Month: April 2013

A fact-finding trip to Glasgow

 

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I’ve always been curious about Glasgow. Passed through, never stayed, heard good things.

This week I finally had a chance to explore.

What I found was Scotland gearing up for a big year in 2014 and lots of potential angles for a work-hungry freelancer.

The Commonwealth Games is the hook for July next year with an accompanying (as yet undisclosed) cultural programme from this summer onwards.

Then there’s the Ryder Cup coming to Gleneagles in September next year and events as part of the Homecoming 2014 festival throughout the year.

While this visit was very much a fact-finding trip, I came away with lots of food for thought and I hope I’ll be back soon to do some more individual research.

But meanwhile, and in the spirit of Glaswegian irreverence, here are ten things I learnt from 48 hours in Glasgow:

  • The job title Legacy Manager does not just exist in the TV programme 2012
  • The Commonwealth Games features 17 sports of which lawn bowls is one of the Scotland’s strongest medal hopes
  • A squished Curly Wurly provides a surprisingly vivid metaphor for the formation of metamorphic rock in the Loch Lomond and Trossachs National Park
  • The top notes of citrus in natural beauty products made on the isle of Aran can the effects of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)
  • To caramelise your scallops perfectly, don’t shake the pan (Gleneagles Hotel Executive chef Alan Gibb pictured above)
  • Owls (Falconry display pictured below) don’t want to be mates. For them, it’s strictly business
  • A drop of water will bring out essential oils and flavours in a whisky tasting. Anyone who says it’s diluting the whisky is talking pish
  • There are five Unesco Cities of Music including Glasgow. The next nearest is Ghent
  • The toilets in Citizen M hotel rooms glow Ghostbusters green while you’re trying to sleep
  • Charles Rennie Mackintosh, the ubiquitous Glaswegian doyen of the Arts & Crafts movement, believed artists should work according to the following mantra:

“Reason informed by emotion, expressed in beauty, elevated by earnestness, lightened by humour.”

What have you learnt about Glasgow from a recent stay? What’s your favourite hidden-gem place for me to discover on my next visit?

Post your comments below.

Gazetteer

See Glasgow

Visit Scotland – Glasgow

Glasgow City of Music

House for an Art Lover

The Gleneagles Hotel

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Story of the week: The best steak in Buenos Aires

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* This is the sixth post in a new weekly series, highlighting stories from my travel-writing archive – many with no link online. I’m running them here in full. Subscribe to posts at this website for more.

I’d just never cut it as a gaucho. While the notion of life as an enigmatic loner, wandering the Pampas of Argentina with only a sturdy knife and a trusty steed for company, may have a romantic frisson, in reality I’m useless on horseback, have no aptitude for cattle ranching and don’t cut an attractive figure in the traditional loon pants known as bombachas.

In one of the gaucho’s traditional skills, however, I do have a fighting chance of cutting the mustard: preparing a good steak.

Like any meat-eating male with a bag of briquettes and a penchant for scorching cocktail sausages to within an inch of their lives, I’m keen to my flex barbecue muscles come the first hint of summer.

Now, thanks to a trip to Buenos Aires and a crash-course in the fine art of the grill at a legendary steakhouse, I can hold my head up high as a bone-fide grillmaster, a skill steeped in the meat-handling heritage of Argentina’s gaucho tradition.

So it is on a sunny Saturday afternoon in Buenos Aires we gather at La Cabaña, located in the city’s fashionable Recoleta district, for the three-hour Argentine Barbecue Master course. This Buenos Aires institution, reopened in October 2003 having been acquired by hotel and leisure company Orient Express, last year celebrated the 70th anniversary of the opening of the original restaurant in 1935.

La Cabaña works with over 3,000kg of top-quality meat per month, sourced from 75 farms in the wet pampas region around the city. The meat is hung for 30 days to make it more tender and sealed in plastic wrapping before delivery to La Cabaña.

The most popular cut of steak in the restaurant is the Baby Beef (a 14oz cut off the rib, similar to a sirloin or Porterhouse), which retails for around £8.50. The King’s Beef, a new 43.9oz rib eye named after King Carlos of Spain, is now on the menu at £20.

Beyond the understated facade, an open kitchen gives way to an opulent dining room with a series of private rooms tucked away in discrete alcoves. Modern artworks adorn the walls and two giant cows guard the entrance, while the centrepiece is a traditional Argentine asado, an open fire of glowing coals over which cuts of meat are cooked on a spit.

While we prepare for class, the staff, attired in sleek, black uniforms and going about their business with a cosmopolitan air, busy themselves by preparing the covers for the evening service.

The course combines theoretical tuition on the different cuts of meat with a practical application of barbecue techniques. Hence, before we are let loose with a hot grill and a huge tenderloin, we first eschew the aprons for notepads and pens.

Grill chef Daniel Leguisamo starts by examining the 19 most commonly used cuts of meat used in Argentina (from a possible 27), far more than other meat-eating countries.

As we group around a pin-the-tail-on-the-cow-style display board, Daniel points out how several cuts would not even make it onto French menus while, in keeping with the gaucho tradition, every part of the animal in la Cabaña’s kitchen.

Different cuts have different flavours and the wood-fired oven, fired with quebracho blanco, a slow-burning wood from the northeast of Argentina, ensures that the meat cooks slowly, maintaining its flavour and absorbing some of the distinct perfume of the wood.

After a round of choripan, bread toasted over the grill, stuffed with a grilled sausage and accompanied by a glass of Argentina’s favourite varietal, Malbec, we wrap up with the ten commandments of a good grill, notably that the meat is cooked from room temperature and the embers moved to distribute the heat evenly during cooking.

Aprons on and hands scrubbed, we then start gently with the practical session, the preparation of the sweetmeats, kidneys and blood sausages to whet the appetite and test our ability to weather the furnace-like fury of the grill.

Suitably warmed up, head chef Damian Gelati rolls up his sleeves and takes me on one side. It’s time to go to work.

With the smell of sizzling meat whipping my gastric juices to a frenzy, we move onto the house speciality: the lomo, or tenderloin medallion, also known as the Argentine diamond. Under Damian’s watchful eye, I remove the fat with a viciously sharp knife, cut off a 400kg portion and pummel it furiously to soften the meat.

“Imagine it’s the face of someone you hate,” smiles Damian and he sets about the meat with bare knuckles and a vaguely demented look in his eye.

He continues: “There are two secrets to preparing the perfect steak. You have to maintain the temperature of the grill at a steady 120 degrees centigrade and only turn the meat once during cooking so as not to loose the flavour.”

The cooking itself is more straightforward. We first coat the grill in fat, rubbing the grease into the ridges to avoid sticking, and then sprinkle salt onto the meat. “The meat is cooked plain, not coated in sauces like they do in the United States,” he winks with a note of pride.

We cook the steak for five minutes per side before serving it on a thermal plate. Prepared and served in a few minutes, the simplicity of the process ensures it retains the very best of its natural flavour.

In fact, the only condiment is a dash of chimichuri, a lightly spicy sauce of wine vinegar, garlic, laurel leaves, oregano, parsley, paprika and dry pepper.

The taste? Melt-in-the-mouth delicious and cooked to perfection – even if I do say so myself.

I may never don a pair of chaps and rustle steeds in the pampas, but give me a knife, a slab of meat and a fine night in the back yard this summer and I’ll be the original lone-riding gringo gaucho.

* This story was first published in the Weekend Financial Times in 2006.

A taste of spring in Cumbria’s Lyth Valley

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* It’s Damson Day this weekend. The annual festival takes place at Low Farm in the Lyth Valley this Saturday. I can’t make it this year but I can offer a story from a previous trip – first published in the Independent.

Spring has come to Cumbria’s Lythe Valley. The rural enclave between Kendal and Windermere is transformed for a fortnight each year by an explosion of snow-white damson blossom.

I’ve timed my visit perfectly. In a field outside the village of Crosthwaite on a crisp spring morning, the blossom cascades around me the first flakes of winter. Daffodils and primroses add splashes of colour. Beyond the farm lies Underbarrow, verdant and alive, while Kentmere sports a heavy frost on the tops of its fells.

“It’s like a snowstorm,” says John Holmes, Vice Chairman of the Westmorland Damson Association. “Short lived, but glorious.”

Local folklore suggests either the Romans first brought damsons to the valley from Damascus in 200AD, or monks coming to establish Furness Abbey from Ireland in 12th century.

Either way, the hardy, plum-like fruit took to the tough conditions of the Lakeland fells and the first ever records of damsons sold at Kendal market date from 1780.

Today some 100 acres of the valley are under orchard, producing 20 tones of damsons each year during the September harvest. Westmorland damsons have, say locals, a distinct, nuttier flavour.

The damson orchards fell into decline after the Second World War, but the Westmorland Damson Association revived traditional cultivation in 1996, establishing the Damson Day festival soon after.

The annual event is, I find, part community fair, part country show. At the festival showground at Low Farm I peruse the damson-inspired goodies from local producers, chutneys, beers and even gin, before following a damson walk through the orchards.

Later that evening at Crosthwaite’s Punch Bowl Inn (pictured above), I tuck into a damson-themed dinner of slow-roast pork with black pudding and damson puree, followed by a damson soufflé, washed down with a damson gin.

“I like the tartness and the versatility of the damson for cooking,” says Head Chef Scott Fairweather, recently voted Cumbria Young Chef of the Year. “They’re ideal for pork and game, plus preserving as jams and chutneys.”

I knew nothing about damsons until my stay in the Lythe Valley. But, from this day on, I will always think of damsons as the true taste of spring.

David Atkinson is the author of Cumbria with Kids

Gazetteer

Westmorland Damson Association

Punch Bowl Inn

Cumbria Tourism

Story of the week: A cultural tour from Belfast to Derry

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* This is the fifth post in a new weekly series, highlighting stories from my travel-writing archive – many with no link online. I’m running them here in full. Subscribe to posts at this website for more.

On a quiet afternoon in Derry The Playhouse theatre still buzzes with activity. The writers’ group has just hit on the punchline, the art class revels in a riot of colour. I poke my nose into a movement workshop, led by the Colombian choreographer Hector Aristizábal, to find young dancers throwing sensuous shadows as early-spring sunlight streams in through the windows.

The theatre will play a powerhouse role as Derry steps into the spotlight this spring as the inaugural UK City of Culture. For Derry, the erstwhile heartland of The Troubles, the social and political conflict that blighted Northern Ireland for 30 years, it will be transformational. No wonder Derry was named by travel publisher Lonely Planet as the fourth most exciting city to visit this year.

“The arts always flourish in times of conflict,” says the fast-talking Playhouse chief executive Niall McCaughan, sprawling on a backstage sofa while a band tunes up for tonight’s show. “Derry nurtured strong connections to the arts via its community projects and now it’s time has come.”

I started taking the pulse of Derry’s renaissance earlier that day by crossing the Peace Bridge, the new link from the city centre to the Ebrington regeneration district on the far side of the River Foyle. Some of the cornerstone City of Culture events will be staged around this new public square, including the London Symphony Orchestra in March and the Turner Prize in October.

Over a lunch of dressed crab, spring lamb and slow-cooked pork at Browns, the contemporary-chic restaurant just across from Ebrington, head chef Ian Orr tells me about bringing local, seasonal produce to Derry tastebuds. “Derry didn’t have a strong food culture,” he says. “When I moved back here, I wanted to be the first.”

Orr was recently named Irish Chef of the Year at the Georgina Campbell Awards and plans to open a new sister restaurant, Browns in Town, across the Peace Bridge in the spring.

I spend the rest of the day taking in some of the other new arts spaces around the city. I find the young ensemble of the Echo Echo Dance Company rehearsing for one of their City of Culture commissions, Without, at a new studio, reviving a dilapidated old building on the ancient city walls. Their enthusiasm is almost tangible and I have to stop to catch my breath afterwards at the funky Café del Mondo in the Craft Village.

On the fringe of the Bogside district, past political-sloganeering murals and urban-industrial architecture, the Void Gallery is housed in one of the old shirt-making factories. “Many artists are returning to the city after years away,” says gallery manager Maolíosa Boyle, hanging her battered biker jacket on the stark-white wall of the minimalist space.

One of the gallery’s City of Culture projects is Artists Gardens, taking contemporary art out of the gallery and into the city. “I love the way art reflects the times,” she adds. “It touches all our lives.”

The next day I drive onto Belfast, cruising through the spring-stirring glens of County Antrim. I start by exploring the new Titanic Quarter, the sprawling regeneration area on the east bank of the River Lagan dominated by the newly opened Titanic Belfast (pictures above). The building with its four angular hulls traces the story of the world ‘s greatest shipping disaster across ten interactive galleries from Belfast’s industrial heyday to the post-disaster enquiry.

But it’s the Cathedral Quarter across the Lagan that has come to epitomise the vibrant new face of Belfast. From my base at the Merchant Hotel, the former Ulster Bank building reborn as the city’s grandest hotel, I set out to sample the vibe. The rabbit warren of streets clustered around St Anne’s Cathedral is alive with cafes, galleries and venues.

It has even spawned its own annual arts festival, the Cathedral Quarter Festival, staged each May.

I follow the ancient passageways, nodding to murals to John Peel and Van Morrison, pivot past the Harp bar on Commercial Court, home of Belfast’s sparky punk-rock scene, and skirt the facades of old whiskey warehouses. The strum of power chords lures me towards the O Yeah Music Centre.

The centre’s fast-talking chief executive Stuart Bailie shows me round the collection of memorabilia from Stiff Little Fingers to Snow Patrol. The graffiti-scrawled rehearsal space upstairs smells of musty damp, flat beer and the hopes of next-generation Belfast musicians. He says:

“I was 17 and ripe for rescue when punk broke in Belfast in early 1978.”

“That spirit has energised us ever since and lives on in the Belfast swagger.”

Stuart introduces me to singer-songwriter Katie Richardson, frontwoman of Katie & the Carnival. She’s playing a low-key acoustic session that night at creative arts venue the MAC. I promise to be there.

That night before the show Katie tells me about Belfast’s creative impetus over a glass of red wine in the MAC bar. “When I was growing up, all I wanted to do is leave. But now,” she says before taking the stage, hunched over her guitar with pink-streaked hair and gold-lame platform shoes, “there are so many fresh ideas that we’re a long way off being mainstream.”

The next day I meet writer Glen Patterson for one last, heading-home pint of chocolate stout at the John Hewitt pub. Named after the Belfast socialist poet, the pub stages literary salons and Patterson is a regular, one of the resonant new voices in Northern Ireland’s rich literary tradition.

He recently co-wrote the script for Good Vibrations, the film about the Belfast punk scene, which opened at last year’s London Film Festival.

“Ten years ago the Cathedral Quarter was a no man’s land yet it’s steeped in nostalgia,” says Patterson, a Bradley Wiggins lookalike with a dash of Paul Weller mod. “My uncle ran a warehouse behind the John Hewitt and we’re sat within spitting distance of where The Undertones recorded Teenage Kicks.”

He finishes his pint. “Belfast embodies the fact there’s no last word in cities, only the latest. We’re not there yet,” he smiles. “But we are here.”

* This story is the most recent in a series about Northern Ireland; see also Post Conflict Tourism in Northern Ireland in travel writing and Northern Ireland campaign for the Daily Telegraph in copywriting. It was published in the March 2013 issue of Zoom Zoom magazine.

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