THREE THINGS THIS WEEK

FEATURE | THREE THINGS

THINGS I'VE SEEN, LEARNT OR THOUGHT ABOUT THIS WEEK

I'm thinking of renaming this, badly researched fun facts. Or, potentially very well-known things that may or may not be accurate, plus some cute things.

It's not super catchy, I'll work on it. It's very short this week, enjoy.

AMERICANO

I didn't know, although I guess it doesn't take a leap when you think about it; about where we get the "Americano" from. It was created during WWII - I guess I thought it was more modern than that - in Italy. It translates, obviously, as American Coffee and was made to appease the American soldiers for whom espresso was too intense. Not, as I assumed, was it meant as a particularly insulting gesture. More an acquiescence with a blunt name.

It also has 163 calories less than a glass of wine, whereas a flat white has only 15 less. Just saying, for anyone needing help with a decision.

ROSEMARY

I was "researching" Rosemary after a throw-away mention on a podcast about how it came to Britain with the Romans. It turns out, that that might be very wrong, and it's quite hard to verify. But, it sounds logical - from various sources - and I am inclined to believe Mr Dalrymple, a prestigious Historian, over an anonymous herbalist with a blog (she says.. in a highly unreliable blog).

From the Mediterranean originally, this hardy, prolific bush has done well to adapt and become prevalent in our stoic climate. I wonder if it too wishes it could run off to Benidorm to enjoy the same thing, warmer (see Costa-del-Cheltenham here. Note, trigger warning.)

It was also naturalised in China in the very early 400s, most presumably a product wafting along the Silk Road, but it didn't seem to take to cooking the way it did in Britain. I googled for British lamb recipes here, hoping to make some point about lamb and rosemary being quintessentially British, that's how well we have naturalised and assimilated it. It is now seen as so British it's everywhere, from every stately home to National Trust and kitchen garden to window box. Instead, I was met with "Greek Roast Lamb Leg", "Persian Lamb", "Korean Crusted Roast Lamb" and "Garlic + Herb Lamb with Boulangerie Potatoes". LOL. I love this. Did Google miss my British bit? Or was it telling to consider these things British cuisine? But really, I did enjoy this result; we are nothing if not hoarders of other cultures in this country. But in this instance, I mean not indulge in appropriating or ruination, but a celebration of the beauty differences and multiculturalism brings, and its ability to widen our worlds and our stomachs!

But, quickly, before I get back to the topic - who is making "Hay Baked" anything? At home? Who are these people? Can we please calm down.

So all that did nothing to help me point out the British love or deep-rooted sense of Britishness we have for rosemary. But it is a nice fact - whether from the Romans or not - that rosemary has thrived here since, at least the 14th century. It's nice to remember old friends, and that most things on our little rock in the sea originated on a bigger rock somewhere.

ORANGES

I wanted to write something about Grace Hartigan and Frank O'Hara, and oranges. I've been thinking a lot about these things. But I am not actually sure what it is I want to say. If anything, really.

I seem to just want to note the existence of a painter-poet collaboration and the exhibition they did, and that there was, somewhere, a zine of the poems with individually painted front covers, that on the day, no one wanted. Where are they now? Can I put my hand up and say I'd give that away to get one of those? (my left, I'm not mad).

But that's it really. I've just been thinking about that..situation. Not what it means, just its existence. The existence of two people who collaborated for the love of art (and each other) who made something. Not for "content" ( 🤮 ) or even really, others' appreciation, but because it was within them to do so.

So as I snuggle into a delicious silence and a sensational sofa while I am "watering plants" at my absent parents' house, with a coffee and a procured pack of biscuits (ahem, always open to housesit.) I think about these two people as a single idea. The idea of a pleasant place where people create because that is what they do, it is their life force, their love language, it's what moves them, it's enough.

I won't continue to write, I'll let the pro do that, and just drop my favourite poem, which O'Hara wrote after the exhibition, here:

I am not a painter, I am a poet.

Why? I think I would rather be

a painter, but I am not. Well,

for instance, Mike Goldberg

is starting a painting. I drop in.

“Sit down and have a drink” he

says. I drink; we drink. I look

up. “You have SARDINES in it.”

“Yes, it needed something there.”

“Oh.” I go and the days go by

and I drop in again. The painting

is going on, and I go, and the days

go by. I drop in. The painting is

finished. “Where’s SARDINES?”

All that’s left is just

letters, “It was too much,” Mike says.

But me? One day I am thinking of

a color: orange. I write a line

about orange. Pretty soon it is a

whole page of words, not lines.

Then another page. There should be

so much more, not of orange, of

words, of how terrible orange is

and life. Days go by. It is even in

prose, I am a real poet. My poem

is finished and I haven’t mentioned

orange yet. It’s twelve poems, I call

it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery

I see Mike’s painting, called SARDINES.

I AM NOT A PAINTER

FRANK O'HARA

So that's just three of the beautiful things slushing around my skull this week, helping me bring some positivity to these days. Seen or heard anything interesting?