Those of you who haven’t heard of Digbeth Dining Club must be deaf. Being such a large collective of individual retailers, I have not known how to broach the subject on Cedric Suggests. It dawned on me, mid munch, that I should just review each individual stall. This approach has two main benefits. Firstly, you get to read in depth reviews about stalls to better inform your Digbeth purchases. Secondly, I get to eat a lot of food at each stall. Winner winner, burger for dinner. That’s how it goes, right?
The monstrosity you see before you is called the Piggy Bank. The rather moribund title derives from the black pudding, pork crunch and bacon which top the generous beef patty. Now, before you spit out your tea, consider that this was my second course. Now you may spit out your tea.
The seeded brioche bun was a thing of beauty also. The burger was held together by mustard, mayonnaise, ketchup and gherkins, all of which only added to the brilliance and cholesterol of this burger. I recommend it to those of you who are up for a challenge. You get a lot for your £8.
The first time I went to this place, I had a sweet burger. Now, having eaten burgers all over the world, this was a first for me. The Sweet Freak consists of a beef patty, bacon, peanut butter, sweet chilli jam, caramel, a waffle, cheese and maple syrup. If you thought the first one was unhealthy, you were right. This one too is a shock to the cistern.
Digbeth is a wonderful part of town and ought to be spoken of more often and more highly. I encourage you to go and sample the Dining Club’s fine wares on your next weekend evening. Please note they are not open in the week.
Where to begin talking about the Wallace Collection? Housed in Hertford House on the picturesque Manchester Square in central London, it is home to thousands of beautifully curated items. From delicious Rococo chairs to internet famous Laughing Cavalier, this collection is as varied as it is impressive.
The Wallace Collection is a national museum which displays the wonderful works of art collected in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries by the first four Marquesses of Hertford and Sir Richard Wallace, the son of the 4th Marquess. It was bequeathed to the British nation by Sir Richard’s widow, Lady Wallace, in 1897. The Wallace Collection
To save my readers a lengthy and uninformative read, I shall focus my efforts on my favourite pieces from the Collection. The first of which was a wonderful dagger from the early 17th century. It was given to a young Prince Khurram, son of the Mughal Emperor Jahangir, ass a reward for his successful military campaign in south central India. In addition to the dagger, the Prince was given the title of Shah Jahan, a name which will be familiar to those of you who have visited India. He is responsible for most of the garish temples in Agra and some more impressive, architecturally interesting forts around the country. It is pictured below.
Another stand out piece for me was an oil painting just to the right of the great gallery. Painted between 1655-1660, this work by the celebrated marine painter William Van de Velde the Younger represents what I consider the best in impressionism. As you well know, the French invaded the Netherlands in 1672. The Van De Veldes fled to England where Charles II gave them a house in Greenwich, access to Queen’s House as a studio and a salary of £100 each. This particular work portrays a fishing vessel with its accompanying kaag, a cargo vessel (to the left). Please also note the incredible fabric wallpaper which astounded me throughout Hertford House.
The final piece I shall highlight is rather predictably, the Rembrandt. Or more specifically, the two. The first is of the man himself, and the next of his son, Titus.
Interestingly, Titus is the only one of Rembrandt’s five children who outlived him, though the boy only lived to 26. This was perhaps old age at the time (1663) of the Plague being at its most rife. I’ll let you make your own conclusions about these two pieces.
Overall, The Wallace Collection was a lovely fresh and free breath of air in an otherwise congested and costly London. I suggest to anyone with an artistic flair or desire to multiply the ways in which they exist.
When Louise proposed that we went to see the latest Almodovar, my immediate thoughts turned to La Piel Que Habito, which I saw some years ago. I was so disturbed by the simply grotesque plot that I expected something of equal horror here. Sadly, this is due in fact to my own ignorance of the great scope of Almodovar’s work. As with the aforementioned film, Almodovar manages to take a subject close to heartbreaking and make something beautiful and important out of it.
Banderas, winner of the Best Actor award at Cannes, is immense but tiny. His performance is world-weary and downcast, trying to reconcile himself with his past while not having the strength to deal with the present. It’s an actor opening himself up to share doubts and expose frailties without a hint of showboating. Empire
Dolor y Gloria (Pain and Glory) follows the story of a director, Salvador, being forced to reconcile himself with his past when asked to do a retrospective of his 1980s hit, Sabor. This brings him face to face with his estranged lead actor, Alberto Crespo (Etxeandia). Through a whirlwind romance with heroin, episodes from Salvador’s youth give us a wonderfully clear and shocking picture of the director’s life. The tale of love and loss, of struggle against sexuality and parental expectation is told with extraordinary tenderness.
He has been autobiographical before — Law Of Desire, Bad Education — but never so open-heartedly. Just as Salvador is a filmmaker jaded by life and cinema, Almodovar is the opposite. Pain & Glory beautifully negotiates the past and present to land in a personal place the filmmaker has never been before. Long may he stay there. Empire
One of the most striking aspects of this film for me was the use of colours. Red is the most prominent, featuring on jackets, chairs, doors and in paintings throughout the scenes in the film. Importantly perhaps was the absurdly bright doctor’s lounge. Almodovar has enormous control over his colour palette which translates very well in the film.
I’m not terribly well versed in film reviews, I find in the necessity to hide the main plot points but give a full account of the salient points and reasonings for one needing to see the film quite daunting. Nonetheless, I am more well versed in ignoring people’s opinions, so I’ll just carry on.
For me, the standout moment was just before one of Crespo’s performances. He is wearing a beautiful silk shirt and is dancing to the opening bars of Grace Jones’ La Vie en Rose, the first song from her first album. It’s only for a few seconds but it affected me greatly. Grace Jones is a great inspiration of mine. The song talks about falling in love and seeing life through rose tinted glasses as a result. I’ve never been addicted to heroin, but I imagine this is the impression Almodovar was trying to convey in tandem with being addicted to love in the context of the play within the film.
Dolor y Gloria is possibly the best film I have seen this year. It is a wonderfully moving pseudo-biographical work which says something important about pain and growth. I recommend this to you whole heartedly.
When my father suggests I listen to an album, I make a note of it and put it aside in my parental notes box. This box also includes such chestnuts of advice as “you must be careful with money” and “don’t get hit by cars on the Hagley Road”. Much like these nuggets of wisdom, introducing me to SAHB was a prime example of ‘Pater knows best’. Framed is a masterpiece to be sure. And the fact it is their debut is just astonishing.
Stage set for something far more theatrical, he unleashed the extraordinary textures of Framed with the Sensational Alex Harvey Band, including Hammer Song (later covered By Nick Cave) and the epic Midnight Moses, while also dabbling with the witchcraft heroine Isobel Goudie and the superbly detailed Mafia-mobster-goes-to-the-electric-chair melodrama There’s No Lights On The Christmas Tree, Mother, They’re Burning Big Louie Tonight. Louder Sound
I’m frequently at a loss when writing music reviews. Reading other people’s reviews makes me realise how little I know about music in general, despite knowing a great deal more than I am expected to know. One thing which sticks out to me is how genuine Framed is as an album. There is raw passion and pain visible to those who care to listen. Framed is packed full of energy and power.
The Hammer Song is a feat of rock and roll. The carefully crafted lyrics lead you to a conclusion in the lives of each of the character that the song portrays and then blows them up with a rock medley mid song which almost made me fall off of my chair at work, where I first heard it. This reminded me of Utopia’s Hiroshima, which had the same idea, except to demonstrate monstrosity rather than career complications.
If we’re talking classic 70’s rock riffs, ‘Midnight Moses’ has to be one of my favourites. A stop-start blues lick that doubles up on timing before giving way to a thunderous bass and drums rocker. Then there’s the singing. Having showcased a mellower style at the start of ‘Hammer Song’, Harvey really goes for the raw rock singing here, that accent again colouring the lyrics – far too many to mention here, though special credit to him for rhyming ‘Geneva’ with ‘Fever’. Genius. Head Heritage
Another highlight for me is Framed itself. Alex Harvey never strays from his Glaswegian vernacular, making it very clear at points throughout this album but especially in Framed. He embodies the pain in being wrongly accused beautifully. You wouldn’t blame him for being blue, and the SAHB play this song to a blues backing most apposite for the subject matter.
A lot of people seem to think Midnight Moses is the best track on this album. It is doubtless a thing of advanced rock n roll prowess. The track shows that Alex Harvey’s decision to merge with Tear Gas, a then failing rock and roll band, was one of the wisest of his career.
I liked There’s No Lights on the Christmas Tree Mother. The beginning was something near Dusty Springfield, and the bass is persistent throughout the track. In an almost country twist, this track is a real toe tapper. Harvey’s sensational Scottish accent remains a highlight. “Mardah in the first dagree!”
Overall, this debut album sent shock waves through British pop culture in 1972 and remains as fresh as the day it was released. This is a surprising and delightful album which should see you head banging on public transport or singing along in your vehicle as you listen to it for the third time in a row. Seriously, Framed is not an album to miss.
Having been in London some 12 hours, it was time we eat solid food. I headed to Maylebone to meet Nick and Emily. I had read about this place in the Evening Standard. I imagine I am not the only one who did so. The cheap bacon butty was surreptitiously taken off the menu and we were left with prodigiously expensive options. This was precisely the reason I avoid most of London. One needs to take a mortgage out on their cat to be able to afford anything, it’s senselessly off-putting.
But at the peril of re-arranging last minute, I took a chance with Boxcar.
As you can see from the above picture, Saturday brunch at Boxcar is exactly as pretentious as it looks. Emily’s delicious breakfast consisted of seasonal berries, lemon, buttermilk, honey & granola, all fresh from the bakery up the road which also belongs to Boxcar. I was allowed a spoonful. The buttermilk and homemade yoghurt was a highlight for me. Of course there is always a lot to be said for fresh fruit, but the underlaying creamy pillow, if you will, is the tethering factor in any breakfast.
St Nick and I opted for the bubble & squeak. That is to say, poached egg, smoked tomato, beer & treacle bacon. As you’ll notice, the bacon was cut most thickly. Cooking anything in alcohol often sets St Nick off. Being an alcoholic, he cannot resist this frothy yeasty water mix, no matter which obstacles you put in his way. He will always find a way to defy logic and sense for a sip of that delicious sickly liquid broth. The bubble & squeak itself is a mix of cooked cabbage and potato, deep fried. Boxcar’s version was made of delightfully fine potato and cabbage. One never gets used to the slightly sour taste this early in the day, but it is well worth it.
In terms of the quality of the poached egg… I shall leave this picture of the smashed avocado toast with the gorgeous thick fennel seeds as evidence. An aerial shot of the same is about to follow.
Boxcar had the courtesy to ask ‘how smashed would you like it?’ which is an extraordinary question in and of itself.
Overall, Boxcar is an eatery of undeniable quality. From the service to the ingredients used, one is guaranteed an excellent experience. I recommend it to those in the Marylebone area. This place is a few steps away from the cultural epicentre of Marylebone, but is far removed enough to avoid the general public. A fateful cocktail indeed.
