Posts from 23rd November 2009

23
Nov 09

SPITTING IMAGE – “The Chicken Song”

FT + Popular69 comments • 7,071 views

#570, 17th May 1986, video

I wouldn’t say I was a ever a fan of “Agadoo”. But I danced to it – like “The Birdie Song” and Russ Abbot’s “Atmosphere” it was played at school discos when I was 12 or 13, to entertain the segment who were there to jump around and didn’t care about girls. I saw Black Lace as quite harmless, a thing apart from the rest of pop and not really to be judged on its terms: they were the soundtrack to marshmallow eating contests and birthday congas, nothing more. So in a way “The Chicken Song” taught me to hate them. Because “The Chicken Song” was something more: it was satire. Not only that, the B-Side was political satire.

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Three goat cheeses (cheesy lovers #40 – #42

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Cone du Port Aubry

Raw French goats cheese, from Mons

Cone du Port Aubry is, as the name implies, conical. Internet anecdote says that the cheesemaker nicked his wife’s bra and used it as a cheese mould. If this is true, then the cheesemaker’s wife has alarmingly large and pointy breasts. My slice of cheese is a pale off-white on the inside, turning squishy towards the rind. The rind’s darker and partially covered in a pale grey bloom.

It’s surprisingly dense inside – the texture’s like plasticine – but it melts in the mouth. Initially the cheese tastes astringently herbal, and lemony-goaty. This fades into a contrasting creaminess with hints of coffee and chocolate and hazelnut. Towards the rind a soft mushroom taste appears, alongside some surprising fruity moments – tangerine, pineapple – and some prickly pepperyness. There’s very little bitterness in the rind; it’s soft and sweet and bright.

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The FT Top 25 Pubs of the 00s No 23: The Shipwrights Arms

FT + Pumpkin Publog11 comments • 859 views

shipwrights pic Unpacking my crate on the first day in a new office I glanced out of the window. The first thing I noticed was a pie with Hitler’s face.* The second thing I noticed was this unassuming, but tempting, little boozer.

“Excellent,” I said to my colleague, “There’s a pub opposite.”

“It looks a bit rough.”

This was nonsense. It didn’t – and doesn’t – look at all rough, it just looked like a pub. Alright, there was something unvarnished about it in comparison to Tooley Street’s other drinkeries – it was clearly not after the same clientele as Skinkers Wine Bar, or the anonymous booze barn that serves Hays Galleria.

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