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In Italia
Don’t have my laptop and so unable to download the squillions of photos I took in Pompeii and Herculaneum last weekend… will have to post these retrospectively when I can. Suffice to say we had a delicious time with perfect weather.
There were three celebrity sightings to round things out: I was seated on the plane next to Bob Geldof (who might not be a foodie, as he ate the horrible BA sandwich and said he thought it was tragic that I had brought my own food on the plane… though whether he meant it was pathetic behaviour on my part or that the tragedy is that the airlines serve such abominations wasn’t clear, so I can choose to believe the latter). Upon disembarking we saw him hook up with star journalist John Simpson. And on Sunday we returned from Herculaneum and Vesuvius in time to see the pope leave town after his all-day visit to Pompeii.
After a day in Rome – main excursion was to see Keats’ house – and two good meals, I left yesterday for an epic train journey. It took about seven and a half hours to get to Turin and I arrived to mild foggy weather. Just about to set off for Terra Madre. More as it unfolds.
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Borough Market
Treated myself to a soothing time at Borough Market today; Thursdays are less fraught than Saturdays, and the weather was fine and the food looking good as ever.
Some Spanish cheeses at Brindisi..
Nice sausages, and plenty of them.
Tis the season of squash.
No visit to Borough Market complete without dropping in at Neal’s Yard:
And it is, again and no doubt about it, mushroom season.
Note the giant puffball slices at the front…
and all manner of others.
Ginger Pig has lovely ham, and bacon, and a few faggots. And lots of sausages.
Fish, looking fresh.
But it was, above all, lunchtime. The man at the fish stall puts together a stew…
The Argentinian empanadas were popular.
Maybe a chocolate to finish?
And now I’m away to Italy, not taking my laptop so postings may be erratic till I catch up with myself. A presto…
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Rambling in London
Have spent a pleasant – if still snivelly – couple of days wandering familiar streets and revisiting what old haunts remain, like my beloved Food For Thought, whose quiche and salad plate has changed little in the 20 years I’ve been eating it – still a good deal and a good meal with no room for the unfailingly tempting desserts. You still queue up on a narrow staircase, take your earthenware plate to the nearest corner of the nearest unfailingly occupied table, grab yourself a glass and drink from the unfailingly replenished jugs of tap water, and sprinkle on a bit of salt and pepper from the bowls in front of you.
No mistaking mushroom season is here. I had a really nice wild mushroom soup the other day at a most unlikely place. The croutons were particularly good (I suspect nice bread that was given a good dredging in tasty olive oil helped them along)
and the bruschetta wasn’t bad either.
Speaking of fungi, some of the more interesting mushrooms on sale at Mortimer’s just now..
The Bath House, although part of the evil empire, (since 1996, the Greene King chain has bought up 2,200 pubs in Britain, taking its total to 2,587 pubs and restaurants across the country; it’s notorious for buying up small breweries and closing them down, reducing the number of traditional beers on the market) has for the moment at least agreed to host Ambit’s poetry readings (as long, goes the dark clause, as we spend enough money to make it worth their while)(Ambit could use a hand too, having become one of the latest casualties of cultural funding cuts – they only need 200 subscribers to break even).
I passed on any “home made coleslaw” or “British beef” they might have on offer in favour of a lotus seed bun from an old familiar Chinese bakery en route.
One of Tony Blair’s London neighbours overstayed his welcome and is going nowhere fast.
A visit to the most lovely and useful of bookshops, Daunt’s on Marylebone High Street.
I saw a most astonishingly fabulous film in a favourite old cinema in Notting Hill.
In other news, there was an update in the Guardian the other day about the debate over GM crops which makes interesting reading. Although how anyone can say they will solve world hunger is beyond me, when they are developed with corporate interests in mind: corporate profits for multinationals inevitably have pretty questionable benefits for everyone else, in the old ‘someone has to win’ equation. That is, such profit-oriented products (in this case, remember, this time it’s food) are marketed in order to create an enduring economic bond with purchasers (farmers) by requiring the annual purchase of seed (an attempt to eliminate the rights of farmers to develop and save seed) and associated technologies (e.g. specialised pesticides and fertilisers) so that they can be grown in some cases (e.g. soya in Brazil) in eco-systems that cannot sustain them, with the profits going to multinationals while the local economy is driven ever lower.
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In her latest collection, Rhona McAdam navigates the dark places of human movement through the earth and the exquisite intricacies lingering in backyard gardens and farmlands populated by insects and pollinators, all the while returning to the body, to the tune of staccato beats and the newly discovered symmetries within the human heart.
“…A beautiful, filling collection, Larder is a set of poems to read at the change of the seasons, to appreciate alongside a good meal, and to remind yourself of the beauty in everything, even the things you may not appreciate before opening McAdam’s collection….”
Rhona McAdam is a writer, poet, editor, and Registered Holistic Nutritionist with a Master’s in Food Culture from Italy and a deep-rooted passion for ecology and urban agriculture. Her work spans corporate and technical writing to poetry and creative nonfiction, often exploring the vital links between what we eat and how we live. Based in Victoria, BC, and available via Zoom, Rhona is always open to new writing commissions, readings, or workshops on nutrition and the culinary arts.





























