K'Naan America feat. Mos Def
7 years ago
Apr 30, 2006
The Sultan’s Elephant
The Sultan’s Elephant is a spectacle you’ve only imagined... Created by theatrical magicians Royal de Luxe, it tells the story of a sultan from far-off lands and his magical, time-travelling mechanical elephant. Forty feet high and 42 tonnes in weight, this beautiful creature will capture the hearts and minds of everyone who sees it.
The Sultan’s Elephant is played out over four days in the streets, squares and public spaces of central London. Whether you dip into it for three hours or follow its progress for three days, this breathtaking show will live in your memory forever.
I think.. we are going over the top here.. but hey.. London paid 1 million £ to host the free show from the 4th of May to the 7 in Trafalgar Square.
They are scared people will miss it.. (unlikely considering that' s about the size of a 5 storey building.. !)
Hypnotherapy
Ok.. I decided to stop smoking.. I'm trying Ippotherapy ( as I call it) ..
The lady.. F.. since I called her the first day saying I was interested she has been harrassing me with phone calls.. then I'm the stressed one!
Well.. yes my darlings.. sometimes I wonder.. London really changes you.. hipnotherapy.. what next.. drink wine spritzer in the Selfridges's restaurant.. or will I buy a pot of philadelphia in Harrods food at 300% the price..
Anyway.. run from work. go to see her.. She's late.. she apologies and then it all begins..
F: Do you have a doctor? not that anybody broke a leg, but it could happen
Well I though.. positive start.. want to stop smoking and get a broken leg.. MAH!!
F: Tell me about your personal life..
Where should I start.. I summarised it all in 3 sentences..then I though.. I might have been to harsh!!
F : do you like nature..
I mean.. me.. ?? ehm.. no.. she wanted me to say... yes sea, I'll think at the soothing waves or whatever.. I said no.. me the one that split up for an orangotango viewing..
Hence.. I became a puppet doll without strings..
God..
Apparently you have to assess if you are a HABIT smoker or a COMPULSIVE smoker..
To find this out.. the word HABIT was repeated to me about 20 times and my little finger.. ( yes.. the prophet.. the lifting of my little finger.. said.. I smoke for HABIT)
I think I smoke when I bored..
Anyway. my little finger.. also lifted at the number 3 from 1 to 4.. ( I think because I like number 3)
So my body like a puppet doll, my little finger lifting, me cracking a smile from time to time..
Result: smoke freely.. in 3 weeks ( that is what 3 meant) come back because my subconscious will be ready in 3 weeks..
Left the place, bought a packet of fags and smoked away.. Come on.. it was friday evening.. even my subconscious must have thought no way u'll stop tonight out of all nights..
If I'll stop smoking through this.. I'll believe in miracles..
More to come.. ( in 3 weeks!)
The lady.. F.. since I called her the first day saying I was interested she has been harrassing me with phone calls.. then I'm the stressed one!
Well.. yes my darlings.. sometimes I wonder.. London really changes you.. hipnotherapy.. what next.. drink wine spritzer in the Selfridges's restaurant.. or will I buy a pot of philadelphia in Harrods food at 300% the price..
Anyway.. run from work. go to see her.. She's late.. she apologies and then it all begins..
F: Do you have a doctor? not that anybody broke a leg, but it could happen
Well I though.. positive start.. want to stop smoking and get a broken leg.. MAH!!
F: Tell me about your personal life..
Where should I start.. I summarised it all in 3 sentences..then I though.. I might have been to harsh!!
F : do you like nature..
I mean.. me.. ?? ehm.. no.. she wanted me to say... yes sea, I'll think at the soothing waves or whatever.. I said no.. me the one that split up for an orangotango viewing..
Hence.. I became a puppet doll without strings..
God..
Apparently you have to assess if you are a HABIT smoker or a COMPULSIVE smoker..
To find this out.. the word HABIT was repeated to me about 20 times and my little finger.. ( yes.. the prophet.. the lifting of my little finger.. said.. I smoke for HABIT)
I think I smoke when I bored..
Anyway. my little finger.. also lifted at the number 3 from 1 to 4.. ( I think because I like number 3)
So my body like a puppet doll, my little finger lifting, me cracking a smile from time to time..
Result: smoke freely.. in 3 weeks ( that is what 3 meant) come back because my subconscious will be ready in 3 weeks..
Left the place, bought a packet of fags and smoked away.. Come on.. it was friday evening.. even my subconscious must have thought no way u'll stop tonight out of all nights..
If I'll stop smoking through this.. I'll believe in miracles..
More to come.. ( in 3 weeks!)
Never get involved with a mother. Should have learned from Oedipus....
So you know!
The Oedipus complex or conflict is a concept developed by Sigmund Freud to explain the origin of certain neuroses in childhood. It is defined as a male child's unconscious desire for the exclusive love of his mother. This desire includes jealousy towards the father and the unconscious wish for that parent's death. Later researchers used the term Electra complex for the same phenomenon in girls. (In Greek myth, Electra, daughter of Agamemnon, helped plan the murder of her mother.) Freud and his ideas were a primary inspiration for Carl Jung, who further described the concept and coined the term "complex".
The idea is based on the Greek myth of Oedipus, who kills his father Laius and marries his mother Jocasta. The Oedipus conflict, or Oedipus complex, was described as a state of psychosexual development and awareness first occurring around the age of 5 and a half years (a period known as the phallic stage in Freudian theory).
Lady Wolfe.. 29th AprilSo it is 7am this morning and I am woken by my phone. Someone has sent me a
multi-media message. I smirk to myself, thinking, ah, Sicily has had a good
night out and just returned home. ( yes.. true.. I must have ruined my reputation in my gold year.. now I reverted from the clubbing queen to the middle class ipnotherapautized person.. ) She will be sending me a picture of a
diamante hamster or a woman dressed as a playboy bunny. Hurrah for
enterrrrrtainment. I love my friends.
I open the message.
It is not from Annalisa. It is a picture of my date from Wednesday, smiling
prettily, with the following message:
Good morning lovely You. x.
My eyes are still full of sleep... my love my darling x J x
I have three instantaneous and conflicting reactions:
1. Shag me now! I am in love!
2. Oh-oh, we had a nice time but I wasn't THAT charming. I have a stalker.
How tragic, how lesbian.
3. Uh, she's sent the message to the wrong person. It wasn't for me.
I ask myself the now-familiar question. What would the Woolfsta do? I send a
text saying.
Good morning. Gosh! (she is the kind of woman who makes me say gosh rather
than, for example, fuck me)What a nice way of waking up. But I don't think
you really meant to send that to me, did you?
I get in the shower. I listen to my phone ring and think, I need coffee for
this. Cup in hand I phone her back and she answers on the first ring with a
stream of apologies, so of course I apologise back and after about five
minutes of cross-apologising we get to the point, which is that:
She went on a second date with someone in York on Thursday night (what?
what? who was looking after the children, that's what I want to know.
Someone should inform the social services immediately) and has fallen madly
in love with her. This is it. This is the One. And she is so 'terribly
terribly sorry' for being so careless and accidentally sending the text to
me instead of The One but she was just so excited.
I immediately say, 'No no, don't apologise, I am just pleased for you, that
you've found the right person. That's wonderful. That's what we're doing all
of this for' (god, I'm good)
She says, 'Well I think finding someone is just about luck.' (faster
pussycat, kill, kill).
I say, 'Ah, but what about agency. If it was all about luck then we wouldn't
need to do things like Soulmates. We would just be swept off our feet by the
right person without having to look for them.'
It's still only 7.30am by this point. I am hyped on coffee. I continue
recklessly, 'Yeah, it's like Greek tragedy, right? You don't know how much
of it is fate and how much of it is down to your own failings. Discuss.'
Silence.
I go for a hour-long run on the Heath. Cardiovascular exercise is going to
be vital if I am to keep up this internet dating business. My heart is going
to have to become a lot more robust....
Apr 28, 2006
Have only just stumbled out of bed!
I neglected also the biography of Lady Wolfe.. but for this.. which I have been authorised to share with you.. could win the Pulitzer..
Sorry Annaleeeeeeeesa for not replying before now.
Have only just stumbled out of bed!
Now.. can you imagine the curiosity of the community??? In shock.. we wait..
THE DATE:
Only joking!
Sorry I didn't report back until now. A busy day's writing in the
library.
And besides, Annalisa, you know I like to make you beg....
So. The date.
It all started well apart from an unfortunate incident with a mascara
wand when I was getting ready, which meant that my left eye was weeping
slightly throughout the night. I had to explain it to her, so she didn't think
that I was diseased. Now she either thinks I am endearingly clumsy (thanks
A : )) or just mal-coordinated.
She, on the other hand, is not mal-coordinated. She is one of those
women who is so fragile and tiny that if one were feeling low on self-esteem,
one might feel a bit like a lumbering cart-horse when standing next to her.
Obviously that wouldn't be a problem for me. Not with my great
confidence and inner poise. Inner poise. Yes. She definitely has that too. She
comes from a slightly bonkers family in Notting Hill, very posh with a
dominating mother (hmm, sounds familiar anyone?). Said mother insisted on her
training as a classical violinist so she went to some weird music boarding school
and then the Guildhall and that was supposed to be her career. Her mother
thought it was suitable for a nice girl. But then she had a rebellion
and decided to throw it all in and went off to study classics at university
instead. ( hardly a leap through in LIFE.. How naughty... from music to classic.. she should be punished!! wouldn't you?? )
Whereupon she fell in love with her Latin professor. Oh yes. Who was
much older than her.
Reader, she married him.
In a huge Greek Orthodox wedding (her father was Greek). ( So she couldn't understand what they were saying.. sad!)
They moved to Cambridge (we realised she was living around the corner
from me) then Oxford, then France, which is where things went tits up. Now, I
am not going to go into the rest of it, because discretion forbids it. She
might not want her whole life story splashed around on the internet. But
there's a story in it, believe me.
We had a lovely night but it was a bit weird. I felt extremely lucky
compared to her, and kind of protective yet intimidated at the same
time. We have a lot in common at the same time as being very very different. I
think being married for so long to a much older man has quite an effect. I
could not, for instance, imagine her dancing at The Cock. Or dealing with
Filippo.
I found myself behaving very well which meant that when I got home I had
to run around my sitting room a few times pretending to be an aeroplane, ( now.. here I was disappointed.. I was expecting.. dancing around in the lounge with green high heels with IPOD plugged in her ears!--not to disturb the neighbours--)
just to let off steam. I did not tell her about the events of the weekend.
She's about as moderate as I am extreme (we only had one glass of wine,
babies, you would be proud of me) but I kind of feel she's about to explode and
go wild. ( She ordered a small white wine glas.. lady W. a great large red one.. ) I mean, she's had to behave for the last 38 years it seems to me.
Could be one of those Michael Hutchence/Kylie moments:
'What's your hobby?'
'Corrupting Kylie.''
The evil part of me thinks that would be a lot of fun. However, one
wouldn't want to end up asphxyiated in a hotel room. Hmm.
But she did show me photos of her children and when she was about to get
off the tube she suddenly lurched over and gave me a big kiss. I think her
small glass of white wine had gone to her head.
( she even hid the cat/ rabbit?? what was it Ober.. and a$$band??)
So there we are. We'll see. But I think I need someone who can misbehave
a bit. Like, for instance, the next date, if I can swing it, with Polly
the PHD student who likes 'dancing in stripy socks and a Trilby and nothing
else' and 'spending Sundays rolling about in bed to a soundtrack of Nina
Simone.'
Now we're talking.....
later, taters,
Vestibule. xx
Sorry Annaleeeeeeeesa for not replying before now.
Have only just stumbled out of bed!
Now.. can you imagine the curiosity of the community??? In shock.. we wait..
THE DATE:
Only joking!
Sorry I didn't report back until now. A busy day's writing in the
library.
And besides, Annalisa, you know I like to make you beg....
So. The date.
It all started well apart from an unfortunate incident with a mascara
wand when I was getting ready, which meant that my left eye was weeping
slightly throughout the night. I had to explain it to her, so she didn't think
that I was diseased. Now she either thinks I am endearingly clumsy (thanks
A : )) or just mal-coordinated.
She, on the other hand, is not mal-coordinated. She is one of those
women who is so fragile and tiny that if one were feeling low on self-esteem,
one might feel a bit like a lumbering cart-horse when standing next to her.
Obviously that wouldn't be a problem for me. Not with my great
confidence and inner poise. Inner poise. Yes. She definitely has that too. She
comes from a slightly bonkers family in Notting Hill, very posh with a
dominating mother (hmm, sounds familiar anyone?). Said mother insisted on her
training as a classical violinist so she went to some weird music boarding school
and then the Guildhall and that was supposed to be her career. Her mother
thought it was suitable for a nice girl. But then she had a rebellion
and decided to throw it all in and went off to study classics at university
instead. ( hardly a leap through in LIFE.. How naughty... from music to classic.. she should be punished!! wouldn't you?? )
Whereupon she fell in love with her Latin professor. Oh yes. Who was
much older than her.
Reader, she married him.
In a huge Greek Orthodox wedding (her father was Greek). ( So she couldn't understand what they were saying.. sad!)
They moved to Cambridge (we realised she was living around the corner
from me) then Oxford, then France, which is where things went tits up. Now, I
am not going to go into the rest of it, because discretion forbids it. She
might not want her whole life story splashed around on the internet. But
there's a story in it, believe me.
We had a lovely night but it was a bit weird. I felt extremely lucky
compared to her, and kind of protective yet intimidated at the same
time. We have a lot in common at the same time as being very very different. I
think being married for so long to a much older man has quite an effect. I
could not, for instance, imagine her dancing at The Cock. Or dealing with
Filippo.
I found myself behaving very well which meant that when I got home I had
to run around my sitting room a few times pretending to be an aeroplane, ( now.. here I was disappointed.. I was expecting.. dancing around in the lounge with green high heels with IPOD plugged in her ears!--not to disturb the neighbours--)
just to let off steam. I did not tell her about the events of the weekend.
She's about as moderate as I am extreme (we only had one glass of wine,
babies, you would be proud of me) but I kind of feel she's about to explode and
go wild. ( She ordered a small white wine glas.. lady W. a great large red one.. ) I mean, she's had to behave for the last 38 years it seems to me.
Could be one of those Michael Hutchence/Kylie moments:
'What's your hobby?'
'Corrupting Kylie.''
The evil part of me thinks that would be a lot of fun. However, one
wouldn't want to end up asphxyiated in a hotel room. Hmm.
But she did show me photos of her children and when she was about to get
off the tube she suddenly lurched over and gave me a big kiss. I think her
small glass of white wine had gone to her head.
( she even hid the cat/ rabbit?? what was it Ober.. and a$$band??)
So there we are. We'll see. But I think I need someone who can misbehave
a bit. Like, for instance, the next date, if I can swing it, with Polly
the PHD student who likes 'dancing in stripy socks and a Trilby and nothing
else' and 'spending Sundays rolling about in bed to a soundtrack of Nina
Simone.'
Now we're talking.....
later, taters,
Vestibule. xx
A bottle of Chianti called Leonardo
So Annalisa. Shall I .... enterrrrrrtain you?! (yes.. because I get bored easily.. as you all know.. apparently that's the reason of my smoking.. by lifting my little finger.. the lady today predicted I gonna stop in 3 weeks.. more to follow)
Well it has been, shall we say, an interesting time since you left the
country. I am going to be brief about this because P and Molly have had to listen to me rant 7 nights out of the last 9 on the same themes and in two different countries so they are probably bored now.
But.
You remember the love of my life on the guardian soulmates website (let's
call her Nihil Obstat since that's what she calls herself on there) who I
agonised over for about 3 months? So I finally managed to do a profile and
email her and you told me well done.
So I go to Dublin that day and hugely excited about the prospect of
internet cafes and checking whether she has got back to me (although not as excited
as I was about going to the Guinnes factory, oh no). P, A and I
spend a drunken evening discussing where to go on our first date Tuscany,
my favourite plan, is too forward, apparently. A says he will have a
word with the Italian restaurant downstairs from their flat and the waiters will
treat me like a queen and all shall be well.
So far so good.
We get to our hotel in Galway (The G Spot), which, by the way, you would
love. My favourite thing about it is that it has wireless access so I can
plug in my computer (which I have brought just in case) and check my mail.
P and Molly stand by for moral support.
She did not email me back. No word from Nihil Obstat, not even one to tell
me that she doesn't like me.
I am devestated and even feel a bit like crying. I know this is ridiculous
but this is why I tend to avoid falling in love. Ask anyone who was in
Ireland with me. It is not pretty.
Anyway. We go and get food and drink quite a lot and I feel somewhat
cheered and by the time we have had champagne, red wine and then a couple of cheeky
whiskies ( like Virginia Wolfe would) for the road I am feeling strong and rather marvellous again.
Once everyone has gone to their rooms I decide that I'm not quite ready to go to
bed just yet but ooh, what is in the corner? The mini bar. Hooray! I decide
that 21 Euros is a perfectly reasonable amount to pay for a half bottle of
Chianti called Leonardo. I switch on the television (takes some time,
fiddly controls) and select a channel called 'Opera Babes.' I get into bed with my
computer and wine and get online.
My downfall. I knew that I wasn't allowed to email Nihil Obstat so instead
I decided to answer all the other girls who had contacted me but whom I had
ignored because she was my one true love. I may have been a bit more open
than I might have been without booze. I may have written things i didn't mean.
( she never does)
So. The next day people seemed to have liked my emails. Not necessarily the
people that I would have chosen. One of them was the mother of 5 and
because she had been nice to me (spit on Nihil Obstat!) and said she liked my photo
I appear to have been rather more saucy with her than I really should have
been and so now she REALLY likes me and because I carelessly said that no,
I wasn't shocked about the 5 children and in fact I wanted children of my own
so the more the merrier, ( this is why she straps them to herself in the library) she liked me even more and so we are going on a date tomorrow night. She is coming up from Oxford for it.
Mothers are the new rock & roll!
I mean, if a woman's been through childbirth she can do a relationship with
me, right?
(Ehm... why??)
I think this is called displacement. But there we go. Another displacement
occurred on Saturday night when I had the Brighton lezzers round for
dinner.
I had made my usual Saturday night agreement with P about no meat no
men, ( last time.. the vegetarian lady was cutting through a pork's leg with a wide knife.. and she run naked with a boy behind sheeps!)
and had thrown in not sleeping with *** as an additional rule. I did not
sleep with ***. Unfortunately, aided by the 8 bottles of wine between 4,
lager, a mini bottle of baileys and various other pharmaceutical products,
I proceeded to sleep with another friend who was not a good choice because
she was invited because she is sleeping with another one of my guests. BAD BAD BAD. I had to send her back into the other room because I felt guilty.
I can't go to Brighton because she is there and we would obviously bump
into each other.
So am going out with Mother Anna on Thursday, but only for dinner as I am
off the booze now in an effort to behave. About time, no? Want to come with
us?
And you? How were the 50 young girls in Sicily?! Ha! ( they were in the pictures below!!)
Well it has been, shall we say, an interesting time since you left the
country. I am going to be brief about this because P and Molly have had to listen to me rant 7 nights out of the last 9 on the same themes and in two different countries so they are probably bored now.
But.
You remember the love of my life on the guardian soulmates website (let's
call her Nihil Obstat since that's what she calls herself on there) who I
agonised over for about 3 months? So I finally managed to do a profile and
email her and you told me well done.
So I go to Dublin that day and hugely excited about the prospect of
internet cafes and checking whether she has got back to me (although not as excited
as I was about going to the Guinnes factory, oh no). P, A and I
spend a drunken evening discussing where to go on our first date Tuscany,
my favourite plan, is too forward, apparently. A says he will have a
word with the Italian restaurant downstairs from their flat and the waiters will
treat me like a queen and all shall be well.
So far so good.
We get to our hotel in Galway (The G Spot), which, by the way, you would
love. My favourite thing about it is that it has wireless access so I can
plug in my computer (which I have brought just in case) and check my mail.
P and Molly stand by for moral support.
She did not email me back. No word from Nihil Obstat, not even one to tell
me that she doesn't like me.
I am devestated and even feel a bit like crying. I know this is ridiculous
but this is why I tend to avoid falling in love. Ask anyone who was in
Ireland with me. It is not pretty.
Anyway. We go and get food and drink quite a lot and I feel somewhat
cheered and by the time we have had champagne, red wine and then a couple of cheeky
whiskies ( like Virginia Wolfe would) for the road I am feeling strong and rather marvellous again.
Once everyone has gone to their rooms I decide that I'm not quite ready to go to
bed just yet but ooh, what is in the corner? The mini bar. Hooray! I decide
that 21 Euros is a perfectly reasonable amount to pay for a half bottle of
Chianti called Leonardo. I switch on the television (takes some time,
fiddly controls) and select a channel called 'Opera Babes.' I get into bed with my
computer and wine and get online.
My downfall. I knew that I wasn't allowed to email Nihil Obstat so instead
I decided to answer all the other girls who had contacted me but whom I had
ignored because she was my one true love. I may have been a bit more open
than I might have been without booze. I may have written things i didn't mean.
( she never does)
So. The next day people seemed to have liked my emails. Not necessarily the
people that I would have chosen. One of them was the mother of 5 and
because she had been nice to me (spit on Nihil Obstat!) and said she liked my photo
I appear to have been rather more saucy with her than I really should have
been and so now she REALLY likes me and because I carelessly said that no,
I wasn't shocked about the 5 children and in fact I wanted children of my own
so the more the merrier, ( this is why she straps them to herself in the library) she liked me even more and so we are going on a date tomorrow night. She is coming up from Oxford for it.
Mothers are the new rock & roll!
I mean, if a woman's been through childbirth she can do a relationship with
me, right?
(Ehm... why??)
I think this is called displacement. But there we go. Another displacement
occurred on Saturday night when I had the Brighton lezzers round for
dinner.
I had made my usual Saturday night agreement with P about no meat no
men, ( last time.. the vegetarian lady was cutting through a pork's leg with a wide knife.. and she run naked with a boy behind sheeps!)
and had thrown in not sleeping with *** as an additional rule. I did not
sleep with ***. Unfortunately, aided by the 8 bottles of wine between 4,
lager, a mini bottle of baileys and various other pharmaceutical products,
I proceeded to sleep with another friend who was not a good choice because
she was invited because she is sleeping with another one of my guests. BAD BAD BAD. I had to send her back into the other room because I felt guilty.
I can't go to Brighton because she is there and we would obviously bump
into each other.
So am going out with Mother Anna on Thursday, but only for dinner as I am
off the booze now in an effort to behave. About time, no? Want to come with
us?
And you? How were the 50 young girls in Sicily?! Ha! ( they were in the pictures below!!)
Bridget Jones for Lez..
Now.. normal people.. don't need to refrain themselves.. she does..
This is an example of a drastic measure. Not only she goes every morning to the library to force herself to write the book.. she know challenge herself with a baby strapped to her..
We tried to tempt her with Brighton
Brighton. Is dangerous. You know what happens when I meet the Brighton
lezzers. And they will be out in force on the Bank Holiday. I've never had
a Bank Holiday weekend in Brighton when I've managed to get back to London
before Wednesday. But maybe that's just me. Anyway, I will have a small
baby strapped to my chest (don't ask) and have promised myself to write 10,000
words over the holiday so I might have to retreat from the party...
But will clearly meet up with you all at some point to tell you how the
date with the mother of 5 went. Oh yes, Annalisa, that's 5. All under the age
of 12. I may have made a mistake and accidentally found myself a new family.
( our advice was.. whatever you do.. please do not decide to strap also all of them at your chest in the library!!)
Hey ho, my lovelies, hey ho!
This is an example of a drastic measure. Not only she goes every morning to the library to force herself to write the book.. she know challenge herself with a baby strapped to her..
We tried to tempt her with Brighton
Brighton. Is dangerous. You know what happens when I meet the Brighton
lezzers. And they will be out in force on the Bank Holiday. I've never had
a Bank Holiday weekend in Brighton when I've managed to get back to London
before Wednesday. But maybe that's just me. Anyway, I will have a small
baby strapped to my chest (don't ask) and have promised myself to write 10,000
words over the holiday so I might have to retreat from the party...
But will clearly meet up with you all at some point to tell you how the
date with the mother of 5 went. Oh yes, Annalisa, that's 5. All under the age
of 12. I may have made a mistake and accidentally found myself a new family.
( our advice was.. whatever you do.. please do not decide to strap also all of them at your chest in the library!!)
Hey ho, my lovelies, hey ho!
Hamsters... Again...
Well.. today I picked up a phonecall at work..
they said hi.. can I speak to Mr. Hampshire..
I didn't understand.. I thought he said Hamster..
so I replied.. sorry this is a bank, we don't sell hamsters.. but we have many working here.
they said hi.. can I speak to Mr. Hampshire..
I didn't understand.. I thought he said Hamster..
so I replied.. sorry this is a bank, we don't sell hamsters.. but we have many working here.
This was the party in sicily
I won't comment..
PS: the people in circle weren't smoking, they were just sitting there..
A damigiana di vino.. saved me..
GINA & PINA
It sounds like a cartoon and in reality they are..
Pina, doing was I'm supposed to do, stay next to mamy..
Thank you. But thanks for making me have a culinary orgasm.
Gina ordered Tortelloni con Ricotta as her mother used to make.. And Pina.. made a wish a reality.
They set a test for me in Sicily: know as many people as Gina knows in Messina.. Unrealistic.. it's impossible to enter a shop, walk in the street without her been stopped and greeted everywhere..
And she doesn't queue..
The recipe: COMMUNITY I promise I'll make them for you!!!
TORTELLONI DI RICOTTA (dosi per 6 persone o per 4 buone forchette!)
Per il ragù alla bolognese:
Ingredienti:
1. 200 gr di tritato di maiale
2. 200 gr di tritato di vitello
3. 1 cipolla medio/grossa
4. 1 gambetto di sedano
5. 1 carota media
6. 1 rametto di rosmarino
7. _ bicchiere di vino rosso
8. noce moscata e sale q.b.
9. olio di oliva
10. passata di pomodoro (1 bottiglia da 750 gr)
11. pepe nero (solo se è gradito!)
(Io aggiungo qualche seme di finocchio, quelli che si mettono nella salsiccia, e qualche nodo di salsiccia)
Preparazione:
Tritare tutte le verdure insieme, metterle in una casseruola e farne asciugare l’acqua a fiamma bassa, aggiungere l’olio e fare rosolare il tutto fino a quando la cipolla è dorata, aggiungere la carne tritata e fare rosolare bene bene, aumentare la fiamma e aggiungere il vino a pentola scoperta, fare evaporare totalmente il vino. Aggiungere la passata di pomodoro, la noce moscata, il sale e fare cuocere a fiamma bassissima per almeno 1 ora.
Va bene qualunque ragù di carne diverso da questo!
PER IL RIPIENO DEI RAVIOLI:
Ingredienti:
1. 500 gr. di ricotta fresca (piuttosto densa)
2. 1 noce moscata
3. 1 uovo
4. 250 gr di parmigiano
5. sale q.b.
6. 1 uovo
7. 250 gr di parmigiano
8. sale q.b.
Preparazione:
Mettere la ricotta in una terrina e lavorare, con una forchetta, a freddo con tutti gli ingredienti fino ad ottenere un impasto piuttosto omogeneo. Alla fine il composto deve essere piuttosto compatto se non è tale aggiungere del parmigiano. Assaggiando si devono distinguere il gusto della ricotta, del parmigiano e della noce moscata.
PER LA PASTA:
Ingredienti:
1. 250 gr. di farina bianca e 250 gr. di farina di semola
2. 3 uova
3. 1 cucchiaio di olio di oliva
4. sale q.b.
5. circa 2 e/o 3 cucchiai di acqua
Preparazione:
Disporre la farina a fontana su un tavolo o dentro una capiente scodella, aggiungere gli ingredienti e lavorare il tutto per circa 15 minuti. L’impasto deve risultare molto asciutto.
Se tende a non compattarsi aggiungere pochissima acqua un po’ per volta o meglio bagnarsi le mani e inumidire la pasta.
Se tende ad incollarsi fra le mani aggiungere farina sulla spianatoia e incorporarla fino a quando l’impasto si asciuga.
Tagliare un pezzo di pasta grande circa come una media arancia, spianarla con il matterello fino a uno spessore sottilissimo 1 o 2 mm. Formandone una striscia larga circa 15 cm. Adagiarvi il composto di ricotta (grosso circa quanto una grossa noce) lasciando tra un pezzo e l’altro una distanza di 6 o 8 cm. Richiudere la pasta su se stessa incorporandovi la ricotta, con le mani fare pressione attorno al ripieno per far si che i due lembi di pasta si incollino tra di loro. Tagliare con la rondella della pasta lasciando un margine di pasta tra un raviolo e l’altro per evitare che si aprano durante la cottura o tagliare con un adeguato stampino per ravioloni. Se hai lo stampo devi adeguare lo spessore del ripieno al buco dello stampo!
Finiti i ravioli vanno cotti un po’ alla volta (non più di 10), vanno usciti con la schiumarola e messi in uno scolapasta, subito vanno conditi in un piatto da portata con uno strato di ragù e una spolverata di parmigiano.
I ravioli crudi devono essere cotti in tempi brevi altrimenti la ricotta tende a bagnare la pasta e li attacca, strappandoli, al piano di appoggio che comunque è sempre bene spolverare con un poco di farina.
BUON APPETITO
The hair are back.. Ok I know hair is singular
But when you have to cope with losing them, then you count one by one.
Fight warrior fight!! Even if I don't accept that you put me in this world, I admire you.
TVB
PS: I think I have this facial expression at times.
Sorry babies didn't mean to neglect you..
So?
so my ass.. somebody can reply...
shall I start from the beginning or from the end.. I don't know let's see how it goes..
Been home for a week, then work.
Probably from the beginning.. SICILY
Everytime I go back it seems to be to jump in another dimension. A different perspective of the living..
What seems absurd to me.. it's possible there and what it's normal to me is unrealistic there.
Anyhow.. manage to come back.
Italy is still shaven by the election.. I haven't touched the argument here, because it's so absurd, so corrupt there are so many loopholes that it's hardly democrazy..
I only say that the gesture of D'Alema was the one of a gentleman and I think Rome as for Sindaco the only nice politician in Italy..
Politics tick
I think this picture depicts the issue in Sicily.
They vote right, they hate the north and they don't know the first rule that teach in Italian,
in front of a P or a B you place a M not an N.
I think it says it all
so my ass.. somebody can reply...
shall I start from the beginning or from the end.. I don't know let's see how it goes..
Been home for a week, then work.
Probably from the beginning.. SICILY
Everytime I go back it seems to be to jump in another dimension. A different perspective of the living..
What seems absurd to me.. it's possible there and what it's normal to me is unrealistic there.
Anyhow.. manage to come back.
Italy is still shaven by the election.. I haven't touched the argument here, because it's so absurd, so corrupt there are so many loopholes that it's hardly democrazy..
I only say that the gesture of D'Alema was the one of a gentleman and I think Rome as for Sindaco the only nice politician in Italy..
Politics tick
I think this picture depicts the issue in Sicily.
They vote right, they hate the north and they don't know the first rule that teach in Italian,
in front of a P or a B you place a M not an N.
I think it says it all
Apr 11, 2006
Because invisible woman=D often makes my day
Community!
Have a very happy Passover, although I’m sure it doesn’t mean that much to you… but maybe now it does- the Passover dinner was Jesus’s Last Supper. Yup. And given that he probably ate matzo, he most likely died constipated. Just think about this if you accidentally find yourselves on death row- do not ask for it as your last meal!
Click below, although this probably will make way more sense to Hober, P and Molly…
And have a very Happy Easter! Hide some eggs, eat chocolate and ham, think about resurrection (no, Fil, not erection) but remember, Mel Gibson is an asshole!