Month: April 2020

I started learning Spanish last March. Although I might still only be learning how to say what times of day I eat sandwiches for my lunch and what I did for my birthday last year, I’m seeing more about the way the language moves and forms itself through its own unique culture into phrases. Food is often at the heart of it. The eccentricity in how it problem-solves it’s way around communication makes my brain pop. Everyday phrases are frank with emotion and unburdened by lacy politeness. I couldn’t love it more.

I’ve always been bad at doing my homework. It’s not that I don’t care about the work. I spend a lot of my day thinking about Spanish, and about how fantastic it’ll be one day to speak it fluently and demonstratively, perhaps while holding a glass of wine, or even while driving us (I’ve invented a car full of Spanish friends here) to a brewery somewhere up a pine-lined mountain road. But still I don’t do the work. I’m doing well, but I could be doing better. A legendary Katie school report.

This is why, as well as with many other things I’ve had time to think about over the past few weeks, I’m going to try my best to do better. Last week I spoke to a friend who said they were using this time for “self-betterment”. I didn’t feel up to it then, but I think I do now. And I’m starting it off with 15 minutes a day of Spanish revision. And listening to Rosalía while I scroll doesn’t count anymore.

Other Stuff

• I’ve had an Elvis cookbook on my shelf for as long as I can remember, and I had no idea it was a thing. This Eater piece by Nick Mancall-Bitel shows that not only is it a huge thing, it’s a very comforting thing too.

• Meet the women activist book collectors bringing women’s literature into the light and asking “what really creates the value of an old, old book?”

• Even if you’re not a homebrewer, this recipe for a banana milkshake IPA is well worth your time, because it’s also a politically-charged reaction against fascism written by the man who threw a milkshake at national disgrace Nigel Farage. Yes, really!

• Do you like Killing Eve? I do. Well, I think I do. I’m not sure if I’m really paying attention to it anymore. Sandra Oh and Jodie Comer have risen above the need for script or plot, really. I’d watch them smoke in silence at a bus stop. Anyway, if you watched this week’s episode and wondered what would a Roman Centurion would actually smell like, I’m one step ahead of you. I can, through this article from the Science In School site, show you what Julius Caeser himself would have smelled like. Myrtle. Pomegranate. Power.

• I loved this piece on how cosplayers in the USA are making masks for anyone who needs them. There are so many glittery-heart-emoji-worthy quotes in there. 

• Gabrielle Hamilton’s raw and brutally honest insight into the closure of her restaurant Prune due to the Coronavirus outbreak has taken me a week to read. I’ve still not made it to the end. It’s vitally important, and I’m infinitely grateful for her direct, no-bullshit words on the subject, but it’s so close to the bone it’s literally embedded in my ankle like a bear-trap. So, that was me warning you, I guess.

• You should at least follow @publishrsweakly and read this article about why.

• Lily Waite is creating “Until Further Notice”, a zine documenting pubs in East London during lockdown. I believe this will not only be a beautiful, heartfelt piece of stunning photographical work, but an important historical document. Pre-order yours here.

• The Rendition has created a great list of black theatre shows you can watch at home via the BFI, BBC iPlayer, Amazon Prime and many more platforms.

• A fascinating look at conspiracy theories and the resurgence of Satanic Panic amidst the backdrop of… all this. And it features a bit about making shoes out of human skin like Buffalo Bill which really made me laugh.

• A fun short essay on collecting clichés in the books you read.

• Artist Katherine Jones creates beautiful object art from found and treasured items. “Mamgu’s Boxes” stole my heart this week; a careful display of everyday objects, some personal, some disposable, once owned by a beloved Grandma, now a thing of beauty forever. (You might have to scroll down to find it.) It reminds me so much of my own nan.

Mamgu’s (Grandma’s) Boxes – Katherine Jones

I had no idea how much I would miss the sea when all this began. The cold reaching fingers of it brushing my toes. The deep and mottled turqouise of its depths, hanging like a veil over ancient volcanic rock. The peaks of it, rising grey and dirty against a low, steely horizon. Lashing waves crashing in protest against the confines of gloss-painted promenade railings. A loose grip around my ankles. A glossy suspension of reflecting sunlight.

I woke up on the morning of January 1st 2020 totally calm. I’d dreamed of tideless Mediterranean water, and in this dream I’d swum out from a cove carpeted in sand made from tiny particles of pearlescent shells into the wide, flat ocean, and I’d lay on my back and been carried. I had no idea then, and why should I, how far away the sea was.

Other Stuff

• If you have been looking for ways to help support people in hospitality who have lost everything or who are struggling to get by, this article has a useful list of charities who are doing good work within the industry.

• A heartfelt paen to Pliny The Elder, by Matthew who has given us so many escapist landscapes to rest in recently.

• Have you ever noticed that Spain’s wine and cheese is rarely seen as equal to it’s European counterparts? I have, and it pisses me off. So finding this piece on Franco’s push for mass production was really interesting and gave some clue as to what held Spain back, and how artisans are leading the “second golden age”.

• Sugar Creek Malt are clearly malt artists and this story is so evocative I can almost smell the lavender smoked malt (although that might be my burning lavender sticks.) PS. Malt is cool.

• Jesus god do I want some curry bread right now.

• “Honk once for “Amen,” twice for “Glory hallelujah”” — church from the car park, captured by photographer Mark Peterson.

• I’ve spoken to a lot of people with a lot of different accents this week, and as well as proving to me that speaking to people is usually how to get myself out of writer’s block, it made me wonder why my accents shifts and changes depending on who I’m speaking to. I found no conclusive answers (and one article that flat out told me I was imagining it) but I did find this really weird article on a BBC website about how your accent influences how people feel about you, and within it is a fun photo of Cheryl Tweedie and Prince Charles. I didn’t know what to do with the information it taught me, so now I’m giving it to you.

• As I was just about to buy a label-maker on eBay last night, I felt like this article was directly attacking me.

• I wrote about synthetic meat a few months ago. But have you heard of synthetic wine? No grapes, no gravel, no winery: a totally lab-built drink. It sounds pretty disgusting to tractor-and-straw-hat-preferrin’ me, but then again it could bring down carbon emissions compared to mass-produced wine you already think is bad. A quite-interesting read, and it’s not about the virus, which is also probably why I leapt on it. Oh and the techies that made it say things like “we think this is the last frontier of digitisation” which is both hilarious and awful.

• I discovered Tapas magazine this week, and with it this optimistic speech from winemaker José Moro.  “Wine unites us.” I’ve heard people say that about beer in the UK. (I’m not going to pretend that I am fluent in Spanish, but I try to read it anyway. And google is right there with the translate tool after I give up on the second sentence.)

• Adnams Brewery, spun in golden yarn by ATJ. Plus some beautiful pictures of Southwold. Escapism. You deserve it.

• Something to do: On May 2nd Gabe Cook is hosting the world’s biggest cider tasting. Should be fun!

My Stuff

• This week I was invited back to the Cabin Fever podcast and had a lovely time chatting about writing and tuna with Claire Bullen, Lily Waite and gracious host Eoghan Walsh. Find the episode here. I was surprised to hear myself talking with some degree of sense about creating art during a time like this when everyone is already so self-aware, so please give it a listen if you can.

• I did writing this week, so expect some published pieces in the coming weeks.

• I post every day (pretty much) on my book-based instagram, so if you like books, why not give me a follow?

The Iles d’Or — Henri-Edmund Cross

I have wanted to smoke every day since lockdown began. Smoking is something I gave up because I knew I should, but I never gave up on being a smoker. It’s a disgusting habit, but I loved it. I still smoke occasionally — I’m allowed a single packet at Christmas, if I feel like it, but for the past two years I’ve not bothered. The thought has become more satisfying than the nicotine rush now. I steal a one from a friend on a night out maybe once a year. I don’t miss the rush of nicotine. I miss standing in glittery velvet clothes, darkly linered eyelids lowered as my cigarette is lit by a friend’s slender chipped-nailpolish hands, warm, happy bodies standing close together, a moment of surreptitious bad behaviour away from the busy bar. Or sat on a wall like kids, sharing one rollie back and forth, comfy in similar jackets and old stories we don’t even have to tell.

*

The leaves have sprung out suddenly and my house is surrounded by colour. The black jagged shapes of trees reaching up to white winter skies changed while I was indoors and on Monday before dusk I was shocked by soft green on branches I had remembered as austere and foreboding. Spring comes every year, but every year I’m surprised by the effect is has on me, and how grateful I am for it. I’m not about to say it’s making The Situation better but I’m finding it helpful to remember that spring reminds me that I’ve made it through winter again. And that’s always reason to celebrate.

Other Stuff

• Patti LuPone on sparkling form in this New Yorker interview talking sex scenes, how stunning she looks in new series “Hollywood” and being known as “that roaring bitch”, (plus a weird bit about aliens starting the virus????)

• A sad but vital and interesting piece on British farmhouse cheesemakers and how The Current Situation is affecting them. We’re ordering local beers and supporting local offies, but can we support local dairies and cheesemakers too?

• The internet isn’t just a place to scroll through. It can be your only safe space. It can be connection. It can be lifesaving. Lily Waite has written these very true and important things in her recent piece for Good Beer Hunting, and you should read it.

• A stunning thread on the history of Bradley’s Spanish Bar in Fitzrovia/Soho depending on whom you speak to. Greek wrestlers! Flamenco guitarists! Dr Death! Skiffle! It’s a ride.

• Matthew Curtis had a very busy week this week, and two of his articles published this week were on malt. Fascinating, vital, highly overlooked malt. Here’s his manifesto on why us, the drinkers, should care more about malt. And here is something much more complex but very interesting — the ongoing development of malting technology that’s happening right under our noses to continue making beer better than ever. Malt is cool!

• A beautiful meditation on the little freedoms we all have if we look up, and getting to know the daily routines of the birds that pass the window by Richard Smyth, who you might know as the nature writer who writes The Guardian’s monthly Country Diary.

• Rack & Return are doing a daily wine quiz in their Instagram stories and they are a lot of fun (and difficult).

• Are you interested in the chemicals that make things smell the way they do? Check out this Smithsonian article on the various chemical compounds that make durians smell as… interesting as they do.

• I’ve been listening to a lot of Bill Withers since his sad passing the other week. This piece from Rolling Stone is a soft, caring portrait of a man that enjoyed his time in the spotlight and has no regrets in choosing to leave that part of his life behind him.

• Two Easters ago Vogue published a piece on agnelli — traditional Sicilian marzipan artworks — and how the number of artisans creating them are shrinking, they’re still around in New York if you know where to look.

• A poignant but ever-so-sad look at Brussels during lockdown from Brussels Beer City. “We do not know when they will open again, and some of them never will. But for now, they are in stasis, neither living nor dead. They just wait. And the waiting is the hardest part.” That noise was my heart breaking like a Jupiler glass hitting a tiled floor.

My Stuff

• As you’re probably aware, I’ve not been achieving much lately. I have a few pieces that should be published in the May edition of Ferment mag, and I’m working on some other things, just very, very, very slowly. I feel like I’m at about 30% efficiency at the moment, and the rest of my brain is powered down, working away dealing with stress and routine change. I’ve never been good with routine change.

• I should have been at a Libero tap takeover at Altrincham FC today, so instead please read this piece I wrote on craft beer and local football bringing communities together and maybe buy some local beer and send some support to your local club too.

• Fancy reading even more about malt? I wrote this back in Jan 2019 about heritage malts, and it features one of my fave ever beers, Govinda Chevallier by Cheshire Brewhouse.

Villabate Alba, Bensonhurst by Nikki Krecicki

When I work at the pub I can see people stop by the estate agents across the road, pointing at the photos of someone else’s living space, glazed by the perma-glow of a shop that sells nothing. I wonder if it helps gauge a place for them — how much it costs to live there, the sorts of people they could be (or might have to become) if they moved in. If they come in for a drink afterwards, I like to think they’re imagining us as the potential local they’d visit if the house they’d picked out was theirs.

I’m nosy in a different way, because I read the local paper. It was a habit forced on me at university — “all good journalists read the local papers” — and now it’s one of the first things I check on my phone when I go somewhere new. Push aside the car thefts and speeding fines abundant and just as boring everywhere and you’ll get to eccentric opinion columns, restaurant reviews and heartwarming stories about fundraising for the coastguard/hospice/playing fields. Reports on new housing developments. Demolitions. Repairs to bridges and road closures. The comforting mundanity of everyday life, different, but seen through the same clichéd headlines and newspaper jargon. It takes the edge off, somehow.

Other Stuff

• This feature on poet Cynthia Cruz is so powerful it took me a while to get through it all. She talks about the shame of poverty and, really interestingly to me, the confused ideas of self-improvement and self-commodification. “Aspiration to me is like this neoliberal thing… improve myself… make myself a brand, sell my persona. Especially as an artist, that’s what everyone is doing now.”

• How experts at isolation deal with isolation. Plus a very good intro full of every feeling I’ve had so far about the lockdown by Anna Russel.

• Always got time for a food writer’s love letter to their favourite food from their favourite restaurant and this on Taka’s tuna from Yoko’s in Portland by Andrea Damewood is just pure happiness.

• Something different and delicious: Craft dairy in Athens.

• In a season with no sports, sports radio hosts in America have become the unexpected trusted voices of the pandemic. This is a super interesting piece looking at how broadcasters are holding up an increasingly vital line of communication, and how it no longer makes sense to carry on as normal in the name of escapism. If people want to talk about what’s happening, why wouldn’t they want to talk about it with the people they let into their ears and hearts on a daily basis? (I came across this piece because I was hoping to find something along similar lines about radio presenters. Radio 6 has been a lifeline for me this week, and I might have to write about that at some point.)

• It’s April and the weather is cheering up and we need some escapism. May I recommend reading (or re-reading) The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim? Here’s a review of it. It’s perfect.

• I miss going to the pub. That’s not strange. I specifically miss going to The Old Fountain after reading Johnny Garrett’s piece on the Old Street institution. That’s very strange — I’ve never actually been there.

• Allan McCollum’s Ongoing Collection Of Reassurance is everything for me at the moment. I even find how he created the collection — by watching endless episodes of TV shows on a laptop and screenshotting the iamges as he saw them — highly relevant and somewhat bleak, but only in a relateable way. 

My Stuff

• Some news: this week I found out I was shortlisted in a short story competition run by The Writer’s Retreat. My story, The Barometer, will be published in their anthology later this year.

• Tom took over the kombucha this week — and started making kimchi, sauerkraut, sourdough and a number of other things in bubbling jars and sealed bags. My story about making kombucha has an ending, finally. I gave up, and Tom is now the mama.

OK457 by Allan McCollum, taken from 
An Ongoing Collection of Screengrabs With Reassuring Subtitles

Apologies to anyone hoping to click on Valerie Kathawala’s piece on wine in Vienna for Pellicle magazine in this week’s newsletter. I’m an idiot and used the wrong URL.

You can find it here.

Thank you to Chris for letting me know about the error! Happy reading.

A fascination with medieval history that I thought I’d left behind in my childhood has been the filter through which I’ve viewed this week. While the world escapes in their own ways, I’ve dug deep into stories filled with knights and monks and detailed architectural musings on 12th Century cathedrals. Instead of dealing with… *gestures vaguely* this, I’m dreaming of ancient oak forests and ten-day travels on horseback to the nearest city; of tournaments, of banners streaming in the strong wind of a late-spring day, and of plate armour shining in the sun. I’m glad of my daily bread and beer, for it is more than I should expect as a common serf in the outer-suburbs of the lands of De Lacy.

What is it about wattle and daub, pottage and monastery politics that I’m loving so much? Because that’s all I’m interested in currently, not even the fun stuff — I want the dark ages, but no magic or dragons, thanks. Is it comforting to think about life continuing through harsh, unyielding circumstances? Do I like learning about sophisticated people from a time I can barely comprehend not only surviving brutality but thriving and shagging and learning Norman French, Latin and sparring techniques to boot? Am I finding solace in the idea that time has slogged on so far from these times and even the worst plagues, battles, fires and slaughters didn’t wipe us out altogether? Or am I envious of a time when people neither understood the importance of washing their hands nor talked about it every second of the day?

I don’t normally theme these newsletters, but since my week has relied very heavily on escapism, that’s exactly what I’m going to focus on. I tried to get a handle on the situation last weekend and all it did was make me go temporarily but extremely mad, so instead I’m in my solar, reading endless rip-roaring post-Arthurian political dramas, drinking beers with friends via video chat and forgetting to write in my journal. And occasionally doing some work until I forget how to spell. (I spelled “bulb” with an “o” yesterday. Still laughing about it. Things are not so well.)

Other Stuff

• Follow Felix Quintana as he tours us through his hometown of LA via his gorgeous “blueprint” cyanotypes taken using Google Earth and scratched with his own symbols of the city.

• David Hockney has been creating and sharing new artworks that in his words depict the renewal and love of the new season. The lead piece is titled: “Do Remember They Can’t Cancel The Spring.”

• Find out about the families who live on the Faroe Islands via this amazingly detailed and interactive longread. I didn’t know that some of the islands were connected by tunnels! And that some were only accessible by helicopter! Be warned, there are maps here, and where there are maps there are hundreds of wasted hours of zooming in and out and snooping around, in my experience.

• Author Reif Larsen did my dream job this week — he wrote a piece on how great travelling via Google Street View is for The New York Times. Nevermind, it’s totally captivating. I’ll allow it.

• Related to my current Medieval obsession, this essay from The Met on the art of the book in the Middle Ages is fascinating. Additional fun: every picture at the top is clickable to find out more about the contents, and see even more of their pages filled with beautiful illuminations and calligraphy.

• An excellent collection of bikepacking videos found by Tom on Bikepacking.com. Go to Mongolia. Go to The Cairngorms. Go to Canada, go to Colorado, go to Alaska and feel lucky that you don’t have to get as cold, muddy, exhausted and filthy as the people in the films. (But maybe note down some of the places for future dream trips.)

• Valerie Kathawala’s beautiful story on the wine culture of Vienna is so breezy and enchanting and full of interesting facts– and I loved learning that in Austria, vineyards are there to be enjoyed by EVERYONE.

• Claire Bullen’s tour of the beer cellars of the Czech Republic is as emotive and lavishly descriptive as you’d hope. It made me thirsty. And hungry. And jealous.

My Stuff

• This week Original Gravity reached out to me to ask if I wouldn’t mind them re-publishing my piece on holiday lagers. Of course not! I love this piece, and I’m so proud that it was one of my first ever pieces published outside of my blog. I hope you enjoy it.

• I was chuffed to be able to write a big old longread on Wide Street Brewery for Ferment Magazine. Meeting Sean and Carla was a highlight of Carnivale Brettanomyces last year and while I wish I could have been there in person to interview them, I’m glad to be sharing their unique, community-supported, communithy-supporting brewery with you.

David Hockney — Do Remember They Can’t Cancel The Spring