Blood Eagle Colours are Just so You Mr Hilfiger
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Diary and Notes
Fashion, it's either your love and your life; a guide through the complex changing maelstrom in which we all are tossed or a dirty word which hides any amount of scam, sham and flim-flam. I tend to side with the latter myself and have no love for anything which purports to be better because of a designer label, has art books written about its impact on modern culture by people who studied fashion at technical college for three weeks and think that they are the font of all wisdom or was worn by a seventeen foot tall plastic woman who weighs less than a carrot and eats half the amount necessary to sustain a healthy gerbil (a 'supermodel' in modern terminology - but I'd like to see one save a baby from a burning building or stop a speeding train).
But it's not just in the realm of clothes and trainers in which we are hoodwinked by half wits and vacuous morons. Every facet of life has a range of elite products and trendy things which seek to drain the cash from our wallets and the soul from our hearts. Every group of people will have been targeted and marketed to, studied by demographers and manipulated. Single mothers in temporary accommodation will suddenly forget about dreaming of Prada handbags and start thinking 'ooh, that new Bébécar moon cot looks just wonderful, and it's only £715 - I think if I economised on the baby formula for a week or two I could afford that." And the dream of a happiness through consumerism continues, though the poor woman can't afford the cot and just has to go on dreaming of what it would be like to live in the world of the Hollywood super-rich.
Cooking is the same. I have friends who (unknowingly) are seduced by expensive gimmicks. "Is that a Sabatier?" they ask, as I deftly slice through a carrot (no I bought it in Tesco for £5.00) and "That's a nice dish, is it a Le Creuset?" (No it was from Woolworths and cost £5.00 also).
Well, I have come up with the solution and it's not my normal one of threatening to punch people in the balls - this is much more fun - the Blood Eagle.
"Einar had his ribs cut from the spine with a sword and the lungs pulled out through the slits in his back. He dedicated the victim to Odin as a victory offering." - From the Orkneyinga Saga.
This is how my ancestors would have dealt with someone trying to tell them that the beer they were drinking was 'Soo last year and everyone is drinking Spanish cerveza with a twist of lime, now.' Or that their helmets would have looked better with some horns attached (a myth developed by the Victorians - the Vikings never had horns on their helmets - horns were for drinking out of.)
The blood eagle is the solution to anyone who writes for Vogue/Cosmopolitan/FHM/GQ or works for Fendi/Dolce & Gabbana/DKNY/Bottega Vanetta etc. As the above snippet describes it involves stringing a live victim up and removing his lungs from out of his back and stretching them out like wings. The person will stay alive for a few minutes and the lungs will inflate and deflate for a while and look like they are flapping - dripping blood all the time of course - my favourite shade of red.
You may think I am being a little excessive but it would only take six or seven of these people strung up on Oxford Street and Wilshire Boulevard to get the message out - and we would have to make them wear brown stay pressed elasticated slacks and slippers while it's happening - we don't want people saying "Oh didn't Valentino Garavani look just delightful in those snakeskin boots and leather trousers as he slowly bled to death above Avenue Montaigne."
Libyan food today: I predict it will be all the rage soon and am getting into the fashion early. Bareek can be stuffed with spinach and cheese (like spanokopita), potato or meat. They are either square or triangle (mine wasn't either but I am not that good at such technical details) and you can find this sort of thing all over the Med region. I had some tabbouleh as well, a simple but delicious dinner which everyone in New York will be talking about in the coming season.
Gü: These used to be bigger and come in little glass ramekins - now they are small and come in little plastic pots. Still excellent - just a blob of very chocolaty ganache, but there's never enough.
250g Minced Lamb
Drop Olive Oil For Frying
1 Clove Garlic
2 Green Chillis
1/2 tsp Cinnamon
Salt & Pepper
100g Bread Flour
2 Tbsp Olive Oil
1/2 tsp Baking Powder
1 tsp Dried Yeast
75g Bulgar Wheat
1/2 Red Pepper
3 Spring Onions
1/2 tsp Dried Mint
Tbsp Olive Oil
Few Coriander Leaves
Salt & Pepper
Bareek: Make a dough from the flour, yeast, baking powder, olive oil, pinch of salt and some warm water. Knead well then leave to rise for an hour (similar to a pizza dough, but with a little baking powder added in). Dice the onion and mince the garlic and chillis, sweat in olive oil until soft then add the minced lamb and cinnamon and fry gently until the lamb begins to burn ever so slightly (mixing all the time). When the dough has risen to double volume, roll out quite thin and make pasties/pies with the filling. Bake in a hot oven for 15 minutes.
Tabbouleh: Soak the sultanas and bulgar wheat in boiling water until the wheat is plump and soft - drain. Put the mint in a bowl and pour over the lemon juice and oil - mix well. Stir in the wheat/sultanas and stir. Add the roughly chopped cucumber, pepper, tomato, spring onions. Stir in some chopped coriander leaves, season and chill.
*All quantities are very approximate and for a single person