All quiet on the Western Front

Cold subsided, trains running, rain finally stopped, waistline expanding.  Exactly as things should be in early February.

With no major plans afoot other than some dogsitting this weekend, there is not much to report other that what I’ve eaten for my tea.  See below for my magical winter warming caraway and cumin spiced parsnip soup and chunky beefy curry with caraway rice (I love caraway seeds).  I have also attached pictures of other random things that have made me smile this week, including my dozy cat, our local pub dog enjoying the stove and the first sunset I have seen in ages.

Culinary cure for colds

I appear to have developed man flu.  I have been working on a cure…

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First of all, the most delicious wine ever.  Honestly, this stuff is fruity juicy loveliness in a glass.  It’s normally about £9 a bottle but currently on offer in Morrison’s at about half that.  Stock up now!  Next stop, a steaming mountain of rich and heavenly smoked haddock and mustard cream bean stew with spinach.  My lovely husband channelled our food God, Nigel Slater, to create this dish and it was amazing.  It’s tastiness was off the scale.  Despite it’s cold curing abilities (although, this is probably the reason it was so effective), it’s fat and calorie content is through the roof.  I consumed the lot before I realised how I may have just reduced my life expectancy by a day or two.  It should come with a public health warning.  Having already done the damage, I thought there was really no point in stopping there so I reclined on the sofa with a toasty, boozy and creamy Gaelic coffee to help complete the healing process. Ahhhh.  This worked wonders.  Finally, feeling slightly closer to human, I had a cheeky wee Cuba Libre as a digestif.  Havana Club with four fat wedges of lime squished over ice and topped with full fat cola.

Today I am functioning at about 90%.  A definite improvement.  Magic.

Velvet Elvis to The Park Bar- a West End Odyssey.

“Keep Partick‘s Weird”  The mural on the wall of Velvet Elvis, an ex butcher shop turned groovy drinking den on Dumbarton Road in Partick, declares and does a pretty good job.  I love this place. It’s comfy and friendly and has tasty food and does a mean mojito.  We started off Saturday’s afternoon outing here with an ice cold glass of chenin blanc and a bowl of skinny fries with alioli.  I would like to point out, I don’t normally eat chips with every drink, but I do admit my last few posts would contradict this statement.  Sticking with this healthy eating plan, our next stop was Little Italy on Byers Road for pizza then coffee.  They do gooood pizza.  We then turned back on our route and headed to The Lismore to catch up with some old pals over a Malt of the Month…or two.  Highland Park was the current tipple on offer and it went down rather nicely.  The Lismore is a crackin pub, full of local characters with great banter.  Combined with some live music provided by musicians in town for Celtic Connections, it was a great afternoon.  It was also our downfall, as we had intended catching an early train home but instead found ourselves having too much fun to end it here.  The natural progression was a quick taxi ride to the institution that is the Park Bar, where Heilan’ lads and lassies gather in vast numbers for some ceilidh chaos.  The last train home came and went and we were still propping up the bar and talking mince.  I pity the poor taxi driver who scooped us up for the journey home at approximately 12.30, six hours after we originally intended to head home.  Still, what’s the point in working hard all week if you can’t throw caution to the wind and go with the proverbial flow?  I love nights like this- Unplanned joy.  It’s random nights in places like this I think helps keep Partick, and the rest of the West End, a wee bit weird but totally wonderful.

The hangover

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I must be about 8.2 on the Teucheter-scale today.  I would have been about 8.9 on friday night but I’ve managed to bring it down a notch or two to a less catastrophic state.

Celtic Connection festivities lived up to expectations.  After checking into our 12th floor, ahem, “penthouse” room the evening got underway with that most traditional of Scottish beverages, and one of my all time favourites-  The Daiquiri.  Well, washed down with a side of chilli and parmesan chips and it’s a definite Celt-Cuban classic!  This was followed by…another Daiquiri but this one was in the grand surroundings of the Blythswood Hotel- not a deep fried tatty in sight. After a bit of eavesdropping on some lovies who swore blind they new best friend was the manager of the Black Eyed Peas (really?…but really though?) we moved on to line our stomaches before doing some serious damage.  Anyway, we weren’t friends with anyones manager so clearly were not going to fit in.  Not with the kind of night we had in mind.