Every year I enter the ballot to compete in the Ride London 100, a 100 mile closed road event starting from the Olympic Park and passing through the many Hills of Surrey finishing on the Mall. Every year I fail to get in... this year was no exception, but my chum Winston who rode for a charity team last year suggested that we should put a team in.
Despite this being my second Charity event this year, (I hate my sponsors to feel abused) I agreed, as did a few others...
We're riding as a team for the charity, United Response who are now looking for more team entrants so they asked me to do a Q&A about the TeamBreakfastBike entry in the hope of inspiring others.
They put this on their blog, I thought I'd share it with you...
Team Breakfast Bike tackle RideLondon
by Sarah Riddlestone
On 31st July, Steve, and 6 of his friends, will be cycling RideLondon on behalf of United Response in a bid to raise much needed funds. We spoke to Steve to see how they’re getting on…
So, what’s the meaning behind ‘Team Breakfast Bike’?
There’s around 20 of us, we meet each Saturday (usually at my place) for coffee, cake and general banter, then struggle out into the world for either a road ride, or a mountain bike ride. The ride depends on the weather and what people fancy, and an average ride will see between 4 and 10 folk turn up.
The breakfast bit of #TeamBreakfastBike is that although there’s often cake before the ride, (I like to bake), there’s usually a communal breakfast on our return, team-cooking of eggs, bacon, toast, sharing chat and eating before dispersing to do other Saturday stuff. Which is nice.
How do you know each other?
We’re a sociable group mostly local to Surrey but we also have joiners from as far afield as Germany, France, and even Singapore. It started off as an occasional mountain-bike ride followed by breakfast about 5 years ago. Some of us have known each other for 30 years, others have met one of us in a pub, on a ride or at the gym and said, "Do you fancy coming along", it usually works.
What are you doing to train?
Most of us do a ride or two a week. We have a cavalier approach to training, most of us are heading toward elderly and staving that off with visits to the gym, the doctor and our wine merchants. An average ride can be around 25k off-road or 60 to 90k, on a road ride, depending on the quality of the route-finding. A couple of us drove to Scotland to take part in the 132k Etape Caledonia, a drive of 1000 miles for an 81 mile bike ride! But it was a very nice ride.
Steve cycling one of his sportives
What made you want to cycle RideLondon for United Response?
Winston is a big fan of United Response and he suggested we put a team together. A few of us failed to get ballot places so it seemed like a good idea, it’s a worthy cause and we generally have nice lives, so it’s nice to give a little back.
Winston at RideLondon 2015
Do you have any special plans for fundraising?
Anna tends towards making cakes and encouraging people to pay generous amounts for them, it’s like a Mafioso Mary Berry, but most of us rely on the good natured generosity of clients, suppliers, business acquaintances, friends and family.
What are you looking forward to most about the race?
Pssst, it’s not a race!!! :) We’ve all done closed-road rides and that’s always fun, obviously the Surrey leg is an area we know and cycle a lot so we’ll be looking for lots of our supporters to be out there shouting for us. Personally I’ve always been jealous of my marathon-running wife who’s enjoyed a finish up the Mall, that will be a first for me and I’m really looking forward to it.
Labels: blogfromthebarn, Cake, charity, olympic park, Pru 100, Ride London, Surrey Hills, teambreakfastbike, United Response
Speed bonny ford, like a hire car in the wind, o'er the sea to Skye ....
A few months ago we were dining with some chums and it was unanimously agreed that we should get a small group of us together and spend a couple of days on the Isle of Skye, (for the benefit of the geographically challenged, (we do have some American readers) that's a big island on the West of Scotland.
We thought we might do a little cycling, definitely some fine dining, a little strolling on the strand, a few days of much needed chilling out. Inevitably the real world intervened and the list of enthusiasts in the small group dwindled to the extent that it gradually turned into a two night trip for just the missus and I.
We booked into the world renowned restaurant, the Three Chimneys, situated about a century north of anywhere and workplace of a storming chef, winner of three rosettes, a Michelin star, The Great British Menu and many more accolades, Michael Smith. His philosophy at the Three Chimneys is all about very fine dining using local fish, meat and veg and since it's bloody miles from anywhere I suspect that makes both financial sense and meets the current demand for proof of provenance, sustainability and responsible farming, fishing and foraging.
We flew to Inverness, for the first time since our wedding, rented a shiny new Ford Something and set off on the three-and-a-half-hour drive across the country to the magical West. I have to say that I'd forgotten it can sometimes be fun to drive a car but finding myself on roads delightfully free of the many variations of moron who clutter the highways of Surrey, on decent tarmac, across stunning and sparsely populated countryside I arrived at our accommodation with an unusually broad grin on my ugly mug.
The restaurant has half a dozen rooms in an adjacent building, open for a year or so and delightfully and thoughtfully appointed. It's definitely a well-done operation and the rooms bit deserves the five star label.
The staff were welcoming, surprisingly multinational, (where are the local kids?) thoughtful, professional and seemed to really enjoy their work, nice folk doing good stuff.
We had time to unpack, shower and enjoy a G&T before dinner, we were only there for two nights, the first in the restaurant, the second would be at the'Kitchen Table'.
The restaurant, bearing in mind its remoteness, was packed, we enjoyed a delightful three courses with a nice bottle of pink from an intimidating wine list then returned to the lounge in 'the House over by' (they're confused by grammar, the Scots).
Thanks to the ministrations of the hospitable Scot (that's both his name, and his nationality) I was, after 59 years on this planet finally introduced to a whisky that I actually enjoyed drinking, a delight enhanced on the following eve when I was instructed in the use of a pipette of water to free the aromatics.
Up the next morn to an excellent breakfast, cooked perfectly, served with warmth, enthusiasm, a great view of rain,wind, rain and more rain. I'll not mention the weather again because it remained pretty much liquid and grey through the visit. Strangely though, I think that works for this ragged, rugged, rural land.
We did some desultory sightseeing, empty roads, straggly villages, too many art galleries and craft shops selling pretty much every possible view of an otter.
The harbour in Portree was pretty and our visit there was (for me at least) much enhanced by a chance encounter with Alan, an eccentric and dysfunctional visitor from England with a mild personality disorder and extremely poor decision-making skills when it comes to selecting an opponent for a grumpiest old man contest.
We returned early to the hotel and enjoyed the rainswept views through the rainswept windows of the rainswept loch. We read our books, took tea and relaxed. Relaxing is not one of my strong suits but if you feel the need to relax, this is absolutely the right place to do it.
So, supper time. Off to the kitchen table, a six seater high table, massive wooden pieces of furniture in a well lit annexe to the restaurant kitchen. We, and two more couples of evidently keen foodie types were seated and her ladyship was delighted to see that the "most attractive chef" her words, not mine, (and she's going to have to explain that to Tom Kerridge next time she sees him) was on station.
I've been in a few high quality restaurant kitchens now, and the thing that impressed, as here, was the sense of ordered calm, no shouting, no panic, no drama, lots of activity, many smiles, much communication, a comfortable interaction between all the kitchen staff, extended to and including the waiters.
Gordon Ramsey is a great chef but the prolific TV coverage of his angry, sweary, shouty style has done the profession few favours.
We were invited to stroll around and chat with the cooks, really tough to do, it seems a little like wandering into an operating theatre and asking the surgeon "what does that bit do?" However once we'd individually plucked up, (or had a glass or two of) courage we found the brigade focussed, friendly and informative, a really relaxed team, and they seemed quite inured to the process of having these idiots galumphing around getting in the way and asking silly questions. A tribute to the team and I'm assuming it's partly a side effect of this happening every night.
We all had the "Taste of Skye" menu, eight courses and for most of us 'the wine flight', carefully chosen wines to compliment each course.
I can't fault the food, I am not a fan of shellfish and we'd flagged that in advance but when he mentioned it I asked the chef not to substitute anything, he probably had already decided I was too high maintenance but I'm trying to expand my piscatorial horizons and although the first four courses were crab,scallop,prawn and a variation of Cullin Skink I enjoyed each dish in its own right. I'd not have selected them from a menu but I devoured them enthusiastically along with the lamb, the venison, the cheese and the marmalade cake soufflé which was demonstrated for us, then cooked and delivered with Drambuie and panache.
We were invited to join Michael in the kitchen as the final few dishes were being dispatched to the front of house and thanks to my excellent volunteering skills I found myself plating up the venison dish for the last two diners. I felt that I did OK and the plate went out with no last minute fixing but the young guy slicing the meat was not letting me anywhere near his knife despite his boss suggesting that I'd be fine. I think after my eight glasses of carefully chosen "finest wines known to humanity" his judgement was probably spot-on.
The star turn, Michael Smith was an excellent host, really intense, focussed, affable but definitely in his space, and definitely in charge. Sadly he finishes at the Three Chimneys at the end of the month. A shame for the restaurant but they've an excellent replacement in the shape of Scott Davies (who has got Welshness going for him). Michael has has been there ten years and it is a beautiful and otherworldly place but it's a bloody long way from anywhere and maybe he'll turn up somewhere more accessible.
Definitely a highly skilled cook, great chef and 'twas an education to watch him running a kitchen.
He did inscribe my souvenir menu with "probably the best sous I've ever worked with" but I suspect that statement may contain large elements of tongue in cheek.
If you've the inclination, the time, the enthusiasm for good food and fine folk, if your relationship with your credit card company can take the strain, I'd recommend the Three Chimneys. Go on, relax...
Labels: blogfromthebarn, chef, cookery, cooking, house over by, inverness, kitchen table, loch dunveghan, Michael Smith, Michelin, Mrs Stuffy, scotland, simplystuffycooking, skye, taste of skye, Three Chimneys, venison
A very organic approach to engineering, bamboo bicycles...
The back story, my Christmas present this year (from the current wife) was a two-day workshop building a bicycle, from bamboo! A pretty niche idea but I'd enjoyed making my fixie (click here for that tale) so much last year that Mrs Stuffy felt that I'd like this.
Bikes made from wood? I admit that it took me by surprise but apparently bamboo is a very strong and light material and anyone who has seen it used as death-defying scaffolding in the far East knows how much load, stress and movement it can bear. The company,
www.bamboobicycleclub.org, sell kits (for home assembly) and also coached sessions in their studios in increasingly trendy Hackney Wick.
So I researched (well I googled 'bamboo bikes') various possible bikes and despite the obvious challenges, and the relatively small number of examples I decided to build a mountain bike, no real logic other than the amount of MTB bits I had lying around and a fortuitous, for them, marketing email from Chain reaction cycles offering a half price groupset. For the uninitiated that's the brakes, gears, pedals, cranks and chain, all designed to work together. A few late night drunken internet shopping sessions later and I had a bulging box of bits, saddle, handlebars, forks, wheels and tyres.
The workshop itself simply delivers (hopefully) the frame, 7 pieces of bamboo, custom designed to fit my bodily dimensions (normally a secret between myself and my tailor). These bamboo bits are bonded together with delightfully gloopy mix of hemp and epoxy resin to make a structurally sound bike frame capable (allegedly) of taking my not inconsiderable weight crashing down a hillside. Making it pretty and adding all the expensive metal and plastic to turn it from bits of wood into a rideable bike is phase two of the project.
Day 1
Thus it was that I arose at silly o'clock and schlepped on a Saturday morn to a chilly space filled with bamboo bikes, bamboo bike frames in various stages of construction, there I found two couples (dad&son and sister&brother) of similarly slightly bemused punters and James, our coach, instructor and bamboo evangelist for the weekend.
James had prepared aluminium jigs to hold the bamboo elements in the right place based on our physical dimensions and the type of bike we'd each selected. The other participants had opted for simpler challenges, road bikes, and James cheered me up by congratulating them on their wisdom in not taking on the technical challenges that I'd accepted. So far, so bloody typical,sorry, so good.
We picked out various lengths of bamboo, learning about fibre lengths, nodes, strengths and weakness and using various saws, knives, drills and jigs I then chopped pieces out of my fingers, thumbs and forearms until we had something that looked a bit like the pre-printed scale drawings we were supposed to be working toward.
Maybe it's James' laid back approach, maybe my choice of bike but it turned out to be a far more flexible and organic process than a classic engineering one, solving challenges and redesigning bits of the frame as the practicalities caused a series of minor compromises.
The others rushed on, unhindered by the need to consider fat tyres and disc brakes but by the end of day one we'd all assembled our frames, tacked together with glue, tape and in my case wishful thinking. Off home to shower off a bucketful of sawdust, stickiness and sweat, a sustaining supper and a good nights sleep.
Day 2
and a beautiful sunrise as I headed into London
So,here I am in sunny, chilly Hackney just a stones throw from the Olympic Velodrome, on day two of the bamboo bicycle workshop, the day which I like to think of as Gloopy Sunday.
The areas where the lengths of frame join are to be held together and reinforced by strips of hemp cloth saturated with epoxy resin, the basis of fibreglass. This layering and wrapping is similar to the process of making bikes and cars from carbon fibre, similar I think in the same way that TeamBreakfastBike working up an appetite on a Saturday morning is like Team Sky attacking the Tour de France.
The glooping, wrapping, slopping, sliding, slicing and taping was pretty much full-on all morning, but by late lunchtime we'd jointed all of our frames. We made a cursory attempt to lessen the amount of gum on clothes and skin and then strolled into the Arctic winds to a local Hipster hangout
the Crate Brewery for some excellent pizza and engaging chat whilst the miracle of exothermic chemistry turned our squidgy matting into rock hard lumps of plastic and cloth ready to be sanded, smoothed, filled, sanded, filled, sanded, smoothed, polished, painted and lacquered.
The BambooBeast (as I've provisionally named it) is now back in my workshop, ready for the next phase...
I really enjoyed the two days with James and the team and I'm looking forward to the next week or two of organic engineering...
Watch this space...
Labels: Alf Webb, bamboo, bamboo bike, bike, blog from the barn, blogfromthebarn, Chain Reaction cycles, CrateBrewery, fixie, Gloopy Sunday, Hackney Wick, hemp, mountain bike, MTB, oakwood barn, resin, Stuffy, Velodrome
Self inflicted pain, lots of it
Some weeks ago I was out cycling with a few chums, I say cycling, we were sitting in a cafe enjoying, in my case, Eggs Benedict, the ideal mid-ride snack for the healthy cyclist.
As I moved to the waffles, pancakes and maple syrup someone suggested that "we should do a sportive".
For those of you sensible enough to keep away from the phenomenon which is middle-aged-man-cycling a sportive is, not a race, but an organised cycle event, a couple of thousand folk following signed and marshalled routes, with feed stations, medical and mechanical support staff, and a T-shirt and medal if you survive.
We, (Team BreakfastBikeBuddies) normally cycle 30-40 road miles on a Saturday morning, so the prospect of cycling between 70 and 125 miles seemed like a bit of challenge but buzzing from the fine breakfast and the 'yeah let's do it' noises from the rest of the group I came home and immediately signed up to do an 85 mile ride, the Wiggle Magnificat.
A couple of interesting things happened then, pretty much everybody else seemed to have forgotten a prior appointment, organised holidays or family commitments which rendered them unable to turn out. I however, having impulsively shelled out my £30 entry fee was going to get my money's worth.
Two alone from Team BreakfastBikingBuddies stayed true, Winston, who chose to take on the 125 mile circuit and Anna who said she'd accompany me on the 85 miler.
The route started at Newbury racecourse and took a big loop through Ball Hill up Combe Hill, (couple of clues there) then down to Andover around and below Winchester and eventually back to Newbury via Kingsclere and Brimpton. As it happens I know most of those roads but driving around them gives a very different perception of the up and downs from cycling the same tracks.
At around 7:30 Anna and I set off, I'm a slow starter and it takes me 30 minutes or so to get warmed and loosened up, now, she has many fine qualities Anna but she's not blessed with patience, and it took her about a mile to suggest that I'd probably be OK if she buggered off.
I'm a wise old bird and I assured her she should sprint off and go at her own pace. She did so and it was a good three or maybe four minutes before I came upon her by the side of the road swearing like a trooper and taking off the punctured wheel she'd managed to acquire in remarkably short order.
Being a gentleman I sailed past giggling. I didn't really, I stopped and helped her fix the tyre, well aware that in an 6-7 hour slog, five minutes fixing a tyre was going to make minimal difference to my snail-like performance.
Onward we rode, taking it in turns to share the lead and as we warmed up and started to get comfortable we even overtook some people, obviously the instant I got to a hill and slowed to my traditional "turtle climbing a tree" pace all those people overtook me again but my descending skills (excessive weight and hysterical screaming) swung the balance back my way on the downhills and the ride, although arduous continued through some lovely countryside, up hill and down dale, (mostly up I reckon).
I've cycled further than this in France (
see the Tuxedo Tour) but this is the longest ride I've done without halfway beer and hourly coffee, still, despite that sacrifice I can't pretend that I didn't have fun.
We enjoyed another mechanical failure, (Anna briefly lost her chain, (and temper)) but it was a mostly enjoyable excursion and I'm sure my friends will all really wish they hadn't concocted lame excuses to avoid turning out.
Kudos to Winston on his time over a hell of a long day and very best wishes to Anna who sailed over the finish line with me and is really looking forward to doing the Ride-London 100- miler in August.
.
They do say that a man should know his limits, based on this 85 mile ride I reckon mine kick in at about 84 miles.
Next challenge, "Team Tuxedo do Corsica" in September, I'll keep you posted.
Labels: Battaglin, blogfromthebarn, Combe Gibbet, cycling, feed station, Kingsclere, Magnificat, mountain bike, puncture, road bike, sportive, Wiggle
A fixation, a fixie, a flirtation with fashion,, a folly?
I am, as many of you will know, one of those folk who seem to always need a project.
Over the last year or two I've been intermittently fixing, modifying, rustically pimping and mechanically restructuring my Series 3 Land Rover and despite my best endeavours it's now currently running smoothly and my list of things to resolve has 98% of its boxes ticked.
The joy of a Land Rover is that it won't stay fixed for long. But, O best beloveds, "a project" is a very different thing than fixing. There are always demands at the barn for my dubious repair skills, some triggered by chickens, foxes or bees. Some by garden activity, trees falling down, the occasional exercise in electrical, the inevitable plumbing challenge.
I always have a few bike maintenance jobs on hand but again that's not a project, bikes break and I fix them, that's just the circle of life.
So, a project...
For no good reason I found myself looking wistfully at an old bike I've had hanging around for a bit and deciding that what it needed was everything extraneous or superfluous stripped off, cleaned, painted and rebuilt as a single speed or fixie bike. Fixies are very much the 'now' thing in cycling in our cities, single speed, (no complex heavy gears) lightweight, minimalist bikes built to cut through heavy traffic and designed to go quickly along flat city streets rather than up and down hills with much puffing and panting. As I live miles from the city, with plenty of ups and downs not only an impractical but a downright silly idea.
I started browsing the web for inspiration and ideas and was checking out prices of various components on Ebay when I came across a listing for a single speed bike, the right sized frame but with a number of mechanical problems, mostly around buggered up (technical term) wheel, bracket and hub bearings, damaged wheels and defective brakes.
There was little bidding activity on this bike which I put down to this terrible photograph used to portray it but the text did mention that the builder was a chap called Alf Webb, a name I knew. He's a bit of a bike maintenance legend and a little research on various cycling forums identified a number of comments, criticisms and photos of similar bikes, apparently Alf specced and commissioned 250 track bikes a few years ago as "a project" and to promote his wheel building service. So, the original plan paused and I put in a very low offer in to try and win this bike.
No sooner bid than done, the bidding never really heated up and I won the auction for £60. An apologetic mumble to Mrs Stuffy that I'd 'accidentally' bought yet another bike, a quick drive to delightful Didcot and I was delighted (relieved) to finally see what I'd bought and discover that it was pretty much what I'd hoped for. Result!
I bought the bike back home and stripped everything off it. An exchange of emails and conversations with Alf and with support from the twin resources of
Wiggle and the helpful gents at my Local Bike Shop, (
Wellington Trek in Sunningdale) I spent a couple of evenings, rebuilding the bearings and wheels.
Then it was back onto Ebay to find cheap replacements for the pedals, handlebars and brake system. It's a flip-flop hub so I can either run it with a freewheel or fixed, (fixed means using backward pressure on the pedals to make the back wheel skid and hopefully stop before impact). I've not tried it fixed yet but I shall.
The frame cleaned up really well, has little damage and is a lurid dark blue/purplish/black effect, it looks a little as if it was painted by dipping it into an oil bath but I quite like the effect and decided to try and stick with a blue theme for handlebar tape, pedals and chain.
The saddle was well past it so (thanks Ebay) I sourced a replacement and I really didn't want drop or straight handlebars, the bike originally had some nice Deda drops but I'd decided I definitely wanted bullhorns.
Again Ebay was my friend and I managed to find some really nice ones (Deda again) for a tenner including postage.
I've added some additional touches, some tensioners designed for BMX bikes to help keep the chain working effectively and I like the blue mountain bike pedals, this velo doesn't need clips, I'm not racing it and I do want to be able to hop on it in a pair of ordinary shoes and pop to the pub or pick up the papers without all the lycra/lubrication and gear that invariably accompanies the annual
Tuxedo Team tour (this year watch out Corsica) or the weekly road or off-road exploits of the group of my chums collectively known as the Breakfast Bike Buddies (motto, "it's not about the bike, or the ride, it's all about the breakfast").
So that's the Alf Webb fixie project, pretty much done, I'm happy with the result and thought I'd share it with you, the only question now is, what's the next project?
Well I've still got that original bike hanging around, I wonder ...
Labels: Alf Webb, bike, blogfromthebarn, Breakfastbikebuddies, bullhorn, Deda, fixie, flip-flip hub, LBS, Local Bike Chop, Oakwood, project, rebuild, Stuffy, Tuxedo tour, Wellgo, wellington trek, Wiggle
Opera! What's that all about?
I've always considered myself to be a pretty open-minded sort of fellow, unwilling to judge without evidence or experience, always happy to try and understand another's point of view, preference, perspective and passion. That's what I've always considered myself to be despite all the evidence to the contrary.
But I'm pretty sure I'm not a cultural philistine, I enjoy some art, I love a nice sculpture, I've dabbled with painting and music, I read voraciously, I'm a big cinema fan, but, If I'm honest, and I usually am, I've always had a bit of a downer on pretty much all things theatrical.
I find actors on stage to be mostly shouty, wavy, overblown and self-indulgent which makes a theatrical evening with Mrs Stuffy, who loves a drama, an exercise in ill-concealed self-sacrifice (for me) and gritted teeth (her). But I've never seen a real live opera, not sure why, like maturity it's something that just hasn't happened for me.
Until last night, (opera, not maturity).
Along with the lovely Sophie her ladyship and I whizzed up to the Albert Hall to experience Puccini's La Boheme, in the round. Curiously I have seen a few performance of operas on film, and Madame Butterfly (by the same dead bloke), once seen as a school trip, made, I recall, a real impression.
So I was prepared to be impressed, once more.
I'll start with the positives, the setting is great, I love the Albert Hall, the set was very clever, delivering a garret, a restaurant and a railway station, atmospherically and entertainingly. The scene in the restaurant was excellent theatre, dancing, roller-skating waiters, acrobatics, clowning and tomfoolery, great costumes, excellent choreography and some fine performances from a tremendously varied but well-cast troupe of bit players.
As an aside, surely everyone loves a roller-skating waiter? I'm not sure why they're not mandatory in all eateries.
So what's not to like? Well it sounds silly when I write it but it's the singing, technically impressive voices, both male and female but I found that the theatricality of the delivery, the sheer power of the voices, the focus on the delivery of the song failed to involve or interest me in the story, I just didn't care.
On the subject of caring, to the audience. There is a type of person who feels the need to demonstrate that either they know the opera backward or that they speak perfect Italian who telegraph each 'amusing bit' with a knowing guffaw, preemptive applause or 'better than thou' chuckle. Stop it you pretentious twits. No-one cares.
My enjoyment was also somewhat marred by the presence immediately in front of us of a chap who arrived pretty drunk and continued to get drunker throughout the evening.
Mrs Stuffy seemed surprised (and relieved) that this obnoxious gentleman made it through the performance un-smacked but I was focussed on understanding and appreciating the experience and had a hunch that I too might have enjoyed it a little more if mellowed by a glass or several.
Would I go to another opera? This wasn't an evening where one came away humming the songs, they were, to my discerning ear, instantly forgettable. Maybe I'd enjoy something lighter where I already love the music, Porgy and Bess, Carmen, Threepenny Opera but it does seem a very, very, silly way to tell a story, delivering "I'm going to the shops" dialogue in voices that could silence a stadium.
Best line overheard 'I didn't realise it was all singing!"
And incidentally, if I'm ever dying of TB get me some proper medical care, not a nice warm muff for my tiny frozen hands, bad medical guidance from Puccini there.
Adieu and thank you
Labels: albert hall, blog from the barn, blogfromthebarn, critic, la boheme, opera, puccini, Stuffy Oakwood barn
A celebration of Scottishness, we Celts have to stick together
We've a chum called Gerry, he's the landlord of the excellent Inn@WestEnd, a delightful hostelry about one village over which serves fine food ale and wine at (he assures me) very reasonable prices.
Each year, on or around the 25th of Jan,traditional celebration evening of Scotland's premier poet, Robbie Burns, Gerry hosts a Burns night.
They normally manage to include all the traditional elements, a piper, smoked salmon, haggis, venison and cranachan, neeps, tatties, wine, whisky, women and song, whimsical poetry dedicated to cooked offal and a little speechifying from some of the guests.
We, Mrs Stuffy and I, have attended for the last few years and always enjoyed the evening, (any excuse for me to break out the kilt) and this year we found ourselves booking and hosting a table for twelve. It would appear we'd made it sound very appealing to some of our chums.
After we'd made the reservation I received a text from Gerry asking me if I'd be prepared to deliver the toast to the lassies, a teasing but appreciative paean of praise to the fairer sex.
How could I decline? I sat down and sketched out a couple of pages and Cha, as a professional actress, coached me with delivery and "that's not funny" feedback.
 |
| Steve, Dean and Glenn, in various stages of inebriation and varying degrees of fake Scottishness. |
It went well, it was a fun evening and in response to a host of requests I agreed to post the speech here, enjoy, or not, as you wish.
To the lassies
It was very brave of Gerry when looking for a warm-hearted Scottish chap, able and willing to speak well of womanhood, to choose instead to recruit a grumpy,semi-articulate Welsh misogynist...
...but who am I to challenge his judgement?
Maybe he was thinking " we need someone with lots of experience of the fairer sex" but, as my dear old mum said at my wedding " he could have had any woman he pleased, sadly he never pleased any of them".
Maybe he was thinking of my technology background, the Scots are of course an engineering nation but that's traditionally the Scottish men, and today, according to the (Scottish) (male) Minister for technology apparently we're now entering a period of rapidly moving forward, which can only be good news for the fairer sex, who some might say have never really got the hang of reversing.
Some might say that, not me, obviously.
Indeed when we're talking of exemplary women, many folk apparently see Margaret Thatcher’s " the lady is not for turning" speech as less of a statement of political intent, more a lament for a lack of parking skills.
Oh yes, it's all too easy when talking of the ladies to take the easy route and criticise women drivers, but that's not for me …
...because I'm pretty sure there's many a lady here who has, this evening, mysteriously found herself in sudden possession of the car keys as Gerry's notorious generosity with the wine bottle starts to kick in.
Here's today's made up fact, The kilt, as we see it so beautifully modelled here was an invention of a Manchester cotton mill owner, intended to use up surplus cloth.
But for all that, there's no doubt that the Scottish male has adopted the kilt, they're a proud nation, but I can't help thinking it's an unconscious admission that it's very rarely the man of the house that truly wears the trousers.
In the last few decades our society has evolved enormously in terms of equality for the working woman but we still hear, all too often, of the barriers to their advancement, we hear of “the glass ceiling:, seen by many woman as an insurmountable obstacle to career advancement but, to be honest, a glass ceiling is equally threatening to a man in a kilt.
Particularly to those of us who practice the "true Scotsman" approach to underwear.
I mentioned the lack of woman engineers but women, of course, have invented many things, the concept of re-washing up, the curious ritual of re-getting dressed to go out, and of course they excel in the realms of philosophy.
Many male philosophers have spent years trying to comprehend the level of abstract thought required to come up with " I shouldn't have to tell you what's wrong, if you loved me you would know what I imagine you meant when I invented the conversation you didn't have with someone I don't like"
or indeed, the awesome simplicity and genius innate in the philosophical concept of the totally unanswerable question,
" does this dress make me look fat?"
But it's their ability to accommodate our tiny little flaws, that offers the true picture of womanhood, and in the real world we should not classify the ladies by reference to so-called female role models whether they be Margaret, Miley or the blessed Nigella.
We should look around this room, at the wives and the girlfriends, (may they never meet) the mothers, the sisters, the grans, the daughters, it's the lassies that complete us, that torment us, that make, and break, our hearts.
For, as Rabbie Burns said
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met-or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Gentlemen, to the lassies.
.Labels: blogfromthebarn, Burns Night, cranachan, Gerry Price, haggis, innatwestend, mrs stuffy., Oakwood, Stuffy, toast to the lassies, venison, whisky
Anniversary indulgence, The Hand and Flowers
Mrs Stuffy and I are irregular followers of the Professional Masterchef series as you'll know from my Michel Roux Jr post and we also enjoy the Great British Menu (particularly this year as one of the runners-up was Mary-Ann Gilchrist from Llanwrtyd Wells, someone whose cooking I think easily merits the 300 mile round trip).
But I digress, Mrs Stuffy (like many ladies in this part of the world apparently) has become a bit of a fan of Tom Kerridge, chef at the Hand and Flowers in Marlow, a larger than life figure who is pretty much ubiquitous in both those cookery programmes and indeed most culinary broadcasting on the tellybox at the moment. As is ever the case with her ladyship, no sooner the thought than the action and she promptly leapt to the phones and secured a 9:00 pm dinner reservation on our 13th wedding anniversary at his 2** Michelin starred pub in Marlow, some forty minutes up the road from us.
Nine of an evening is late dining for us but getting this reservation was no small achievement and required military grade anticipation and planning, they're booked solid on Fridays and Saturdays till November 2014 and weeknights aren't much better. With tastebuds a tingling we set off on a wild and wet and windy weeknight to celebrate 13 years of wedded bliss. (total lack of sarcasm there by the way).
It's billed as Britain's only Michelin starred pub and I'm not sure where the line is between restaurant, pub and gastropub, they also have some bedrooms apparently so go-figure as our American chums say, however whatever it is it's a welcoming establishment, the staff were young, from many corners of the world and competent,calm and cheerful, one suspects that Tom, if you do a good job, is probably a nice guy to work for.
Despite his claims that it's simple food it isn't really, it's very high quality dining served in a relaxed setting, this is not just well-executed pub grub. You can see the menu here, so I won't go into detail but I'm happy to admit that I was blown away by the flavours in my starter, a clever alternative scotch egg, using salt cod as the meat wrapping and a perfectly cooked bantam egg at it's core. My main course of pork was sublime but it's the dessert we've been boring people to death with for the past fortnight.
I was replete and not drinking so demurred when asked to plump for a sweet but her ladyship bullied me into sharing a Chocolate and Ale cake with a muscovado and salted caramel ice cream.
The cake, tried on its own, was just a little too bitter, the ice cream, on its own, too salt. Together, they blended into distinct but complimentary melt-in-the-mouth deliciousness, beautifully presented, exceedingly clever, a sign of a great palate and perfectly executed.
Many top restaurants deliver flawless food, but perfect delivery can all too often be less than exciting, this meal was a series of small delights. It wasn't a cheap supper but well worth it, I'm glad we saved up for 13 years for it.
Her ladyship chatted to the man himself in the bar afterwards, service having ended and told him how much better than Le Gavroche it was, good timing since he and Michel Roux Jr were on the radio together next morning, I hope Tom was polite enough to keep Mrs Stuffy's observations between the two of them.
But, you know, I reckon she was right...
If you can, go there.... enjoy
Labels: blog, blogfromthebarn, chocolate and ale cake, cookingfromthebarn, gastropub, hand and flowers, marlow, Michel Roux Jr, Michelin stars, pub, restaurant, Stuffy Oakwood barn, tom kerridge, wedding anniversary
I'll make you Roux the day that ...
Every year for birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries my lady wife and I go through a complex and often confusing (to outsiders) process.
Mrs Stuffy buys me something that I would love to have but could never justify buying for myself whilst I buy her something that she hides in a wardrobe until she thinks I've forgotten about it (I never, ever, do).
As a result we now try and identify things like breaks, holidays, trips, weekends away, transient experiences that show we care but don't hang around if we get it wrong. Our recent Maldivian excursion was my attempt to please my birthday girl.
Last April, as yet another birthday dawned to the sound of church bells and urchins taunting me in the street, I discovered that I was enrolled in a cookery school session with that chap off Masterchef, not the plump, pugnacious one, the skinny, skillful one, Michel Roux Jr.
I was delighted, I love to cook, I love to learn, he's obviously no slouch in the kitchen and he comes across well on his many TV appearances.
His signature restaurant is Le Gavroche, still one of the top UK restaurants, in that there, shabby London ghetto of Mayfair* and I'd not eaten there for some 20 years so it was fortuitous timing that chums Scot and Rosie shared a sumptuous (and very reasonably priced**) supper with us there a couple of weeks ago. I'd sort of hoped that Monsieur Le Chef would be there but it seems that "going to the rugby" justifies a night off from the pass.
So to my birthday present, an intimate day cooking fine food with certainly one of the most respected (and to be honest, intimidating) chefs in the UK. The venue is the top floor cookery school at Cactus Kitchens in Clapham, it's part of a complex that also houses the studios for a number of cookery programmes including Saturday Kitchen, not a show I often see but I think I look at home on the set.
I joined the other students, (I think 'mature students' is appropriate), inevitably a mixed bag of mostly middle-aged keen foodies, chatty, knowledgeable and seemingly passionate about food, in some cases blessed, as I am, with a partner who will pay handsomely to get them out of the house for a day.
We coffee'd, we danish'd, we broke the conversational ice, we laughed nervously, we were mollycoddled by the lovely ladies who run the place and then we trooped upstairs into the eaves to meet the man.
I've done a cookery school at Raymond Blancs gaff, Le manoir aux quat' saison which was enjoyable but made notable by an absolute lack of Raymond. This was very different.
We gathered around Michel and he effortlessly kicked off the day, the format was fun, he'd demo some techniques all the while chatting about chef stuff, TV stuff, food stuff, personal stuff, encouraging questions, interaction and creating an easy informality.
We then scurried off to our well-appointed stations to try and replicate what he'd shown us. As we exercised our respective culinary skills Michel circulated enthusiastically and guided, pointed out, complimented, enthused and in the case of my beurre blanc, rescued.
We made fougasse, it's an easy bread but great fun, we cooked artichokes, a new experience for me, creating an artichoke cocotte filled with baked egg, ham, cream and chorizo. It was an interesting dish and obviously chosen to enable the demonstration (and subsequent exercise) of many skills, knife work, stove and oven use, palate, timing, concentration and a little instinct. It's a dish I'm now very happy with and will be delighted to inflict on family and chums here at the Barn.
We also prepped and cooked some exceedingly fresh scallops, poached in a leek stock and served with leeks julienne on smoked salmon. Again, out of my comfort zone, I'm not a shellfish fan but I was delighted with the results, the techniques and information imparted and will be more than happy to deliver this dish to whomsoever is here next for supper.
All the clients seemed to be at least competent in the kitchen, apparently that's not always the case, they do have folk show up with no kitchen skills but I can't help thinking that would be a waste of some great instruction and insight.
Overall I find it hard to fault the day, the venue, the organisation or the host. As those who know me will probably attest I'm not prone to praise but he seemed to be a genuinely nice bloke and I'm now moved to break all my rules and congratulate my better half on a great gift and a great day.
With Christmas on the horizon, no pressure there then***.
*sarcasm
**more sarcasm
***panic
NB Click on the Cactus kitchens logo for a link to their website.
Labels: artichoke, blogfromthebarn, Cactus Kitchens, clapham, Cookery School, fougasse, le gavroche, Michel Roux Jr, saturday kitchen, scallops, simplystuffycooking, Stuffy, whatsdadcookingnow
