Dom Pannell's Blog

Ping Pong with Teresa

I've mentioned my gorgeous vegetarian, teetotal Argentinian friend before. I really mean it, she's lovely. See for yourself.

She's highly intelligent, too.

Anyway, we met up again for lunch today at Ping Pong on the South Bank...

... where we had a mixture of vegetarian dishes, all of which were very tasty. I particularly liked the simple things - steamed broccoli with garlic and a mix of mushrooms.

Food aside, what stood out was the jasmine flower tea that I had (you see, I don't drink booze ALL the time). The glass arrived with a rather ominous-looking dark object in the bottom. The waiter filled the glass with hot water and I didn't think anything of it for a few minutes (too hot to drink) when I noticed that the flower had opened up. The result was quite stunning.

Here's a view from above the glass.

We strolled along the embankment, battling the wind and rain before sheltering in Tamesis@Oxo, which was a pleasant find (every time I've tried to go in the past, it's been shut). A lot less pretentious and expensive than it's famous upstairs neighbour, Tamesis is a good spot for a chat and a coffee (oh, alright, I had a bottle of beer as well) and the people who were eating looked happy enough with their food.

Carrying on along the river, we bumped into Oli Barrett who was returning from October Plenty at Borough Market. Oli promised to read my blog and to meet up for a coffee sometime soon. If you're reading this, Oli, you're halfway there!!

You gotta love the Swedes

I do, even if the above advert was never run.

Thanks to Stuart Harris who pointed me towards Jeffrey Zeldman's site.

First Monday is no more

RIP FM, I knew thee well.

Happily, it will be reincarnated under a different (previous) name.

Polish pancetta

Well, more accurately Polish pork belly, but hey! Polish pancetta has a ring to it in English!

It comes in blocks, which I cut up into strips. It's just as good and a darned sight cheaper than Messrs Marks, Spencer and Sainsbury are prepared to sell it for.

Oh, and all the corner shops round here sell it.

Pan's Labryrinth

What a remarkably good film.

We all know that Spanish-speaking film-makers have a habit of being brilliant, because Pedro Almodóvar keeps on demonstrating the fact.

Pan's Labryrinth isn't one of Almodóvar's though. It's a 'gothic fairy tale' set in Spain during Franco's rise to power. And it's fabulous.

Guillermo del Toro has made a couple of films in the past already. More than a couple in fact. However I hadn't come across the Mexican's name before.

I'll remember it now.

'The Archers' was on late

one hour late in fact.

That means that either I slept for one hour longer than I thought (already two hours longer than normal) or the clocks have gone back without anyone telling me...

... hmmm my computer tells me that it is currently one hour ago, so I'm going with the latter.

Horrid people, the lot of you!

Oh, I love cassoulet

and the lovely Zoë gave me a jar of the beany delicacy yesterday for my birthday.

I love it so much I'm already tucking into it. Heated, cooled and reheated, it's delicious with potatoes and a cheeky Costières de Nîmes (normally, I'd go for a 'meatier' wine, but I got fed up in Fortnum's earlier today and left without even buying any Gentleman's Relish). I don't like shopping, I'm afraid.

I'll follow it with some cheese and salad and will finish up with a glass of Rémy Martin XO that I picked up at an airport.

Before you come to any conclusions about my constantly dining on over-rich food, dear reader, I should point out that tomorrow I shall be having lunch with my vegetarian, teetotal (and drop-dead gorgeous) Argentinian friend Teresa.

Hooray for the Waterloo Bar & Kitchen

I had a little party last night at WB&K to celebrate my 21st birthday last Sunday.

The staff at WB&K were superb, so the whole thing was almost effortless. The function room was the perfect size for the 35 or so friends who showed up (not bad seeing as I gave them four days' notice), Marcus our barman for the evening was extremely patient and the manager, whose name I think is Lisa (sorry... I didn't catch it early on and then failed to ask again) was charming and efficient.

Oh, and the food was great!

The tuna and the aubergine and goats cheese thingies came out tops in my mind.

I'm afraid I didn't take any photos, 'cos I left my new camera in the office!! Doh!

Sometimes I read something that really scares me

Those 'Law of Attraction' people are really bonkers, aren't they? Mad as a box of frogs.

(If you're a LOAer and you're reading this, please feel free to leave a comment so I can junk it).

Final thought before I go and lay my weary head on a pillow

isn't it about the time of year for Pillow Fight Club?

I'll be looking out for the email from PFC to signal some feathery fun.

Birthday supper

I did very little today - I strolled round to my sister's for cake and fine champagne (courtesy of the anonymous person who sent me a bottle at work... thank you, it was very nice). I posted a few times on here and caught up on reading some other blogs. That's about it.

Anyway, I decided I should eat something that I like for my birthday (apart from cake and champagne) so I'm currently enjoying a meal of cold fish.

I recognise that cold fish isn't to everybody's taste, but it is to mine. I've been heard to say that I moved to Sweden for the herrings, which isn't completely true as there was a rather lovely blonde person involved (with whom I once travelled to San Sebastian).

And what fish!

I have been to Amsterdam a couple of times in the past month and on both occasions I picked up some fish delicacies on my way back through Schiphol.

Smoked halibut, eel and mackerel as well as matjes herring (obviously). I also found a local supplier of really good Polish herring. Delicious with a few new potatoes boiled with dill (Swedish stylee).

Here's the mackerel and the eel.

Look how they gleam!

The polish herrings are damn good, too, although I don't understand the ingredients, which is slightly worrying.

A nice glass of beer and a few shots of vodka to accompany the fish. Excellent.

Happy birthday to me!

I buried this in a previous post, but reckon I should give it its own entry.

I'm having a birthday party next Friday at the Waterloo Bar & Kitchen, which is dead easy to get to by tube or bus if you live in London.

If you come by tube, take the Northern, Jubilee, Waterloo & City or Bakerloo line to Waterloo. Leave the station (Old Vic exit), turn right and walk 200 yards past. Use the traffic lights at the crossroads to cross Baylis Road and Waterloo Road and bingo! it's behind the Old Vic, or beside it, depending on your perspective.

If you come by bus, the 1, 4, 26, 176, 188 and probably several others all drop you outside the restaurant one stop after Waterloo, so it's a doddle to find the place.

Otherwise you could take a taxi, or it's a 25 minute walk from Soho Square and about ten minutes from the Strand across Waterloo Bridge.

Naturally all three of my avid readers are welcome to come along. Do send me an email at dom (at) dompannell.com if you're planning to turn up as I'm paying for food for my guests, generous lad that I am. You can buy your own booze, 'cos I'm not stupid.

If you're interested in how old I am, I'm 21 on the 21st of October every year, which is handy, 'cos it means I don't forget my age.

I was given an iPod and one of those clever record players that allow you to save music to MP3 format.

Over the coming weeks, I plan to be spending an inordinate length of time reminiscing about my youth as I transfer my LP collection across. Jesus & Mary Chain, here I come!

Dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee! Did I mention I hate the Archers?

The Archers weekly omnibus is the bane of my Sunday mornings because I'm committed to listening to radio 4.

On Sunday mornings I generally half-listen to BH as I slumber in bed, but come 10am I hit the radio's off-button and stick on a CD (nothing with a heavy bass as it disturbs my neighbour Essi - this morning I listened to some of Handel's concerti grossi) for the next hour and a quarter until Desert Island Discs comes on.

I honestly can't be bothered with the comings and goings of Ambridge, nor do I understand the millions of people who, like my sister, need their daily fix.

Now Antony tells me that the BBC are launching an Archers podcast - can't they take it off the air altogether, then?

The best team won on the day.

Not much else to say really. Except, perhaps, to point out that the South African fans in the Wellington at Waterloo last night were very cool (the Rose & Springbok has closed down and the Bok Bar had 100 people queuing outside, as did the Walkabout and the Maple Leaf, so we crossed the Thames and still the pub was packed!).

I wish Australian fans could learn from South African fans.

I wish English fans could learn from them. At least all the soccer fans who became rugby fans for a night.

Booing national anthems and jeering when the worthy champions pick up their trophy is churlish.

It's my birthday today and I would have been very happy to have woken up knowing that England were still World Champs, but I'm pleased that they did so well and answered so many critics (including me) in such a determined fashion.

We're not bottlers and I'm proud of that. The All Blacks have shown once more that they can't take the pressure, the Wallabies have shown once more that they can't take the pressure, the French have shown once more that they can't take the pressure - all three teams were tipped to win the Web Ellis Cup, but on the day they didn't look anything like winners.

I'll stand toe-to-toe with supporters of any of those three teams to argue that both England and third-placed Argentina played better when it mattered. Argentina ripped up the form book and has turned its plea to be included in an annual tournament into a deafening roar. England were nine points away from retaining the title and were arguably denied a stunning try (I need to watch the replays to decide, but from what I've seen it looks as though Cueto's foot glanced the line nanoseconds before he touched down).

Congratulations to the Springboks.

Maybe Lewis Hamilton can bring home the bacon today?

Anyway, onwards and upwards. I'm having a birthday party next Friday at the Waterloo Bar & Kitchen. Naturally all three of my avid readers are welcome to come along. Do send me an email at dom (at) dompannell.com if you're planning to turn up as I'm paying for food for my guests, generous lad that I am. You can buy your own booze, 'cos I'm not stupid.

Sartorial elegance

I have just spoken to Simon and we are agreed that we should sport our Tongan shirts over our England shirts to begin with tonight.

Nothing like spelling out where our allegiance lies, eh?

Simon's in the middle here.

I'm the attractive [sic.] curly-haired Tongan on the left. Richard, purveyor of fantastic Basque produce (I'm currently munching on the ham he gave me when we met in Lille) is the pygmy-Tongan on the right.

Sadly, Richard won't be at the Rose & Springbok this evening, but I'm sure he'd join me in yelling

Bring it on, Percy Montgomery!!

Inside Sales

After years of vaguely wondering what "inside sales" comprises, I've just found a definition over at Bitpipe.

ALSO CALLED: Internal Sales
DEFINITION: Sales conducted by those who sell by phone and/or do not leave the premises physically.

So, sales without meeting the people to whom one sells.

How utterly boring.

Since we can't be in the Stade de France

Simon and I have decided to enjoy the hospitality of our South African friends. We were going to rough it in the Bok Bar, but I remembered that there's another obvious choice...

I would post a picture, but the image is too large.

Anyway, my England shirt is in the washing machine as I type this. It should be bright white by the time I get to the pub - hopefully it'll stand out against a sea of green.

The England selection looks solid enough - good to see Catt, Gomarsall and Moody all in the starting line-up. I really hope to see Sackey flying down the wing (but do remember to touch the ball down as close to the centre as possible, dear boy) and expect great things from Sheridan in the pack, even against the Springboks' phenomenal second row.

I can hardly wait. COME ON ENGLAND!!

England expects!

Well, despite the sports news headlines today, I don't agree. Even though the timing could hardly be better, 'cos it's 202 years tomorrow since Admiral Nelson signalled the start of the Battle of Trafalgar, there's a fundamental difference: the chances are we'll be stuffed tonight!

England crosses its fingers and hopes.

I can see that my headline won't sell as many papers, but it's more honest.

Actually, to be perfectly truthful, the headline should read something like

England crosses its fingers and wonders what the rules are, while pretty much everyone else hopes that South Africa wins.

Once again, the non-rugby watching English majority has fallen in line behind the regular supporters, not because of any new-found love of the game, but because there's precious little else to cheer at (OK, there's the remarkable Lewis Hamilton, who will attempt to become Formula 1 World Champion in the early hours of tomorrow, but even the English haven't come up with Grand Prix chants). Given the state of English soccer at an international level, I guess it's not surprising.

I'm not complaining either. Just as long as there's space for me in the pub tonight so I can watch the match.

I admit I'm surprised by how many non-English are rooting for the Springboks, although I guess I should be used to the 'anyone but England' attitude by now, especially by people living and working here.

Even then, I'm not complaining. I'm just pleased that our team has reached the final and done it on merit. I've heard some complete twaddle over the past couple of weeks, mainly from Australians who are still smarting from their defeat at the hands of England who came from nowhere to out play them. I guess it must rankle that the team which bundled them out of the last RWC have done it again. But please wake up and smell the coffee, chaps, the Wallabies were outplayed by England and especially by Andy Sheridan, seen here demolishing Matt Dunning.

Of course I was amazed when France crumbled at the hands of Vickery and his gang - I didn't expect England to make it to the semi-finals, but once they were there, they played magnificently.

For three matches in a row, the England rugby team has played as a team.

I'll be crossing my fingers while holding my pint tonight, hoping that they can keep it up. If they do, they could be the first RWC champions to successfully defend their title.

Hmmm. It's been four years and I still enjoy that phrase.

"England are the rugby world champions."

So, we face the Saffers.

Bring it on.

It's going to be Jason Robinson's last game.

Go, Billy Whizz, go!!

I care about what I eat

and so does Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. I love his book Meat, which effectively starts with his manifesto on buying decent meat.

Watch this.

Buy free-range chickens and eggs, if you can afford it.

Lest I be accused of being smug...

... a quick web search on the phrase "rugby world champions" returns first this result

and secondly this one./

So it's not just me!

What a remarkable two weekends in a row.

The Aussies I was with last night were baffled. I haven't seen any French people yet.

Come on Argentina - those Saffers don't like it up'em!

Schkrambled eggs

Just back from the Albert Cuyp market and Cafe Buiten where I had lunch with Jeroen - scrambled eggs with ham and veggies mixed in on bread. Very tasty.

Now I'm off to Schiphol.

Blighty, here I come.

Dom in the 'Dam

I haven't posted much recently because I've been travelling again - plus I couldn't get a wireless connection last weekend (embarassingly John fixed my connection by switching my router off and on again).

Anyhoo, I'm back in crazhy Amshterdam...

I had a client meeting yesterday and Dave invited me to stay over at his place last night. And a crazhy night it was, too. Here's the sad result:

Dave's a shit-hot photographer, so I guess that if he takes a picture of me that makes me look like a pot-bellied hobbit, I'm just going to have to face facts.

We ended up in The Waterhole, watching two bands and talking to a mix of ex-pats, some of whom Dave knew before, some he didn't. Drinking was involved.

The only photo from last night was this picture of the fillet of 'meerval' I had for dinner last night in Dave's local, Cafe Kale.

(hmm, it's that pot-belly again).

Apparently meerval is catfish, although it tasted like trout. Ugly critters, catfish.

Right, I'm off to meet Jeroen for lunch. My belly needs feeding and I'm in herring country!

I'm off to Winchester tonight for another round of Wilbur's birthday, so there'll be more shenanigans to report.

Crazhy.