Category Archives: Postcards 2023

Unknown's avatar

The news at the end of a wet week

by

I caught snatches of today’s news as we quarter-circled around the M25 out of London. Here’s what I heard.

First up were a prince, his spokesman and paper dragons. The spokesman said that getting burned was the price the prince had to pay for fighting dragons. Meanwhile a paper dragon flamed about suntans, California, and sharing breathing space with the truth. It seems the prince and the paper dragons are not done yet.

Then we heard of a British teenager, missing for six years, but apparently found recently in the middle of the night. The man who found him was a French student working as a delivery driver in his spare time. He saw the youngster wandering along a lonely road near Toulouse and offered him a lift. They got talking, and the story told in the cab that night, and later passed to the police along with the teenager, was about a mother, who ran away with her son and her father. They joined a group leading a nomadic, off-grid life, but the son – the wandering teenager – is now keen to be reunited with his grandmother in England.

It was a strange story, that left us imagining, and was then followed by news of pirates in the Red Sea. There have been attacks and threats, and ships re-routed, and it sounds a lot like things might get worse.

I preferred the account of the grandson heading home.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

Unknown's avatar

A treat of a meal in Manteca, London

by

“The trouble with eating Italian is that 5 or 6 days later you’re hungry again.” George Miller

It was a windy, wet mid-week day when I stepped off the pavement into Manteca. Instantly all was warmth, and relaxed chat.

Our table was in a long row of tables for two. They were close together, but the restaurant so filled with activity that there was no chance to concentrate on anything other than our own meal and conversation. There was also no looking around for service as it seemed to appear out of nowhere to explain menus and choices, and then to deliver the results.

We were happy from start to finish – part of the theatre that swirled around us.

The open, stainless steel kitchen runs down the middle of the restaurant, with chefs in bright white chopping and preparing and plating up the bread and pasta, the meats and salads, while kitchen staff carry tubs of vegetables to and fro.

Our choices included chunks of foccacia alongisde puffy pork crackling, with a warming, rich ragu. Next came a bitter leaf salad with gorgonzola and pear, and then two pasta dishes, one with a crab sauce and another in a sauce of emerald green kale with chilli. They both tasted fresh and delicious.

We ended the meal with coffee and some salty fudge, then stepped back into the winter reality of London’s streets. Our immersion was over. Our escape was over. Our privileged two hours were over.

Was it worth it? Definitely. We had enjoyed attention, theatre, and food full of flavour, with a quietly professional kitchen right at the heart of our moment in time.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

Unknown's avatar

We went to see a film: Fallen Leaves

by

“The way I see it, the difference between a ‘movie’ and a ‘film’ is that one is scared to death of boring you for a second and the latter refuses to entertain you for a moment.” Alan Parker (Will Write and Direct for Food)

The first thing to say is that going on the Alan Parker definition Fallen Leaves felt like a film to me, not a movie.

The story is set in Helsinki, Finland, and follows the bleak prospects and lives of two lonely, low paid workers – Ansa (Alma Pöysti) and Holappa (Jussi Vatanen) who have never met, but whose paths start to cross with increasing frequency as they fall in love, and in and out of jobs. Aki Kaurismäki is the director, and all dialogue is in Finnish, with subtitles.

It’s hard to describe how minimalist it all is. Not much talking. Not much smiling. Not much colour. No gunfights. No murders. No sex. Just day to day. Too much drink. Too much bad luck. Too much war on the radio. Not much hope. Then a dog comes along. And things change. Just enough.

Did I enjoy it? Yes. It kept me on the point of smiling, almost laughing, and hoping, all the way through. It is so pared back – such a quiet depiction of the odd luck of life, and of how love survives, despite never-ending corporate heartlessness, war and drink.

Should you go and see it? I would say a definite yes, provided you’re not craving fast-paced entertainment, crammed with sensual overload. This is gentle. It left us smiling and took only an hour and twenty minutes of our time.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023