after just perusing the sunday papers, my morning tradition with 2 slices of marmite and butter and a steaming cup of tea, I came upon endless articles which i had an opinion to write upon - the over thinking of image, re-emergence of the full english breakfast, tailored trousers and rolled up bottoms as well as the saturation of party politics in the coming month of decision. I also came to the realisation there were endless journalists in stock to write these flicked over colunms in obscure supplements. so, in later life, if i'm lucky, i shall be able to consign myself to being one amongst many in the infinite stock of struggling journalists.
To my previous topics in hand I had meant to be writing about, to begin with i bring you the curse of the dodgy £8.95 steak. without appearing libelous, i have some certainty that steak of said price and quality has brought me to my knees over the last few days, gasping for breath whilst i clutch the white porceline of my bathroom sink. food posioning. the absolute horror of it i had yet to experience before, and i hope never again. all food sold at these good-value prices i am sure, and know from experience does not result in stomach churning hell, but where very rare meat is concerned I now know that paying a premium is for the best.
Which brings me onto the other end of the food spectrum and the visual delight that was the final of masterchef. the idea of food as art never having been more appropriate than in the three 3 michelin stared restaurants they got to serve at. holy moly, i don't think my eyes have ever laid their sights on food so exquiste.
this was never more the case that the culinary spectacles offered at De Librije, on first glance i wouldn't even have recognised this as food. if sometimes i think a lindt bunny looks too cute to eat, i have no idea who would win in a fight between my stomach and my eyes in this case.
I'm not even 100% sure what this meal is, something with very delicately shaped prawns, or crab. watching the creation process gives a whole other meaning to the term merticulous cooking.
With all this fantising about food and its luxurious possibilties, it was reassuring to be reminded semi-recently about the allowance for this in fashion.
Who said reality sucked?
definately not Prada's recent ready to wear fall '10 lines, thats for sure. real figures. women who looked real. on a runway. refreshing somewhat after all these years of homogeneous blondes with slightly gappy teeth and scary bone structures. the clothes were an absolute triumph as well, again real clothes for women with breasts and hips, that preppy look sculpted from tweed and the new demure longer skirt lengtht
image from style.com
In the mean time however, i won't be eating or wearing clothes like this as i am fully resigned to a weekend in my bed, an application form or two my only escape from sick-induced boredom. and to make matters worse, it is g-l-o-r-i-o-u-s outside, i can hear the birds tweeting, for once it really feels like spring, and i want to find my walking boots and hike.
No comments:
Post a Comment