Something Fishy

Filleting Course

A rather unusual activity for me - gutting fish, however, it was available at a steal so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have a try.  I sauntered over to Gloucester Road to The Fish Shop.  What else are ya gonna do on a freezing Tuesday evening other than stand in a controlled (cold) temperature handling fish that have been on ice?  I met the Fish Shop team Dan & Matt, who were cramming in a quick beer next door after their long day on their feet, and I ordered myself a tipple also.  Then I, accompanied by my small class of 5, followed the guys next door where we donned our aprons and signed a disclaimer regarding handling of knives.  Here I questioned my decision to have a Malbec prior to signing my fingers away, hmmm should have thought that out.

We were given a work station and, after a little game of 'Identify The Fish' (I guessed trout on all, law of averages state I'll be right eventually) we got straight to business with a couple of Mackerel.  We were shown first how to remove it's jiggy bits and it wasn't til I had my thumb and index finger inside it's gills and ripping out it's wotsits that I realised my squeamishness may limit my education on this one.  But with a quick glance towards the ceiling and a good swift tug the wobbly bits were out of my eyeline and out of my Mackerel.  Not so bad, my nausea soon dissolved.  Aswell as the Mackerel, I learned how to fillet a Seabass, a Dab and a few Squid.  Whilst gutting the poor little blighters we picked up some tips on how to pick out the freshest ones from the fishmongers and how to cook them so they're scrummy.  I even got a chance to try an Oyster which was much tastier than I had expected.  I wish I'd tried them earlier, rumour can delay a good experience...I shall be making up for lost time there.

The evening came to a close with our fishy tutor packing up our handiwork to take home aswell as a few extra gifts of prawns, kippers and some fish bits'n'bobs to make our very own stock.  Dan and his crew sell all varieties of fruits of the sea aswell as sushi products, squid ink, dressed crab, you get the message, they sell a lot!  With a freezer stocked with enough seafood to feed a small army I am prepared for the usually lean month of January.  Does anyone know if Sainsburys Basics baked beans are a good accompaniment to Seabass?  Answers on a postcard please...

www.glosroadfish.co.uk

Image courtesy of: www.emmadibben.com

Miam-Miam!

Learn French In The Kitchen

Here I am, again in danger of appearing a 'foodie', oh dear. But I couldn't refuse this one. Having spent 6 years studying the French language at school I only recently got the chance to put it to the test whilst on holiday near Bordeaux last year....ahem, 13 years later. A simple request for a takeaway coffee resulted in a downward spiral of words crudely sewn together by a rusty memory. For your entertainment, it translated a little like this, "Is it that it is possible for me to buy a coffee for to take on the beach?" The concise response of "a emporter?" shall remain in my memory bank as will the titters of laughter that circulated the coffee shop. So I decided that my diligent teenage eagerness to study French should not go to any further waste. I found a short course, run by Alliance Française, that covers cooking in French, and we all know how much I like THAT particular subject. Plus, if I'm completely lost at least I can be sure of the subject matter and guess the rest, right?

I had an informal assessment prior to the course to ascertain my level of French. Despite my horrendous grasp of verbs (mon dieu!).  The tutor fed back that although I wasn't exactly fluent I was able to string a sentence together, sufficient enough to be understood (see coffee anecdote above...I got my coffee didn't I?!) so that was enough to give it a whirl.  I succeeded in bagging a place on the course and I was bound for la cuisine.

I turned up at my first class to meet my tutor, Iza, and my 2 classmates. Both my classmates had more of an understanding of the language than me, one was practically fluent and the other had the confidence to give it a whack, something I lacked. I spent the first class piecing together responses to their conversation, only to find that once I'd constructed a sentence that I was satisfied with, the subject had moved on and my beautiful sentence was rendered useless.  Pah! Weirdly enough, throughout the first class I seemed to think in Irish rather than French. Typical. 14 years of learning Irish with not a glimmer of fluency and NOW it rears it's head in my memory bank!

On the side of my academic journey I picked up some tasty dishes.  The first dish of the course was a Pumpkin & Celeriac Gratin, week two had us baking a Seafood Parcel and on the final week we took on a more complicated but typically French dish, a Tarte Tatin. As the weeks rolled on my confidence grew and, regardless of whether I had constructed a completed sentence prior to opening my gob, I went for it anyway. I had already missed the boat on far too many conversations. I found I wasn't so bad as the French came more fluidly to me.  The relaxed atmosphere of Iza's kitchen was a far cry from the days sitting in a cold classroom waiting avec impatience for 3.30 to creep along. 

The three classes ended far too quickly, I was disappointed that my regular chances to parler Francais came to an end. Not only did I enjoy chatting in French, I learned some scrummy recipes. I resolved that I really must look into night classes....but I'll just finish off this last Seafood Parcel first...

afbristol.org.uk
Image: Sinéad Millea

Ministry of Funny Walks

Why Don’t We Do It In The Road? — love, sex and violence on the streets of Bedminster

Sinéad Nua posts are like a rural bus service, you wait for ages for one and then two come along at once!  I've been rather busy storing nuts for the winter but did manage to venture out one Sunday afternoon for a rather entertaining presentation of the history of Bedminster.  Why don't we do it in the road? is a weekly event run throughout Summer* by the Show Of Strength Theatre Company.  For a humble £6 (it's the large glass of pinot you'd have had with your sunday roast) this theatrical walk of North Street unveils tales of the most eccentric folk who graced the area over the last few centuries.  Apparently every word is true but I'll leave that up to you to decipher!

We started at the Aldi carpark and I wondered to myself, "What in the name of Caraboo is this location relevant to?"  I pondered whether I was being drafted into a cult however the cheery bunting displayed in the centre of the car park put me at ease.  So I handed over my money and the guides/performers introduced themselves and the tour, emphasising with great pride that this 'ere walk were about Bemmy folk and not those posh Cliftonites...gulp, with a BS8 postcode I started to get nervous, especially when we were encouraged to wave our arms in the air when the word 'Clifton' was mentioned...stay cool, it's all in jest, they'll never know...

We made our way to the Tobacco Factory where we were greeted by the first of many characters who were to enthrall us with their peculiar life stories.  We learned about the workers of Wills Tobacco, the local barber who went over Niagara Falls in a barrel & Britain's biggest gold robbery.  All of these were played by the two guides, subtly changing costume along the way.  The walk was highly entertaining and this approach to educating history is one I would wholeheartedly encourage in schools.  I'd have learned a helluva lot more if I had been taught this way!  However, the afternoon contained my most surreal experience to date - singing happy birthday to a pie shop...bonkers. 

*The last performance of 2011 is September 25th - go, go go!

http://showofstrength.org.uk/productions/wdwdiitr-2011 
Images: Sinéad Millea

Wow! Gorillas!

Bristol Active Gorilla Hunt

My search for new experiences can sometimes take a wayward turn.  I was recently asked to join a gorilla hunt.  I was aghast I assure you (please read on PETA)!  The invite came through from the Bristol Active social group and referred to the lifesize statues that featured throughout Bristol this summer.  Ah, what a relief, no giant gorilla tranquilisers required! 

The statues were commissioned to mark the 175th anniversary of Bristol Zoo Gardens, all 61 were dotted throughout Bristol and beyond, each one decorated by it's own assigned artist.

I met the group at a pub in the centre where we introduced ourselves over a pint before breaking off into separate teams.  The hunt involved a mission to find as many of the blighters as we could in 90 minutes.  Off we went armed with a quiz full of 30 questions relevant to each gorilla within a couple of miles of the city - just to prove we did see them and not just stayed in the pub googling images!  The hunt took us on a circular route through Bristol city.  While meandering through the streets picking out our favourites we got to know one another a little.

The group is made of a mixed bunch of over 30s, all joined in their common appreciation for socialising.  I learned that they put a great deal of organisation into their get togethers, for example the Royal Wedding celebrations took them on a crawl to each royal themed pub!  They also get involved with sporty things, cinema and country walks, so a bit of something for everyone. 

Anyway back to the gorillas, our hunt ended with a prize-giving and celebratory beer at a city centre pub.  Incidentally, my favourites were the pirate one dominating King Street and the intricately painted fella in Millenium Square which was packed full of historical and (literally) colourful facts.  It was a fab little evening walk through the city.  Sadly the gorillas have been moved and, as I write this, are preparing themselves for auction but you can see them one last time altogether at Bristol Zoo Gardens - check the link below for more info!

http://www.bristolactive.org.uk/

http://www.bristolzoo.org.uk/wow-gorillas

Images: Sinéad Millea   

Prost!

New Munich Beer Challenge

I made a pact with myself this year that I would holiday alone at some point. I wanted to prove to myself that I could go away by myself and not want to turn my own face inside out from the boredom of my own company. When an invite to a wedding in Bavaria came through I seized my chance to piggy back a few days in Munich ‘allein’ as they say.

I wasn’t going to let a minor hurdle like the language barrier get in my way. I thought it polite however to at least learn the phrase, “I do not speak German, do you speak English?” just to make an effort. I studied this sentence all the way from Bristol to Rosenheim train station. On arrival I very proudly stated “Ich sprechen kein Deutsch. Sprechen sie Englisch?” The response was a cool and sharp “No”. Damn. That’s as far as I got with the German lessons en route. So I learned to communicate with a range of smiles & nods and a very stylish array of hand gestures. It got me by. Slapping your train ticket against the kiosk glass is a useful language for many a traveller to learn. I found my platform eventually through the medium of expressive dance...

The wedding was wonderful. If you ever get a chance to attend/gatecrash a Bavarian wedding DO IT, highly recommended, even worth getting deported for. Following a relaxing few days of lake swimming and beer swilling I took myself off on my solitary venture. Following a guided ramble through the city I signed up for a beer tour. It is afterall the beer capital of the Universe and they take it very seriously indeed! You won’t find your Carlsbergs and your Stellas here but what you will find is this hangover free golden nectar. Yes really - hangover free! This is down to the Purity Law whereby no beer can contain anything other than grain, hops and water. Rest assured that this is the good stuff and I should know, I’ve had my fair share of beer headaches.

First beer was Tegernseer Hell (don’t be spooked by the name, Hell simply means light...my German is improving you see) and we got to drink it on the street without shameful tuts from passers by. They allow street drinking in Munich. I guess as a nation of rule followers the Germans get the leniency that we don’t, lucky sods. Next came the Hefe Weissebeer, Hacker Pschorr, which I enjoyed in the Viktualienmarkt, the outdoor farmers market in the city centre. Now I was starting to get tipsy and the ginormous pretzels were calling. I was on a roll here so I moved confidently onto a litre of Augustiner Edelstoff. I had to use both hands to pick this bad boy up. The next beer (the name escapes me for obvious reasons) was a helles beer or light beer but due to it being brewed right there on the premises it took on the appearance of a weisse beer. It was like a German thunderstorm - cloudy, moody and exciting! The evening was finished off with a Jäegermeister and a bout of memory loss (see above).

The following morning was sketchy, I was experiencing my first German 'beer head'. Compared to the British and Irish ones I had previously encountered it was a breeze and I had a dose of ‘Hair Of The Dog’ and half a pig at the Hofbräuhaus before taking my flight homeward bound. Those Germans sure know how to show a foreigner a good time. I rolled all the way back to Bristol and discovered I'm not bad company afterall.

http://www.newmunichtours.com/daily-tours/new-munich-beer-challenge.html
Image: Sinéad Millea.

A League Of Her Own

Clifton Softball

I've noticed that my most recent posts are food and drink related. Not wanting to pigeon hole myself (or appear to be a greedy guts) I decided to try my hand at something active. I had a sniff around Google and found a merry bunch of sports fans who gather on Clifton Downs each Wednesday to play Softball. The e-mail invite that followed from 'The Fluffy Bunnies' conjured up thoughts of prancing through the grass throwing a spongy ball about. However, it ain't no "soft" ball. Where does the term 'softball' come from anyhow? It's like having a small planet hurled through the sky...and I thought Camogie was a health hazard.

Within minutes of standing 'outfield' I was transported via memory lane to schoolday PE classes where I ran away from any sporting equipment that was lobbed in my direction. So here I am, daydreaming on the edge of Clifton Down, when I get rudely awoken by one of my team mates yelling, "Catch!!" Jaysus, the fright when I looked up and saw a yellow Pluto flying towards my head. I ducked and feigned a lame catch type gesture until a fellow Bunny leapt in and whipped it out of my path. Right, going to have to pay attention. This is a matter of life or hole in head.

I slowly started to understand the goings on and eventually got a chance to swing the bat. I managed a comedy 360 and when I did hit the ball it was out leaving me to do the walk of shame to the sidelines. The team were very encouraging despite our pitiful score. I later found out that the Fluffy Bunnies aren't exactly at the top of the league so rocking up and meeting new folk is on everyone's agenda, which was exactly what I wanted to achieve. They even go to the pub to drink beer and eat chips, they're just like me but with mitts and bats.

On the first game I teetered between hating it and really enjoying it so I decided to go back and give it another shot. Week 2 saw the introduction of running for Sinéad Nua, I hit the ball and got to run to each base and eventually 'home'. I was met with a little applause by my new team. This game we won however I can't take any of the credit....well, maybe some. Hoorah, I am not deficient in sportiness!

http://www.cliftonsoftball.co.uk/
Image: cliftonsoftball.co.uk/

My Big Fat Greek Cooking Class

Entelia Greek Cookery Class

Day after day I shuffle to work and back, barely taking notice of the world around me. One day, breaking the monotony, I looked up from my distracted thoughts of my running plan for the evening (schyeah right) to notice this written in a restaurant window, "Greek Cooking Classes, Enquire Within". The running schedule was benched as I popped my head inside to get the details. Greek restaurant Entelia run the lessons once a month, inviting the public into their kitchen to meet their chefs and pick up a few tips on cooking popular mezze dishes, a very confident endeavour for any restaurant for obvious reasons.

I was joined by three eager classmates on the day - a friend who had practically run across town not to miss it and a mother & daughter duo who were massive fans of Greek cuisine. The pressure was on for our welcoming chef who, very unlike his hero Gordon Ramsay, was a smiley happy chappy in the kitchen. His colleague was busily churning out the lunch orders for the folks in the restaurant, unperturbed by the obstruction four extra bodies were causing him in his little Kouzzina. As the tempting lunch orders passed me by I was getting hungrier and hungrier.

We started off with the classic Moussaka. I thought I knew how to make a Moussaka but I learned that I was kidding myself, I didn't even use egg in the béchamel, good grief! Aswell as this typical Greek dish we covered Tzatziki, Soutzukakia (Meatballs), Spinach Pie & Bekry Meze (a delicious dish of Pork in Tarragon & Brandy, yum). The chef chatted with great passion about the regional variations of the dishes and offered some handy tips on serving to dinner guests. Afterwards our diligence was rewarded with a tasting menu of the dishes we had made, washed down with some yummy greek wine. A steal at only £20 a head and a splendid way to spend a bank holiday. You'll be glad to hear that my Greek cooking has greatly improved and my first proper Moussaka has already caused food envy in the office, SUCCESS! I am a confident creator of Greek fare (maybe not in the company of ACTUAL Greeks mind).

http://www.entelia.co.uk/

Image: Sinéad Millea.

Shaken, Not Stirred

Goldbrick House Cocktail Training/Tasting

I'd been smugly sitting on the 'wagon' for almost two weeks when I decided to go along to a cocktail making class....clever girl. It was held at Goldbrick House in their Champagne & Cocktail Bar. I had visited this bar several times, a little dubious about the high price tags on some of their tipples. I've always been respectful of Mixology as a career but parting with seven of my shiny pounds for a drink seemed a bit frivolous to me. Having spent a couple of hours at a gin themed cocktail class I'm now converted and that's not the gin talking.

The lesson began in the year 1100, leaving me feeling a little edgy at having to stand for 911 years. It went through the ages swiftly, pausing for a few concoctions along the way. The first stop on the cocktail train was the Tom Collins, a classic drink made originally from Old Tom Gin. I'd heard of the Tom Collins before and, for no reason whatsoever, associated it with 1970s style parties in lounges decorated with orange and brown colour palettes, it always seemed a bit dated to me. However it was very refreshing and will be a welcome addition to my sunny summer garden drinkies. Tom was followed by a number of other gintastic potions including potent Martinez, a dessert like Ramos Gin Fizz & a rather butch sounding but feminine looking French 75 which is named after the Howitzer 75mm Field Gun, the first non recoiling gun, as it is said that the drink is fizzy but without a kick. A girly drink with a butch name, I like.

The history lesson finished up, terminating at 2009 with the revivals of Old Tom Gin cocktails and we were each invited behind the bar to mix a drink of our choice. Being a fan of sour cocktails I requested something to suit my personality - dry and sour ;) The bartender suggested a Ladies Tea Fix, a blend of Plymouth Gin, the bar's own infusion of elderflower and Lady Grey Tea, bitters, fresh mint & egg white over crushed ice and garnished with a sprig of mint, ooh la la. I was given the important job of shaking, boy is that a tough job if you're doing it for each and every punter in the gaff. Separating the glass from the shaker was another bloomin' struggle. I need to up the Body Pump classes, even the teeny giggly girl in the corner was able to give it a fair whack. I fear I may be muscularly challenged (yes, it's an affliction, look it up!).

The cocktail bar at Goldbrick has soared up in my estimation. The bar staff sure know their stuff and the prep that goes into their menu is pretty impressive. While we were learning about William of Orange's blockade of French & Spanish imports our learned tutor's colleague was busily infusing ingredients - the aforementioned Lady Grey & Elderflower mix and a Tasmanian Letherwood Honey & Camomile Syrup. Needless to say I lowered myself from the 'wagon' temporarily to enjoy my tea fix. Tea is good for you, it's got antioxidants. Guilt dissolved.

http://www.goldbrickhouse.co.uk/events-and-offers/large-group-cocktail-training-tasting

Snap Happy

Second Look Photo Marathon

For several years I had quite a serious relationship with photography. We laughed, we cried, but the magic disappeared. We drifted further apart until the inevitable happened. You know how it is, now and then we'd bump into eachother and have an awkward conversation about the old days. Recently I entered the Second Look Photo Marathon and had a brief fling with my old flame. I was to be tooled up with a disposable camera (oh the nostalgia) and a list of themes. The challenge was to take a picture inspired by each theme, in the order on the list (therein lied an even deeper challenge). For one day, I was to become a photographer again, except this time without the crippling pressure of trying to carve a career out of my visual musings.

I turned up at 11am on a Saturday to collect my 'kit', still hideously suffering the consequences from the night before which, aptly, took me back to my Uni days! The themes were vague at first glance. Number two was simply "Stop", I took a picture of a park bench. In my delicate state that's what it was saying to me, "Stop, sit here a while, rest your weary frame". There were ten themes in total, taking me on a walking tour of the city. It could have been quite pleasurable if it weren’t for the increasing hangover and cold weather combo. However, I endeavoured to commit to my old friend. I finished up with number ten, "All Smiles", with an image of those smiley emoticon thingies on my phone, creative eh? Yeah, would have been if it weren’t so out of focus and cropped out of recognition…blasted disposable camera. Ah well, s’pose it was rather fitting. These snaps were merely visual snippets of my bleary, cold, hungover consciousness on that day.

The whole project reminded me of Henri Cartier-Bresson’s coined phrase, 'the

decisive moment'. Now a phrase used widely in Street Photography, it refers to single moments captured and frozen by a fateful observer in a particular frame of mind, never to happen again. It was all so nostalgic and familiar, it was fun to get snapping to a brief again. The images were exhibited on Park Street for a weekend. With a sense of artistic importance I donned my trenchcoat and dark glasses and prepared for the crowds awaiting my appearance at the Grand Opening. My ego came down to earth with a humble thud - out of 10 shots, 5 were out of focus. I don’t think The Photographer’s Gallery will be in a hurry to track me down although I’m still holding out for The Tate Modern…

http://www.secondlook.org.uk/
Images: Sinéad Millea.

Food, Glorious Food!

The Montpelier Basement

Happy New Year! Yes I know I'm late but I have decided not to acknowledge January this year due to wisdom tooth related trauma. Handily, going straight to February makes it easier for me to begin Sinead Nua 2011 with a FEAST! January is too riddled with Post Christmas Bloat for the experience to be comfortable. Having been on the mailing list for the Montpelier Basement for 3 months I managed to bag a coveted spot for their Anti Valentines meal. To my relief, there wasn't a musical card in earshot.

Elly and Dan host these underground dinner parties at their basement flat in Montpelier. Elly owns a cafe in the area and Dan is a food blogger. They both seemed very calm, collected and on top of the 7 courses (plus 2 veggie options) they were preparing on their humble domestic cooker. Once some 17 guests had settled, conversation started flowing along with the BYO wine. I was at a creative table comprising of a dressmaker, a magazine editor & a freelance photographer. The general atmosphere in the room was that of an intimate dinner party but the food that came out of that little kitchen was of the standard you'd expect at a pretty darn good restaurant. It made me suspect they were hiding a secret room full of massive flaming hobs and commis chefs. All the ingredients were locally sourced, including a delicately tender Old Spot pork belly & a rarebit made from Bristol Beer Factory Stout. Despite the room being full of strangers the evening trickled along with ease, dish after dish arrived effortlessly and the conversation continued to flow.

After the final course our accomplished hosts popped from table to table to chat with the guests. Astoundingly, I learned that the dishes served on their 'Basement' evenings are usually tried and tested on the night with the exception of their house speciality, Gorwydd Caerphilly and Bristol Beer Factory Milk Stout Rarebit. Brave? Nope, these people KNOW how to cook and this was evident in each course. The flow of each dish after the other suggested a well planned dining experience. A palette cleansing boozy ice between the pork belly and the Baked Egg Custard Tart hit the spot, why keep the boozy course til last? It seems they're passionate enough about their craft and their venture that as soon as invites circulate the mailing list, they are confined to their computer for an evening just to answer the eager booking requests. These people must LOVE to cook!

Just before I left I was grilled (geddit?) by Dan with the most trying of questions - which was my favourite course. How could I answer that?! Cruel. At the risk of appearing too diplomatic, I choose all of the above.

http://supperclubfangroup.ning.com/profile/TheMontpelierBasement
Image courtesy of The Montpelier Basement.