Saturday, 2 March 2013

First Impressions, St Petersburg


St Petersburg- “Beauty built on bones, classical facades that cradled revolution, summers that lie in the cup of winter” (Helen Dunmore, The Siege). I read this as a 16 year old, quickly scribbled the quote in the back of my history folder promising myself that I would go. It’s been a long wait… But on first impressions, it has not disappointed…..

The air is filled with the biting texture of a Russian Winter. Everything is covered in a shroud of snow. The Neva has turned to ice, it’s murky shallows snatching at the sun. It’s 2pm and it’s already dark; the city is a melancholy dream for the most devoted miserabilist. It is bitterly cold. My body feels anesthetized.  If you were to cut off my bumcheek, I’m sure I wouldn’t feel it.  It’s minus 10 and an arctic hush has descended on the broad proskpekts.

The street jostles with archetypal Soviet babushkas. They wear fur hats and sport formidable bosoms straining against bright wooly jumpers.



The Frozen Neva


When in Russia...



Onion Domes



St Petersburg is a masterpiece of water and baroque. A city built on an inhospitable marshy wasteland by Peter the Great as a window to Europe.  Whereas other European capitals were erected over centuries, St Petersburg was built in just 50 years according to strict principles. Erected as a monument to European grandeur upon the Finnish swamplands by conscripted workers who perished in their hundreds of thousands; Peter's antidote to the dark murky streets of old Muscovy ruled by orthodoxy and occultism.

Winter has cast a gauzy spell over the vast confection coloured buildings, their colourful Italian pulse subdued in the blue Nordic light. It is the only season when their austere Soviet cousins can issue a sigh of relief for they are not eclipsed by these immense rococo jelly-hued palaces, which sit sheepishly in the snow.

I've barely been here 5 minutes but am already in love with the place. There's a conspicuous duality to it which fascinates me. Imperial Russia and Communism...The mint green Winter Palace birthplace of the Red Revolution... Spirituality and science. Sunless winters and nightless summers. 





Just a tad Chernobyl




















Dad - Keeping Warm





Friday, 1 March 2013

Macaroon, Cupcake and Mille-Feuille Ennui? Minamato Kitchaon

When I went to Japan two curious things happened. 

First, I didn't like the sushi. Ok so maybe I like my maki-rolls stuffed with fried chicken and drizzled in jam. So I'm not a sushi purist- jeez no need to be a snob about it. The fish may have been slap-your-face fresh but you can wave sayonara to anything other than nigiri or sashimi. You just aint getting it busta.

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Secondly, I discovered the world of Wagashi, Japanese confectionary to you and me. And as far as worlds go, it's pretty darn moreish. Mochi, little squidgy balls of rice flour filled with bean paste, jellies in every flavour known to man, doryaki pancakes with custard creme. Now I think back, I've never eaten so much jelly. 

Recently I relived the experience at Minamoto Kitchoan on London's Piccadilly, unfortunately located across the street from my office. 


On weekdays it's a tranquil little oasis with cups of green tea matcha and soothing Japanese folk music. I enjoyed a green tea jelly cube with bean-paste along with a melon jelly mound (which was ok). Not as good as in Tokyo, but the perfect antidote to mille-feuille ennui.

44 Piccadilly, London
608 5th Ave #1  New York


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