Since getting the slow cooker, I’ve done a number of things, but the two I keep on going back to are chilli (of the con-carne variety) and sausage/bean casserole, which is similar to cassoulet, but much fartier. So in deference to the ozone layer, I’ll share the chilli one instead… Continue reading
I was going to drag you all along to Leeds Poly’s Friday night Bop, which I frequented during my gothiest phase under the influence of a Cure-obsessed Glaswegian who only wore purple. But then I remembered Esquires in Bedford, where Friday night in the early 90s was grunge night and my dancing partner was gorgeous Steve whose mix tape I am sad to have lost. All my memories of youthful clubbing are hazy, smokey, mostly dancing, happily alcoholic, and always feeling like I was catching up late to the last big thing.
I welcome you to this sticky-floored bear pit of a club, where the soundtrack is a perfect storm of all the bands Lisa mentioned, and then a bit more Pulp and Nirvana besides. We’ve grown up since drinking chocolate milk with vodka at Spiders; we’ve even moved on from downing a bottle of wine before leaving the house in our student days. In Bedford I had my first job, so I had money, which means the drinks are on me!
Lyle doesn’t divulge what he would have been wearing, so let’s assume it’s faded denim and DMs as he quaffs his vodka’n’whatever and lurks by the jukebox looking moody, which is probably down to his very own mind-altering substance: the smell of his own farts.
Everyone else is understandably at the other side of the room [this is how he gets to control the music], looking equally moody because that’s what we did in nightclubs. Back then Dr Pockless had copious curls (did I ever tell you about the time I shaved his head?) and green-and-purple DMs. I’ve heard that Ridings isn’t the nicest pint of bitter you can get, but here you go. Lisa has already eschewed the DMs for sneakers, but I’m thinking this may have been a Scotland thing because that stage definitely passed me by. Or it’s another of those latest things that I have only just caught up with. Seriously, I got my first pair of converse in, erm, 2013.
Talking of latest things, if Mike‘s doing it then it’s the latest thing Right Now. And right now he’s rising above the grunge to dance on a plinth in a bubble of 80s pop and a shiny suit. Pass that man a pilsner!
‘Tother Mike, wide-eyed with wonder at all the cityfolk, is swaying to the sound of the Charlatans and chewing the straw that came with his sol. If you need a quiet place to sit, get Clair to move up a bit; she’s found the only non-sticky bit of bench to sit on, and brought her own reading lamp. If she’s lucky, Pix will share her mug of Baileys and turn the heavy metal down.
Lager-lager-lager-shouting: pass the thunderbird!
Today’s cocktails are going to be served in the nightclub of your youth. Tell us where you are, what you were wearing, what you were dancing to, and what you were drinking. And maybe I’ll give you a vodka milkshake in return.
I’ve always thought it no coincidence that when I tell people where I went to university, most people think I’m saying “hole.” Back in that bleak and windy autumn term when we gathered for the first time in the rattling dining hall at the Lawns, the standard matt black union bar, or the towering Brynmor Jones library, we quickly sorted ourselves into soft shivering southerners who pronounced scone to rhyme with stone, and hardy northern types who were prepared to cycle into the wind on Cottingham Road. This was the only distinction that mattered. Continue reading
“Does anyone have any slow cooker recipes?” asked Pixeldiva.
Apparently this is the magic question that makes everyone on twitter express love. It’s well known that eating, and particularly sharing food, releases the happy hormone oxytocin. So we decided to have a Festival of the Casserole, perhaps a CassFest.
So next week we anticipate a large number of guest posts on the subject of slow cooking. If you already have an uborka login, please feel free to add your post and save in draft (simply so we can space the content out a bit) using the Gourmet category. If you would prefer to email your contribution to me (first name) at uborka dot nu, and I’ll put something together.
We are looking for recipes, tips, and photographs; if you don’t have a slow cooker, please feel free to slow cook in some other way. We’re not trying to prove anything here, just to share the casserole love.
[n.b. the delayed Where Are They Now post, featuring the much in demand Dr Pockless, will appear next Thursday, in amongst all the casseroles. Better make that a meaf day. What’s a meaf day? He will tell you.]
This review is probably going to be a fair bit shorter than some previous ones. Whereas with the last couple of albums I’ve been really enjoying them, and highly reluctant to move on to the next, with this one I can’t get rid of it quickly enough. Continue reading
Yesterday, in a mammoth feat of lying on the sofa in front of the telly, Clair watched an impressive amount of rubbish. At one point the existence of “standards” on Uborka was questioned. Not that we give a monkeys about quality, but today we are going to turn it around and find out what is the best thing on TV. Continue reading
Happy Monday Ubotkans, hope you’re all having a good one.
It’s getting to the end of the year, so I’m taking a few odd days hear and there to use up some annual leave before Christmas. So, I’m taking some time for a TV day. Join me… Continue reading