The Sunday Ishmael: 18/08/2024: War, Lavender, Aunties and Food

 War - 

Has Ukraine crashed the British economy?

A: Pretty much yes.

Was this a contributing factor in the British riots? 

I would say so - as ordinary folk struggle to pay mortgages or rent, afford to put petrol in their tanks, put food on the table - well, they're going to be cross - stands to reason.

This is what the West was told in September 2022 by Mikhailo Podolyak, adviser to President Zelensky:  The destruction of the Nord Stream pipelines was "a terrorist attack planned by Russia and an act of aggression towards the E.U."

No it wasn't, you lying bastard. That always was an unlikely bloody story, yet it sold in the West, as the Western media and politicians remorselessly whipped up suspicion, sowed propaganda, and wanted to join in a war that really, truly, basically, had nothing to do with us.

The truth is emerging, as we always said, that it was the Ukrainians that carried out a bombing attack on Germany's territory, an attack on the infrastructure of a sovereign nation and NATO country, knocking out 3 of the 4 gas pipelines that had supplied Germany with 30% of its gas supplies. The attack on the seabed pipeline destroyed €20 billion of investment. The intelligence agencies of the United States of America were warned of the planned attack and attempted to prevent it - but obviously had no influence or utility at all in Zelensky's eyes other than to supply weaponry, as he allowed the terrorist attack to continue.

The perpetrators were a privately funded, independent group of military saboteurs working with the support and direction of the Ukrainian military and the consent of Zelensky. A senior German official told the Wall Street Journal, which has conducted an investigation into the event: "An attack of this scale is a sufficient reason to trigger the collective defence clause of NATO. Our critical infrastructure was blown up by a country that we support with massive weapons shipments and billions in cash." The definitive removal of cheap Russian gas also played a key role in transforming Germany’s economy from one of Europe’s most dynamic to its most stagnant, with growth forecasts now at just 0.1 per cent for 2024. The knock-on effect has had a devastating effect on the economies of other Western nations, including Britain.

The information that the attack was by Ukraine was kept secret to avoid an anti-Ukrainian backlash among the German public. But this summer German prosecutors issued their first arrest warrant for one of the suspects, following a detailed investigation by 

 German law enforcement. 

On 6 September 2022 the German-flagged Bavaria Cruiser Andromeda left the Hohe Düne marina in the Baltic port of Rostock. She had been hired for 2,998 euros (£2,600) a week by a Polish company owned by two Ukrainians. At least six passengers were on board – all of whom were carrying forged passports, one of them Bulgarian. The yacht was not, because of its size, required to carry an Automatic Identification System – but marina security camera footage and docking records identified the Andromeda at Sandhamn then Christiansom and Wiek on the island of Rügen on the days before and after the explosions. Undersea cameras found that three of the 2.8 cm-thick steel pipelines lying at a depth of 80 to 90 metres on the Baltic seabed had been breached by explosive charges and then catastrophically exploded under the 120-bar pressure of the gas contained inside them. In January 2023 the Andromeda was searched and it was confirmed that traces of explosives had been found aboard.

In June 2024 the German Prosecutor Jens Rommel issued a confidential arrest warrant for a Ukrainian citizen and professional diver who allegedly masterminded the operation. The suspect was thought to be in hiding in Poland – but Polish authorities made no arrests, and allowed the suspect to return to Ukraine. August Hanning, formerly chief of German intelligence agency BND accused the Polish government of complicity in the Nord Stream attacks. He said: "These are decisions that were made at the highest political level. And I think that there was an arrangement between Zelensky and President Duda (of Poland) to carry out this attack." Henning also accused Poland of tipping off the suspects rather than cooperating with German police.

 German public opinion has shifted against supporting Ukraine's war against Russia and towards limiting the use to which German-supplied missiles and rockets can be put. The  AfD party wants to repair the Nord Stream pipelines and reopen the remaining line as soon as possible, while the BSW party has called for the immediate halting of all weapon deliveries to Kyiv ‘in view of the Zelensky disclosures.’

Ever feel like a mushroom? Kept in the dark and have shit shovelled on you?

What I did on my holidays (continued):

When you leave the cities of what we used to call the West Riding, and get out into the fresh air and sheer goddamned beauty of North Yorkshire - (Herriot Country, you know) you can't go very far without falling over ruinous abbeys, stately homes, National Trust this-that-and-the-other, magnificent rivers and  Betty's Tea Rooms (waitresses in black dresses and frilly white aprons, fancy teas, hearty Yorkshire cakes and long queues to get in.) One of the more unusual places to visit is Yorkshire Lavender.

Unusual, because Lavender is a Mediterranean plant, enjoying dry, well drained soil and long, hot summers. You don't really associate that with Yorkshire. I love it - the hillside is filled with the languorous smell of lavender, being busily worked by bees, and rows of blue, pink or white lavender curve sinuously across the hillside.

There's a shop where you can buy lavender-scented goo of all kinds, and a café, where Lavender and Earl Grey tea is served, Lavender and Blueberry cheesecake,* lavender scones and the like. It's all a bit posh, very English and very polite.

We drew into the carpark just as a coach was disgorging its contents. My immediate thought was that this was an outing of the Bariatric Outpatients Department of Bradford Royal Infirmary. There were some very, very, very big ladies. Many using zimmer frames, at least one waiting for a mobility scooter to be wrestled out of the lower abdomen of the coach. They were halt, lame, fat and shrouded. Quick, quick, exhorted my companion, we don't want to be held up behind that lot when it comes to the tea and cakes. Screeching into the nearest parking spot, we made double quick time into the café, so we were calmly ensconced at the penultimately-available table, tucking into tea and lavender-toasted crumpets, with no sense of guilt whatsoever, when the first of the Bariatric outing heaved into view.

She landed in the seat next to mine and from her capacious bag she produced the packed lunch that she had no doubt prepared before leaving home that morning, unwrapping her sandwich and tucking in, with open-mouthed enjoyment. You know that embarrassment you feel for no reason at all, other than being English, when someone does something very wrong? Not murder, more like a social solecism. Well, it was like that. The waitress came over to this human juggernaut and attempted to remonstrate with her - only food purchased here can be eaten in the tea-room - but before she got very far my unwanted table companion demanded loudly, with a spray of crumbs: "Dhee". There was some confusion before this was translated by the tour guide, who had belatedly arrived, as a request for a cup of tea. So honour was salvaged, the lady was provided with tea and we left before an attempt was made to extract payment from her. No doubt there was a purse secreted somewhere amongst the many black layers of clothing on this fine summer's day.

And there the matter would have rested in my imagination as the coach outing of the Bariatric Society. Until I came across a strange BBC offering called Bradford Aunties on Tour to Blackpool. Or something like that. And there they were - huge, wrapped, with layers of exotic make up and blingy accessories, going to the seaside. These Aunties are as frightening as Giles' Grandmother. They may not be anyone's aunt, but any woman of Pakistani and Muslim heritage gets to a certain age and size, and they become an Auntie, permitted to bully, nosey, interfere, condemn and gossip, all under the banner of preserving the culture, heritage, language and  traditional cuisine. A sort of  underground police force. One said, despairingly, the youngsters, they eat burgers (she made it sound like turders)  and chips, not our traditional food. One, flat-footedly dancing with ankle banglets, felt that the Culture would be gone in two generations, unless the Bradford Aunties got their hands on them to teach them The Ways. Self-confessedly unable to drive a computer, let alone a car, operate a mobile phone or speak the King's English, the mission of the Aunties was to bring the Culture to the Youth. Not allow the Youth to teach them the Forms and Wisdoms of 21st Century Britain and teach them how to behave in restaurants. We can only hope that the Aunties are right - that the Culture will die out in two generations.

Food Corner

Talking of Yorkshire restaurants, and naming no names, mr ishmael and I  once holidayed in Richmond and dropped into a Michelin-starred restaurant in this little village out on the edge of the moors, it being recommended by the very gay proprietors of our holiday accommodation. Well, we mused, they are gay, so they will know a thing or two about good food, it is a nice drive out and it's a sunny day, and they can't charge as much for lunch as they would for an evening meal, and we are on holiday, after all. mr.ishmael later summarised that dreadful gastronomical experience with this pithy sentence: "Anyone daring to complain about his food was confronted by the angry, sweating chef himself, raging at them and throwing them out of his gaff; how fucking dare they criticise his raw lambs kidneys on a bed of quick sautéed dandelion leaves?"

All the tables were full of middle-class types, with middle class, middle income cars in the carpark. It was a work day, so what were they doing out in the wilds of the Yorkshire moors, instead of toiling to make a few dishonest bucks? They ate studiously, carefully and quietly. The menu was limited. "That's good", said mr ishmael, with the air of one who has been in the trade and knows these things - "when there's 45 items on the menu you know they have all been made in a factory in West Bromwich and packed into plastic cartons and driven round the country, along with the cocaine, heroin and cannabis, thrown into deep freezers and brightened up in the microwave. If there's just a couple of things, you know the chef has made them himself. What's everyone else eating? Right, I'll have the kidneys, too." 

He had entirely failed to notice the fastidiously careful manner in which the diners were dissecting their kidneys. So, guided in all things by mr ish, I had the kidneys, too. It was a long wait. mr ish's usual strategy of dealing with his food-delay-anxiety syndrome was thwarted by the refusal of the michelin-starred restaurant to sell him a packet of crisps. His outrage was almost at a par with that expressed by my chum the other day, when the restaurant-with-aspirations at which we were lunching refused to make him a piece of toast. 

So the kidneys arrived on monster 12 inch diameter plates (this was before the fad for small plates dining). Many, many lambs must have died to yield up their kidneys for those two platefuls. Halved, they nestled in three concentric circles, the outer circle with the nasty bits face down, displaying their shiny brown backs, the next circle with the intimate bits facing up, exposing a thin brown rind around pinkish stuff, and the inner circle comprising raw kidneys, blueish, with the white tubules like cauliflowers in the centre. Nothing else. No mash, peas and gravy.

"Jesus, you can't eat that", hissed mr ishmael, observing me wielding the ridiculously-heavy knife and fork to slice off what cooked bits I could find. "They're raw. You can't eat raw offal. You'll die. Everyone in the restaurant will be lucky to recover from this."

Observing mr ishmael's distress and his implacable refusal to pick up knife and fork, the waiter glided across to enquire what was the problem. "If you don't know, you shouldn't be in the catering business. Do you know the function that kidneys have in the body?"

So the waiter produced the chef, who belligerently offered to make mr ishmael an omelette. The offer was kindly declined and mr ishmael paid the bill, on the basis that they'd obviously gone to a lot of trouble to artistically produce lots of raw kidneys. On the way back to Richmond we bought a couple of packets of crisps. 

So, for nostalgia's sake, I checked the current online menu of this nameless restaurant, to find that little had changed. Here you go:

Natural garden-fresh flavours and heady aromas with a background ‘playlist’ of buzzing bees: nasturtiums, Grandad’s greenhouse-intense tomatoes, lavender and the citrus overtones of lemon balm.

Starter: Halibut 

Citrus-cured Wild Halibut, Pink Grapefruit, Rapeseed and Nobashi Prawn ‘Scampi’, Pickled Herring Ice Cream, Sea Rosemary and Oakwood Dressing £16

 

Main: Duck

Duck Three Ways: Yorkshire Reared Duck… Heather Honey, Globe and Jerusalem Artichoke Yoghurt and Bigarade Sauce, Whipped Pluck Tartlet, Local Bilberry Preserve, Heart ‘Jerky’ Duck Tea and Kitchen Garden Botanicals £36 

Additional Side:  Seaweed-buttered Jersey Royals  £7

Pudding

White Chocolate and Cep Mushroom ‘Magnum’ with Thyme-scorched Syrup, Medjool Date and Salted Cracked Hazelnut, Jivara Cremeux  £12

I'll repeat the highlights, in case you missed them: raw halibut with pickled herring ice-cream, for fuck's sake, followed by duck with an offal tart and gravy made from its heart, with potatoes in seaweed (extra) and for pudding - mushrooms and chocolate.

I don't think they are buying those dishes in from a kitchen in West Bromwich and I think I'll stick to crisps.

Why would you eat pickled herring ice-cream? And before eating raw halibut you should be very certain of your chef's credentials - halibut is prone to bacterial and parasitic infections. When preparing halibut for raw consumption, it is important to start with fresh, high-quality fish. The fish should be cleaned and filleted properly, removing any bones, worms and skin. It is recommended to freeze the fish at -4°F (-20°C) for at least 7 days or at -31°F (-35°C) for at least 15 hours to kill any parasites that may be present. 

Seriously, Bird's Eye fish fingers are the safe choice.

To read more of mr ishmael's culinary and other adventures, there are four splendid anthologies of his work, compiled by his friend, mr verge, the house filthster. You can buy them from Amazon or Lulu. Here's how:

Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.

IIshmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps 

please register an account first, at lulu.com. This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box. Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.

Link for Hardcover : https://tinyurl.com/je7nddfr

Link for Paperback : https://tinyurl.com/3jurrzux

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

At checkout, try WELCOME15 in the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before postage. If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.

With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.

* Blueberry Lavender Cheesecake

Ingredients

Crust

· 110 grams digestive biscuits finely crushed

· 1/2 teaspoon dried edible lavender buds coarsely ground

· 4 tablespoons butter melted

Blueberry Topping

· 1 1/2 cups blueberries

· 1/4 cup water

· 3 tablespoons organic cane sugar

· 1/2 teaspoon lemon zest

· 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

· pinch of salt

· 3/4 teaspoon dried edible lavender buds

Cheesecake Filling

· 3/4 cup double cream chilled

· 8 ounces cream cheese room temperature

· 4 ounces goat cheese – or substitute more cream cheese if you don’t like goat cheese

· 1/2 cup  sugar

· 2 teaspoons lemon zest

· 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

· 1/2 teaspoon dried edible lavender buds coarsely ground

Instructions

1. Put the digestive biscuits into a food processor. Process until they’re a fine, sandy texture. Transfer to a medium bowl. Add lavender, salt, and butter. Mix well with a fork to incorporate butter into all of the crumbs. Put a round piece of greaseproof paper in the bottom of a 7inch diameter springform pan. Press crumbs with a spoon and hands, into the bottom and a little less than 1/2 up the sides. Be sure to press firmly. Place in the freezer.

2. Place 1 cup of the blueberries and the water in a food processor and blend until they’re chopped into small pieces. Transfer to a small saucepan. Add the sugar, lemon zest, vanilla, and salt. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring continuously.

3. Add the remaining half of blueberries. Place the lavender in a reusable muslin bag and add to the sauce. Reduce the heat and continue to stir as the lavender steeps. When the sauce has thickened, about 10 minutes, remove from the heat.

4. Continue to steep the lavender for another 15 to 20 minutes. Then remove the muslin bag. Let the sauce cool completely.

5. In a large bowl, whip the heavy cream with an electric mixer until soft peaks form. In a second large bowl, use the mixer to whip the cream cheese, goat cheese, sugar, lemon zest, and lavender. Once the mixture is fully combined, use a spatula to gently fold in the whipped cream.

6. Take the crust out of the freezer and pour the filling in. Smooth with a large spoon. Refrigerate for a minimum of four hours best overnight. When ready to serve, remove from refrigerator and release from springform.

7. Spoon a liberal amount of blueberry sauce on top, and cut immediately. Cheesecake will last for 4 days in the refrigerator.

Note: you can slice it and freeze the slices but it will go squidgy - not necessarily a bad thing.