Tag Archives: beer

Marzipan

It comes in a brick-shaped block from the supermarket, and needs rolling out on a flour-dusted board. I thump the rolling pin down, ending up with ruts that take subtle coaxing to eliminate. Eventually it’s down to a quarter inch thickness, ready for a first attempt. Too sticky – and with patchiness, it fails to lift from the surface. A crumpled mess.

After some persistence, I can lift the sagging umbrella of dough up and drape it over the cake. It curtains around, spilling out in an untidy skirt. With knife point, I encircle it and gently tug the off-cut, peeling it up into a scrunched-up ball of leftovers. To eat now, sneakily, or mould into cute bunnies and Santa hats? I opt for the former.

The choral music, dragged out of dusty cupboards once a year, accompanies this pre-Christmas ritual. Soon I’ll add royal icing, a tree, a deer, and some chocolate sprinkles for deer poo. And so, a multi-generational tradition is maintained.

The excess of beer in my system dulls my concentration and mildly dizzies my head. Damp jeans from the homeward downpour chill my ankles, and bare feet fear chilblains, hiding under fleece blanket.

Plaice

Somehow, the flat, flaccid fish fails to satisfy. I don’t know if that’s just a foible of British cuisine, or something more fundamental. I yearn instead for Canary Islands cherne – grilled, strongly seasoned and chewable – handling great meaty chunks from a shared plate. The char grill has left black scars on the flesh that gently rasp my tongue. Intensely garlicky, and some hot spices I fail to identify.

I can feel the salt water tightening on my skin, dusting my face as orange light from the sea tints our faces. The honest salad is crisp and textured. Chilled beer gently swims circles in my brain – backstroking, in the light of driving task to come.

This is the place where we heard the German banshee, berating us all as sinners and pigs, perched on the high road and singing opera. Her voice grows fainter as we walk shorewards towards the car. Perhaps those distant figures are literally “coming to take her away”.

The freshness of Atlantic air mingles with low-grade deep fryers and cigarette smoke. In the darkness, voices are quieter. We watch a couple fight, the woman storming off, pursued.