Once upon a time I was a young woman about London town. This is a picture of me in the Gasworks in Fulham (RIP), wearing my then favourite dress from Top Shop (RIP) which I wore with high top, pink Converse trainers and pearls, because you know, style. I’m with two Canadian friends; Carma, now a successful actress living in western Canada, and Kelly, a then drama student who now lives and teaches in Nunavut somewhere near the Arctic and thinks -20 degrees Fahrenheit isn’t cold. In this picture she had just had her head shaved for charity. She then proceeded to stand on the table and and sing Stormy Weather in her gorgeous velvet voice. That song and the ‘art’ in the loos are my take-away memories of the Gasworks, a notoriously terrible restaurant on a corner between Fulham and Chelsea, which was still, even in those hyper moneyed days of the late 80s, a little rough and sleazy around the edges.
It was a dark place, filled with stuffed stuff, hanging stuff, stuff in glass cases, sometimes Mick Jagger, Victorian porn, some involving goats, and absolutely terrible food. I don’t recall meeting Shirl the ‘chef’, or her husband Jack in his silk stockings, or indeed eating anything although I probably did - I was less fastidious about food in those days. It was a memorable night anyway, aided of course by quantities of nasty alcohol that cost more than my week’s wages (which by the way were pretty good in those days). The Gasworks is now deceased, its racing green exterior swapped for bright white Fulham standard frontage, its dusty stuffed things, pornographic chess set and canned soup replaced by chicly bland flats with interior design by ‘Ennui in Beige’.
Everyone and their cat is griping about the weather, the lack of summer, the rain, the icy north wind rushing through the kitchen when one opens the door to let the cat in because she’s forgotten how to use the cat flap, the endless cloud. I long for a soft southern breeze, perhaps with the scent of a squeezed lemon. Elsewhere round the world they have bigger weather issues to worry about so it feels churlish to go on about being cold in July, but there it is, on I go.
I have just voted. I wasn’t given a gold star, or anything. I went in clutching my photo id, prepared to have a fight about whether it was the right kind or not which did not materialise, put my X in the chosen box and left. I really did want fanfare of some sort but none being forthcoming I treated myself to a bacon roll instead. It didn’t quite make up for the crashing sense of disappointment that this election is engendering but it was very nice. Anyway - I voted for the climate in the hope that it would hear me and produce some gentle warmth on this side of the country. Doesn’t seemed to have worked so far.
Yesterday I helped with preparation for an event for the Sustainable Food Trust at Bwlchwernen Farm, near Lampeter. It is Patrick and Becky Holden’s organic dairy farm in the most glorious Welsh countryside you can imagine. The event is to do with a ‘Beacon Farms’ project, beyond that I have little knowledge, and neither it seems does anyone else because like so much in the world of organics the event itself seems to be organically manifesting itself. The food will be magnificent because Barny Haughton is at the helm and obviously because I will be back there on Saturday to wave my wand over it too. Many of the great, good, weird and wonderful in the world of sustainable food and farming will be there, cheerfully camping in the rain and discussing how to get food education onto the curriculum, among other things I am sure, and I know Owen Sheers will be there which is exciting (little aside : his play, Pink Mist, was produced in Bristol with choreography by my good friend George Mann of Theatre Ad Infinitum - anything by them is worth seeing - make a note of that) and means that someone somewhere definitely knows what the plan is.
Because of the standing, chopping, washing and stirring I am sitting writing this with an electric massage thing on my lower back - it’s really nice and does help a little with the aches induced by being my feet all day. It doesn’t help the hands though - arthritis is a bastard, that’s all there is to it. This is the reason I gave up catering work. That and finally realising that being a one woman band in hospitality, employing people, dealing with VAT, food price hikes and endless mindless bureaucracy is an unmitigated nightmare. The actual cooking is what I love, working in a team, making wonderful tasting food from fresh picked ingredients, visual and actual feasts. But now it hurts to do it so I need two days to recover before I can go back and do some more. It’s quite depressing and if I dwell on it I get really sad and sorry for self which we all know is pointless and honestly-Elizabeth-get-a-grip-and-snap-out-of-it.
RECIPE
Here is recipe from back in the day when I wrote little bits and pieces for a fantastic online magazine in Bristol called the Everyday Magazine - after a short-ish hiatus it is now wonderfully back and accepting pitches from writers once more.
This one of the best condiments ever - I have used it in endless ways, added to shakshuka, potato salad, roast chicken, as dip with crudités or crisps - use it any way you like, make it your own with additions of mint, or fresh red chilli - it lifts anything it touches so zhug it up!
Zhug
Zhug (Hebrew: סְחוּג , romanized: s'ḥug), sahawiq (Yemeni Arabic: سَحاوِق) or bisbas (بسباس) is a hot sauce originating in Yemeni cuisine. In other countries of the Arabian Peninsula it is also called mabboj (Arabic: معبوج ). - a mixed up Middle Eastern recipe, although it seems clear it did originate in Yemen.
Ingredients
1 very big handful of coriander (60g) with stalks, roughly chopped
1 big handful of flat leaf parsley (40g), woody stalks removed, roughly chopped
10-20g pickled jalapenos (add more or less depending on your taste for heat)
2 cloves garlic, peeled
½ tsp ground cumin
½ tsp ground coriander
3 tbsp white wine vinegar
3 tbsp good olive oil
Method
Whizz it all in a blender or food processor. If you don’t have one then chop all the dry ingredients together on a board, adding a little salt to help get the juices flowing, until the mix is becoming a pulp. Then put into a container, add liquids and mix well.
Few more things:
Some recipes for this call for zest of orange to be added, I think lemon works better but it’s up to you and it’s also perfect without either.
Try and buy herbs from greengrocers where possible because you can get big bunches and no plastic is involved - the quality is usually much higher too.
This will keep in the fridge for a few days.
Zhug looks lovely as does Liz in younger days (and still does)!