Ducks Tongues and Natto

I'm getting stronger slowly, but I'm definitely in that perilous zone where I may be tempted to do too much, then crash. Almost every day I still need to sleep during the day - not my usual fifteen-minute power nap, but something deeper and longer, and hopefully more healing.

In the week or two before my operation, many of the things I owned broke in sympathy - including my car, in a very terminal way. So, for the last seven weeks I've been carelessly carless. Since I was unable to drive anyway it was as good a time as any for that to happen, and strangely liberatory. I even got a small road tax refund from the DVLA. The other day, though, coming to the end of my driving moratorium, I thought I should do something about getting a replacement, and (having intended merely to make tentative enquiries) ending up buying a second-hand Ford, which now sits outside my house. Though normally cautious and risk-averse, I occasionally buy very expensive things more or less on impulse. That's how I got the house itself, in fact. (Albeit it's a cheap house - for a house.) The new car has number plate that I particularly like, since it (almost) spells "LOL JOY". This makes up somewhat for its being grey.

The other day I went with my friend Htay and some of her circle to the Chinese restaurant over the large Chinese supermarket near here, to celebrate her birthday. Our populous party ate dim sum, which gave me a chance to try many new things, all of which I liked - except for ducks' tongues, which surprised me by consisting mostly of gristle. I swore then and there never to French-kiss a duck, even if it is a prince in disguise.

That Chinese supermarket has many interesting goods, though to my regret I've never been able to find nagaimo there, with the result that my okonomiyaki never have quite the right texture, but on this occasion I noticed that they had some natto in the freezer section. I've eaten natto only once, last year at the ryokan in Hakone, and I'm sure I did it inexpertly enough, so I'm keen to give it another go.

Natto is the Japanese equivalent of Marmite; not that they taste anything alike, but both have the reputation of being "love it or hate it" foods. So for lunch today I'm going to do a "natto and rice" versus "egg and Marmite soldiers" face-off.

Which will win?

Ducks Tongues and Natto

I'm getting stronger slowly, but I'm definitely in that perilous zone where I may be tempted to do too much, then crash. Almost every day I still need to sleep during the day - not my usual fifteen-minute power nap, but something deeper and longer, and hopefully more healing.

In the week or two before my operation, many of the things I owned broke in sympathy - including my car, in a very terminal way. So, for the last seven weeks I've been carelessly carless. Since I was unable to drive anyway it was as good a time as any for that to happen, and strangely liberatory. I even got a small road tax refund from the DVLA. The other day, though, coming to the end of my driving moratorium, I thought I should do something about getting a replacement, and (having intended merely to make tentative enquiries) ending up buying a second-hand Ford, which now sits outside my house. Though normally cautious and risk-averse, I occasionally buy very expensive things more or less on impulse. That's how I got the house itself, in fact. (Albeit it's a cheap house - for a house.) The new car has number plate that I particularly like, since it (almost) spells "LOL JOY". This makes up somewhat for its being grey.

The other day I went with my friend Htay and some of her circle to the Chinese restaurant over the large Chinese supermarket near here, to celebrate her birthday. Our populous party ate dim sum, which gave me a chance to try many new things, all of which I liked - except for ducks' tongues, which surprised me by consisting mostly of gristle. I swore then and there never to French-kiss a duck, even if it is a prince in disguise.

That Chinese supermarket has many interesting goods, though to my regret I've never been able to find nagaimo there, with the result that my okonomiyaki never have quite the right texture, but on this occasion I noticed that they had some natto in the freezer section. I've eaten natto only once, last year at the ryokan in Hakone, and I'm sure I did it inexpertly enough, so I'm keen to give it another go.

Natto is the Japanese equivalent of Marmite; not that they taste anything alike, but both have the reputation of being "love it or hate it" foods. So for lunch today I'm going to do a "natto and rice" versus "egg and Marmite soldiers" face-off.

Which will win?

Marmite versus Natto

As part of my KonMari tidying binge, I divided my food cupboard into Japanese (top shelf) and the rest (bottom shelf):



In that spirit, I decided to set natto against Marmite...

If you're interested in how to prepare natto, there are some pictures of the process below the cut:

( Natto prepping )

I have to tell you that both were delicious in their way, but that Marmite won, by dint of being so... Marmitey. That said, I've now reached the stage where my hypnogogic phantasies are usually conducted in (very bad) Japanese, so it may be that by this time next year the answer will be different.

Marmite versus Natto

As part of my KonMari tidying binge, I divided my food cupboard into Japanese (top shelf) and the rest (bottom shelf):



In that spirit, I decided to set natto against Marmite...

If you're interested in how to prepare natto, there are some pictures of the process below the cut:

( Natto prepping )

I have to tell you that both were delicious in their way, but that Marmite won, by dint of being so... Marmitey. That said, I've now reached the stage where my hypnogogic phantasies are usually conducted in (very bad) Japanese, so it may be that by this time next year the answer will be different.

Neptune versus Neptune

Diana Wynne Jones once told me that this diagonal path through a graveyard in Clifton was a place she considered magical, and it's not hard to see why.



Part of its charm is the occasional Narnia-esque lantern dangling from the foliage, the copper-green arch supporting it almost invisible amidst the leaves.



I was walking that way to get to Goldney Hall, a place that has something of a Hunsdon House vibe, being open only one day per year. I think I posted pictures from here a decade or so ago, but much has changed since then... Then as now, though, it's a place of early eighteenth-century follies, including a gothic tower (built to house a beam engine) and a shell-lined grotto dedicate to Neptune.






Also, a statue of Heracles trying out for the Mets.



My favourite such monument in Bristol, though, is the statue of Neptune in Warmley in the east of the city. This clinker-cloaked god once stood in the middle of an ornamental lake in the grounds of the house of zinc pioneer William Champion, around the same time Goldney was being grottified in rich Clifton. Neither house nor lake survives, but clinker Neptune stands tall to this day, in the middle of a caravan park:



I think we can safely say that the Warmley Neptune is the real deal. Clifton is pretty, but in terms of sea-gods it's just playing around.

Neptune versus Neptune

Diana Wynne Jones once told me that this diagonal path through a graveyard in Clifton was a place she considered magical, and it's not hard to see why.



Part of its charm is the occasional Narnia-esque lantern dangling from the foliage, the copper-green arch supporting it almost invisible amidst the leaves.



I was walking that way to get to Goldney Hall, a place that has something of a Hunsdon House vibe, being open only one day per year. I think I posted pictures from here a decade or so ago, but much has changed since then... Then as now, though, it's a place of early eighteenth-century follies, including a gothic tower (built to house a beam engine) and a shell-lined grotto dedicate to Neptune.






Also, a statue of Heracles trying out for the Mets.



My favourite such monument in Bristol, though, is the statue of Neptune in Warmley in the east of the city. This clinker-cloaked god once stood in the middle of an ornamental lake in the grounds of the house of zinc pioneer William Champion, around the same time Goldney was being grottified in rich Clifton. Neither house nor lake survives, but clinker Neptune stands tall to this day, in the middle of a caravan park:



I think we can safely say that the Warmley Neptune is the real deal. Clifton is pretty, but in terms of sea-gods it's just playing around.