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.

Swimmin' With Da Fishes (well, not exactly)

South Bristol Divers Club

Some things just happen out of the blue (apologies for pun) and my trial dive was one of these things. I signed up as a member of the Bristol Active Social Club and, within a week, an e-mail landed in my inbox inviting members to try diving. I swim regularly but do it in a 1920s lady fashion (head above water with craned neck). It's not as graceful as it sounds, I look more like a drowning seal. So, needless to say, swimming under water would be a new experience for me. The trial dive was offered for the paltry fee of £10 by the South Bristol Divers Club. The Club have sole use of Bristol South Swimming Pool in Bedminster on Tuesday evenings and it's here that they practise, train and offer complete newbies taster sessions.

I arrived to meet a couple, Karen and Ian, who have been divers for 30 years and no doubt have a story or two to share. Ian was my trainer for the evening and after a detailed description of how the next 30 minutes would pan out, and the assurance that I would not be forced to drop myself backwards off the deep end, we got ourselves prepped for submersion. This involved, firstly, attaching an air canister to a divers jacket. The jacket itself looked, to me, like an airplane cockpit with all the knobs and pulleys (for inflation and deflation) but I got the hang of it eventually. Then, the lot was strapped to my back after a counter weight being tied around my waist to avoid toppling over and causing panic to the synchronised swimmers who were finishing their session at the deep end. I was provided with some goggles which I was encouraged to spit into to clean...my Nana would have been appalled. Then I was shown how to use the air tube thingy, a very important piece of kit for those who are not direct descendants of The Little Mermaid.

I found myself kneeling on the floor of the pool, breathing through a tube, watching the swimmers glide through the water and I felt very relaxed indeed. However the breathing apparatus took a bit of getting used to. In fairness, all you do is inhale and exhale but, in the context of the situation, I was thrown. I kept inhaling until my lungs were full and forgot to let any air out. When I did exhale I was surrounded by bubbles of my own air...pretty cool. My confidence grew quicker than I expected, by the end of the session I was kitted out in flippers and swimming up and down the pool. It turned out to be quite an uplifting evening despite my pre-dive nerves. The fact that it involved no actual diving was a relief.

The session was finished off with a well deserved half at the local pub where the club regularly meet. Having regulated my breathing to normal mode, I got chatting to Jas, who had sent the original mail through Bristol Active, and he introduced me to their various members. Steve was introduced to me as a "Paddy". I thought, "Ah, one of my own" but just before I asked him where in Ireland he's from Jas went onto explain that PADI is a diver training organization to which some of their members are associated. Good save. Aswell as earning qualification (BSAC membership), the club members organise trips abroad to dive proper like and see fish and all that palaver. I can imagine that would be awesome but baby steps for me, I have yet to master breathing through a tube.

http://www.southbristoldivers.co.uk
http://www.bristolactive.org.uk/
Image: southbristoldivers.co.uk

Lions Eat Turkey

LDB Thanksgiving Dinner

This month, rather than challenging myself, I've been training my stomach for December 25th. It's a very important part of the Christmas countdown to avoid trouser buttons popping off at a result of sudden bingeing. Roughly 17% of casualties admitted to A&E on Christmas Day are grannies with flying button related injuries*. I say train the belly with mini binges from now until the big day. The Americans have the right idea by eating anything that will accompany roast turkey in the last week of November. It is part of a very clever public holiday which they've called Thanksgiving - a name given by grannies who have escape aforementioned injuries on Christmas day**.

I am on the mailing list for Lions Drink Bellinis, a fab social group offering "fun, social and affordable nights out in Bristol". When the invite for Thanksgiving dinner came through I snapped it up, especially considering it was being headed up by the two American members of the group. In lieu of buying a ticket, guests were asked to bring along a dish of their choice. I opted for Pumpkin Pie. However having never tasted, let alone baked, one I was to have no idea how successful my attempt would be until the night, bit risky eh? Plus I was told the day before that one of the American lads was also making one. Oh the pressure...

Thanksgiving is traditionally a family oriented holiday, food is cooked & enjoyed at home with family. So, in true American style, we were 30 people sat around a long table at the Rainbow Café Restaurant in Clifton, conversation bubbling and the aroma of roast turkey wafting it's way through the hungry crowd. Further down there was a buffet of turkey, ham, macaroni cheese (yes, that's what i said!), mashed potatoes, roasted veggies, red cabbage and home made gravy. Although each person brought just one dish each there was enough food there to feed a small army. And I haven't even listed the desserts yet. Along with my pumpkin pie was pecan pie, apple pie and chocolate chip cookies. Hello there food coma!

In addition to learning about quirky American eating habits I met some great people. Amongst the guests were a couple who enthralled me with their passion for travel & a group of ladies offering up their single male friends to eachother in a bartering style, that's my kind of currency!

The BBC Food Pumpkin pie recipe I followed did me proud (see pic). Now I have a few additions to the Christmas feast this year - mac cheese and pumpkin pie (not together of course...although ya never know with these American fellas...)

Some other events run by this fabulous group include cider tasting, steak nights, wine & cheese workshops & fondue evenings - as you can probably tell a lot of these are centered around food and drink, fab fab fab.

* This isn't an actual fact but I wouldn't be surprised if it were true.
** This isn't true either.

http://www.lionsdrinkbellinis.com
Image: Jo Guy

Around The World In 11 Dances

Bristol Zumba

After what seems like an age, Sinead Nua has returned from holiday. A week in France resulted in an extra half stone around midriff – eek! Instantly, that Zumba class I wanted to try out was promoted to top of ‘To Do’ list.

For anyone who doesn’t already know, Zumba is a Latin inspired dance fitness class incorporating Salsa, Merengue, Reggaeton, Cumbia, Calypso, Hip Hop to name just a few dance styles (I hadn’t heard of half of these before).
I went to Redland High School to the class run by Jo Soteriou. On arrival I realised just how much Zumba has taken the world by storm…or Redland at least. There were over 30 people in the class, all ages and abilities from the teeny tiny fluent salsa-ites to the completely uncoordinated and giggly newbies. I fell into the latter category, not that it mattered. Nobody cared that I almost tripped myself up with my own feet or that I was devoid of rhythm.

Within the hour-long session, we covered 11 fun frenetic sequences finished off by a cool down dance (never would have thought this would work but it was the perfect end to a boogie filled hour). So, as I said, I fitted comfortably into the uncoordinated category of participants. I confidently flailed my arms around and jumped to the beat like a crazy person. The only bits where I remotely had any rhythm were the on the spot jogging bits. Then I felt like a true pro…until the arm swooping, leg-kicking African moves set in again. Although the 90s rave lesson I got from a friend in a nightclub some time ago came in very handy, I got my chance to shine there. My favourite part was the re-enactment of the Pussycat Dolls’ Jai Ho video. In my head it was EXACTLY the same and I was rather hoping I would be discovered by a scout and featured in their next music video. A far cry from reality if I’m to be honest. It was like Jai Ho in sweats, limbs thrashing about as if independent from body…not what a scout gets up for in the morning unfortunately. There’s always next week.

Overall, Zumba was a reet laugh (gone all Northern again, must look into past life). It was exercise disguised as fun. Now, that’s what I’m talking about, that half stone will never know what hit it!

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

Just Hanging Around

The Bristol Climbing Centre

Drumroll please. So this is it, my first big challenge. First, let me get you in the picture. I am TERRIFIED of heights, even stepladders bring me out in a cold sweat. Recently my mother unveiled a collection of memories she had stored away in the attic and, thanks to my brother’s handiwork, now has an attic stairs to access it. I was of course excited to see what treasures my 22 year old self had left behind for me. One snag however, the stairs seemed more like a ladder on a hinge and to a coward like me it was a challenge to get on it. Going up wasn’t too bad, probably because of the excitement of what was in those dusty boxes. Coming down was the difficult bit, the world looks so far down from the top of a ladder. It’s ludicrous to be so afraid of such a thing. So when I decided to challenge myself more there was only one thing I could think of - climbing.

Since moving to Bristol I’ve met more people who climb than anything else. It seems to be a really popular pastime, one that I never thought I would be a part of. That sense of exclusion made me feel that my fear of heights was holding me back. Surely it’s not that difficult, the website has a child on it for crying out loud. So I went guns blazing along to the climbing centre in St. Werburghs. Fearing I might crumble and turn back I barely stopped for traffic, I was like a crazed loon on a mission.

I arrived and was given a harness and a helmet...”Oh dear, so I’m really doing this then”, I thought. I was teamed up with two other novices and we took turns in scaling the wall. I assumed that everyone would be as cagey as me on this taster session. How wrong I was. The other two were up and down faster than I could say ‘nausea’ and suddenly it was my turn. Not wanting to appear a wimp (and faster than my brain could calculate what was coming next) I got on that bugger and climbed. I got to halfway and looked down. Eek! It was dizzying and on my first attempt I argued that I had come far enough and wimpered to come back down. While the instructor saw to a more daring climber on his descent I had to wait...just wait. Thinking “Flippin' ‘ell how long do I have to dangle here?”, I clung to the wall until my fingers stiffened. Fearing that I may hurl I closed my eyes and thought of England. It seemed like an eternity before the instructor gave me the go ahead to safely come back down. “Wait a minute, you want me to WHAT?”, I shrieked. He had instructed me to LET GO OF THE WALL. I questioned his sanity for a moment and wondered what I had done to deserve to die, right here in St Werburghs. Claiming back a scrap of rationality, I gave in and let go of the wall. In comparison to scaling up, abseiling down was a breeze. I didn’t expect to enjoy that part, what a relief. Job done....almost.

The next wall was a tad more difficult and I’m sure you can sense the pattern emerging here. Each climb was more of a challenge than the last. The bits jutting out from the wall (that you cling to for dear life) got a little harder to negotiate, thus the skill developed when embarking on climbing as a pastime. The instructor described it as a giant puzzle. I had no idea it was a mental workout aswell as a physical one, yet another reason to do it. However, the one reason against was still trumping the many for.

Five minutes to the end of the session, I thought, “nice one, nearly there” but I wasn’t. I had not yet completed a full wall. I decided it was time to strap on a pair (so to speak). I scaled the wall and got to about three quarters of the way when a voice from below provided guidance. I responded “Is that you God?" No, it was the instructor. Good, don’t really fancy a visit from Himself while I’m hanging off a wall. Step by step he guided me up until I touched the ceiling. I never expected to get to the top but here I was looking down on the tops of everyone’s hard hats. That familiar dizzying sensation washed over me so I closed my eyes and abseiled down to terra firma, this time with an amazing feeling of accomplishment. Okay so I’m still a coward when it comes to heights but at least I know I can do it if I really try...I’m even considering a course.

http://www.undercover-rock.com/
Image courtesy of Undercover Rock.