John Steinbeck, East of Eden, Chapter 13

"Sometimes a kind of glory lights up the mind of a man.

It happens to nearly everyone. You can feel it growing or preparing like a fuse burning toward dynamite. It is a feeling in the stomach, a delight of the nerves, of the forearms. The skin tastes the air, and every deep-drawn breath is sweet. Its beginning has the pleasure of a great stretching yawn; it flashes in the brain and the whole world glows outside your eyes. A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, even the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then -the glory- so that a cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet he is not diminished. And I guess a man's importance in the world can be measured by the quality and number of his glories. It is a lonely thing but it relates us to the world. It is the mother of all creativeness, and it sets each man separate from all other men.

I don't know how it will be in the years to come. There are monstrous changes taking place in the world, forces shaping a future whose face we do not know. Some of these forces seem evil to us, perhaps not in themselves but because their tendency is to eliminate other things we hold good. It is true that two men can lift a bigger stone than one man. A group can build automobiles quicker and better than one man, and bread from a huge factory is cheaper and more uniform. When our food and clothing and housing all are born in the complication of mass production, mass method is bound to get into our thinking and to eliminate all other thinking. In our time mass or collective production has entered our economics, our politics, and even our religion, so that some nations have substituted the idea collective for the idea God. This in my time is the danger. There is great tension in the world, tension toward a breaking point, and men are unhappy and confused.

At such a time it seems natural and good to me to ask myself these questions. What do I believe in? What must I fight for and what must I fight against?

Our species is the only creative species, and it has only one creative instrument, the individual mind and spirit of man. Nothing was ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.

And now the forces marshaled around the concept of the group have declared a war of extermination on that preciousness, the mind of man. By disparagement, by starvation, by repressions, forced direction, and the stunning hammerblows of conditioning, the free, roving mind is being pursued, roped, blunted, drugged. It is a sad suicidal course our species seems to have taken.

And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. This is what I am and what I am about. I can understand why a system built on a pattern must try to destroy the free mind, for this is one thing which can by inspection destroy such a system. Surely I can understand this, and I hate it and I will fight against it to preserve the one thing that separates us from the uncreative beasts. If the glory can be killed, we are lost."

Irina Werning again!

This photo here is of a cook at a remote school in the Andes. I really love the angle she's used and how worn it all looks. You may remember Irina Werning, she did this project. I'm very keen on her photography; check it out!

http://irinawerning.com/

Reynold Reynolds - Secret Life

This is pretty awesome, great animation and really interesting.

Secret Life from ⓇⓇ Artstudio Reynolds on Vimeo.

It reminds me slightly of Jan Svankmajer - especially Flora and Food, lots of the same kind of themes. It seems to me as if the film is about synthesis between the human world and the plant world, but to what end I'm not entirely sure! Discussion welcome.

The liner notes for Michigan - possibly the greatest prose I've ever seen. Honestly, just read it.

"Oh Detroit, what have you done to man, his wife and kids, his cousins, his music, his hairstyles, his shoes with white tips, his pleated pants, his elbow slung out the car window, his basketball courts, his officers downtown, his nightclubs, his shirtsleeve tucked over a pack of cigarettes, his imagination, his industry, his sense of humor, his home? Oh Detroit, what have you done to city hall, the public trains, the workers’ union, the Eastern Market, Boblo Island, the Ambassador Bridge? Where have you put your riches, where have you hid your treasure? Your concrete overpasses, your avenues as wide as rivers, your suburbs bloated with brick homes and strip malls and discount liquor stores and resale shops. When you are dead and gone, who will care for your children’s children? They have run wild with the bastard boys around the streets, reckless car rides downtown, rigorous dancing, drug taking, knife-stabbing, pillow-stuffing, tail-wagging restlessness. They have been drunk with this for years. They have been out of their minds. They have been left with nothing.

Even still, here and now, there is a renaissance of hope. The streets will take up horns and play free jazz, the buses will clang their bells in time, the buildings once burned out will be home to the homeless. Living rooms will be filled with furniture. Broken families will reconcile. Women will be honored with lilac wreaths. Men will begin to lower their voices. Children will fill playgrounds and parks with the sounds of their playing.

Who can call us father, or who can call us son? If we have regarded ourselves abandoned by whatever thing (a person, a lover, a parent, a false prophet, ourselves) then we have lost touch with the great family, ourselves, all of us together, in this great place called Michigan. Who is your neighbor? He is your brother. Who is that stranger? She is your mother. The man downstairs hammering on the wall, the woman blow-drying her hair in the bathroom – these people are your family. Have you lost your mother to death? Have you lost your father to disease, to war, alcohol, drugs, a car accident? Nothing can replace them. They have been made known completely in death, to whatever supernatural landscape (who can say for sure?). Until then, it is our hard task to welcome the widows, the children, the orphans, the fatherless into our family. What little effort it takes – a friendly nod at the stranger on the street, giving change to the man who asks, saying hello or goodbye, opening doors, keeping our mouths shut. In the small things, the day-to-day gestures, the normal business of the day, we do the great work of the kingdom, which is to welcome each unlikely individual into the fold, one person at a time.

We do these things, not because we are Michiganders, but because we have been called to participate in the world’s creation from the very beginning. Making music. Baking cakes. Sewing curtains. These things mean something greater: that we have been known from the very start. Our eye color, our hairline, our jawline, the shape of our big toe, the tone of our voice. These things have been designed from the very beginning. What kind of music we listen to. The sort of skirt that looks good. The baseball cap, the tennis shoe, the orange bandana. We have been made to find these things for ourselves and take them in as ours, like adopted children: habits, hobbies, idiosyncrasies, gestures, moods, tastes, tendencies, worries. They have been put in us for good measure.

Perhaps we don’t like what we see: our hips, our loss of hair, our shoe size, our dimples, our knuckles too big, our eating habits, our disposition. We have disclosed these things in secret, likes and dislikes, behind doors with locks, our lonely rooms, our messy desks, our empty hearts, our sudden bursts of energy, our sudden bouts of depression. Don’t worry. Put away your mirrors and your beauty magazines and your books on tape. There is someone right here who knows you more than you do, who is making room on the couch, who is fixing a meal, who is putting on your favorite record, who is listening intently to what you have to say, who is standing there with you, face to face, hand to hand, eye to eye, mouth to mouth. There is no space left uncovered. This is where you belong.”



PS. I actually copied this from the vinyl; thats dedication for you. sorry for any spelling errors.

Ducklike creatures - some of my own photography.

These photos were taken over a year and a half ago, which is pretty revealing as to how long it takes me to put things up. Hope somebody might enjoy these.












More here

Ovid - translated from Latin Dactylic Hexameter and then reimagined into English Dactylic Hexameter

As a pre-emptive defence for this - Dactylic Hexameter in English is nigh on impossible and unwieldy.

Athens has been threatened - Tereus saves it from barbarians and marries the king's daughter. But the gods have cursed it.

Thracian Tereus routed, with men procured from elsewhere, those
foreigners, gaining a name so distinguished in the conqering air,
Tereus, born of the line of our Ares, because of forceful,
powerful action, from Pandion, foolish Athenian, received as
wife Procne. Hera, nor even Hymen would act as her bridesmaid,
those blessed Graces stayed away: Furies held snatched torches from
funerary marches; Furies prepared the bed marked out for lovers,
over the roofs of their marriage chambers, a hideous screech owl
perched, oppressing. With this bird omen, Tereus was forged together
with her, Procne, with this bird omen they were made parents of Itys.




Meter wise:

Thracian/ Tereus/ routed,/ with men pro/cured from else/where, those
-^^ -^^ -- -^^ -^^ --
foreigners,/ gaining a /name so dis/tinguish’d /in the conq’/ring air,
-^^ -^^ -^^ -- -^^ --
Tereus/, born of the/ line of our/ Ares/, because of/ forceful,
-^^ -^^ -^^ -- -^^ --
powerful/ action, from/ Pandion/, foolish A/thenian, re/ceiv’d as
- ^^ -^^ -^^ -^^ -^^ --
wife Procne./ Hera, nor /even/ Hymen would /act as her/ bridesmaid,
- ^^ -^^ -- -^^ -^^ --
those blessed /Graces stayed/ away:/ Furies held/ snatched tor/ches from
-^^ -^^ -- -^^ -^^ --
funerar/y marches; /Furies pre/pared the bed/ marked out for/ lovers,
-^^ -^^ -^^ -^^ -^^ --
over the/ roofs of their/ marriage /chambers, a /hideous /screech owl
-^^ -^^ -- -^^ -^^ --
perch’d, oppress/ing. With this/ bird omen,/ Tereus /was forg’d to/gether
- ^^ - ^^ -- -^^ -^^ --
with her, Proc/ne, with this/ bird omen /they were made/ parents of/ Itys.
-^^ - ^^ -- -^^ -^^ --


Could anyone who does english or classics tell me if there are any flaws in this?

Simonetta Vespucci

Simonetta Cattaneo de Vespucci, wife of Mario Vespucci(who was the cousin of Amerigo Vespucci the explorer), lover of Giuliano de Medici, and Muse not only of Sandro Botticelli, but also of Piero de Cosimo.


Portrait of Simonetta Vespucci - Piero de Cosimo

So beloved was she of pretty much every man in Florence, where she moved in 1470 after her marriage aged 15 to the aforementioned Marco, that supposedly no less than 50 men would crowd outside her window every morning in the hope of catching a glimpse of her.


Scene from the life of Moses (Sistine Chapel Fresco)- Sandro Botticelli

Such was her appeal that Guiliano de Medici, of the famously powerful mercantile family of Florence, jousted for her under a banner, painted by Botticelli, which portrayed her as Athena, with the words "She without parallel" embroidered beneath it.


Portrait of Simonetta Vespucci - Sandro Botticelli

She died aged only 22 from tuberculosis, but works of art continued to use her as their muse for the following 50 years as her memory lived on in the artists of the day. Botticelli, it is hypothesised, was deeply in love with her, as many of his paintings contain features similar to hers, and he requested to be buried at her feet in the church of the Ognissanti in Florence.


Portrait of A Young Woman - Sandro Botticelli


The Death of Procris - Piero de Cosimo

And finally, the question that has teased many art historians, is this based on her?

Age of Empires II : The pinnacle of PC gaming?

The unrestrained joy of seeing frankish knights and crossbowmen hurled to the ground by volleys of arrows is one which must affect all of humanity - at least i imagine, given my limited understanding of the world - yet few would admit to enjoying that to the level that i would. Perhaps some latent anger towards humanity or aesthetic attraction towards mass violence is hidden deep within my psyche. ( I feel this is cue for my joke: "I wanted to study Psychology at University, but i was a-freud!" Ba-doom-tish...and then when they think its over... "I tried to switch to philosophy but the administrator said 'I Kant!'")

It goes without saying that war, violence and mutilation are terrifically sad and tragic when they occur in reality, but there's clearly something appealing about it which leads to such high sales and popularity of games, film and literature on the subject. I am more guilty than most - I had a major breakdown at the end of last summer when i looked too long into a horse's face; became very upset at the plight of all the millions of beautiful and noble horses that had been slain in warfare in the past milennia, andthen went inside and probably, although i cant remember, played Age of Empires II to cheer myself up, contentedly slaughtering turkish cavalry.

Anyway, i love warfare; especially medieval warfare, and now i've got my excuses out of the way so nobody thinks i'm about to set up a band of mercenaries and take over Reading's town hall (double bluff?), i can get to my point.


The most playable strategy game of all time is 1999/2000 released Age of Empires II - Age of Kings/The Conquerors. Not its predecessor, Age of Empires, because everything feels like its moving ridiculously slowly, the priests make a sound so annoying you want to lead your empire towards aetheism, and elephants are just stupidly common (more elephants than people?). Equally, not its successor, Age of Empires three, because it forces you to actually give a fuck about america, and it complicates everything slightly too much, as if its trying to be Cossacks with an actual game engine as opposed to Russian mice prodding at things inside your PC.



No, he says, after a lengthy diversion that will be of no interest to someone who doesn't share my unhealthy obsessions, Age of Empires II is the one. To start with, I learnt most of my early history from the campaigns in this - so it provided me with a background knowledge of the hundred years war, the crusades, the formation of the Germanic Holy Roman Empire, The mongols, the huns, the aztecs... the list goes on. No need to bemoan the fact that they just MAKE STUFF UP like Valencia being rescued from the turks on El Cid's deathbed, or Harald Haadraada joining forces with William at the battle of Hastings in order to suit gameplay, that's just a minor niggle. I've been deeply, intermittently in love with this game for the last twelve years of my life, and it has been bought back into my life as stress relief for actually being an adult, which conversely has made me more of a child.



What makes this game so brilliant is absolute simplicity of commands. Even an idiot could work it; you left click to select someone, right click where you want them to go. The buttons are big, friendly,and all on screen; you dont have to remember any keys, and people generally do the right thing if you just leave them to it anyway. None of those "All of my men are trapped in an annoying bit of scenery in my assault on Jerusalem because of bad hexagons" bullshit you have to put up with when playing other games like the first AOE, Cossacks, or even the amazing Populous:the Beginning. There's plenty of opportunity to construct your empire just how you want it and at your own pace; you can fire up loads of troops and invade asia like some crazed napoleon, or you can cover your entire land in castles and then just leave it playing while you watch like a sadistic dictator while your enemies run out of resources, practically starve to death, and try to hack down your castles with their bare hands.



This isn't to say there aren't faults with it: you can generally only have 75 troops alive at any given time, which makes it hard to bring overwhelming force to bear on anyone; and the missions in the campaigns get a bit samey when you realise you have to BUILD A TOWN AND THEN KILL THEIR TOWN after some initial gimick like "Gather support among the population". (This results in you riding around rather nervously, trying to find people who like you, and its all very exciting, and then you find some people but .... THEY WANT YOU TO BUILD THEIR TOWN. And then you think, didn't i just do this in the last mission?)


However, it is a game that's endlessly adaptable. The different cultures are radically different each with their own subtly varied set of technologies and units, and i personally get a kick out of thinking of myself as a spaniard while playing as the Spanish etc., resulting in me shouting "Cono" and "Hijo de Puta" at aztec armies.
So in essence, this game is perfect for anyone whose own existance feels so minor and insignificant they harbour secret dreams of making the world pay by building castles all over it. It may not have the graphical and gameplay sophistication of Medieval: Total War and its ilk, and as a result, is slightly less exciting, but its just so well made that any scenario in it can occur, and on harder levels it really is a fight for survival. It's just tense, a lot of the time. Maybe i care too much about it. But then if i don't care about the death of frankish knights, what can i care about?

(Rhetorical question)

William-Adolphe Bouguereau - Selected paintings

Okay - so hands up here - I know this man's paintings are a bit naff and loads of them are stupidly romantic and fluffy and glossy and so on, but some of William Adolphe Bouguereau's paintings are just wonderful. So, having established i have a soft spot for them when they're probably not particularly high on "high-art" merit, let me talk you through some lovely ones. He lived approximately (and by approximately i mean without consulting wikipedia) from 1830- 1910 or something like that, and he was a huge perfectionist, specialising in painting people's faces, hands, and flesh in a hyper realistic way. And while he was often criticised for pretty much exclusively painting rustic country folk/ imagined greek nymphs, he was probably the closest that painting ever got to realistic humanity in expressions, and in physical attributes. Degas hated him, Matisse studied under him (and then later hated him) and he changed the rules of the academie francaise so his wife could get in. So all in all, a serious man...



The fifth circle of Hell ; Dante's Inferno

And I, my gaze transfixed, could see
people with angry faces in that bog,
naked, their bodies smeared with mud.

They struck each other with their hands,
their heads, their chests and feet,
and tore each other with their teeth.

Check out how resolute Virgil appears (identified by the laurel wreath), with Dante looking positively sick next to him. The flesh under the left wrestling man's fingertips is gruesomely realistic as well. If you look closely, there's also a woman accosting a man in the background. OOHH also check out the agony on the man's face on the right hand side. ( I may enjoy this painting too much)




I cant get over how realistic these two kids are. Amusingly however, this painting is called the Nut Gatherers, and unless i'm insane, aren't they holding grapes?




So this is probably what gets Bouguereau a bad press - classically influenced eroticism like this. But... well i love it. Look at the expression of the girl whose face is in focus, and the indentations on the arm of the satyr as the girl in the foreground tugs at him. And that cheeky one at the back calling over her friends to join in the fun. One could well ask what fun. tugging at a mutant? Is that fun?



She's looking after sheep; but it clearly can't be very strenous, because she looks super relaxed. Maybe I should look after sheep. Her face has got so many emotions in, but they're all vaguely calming and lovely.




This one here is Bouguereau going a bit mad. She's flying! She's wrapped in some sort of mist! It's called "Evening mood"! I haven't got a clue what its about.




In my estimation, the best has been saved til last. Adam and Eve mourn the death of their son, Abel. I have always loved the story of Cain and Abel, its really affecting, interesting and has lots of non Christian parallels. But this portrayal of the first exemplar of human grief, and the piteous way in which the bodies of the living hang in the same way as the bodies of the dead, is really wonderful.
The colours are fantastic as well - oh and look at Abel's hands. If this man was still alive, i'd try and get him to teach me to do hands.

Collision Zone - Nadine Hilbert & Gast Bouschet

These photos are actually part of a cinema exhibition at the 53rd Venice Biennale
Luxembourg Pavilion which took place in 2009. As far as i'm concerned, they're pictures about the peculiar kind of urbanism you get in hot, latin countries, whose traditional cultures are so unsuited to the model of capitalist urbanism that it provokes a kind of deep crisis - which is of course very artistically interesting. For more stuff in this vein, see the film Gomorra (2008) by Matteo Garrone, or of course, the classic Cidade de Deus (2002) by Fernando Meirelles.
The overbearing blue filters make it seem hugely oppressive, even in the bright daylight, and the compartmentalised presentation is pretty eye-catching as well. I love the graffiti at the bottom of the second picture, that bright white through the blue filter. Looks pretty sharp. Full credit to Nadine Hilbert & Gast Bouschet @ http://www.bouschet-hilbert.org/





All scenes were shot near the Strait of Gibraltar and on the shores of Sicily at nighttime, references to the animal world. Images of garbage cans and crumbling buildings are cut in with shots of satellites, boats, surveillance and geological imagery of mountains, caves dripping water and insects caught in a web.

Collision Zone, the title of our work is a term used in plate tectonics. It designates a zone where continental plates clash. Tectonics tell us that continents move and the African continent is actually moving towards the European continent. These are very slow processes and Africa moves towards Europe at the speed of 4 or 5 centimeters per year. That is the same speed as our fingernails are growing. So, one day the Mediterranean Sea will be closed and the natural border between Africa and Europe will have disappeared.

Genevieve Chua - Forest and Foxes

This photographer has taken the idea of adolescent girls as foxes and created a photoshoot which makes everything in it seem kind of naturally nocturnal and whispered, almost. Lovely stuff.






More about her here: http://www.genchua.com/

Irina Werning - Back to the Future project

These photos are incredibly inspirational; Irina Werning has tried to replicate old pictures of people as children or young adults with their older selves in the same surroundings and in the same style. The result of this is not only really beautiful, but also strangely nostalgic by association, even though you don't know these people. Fascinating!



Oscar 1978 & 2010, Buenos Aires


FLOR IN 1975 & 2010, Buenos Aires


LUCIA IN 1956 & 2010, Buenos Aires


FLOR, MALE, SIL IN 1983 & 2010


MECHI IN 1990 & 2010, Buenos Aires


PANCHO IN 1983 & 2010, Buenos Aires

Massive credit to http://irinawerning.com/bio/bio/irinawerning.com

Pleasing Parsley Soup - Salubriously seasoned with naughty nutmeg.

This was a rather nice, yet humble dinner which Kylie and I ate last night. It's the perfect soup for lunchtimes as well, very fresh and would most likely keep quite pleasantly, and could be "souped up" for any occasion with the addition of some fried chorizo or toasted croutons with creamy melted emmental or some similar cheese.




Ingredients, to serve two people:
2 medium leeks, washed and top-and tailed, finely sliced
200 g of peeled potatoes, which is about two medium ones
500 ml vegetable stock
40 g butter
120 g fresh parsley. This is quite a lot, but you'll use the stalks as well, so do not despair, two of the "supermarket" potted ones or a few supermarket sized bags should do you.
70 ml of crème fraîche
1/3 of a nutmeg, grated. Its probably easier to use ready grated nutmeg, about a level teaspoon, unless you like grating such small things and it makes you feel like a giant grating a coconut.

Method: Separate the stalks of your parsley from the leaves. There's no need to be too particular about this, its all going to end up in the same thing, just be rough and ready. Chop half the leaves together with all the stalks. Meanwhile, cook your leeks in the butter in your pan, until they're nicely soft and fragrant, approximately 5 minutes. Then put in your potatoes, having diced them roughly beforehand and your chopped parsley.
Reserve your unchopped leaves for later. Boil, then simmer for about 15 minutes, then whack in your leaves, simmer for a couple more minutes, then take it off the heat. Wait for it to cool down a bit (or you will break your blender like i did by cracking it) and then blend it thoroughly.

Reheat the soup, stirring in 50 ml of the crème fraîche and the nutmeg. Serve in warm bowls and stir in a tiny bit more crème fraîche in a little swirl so it looks pretty.

This is quite creamy and quite nutmeg-gy, so if you're not so keen on those flavours, possibly halve the above quantities.

Lapides Igniferi, Unicorns!

Bestiaries are quickly becoming something of a fascination for me. Put briefly, they are compendia of medieval knowledge on what they considered to be the natural world. In practise however, they mix everyday animals and related facts with stuff that is clearly mythological or just plain weird. For example, they believed that certain types of geese grew on trees next to rivers, hanging upside down on trees like bats, and then fell into water when they were mature. Those that landed on land died and were thus safe to eat. Similarly, they believed whales would float silently on top of the water waiting for a boat to pass. When one did, they would pretend to be an island, and the sailors would land on its back. After they had lit a fire, the whale would throw them off and eat them all. But they didn't really need to do this, because another part of the story is that whales have very pleasant breath which attracts small fish.(Which must be based on those ones that trawl up plankton like there's no tomorrow) In order to confuse the issue completely, every description of an animal has its own religious gloss, explaining the implications of its behaviour on Christianity and the lessons we must learn from it.

How much people actually believed this stuff its difficult to know, but its still a heady mix of practical and religious normality, and batshit insane stuff about lynx's urine turning into precious stones. (probably amber)

Anywhere, here are a few of my favourites, the pictures, but not always the text being from the bestiary i went to see in the Bodleian last year.


Fire stones:

"On a certain mountain in the east, there are fire-bearing stones which are called in Greek terrobolem; they are male and female. When they are far from each other, the fire within them does not ignite. But when by chance the female draws near to the male, the fire is at once kindled, with the result that everything around the mountain burns. For this reason, men of God, you who follow this way of life, stay well clear of women, lest when you and they approach each other, the twin flame be kindled in you both and consume the good that Christ has bestowed upon you. For there are angels of Satan, always on the offensive against the righteous; not only holy men but chaste women too."

click for clearer version

Unicorn:

Isidore of Seville - 7th century in his "Etymologies" : The Greek word rhinoceros, meaning "with horn in nose," refers to the same beast as the names monoceros or unicorn. This is a four-footed beast that has a single horn on its forehead; it is very strong and pierces anything it attacks. It fights with elephants and kills them by wounding them in the belly. The unicorn is too strong to be caught by hunters, except by a trick: if a virgin girl is placed in front of a unicorn and she bares her breast to it, all of its fierceness will cease and it will lay its head on her bosom, and thus quieted is easily caught.


click for clearer version

Homemade Gravadlax, Dill and Mustard Mayonnaise, Spelt Soda Bread and Butter- in which i appear preach-ey about food provenance multiple times.

This was my cooking project last week, to stop me from going insane at the hands of history. This works as a lovely starter and very impressive too, since all the elements can easily be made at home with basic ingredients. Cured or Smoked salmon is often viewed nowadays as a luxury, but in reality Gravadlax is a kind of cured salmon which has its origins in poor Scandinavian fishing heritage. In order to preserve fish in general while the fishermen went out in their boats for a second attempt, they were covered in the sand on the beach, and then dug up a few days later, when the salt had cured them. Now the recipe is slightly more complex, but not significantly.


Mine turned out slightly more sweet than salty, but not overpoweringly so, and the flavour of the dill was perfectly noticeable. The mayonnaise here goes really well with the salmon, and soda bread has a kind of earthy, moral glow about it that just makes you feel super-good.



So here are the recipes. Quantities are enough for A) about 8 people for a starter,B) 3-4 for a main if you felt so inclined but that would be odd, C) 1 person over about a week who really likes salmon, or alternatively,D) a hungry bunch of historians for two hours.

Homemade Gravadlax:
Ingredients:

Salmon, filleted and pinboned - 350 g - the meat from about mid way down the fish is best,where it starts to narrow due to the tail, but you could easily use the very tail segment, being aware that the thinner parts would cure more quickly and thus become perhaps overly flavoured. On this note, a quick word about salmon generally. Wild salmon from this country is very hard to come by, and very expensive when you do find it, and most of the wild salmon you would find is imported from Alaska. The better farmed salmon from Scotland is produced to a very high standard, is generally delicious, and supports the British economy. So buy that instead of wasting your money on plane/boat tickets for wild Alaskan salmon.

1 heaped tablespoon of sea salt (preferably Maldon)
1 heaped tablespoon of sugar
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons of fresh Dill, finely chopped ( boycott Israel obviously)

Method: Make extra sure there are no bones sticking out of your fillet of salmon. Then, mix up all of your other ingredients in a bowl, thoroughly, breaking up your sea salt between your fingers if it's in flakes. Place the fish on some clingfilm, skin side down, and scatter your mixture all over the flesh of the fish until its completely covered. Then clingfilm your fish up quite tightly, and then put it in your fridge, probably in some sort of box in case your curing mixture leaks out of the clingfilm. Leave in the fridge for 24-48 hours, it helps to put something relatively heavy on top of it for a couple of hours during this period just to squeeze some of the moisture out.

After a period you're happy with, (i left it for about 30 hours) unwrap the fish and wash off all the excess cure under the tap. Slice it as thinly as you can. If you are as awkward as me, this is the most difficult bit. I found it easiest to remove the skin and then slice it like i would a cucumber, but I'm sure there is a more elegant way. Garnish with fresh dill and the accompaniments below.

Homemade Mustard and Dill Mayonnaise

Ingredients:
1 egg yolk
2 tablespoons Dijon Mustard (why anyone would buy English made Dijon Mustard, which even Waitrose sell, is beyond me. I was shocked. Buy some from Dijon for chrissakes!)
1 tablespoon caster sugar
150 ml vegetable oil, or any other oil. Hemp oil is brilliant, like a kind of English olive oil, but it may be a bit strong for this recipe. Use it for everything else though.
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon of freshly and finely chopped dill
saltnpepa to taste.

Method: Whisk the egg yolk with the mustard and the sugar until well incorporated. Then add the oil, drop by bloody drop if you are cautious, and when your patience is exhausted, splash by splash, and then you will almost definitely get bored and your splashes will become more and more liberal. Don't add too much at once though, otherwise the whole thing will become oily and separated and you have to start again. It should incorporate nicely and get slowly thicker. After it's all in, you should have mayo consistency. Then just add white wine vinegar, seasoning and chopped dill. Taste it and adjust however you want!


Homemade Butter

Ingredients:
500 ml double cream - this will generally produce a decent amount of butter, approx 250 g, more than enough to go with this dish. It will keep for a while, as long as you get all the buttermilk out.
sea salt to taste

Equipment:
Muslim (sic)

Method: It really is pretty easy. Overwhip your cream in a bowl which is large enough for your cream to be held in comfortably since it will expand when whipped, past every stage where it would normally be delicious (yes it hurts), until it looks like scrambled eggs and there is a milky white liquid forming at the bottom of your bowl. At this stage stop, and strain the whole mixture through a double or triple folded sheet of muslin, resting in a sieve. SAVE THE MILKY LIQUID THAT COMES OUT OF THE WHIPPED CREAM - it is buttermilk and you will need it to make the sodabread. fold up the muslin around your butter and squeeze it, basically wringing out your precious buttermilk. When no more buttermilk appears to be coming out, and the "butter" appears to be being squeezed out through the muslin, stop and return to another bowl. Or even better, use the same bowl you did previously and just wash it up while it's straining, you lazy bastards. Then whip the butter again, to force out any more buttermilk, for about a minute. Repeat the whole process with new muslin. When the butter is completely void of the liquid, and feels like butter, return to the bowl and mix thoroughly with the amount of salt you prefer in your butter. Then, try and force the butter into some sort of shape, which is where butter pats would be handy, but you can just use your hands or force it into a butter dish like an angry father pushing his child into the bath. Scream "get in you little sod" for greater effect.
Et Voila, homemade butter.

Wholemeal Spelt Soda Bread:

I know this sounds healthy and boring, but its very flavoursome.

Ingredients:

120 g Spelt Flour
80 g Strong White Bread Flour
40 g Plain flour
1 teaspoon sea salt, crushed
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1 whole egg, whisked.
1 tablespoon oil, use what you like, but sunflower is fine.
1 teaspoon of clear honey
210 ml of buttermilk (if you didn't get this from making the butter, you can either change the other quantities in this recipe, or top it up with a sneaky bit of milk and pretend you did - that's what i did)

Method: Preheat your oven to 200 C, same old story etc. Mix all of the dry ingredients in a bowl, mix all the wet ingredients (egg, honey, buttermilk and oil) thoroughly in a separate bowl. Pour them together, and mix until they are incorporated, then stop and don't overwork it. It shouldn't look like a bread dough, more like a firmish cake mix. Pour it into a well oiled loaf tin and put it in the oven. Mine took about 25/30 minutes to cook, but keep an eye on it and it is ready when you tap on the bottom and it sounds like a bodhran. Keeping the Irish theme there. It will keep for 2-3 days nicely, but is best fresh obviously.