Not Quite Nigella Eat Your Heart Out!

I realise I am straying slightly into Hurley's territory here, but I cannot resist.

What it takes is a little dedication. Dedication in the name of food... Yesterday Country Bumpkin (CB) and I took a brekkie trip to the Bourke Street Bakery (sigh...) in Surry Hills. The Bakery opens at 8am. We were there at about 8:30ish. Yes, we both woke up early, and I mean early! 6:30am and 6:45am respectively. Reason being? We needed those ginger brulee tarts. Ha!
We did our research via Not Quite Nigella and UrbanSpoon before heading there. The bakery itself is a little difficult to get to when you aren't entirely sure where you're going. We started from Central and it took about 4 detours before we actually arrived. (However, having been there once, I can totally take you there again with my eyes closed.) It's a cute little, and I mean little, place right on the corner of a street. Once you're there, you cannot miss it, there's really not much else in the way of shops around it, lots of beautiful terraced houses that I dream about, though.

A very cute little place.

Because we arrived so early, there was no queue and no attitude from the staff (Ha! NQN and US!) and everything was still there, including the much-longed-for ginger brulee tarts. Yes! NQN actually arrived too late in the day and missed out on these absolutely amazing (and I am not exaggerating) tarts, so yes, a moment of satisfaction for CB and I. However, since we were so early we did miss out on the famed sausage rolls - the lamb, harissa and almond sausage roll I especially wanted to try. Together, we bought the pan au chocolat (chocolate croissant), rhubarb and almond tart, vanilla brulee tart with strawberry puree, chocolate mousse tart and of course, the ginger brulee tart. It's a little pricey, but not so much so that I won't be going back multiple times (I think it was about $4.40 for the 8cm tarts and $3.70 for the croissant).

Sigh.... pastry...

The croissant was beautiful. Not too sweet or buttery, and really nice and flaky. The chocolate was dark (yesss!) and there wasn't a massive amount, like you often get which detracts from the pastry. It wasn't the best croissant I have ever had in my life, but by all means really, really good! We ate this one before I remembered to whip out my phone for a picture, so no picture here guys, sorry!

The next one we tried was the ginger brulee tart, which was ABSOLUTELY AMAZING. Really. It was chilled so the custard wasn't too runny (On an interesting side note, they also use a 45% fat cream, instead of the 35% fat cream we usually get in shops, which results in a firmer custard) and there was, as raved about so much, that crack when we broke through the toffee on top. mmmmmm. Like US said, you can tell it's real ginger, not too gingery but a really lovely balance and I just wanted more. CB was right, we should have bought 2. Instead we bought the vanilla and strawberry brulee, which admittedly, we left for a little too long before we ate it. This one was also really nice. The custard was not too sweet and the strawberry puree at the bottom was really good! Because we let it go warm, the custard was a bit runny and there was no crack (why?!?).

Clockwise from front: rhubarb & almond, chocolate mousse, vanilla & strawberry puree, ginger brulee (unfortunately due to my inability to remember to bring a knife, we have no pictures of the inside. But please, let me refer you to NQN - she has beautiful pictures. Click Here!)

The chocolate mousse tart was something, though! This one is my cousin's favourite so I was expecting big things. And it was really, really good! The mousse is not too rich, a lot lighter than I expected and less firm too. And at the bottom was a "surprise" spoonful of raspberry puree which really took it to the next level. Raspberry + chocolate = heaven! And they put chocolate cake crumbs on top (not Milo, NQN!) which were cute and different, I thought. This was so much better than the rhubarb tart, which I have to admit I was a little disappointed in. All in all, it was quite nice, but a bit too much frangipane and not enough rhubarb. The result was therefore a bit too sweet and almondy for my taste. The pastry on all the tarts though is very nice - rustic looking and crunchy! Yum!! I am so going to try to make pastry now!

This trip made my day. Absolutely beautiful pastries which I will definitely be going back for. Definitely a high 8/10 (Only because it's a little hard to find and that rhubarb tart wasn't so great) And the top it all off, when I came home that night my lovely brothers presented me with my birthday present, which was the Bourke Street Bakery Baking Companion! Yay! Of course, I did give many not-so-subtle hints ("Hey! This is what I want for my birthday! And it’s on the Book Depository so get it there, okay?" Ahh... joys of the Book Depository...) haha! Nonetheless, I have been spending the best part of the last 12 hours reading through the book, and hence the little insights to how and what makes up the tarts.

My new 370-paged beautiful baby... complete with drool-worthy photos and step-by-step photo guides for pastry! (Including pate brisee! haha)

CB and I will be heading back to taste the breads and savouries and that chocolate ganache tart which has caught my eye... and for another ginger brulee tart, but in the meantime, I have my new baby :)

c.c.

moosic

I like books. And I like songs. Gosh Sally, you know me too well. We should get together soon. Over coffee. Talk about cool stuff like books and music and writing songs about books and music.

I reckon a conversation between us would go down somewhat like this:

Me: Hey Sally, what's the haps? I really like your Book Song.

Sally: Thanks Disco. It's very kind of you to say that.

Me: I bet you get that all the time though.

Sally: Sorry?

Me: You know. The whole fangirl gushing over your music. OMG lyk Salleee I luff youu soooo much!!!

Sally: Umm, not really. You see I'm just mildly cherished Australian indie singer-songwriter. Never mind the fact that I did all this work with New Buffalo and mainstream people didn't really notice. Never mind the fact that I wrote that 1234 song for Feist, that bitch who stole it off me. God I hate Feist.

Me: Yeah. Jesus, Feist, have a little compassion. Although she did make that kickass 15 minute long video for The Water which has Cillian Murphy in it. Mmm Cillian Murphy is so hot in such a creepy way...

Sally: ...whut.

Ok so it seems after all I can't find a link to Book Song by Sally Seltmann which I really recommend, so here's Dream About Changing instead. The whole album Heart That's Pounding is worthy of recommendation actually.

[disco.read]

"Meteors all Night" in a Dress

*now i don't normally do fashion posts but these dresses from Christopher Kane's 09/10 resort collection are just jaw-droppingly brilliant, especially the first one.

the real thing is pretty stunning as well...

(picture taken by the Hubble telescope - no idea which nebula, sorry!)

a rather starry-eyed c.l.

Belated movie mash-up

I realised that I had written these movie reviews only to save them on my laptop and forget about them forever. Until now.... But, to be honest, does anyone even care about these movies anymore?? Read on, if you dare.

~~

Toy Story 3

SUCH a great movie! The people at Pixar have fantastic imaginations. I loved the new characters: an evil strawberry-scented Care Bear, a freaky-looking lopsided-eyed baby and a flamboyant Ken doll. Not to mention Pixar seemed like they were catering for the ‘double-digits’ crowd with issues relevant to older kids (eg. Andy going off to college). And it was hilarious. 3D effects a great too.

9/10

Sex and the City 2

Needless to say, I didn’t have very high expectations for this movie. The dialogue was excruciatingly drawn-out at times, especially at the beginning. I think some scenes were included just for the hell of it (eg. bringing 2 changes of Ferragamo, Dior etc clothes for a stroll in the middle of a desert in Abu Dhabi… what the?!) which is a shame because things like this detracted from the real reason why women like SATC so much – that is, it openly discusses real and, at times, taboo issues which women face. Also - the end turns into a bit of a shamble as Samantha goes berserk but it is kind of hilarious as well.

But the clothes. Ohhhh, the clothes. A close up of Carrie’s gold, sparkly Louboutin’s in the first few minutes had me practically salivating. Only one gripe – outfit repeating. Since SJP became Creative-Director of clothing label Halston Heritage, I guess she is just milking it for all it’s worth. There is one Halston Heritage dress which SJP wears in 3 different colours and 2 different lengths. It’s pretty, but was it really necessary? (She also wore the same dress to the MET Gala Ball this year. Overkill.) The Emilio Pucci gown you see Carrie wearing on the SATC 2 posters looks better in the film (probably due to the fact that the movie posters were over-photoshopped). THAT is a hot dress.

If you watch it, bring earmuffs. It would be better if you only saw the clothes and didn’t listen to what the characters were saying.

6/10

Robin Hood

Kinda crappy. Cate Blanchett is ok, but I couldn’t accept her as a brunette. Russell Crowe is old and a bit grey. The King looked a bit to Mediterranean and not English enough. To be honest, nothing much really happens for the duration of the film and the climax (ie. epic battle) is short.

6.5/10

Eclipse

Oh. Mah. Gawd. IT’S EDWARD! And Jacob! [Shirtless!]

Oh Edward... I will love you, lyk, 4 everr.

That alone is probably enough to get the attention of Twihards, but this instalment of the Twilight ‘Saga’ is actually… good. Shocked?

It’s the darkest of the three as the threat of Victoria, the evil vampire, looms close.

I guess all you need to know is Edward is still hot, Jacob is still hotter and Bella is still an emotional, angsty teen (much like D.Read’s post below).

7/10

~~

Thanks for making it to the end.

~Hurley Who?

phishing for compliments

So in reading Count's post below and riding shamelessly on the small-scale Renaissance of the blog, I've been made to think again.

What was it about being young teenagers and feeling all this angst? Why so typical of that particular age when everything was ennui and ennui was the colour grey, the people we loved, the thoughts we thought and all the things we had never done but dismissed anyway?

I remember writing in my journal when I was 14, 15, 16 (again, how typical) about all the things I hated, raging on and on until I actually became so exhausted that I veered into apathy once more and left the page-long sentence unfinished. But seriously, why the hell do we do things like this?

Anne Frank.

One of the few teenagers who managed to steer clear of angst angst and my god, more angst.

But then again, she did have more important things on her mind.

To prevent this blog from becoming some sort of emotional tampon (I'd be amused to know if we all blogged about meaningful shiz around about the time we each had PMS), I'll leave you all with an interview with Phoenix about how they come up with lyrics to their songs. (sorry, lost the link so let's just pretend it's from some music magazine)

In your song “Rome,” you describe a city that was once beautiful but is now decaying. As the song progresses, we realize it mirrors a relationship. How intentional are these things?

TM: You have all of these ideas that are very different and you want to put them together, but you need to find some sort of glue that holds them together. So something that we really enjoy is to delete almost everything in between. All the things that make [the narrative make] sense. That’s something that’s impossible to do in French, because every word carries the weight of time and space. But in English, you can erase what’s in between, so it makes it easier. I guess maybe Hank Williams—Laurent gave me a book of Hank Williams lyrics for my 18th birthday—and I just loved how simple it is and how every word is independent so you can just mess with the whole thing. Suddenly, your “heart can be filled with tears” and so on…

His lyrics are very distilled.

TM: That’s something that is impossible to do in French. Because if you just said “My heart is filled with tears,” it would be, “My heart would have been filled with tears that I cried before…”

Maybe my favorite moment when we make a record is when you have a verse and you like the melody a lot, and you have the words for it, and you have too many verses. This rarely happens to us; I wish it happened more. You know when you hear a Bob Dylan song and he goes on forever and he has so many verses that are amazing—it doesn’t fit our music. It’s almost like helium in a gas tank or something where things are free and spread in a very dense environment. You have a lot of lines to put down but you have to make decisions. There are only going to be two or three verses so I have to use this or I can’t use that. And that’s why it’s very important that there are the four of us because I can’t decide on my own. You need input, you need to know which one will be the most like a trademark, or which one is the most unusual. And then, the repetition in every verse is very playful. Once you have the main structure it becomes this big playground where you come back to places. Whether it’s ideas that are the same or it’s just a place that is the same, when you come back to them [in the song] it takes you to a different place. I think my favorite is probably the beginning of the second verse. I don’t know why.

CM: We love the beginning of the second verse. It’s our favorite moment.

TM: ‘Cause it’s the moment where there is no impact. It’s the moment where you’re naked. It’s the most melancholic moment. You don’t have to claim anything. You’re really a friend to the person who is listening. And you can just say the most heartbreaking thing.

[d.read]

Hourglass Reflections

As further evidence that this blog is not dead, here's a rare-once-in-a-blue-moon poem/dramatic monologue from yours truly (admittedly written in year 10 but never shown to the blog-reading public)

Apologies to all would-be or actual doctors or anyone involved in the medical profession- I have nothing against you, I think you play incredibly important and redemptive roles in society. Anyways the persona is not me even though I had just spent two tortuous day sitting in waiting rooms, first in the American embassy and then a doctor's clinic when I wrote this poem.

I guess I could just invoke Oscar Wilde's controversial artistic disclaimer in his preface to Dorian Gray:

"The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim.
There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book.

No artist desires to prove anything. No artist has ethical sympathies. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.

All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, not life, that art really mirrors.

Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex and vital. When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself. All art is quite useless. "

Anyways, now to the actual poem itself (which is probably going to be a bit of an anti-climax; its not really controversial! I hope.)

Hourglass Reflections

Cold blue walls and the pervasive smell of antiseptic:
Hospitals make me sick – how ironic then
The amount of time that I should spend in them
Perpetually being jabbed, cut open and sewn back again
Until I am more synthetic material than human being.

There are others waiting here as well;
Solitary giants living in their own thoughts,
Connected to each other by fine threads of circumstance.
All in the same boat, a leaky vessel carrying us to a salvation
That never seems to get any closer, indeed today it seems further away.

Now and then, someone cries;
A mournful sound that wakes us from our reveries
Reminds us why we are here at this ungodly hour.
While the monotonous ticking of the clock melting into the deluge
Reminds us how little time we have left…

They brought in a man screaming once
Writhing like a snake, frothing like a mad dog
“I’m a prisoner… It’s all a conspiracy!” cried he
And we all shook our heads,
Mumbling in disgust, sympathy… understanding?

He never came out of the Last Chance Room
Save for a body bag that muffled all dissent.
God knows what they did to him
And what they’ll do to me.

The very thought of which sends shivers down my spine;
Tingling chills caressing each individual vertebrae
Till I lose all reason and begin to shudder uncontrollably
Crying “Tip the hourglass back on itself!”
Tip the hourglass…

The hissing of the sands of time:
I hear it in my dreams, my waking hours...
It makes me shudder, clasp my clammy hands together in strained embrace,
Coveting the vitality of life. Madly. Compulsively.

It's the reason I return here, time and time again.
Forcing down the jittery nerves that threaten to convulse into panic,
Running my hands over what remains of the hair on my skull,
Tracing fingers over newly formed scars,
Each reluctant step leading to this room which harbours
The absurd human delusion that every disease has a cure.

It would be easier to just give up now
And have my screams stifled by soft pillows,
The pain blocked out by morphine shots.
Deluding myself that Death comes only to others
Until the fateful moment when the last grain of sand falls
Right.In.Front.Of.My.Eyes.

So I wait here instead, inactively seeking help,
Knowing they’ll come for me; those terrifying beings
Uttering the two despised words “Bad News…” in gravelly tones
The very sound of which freezes the blood in my veins
And holds me in limbo: no muscle moves, no breathe escapes…
I am captive – held in a place only select few dare to follow;
My captors and saviours combined into one.
Those men in white coats.

Waiting as they summon us one by one,
Every noise that emanates from the Room
Is amplified - Screams, yells and thuds reverberating
Until I can’t hear my own thoughts anymore.
Fists clenched, sweat dripping, my body tense.
Why? Why go through this pain in the name of hope?

But then again, I’m desperate
And desperate times call for desperate measures.

So I won’t run and hide when they call my name,
I’ll stand tall and walk t’ward the door.
Fingers crossed they’ll do the deed,

A little taste of immortality for me…

c.l.

edit: sorry about the dodgy spacing, it won't go away...

This blog is not dead.

You have my word, yes the word of a supposedly anonymous stranger (or familiar friend) that writes under a pseudonym; I mean, why would you question me? Do you know who I am?

I actually really don't care if you do know me/not (if I don't know who you are, perhaps just a smidge), but you have to admit my point is correct - the fact that I am posting this right now is proving the fact that this blog is not dead.

So I leave you with a beautiful track, courtesy of a great collaboration between Feist & Grizzly Bear - Service Bell.

~Louis Tiffon

Who's Reviews: Inception

Since everyone’s talking about it and 8^th St always has its hand on the cultural pulse, it was pretty inevitable something about Inception was going to pop up sooner or later. And we can all breathe a sigh of relief after being subject to the mindless Hollywood crapola (Knight and Day anyone?) or the endless sequels/remakes (Karate Kid, Marmaduke – UGH, and dare I mention SATC 2?!) we’ve been seeing in the cinema of late.

You’ve probably heard the rough storyline of Inception. Leo (just a wrinklier, manlier, more rugged version of the baby-faced Jack from Titanic), or should I say Dom Cobb, manipulates dreams along with his team comprising of Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ellen Page and others. A (I’m assuming) mega-rich Asian corporate big-wig enlists this team to carry out the very tricky task of ‘inception’ – planting an idea into someone’s head - to carry out his own evil, devious and immoral/unethical business strategies.

If that’s not complicated enough, add the slight distraction of Mal (Marion Cotillard, such a French hottie), Cobb’s deceased wife, who keeps popping up in his dreams and killing other people (in the dream, that is). Clearly he has a bit of a guilty conscience.

The first half of the film revolves around Cobb teaching Ariadne (Ellen Page) about the ins and outs of delving into someone's dream. The second half is where the actual inception takes place. It’s completely messed up, but in a good Christopher Nolan-esque way. Think all the drama of The Dark Knight but a bit more intellectual.

Jo-Go. Best dream, hands down.

What the film does so well is to juggle a conceptually tricky idea yet still manage to keep the film approachable enough so that the general mouth-breathing public is able to keep up (or am I being too cynical about the intelligence levels of the wider community?). In saying that, however, it does take some degree of effort to understand exactly what is happening as the film goes in and out of four different ‘levels’ of dreams. Each level is visually spectacular and apparently each had its own colour palette to make it easier for the audience to subconsciously distinguish between them.

Trippy, eh?

The CGI effects are quite brilliant and mind-boggling, and the eye candy (I’m talking about Jo-Go, not Leo) is not too bad either. Marion Cotillard is FREAKY! But in a good way. I think she’s really stunning, though I’ve talked to some people who have thought otherwise.

To be honest, I thought Ariadne was completely redundant as a character even if I did love Juno. My other qualm was the music. Ok, it was effectively dramatic at times, but it was overkill in certain circumstances. Oh, and the much-debated ending. But I won’t spoil that for those who haven’t had the opportunity to watch this film. Besides those things, the movie was damn good. An intellectual and visual treat!

This movie gets 9/10. For realz.

~ Hurley Who?

PS. Hope I didn’t spark a ‘IS JO-GO HOT OR NOT’ debate with my above comment/s.