Pondering a petition about the original English muffin

30/11/2007


Now, usually I don't get on my soapbox about anything. In fact, I can be downright lazy when I want to. But here, for the first time, I find myself startled into action for something... well, rather embarrassingly silly.

Soooo, what has raised my hackles? A few days ago I stumbled on a tidbit of information on the www; namely that a goddess was descending upon us... sorta. It so happens that Nigella Lawson was venturing from her safe UK haven to the continent, to Amsterdam to be more precise. So you will understand that a measure of excitement overtook me as I pondered the possibility of being in the same breathing space as this icon. Needless to say, my hopes were soon dashed as I realized that all the tickets had unfortunately been snapped up by a bunch of Dutch and American people, who had some kind of ESP information about this event.

After a brief mail exchange with a very kind PR person, and a number of calls to some not so kind people, I realized that it was not to be. A true Cinderella does not get to go the ball moment.

But Cinderella persevered and so will I. Thus, I have no choice now but to ponder a petition with the title: Bring Nigella to Belgium. What say you? Would there be any interest? After all, it's not because we are a small blot on the European landscape, that we should be overlooked. So come visit, all you celebrities, we'd so like to have you.

AND HERE'S THE LINK TO THE PETITION. SPREAD THE WORD!

Le current mood - so not the way I feel right now!

29/11/2007


As I sat here tapping away at yet another translation while a dull headache martyrizes and marrs my working efforts (my coffee buzz has not kicked in yet), I reflected on the current mood du jour. The video above most certainly does not represent how I feel today.
So onwards I bravely soldier, on the subject of 'Diamond Divas', an upcoming exhibition in one of Antwerp's numerous museums.

171 days of gloom and doom - whatever happened to Belgium, the surprise package of Europe?


One hundred and seventy-one days and one minute have passed since our national elections and yes, incredible as it may seem, our politicians still seem to think that they have all the time in the world to bicker about a new coalition.

The simple question of why a temporary government hasn't been put in place is so evident that one does not even dare ask it at this point.

No revolution has broken out. The people aren't screaming in the streets. No cars are being burnt (for that you have to head to the Paris banlieues these days, I am told, if it's fireworks and adrenalin that you are looking for).

In fact Belgians are going about their business as usual. Eating and drinking like true rabelaisians, preparing to spend money, etc. Incidentally, did you know that Belgium numbers 135,000 very fortunate dollar millionaires among its population? This puts it in twelfth place worldwide. Not bad for a country, whose impact in the EU was cited by MEP Daniel Cohn-Bendit as being "zéro" today. Now I know that Belgium is particularly good at scoring "nul points" in the Eurovision song extravaganza, but Mr CB's comment is stretching it a tad, don't you think?

So is Belgium irrelevant? Would you miss it? Did you even know it existed?

Christmas beckons - part deux: turkey dilemmas

28/11/2007


Hark, the herald angels are already singing again... and soon they'll be brightening up our tree. Yes, alas, Christmas decorations have started to edge their way into my field of vision when I walk down Antwerp's streets. We are only one week away from the whole chasm opening up.

This year's tree is slowly but surely shaping up in my mind with kitschy white angel lights (see above), white feathers, popcorn and cranberries, more lights, and some transparent glass ornaments. Why rein yourself in when you can go completely overboard? I've come to understand that the only way to make 'the most wonderful time of the year' bearable is to basically join in. If you can't beat them, etc., what else can you do?

So whilst our turkey is being raised organically in some green outpost in old Eire, courtesy of Jack the butcher in Brussels, we are pondering recipes, all the while hampered by the fact that my sister is on a major diet for the rest of our and her life...

All I myself can think about, pathetically but greedily, is Boxing Day, as post-turkey-syndrome sets in. Turkey tonnato, turkey and cranberry sandwiches, turkey and pomegranate salad... Gasp. What if we didn't order a bird that's big enough to warrant sufficient leftovers for snacking?

Speaking of turkeys, the best Christmas card I ever sent out featured a turkey with a Groucho Marx nose, mustache and glasses, crouching with a bazooka behind a lantern post, with a poster that read: join the turkey liberation front.
This year's venture is a much more sobering one, an endorsement of Unicef.

Because at the end of the day, however whimsical this whole shenanigan might be, we should always spare not one, but many thoughts for all those who are less fortunate than us and who live in this 'seriously f***ed up world', as my fellow blogger Siegfried put it so succinctly.

Muzak!

27/11/2007

Sometimes it pays to read magazines, even if they are as inane as Vanity Fair.
How else would I have found out about Devendra Banhart and Feist?

Definitely worth listening to!

Two mommies? No spanking.

26/11/2007

On Friday my SO came home and told me that she'd had a chat with Frances's mum. We had been expecting this for quite a while, since Frances's mum happens to be English-speaking too (US or Canada, no idea at this point) and since she'd overheard us speaking English, and we'd noticed her too (one does tend to stand out in a pack of Flemish-speaking mothers).

So the discussion launched and at some point, she asked my SO: 'so who are you?' My SO answered: 'I'm V's mum'. At which point Frances's mum fell silent for a minute, and then said: 'who did you say?'

I should explain here that we both bring our little one to school, sometimes together, most days separately (one of us will go in, while the other is at work/home). Obviously Frances's mum is trying to figure out what's going on: who's the blond one, I thought the dark-haired one was the mum...

Likewise, on one of our first visits to our pediatrician's practice, the paed ended the visit with: 'are you the nanny', and then turned all kinds of interesting shades of red (I never noticed that colour does really rise up in your face when you turn red) as she realized her blunder. This is usually inevitably followed up with the 'I have a lesbian friend, my niece is a lesbian, I have other lesbian couples in the practice, etc.' although we have yet to be confronted with the 'I am a lesbian myself' answer.

At any rate, it will be interesting to see if Frances's mum has a lesbian in her closet ;-)

Continuing on the subject, after school, many parents and their children conglomerate in the play area near the school, conveniently located in front of a café, which serves delicious hot cocoa. Zoe's mum happened to drop by our table, and out of the blue said: 'It must be nice to be two mummies.' I was momentarily flummoxed by that statement, but she immediately followed it up with: 'You know, it's quite different with a man around the house. They have a different way of dealing with kids, they're less present, less hands-on.' So much for the 'new man': I guess he hasn't landed at Zoe's house yet.

Which brings me to my next parenting subject: the debate is currently raging in Belgium on whether pedagogical spanking should or should not be prohibited.

As could be expected, most parents feel that their behaviour should not be dictated by the law, whereas the lawmakers' objective is to basically try and reduce child abuse.

Personally, I think there's a long way from one spanking to child abuse (i.e. daily boxing of a child's ears, etc.). That said, I remember being shocked when one of our daycare caregivers slapped one of her twins. I knew that she would never slap my child, but the mere fact that my munchkin was subjected to seeing that and the look of complete non-understanding on V's little face as she witnessed that incident, is still an issue for me.

As a mother of a 3-year old, I can vouch for the fact that there are times when a child can literally drive you insane with indecision and tantrums. Toddlers are the original Vickie Pollard (yeah but, no but).
But I'm always reminded of the episode of Desperate Housewives in which Lynette berates Bree for slapping her children. Finally she has to admit that it did have an effect, using the threat of a spanking from Bree to keep her children in line, without actually spanking herself.

I think that there is a very fine line when it comes to physical discipline: my cousin firmly believes in it (he's a hardliner); but where does the spanking end, when does it become humiliating, when does it influence your memories for life, and does it achieve the desired result. Considering that most people find themselves having to spank again (i.e. it becomes a routine punishment), I have a feeling it doesn't. So we continue down our path of negotiate, explain, compromise, no spankings, and wing it. Because although there are a gazillion parenting manuals out there, the only one that will work is the one endorsed by both parents, which is invented as you go along, through practice.

So here's to a new week of parenting pitfalls.

oh she was gorgeous - the girl in Leon Spilliaert's painting

25/11/2007

Today's gorgeous girl is a bit out of the ordinary, as what makes her so gorgeous, is the fact that you can't see her face.

She is the girl running down the staircase in Léon Spilliaert's painting, Vertigo.



You can just make out her pale face behind her flowing veil.

Léon Spilliaert is a Belgian painter (early twentieth century). He has his own particular style, which he honed over time and is especially known for his works depicting Ostend, where he lived and worked (like James Ensor). Another one of his works, which is pretty amazing is La Baigneuse. The Belgian coast seems to have inspired a host of painters; another one of my favourites, who lived further along the coast is Paul Delvaux, whose pale nudes with their blond hair and grey eyes in night-time landscapes are quite captivating.

Le current mood - Proof that I'm sinking into deep 50s housewife mode

I baked cranberry muffins for breakfast this morning.

I have been humming 'The Lonely Goatherd' from the Sound of Music for two whole days now.

I depress myself.

Buttermilk chicken by Nigella Lawson

23/11/2007



The domestic demi-goddess has conquered another hurdle on the path to goddishness. I've spatchcocked my first chicken. It felt like playing 'operation' all over again... I'll admit to being squeamish about anything that involves cutting through bones, delving into innards, etc. As you can see, I would have failed miserably in the butcher's business.

But voilà: two spatchcocked chickens are now comfortably resting in their olive oil-garlic-maple syrup-maldon salt-crushed black peppercorns-buttermilk and rosemary marinade thanks to Nigella Lawson. Hopefully they will provide a bunch of hungry lunch guests with a good lunch in combination with some butternut squash and cinnamon mash (it's the light version of the Thanksgiving turkey fiesta, as Turkey Day is X-mas here and our poor turkey is still being raised somewhere in the green pastures of Ireland).

Will report back on the outcome of this extravaganza. But as for preparation, this is an easy one.

Update 1: have had to wash my hands three times already since I keep on smelling olive oil on my wrists, every time I lift my cup of coffee (did you know by the way that vanilla syrup is an excellent way to agrement a dull coffee?).

Update 2: they loved it. Only one drumstick left. The chooks were devoured in no time at all. The meat was moist and succulent, the skin fried to a perfect crisp; the buttermilk was in fact hardly discernible, while the maple came through, as well as the garlic, pepper and rosemary. Definitely a recommend here!

And while we're on the subject of dance...

22/11/2007

Here's Sylvie Guillem in William Forsythe's 'In the middle, somewhat elevated", one of my favourite ballets. Those breath-taking extensions, the arch of her foot, the emphasis in her movement, everything reminds me of why I love ballet so much.

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