Giles Wemmbley Hogg (Two Ms, Two Gs) is alive!

and has spent his time backpacking in South East Asia Africa and thinking about cooking, judging from this Comment is Free post:

Backpacking is all about adventure and new experiences: doing things you wouldn’t normally do, trying things you wouldn’t normally try, and taking chances. On my first trip, I wasn’t quite so daring when it came to food. I was surrounded by delicious, fresh local produce, but I ate mainly from a tin. Why would anyone, myself included, choose to scrape overcooked baked beans from the bottom of a pan instead of rustling up something fresh?

My epiphany came on Tiwi Beach in Kenya. I was smearing peanut butter on a piece of bread, as I did every lunchtime, when a local fish-seller came by, pushing his bicycle through the sand. In his bike basket, peeping out from under big green banana leaves, were fresh prawns, caught that morning. I remember looking at them wistfully, trying my hardest, but failing, to remember a recipe. Someone bought a bagful. I went over to him and asked, “what are you going to do with them?” “Eat them of course,” he replied, looking at me like I was a bit deranged. “But what recipe are you going to use?” I said. Then he told me something that would change the way I cooked forever: “There is no recipe, I’m just going to cook it.”

I should add at this point that the guy in question was French, so this came out as, “Zere is no resipee, ahm juss going t’couk eet”. I don’t want to get melodramatic, but it was a big moment for me. He’d uttered what I took to be a sacred truth – and the French accent made it even more hallowed. No recipe? My world was crashing down. What about scales and measuring jugs? How are you supposed to know when things are ready?

Getting Fired Up Now…

I love barbecue and it looks like it’s going to be another cracking hot weekend – we’re all stocked up on charcoal briquettes, firelighters and tinfoil in drooling anticipation. If there’s something I really miss about Georgia it’s the roadside barbecues. there’s nothing quite like a bbq pork sandwich with slaw, a corncob with butter, an RC Cola and a fresh peach on a scorching hot, humid day. Perfection.

Living as we do in a crowded city with a tiny back garden, I can’t possibly hope to replicate that, but I do my best with a tiny kettle grill. What I’m yearning for is one of these, from Neatorama’s Top 10 BBQ Grills:

Kamado’s Ceramic Barbecue Grill is probably the most artistic and beautiful BBQ grill we’ve ever seen (and yes, it’s from California).

The hand-made Kamado grill was invented by Richard Johnson, an American pilot who came across a ceramic rice cooker in Japan in the 1960s. He claimed that this method of cooking makes for better flavors of smoked, broiled or baked food.

Today, you can order a Kamado grill in various tile colors (so it’ll match your decor, of course!), using various fuels such as wood, charcoal, gas, or electricity.

Link

Oooh, want. Our garden’s too tiny for a sculpture so a sculptural BBQ would be just the thing, and it’s very pretty. I dread to enquire about the price though, that does not look cheap.

Despite limited facilities and lack of access to decent cuts of barbecue meat I do my best, and I do make my own sauce, not bottled. Bottled sauce is full of flavourings and preservatives, and besides, here in NL you’re just paying a premium for US ‘authenticity’. I refuse to pay 5 euro for something I can make myself with just a small abergine…

I don’t know why everyone doesn’t make their own, it’s just a case of dollops of this and that till it tastes right. My base recipe is:

Read More

Put Down What You’re Eating Before Reading This

I can see being tempted, but I cannot imagine actually doing this:

Wife put excrement in man’s curry

A disgruntled wife has admitted feeding her husband a curry containing dog excrement after their relationship broke down.

Jill Martin, 47, pleaded guilty at Paisley Sheriff Court to culpable and reckless conduct against former husband Donald Martin.

During the hearing, defence solicitor Terry Gallanagh likened the case to “an episode of Desperate Housewives”.

Sheriff G.W.Sinclair deferred sentence on Martin until 1 November.

Depute Fiscal Margaret Dunnipace told the court that on 13 March, after placing the dinner in front of her husband Donald and watching him start to eat it, Martin had burst out laughing.

At that time, she believed he had started an affair although those fears turned out to be unfounded

At first she claimed she had laced the dish with arsenic but then confessed she had added dog excrement instead.

The court heard that the couple had been married for 21 years but in recent years their relationship “had hit an all time low”.

More..

An all-time low? I should say so.

Behind The Meat Curtains

Wingnut blogger and favourite target of those Sadly Nosian scamps, Ace O’ Spades, is the cause of much current hilarity at liberal US blogs for his take on a lame satrical newpaper article on how to tell if your husband is secretly gay.

Considering this is a man who describes the female pudenda as having been designed by HR Geiger using play-doh and bacon, he’s got off fairly lightly.

Ace’s form of anatomical ignorance is admittedly creative, but bacon? Really? Everybody knows that the female genitals resemble nothing so much as a corned beef explosion. His description doiesn’t even have the sheer poetic chops of ‘meat pocket’. Now this might lead one to think that Ace might not be entirely familiar with female bodily geography and might even find it somewhat scary… That’s fine, but he insists HE IS NOT TEH GAY.

But of course not. Just because of a total fear of scary vaginas with teeth? Why ever would one think that he might be TEH GAY?

Indeed, far from being so, the undoubtedly studly Mr Ace has all sorts of problems with those pesky, pesky chicks, as he makes sure to tell us:

… are you one of those One Week Wonder sort of chicks who will lure me in with lots of sex when we start dating and then lose virtually all initiative and enthusiasm by day eight?

Hmm. You know that just might have something to do with his misperception of the human vulva as a bacon and playdoh sandwich with teeth. I’ve not yet known a woman who actually wants her pussy covered in HP sauce, made into a child’s clay teapot or given a dental checkup. Though there’s still time..

And his girlfriends only lost interest by day eight? And the rest. Try day one, hour one – minute one, even. That I can believe.

The protestations of complete and utter non-gayness, on the other hand, I find slightly less plausible, given that he can’t even tell his corned beef curtains from his pork sword.

[Meat curtains and other meaty items here.]

Where’s All The Lieveheersbeestjes* Gone?

  • Tends to be rounder in shape than most native UK species
  • Can reach up to 8mm in size, a little larger than common ladybirds
  • It has a white plate just behind the head with a big, black M-shaped marking on it
  • Sighted bugs can be red, orange or black with between 15 and 20 spots
    Others may be black with between two to four orange or red spots

I was at a bit of a loss as to what to write about today. Tsk. All the internets at my command, and I got nuthin’. It’s not just me: there seems to be a bit of a hiatus in the blog world generally at the moment, a collective holding of breath.

Are we waiting for the next big media outrage, or is there really no news? well, hardly – there’s Iraq, of course (we’ll always have Iraq), there’s the US attorneys diversionary scandal, there’s constitutional shenanigans, deliberate leaks re terrorism arrests, and yet more government IT incompetence at home in the UK – and then there’s the US pushing illegal war again, this time in the Horn of Africa. Oh yes, and let’s not forget that dreamboat Wolfowitz. There’s no shortage of material to provoke online outrage. So why am I writing about ladybirds?

For the past two weeks it’s been gloriously sunny and in the twenties every day: everything is in bloom, the birds are singing en masse, summer finery has broken out in the streets and there’s been a run on fake tanning lotion and Birkenstocks. Really, all I want to do is sit outside in the sun with a Margery Allingham and bask until my freckles join up enough to give the semblance of a suntan, occasionally getting up to attack the garden with a spray of soapy water. Because in every idyll there’s a hidden flaw, and for me it’s the greenfly that have infested the damson tree outside and not only because they eat my new, little, tender plants.

We’re having a full-on greenfly infestation – the trunk of the damson tree looks like a five-lane arthropod highway, with aphids streaming en masse down the trunk – and there seem to be no predators about to eat them. My back garden and everything in it is being subjected to a fine rain of sticky honeydew from the uneaten greenfly and when you go out there, you can feel your feet stick to the flagstones. They fall in your hair and on the laundry, leaving green smears where you flick them away. Eww.

Normally a glut of greenfly like this would attract their chief predator, ladybirds. Last year we had a similar infestation, that time of ladybird larvae – the ugly little yellow spiky buggers were falling everywhere, in the cats’ food, on the laundry, and in my tea if I sat outside – but this year, not one’s to be seen. No ants either, although we have or had at least two ant nests in the garden. I can only infer that the current glut of greenfly is due to the absence of natural predators.

So where the hell are they?

The absence of bees has already been remarked in Europe; apart from a couple of queens I saw at the end of January, the only ones I’ve seen were two dying bees that wandered into the house accidentally a month ago. This despite a mass of blossom and spring flowers that should be humming with them. But it seems it’s not just bees; missing ladybirds are a Europe-wide problem too. The Independent has one possible explanation for their disappearance:

British ladybirds face rapid extinction after invasion by an Asian interloper By Jonathan Brown and Michael McCarthy
Published: 27 December 2005

They have a special place in the hearts of children. They’re beloved by gardeners as natural pest controllers. But say goodbye to Britain’s ladybirds, many of which are now facing extinction within a few short years.

In what is probably the worst case of havoc caused by an invasive species the UK has ever seen, a whole group of British ladybird species is likely to be wiped in short order out by an aggressive foreign interloper, which will also become a major pest.

Harmonia axyridis, the harlequin ladybird from Asia, was first detected in Britain in September last year and known to be a threat to familiar species of our own such as the two-spot and the seven-spot ladybirds, by outcompeting them for the aphids on which they feed – and also by eating them directly.

But scientists have recently realised it is having an effect more quickly than anticipated. Those shiny bright red beetles with their black spots, which generations of children have delighted in, and which gardeners have so long relied on to deal with the aphids (greenfly) eating their roses, will soon be a thing of the past.

Britain’s leading ladybird expert, Michael Majerus from Cambridge University, says the harlequin, which has come into Britain from continental Europe, either in flower or vegetable imports, or by flying in directly, poses a dire threat to half of Britain’s 46 species. He thinks most of the country will be overrun by 2008, and native species will start to disappear immediately.

Although other non-native species have caused severe problems with British wildlife – for example, the grey squirrel from North America has driven out the native red squirrel – Britain has not so far seen a foreign invader destroy a whole suite of other species, as the harlequin is now likely to do.

“In ecological terms, this is a disaster,” Dr Majerus said. “I don’t know of a worse one.”

[..]

They were also introduced into Belgium and by 2000 had become a danger in the Netherlands too. And we clever humans, masters of nature, did it. Doesn’t it make you proud?

You know, I could spend all day taking cynical snarky potshots at the walking human disasters we’ve been afflicted with over the past ten years or so, it’s just so easy to do. How can you not, when you have the likes of Laura Bush, bleating through her valium haze that ‘no-one has suffered as much’ over Iraq as she and her husband have?

But while we snark away, lots of small ecological disasters accumulate.

A plague of aphids is irritating and the disappearance of ladybirds, ants and bees is an annoyance in a tiny, manicured city garden like ours; but this isn’t just about the inconvenience to vanity gardeners like me. This disappearance of common native species is about the way tiny changes instigated by well-meaning humans can have a disastrous effect on whole ecological systems. Add global warming to this human meddling and it starts to affect major food crops.

Greenfly: less an irritation, more a pending humanitarian crisis.

[*Lieveheersbeestje: the Dutch word for ladybird/ladybug: it means ‘the dear lord’s little creature’. Awww. There’s much more about ladbybirds and the wildlife of Dutch/Belgian gardens from Michel Vuijlsteke, here]