Do me a favour. Dig out a copy of Be My Baby by The Ronettes.
Allendale is a pretty little village in the heart of the North Pennines, barely a spit and a whistle from the Scottish border. There’s history here–it was once a key centre of Northumbria’s lead-mining industry, and workings are scattered across the wildly lovely landscape. Continue reading The Allendalek
This morning, I went for a swim. TLC and I were on a weekend away at a posh hotel, and she urged me to give the spa facilities a go. Twenty leisurely lengths of the pool and a dose of sauna heat and steam room sweat opened up my pores and left me achy but glowing.
At one point I shared the steam room with a Spanish guy in budgie-smugglers. We exchanged a friendly nod, and that was it. A simple, normal moment of small luxury.
It had been at least fifteen years since I had been able to walk into a pool or spa area with any hint of confidence. Even a year ago, the Spanish gentleman would have looked at me with a mix of horror and disgust, and probably walked right back out of the steam room.
(TW: The following contains graphic descriptions of medical symptoms).
DATELINE: 9th July 2018
Pepi’s Bar And Restaurant is a little bit of Austria in the Rockies. OK, sorry, let’s track back a little. The Hotel Gasthof Gramshammer is a little bit of Austria in the Rockies. Pepi Gramshammer was a member of the 1960 Olympic Ski Team, and saw the birth of Vail, effectively an Alpine-themed Milton Keynes, as an opportunity. 54 years later, it’s still there, the cheerfully orange frontage inviting you in as an antidote to the blando corporate blah on show elsewhere.
It’s unapologetically Austrian, offering schnitzel, spatzle and hearty rib-sticking winter fare all year round. As a stop off for lunch on our way through from Great Lakes to Palisades, it suited rather well. There was a sense of history and personality to the place, a sense of ‘fuck you, I was here first, and the big orange building stays.’ It’s an attitude that the rest of Vail could do well to copy or at least look at.
We snagged an end table on the terrace (which I have a nasty feeling was reserved for someone else but hey we got there first and we were English and polite therefore fuck youse) which made the hangout much more choice. We watched the rich and privileged of Vail waft past, sweetly invulnerable to the world around them.
Pepi does a damned good Reuben. You don’t have to unhinge your jaw to eat it.
DATELINE: 9th July 2018
Grand Junction, CO
When a place gets independently recommended by three different sources, you know you have to check it out. Bin 707 in Grand Junction got shout-outs from our next-door neighbor in Grand Lakes, a random lady at the World’s End brewpub down the way, and our hosts at Palisades.
Sure, ok, you have our attention.
Tucked into the business district of Grand Junction, Bin 707 is a gem of a place that you could walk past and miss and that would be a fuckup on your part. Highwalled, with a long low patio that allows you to make the most of the hazy 25 degree evening, Bin 707 is serious about their provenance. Local first, then state, then national. Which means Colorado lamb and pork is strong on the menu, with some great river-food in support. Alongside an amazing porchetta with green chili and hominy, and a lamb tenderloin so tender it almost melted on the fork, we enjoyed a glorious bavette that succumbed to the blade like a giallo victim, and duck breast that offered the perfect payoff between fat, crisp and melting tenderness. Stretch hit the jackpot, though. A simple Thai-spiced bowl of mussels won with the sweetest, plumpest bivalves I’ve ever tasted. The only criticism–more sourdough toast needed to soak up the precious juices.
Oh, and the beer menu was genuinely intimidating. In a good way, I mean. Thank the gods that our friendly and knowledgeable server could guide my way.
Relaxed, confident, delicious. You guys have to try this place out.
DATELINE: 10th July 2018
Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. If you play it right, it can be the only meal of the day. If you want a serious, old-school American carbo-load, then Starvin Arvins on the main drag through Clifton is a must stop.
It’s dark wood and cozy booths. It’s stuffed animal heads on every wall. It’s stacked platefuls of food for absurdly small outlays of cash. It’s more coffee than you can drink in one go, and I never thought I’d write that sentence.
At Starvin, your waitress will be bright, blonde and heavily tattooed and it’s not a hipster affectation. At Starvin, I finally saw the point to breakfast. Here’s the buffer zone between you and the world. Here’s where you armour up against the challenges ahead.
A plateful of hash browns, cheese, sausage gravy and a cats-head biscuit with home-made peach and strawberry jelly on the side. Whatever else happens in your day, you know you’ve got breakfast right at least.
Fruit And Fibre? Bitch, please.
DATELINE: 10th July, 2018
One last thing, that isn’t breakfast, lunch or dinner, but needs to be raised to the group. The Grand Junction area is incredibly fertile, and Palisade, our base for this week, is rich in fruit of all kinds. It’s a big wine-growing region, and you have to know we’ve been tasting our faces off. The Dry Rosé at Grand River Winery is a crisp, flinty revelation.
But oh, the fruit. Summer season peaches are absurdly juicy and full-flavoured, spilling honeyed nectar down your chin with every bite. The Bing cherries on offer at every stall are so sweet and rich, almost alcoholic in their roundness and complexity. We spent money at Get Peachy, but you can do as well at Nana’s Fruit and Jam Shack, Herman’s Produce… oh, man, you honestly can’t go wrong.
Five-a-day never felt so easy.
Two days in America, when it is at it’s most America. Let freedom ring, or something.
A small detail of the decorations in our Kalamath St. Residence.
‘You can give peace a chance. I’ll cover you if that doesn’t work out.’
Texas plates, natch.
The next few were taken on a stroll down Santa Fe Avenue. Details of street art.
Detail of the art outside Chuey Fu, Denver’s leading Lanitx/Asian joint. Try the char sui burrito. Thank me later.
Celebratory fireworks at Civic Centre Park, Independence Eve, approximately 9:50 pm, at which point we had been in position for three hours and 20 minutes. Not entirely convinced the wait was worth it, although there was a great deal of kaboom packed into ten minutes.
Denver Botanical Gardens, earlier that day. Pixel art by Mike Whiting, which worked rather nicely in the space. The Gardens are lovely, by the way. Very heavily recommended.
4th of July parade, the Park Valley community, East 23rd St. It was hot. Damn hot. A lot of the floats were firing full-spec water ordnance delivery systems into the crowd. We were grateful. Worth checking out Cake and Crumbs Cafe on Kearney St.
Spotted these fine gentlemen at Union Station, who seemed to be enjoying their Fourth Of July in high style. Cheers to them, and to you all.
Spoilers there are, yes. Continue reading Gods And Monsters: Faith and The Last Jedi