Columnists
Sudi Piggott berates bad dinner guests, while Bill Knott extols the pleasures to be found in old books. And there’s art in Wolverhampton, says Corinne Miller
SPEAKERS’ CORNER
“I’M SORRY, I CAN’T EAT DAIRY OR RED MEAT – SEAFOOD BRINGS ME OUT IN A RASH AND ROOT VEGETABLES REPEAT ON ME. APART FROM THAT, ANYTHING’S OK.” SUDI PIGGOTT SAYS HELLO – AND GOODBYE – TO THE DINNER GUEST FROM HELL
DON’T YOU JUST hate fuss-pot foodies? On the one hand, it’s progress that being passionately interested in food is no longer considered out and out greed (I prefer to say I have a discerning, but capacious appetite). But the rise of faddy eating drives me (careful this may contain) nuts.
Of course, I’m wholly sympathetic to those with genuine and even life-threatening food allergies: to never be able to experience the pleasure of salted almonds with a dry Manzanilla sherry on a balmy evening is a sad state of affairs. But own up, there are too many faux foodies who seem to think cultivating a few special dietary needs makes them more interesting. Quite the contrary. They’re a pain to entertain and even worse, go out to dinner with.
It’s hard enough fixing a date to invite friends to dinner, but having managed to get eight of you to actually sit down together in three months’ time, the trouble starts. Unless you want to trawl the cookbooks, raid the farmer’s markets at dawn, frantically whirr, mix and griddle, it’s wisest to ask in advance if there’s anything your guests won’t (very different to can’t) eat.
There’s bound to be someone who professes wheat allergies, so forget the personalised gourmet sourdough rolls you were thinking about splurging on. Though I wonder if many who say they can’t tolerate bread, simply only know the taste of pap and have never made the effort to seek out a real loaf of beauty. Then there’s bound to be someone who doesn’t do butter unless it’s from a goat.
Serving seafood is asking for trouble. A couple of years ago, I decided to serve oysters at my significant birthday dinner. Though several friends confessed to being oyster virgins and a couple more had had unfortunate incidents, after a little fizz-induced encouragement they went for it, shucking with gleeful abandon. Not a single one regretted it.
But back to the dinner party. Meat is almost definitely out. They’re the beef refuseniks. For goodness sake, mad cow disease is over and anyway, I’d only serve rare-breed, fully traceable posh beef. And don’t ever consider game; it’s far too chancy – the merest whisper of “Beware the lead shot” can provoke hysterical outcry. Even vegetables can be tricky. An unusual brassica (and I’m talking broccoli varieties, not underwear) will just end up pushed around the plate. Lastly, never utter that dirty word ‘dessert’. How I hate those control freaks with botox appetites who protest their picking has left them far too full and just an espresso would be perfect. They’re invariably the sort who only ever eat two starters when we go out to dinner, too.
So what’s to be done? Issue friends with officious cards like it’s a hotel breakfast, to ascertain what they will or won’t eat? Or make it bring-your-own-dish and just provide the conversation and the drink? I have to say that’s worked for me and certainly makes life easier.
After all, dining grazing-style is very now. And if you’re greedy, people are less likely to notice – making being an indulgent gourmet a piece of cake.
How To Be A Better Foodie: A Bulging Little Book For The Truly Epicurious by Sudi Piggott,
Quadrille (£8.99)
Photography: iStockphoto
FLYING THE FLAG
BILL KNOTT GETS WISTFUL BLOWING THE DUST OFF OLD BOOKS
JUST OCCASIONALLY, A WHIFF of something familiar transports you right back to childhood. The smell of mother’s rice pudding, perhaps, or grandpa’s pipe. For me, the most evocative smell of all is the warm, sweet, spicy, musty aroma of second-hand bookshops: thousands of ancient, yellowing volumes, piled from floor to ceiling in a shabby seaside emporium, invariably presided over by a studious-looking, bearded old cove in half-moon glasses.
Although Hay-on-Wye has survived as a mecca for book lovers (see p60), many bookshops in England have closed down since the 1970s. There is, however, still a thriving second-hand trade – except now, inevitably, it is focused on the internet. Dealers have much lower overheads and can undercut what remains of their high-street rivals. The only retail outlets left are the sad shelves of old Barbara Cartlands in charity shops, competing with scuffed shoes and faded frocks. Or there’s the alfresco alternative of market stalls and car boot sales, neither of which can summon up the necessary air of fustiness to evoke the proper pleasure of browsing.
Now that pipe-smokers are a dying breed, now that home cooking means freezer-to-microwave, and now that second-hand bookshops are nearly extinct, what will spark the memories of today’s sensory-deprived children when they reach middle-age? Perhaps the solution is to keep one room in the house which is never dusted, the windows never cleaned, and in which old books are stacked on groaning shelves: a sort of Miss Havisham Memorial Library, to teach children the joy to be found in books – or rather, the joy to be recaptured by the smell of them.
CULTURE VULTURE
ART IS BLOOMING IN WOLVERHAMPTON, SAYS CORINNE MILLER
WHEN WOLVERHAMPTON ART Gallery opened a new triangular extension in March this year, it transformed the original Victorian gallery. Realised by Niall Phillips Architects, this beautiful, luminous white atrium is lit by natural and coloured artificial light. Now Wolverhampton may not be the first place that springs to mind when you think of art, but the Gallery first opened its doors way back in 1884. Its initial collections were the gifts of local businessmen and philanthropists – collections of applied arts and figurative painting and sculpture.
Corinne Miller is
head of Arts
and Museums
in
Wolverhampton
The appointment of curator David Rodgers in 1969, however, injected new vigour into the Gallery. By boldly acquiring the art of the day – notably Pop Art – the Gallery attracted press attention and spearheaded a national debate about the restrictions laid on the collections in regional galleries. This debate still rolls on today. The Pop Art Collection currently includes over 100 works by artists such as Andy Warhol, David Hockney and Peter Blake. The ground-floor Triangular Gallery is a permanent home for changing displays, probably the biggest outside London. Free access for the community is vital, providing education and space for reflection on today’s world. And never before has there been such need for communities, local and international, to reconsider how to present their own beliefs to others.
It’s a new era for Wolverhampton Art Gallery, but the aspirations of regional galleries remain largely unchanged. The Victorian picture galleries are excellent for showing paintings, but new art needs new spaces. Just as the original Victorian building aimed to improve the economy by supporting British designs, now contemporary galleries have taken a key role in rejuvenating economies through urban regeneration. Wolverhampton’s distinctive new areas give you space to step out of the hustle and bustle of modern life to reflect, chat, and unleash the creative spirit within.
Wolverhampton Art Gallery, Lichfield Street, Wolverhampton, WV1 1DU; +44 (0)1902 552055; www.wolverhamptonart.org.uk
