so, its very very very intense. it takes almost an hour for this rustic note ot wear off; then revealing the altar surroung it with massive ceilings and aged stone which has absorbed the soot from this incense for as long as mankind. the coldness of the stone is to be sniffed to be believed. by the time i reached the base i encountered the infamous "dust" notes giving the basenotes a very ambery, dry feel with hints of burnt woods. A priest would defintiely find this interesting. wearable? well, couple of wears will tell me if it i could wear to it work, i dont wanna end up conducting a Mass..
This one is potent, exciting and unlike any other scent i have sniffed before, however, the smell is not unfamiliar, every christian knows this smell. if one would like to know how this smells, please go to the nearest church."




This would be the perfect scent for me as it covers all the bases. Here's why:


"its as if i was put inside a chest filled with Frankinsence for over the last centrury or so"
I was very much hoping to smell like a 100 year old corpse - this is a good start.

-I was after something that was very very intense but I wonder if very very very intense might be overdoing it a touch.


"aged stone which has absorbed the soot from this incense for as long as mankind"
I just love the idea of wearing something that harks back to the beginning our human lives on this planet (even though humankind can be traced back circa 200,000 years and the fact that the oldest Church that has ever been discovered dates from the late third century in the {Jordanian port city of Aqaba} highlighting a 198,300 year discrepancy since the dawn of man and the soot absorbed stone of this church).


"the coldness of the stone is to be sniffed to be believed"
I too only believe that something is cold once I have smelt it - this fragrance is a perfect match for me.

Deal.

Women Holding Strange Creatures

Always enjoy these sketches by Quentin Blake:
Women Holding Strange Creatures

Shoreditche Twatte

A few years ago myself and a few others embarked on attempt at rewriting some Chaucer, this time set in more modern time, the bawdy Easte Londonne. I came across them the other day - thanks to Alex Sheridan and William D and Ben V for contributions...

The Shoreditche Tale

The Twatte's Prologue


In Olde Streete nat far fro Shoreditchey
Theyre goeth unt a layne of revelre

A twatte lived there many a daye
As any peykock he was a proude ande gaye

Dance he could, and drinke and pisse,
Act the foole and fighte and sniffe.

And aye his belt was bigge and bolde
And on his skulle a peaked cappe of golde

His croppe was skuplted as grease and dirt
Was dare no man to touch for fear of hurt

His toppe half was brighte and tight in the hose
Shapely was his face and camus was his nose

A music podd beare him in his pouche
On long journey's he woulde liken to touche

A taverne he a dwelle, one olde blue last...

Where frothedde ales were drainede faste

Until one fine daye his ful sorrow did showe

To thee, to me and others that knowe,

And so atope ye oldee Shoreditchey church spire

Our once feir proud twattee did solummley goe.

Theyre he stood and looketh up and doun,

Fyve teers did run doun his nowe crookyed nose and as he dropped his croyn

He spak 'Eek! Weylaway! Curss'd is that rite full daye

When i did to Shoreditchey astray,

To swyve yon wenches and sunff wikkid powdyre,

for now my pricketh be soore and my mynd dothe flownder!'

And so in right full blast as ever he mighte

He caste off his pod, his jackete and cappe into the nyte,

And he did followe that toppe half birghte

As he fil backward from that spyre wiv face held tight,

Until the grounde he met with speede aright and fulle,

Where a bloody streem did run from his brok'n skulle.

The twatte's Tale II

The were in Hoxtoun Foure Houses fulle
And Strangeres nere to tales of cack n bulle

Weere slender colerikes clerks did end their trenchers
and youngen did for starteres hunt for wenches

And nere games more happilie to meete
than those them all in greate Easterne Streete

Where ounce the home of dance and bounderie
was now of gentil clubbes and founderie

one day two personnes each of those fulle drunken
were leaving late all dryssed up like as punken

The first all heavy sanguine brode
the second spindlie like a rodde

Each a belly full of ginne
each in pantalonnes skinne

the first manne said he to his brouthere
"Move now fynde your path anothere"

But sure our tinie of his steade
The othere man he drouped his heade

"I walk heere, fellowe, every darke
and on to faire Hoxtoun parke"

Anouthere tyme these mighte have foughte
And many times you'll say they oughte

But at this moment broughte
Aloung the Clerk of Shoreditche's Doughte

At this the Tensioun faste Contracted
As each of these was quick distracted

The wyf most faire was walking slowe
(Her buttocks Brode as belles of Bowe)