Having visited Bletchley Park and absorbed as much information as we could bear, Adomas (formerly “The satanist with a small S”) and I felt a bit peckish. Little did we know that just around the corner from this intellectual powerhouse lay a house of a different ilk…
Finding the House of Chicken might be one of my greatest achievements. This Portuguese restaurant represented everything I love about dining. Situated on the fringes of Bletchley town, HoC is far away from famous monuments, and even further away from dreadful tourists. You’d really have to desire dining here to find it. Thankfully, Adomas and I were determined to feast on prime quality meat.
We started as we meant to go on with a delectable char-grilled chorizo sausage. HoC grilled the whole thing and presented it to us, simply, on a plate. This ticks another box on my ‘Best Restaurant’ list; namely that the food is presented in an unpretentious manner. I hate small non-comestible silly things littered across my plate. I want food as it was intended to be eaten: simply.
Though not presented pretentiously, this was a sausage with which to be reckoned. From the first morsel, we were in culinary nirvana. Crunchy on the outside and quite difficult to cut; the rewards from defeating this sausage were manifold. Waves of explosive flavour fill your every sinew. At £4.50 a piece, I could not recommend this enough. We also feasted on the meat risolles; deep fried concoction of mince, onion, garlic, herbs, egg and breadcrumbs. Again, sterling quality dish, presented simply.
Next we moved onto the main. I opted for the pork ribs. Since leaving Bletchley Park, I had an insatiable urge to eat ribs. HoC satisfied my urges in ways I could only dream of hitherto. Their ribs were succulent and full of flavour. One tends to feel like a Neanderthal when eating ribs but filthy fingers are a small price to pay for such well made ribs. Ogle at them in their glory in the picture below.
Being a man of the world; Adomas went for the chicken wings. He told me they were the greatest he had ever tasted, which is no small feat considering his advanced age. I had the honour of savouring one. I must say they were impressive. Normally I wouldn’t eat such things because of my beard and implacable snobbism, but I am glad I put my shortcomings aside. They were so delicious, I kept looking for more bits of chicken to separate from the bone. They fell with such ease. Each fry you see was hand peeled and cut in the restaurant on the day.
One thing which took me aback in HoC was their attention to detail. This is a family run Portuguese restaurant. They treat their guests like family. Miguel fully stayed with us 10 minutes to explain every aspect of the menu. This was in spite of the heaving masses surrounding us. I was impressed by the sensibility and kindness of the staff as well as their efficiency.
The home-made desserts were the last thing to truly amaze us. Chocolate mousse and Portuguese custard tart. Both clearly made freshly and by hand. Both thoroughly satisfying. They are pictured below.
It is impossible to not enjoy House of Chicken. The prices are so low they will make your head spin. And the quality is so high, you’ll think you’re flying. Trust me, I know.
After a successful morning in late April, I found myself hungry. A quick peruse of The Fork, an app which I insist you download if you’re in Europe, I found this restaurant. I had looked at it before, when I lived in Rome. But I was never brave enough to try such an odd cuisine. Vegans are unique enough but Solo Crudo does what it says on the tin – it only provides raw food. The warmest temperature which this food experiences during the preparation process is 42°C.
What does this mean? No bread, for one. The closest thing you’ll get are crackers. But what crackers. Made from dried zucchini and celery. Dried for hours at 42 degrees in a fan oven. I’ve pictured them below. Another variety of them are made with chilli; coconut & buckwheat flour and walnuts. I won’t lie, the concept is a bit odd but very rewarding.
But enough cracking conversation; let’s go onto the breathtaking starter. Stuffed pumpkin flowers; on a bed of cherry tomato & oregano pesto; red peppercorns and capers. My word my word. I didn’t think food with virtually no intervention could be made to taste so phenomenal. Writing about it now, two months later; I can still recall my shock at the first morsel. The depth of notes of flavour is astonishing. I’ve pictured them below for your perusal:
Next was the Fake caccio e pepe. This is my absolute second favourite Roman pasta dish. Usually it is made with black pepper; pecorino and some cooking water. That is all. Solo Crudo took it seven notches further. The pasta, traditionally cooked flour and water, was made from grated zucchine. The sauce was not made from cheese and pepper, rather pepper with cashew cheese and cooked mushrooms. The furthest thing you could imagine from a traditional Caccio e pepe. But one must be open minded in these modern times. this dish was both novel and surprising. One could say it is a bit sickly. But when you get past the unusual vegan cheese, it is a relatively pleasant dish. Marvel at it below.
Hemisphere of cooked apple at low temperature with passito wine and cinnamon, custard orange cream
I felt it was necessary to try a dessert. The apple sweetness was an optimal choice. You wouldn’t believe what a delightful combination the above ingredients made. The apple was not at all crunchy. Its texture was soft and replete with sweetness. Topped with vegan mint chocolate, this dish will surprise you.
While you’re in the area, have a look at Chiesa Sacro Cuore del Suffragio. Splendidly Gothic, it lies on the banks of the Tiber and is truly worth seeing, whether you’re a good Catholic boy like me, or not.
On a brief sojourn to Roma Tre, as aforementioned, I was advised by my dear friend Ginebri to visit Santa Cecilia. I wasn’t prepared for just how spectacular this secluded church would be.
Splendid marble adorns every wall. The altar is made of the most glorious gold. The concave mosaic behind the altar marks the original spot of the first 3rd century church. It is said that Santa Cecilia in Trastevere was built over the home of the saint herself.
Here is a closer look at the mosaic and the altar. The church was restored in 822 to its current position. Look closely underneath it. You’ll see a sculpture quite unique in style. It reminded me fondly of the Veiled Christ in Museo Capella Sansevero in Naples. I saw a miniature version of my favourite sculpture from the Capella in the Royal Palace in Madrid during a temporary exhibition. Well worth a visit to all three linked cities and monuments.
After you have enjoyed a thorough walk through the church, take a look downstairs. It costs some two euros but it is worth it. St. Cecilia is buried there. Pope Paschal I spared no expense.
The magnificent tomb of St Cecilia is ominous to behold. Buried there are the remains of several other saints. Take some time to walk around the foundations of this church to end in the crescendo that is the tomb.
Above the church are some ancient Calvani frescoes. I suggest you go early in the morning to see them before they close around midday.
While you’re there, why not walk a few steps further and eat a meal in Supplí? You won’t be disappointed!
Okay. Let’s talk about Todd again. I don’t know how this person ever graced the Earth. We surely do not deserve him.
Some months ago, I thought Todd could not exceed Something/Anything. How wrong I was. Utopia is nothing short of an aural miracle. Such a density of ideas has seldom been seen or heard before. I have no superlatives in my vast arsenal which can adequately surmise the magnificence of this album.
From start to finish, Utopia did not falter. Peaking at #34 on the Pop Album chart, this seminal 1974 record sold very well. Please excuse my excitement. I was driving on the A42 on the way to Nottingham earlier and this album made me cry. Throughout my journey I would cry on a total of four occasions. This album is the stuff from which dreams are made.
In a way,
you are just a soldier of the mind
Utopia’s brilliance is pushed further when I discovered it was recorded live at The Secret Sound and The Fox Theater in Atlanta, Georgia, on April 25th, 1974. Todd Rundgren was 26 when he created and produced Utopia. Do I need to keep going? I must.
The first track; Utopia Theme, is shocking enough. Especially at the point where Todd himself walks on stage and the entire mood of the song pivots.
The Freak Parade is my second favourite track. Follow it as it gradually builds up the layers of sound; adding a previous melody to a new one, ending in a gorgeous club sandwich of sound. You’ll hear what I mean.
Freedom Fighters gives you a short break from lengthy songs to prepare you for what is coming. It’s in its own way a protest song. Maybe protesting the current popular thought. But the melody is unique and dreadfully catchy.
And the music plays forever
And it captures every ear
And the sound of barriers crashing down
Is the sweet harmony you hear
Finally, The Ikon is a strange yet striking 34(!) minute song. It venerates a mystical being called the Ikon which seems to open people’s minds when worshipped. I know it sounds trippy and you’re probably wondering what I imbibed, but I urge you to pay close attention to this song. It is replete with splendour and variety. Halfway through there is a brief pause where Todd plays bizarre percussion signalling the next step in the song. Listen once again how Rundgren uses techniques established in The Freak Parade. He once again introduces melodies but this time layers them in different combinations. Sometimes with or without ones previously introduced. It’s really quite a phenomenal experience.
Someone knows who you are
Someone watches over you
Someone knows how you feel
And someone feels the same
Floods of tears erupt when I hear those words.
I cannot impress upon you the scale of the contribution Utopia makes to progressive rock. Nor can I tell you of how profoundly it has affected me. I am in awe of Todd Rundgren. Utopia is a magnificent success.
After a fairly successful morning, I wandered the searing streets of Rome. I’d had a delightful meeting with my dear friend Ginebri at Roma Tre. He recommended that I visit the church of S. Cecilia. So off I went. I waited three years for the 23 bus to alight. Then my trotters took me to Trastervere. On my way to this marvellous area of Rome, I tried to stop at Santa Cecilia. Of course Google maps is not accustomed to small narrow streets and slightly unusual addresses. Hence I ended up in Ospedale S. Francesca Romana.
Along the garden and up the stairs, you’ll enter the chapel. Take note of the ornate tiles and charming marble altar. Further in you’ll come to a room filled with beds. This is the most accurate representaion of how the hospital functioned in times gone by.
Take note of the dusty tomes behind glass enclosures flanking each side of this hall. They contain fascinating information about the day to day running of this establishment.
Upstairs is a gallery full of information about the history of the museum. This is replete with sordid tales of papal preference and government intervention. I won’t recount the whole story for you here, it remains for you to find out about this wonderful place by yourselves on your next visit to Rome.
Perhaps my favourite part of this hidden museum is the 12th century church, which closes one’s visit. Look inside carefully and take note of the various artefacts denoting scenes of great importance to the life of this church. My personal favourite is found beneath the archway of the original entrance. A glorious ancient painted cross adorns the wall.
I hope you enjoy the benign majesty of this museum as much as I have.
