If this isn’t the simplest recipe in the world, my name is not Chrystler Jennings the III. No I do jest, in all seriousness there are simpler recipes out there, such as not boiled egg. Pesto is among the simplest and least time consuming recipes I have ever made. Additionally, it is one which will keep well and last a long time after is made.
Ingredients
1large bunch of basil,leaves only, washed and dried
3medium cloves of garlic
one small handful of raw pine nuts (lightly roasted in a pan with no oil)
roughly 3/4 cup Parmesan,loosely packed and freshly grated
A few tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil
Method
Some recipes ask you to hand chop all the dry ingredients with a mezzaluna knife, adding olive oil to the form a paste. While I understand the therapeutic and practical ramifications of such an act, I find it barbarously wasteful of precious time. While hand cut pesto is often better quality and allows one to separate the ingredients more clearly, my preferred method is to blend it with a machine
If you are lucky enough to possess a Moulinex or similar small blender, put all the ingredients in it and pulse it a few times. Then scopp out the pesto and put it in a jar, ready to be used at will. Easy as pie.
In Summation
Pesto is among the easiest dishes to make. I like to alternate the Parmesan with either Pecorino Romano or Chilli Pecorino to give it a bit of a kick and for better melting once added to your gnocchi. You are of course at liberty to use other pasta, but in so doing, you will secure your place at Broadmoor psychiatric hospital.
This was one of my earlier works, which I had the pleasure of reading out at the Birmingham and Midlands Institute Play Reading Group. We were reading Arthur Miller that week, in case you were wondering.
The featured image on this post is a wonderful pallet knife piece by Leonid Afremov called Reincarnation, which I thought was most appropriate given the Catholic overtones of this poem.
Michaelangelo Merisi Da Caravaggio is one of the greatest painters who has ever lived. My favourite piece by him is St Francis in Meditation, which I first saw at the Convento Dei Capuccini museum in Rome (pictured below). This piece was painted circa 1606, some 10 years after Boy Bitten by Lizard. It represents St Francis of Assissi in deep prayer. One can see immediately from the proportion, use of lighting, depiction of torn fabric and emotion in the face of the Saint himself, that this is a piece of great artistic merit. It certainly struck me when I saw it.
I mention this because it bears similarity to Boy Bitten by Lizard. This earlier painting was the first in which Caravaggio depicted emotions in the face of his subjects. St Francis’ emotive face bears the hallmarks of Caravaggio’s earlier works.
According to Leonard J. Slatkes, the painting’s symbolism likely derives from the Apollo Sauroktonos theme in which a poisonous salamander triumphs over the god, while the arrangement of various fruits suggests The Four Temperaments, with the salamander being the symbol of fire in Caravaggio’s time. The salamander also had phallic connotations, and the painting might have been inspired by a Martial epigram: “Ad te reptani, puer insidiose, lacertae Parce: cupit digitis illa perire tuis. (Spare this lizard crawling towards you, treacherous boy/It wants to die between your fingers) Wikipedia
Boy Bitten by Lizard is an early masterwork in my eyes. From the reflection in the glass, allowing us perspective into the room’s surroundings, to the dew on the rose leaves and the sheen of the grapes – this is truly remarkable. But the focal point of this painting is the pained emotion on the subject’s face (thought to be Mario Minniti). This beautiful chiaroscuro dividing the face down to the shoulder amplifies the pain the subject feels when his hand is unexpectedly bitten by a lizard. This is a departure from Caravaggio’s earlier works such as as Boy Peeling a Fruit, Sick Bacchus and Cardsharps. These have been described as both airless and stiff by comparison. Observe the sheen on the nose, the intake of breath expressed in the models lips, the furrowed brow, the recoiling fingers on both hands. The shock is palpable and wonderfully rendered.
As an aside, it is believed the inspiration for this piece is Sofonisba Anguissola’s, Boy Bitten by a Crab (c. 1554), pictured below.
Overall, Boy Bitten by Lizard, is a masterwork. Do observe it in your spare time.
Situated in the centre of Harborne High Street, The Junction is a pillar of the local community. The weekly quiz here is legend. But alas, the gang and I did not visit this public house to answer trivia questions, we came for Sunday lunch and were richly rewarded.
The Junction menu comprises the option of three small dishes for £10, much like Wetherspoons. Much debate was had as to whether we should go for these, but we opted instead for the Sunday Roasts. Two of us opted for the nut roast. This is typically consisting of onion, celery, mushroom, carrots, breadcrumbs and assorted nuts, such as walnuts, pecans, hazelnuts and Brazil nuts. I believe this nut roast had a few pine nuts, which made it all the more delicious. This was served on a bed of roast carrots, parsnips, red cabbage and roasties, as well as a whopping great Yorkshire pudding. I was particularly taken aback by the nut roast, as it happened. It positively exuded flavour. The texture was moist and each constituent ingredient came to the fore beautifully.
I ordered the roast pork belly. This was served on the same marvellous bed of vegetables as the last dish. I’d like to talk about these veg for a moment. This is what I consider perfection in Sunday cooking. The cabbage was delicious and freshly made, sliced the correct size and held together by a gorgeous sauce. The roasties were cooked in fat and fell apart beautifully. The parsnips and carrots tasted as though they had been cooked together and both were the correct size and texture for Sunday Roasts.
The pork itself was divine. My one gripe was the skin was somewhat tough and difficult to get through as it cooled. So don’t wait too long to finish it! The meat was cooked over some time which made it fall apart. This pork had a deep, satisfying flavour, notes of fat throughout and a tender juicy texture. Combined with any of the other ingredients on the plate, and the sage and apple jelly we destroyed in the process, this was a winning Main course.
Finally, being enormous, hedonistic gluttons, we ordered some pigs in blankets and cauliflower cheese. I’ve always found cauliflower cheese to be a horrendously bland dish, no matter what is done to it. Pigs in blankets, however, are a game changer. These ones in particular were succulent, with brittle bacon and went deliciously with the gravy at hand.
Overall, this was a marvellous way to spend Sunday lunch. Mass can have quite a stark effect on one’s mood and such a fabulous lunch tips the scales towards the euphoric, rather than disdainful. Tilting thus is bolstered, of course, by their fine selection of alcoholic beverages. Their Aspall’s draught Cyder was a work of art. I recommend this pub for anyone with a mouth and teeth. Enjoy the fantastic fare and beautiful surroundings.
While my posts are usually confined to art galleries rather than paintings alone, this piece so struck me that I felt the need to dedicate a post to it. I’m sure you don’t mind, dear readers. Now, to the painting. At 26 square metres, it is difficult to picture the scale of the Bellini brothers’ phenomenal rendition of St Mark Preaching in Alexandria.
This pice was originally commissioned by the Venetian confraternity of the Scuola di San Marco in May 1504 from Gentile Bellini. However, unfortunately Gentile died in 1507, and stipulated in his will that his brother, Giovanni (widely considered the greater artist) should finish it. When it was finished, this monumental piece hung in the Scuola di San Marco for three hundred years before being moved to the Pinacoteca di Brera, in Milan.
He specialised in panoramic group scenes like the one reproduced here, full of detail and enlivened by numerous small touches of actuality, such as exotic costumes and architecture. A G Dixon
Moving onto aspects of the painting itself. I like the delicate lighting demonstrating the sheen in St Mark’s robe. Of course the saint is clad in royal purple, which is the only time this colour features on the canvas, giving added pizzaz to St Mark’s position as preacher. I also love the detail in the mosaic on the stairs to his makeshift pulpit.
Another aspect I noted was the wonderful variety of headwear featured in this piece. The Alexandria St Mark will have known was a multicultural city with up to three quarters of a million people living there from Egypt, Greece, Judea, Rome, Ethiopia and Nubia. This also meant a large diversity of religion, including the old Pharaonic religion, Hellenism, Roman Mythology and Judaism. I found it quite striking how the variety of religious groups are represented in this piece and their extraordinary hats. Remember this piece is 26 square metres. Imagine the minute brush strokes needed to produce shading this beautifully. Even the facial features imprinted in the veils, on this scale, are quite impressive.
Observe the wonderful shading in the turbans here and the way the light hits the silken garment worn by the central figure in this section. I’m a sucker for well represented fabric. Look at the scarves, the crumpled white fabric on the ground, the giraffe, the weave of the turban and the puffy sleeves. This is just masterful.
My final point of note is the beautifully depicted Mamluk architecture. we know that Gentile went to the new Ottoman capital Istanbul as part of the peace settlement between Venice and the Turks, but the accuracy in this architectural reproduction suggests he may have gotten as far as Jerusalem, no mean feat in the 15th Century.
Overall, I think this piece is quite stunning and absolutely deserving of a full post. I so look forward to going to Italy later this year and making a detour to Milan to see this fabulous masterwork.
