Monday, June 30, 2008

 

Jack the Dripper

Reminded by a picture in the TLS that I was reminded of Jack the Dripper by the West window of Winchester cathedral. This old stained glass had been trashed during the civil war and afterwards the peices were stuck back into the window, without any attempt being made to reconstitute the original picture of St Winchester and his cow or whatever. The result was both attractive and very modern looking - reminding me of one of the drips of said Jack the Dripper. Modern before their time.

But stinks on the road-over-rail bridge on the way to Cheam. Sweet sickly smell. Probably the ivy coming into flower. But so moved to go to the butcher for a bit of rump steak to try a new sort of stew for lunch. Cut steak into small strips, maybe 2cm by 1cm by 5mm, cut across the grain. Brown in butter. Add finely chopped onion. Some minutes later add finely chopped tomato. Towards the end add some mushrooms. Serve with broad beans and rice. I was a bit anxious that the tomato flavour was going to be too strong - they certainly smelt quite strong - but as it turned out they made a strong contribution to the texture (a very important matter to my mind) while their flavour was nicely damped down by the mushrooms.

Two vegetable factoids. First, I learn that elderly mushrooms can ooze a sort of green jelly stuff. Maybe that's the Mr S 'taste the differance' ingredient being released. Second, I learn that broad beans cost as much as steak. That is to say around 4 pounds of beans which when shelled gave enough beans for the two of us cost around £6. They were also rather pale and of very mixed size. Not as good as what I used to grow on my allotments - this being just the time of year when we would be overrun with the things.

And to finish up, a literary factoid. It turns out that there is a further connection between the Joyce and the Theroux from Honiton. The BH found out from Theroux that Molly from Ulyssees was born and lost her virginity in Gibralter - the Theroux being a Mediterranean travel book. A factoid which can be confirmed by perusal of the somewhat obscure last section of Ulysses. Somewhat shocked by some of the language therein despite my mature years and the language at TB. And as it happens we have a neighbour who was born there too. What a small world.

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