The Bear Season Two: Just watched

It’s funny how a programme can be so different from season to season and yet hold up its quality threshold and dramatic intensity.

Unlike the UK’s Boiling Point which is a one-paced act of unremitting rage (but great all the same) The Bear has many gears in its armoury and in Season Two, more so than one, it finds time to test drive them and show us serenity, rage, humour, regret and hope.

As it develops it has a zen like quality that introduces us to the characters of Season One that were just parachuted onto our screens in the midst of a war zone and left to get on with it. Whereas Season One was tricky to decode Season Two does all of the heavy lifting for you and week by week properly defines its characters.

Carmy (who we knew all about from S1) is given space to breathe as he plans how to position his new restaurant in Chicago and to experiment with the wonderful Sydney as she revels in her education as a fine dining (star) chef. Although how she survives her food orgy of Episode 3 is anyone’s guess.

Richie reinvents himself as a front of house magician and cultivated and cultured gastrophile. Marcus has an amazing sojourn in Copenhagen with an odd Noma-like guru chef. It’s as zen as the series gets, before the series centrepiece Fishes (that gets the full 60+ minute treatment) blows us all away.

Then Richie has his starring moment in Forks.

Along the way both Nat and Matty are filled out, character-wise, and without spoiling its conclusion for you we are ultimately teed up for another entirely unpredictable Season 3.

The writing, direction and performances (not to mention the music) in this production are magnificent. It’s not quite on the highest ever plateau of Succession, but I tell you what, it’s not far off. Wonderful TV that resonates as true to me and its many, many fans.

Edinburgh Festival Review: FOOD by Geoff Sobell, Day 16.

In 2018 we saw the extraordinary HOME by Geoff Sobell at the King’s Theatre in which he built a home on stage and then residents past present and future enacted a sort of glorious farce. It was five star then (here’s a wee clip to give you the idea).

Last night we saw his latest more modestly scaled production, a one man show this time, called FOOD. We had booked early so had a seat at the table, a huge 50 seat dinner table and stage in which we speculate on the meaning, origin and future of the food chain.

It’s a philosophical polemic on mass production and is utterly compelling, involving model making (remember Michael Bentine’s Potty Time?) magic, slight of hand and a magical gross out eating sequence that is truly baffling.

Both Jeana and I played our audience participation part and really enjoyed sharing our memories from smelling a glass of woody wine. Both of us chose childhood memories, her’s her own, mine, of our children’s.

An absolute treasure in the heart of Scotland. The Grandtully Hotel by Ballintaggart.

Travel writers go into paroxysms of joy when they stumble upon places that are unexpected because of their settings.  Open the Sunday Times every week and you’ll read about the top 20 hidden gems in food, hotels, spas, towns etc.

This is one of them.

Grandtully is a one horse town situated five miles from the A9 on the main road north from Perth to Inverness.  Previously its nearby fame came from the awesome Motogrill (Scotland’s greatest greasy spoon and a true competitor to Westmoreland for best service station).  But this is an altogether different proposition.

The hotel, with only eight rooms, has been transformed from a shabby hostel into a boutique residence that usually only the big cities offer, and even then this level of quality is not the norm.

This is a beautifully designed residence with many, many delightful designer touches and a dining room to match.

We ate today, in mid-November so somewhat off-season, and the dining was partaken in the superbly cool bar.  When I say cool I mean the decor because it was anything but cool with its glowing log fire set in the centre.  Cosy indeed.

First impressions are of the bar which offers very good choices of craft beers. (Specifically Pilot brewery from Leith who have effected what almost amounts to a tap takeover.  If you like good beer you will like the Grandtully.)

The food comes in three forms.  Little bites like the gorgeous beetroot cured smoked salmon at £1 a portion and the orgasmic Black pudding and pork croquettes – we had three but wished we had had 30.  And a Highland Charcuterie plate for only £4.  Lovely.

We then tried their signature small plate of salt and spicy squid with a tangy fish sauce dip.  Magnificent.

Our mains were to die for.  My belly of lamb (a first for me) was both juicy and crispy, the monkfish with fennel and salsa verde was excellent and Amy’s Monkfish and cod curry was utterly delicious (£10!).

Desserts did not disappoint.  A lovely raspberry doughnut ( a wee bit heavy) with a superb raspberry sorbet, a superb chocolate Torte and a delicious walnut Choux pastry all hit the spot.

They have wine on tap – a Cotes du Rhone and an unfiltered Corsican white were both interesting and good value.

This is the real deal.  I expect to see Grandtully picking up awards galore in the years to come for both the hotel AND the restaurant.

And it’s affordable.

Get there before it gets unbookable.

 

 

 

 

How to lose weight. The easy(ish) way.

I’ve been asked a fair bit about my diet and how it works so effectively.

Here’s what I wrote earlier today.  I hope it helps because it most certainly works for me.

OK. It’s really simple. And involves calories.

You consume as many as you burn and you don’t lose weight. Simple.

So, start from your normal daily burn which for men my size is about 2,500 calories. Cut that by 1,000 and do 1,000 cals of exercise (an hour vigorous workout) and you are at a net 2,000 calorie debt per day. It’s 3,500 calories to lose a pound so I reckon this equates to half a pound a day or 3.5 – 4 lbs a week.

Now, to what to eat. You need to go for slow release foods on so few calories (but you can have lots of them). Alcohol is a total no no.

No simple carbs like bread, cereal, pastry, chocolate, biscuits, crisps, potatoes, fruit juice, white rice and pasta – absolutely none at all

Instead swap those, if you must, for complex carbohydrates like brown rice and wholemeal pasta (in moderation).

Eat lots of pulses (beans and lentils) and protein (lean meat and eggs preferably).

DO NOT go on an Atkins style Protein diet.  THEY DO NOT WORK.

Eat breakfast. An absolute MUST. I have 50g of high fruit and nut muesli (my preference is for Dorset Cereals – the dark green box) supplemented with a lot of fresh fruit in it like melon, blueberries and strawberries and skimmed milk (400 cals approx).

Do not go to Starbucks.  Or if you do, only have an Americano with skimmed milk.

For lunch I have soup and fruit (2 apples usually) – no bread with the soup – or, if at home, a two or 3 egg omelette, no fat in the cooking (just that spray stuff). (300 cals approx)

For dinner I usually have things like stir fries with chicken or prawns or fillet steak. Loads and loads of veg and only a handful of brown rice or 70g of wholemeal pasta. If I’m hungry later on I have those roasted monkey nuts you get in shells at Tesco or another apple. (700 cals approx).

If I cycle in and out of Edinburgh and walk the bridge I’ll burn 4,500 calories and will have lost a pound in a day.

The theory is called food combining (and it’s about managing your blood sugar levels effectively). The book above is magnificent. I swear by it. The Food Doctor Everyday diet by Ian Marber.

Forget the recipes, just read the theory over and over till it sticks.

Do not get in a rut eating the same things every day.

I promise you, you won’t be hungry on this ‘diet’ – although it’s more than a diet, it’s a regime.

The worst bit is the no booze rule but an important principle in the diet is what Marber calls the 80:20 rule in which 20% of the time you relax the regime (for me that means you can have a bev!)

That’s it.

(For the record I lost 64lbs in 138 days last year.  I’ve started it again this year and have lost 11lbs in the first 16 days).  I lost 6 inches round my stomach and 8 from my chest.  My trousers went from size 40/42 to 34 and heading towards a 32  if I keep it up for another month.

My kinda tax avoidance

We’ve berated Starbucks et al.  Now let’s hear it for the honest cheat.  We applaud you senor.

A theatre (Quim Marce’s theater in the town of Bescano – north of Barcelona) in Spain was going bust because he Spanish government raised tax on theatre tickets to 21% with the result that punters were giving up on going out.  It was a peseta too far.

But Quim Marce (the owner) spotted a loophole whilst on a trip to his local market.

The humble, grubby carrot; donkey food down the old Iberian peninsula has given the tax man a sidestep and comes in at a mere 4%.

So, cue a change in pricing strategy down the old Quim Marce Theatre.  You no longer buy theatre tickets,  you buy carrots (for the same price as before) and gain free entry to the theatre as a thank you.

Brilliant.

His season next year will compose of

• Romeo and Julienne,
• The Importance of Being Par-boiled,
• Death of a Carrot Salesman,
• A Streetcar Named Desiree (potato and baby carrot salad),
• Glengarry Glenross variety,
• Speed the Plow,
• View from a Bridge by the Allotment,

I saw an amazing flock of swans land in the Forth this afternon.

More Haute Cuisine, Stirling Style.

I read about Rendall’s the Butchers in Drip Rd, Stirling in a paper last week so, as I was passing this morning on the way to a meeting at Stirling University, I took some time out to buy my lunch.

The subject of the recent journalistic expose, and some hilarity, for the butchers was their new line of pies guaranteed to cure any hangover (Hair of the dog I suppose).

Note 28% meat, 2.5% Buckfast

My worry is what the remaining 69.5% consists of.

Nonetheless they were delicious.

Engraulis encrasicolus

I’ve been away. In Perthshire. On holiday. Hence the neglect to my blog.

But I’m back and I’m gonna start with a rant.

The letter below, that I wrote to Baxters, should be self explanatory…

The Managing Director
Baxters Food Group
(Retail Division)
Fochabers
Moray
IV32 7LD

Dear Sir/Madam

I enclose a package of what your delicatessen in the Baxters Food Store in Blackford laughably describes as edible.

Were I in need of a quantity of rubber fish (perhaps to use as a prop in a Pantomime or even, more grandly, a movie) I’d have found the £2.70 I spent in Blackford a very worthwhile and economic investment. After all, to fashion such life-like facsimiles of the common or garden Anchovy fillet (Engraulis encrasicolus) would be no mean feat for such a price (no doubt the Chinese would have to be enlisted for their outstanding skills in mass producing machine-tooled ephemera).

Were I in need of a full colonic cleansing treatment I may have eschewed the four market leaders shown below and opted instead to actually consume these anchovyesque ‘things’ that you sold me.

As it happens my suspicions, which were aroused at point of sale, that this produce would be unfit for human consumption were sadly proven to be justified. They were raised upon observing your super-inefficient sales lady dousing the aforementioned Anchovy-like, gut churning, rubbery specimens in the ancient oil in which they lay, in a vain effort to breathe elasticity into their tired and dehydrated bodies.

Because, on opening the packing a few hours later her elaborate deception unravelled quicker than you can say ‘Salmonella’.

To say these anchovies were past their best would be an understatement of gargantuan proportions. These anchovies are so ‘past their best’ that I suspect they may have been caught by a trawler thrashing around in the wake of the Titanic. I may even go further than that and suggest they are the discovered remains of an orgiastic party held by Nefertiti.

Sir; because I have enclosed these vile beasts you will be able to see for yourself what these monsters of the deep could have done to me and my young family before you decide how best to unbesmirch the previously pristine reputation of the Baxters Food Group.

Yours faithfully

Mark Gorman

UPDATE

Yesterday I received a very straightforward letter in response to my own, bereft of humour, enclosing a £10 voucher and an apology.  Ok, fair enough, they took it on the chin, but I’d have liked a bit of repartee (and a hamper).

Would you buy a Chicken Chasseure off these men?

Four of the handsomest chefs on the planet cooked a three course meal (with three or four choices per course) for 60 of the ladies of Holy Cross Parish on Saturday. Given that I was at it from 10 am to 11pm the day after the hedonistic Scottish Advertising Awards it made for a tough gig.

My dad did it for years, so I took his place this year.

But we made at least £500 profit for charity so can’t really complain.

At least we looked good.

Nae. Great!