...we're beautful. Don't you?Tuesday, 10 June 2008
Summer's a comin'...
London does not adapt particularly well to heat, especially underground, but sitting quietly thinking of cool, fresh spaces keeps the journey within the limits of sanity. Here's a lovely early evening view from the Mothership's house across the barley to the beck. Most mind soothing in a sweaty tunnel...along with the thought of a glass of Pimms at the other end!
PS Note from Fabwyck to McKinky: my regards to Nigel ;o)
Thursday, 27 March 2008
A haunting....
Several years ago, when Fabwyck first dwelt in the capital, a take away leaflet of a different sort popped through the letterbox. It wasn't the usual garish and brash result of cheap printing deals. It was long, slim, the green of a soft fragrant leaf and the chic minimal typeface professed to hold the key to the perfect thin Italian pizza (albeit within a certain postcode).
This, faithful reader, even in the London of the Nineties with foddie-ism awakening in the hearts and minds of Londoners, was a bold and courageous statement. Pizza is international for better or worse. One night Fabwyck and a friend decided to challenge the leaflet to do its best and ordered an 18" wonder.
The outcome?
The mists of time float around extraneous narrative detail, the weather, the time of year, the waiting, the delivery boy's smile (no doubt he had one) and leave only the jewel in the crown.
The pizza.
It was wide. It was vinyl thin. The tomato base was freshly cooked, the topping luscious and balanced as only an instinctive and experienced pizzeria can produce. It was soft and crunchie where required and delivered all the promise of its type and more. The flat where I ate it is a faded entry in my address book, the friend long gone from my life, but the memory of that pizza will linger forever like the kiss of a cherished lover.
Why now do I recall this pizza? Tonight, returning home still nourished by the free lunches I'm currently enjoying (today: creamy mushroom risotto, vanilla pannacotta with ginger poached rhubarb), I opened the front door. I saw it at once, slipped under the stodgy white envelopes and plastic wrapped magazines. A long, slim, pale green leaflet bearing one word:
basilico
175 Lavender Hill SW11 5TE
http://www.basilico.co.uk/
This, faithful reader, even in the London of the Nineties with foddie-ism awakening in the hearts and minds of Londoners, was a bold and courageous statement. Pizza is international for better or worse. One night Fabwyck and a friend decided to challenge the leaflet to do its best and ordered an 18" wonder.
The outcome?
The mists of time float around extraneous narrative detail, the weather, the time of year, the waiting, the delivery boy's smile (no doubt he had one) and leave only the jewel in the crown.
The pizza.
It was wide. It was vinyl thin. The tomato base was freshly cooked, the topping luscious and balanced as only an instinctive and experienced pizzeria can produce. It was soft and crunchie where required and delivered all the promise of its type and more. The flat where I ate it is a faded entry in my address book, the friend long gone from my life, but the memory of that pizza will linger forever like the kiss of a cherished lover.
Why now do I recall this pizza? Tonight, returning home still nourished by the free lunches I'm currently enjoying (today: creamy mushroom risotto, vanilla pannacotta with ginger poached rhubarb), I opened the front door. I saw it at once, slipped under the stodgy white envelopes and plastic wrapped magazines. A long, slim, pale green leaflet bearing one word:
basilico
175 Lavender Hill SW11 5TE
http://www.basilico.co.uk/
Thursday, 28 February 2008
Sprouts of Recovery
....purple sprouting broccoli accompanied by juicy organic steak, new potatoes and shredded savoy cabbage. After all, I have a headcold to feed.Tuesday, 26 February 2008
Directions
It's been a quiet couple of weeks - mostly because F & M have been wrestling with the directions their lives are taking and both are currently travelling complicated paths. So, whilst we navigate the uneven ground, crowded paths and some pleasant distractions, we're bloglite. Memories of New Year are still lingering, just, and another trip to Roma will soon be in the offing...
Last but not least, will the yummy barman still be there with is prosecco at the ready?!
Last but not least, will the yummy barman still be there with is prosecco at the ready?!Tuesday, 5 February 2008
This Tuesday ain't shriven...
Despite a desire for "pancakes annointed with lemon juice and caster sugar" actually I have realised that tonight vodka & tonic, jazz and chicken is the magic formula. Pancakes can wait until the weekend.
Thursday, 31 January 2008
Farewell January
The petulant strumpet January leaves the calendar with a flouncing strop of temper. Winds whip, gales gall, and rain drenches.
Oh, by contract how February looks friendly... Six Nations Rugby, pancakes anointed with lemon juice and caster sugar, heart shaped chocolates (even if not the actual hearts) and a special extra day tagged on the end which every assertive unwed girls will secretly eye with glee!
Oh, by contract how February looks friendly... Six Nations Rugby, pancakes anointed with lemon juice and caster sugar, heart shaped chocolates (even if not the actual hearts) and a special extra day tagged on the end which every assertive unwed girls will secretly eye with glee!
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