24 May 2011

My piece for today’s Agenda Sydney:

A live electronic music scene in Sydney?

Yes, really – although you’d be forgiven for thinking such a thing doesn’t exist, dominated by indie rock as our live music scene is.

Thankfully (and about time, we say), a brand-new club event is set to readdress the balance by promoting Sydney’s best electronic dance bands – and the inaugural night’s looking set to be one helluva party.

Electric Zoo has already garnered an impressive following on Facebook, with fans keen to support local acts at this Saturday’s electro feast. From the “cheeky aesthetics” of Divine Knights to the ’80s pop-esque Garcon Garcon, there’ll be live synths, guitars, vocals and drum machines galore.

Better yet, Electric Zoo’s kicking off at “one of the most amazing venues in the city”. Not your average venue, Marrickville’s Red Rattler Theatre is a new breed: underground in vibe and overboard in great artistic talent.

Hailed as Sydney’s only fully legit underground venue, the Rattler is a converted warehouse space with a great sound system, a crowd of clued-up music lovers and a late licence. Throw six live synth-pop and experimental electronica acts into the mix, and you have the ingredients for a far-from-tame night, Inner West style.

There aren’t any set times, so you’re encouraged to turn up early, hit the dance floor and enjoy the whole night, sampling the sounds of the best Sydney has to offer. “Bring your dancing shoes,” says organiser and ‘Zookeeper’ Matthew Parsons.

So there you have it: Electric Zoo, where feeding the animals is most definitely allowed, especially if it’s a diet of beats and bass.

Where: Red Rattler Theatre | 6 Faversham St, Marrickville
When: Sat 28 May | 8pm-1am
Phone: (02) 9565 1044
Price: $15, at the door only
Details: redrattler.org

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2011: The year of the bridesmaid? Mail Online // 23 May 2011

My piece for Daily Mail Online, NYC:

It’s never good to be on the receiving end of the euphemism ‘always the bridesmaid, never the bride’. But 2011, it seems, is shaping up to be the year of the second lady. It’s time, finally, for the bridesmaid to shine.

It all started with the unexpected eclipse of the Duchess of Cambridge by her younger sister, the holder of that ass, Pippa Middleton.

Not only did this maid of honour steal the show with her composed poise, stunning dress, svelte figure and apparent perfection in bridesmaid duties, but her pert rear has garnered a global online fanbase with its own Facebook page, website and Twitter account. Not bad for a supporting role.

Outshining the bride: All eyes were on Pippa Middleton when her sister Catherine married Prince William at Westminster Abbey last month

The 27-year-old is now not only the apple of the paparazzi’s eyes, having recently been snapped in Madrid in the company of ex-boyfriend George Percy, but her status as England’s most famous bridesmaid is helping to boost the sales of everything from fake tans to bottom-lifts – and she is a hotly-tipped contender for the FHM’s Sexiest Woman 2012 award.

Mr Percy, 26, one of Miss Middleton’s old flames, is one of Britain’s richest men – they frolicked together in Madrid’s Retiro Park just days ago, giving the now-world-famous Berkshire girl a well-earned break from pomp and ceremony.

But he’s not alone in his apparent admiration of Miss Middleton. Prince Harry looked more than happy standing next to the brunette beauty on the day of the wedding. Could it be that being a bridesmaid is once again the way to ensnare an eligible bachelor?

‘Finally, a bridesmaid who looked brilliant in her own right. Pippa proved that you can have a good time and be the centre of attention’

Emma Lemont, 29, a fashion assistant from London has been a bridesmaid five times – in churches as spread apart as London, New York and Sydney. She told MailOnline that seeing Pippa Middleton steal the show has given the job a boost.

She said: ‘Finally, a bridesmaid who looked brilliant in her own right. Pippa reminded me that you can have a good time and be the centre of attention as a bridesmaid.

‘All the hard work pays off and it’s always fun in the end – especially if you win some admirers.’

With all the Middleton furore, it’s perhaps not surprising that attention has now turned to the wedding of the other Kate M – supermodel Kate Moss, whose nuptials are set for July 2.

Supporting role: Kate Moss (left) is said to have asked fellow supermodel Naomi Campbell (right) to be her maid of honour when she marries Jamie Hince in July

Miss Moss will marry rocker beau Jamie Hince and, with their glittering cast of celebrity friends, musicians, models and designers, the celebration is set to again capture the imaginations of more than just their private congregation.

Speculation over who the 37-year-old will choose as her bridesmaid has turned to fellow supermodel and friend since their teens, Naomi Campbell, who will not confirm whether she will be part of the bridal party.

Stealing the limelight: Keira Knightley was bridesmaid at her brother' wedding last month

Stealing the limelight: Keira Knightley said she was ‘the worst bridesmaid ever’ at her brother’ wedding last month

‘Now that would be telling,’ she said coyly.

Stamina will certainly help Miss Moss’ right-hand-woman, as the celebrations will reportedly take the shape of a mini-festival, lasting for three days at the couple’s Oxfordshire home.

Either way, whoever the lucky lady turns out to be, her duties are many – and as any bridesmaid can tell you, it involves more than looking pretty and holding the train on the special day.

As the new Hollywood blockbuster, Bridesmaids, shows, a maid of honour’s role can be daunting and, at times, thankless.

This chick flick with a difference is produced by maestro Judd Apatow, responsible for the likes of The 40 Year Old Virgin, Forgetting Sarah Marshall and Superbad all reaching cult status in the ‘dude comedy’ genre.

Grossing $25 million in its first weekend, the movie is hailed as a female version of The Hangover – a laugh-a-minute look at the not-so-glamorous sides of maid of honour traditions.

Down-on-her-luck Annie, a thirty-something singleton, is having a bad year. Thanks to the GFC, she lost her bakery and her boyfriend and things aren’t improved when lifelong best friend, Lillian, announces her engagement.

Determined to make her best friend’s hen do, wedding dress shopping and big day a success, Annie embarks on her bridesmaid duties – and a series of hilarious mishaps and misfortunes.

It’s been called ‘one of the greatest comedies of all time’, with the mostly female cast propelling the figure of bridesmaid out of the shadows and into the limelight – and dispelling any romantic visions of the dubious honour of Chief Bridesmaid along the way.

And it was only a matter of time for fashion to catch on to the bridesmaid trend. Brides, it seems, can no longer get away with dressing their maids in frocks from hell.

There was always going to be a race to sell replicas of the Duchess of Cambridge’s gown, but the sartorial fever over her sister’s dress has seen online dress shops go into overdrive.

Chick flick with a difference: Bridesmaids stars Kristen Wiig (third left) as Annie, who is named maid-of-honour for her best friend’s wedding

Imitation Pippa gowns are retailing for as little as $295, after the silk and lace design by Alexander McQueen creative, Sarah Burton, became an instant hit at the Royal Wedding on April 29.

And while we’re sure that Miss Middleton will want to hang on to what must be one of the only flattering bridesmaid’s dresses in existence, other, less lucky girls may want to turn to new fashion initiative, NewlyMaid, which turns bridesmaids dresses into hot fashion property after their big day.

NewlyMaid works with clothing charity Clothes4Souls and eco-label Repreve to transform even the most embarrassing bridesmaid frock into an altogether more wearable Little Black Dress.

It offers customers who donate their unwanted bridesmaid dresses a 30 to 50 per cent discount on useful LBDs. 27 Dresses’ Katherine Heigl would surely be a fan.

So, from gorgeous maid of honour role models to Hollywood blockbusters, it seems the hard task of being a bridesmaid is, at last, as fashionable as ever.

Now just make sure to catch the bouquet.

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Gill v Bourdain at the Sydney Writers’ Festival, Evening Standard // 23 May 2011

My Australia blog for the London Evening Standard:

Now, I’m not one for fisticuffs but when I see something advertised as “Food Fighters”, I want to see a fight. Of sorts.

So you will understand my disappointment when, last week, this lacklustre Sydney Writers’ Festival chaired session puttered to a weak little close, the previously buoyed punters around me affecting a collective shrug instead of the double thumbs-up we had expected. We were left both hungry and bored and without a glimpse of blood, guts, sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll.

It was, you see, AA Gill versus Anthony Bourdain. And the topic was food. And the venue was the wonderful old Sydney Town Hall. A recipe for success, you’d have thought.

But when you have two huge egos, deliciously verbose descriptions, third-degree ADD, mouths like building site dunnies, competitive Alpha male DNA and more than a thousand pairs of eyes on you, even the most slam-dunk, air-tight, hermetically sealed recipes for success can go, well, a little floppy. Overegged and undercooked.

Sorry, event MC Tony Bilson, Australian chef and culinary legend in these parts, you may be a “Godfather of Australian gastronomy” but you were poorly cast. You were a lamb to the offal-obsessed, one-tracked slaughter. The event ought to have been compared by a comedienne, a feisty woman who could mock, flirt and belittle with a raised eyebrow. Gill 1, Bourdain 1, Bilson nil. I hope you have recovered.

Now that I have got that out of my system, I can report that the SWF, was, by most accounts, a gleaming success. The sun shone in true Sydney style, flaming autumnal colours mellowed by a lovely soft light. In spite of the Food Fighters flop, “AA Gill is here” was a highlight for me, the theatre of mostly grey heads twittering (in the old sense of the word) to his filthy tales of dildos, anal sex and one-night-stands. It was all suitably hammed up for the antipodean audience, Gill’s cut-glass accent a get-out-of-jail card for any offence that he may have caused. Anyone who can tell a theatre full of grannies (whom he had already insulted several times) that “if you want to use a cucumber for a dildo, peel it first” has my vote. Psychopath or not, I’d wager the man knows how to make a lady of any age blush.

There’re too many plum one-liners to list here, but there were moments of serious, anthropological-ish reflection amongst the self-serving smut. The main differences between England and Australia (and Australia’s only redeeming feature) according to Adrian Gill? Australia is always looking forwards whilst England nostalgically mourns a lost, supposedly better past.

As for his shameless Aussie bagging, though, I had to laugh. “You and I come from very different places.” Long pause. “Obviously.”

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Wasted: one man’s waste is another man’s fuel // 16 May 2011

My Evening Standard blog today:

Having grown up with my grandma’s wartime stories and borderline obsessive dedication to the ‘waste not, want not’ school of domesticity, I am not one to quibble about ingredient thrift. So, trend-driven as it may be, I see nothing wrong with Wasted’s wholesome philosophy: a dining experiment, reinventing and serving foods that would otherwise be given the heave-ho.

You can only assume, then, that the utterer of “all things are cheap to the saving, dear to the wasteful”, Benjamin Franklin, would have jolly well approved of Wasted, too. But alas, Franklin and I are in the minority – especially in Sydney, where GFC-related stinginess hasn’t encroached on meat-heavy, offal-light menus (not much ox-tail, pork belly and the like around here).

So it was with no small amount of intrigue that I headed to Wasted, housed for three days only in a tiny modified café, complete with movie projections, old wool bags, brown paper and tealights. What are a young British chef and a savvy Aussie attempting by serving the rubbishy parts of animals and vegetables to spoilt Sydneysiders?

To straighten things out from the get-go: no, the meal wasn’t cooked from the fruits of dumpster-diving missions. In fact, a lot of it was very hard to procure – very hard indeed, thanks to the Australian fixation on legislation and squeamish fear of anything that isn’t pure, bright muscle.

The self-deprecating boy from Shoreditch, Dougie McMaster – winner of the BBC’s Young Chef of the Year gong in 2009 – is hailed as nose-to-tail-eating pin-up Fergus Henderson’s protégé and it’s safe to say the guy knows a thing or two about the insides of a sheep, cow or pig. But St John in Farringdon is a long way from Sydney’s sensibilities and it turns out that blood is nigh-on impossible to find here. It took Dougie nearly a month to find a supplier where it would have taken a phonecall in London and, likewise, he found it hard buying brains and chicken hearts*. No wonder he told me “it was the hardest menu to practice.”

There’s an irony in the rarity of these bits and pieces, but where Dougie and his team of chefs – all “best mates” from Melbourne – struggled against local flows, hard work, effort and imagination won on the night. It was a memorable meal not for perfect seasoning or other-worldly presentation (although they were both good) but for the format’s laid-back honesty and originality. Not bad, considering the menu, according to 24-year-old Dougie, “took ten minutes to come up with” (thanks to a demonstrative commitment to sustainable eating) – the whole Wasted concept only dreamt up three weeks ago.

So, of which foods did Dougie make a Cinderella? The menu…

Chicken heart, dock leaf, barley

Anchovy spines, anchovy mayonnaise

Salt beef, with all the celeriac

Nettle soup, nasturtium, back fat

Blood, brain, skin

Yabby, wild rocket, dill

Intercostals, potato skin, wild dandelion

Whey sorbet, feijoa, violet

Smoked wood custard, molasses, pomegranate

And who’d have thought a load of potential waste could taste quite so good? The hip crowd, packed into the little café like sardines, seemed as receptive as I was – it was easy to ignore the slightly ramshackle service, bumping elbows and accidental spoon omissions for the bright zestiness of the yabby/crayfish, the creamy earthiness of the nettle soup or the intense umami hit of the anchovies (with a pong bordering on fishmeal and chewy as leather, but weirdly moreish).

By the no-messing ‘blood, skin and brains’ course, Dougie had really hit a rhythm – an old tile was smeared with a dollop of dark blood, the crunch of pig skin and milky lamb’s brains delicious against vinegary morsels of apple. Animaly and shamelessly St John-esque, this was a winner.

Crunchy, gutsy potato skin worked perfectly with soft intercostals and fresh little green cauliflower stems. Whey sorbet was a stroke of genius, too, its salty sweatiness cut by a deliciously matched moscato. Smoked wood custard, conspicuously not sweet, took on a meaty quality – its vibe hard to separate from the salmon or bacon you’d normally associate with that smokiness (which, for want of wood chips, came from a certain tree in a certain botanical garden, I gather).

Wasted has been a surprise runaway success and whilst it’ll probably take more for my co-diners to rush out and buy blood and tripe, Kym Lenoble, Dougie’s co-conspirator, has just heard that the pop-up will be heading for a stint in infamously hard-to-please Melbourne in four weeks’ time, where the crowd will surely put the team through its paces. Here’s to tops, tails, bony bits and brine – I take my hat off to Dougie and Kym for having the guts to reimagine a rubbish heap and sell it well to picky foodies… although getting your average pie-eating Aussie on board could be another challenge altogether.

*Oh, and as an aside, I recently learnt elsewhere that if you ever happen to be in the market for unpastuerised milk in Australia, you’ll find it labelled ‘Cleopatra’s Bath Milk’, branded as a beauty product to get around the authorities. I can only imagine what my granny (and much of France) would say about that.

Images – top: menus, middle: Dougie plating up blood, brains and skin and bottom: smoked custard.

Or, read it at the Standard here.