Fodderblog: A New Way With Salmon And Broccoli

It’s one of those classic combinations. I love salmon and broccoli in fishcakes and as part of a quiche filling. But sometimes it’s nice to separate the ingredients out, and give them a chance to compliment each other in a different way.

I’ll admit, this is a slightly odd mix, with Italian playing against Chinese flavours. But it works well, and it’s a lively and springtimey meal.

Start off with a couple of decent-sized salmon fillets. Coat them in a goodly dollop of pesto, and then roll each fillet in breadcrumbs. (There is no reason not to have breadcrumbs in the freezer. It’s the best way of using up stale bread. Blitz or grate the end bits that would just go in the bin otherwise, and bag ’em up. Easys.) You won’t get an even coating, but you need enough to give a light crunch. Alternatively, splodge pesto on top and press on a palmful of crumbs for a denser, more crispy finish.

Pop the fillets onto a baking sheet lined with greaseproof paper, and into a hot oven (200C, Gas 6) for 20 mins.

While they’re doing, steam some purple sprouting or tenderstem broccoli, for about ten minutes. The greens should take the point of a knife without any resistance, but should still be, you know, green. Once done, let the broccoli cool slightly, before mixing it with something salady – pea tops would be ideal, or some young watercress. The salad will soften slightly in the heat from the broccoli. That’s the plan, and why you need a robust salad leaf.

Then dress the greenery. Make up a basic vinegrette (three parts oil, one part vinegar. I used cider vinegar, because it was to hand. Lemon juice would be nice, I think). Then a little soy sauce for salty umaminess, which you might need to balance with a bit more acid. Taste, and taste again until you’ve got a flavour that works. This goes over the broccoli and salad, enough to add a shine. Don’t go nuts.

Pile the greens onto two plates, and top with the sizzling fish from the oven. Any spare dressing can go on the side.

It’s light, but fresh-tasting and full of flavour. You can bulk it out if you like with some new potatoes or rice, but I think it’s perfect as is. Save room for some cake afterwards, instead.

Open The Door: X&HT Watched Limitless

Limitless is a film that speeds you through it’s premise and plot so quickly that you don’t really have time to think about what you’re seeing. It’s a fast, slick piece of Hollywood sci-fi, and like most fast slick Hollywood sci-fi, it’s as dumb as a bag of spanners.

Continue reading Open The Door: X&HT Watched Limitless

Reporting The Protest

That old saw that yesterday’s news is tomorrow’s chip paper has never seemed more accurate. After a days worth of opinion and outrage, the papers have moved on.

Let’s reflect on how the events of March 26th were reported. Up until the breakaway direct action groups rolled out their plans, there had been little to report. You know, just half a million people descending on the capital to express their outrage at brutal and un-necessary cuts to the welfare state.

It was only when paint started to be flung (the uncorroborated claims of light bulbs filled with ammonia also being lobbed at police is now being treated with scepticism. How do you fill a lightbulb with ammonia, anyway?) that the news feeds sparked into proper life.

Footage of Ed Milliband’s speech at the Hyde Park rally was split screened with police scuffles with protesters. A sure sign that although they wanted to be seen as even handed, the network’s interests were elsewhere.

Meanwhile, retail pranksters UKUncut kicked off their own action, and occupied Fortnam and Mason. As ever, the invasion was peaceful and cheerful. The reports of damage taking place were quickly and thoroughly shut down, as video and photos taken inside the building showed singsongs and campouts. The police would later arrest every protester inside, and charge them with aggravated criminal damage. The sum total of said damage – a knocked over display of chocolate bunnies.

The reportage of the day was becoming confused. Commentators like Sunny Hundal of Liberal Conspiracy initially accused UKUncut of diluting the original message by acting as the main speeches were going out. But he was also careful to note that they had nothing to do with the actions of the “Black Bloc” outside. Other reporters had no problem with merging the peaceful demonstration inside Fortnums with the paint-throwing activists on Piccadilly. Meanwhile, a rumour began to circulate that a member of the Sky News crew had offered someone £25 to throw a brick. This sounded suspiciously like a plot line from an old episode of Drop The Dead Donkey.

At Trafalgar Square, a group of about 200 had gathered. Violence was sparked off as police squads rushed into the crowd. The reasons for this remain unclear. The official police line is that they were acting to prevent damage to the Olympic clock. Eye witnesses, including the New Statesman’s Laurie Penney, maintain that the squads were trying to pick up individuals that had been earlier spotted causing trouble. Regardless, police lines closed, the kettle was lit, and a tense standoff began that effectively shut off the West End for most of the night. For just about all of the major news outlets, this would be the story. Penny Red’s view is here. And here’s another, slightly less purple version, from Liberal Conspiracy’s Dave Osler.

There’s a jarring disparity at work when you look at the footage and reports of the day. The even-handed claims of a huge and peaceful rally being marred by the action of a violent minority is illustrated almost exclusively with pictures and footage of the disorder. The protestors at Trafalgar Square and the Uncutters have been stigmatised by both the press and Police Commissioner Bob Broadstreet as criminals and anarchists. But as yet, there’s little proof that anyone arrested had anything to do with the window smashing on Piccadilly. And let’s not forget, they may not have been part of the main march, but they still have a perfectly legitimate right to protest. Tying UKUncut in with the brick-lobbers is an act of base dishonesty.

Let’s also note that the crowd was quiet up until they were rushed by riot squads. Even if the police were hurrying to protect the Olympic clock, their actions were certain to spark an already volatile situation. You’d be naive not to expect any trouble at a mass gathering like March 26th. A police charge into a bunch of over-excited kids is the surest way I know of to start some.

The picture that is emerging is muddled and unclear. Both sides are flinging accusations of bias, and of an opportunity lost.  We know that there are concerns about thuggish behaviour from both the police and protesters. It was ever thus, and for every picture of a kid in a hoodie heaving a brick through a window, there’s another of a copper in stormtrooper gear batoning a girl in the face. There’s no argument to justify either. But both seem to be a more valid illustration of the day than the big story.

I’d say the number of arrests speaks volumes, and points you at the bias of the reportage. 201 arrests. 149 people charged, of which 138 were the entirely peaceful UKUncut crowd. If Fortnums want to press charges, I’d say they’ll end up looking very silly making a stand over a few chocolate bunnies. Which leaves us with 11 people charged with criminal damage. Out of, let us remind ourselves, a crowd of five hundred thousand people. Do the maths on that, and then ask yourself why the scuffles on the periphery were the leading story.

 

+++UPDATE reflecting slightly changed numbers of arrestees.

The Sunday Lao Tzu: Great Acts

Great acts are made up of small deeds.

I was privileged yesterday to see half a million small deeds, coming together to make one great deed. People from all walks of life, from all strata of society, all sacrificing a day in order to make their voices heard. Many of them had begun their journey to London before the sun had risen. They would walk for miles, banging drums, blowing horns and whistles, making a glorious noise that will echo in the halls of those that consider themselves more powerful, that they know best. The five hundred thousand people that filled Piccadilly and Hyde Park yesterday disagree. I am happy to be amongst that number.

There will be attempts made to lessen the impact of the march yesterday, to call it the work of criminals and hoodlums, to point out the inevitable minor outbreaks of petty violence and call that the story. That’s not the case. You can’t silence half a million voices that easily.

We Went On A March By Accident

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TLC and I went into that London yesterday for art, theatre and general silliness to celebrate her birthday. I was aware, of course, that today was the date for the huge anti-cut march organised by the TUC, but I hadn’t figured that we’d see it.

It went down Piccadilly, and right past our hotel, of course. And that was a good thing, because we got the chance to see what was going on, and for a little while at least, join in and document.

The sheer scale of the undertaking was mindboggling. The march started from Victoria Embankment, and went all the way to a huge rally at Hyde Park. We were with it for a half hour or so, following it from Trafalgar Square to Half Moon Street. We passed thousands of people. Kids, adults, students, grandparents, mums, dads, nurses, teachers, public servants of every kind, all united under banners of every type, colour and material, and one message. The cuts that start to kick in next week are wrong.

I refuse to be objective about the issues at hand. I agree wholeheartedly with everyone on the march. It was amazing to see Piccadilly filled with people from end to end. I was cheered and moved by the good humour and determination of the protestors. I’d say quiet determination, except it wasn’t.

The vuvuzelas, hated noisemakers of the World Cup, has been retasked, and along with the drums, whistles and cheers means that the March has it’s own musicality, it’s own drive. It’s a drone that you can lose yourself in, a beat that matches your pulse. I hadn’t realised before, but marches are fun.

I really hope that the peaceful, joyous racket made today resonates through Parliament. The Government climbdown over the sale of the forests shows that if enough people make their opinion known, we can reverse poorly thought out and rushed policies. We should be proud and supportive of everyone out on the streets today. I’m glad I was there.

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+++UPDATE+++

TLC’s posted some of her rather excellent photos of the march as a Flickr set. Check ’em out here!

A Response To The Chancellor

(I didn’t watch the live Budget broadcast yesterday, for fear that I might throw something at the telly. This is a fairly common occurrence whenever George Osborne is on screen, so I figured probably best not. However, I was following the Twitters, with particular interest shown to tax expert and strident reformist Richard Murphy. He was not impressed. I’ve had a chance to see what was in young Osborne’s little red satchel, and I would like to respond as if I was the Shadow Chancellor (incidentally, isn’t that a great name for a fantasy villain?) – admittedly, with the benefit of hindsight that I don’t think Ed Balls gets.)

The Shadow Chancellor rises, and waits for the applause and jeering to die down. He fixes his opposite number with a hooded glare, and taps impatiently on his lecturn with the eraser end of a pencil.

The House of Commons is, unusually, completely silent as he speaks.

“Is that it? Really? Is that the best you can do? Have you given up so early in the game, George? I mean, this is just derisory. There’s hardly anything here! Alright, let’s see what you’ve managed to do, shall we?

A penny off fuel duty. When you’d raised it by two in the last budget, and a postponement of the next hike until January. Which means you’ve just promised the drivers of the nation two price rises on fuel in 2012. 50p on a packet of fags. Fine, I’m with you on the coffin nails. A sneaky play on alcohol duty though. No rise doesn’t mean you’ve abolished the duty escalator. So that’s a 2% rise above the rate of inflation. 10p on a pint over the next year. You’ve just doomed the rural pub market. Not that people can afford to drive to them in the first place, but that on top of the VAT hike is going to grease the slide on which a lot of these local community businesses are already teetering. Nice work.

“That’s a sweet little drop in corporation tax rates there. And I see you’ve made an attempt to address tax avoidance. Sort of. A bit. A fifty grand payment if you’ve lived in the UK for twelve years. I can see Philip Green quaking in his boots over that one. And you’ve not put a limit on the tax assets that banks are sitting on from the losses they incurred in the 2008 banking crisis. That’s what kept Barclay’s tax bill down to a 1% payment. Nicely done. Keeping your paymasters sweet.

“If you were serious about tax avoidance, you’d give HMRC the cash and staffing it needed to get to grips with the staggering amount of revenue we lose to corporate shenanigans every year. Instead, you’ve provided loopholes in inheritance tax and charitable contributions that will turn this country into a haven for tax abusers. Nicely considered.

And after that, we can still see that growth has slowed for the third successive quarter that you’ve been in charge of the accounts. That’s not the best record, really, is it?

“I suppose we should be grateful that you haven’t done more. After all, the cuts that will begin to bite in the next couple of weeks will be bad enough without you turning the screws any further. Unfortunately, you’ll probably find that your lame duck budget hasn’t fooled any one. I suggest you have a look at the people who will be filling the streets of London this Saturday. The people who will be clearly and directly affected by your politically motivated financial agenda. Is it a coincidence that you’re rushing through your attempt to clear the deficit in time for the elections of 2015, when most economic experts consider that there’s no problem with taking 12 years to do it? And in fact that this country is in significantly better financial shape than you’d have us believe?

“It’s becoming pretty clear to everyone with two brain cells to bang together and a fast internet connection that your policies aren’t working, that your interests are not those of the people you claim to represent, that you’re lying to the electorate in order to push through policies that are based on discredited economic theories dragging us back to the worst excesses of the Thatcher years, that your arrogance and hubris will not allow you to admit that the gamble you’re taking with this country’s future is putting us on a path to disaster. This Budget is pointless, because the damage is already done.

“I’d say thanks for nothing, George, but the sad fact is that you’re going to leave us with less than that.”

The Shadow Chancellor sits, and waits for the inevitable tumult.

The News From Japan (and what’s really going on)

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I mentioned last week that I was bothered about the way the awful news from Japan in the wake of the earthquake/tsunami/nuclear emergency trifecta was being reported. Turns out I’m far from the only one. The Japanese are bewildered and angry by the way the Western news media have been focussing on the drama at Fukushima to the near-exclusion of reportage on the very real and growing humanitarian crisis elsewhere. Worse, the focus, particularly on American news networks, has been to talk not about how the incident is affecting the Japanese, but how it is likely to impact on American lives.

This shouldn’t surprise anyone who’s seen American news programmes. They are shockingly insular. Foreign news is either a sixty-second sidebar, or non-existant. The rolling news networks have had to address wider concerns as a way of filling time, but even then the coverage is one-dimensional, and astonishingly ill-informed.

Take a look at this footage of pundit and harridan Nancy Grace, arguing with a weatherman about the likely spread of a plume of Godzilla farts to the California coastline.

Danny Choo writes an informed, comprehensive and geek-friendly blog about Japanese culture, and he has been tenacious in both logging the flawed coverage, and pointing out just how skewed from the reality it can be. Images like this give the lie to the fact that the population of Japan is evacuating in a mad panic. His must-read list of the most wildly speculative bits of news coverage includes, I’m sad to say, posts from the BBC News website, whose reporters really should know better.

I am not for one instant trying to belittle what has happened to Japan. On reading around I am more and more impressed and amazed with the way the Japanese are simply getting on with their lives and the job of reconstruction in the face of disaster. They deserve better and truer representation from the world’s news media then the lazy sensationalism that appears to be the norm.  These are tough times for Japan, and they don’t need this nonsense.

You can donate or get up-to-the-minute and accurate news about the events in Japan right here.

+++UPDATE+++

X&HTeam-mate Elina has pointed out to me that there’s an ever-growing list of bad reporting (including the Nancy Grace piece) up at The Journalist’s Wall Of Shame. Well worth a look. Thanks, Elina!

A Saturday Chicken and Sunday Sausages

(As promised, here’s yesterday’s post, which has been lying dormant in a sleeping netbook. I have taken steps to ensure that powerouts will not happen again. Thank you for your patience and consideration in this difficult time.)

 

We had rellies over this weekend, which always puts me in a nurturing, big-food mood. I love to gather people around our big round table and give them something good to eat. We lunched out heartily, so I was a little worried that my dinner would be picked over and poked about the plate without much interest. I was wrong.

I’ve always been a fan of the simple roast chicken, which takes so little effort and gives so much. The trick is not to ponce about, but allow the pure, clean flavours of the main attraction to shine through, with just a couple of accompaniments. On occasion we’ve simply had chicken with fresh warm bread and lots of aioli, but that’s a TLC and I treat that I don’t do for anyone else.

My way with chicken? A lemon up the backpipe (jabbed all over with a knife so that it squirts hot juice into the flesh as it cooks), olive oil massaged over the whole of the creature (think of how you would put suntan lotion on the one you love. Massage it in. Don’t be shy. You’re cooking with love), lots of Maldon salt and fresh ground pepper. That’s all. The chicken gives out enough fat to either baste your spuds or to make a thin, intense gravy. This time around I did neither, choosing to go a little French with a potato boulangerie (finely sliced potato and onion layered in a deep dish, covered with stock and baked) and a green salad of lamb’s lettuce and, in a trendy touch, pea tops, which look a bit like watercress and taste a bit like Bird’s Eye’s finest. The boulangerie was sloppy enough to create the lubrication the dish needed. It was great, and five empty plates told me all I needed to know. Then we had chocolate cake. Clearly, lunch had worn off.

The carcass was dealt with after we’d waved our guests goodbye the following day. It was stripped of any remaining meat (not much) then dumped in a pan, covered with water, and joined by peppercorns, the lemon (after I’d squeezed the sweet, tart juice over the leftovers) and a bay leaf. That bubbled away quietly to itself for a bit, maybe an hour or so, until I had a straw-coloured broth.

I’d done an emergency run to the shops the previous morning, and spotted Toulouse sausages on special, and a clever pack of beans and veg designed for a casserole. Sunday dinner fell into place in an instant.

The sausages were quickly fried off in a big pan after a dust with flour, which instantly gave them a tasty crust. Then the bean mix, and everything was tossed together to make friends. Once they were singing away happily, the remnants of a bottle of red from the night before went in, reduced down to cook off the booze and enrich the flavours. Then some of the stock from the chicken, enough to cover, and a squirt of tomato puree. I tipped the whole lot into my little red casserole dish with the lid, and into an oven at 200c/Gas 6 for an hour. The resultant stew was rich, unctuous, rib-sticking. There were whole cloves of garlic in the bean mix, which had softened enough to squish to a paste. The whole shebang was served with the remains of the Saturday loaf, and the leftover spuds from the boulangerie, pan-fried with leeks and mushrooms until a crust formed.

There’s enough stock left over to make a risottoish thing with the lemony chicken leftovers. One cheap chook has supplied enough to help out three meals. You don’t get that with a tray of pieces.

 

The Trouble With Postaday

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I’m coming up on three months of posting every day on X&HT, and I hope that thus far you’ve enjoyed the ride. I’ve constantly been surprised by the way in which I’ve found something fresh to talk about, even if it means looking at things I’ve mentioned in the past from a slightly different angle.

I can’t say it’s been easy, and the temptation to simply stick a funny pic or link up has been hard to ignore. But that’s what Twitter’s for, and I promised myself a long time ago that I wasn’t going to be a simple aggregator.

However. I forgot the charger for L’il Conojito this morning, which meant the battery dried before I could send this morning’s post to WordPress. Hence this quick, makepiece apology, banged out on the phone while I keep an eye on my work. I could just leave you all hanging. But that would be a betrayal of trust that I see reflected in the general upward curve of daily page hits, And I wouldn’t do that to you, Readership.

So, you get this, with my apologies. Normal service should be resumed tomorrow.

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(images via http://thisisnthappiness.com/)