Guardian on curry

After that blog on coffee I pointed out, there’s now a post about curry! I’m starting to think that this guy is my long-lost twin. Personally I don’t select take-aways by type-face or size of menu, but rather by which uses the most outlandish spelling for dishes; the more extraneous h’s and z’s the better, in my opinion, a tantalisingly transliterated tikka jhalfrezzi is far more appealing that the usual fare. That said, my usual take away in Cambridge is the Pipasha, not because the food is good (though it often is), but rather that it’s never been bad. (And the chap who runs it once gave me a calendar, “for special customers only, sir.” I resolved to reduce the frequency of my visits after that.) Other take-aways and restaurants, while they have their high-points, usually end up serving me a lake of grease at some point, which really puts me off (the Moghul Tandoori used to be fantastic, but recently seems to have gone over to the greasy side. A shame, they used to do the best samosas. That said, maybe I shouldn’t criticise them for curries purchased after 10.30pm, they know I’m only there because I’m too drunk to a. cook and b. complain about the quality of the food.) Other people will say the best in Cambridge is the Tandoori Palace, seemingly mainly based on the Fourth Pickle. Seriously though, a fourth pickle is some kind of curry heresy; cucumber salad, lime pickle and mango chutney is all you need. Some may contend that the salad should be raitha, but deep down they must realise the error of their ways.

The post links to another, commenting on the Anjum Anand’s BBC2 show, Indian Food Made Easy. I can’t quite work out whether the author is being sarcastic or not, because that programme is easily topping my Most Irritating TV Show list at the moment. I love Indian food, so was excited to see a program about it, but something about Anjum makes me reach for the remote control. The camera work is clichéd Cookery Show out of focus shots and hand-held pans, her manner is distressingly condescending… grr. I just wish they’d chosen the host a bit more carefully; last year I went for an Indian cookery lesson with Renuka Patel, who was fantastic, and completely demystified the process of knocking together an authentic curry. (Not to blab the secrets, but a lot of it seems to be about using a mix of chillies and ginger to add heat to the dish.)

Warwick

No, not Warwick Davis, everyone’s favourite from Willow, but a new addition to my family of basses: a Warwick Fortress One.  I’d try and justify it, but frankly I fancied a new bass.  While my day at the Bass Gallery hadn’t found any bass that was definitely easier to play, none really stood out as more difficult; in addition, Tiago (Acuphuncture bassist) happens to have one of these bad boys and I like his tone, so when I saw one come up for sale on basschat I thought I’d pick it up.  As it turns out, it’s the revenge of “tone is in the fingers,” and I still sound shit   The main thing that the new bass has shown me is that you really, really have to change your strings more often than you think: the ones on my Yamaha are totally dead.  My plan is to try both basses for a while, decide which one I prefer then sell the other, so I’ll definitely have to restring the yammy just to make a fair comparison.

Bears don’t like slap bass

Random bit of YouTubery:

Acuphuncture at La Raza

Acuphuncture played at a bar in town on Wednesday night, which was a pleasant change from the soulless gymnasium we played in last time. My challenge this time was to play along with Katie on the melody for Herbie Hancock’s Butterfly, and it revealed that while I’ve got my 16ths and general timing a lot more together than it has been in the past, I’ve mainly been focussed on bass playing, and so most of my practice has been on short, repetitive, one or two bar phrases. The melody for Butterfly mixes long sustained notes with syncopated linking phrases, and this highlighted that while I can count 16ths through short sections, I will often stop counting during long notes and so end up losing my place. Still, I think I managed to muddle through well enough, and it’s something I’ll keep working on.

Other than that minor worry for myself, the gig went well! Hopefully they’ll invite us back to play again; it’d be nice to get some more regular gigs with Acuphuncture, as it’s a fun band to play in. Currently there are a few mp3s that I recorded (using my minidisc player as discussed previously, so not great quality) available here, so you can check it out for yourself (though I forgot to turn the machine on at the start of the gig, so we lost Chameleon).

A blow to the confidence

Casa played at a local company’s summer BBQ on Sunday; this time I was on guitar, with Diccon on bass. I decided to take along my minidisc recorder to to tape the gig; last time I’d used it, the damn thing gave up half-way through and lost a load of good stuff, and Tom had asked me to record this Wednesday’s Acuphuncture gig at La Raza, so I wanted to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong with the MD.

The great thing about real life is that usually when you make a mistake, the passage of time will gently ease you further and further from the source of your embarrassment. This protection is removed, of course, by the creation of some permanent record; one can enjoy every crap solo, mis-timed bit of rhythm playing, and pencil-thin distortion tone again and again and again to one’s heart’s discontent. How enervating.

I’ve actually noticed this a few times before; I think I’ve got a reasonable live tone, or at least one that’s surprisingly recognisable as “me” despite using various guitars and a couple of amps. However, every time I listen to a recording of bands I’m in, I think I sound shit. They say tone is in the fingers: it seems my fingers are brown. There are a few samples available here, though I’m actually only playing in one of the three that are there at the moment (I always grab some percussion for the latin tunes). I don’t know, maybe I’m my own worst critic. This gig was supposed to be a boost towards this Wednesday’s gig with Acuphuncture at La Raza, but now I’m just worried.

I’m cooking up

I spotted an article in the Guardian about an issue dear to my heart: the real black gold, coffee. In the case of the article, it’s the quest for a decent cappuccino.  I’ve used pretty much every method for making coffee that’s available, from instant through to espresso machine.  I’ve come to the conclusion that filter machines make a slightly better cup of coffee than cafetieres but take up far too much space in your kitchen (and don’t look half as cool), and while stove-top espresso machines are great for making a thick black goo containing enough caffeine to keep Rip Van Winkle awake, it’s rare that I can get either a good cup of coffee or shot of espresso out of them.  For what it’s worth I buy my beans from the chap on Cambridge Market; I think his “German Blend” is the best.  And while I agree with this article that you should grind before you drink, I keep my beans in the freezer and have one of those crappy blade-based “grinders”.  A friend once suggested popping a cardamom pod in with the beans when I grind for an extra flavour; I’ve never done this, but it certainly sounds interesting.  Every time I consider trying it we’re either out of cardamom, or the pods look withered and old, which always puts me off.

At work we’ve got a cheap espresso machine on which I’ve been practising my barista skills, and this has led to the same conclusion as the Guardian article: most cappuccinos that you buy in shops are way too milky, or their coffee tastes burnt.  I’m not saying that I continually churn out cappuccinos that an Italian would be proud of, but at least the foam usually holds together all the way down the cup, although I fall foul of usually making the espresso too soon after frothing the milk.  Also I can’t be arsed with making the espresso in a separate cup, so I froth the milk then make the espresso straight through the top of the foam (which you can see the effect of in the picture).

The Beautiful Light

Sounds like it could be a band, but actually The Beautiful Light is a friend’s photography website.  You might have seen one of Jane’s photos before because she snapped off a load of shots at our wedding,  one of which I uploaded to my flickr site.  If she can manage to make Casa look mean and moody, she can do anything.