Parries → Poaching a Method to Complement Microwaved Spinach 

Baggies, the venerable travelers hostel here in Brighton, closed its doors for a month or so today, as Mark the manager was tired of cleaning up after the few remaining long-term residents making messes doing various things that young people, and older people too, do. Last night was the first time he and I had really spoken. We spoke of the English and of the “sorry” habit. We spoke of the English way of running water, keeping the hot and cold taps separate, disallowing temperature adjustment. It made me proud to hear later that he’d been inspired to open the hostel by his six months in, yes, Tel Aviv. Best time of his life, he says, back in the mid-80s living in a hostel there run by one Ami.

Spinach is very good after a covered minute in the microwave so I’ve been trying to poach eggs because that seems a perfect complement to the abovementioned plus I adore henly ploppings. In ‘How to Poach an Egg’ Rob Manuel suggests his clingfilm method but the eggs just stuck to the plastic rather than the pan and had to be scraped off. In a fit of kitchen delight I added some chopped chives to my next little egg ball, then little prawns to a third, but these were progressively unrulier. I’ve had poached eggs before, so I know it can be done. I just remembered: my Mum used to do it with moulds.

Patronized a caff named Toast this morning on the corner of Trafalgar and Kemp streets. Two attractive middle-aged women run the show. It’s a nice place physically, with two walls that are essentially windows. The coffee was of the usual we-don’t-really-know-how-to-do-it variety but the toast was tasty, as I had cunningly deduced, even if the tank-topped lady forgot to actually place it on the toaster before bringing me it, apologized, retrieved it, then brought it back again nicely toasted but with the paper napkin now stuck to the melted cheese. My ostentatious picking off of the blue confetti did not win me any freebies, but the toast really was good and I’ll return for more. With tea next time. Though usually the tea is as bad as the coffee. Teabags.

In fact I’ve lost faith in local reviews of places to eat and drink. People gush yet the place ends up being total shite. Observe the gush given The Tea Rooms on Southover St. We were really impressed with the decor, thinking this’ll be a great place to bring out-of-towners, but after enjoying the fuss printed on the menu about the rules of tea—tongue-in-cheek to be sure; they have monthly Rocky Horror nights—the actual food and drink was like biting into a bruised apple. Scones hard as rock. Teabags in the teapot again. An assortment of biscuits from Asda. Sandwiches all the same and not a cucumber amongst them. The saving grace was the lemon sorbet on a slice of orange at the beginning. These made us feel special for a brief few moments until the rest came.

Three places in Brighton so far have been consistently properly good. The Basketmakers, which does get good reviews for its pub food and deservedly so; Red Roaster, for the best coffee in town and totally on-the-ball croissants; and, surprisingly enough, Palm Court, the fish and chips restaurant out on the pier. You get the view, the pleasure of being on the water, moderate prices, and very solid quality fare indeed. It’s got that bright cheerful corrugated iron white feel of the pier, and because it’s a totally traditional local ethnic menu, feels nonetheless natural, like a diner. Here’s a nice piece on the Pier itself, even if the author does claim to be a Brightonian, born and bread.

Now that extremeelements.com is essentially done and I can lift my head up a little, the blowsy weather here in Blighty is just a teensy weensy little bit starting to piss me off. I guess Brighton is a delight in the summertime, but that’s a ways away still. So I hark back as is my perennial wont to the Big Shachta, Tel Aviv. But the prawns in my fridge remind me that there’s good stuff here too, novel to me. I’ve never bought prawns before. They’re £1.50 for about 200g, pre-cooked and pre-cleaned. Such is the abundance in the supermarket. The nearby Sainsbury’s just closed and immediately reopened a block away. A bigger, newer, brighter supermarket I have never seen, even if my excitement was dampened a bit by being unable to see very well due to my glasses being covered in water droplets from walking there in the rain. They’re selling own-brand breakfast cereals for £2 for two boxes, and I can’t tell the difference between theirs and Kellog’s own Coco Pops and Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes. I think my brand disloyalty comes from the fact that Coco Pops taste different in every country. £1 for a big 600g box of Coco Pops! In Israel that would cost about NIS70, or about £8! Seriously. These are serious issues. And Sainsbury’s chicken wings, admittedly not very tasty but wing nonetheless: £1 per kilo. That seems pretty cheap to me. Just a shame I can no longer digest sugary breakfast cereals without an icky feeling of bloat and heartburn, and that the wings can’t be put on the barby due to the weather and urban nature of one’s surroundings where the craft of gathering twiggery cannot be practiced. Is there nowhere just right?

Let me say it now, and I didn’t need convincing by ‘Let’s Make a Deal: Social conservatives, Rudy Giuliani, and the end of the litmus test’ by Noemie Emery: Hillary is going to self-destruct fast and Obama is going to lose to the next President of the United States, Rudolph Giuliani.