If you haven't done so already, I suggest you pick yourself up a copy of the April/May edition of London Drinker magazine.
There's lots of good stuff in there with the latest news on the London (and wider) pub scene, and I've written a piece about cask Altbier in Dusseldorf and an emotional farewell to the gone-but-not-forgotten Brew Wharf.
Oh, and there's an advert that really fucking wound me up something rotten.
I know. I know I should probably be thinking about the victims of the earthquake in Nepal or the grieving relatives of Keith Harris, but it's always the little annoyances that get to me. Partly because I know most people aren't going to be bothered about it.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Friday, April 17, 2015
Bodeans, Bodeans, Bodeans, Bodeans, I'm begging of you please do cook me meat!
I wrote the other day about Masterchef contestants not getting much of an opportunity to slow-cook, and it got me thinking:
What would John and Greg make of Bodeans? A place that smokes and slow-braises meat over many, many hours, if not days. If not years.
'You've got one hour and 15 minutes?' I suspect not, somehow.
What would John and Greg make of Bodeans? A place that smokes and slow-braises meat over many, many hours, if not days. If not years.
'You've got one hour and 15 minutes?' I suspect not, somehow.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
MasterChef - give us time, give us beer!
I'm always impressed with the quality of the contestants on MasterChef, and in this latest series the standard seems particularly high. Indeed it's high enough to scare me into not applying for the show myself!
(Particularly the ballsy Lancastrian lass who is my tip to beat the moustachioed twatster in the final!)
What I'm less impressed by is how formulaic the programme has become, with contestants slave to the straitjacket of rigid format as they wield their spatulas of conformity. (And, if anybody asks, I'll probably use that rather florid excuse for not entering rather than admitting my shitting fear!)
My biggest gripes can be summed up thusly. Firstly, the samesome timescales:
Pretty much every challenge involves having an hour (or, quite often, an hour and 15 minutes) to cook something, which rules out any slow-cooked dishes and indeed discriminates against chefs whose speciality happens to be slow-cooking.
(Yes, I'd probably include myself in that category.)
My other complaint, which may well be a by-product of the first, is that there is nowhere near enough cooking with beer on the show.
And we could all use some additional beer, right?!?
(Particularly the ballsy Lancastrian lass who is my tip to beat the moustachioed twatster in the final!)
What I'm less impressed by is how formulaic the programme has become, with contestants slave to the straitjacket of rigid format as they wield their spatulas of conformity. (And, if anybody asks, I'll probably use that rather florid excuse for not entering rather than admitting my shitting fear!)
 |
| Too busy drinking beer to go on MasterChef |
Pretty much every challenge involves having an hour (or, quite often, an hour and 15 minutes) to cook something, which rules out any slow-cooked dishes and indeed discriminates against chefs whose speciality happens to be slow-cooking.
(Yes, I'd probably include myself in that category.)
My other complaint, which may well be a by-product of the first, is that there is nowhere near enough cooking with beer on the show.
And we could all use some additional beer, right?!?
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