Fashionable Finds

For the past two weeks our son, Zack, was given a wonderful opportunity to be independent by gaining some work experience in Liverpool at one of a series of cinemas owned by his great uncle.  David and I were a little worried to begin with but we secretly enjoyed this feeling of parental concern – having missed out on so much of his world over the years we possibly ramped up the feelings of anxiety a little, but the boy is eighteen years old, turning nineteen in under a week now, and so not really a 'boy' at all anymore…. 

Of course, the older you get the more you realise just how young you were at any age prior to the one you are living today and nobody could have explained to me that at eighteen I was actually still a "teen", even though it's quite obvious from meaning of the word that you are indeed exactly that.  In order to honor our son's naturally mature outlook and approach to life, however, I will from hereon in refer to him as "the lad".  This is partly because he has an insatiable desire for all things sport (but strangely, isn't really into Rugby… dammit!) but also because, like me at that age, he has a penchant for items of clothing that are also otherwise known as "labels".

A few weeks ago, after the lads went on a roadtrip to Derby, we spent a day travelling to Bicester and back  (oddly enough, the placename is pronounced "Bister", like Leicester is not "Lay-chester" or "Lie-sesster", merely"Lester"… and while we're at it, the river "Thames" is pronounced "Tems").  My boss, bless her, had mentioned that this was the place to go for the purchasing of clothes that are labular in origin (yes, okay, that word does not have anything to do with fashion but it truly sounds like it should).

On arrival at Bicester, however, it was raining and it soon became apparent that the shopping centre may have been built as an attempt to emulate a sweet village but of course ended up being just a series of shops on a fake cobblestone street (so pretty much nothing like it at all).  The lad was at first a little nervous but with our encouragement he soon got into the whole shopping experience. 

We cajoled him into buying a charcoal grey trenchcoat and then he got a smart purple jacket-coat which neither David nor myself would ever in a million years have purchased for him – mainly because what is now acceptable fashion for an eighteen year old to wear was certainly not acceptable when David and I were his age.

So everybody managed to carry a bag in the end.  David was the hardest to buy for, but in the end we convinced him to purchase a pair of light blue trousers that only he could pull off and I found a coat that the lads convinced me had my name written all over it.  As a result of these purchases, even though they were all reduced by 50%-75% off, our bank account was £500 lighter – although this did include a delicious meal at Carluccios, which, to our delight, we discovered has a complete menu dedicated to gluten free fare.

We managed to devour a starter platter of olives and cheese and oatcakes with other anti-pasta while Zack chowed down on some breaded scampi.  For our mains, Zack had the bolognaise, David the carbonara and I the mushroom pasta.  I was hoping for something creamy but instead three different mushrooms (including the oyster variety… superb!) were reduced in a simmering stock along with onions and garlic, and this was tossed in oily gluten-free pasta.  I could not get over the intense flavours that were produced with every mouthful.  This truly was something I wanted to try and cook up at home, and I made a note of every ingredient I could see and taste. 

We ended the meal with Eton Mess,a Cheese platter and Ice-cream.  I'd never had Eton Mess before (at Carluccios this is unimaginatively called Raspberry Meringue with cream, but they displayed their giant sized meringues as you entered the restaurant, so perhaps there really was no need to pay homage to that crazy overpriced scholastic tradition after all).  Whilst there, Zack searched the internet and then informed us that we have our very own Carluccio's in Watford.  That was news to David and I but welcome news all the same - it is the perfect place for a treat and we have long given up attempting to eat at establishments when we know that we could produce a better quality and tasting meal from scratch in our own home.  Why spend money on the mark-up only to feel disappointed with laissez-faire fare?  Carluccios most definitely ranks as a place that can cook as good as, if not better, than we can ourselves.

Now normally David and I don't buy designer clothes.  We once bought a pair of Hugo Boss suits for £200 each but these lasted a good ten years.  Coats are also worth spending a good amount of money on -again, they tend to last (hence Zack's expensive coats).  Was it worth spoiling our son?  Well of course - those years filled with our absence require a little bit of a splash with our cash, even if it is just to make us as missing parents feel a little better, a little less guilty (annoyingly, even though circumstances were often beyond our control with regard to access to our children, we still feel guilty about it to this very day) a little more like real dads.  These are silly (and expensive) illusions, of course, and our son knows we love him dearly and no amount of clothing will make up for the lost moments of course and everyone knows this, however, Zack did look very smart and quite happy with his purchases and we all enjoyed ourselves regardless of having that knowledge of the reality of the situation.

David, being a typical Gemini, loves fashion.  Myself, a Sagittarian, am more interested in the practicality of clothing.  Yes, there was a period when all I would wear was Calvin Klein underwear but this was more about how you looked when you were undressing (I was going for sexy at the time) and although I also purchased the jeans and the t-shirts, I soon got bored for being a walking billboard for Mr Klein (and paying through the nose to do so).  My parents attempted to create a middle-class environment for us as we were growing up, David's parents were often living on the breadline.  My mother owned a sewing machine and experimented wildly in the seventies with various fabrics (stretchy ones), David's mother received bags of clothing from wealthier members of the Catholic community.

So given the above, it should come as no surprise that David is the one that does the clothes shopping.  Even before we stopped the intake of gluten into our bodies we were always pretty much the same with regard to our clothes sizes.  This meant that we could share a wardrobe which is quite handy for a number of very practical reasons.  I, of course, balk at the mark-up on 'fashionable' items of clothing.  I remember when I worked at Canary Wharf and was starting to earn (what I then considered) a reasonable salary that I had a look at some of the items in the shop windows that caught my eye.  Some of the shirts, for example, where I was thinking "now that looks snazzy and I could see myself that" were simply ridiculous when it came to the price tag - a couple of weeks worth of my shopping bill or the price of a small electronic device - it just did not make any sense. 

On top of that, fashion requires followers, and half the time the recycled colours and nonsense that we were being fed looked ridiculous.  So pastels are in this summer?  Who cares??  I hate pastels.  David hates pastels.  They make us look pasty.  We will never wear them.  There was a time when darker shirt colours were all the rage, and shiny darker ties were worn with them.  This was the year that I wore ties.  Once the shirts started to go to pastel shades or begin to look like an architect's doodle with all that cross-hatching and lines a criss-crossing, I stopped wearing ties and started wearing pure black shirts again.

David, being the Gemini, still wears whatever he finds and thinks looks good on him.  Sometimes he gets this wrong (according to my taste, and rarely, to be honest) but most of the time he pulls off the most amazing outfits and because he knows I would get very annoyed if he spent our grocery bill on one item of clothing, he shops at thrift stores (or dead men's stores, as we now call them).  They truly are wonderful.  People deliver their unwanted clothing to them, he carefully sifts through the items and we end up with a wonderfully eclectic wardrobe.  I do not give a hoot whether something is in season or out – if I like it and it looks good on me, I will wear it (probably till it falls to pieces).  I'm certainly that way with shoes (or boots, as I prefer to wear).  I like to buy 2 or 3 pairs of the same shoe.  This way, I give them a rest while at the same time wearing something that I know I feel comfortable in (and I secretly enjoy the fact that I'm actually NOT wearing the same thing every day, even though other's may think I am).

So last Saturday, as it was a beautiful day and worthy of a walk, David mentioned that there was a particular cook book that he wanted to show me in one of the local Dead Men's Stores.  I was immediately interested, of course, I mean, you can never own too many cook books (I keep telling myself I don't own enough to fill a room…. yet!).  So off we wandered and at explored the various stores.  Our high street has a number of them all bundled together in one section, which makes it very convenient to check out the bargains (and help the various charities, of course).  Sadly, when we finally got to the store David could no longer locate the book – somebody had surely purchased it.

He was annoyed, but placated himself by assuming that it just wasn't meant to be.  I found a book on chicken, but after we both looked it over, it was clear that it was not really worthy of purchase – it's quite astonishing just how many terribly bad cookbooks there are out there!  The store was filled with various attempts to teach folks how to cook the silliest stuff.  We were very excited indeed when we discovered a MacFarlane doll of Kaneda from the cult classic Manga film Akira for only 5.99!  I nearly had to push an old man out of the way to get to it (although I did say excuse me…) but that doll was mine (or ours…. as is nearly everything that we own, not just with regards to our wardrobe).

As we wandered back down the high street, I spied a book in the shop window that caught my eye due to the large red font and the words "the cooking book" (America, try here).  I mentioned this to David who got very excited indeed!  Here was the cookbook he was after!  Sure enough, the staff of PDSA had moved it to the window which is why he couldn't find it on the shelf, and we rushed back inside to purchase it for a bargain price of £5!  Once we got back home I could immediately see why this book had measured so strongly on David's radar – it was such a wonderful layout – sections broken down into ingredients (I do love a well ordered cookbook) and every section with an introduction filled with thumbnails of recipe ideas. 

We researched the author and discovered that she wasn't a famous chef or TV personality but was instead just a lover of cooking and good food – these are always the best writers of cook books because without the actual love, you could end up with a bunch of recipes that the author has not even bothered to try out themselves and you tear your hair out as you serve up something that in no way resembles the author's description or photographs and, of course, somehow end up blaming yourself for the miserable failure.  I particularly fell in love with the mini insert in the front cover that is a small booklet of shopping lists for every recipe in the main book.... very thoughtful, Victoria Blashford-Snell and very, very handy indeed.

So whilst David set about cooking us a late lunch (sea food stir fry, while the lad was away, we got to eat prawns as he is sadly allergic to shellfish) I perused the pages of this latest purchase to find us a suitable meal for dinner, something creamy, something that used the mushrooms.. .and of course, I remembered Carluccio's and how I wanted my mushroom pasta to be – and there it was, the recipe I needed, on page 250.  With only slight modification, I made it like this:

Melt 60g of butter in a pan and cook 1 finely chopped onion and about 2-4 crushed garlic cloves until they are lightly browned and softened.  Add 450g mixed chopped mushrooms (I used Oyster, Shitake and Chestnut) and cook for 10 mins.  Then pour in 120ml white wine and a pinch of grated nutmeg.  Cover and simmer for 5 mins.  Stir in 300 ml creme fraiche (or sour cream... or even cream cheese mixed with water to a creamy consistency if you prefer).  Add 120g smoked salmon (or smoked tofu?) and season to taste.  Mix 1 tbsp cornflour with some water and stir into the sauce, then stir till it thickens.  Stir in some chopped tarragon (or parsley... or both).  Serve on toast, or with oily pasta spirals.... lovely!