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Jerusalem 1
After a desperately early start (0245 wake-up time) I left Heathrow on Thursday morning, landed at Zurich, and took off again — so that after a few hours, this…
gave way to this, and we landed at Ben Gurion Airport, Tel Aviv.
I caught a shuttle bus driven by an authentically wild Israeli driver who carried a dozen or so of us at a lively pace towards Jerusalem, and who during a hectic hour while he was busy doing his filing, shouting into his mobile and writing on bits of paper – sometimes simultaneously – had undertaken the further responsibility of encouraging all the other drivers with toots from his horn, and periodically swung swiftly around them while they paused at corners and stop signs to show them how it was done.
Fortunately when I was dropped in my turn, Susan and Bailey the dog were waving a welcome from the balcony and I was ushered inside a large airy flat. After feeding and watering I was ushered out again to try to find our friend and driver who was stuck in traffic around the corner. The reason he was stuck was apparently due to a “suspicious object” at a nearby bus stop. A child soldier with a machine gun held us back while it was being sorted out, and soon enough we were on our way. I had a fabulous tour of the city by night,
and a pause on the Mount of Olives (Robert Maxwell’s in there somewhere, apparently)
before driving down past Gethsemene and its splendid churches. Susan volunteered the interesting fact that “Gethsemene” actually means olive press.
Friday, she said, was an excellent day to visit The Shuk (market), as everyone is rushing around doing their shopping before everything – shops, transportation, the works – shuts down for the sabbath that starts at dusk.
And it was busy indeed. Everything you could need.. bread, tomatoes..
tea…
nuts, fish…
pastries…
enormous pomegranates..
many mushrooms…
squashes twice the size of a man’s head…
nuts, spices, honey…
and a few musicians.
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Going, Going…. Here!! Leah’s Lovely Launch
Wednesday night was a long-awaited moment for the amazing Leah Fritz and her many friends and fans, when she launched her first collection for 8 years. Going, Going saw its debut in the company of loyal followers at the Barbican‘s very smart library
(we are a public library so come and use it! said librarian John Lake during his introduction). Fighting my way past the paparazzi,
…I enjoyed a glass of wine and a few crisps with a passel of poets (including at least one with a forthcoming collection!) before taking my place in a comfortably full reading space.
The publisher was there selling copies of this beautiful hardcover,
and after a reading by Allan Brownjohn and one by Leah herself,
there were books to be signed and wine to be drunk. As for me, I had an early morning date with destiny, or at least a mini-cab, so I slunk off right away so I could catch my 39 winks.
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Orford Ness & Game for Everything
Always an auspicious sign, the snail.
This one was living free on Orford Ness, in Suffolk, a blasted landscape in many senses, being a former military testing site and now a valuable nature preserve. A group of poets made a visit there on the weekend in search of inspiration.
It’s made up of 10 miles of seaward-exposed shingle, which we were told comprises 15% of the world’s habitat for coastal vegetative shingle (another 15% is at Dungeness). There are many signs pointing to its military past…
The National Trust man who showed us round told us the bomb disposal squad is still called out to deal with unexploded bombs some 15 to 20 times a year.
After our walk we returned to little Blaxhall
for some tea, and then made our way back to Orford for supper at the Butley Oysterage, where I dined handsomely on griddled squid
and grilled Dover Sole. A poetry workshop followed, accompanied by a very fine smoked salmon terrine with potatoes and leeks, and some of Orford’s best smoked chicken.
Then before I could turn around it was Tuesday, and time to join some of London’s Slow Foodies for a night of wild food from Mark Gilchrist, who shoots, butchers, dresses and cooks all his own game.
He started us off with a plate of assorted duck appetisers: Teal liver pate; Pintail confit; air-dried Pintail; salted, cured and smoked Widgeon, served with fresh brioche and kumquat jam.
Then a pan-fried fillet of Roe deer…
And then he put on his butcher’s coat and demonstrated how to skin and joint a hare, and told us how to make a ragout of hare like the one he was about to serve on freshly-made tagliatelli.
The ultimate dish was Conference pear tarte tatin…
which, containing molten caramel, must be turned onto its pastry base with care…
And of course it must be served with a drop of cream.
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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.
