Now let us get the unpleasant aspects of this, and indeed many pubs around the country, out of the way: the music is unbearable. I live an existence surrounded by the most moving musical triumphs known to man. I’m often so shaken by the beauty of music that I’m brought to tears. Gosta Green’s music choice, however, ‘laisse à désirer’, as the French would say.
If one can move past the shocking choice; volume and quality of sound emanating from the speakers, Gosta Green is actually quite a charming pub. My friend St Nick, who is from Leeds, invited me to attend the weekly pub quiz. One more Yorkshireman turned up. Our heavenly threesome was then rudely interrupted by a Southerner. But my time in England has taught me that xenophobia is not desirable, and leads to people putting on strange accents to avoid it.
Blasting through my self-deprecation, the four of us took the quiz head on. The theme was ‘How I Met Your Mother’. I’ve never been one for Television so I didn’t know a damn thing about it! But you don’t want to hear about my general knowledge, let me say a few words about the pub itself.
The atmosphere at Gosta Green is as delightful as the food. During my time there, I sampled the halloumi fries and the mushroom wrap. From my first bite, it was clear to me that the oil they’d used to fry the halloumi was fresh and high quality. the crunch factor was excellent. As for my wrap, it was recommended by one of the barkeeps, who was herself a vegetarian. The wrap was delightful and filled well. The ingredients were clearly fresh and well put together. I had to add a little salt, but that’s perhaps on account of English people actually caring for their cardiovascular health. We the French don’t put such stock in our arteries!
The decoration; atmosphere and cider selection (try Lilley’s 6% one) is excellent. The location, too, is terribly central. I recommend this pub for a cool full or partial night out. I certainly had a good time. Except all those pesky Southerners.
Ah, Mr Brown! So many excellent and foggy memories stemmed from this bar. The drinks are dangerously cheap, the location is shockingly central. What more could one possibly ask for from a Roman bar?
The cocktails are all three euros fifty. The atmosphere is incomparable. One downside is that it opens relatively late. As a Brit, one makes a point of dining out around 6. Do not ask me why. I don’t understand the practice myself. Mr Brown opens at around 7, negating the possibility of an early sloshing.
Those more filthy among you will have their eyes drawn immediately to the bottom left hand corner of the above photograph. Mr Brown’s famous porno shot consists of chocolate liquor poured out of a skull shaped bottle. They are absolutely delightful and help anyone with deep seated issues forget their problems, for a short time at least.
The bar is well stocked with any and every possible alcohol you could desire. And the decor is really something. All over the walls and ceilings, you’ll find pop references to your heart’s delight. My favourite decoration is the poster of Fight Club on the ceiling in the back room. I was born on the same day as Brad Pitt, which s a fact I’m equally proud and disturbed by.
In all, Mr Brown is an iconic bar in the centre of Trastevere which very much deserves to be visited. You won’t spend anything and you’ll have a great time, even if you forget half of what you did. Let me know what you think!
Ho ho, Christmas is fast approaching. Have you bought disproportionate amounts of Linx body spray for your teenage relatives? Have you remembered the true meaning of Christmas as family and togetherness rather than unnecessary material possessions? Just checking!
Those of you who know what love means will simply adore this recipe. It’s superbly easy and delicious. Additionally, it is vegan – so you can have your soul warmed and feel good at the same time. So, here we go.
You’ll need a slow cooker and a hand held blender.
Ingredients:
500ml good tomato passata. The good stuff, from an Italian deli, or from Waitrose
250ml white wine (quality of cooking wine doesn’t matter, go for the cheap non-sparkling stuff)
500ml good quality vegetable stock
two celery sticks, chopped roughly
Two carrots, peeled and chopped roughly
One onion, chopped roughly
Two garlic cloves, crushed
16 basil leaves, plus more for the final garnish
rock salt and pepper, to taste
The beauty of slow cooking food is that it takes almost no work. You combine everything in your slow cooker, or big old pot, and set it on low. Then you leave. If you are doing it in a pot, rather than a slow cooker, you may have to stay with it to make sure it doesn’t burn at the bottom. Equally, you don’t want the house to burn down.
When you come back from whichever nefarious event you attended (be it work or university), the house will be replete with delightful smells. Use the hand blender to reduce everything to a gorgeous smooth soupy texture.
Then, garnish it with some more basil leaves. Your soup is now ready to be consumed at terminal velocity.
If you want to make it even more splendid, make croutons. You’d need to cut some slices of bread (preferably homemade) and fry them in some olive oil until they are crispy. Watch that they don’t burn, mind.
This dish is wonderful for winter. It soothes all ills and warms the soul. I hope you enjoy it.
Visiting private museums can be a difficult task in Rome, especially as a student. The vicious corporate overlords refuse even the most minor discount, driving up prices to fill their fat pockets.
You thought I’d gone mad then, didn’t you? Admit it. Honestly, this museum is a little more expensive than the rest, but the difference is only that of 2 euros. Which really isn’t so bad. But this museum is worth ever cent.
In the heart of Rome, right by Barberini metro station, you’ll find an impressive tall convent. Now it serves as a museum to the Capucin order. The real attraction for people is the marvellous crypt adjacent to the museum. We shall get to that in time. For me, the preamble to the crescendo of the crypt is just as impressive. Learning about the history of the Capucin order and how they came to undertake global good work is fascinating.
Now, those who know me will be aware that I am a sucker for old ivory carvings. New ivory, not so much. But pieces like this which exist in the realm of museums fascinate me. The gorgeous rendition of religious scenes always inspire me. To think someone can so deftly create pieces as magical as these.
This is my favourite piece in the museum. The resplendent rendition of the crucified Christ in ivory humbles me. One can see the pain and betrayal in this rendition. And mortality is a persistent theme in the Capucin museum. This is also a theme which haunts me on a daily basis.
Take care when walking through the museum, there is a beautiful Caravaggio in one of the recesses. This was not attributed to the masterful artist until relatively recently. This painting depicts St Francis in meditation and is simply breathtaking. One would be remiss to walk past it.
Finally, the truly outstanding part of this museum is the ultimate section.
A series of small chapels beneath the church of Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini contain the bones and mummified remains of an estimated 4,000 individuals. The Capuchin order believes the ossuaries are far from being macabre, that these remains of former friars are a silent reminder of our mortality and the passage of life on Earth.
One finds difficulty expressing the profound depth of the five chapels. One of my favourite quotes, perhaps ever, is on the placard just before entering the crypt:
“The soul sinks forlorn and wretched under all this burden of dusty death. Thank Heaven for its blue sky; it needs a long upwards gaze to give us back our faith.”
I hope this museum affects you as profoundly as it did me.
Moving to a new city has its challenges: meeting new people; settling into a new routine; adjusting to the bizarre new geography… But most of all, finding a suitable hairdresser.
Those of you who know me will be acutely aware that I have hair on my head. This hair does not behave according to the regular, predictable laws of physics. It needs shearing far more often than I’d like. Consequently, my second haircut in this city stampeded my way with frightening alacrity.
Being a terribly busy man about town, I do not have much free time throughout the week or indeed on the weekends. I needed somewhere which would not make me go too much out of my way. Especially given I am without a bike now, since being crushed to death by a fast moving taxi. Pickles and Co is perfectly situated in the middle of the Jewellery Quarter.
At first I was a little concerned at the price. Alarm bells rang as soon as I was offered a coffee. That is usually a bad sign for your bank manager. Then I looked around me and understood where the few extra pounds were to go.
The place is absolutely gorgeous. The downstairs area is even more aesthetically pleasing. The coffee, by the way, is superb. Of course it is difficult to go on at length about a hair cut. Other than to say a hair cut is a hair enhanced, one can can seldom expand on his follicle foibles.
Suffice to say, the service was outstanding. Tom sheared me with passion, assisted by his glamorous apprentice, Soloman. I was impressed by the care with which he cut my hair. It took around an hour, which made me feel as though I was getting value for money – a prized boon.
Call them on 0121 389 8498 to book an appointment. And tell Tom I say hello.
By now, one ought to recognise a common trend in my AOTM choices – magnitude. When listening to a new album, I search for that je ne sais quoi which sets apart a standard album from an outstanding work of art. A Secret Wish is such an album.
Picture this: Boney M and Kraftwerk have a baby. This baby in turn marries ABBA. Their offspring would be Propaganda. The shocking amalgamation of sounds is so very pleasant.
Their debut album, A Secret Wish, appeared just after ZTT had crested commercially in July 1985, and remains a fascinating addition to the clumsy, clattering canon of 80s electronica. Powered by the vocal mystery of Claudia Brücken, the sweetness of Susanne Freytag and the engine room of Michael Mertens and Ralf Dörper, the group was able to sate the European fantasies of the label. BBC Music.
The opening number, Dream Within a Dream, sets a sky high standard for what is to follow. You are initially entranced by Claudia Brücken’s distinctive Deutsche vocals, and out of nowhere, a resounding and unyielding bass-line elevates the track flawlessly.
Jewel and Sorry for Laughing are the only two tracks which I avoid. They lack the drive and mysticism of the other tracks. p:Machinery is particularly good. A cascading bass and synth combination holds up the track and gives it a unique aura. Listen out for the middle of the track, where an astounding bass – I don’t even know what to call it. Just hang on to your seats.
The rest of the album basks in the halo effect of its opener. Duel, their greatest hit, the track which gained them the oft-repeated epithet of being “Abba from hell”, chugs along full of pop frisson and fizz. Ibidum.
Dr Mabuse is another highlight from this album. “Why does it hurt when my heart misses the beat?”. Listening to the insidious weave of interdependent bass; synth and sparse drum beats, one can understand why the BBC refers to them as ‘ABBA from hell’.
A Secret Wish is massive. And if you’re not convinced by Propaganda’s genius, listen to this song from Claudia Brücken’s album A Million Other Things:
And now, if you’re ready, here is my second favourite tune from Ms Brücken:
