film review: blue is the warmest colour

There are a handful of classic films I can’t wait to re-watch, but I’m patiently waiting until our Smalls are old enough. They’re not classics in the sense of The Railway Children or It’s a Wonderful Life. No, I’d label them more as coming-of-age, must-see-growing-up films and I’d start with The Breakfast Club and end with Pretty in Pink, ensuring that St Elmo’s Fire and Flashdance were absolutely not omitted.  While there is no doubt that they’d feel dated and we’d wince at the fashion, the messaging is sound and the identification strong.  And Blue Is The Warmest Colour would be the most recent, absolutely contemporary yet utterly worthy, addition to my playlist. (albeit they’d need to be 18).

Curzon Soho was sold out

Curzon Soho was sold out

He and I saw it last night at the Curzon Soho.  Actually, its release was perfectly timed as it’s rare that we have the opportunity to see a 550pm screening (totally necessary for a 3 hour film).  But, seeing as the Smalls were playing away at Lord and Lady Y’s, we added this Cannes Film Festival applauded vision to our list of freedom-treats. And, as you can see from my snap, every seat in this 120-seater cinema was sold out.  5 women to every curious man as this cinema epic promised almost 10 minutes of passionate girl-on-girl ie every man’s dream.  (more of which later).

So a few basics first.  I had expected that the film would simply be a love story, between high-school student Adèle (Adèle Exarchopoulos) and a more sophisticated, middle-class artist, Emma (Léa Seydoux).  And if you ask Him, he’ll agree that it was.  Except that’s NOT what I saw.  For me, this is a tale of an adolescent girl discovering her sexuality. Adèle’s journey (French title ‘La Vie d’Adèle—Chapitres 1 et 2’) is set in the northern French city of Lille, and this a 3-hour character study spanning several years of her exploration.  Initially we see her dating a boy, we witness her vivid and passionate dreams of a blue-haired female and, on several occasions, we feel her emotion.

Blue Is The Warmest Colour

Blue Is The Warmest Colour

Her tale is not just one of woe and passion though.  Adèle is a devotee to school and learning.  We see her relish the pages of her French literature, so much so that she bases her career choice as a teacher to ‘give back’.  And she writes, but solely for herself (she points out) as it is this journal writing which enables her to face up to her true feelings.

Adele and Emma - the love and passion

Adèle & Emma – their eyes tell the story

So a (partial) love story, a gay coming-of-age tale, a desire for education and some pretty hot steamy lesbian passion… but none of qualities won Abdellatif Kechiche this year’s Palme D’Or.  No, it is, quite simply, his camera work.  Kept tight and close, we feel Adèle.  Not in a sexual way, but in an ‘under the skin’ connection which allows us to be almost as intimate with the two girls as they are with each other.  Adèle’s lips (especially slurping her spaghetti bolognaise), her intense eyes as she first catches sight of Emma’s blue hair, the tears (of which there are plenty) and her hair.  Oh don’t get me started on her hair…. I don’t think I have EVER had such hair envy as I had in this film…  But – yes – the way that this French film is shot makes it the cinematic feast worthy of Steven Spielberg and his Cannes jury’s praise.

oh the hair envy...

oh the hair envy…

And, lastly, I’m not sure what you might want to know in advance about the infamous scene of intimacy.  My male readers might want to know if it is pornographic.  I suppose it is.  It’s intense and long and … crucial.  I, for one, felt sheer relief for Adele in her world of sexual discovery as we are only too painfully aware just how detached she had felt, until her relationship with Emma.

Last year I raved about Rust and Bone as my 2012 film of the year.  This is, without doubt, my equivalent for 2013.

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cronut, duffin, dough-sant – what IS this current craze of hybrid pastries all about?

Relax.  I’m not going to spin you a tall story about any brand new kind of anything.  I just want to calmly and quietly examine the behaviour and attitude towards this sudden invasion of renamed pastries.  But, before I find myself knee-deep in sugar and dough, I feel I should add that this is not simply a UK issue but instead a global obsession which has, in short, made a mockery of the plain buttery croissant, France’s breakfast staple since 1869.

The Cronut

The Cronut

For those living under a (stick of) rock, let me explain.  Once upon a sugary time in a world where none of us ever questioned the light, fluffy croissant nor the sugar-high of the American doughnut, lived a chef called Dominique Ansel.  It seems that he quite fancied himself as a pastry inventor. While he experimented with combining the two carb-loaded treats, he created what he has called (and, by the way, no-one else is allowed to use his globally trademarked name) the Cronut. His plan went well and, most days, the limited run of around 300 Cronuts cooked in his Manhattan bakery sell out within two hours of his doors opening, at 6am.  In fact, I hear that a queue of at least 50 Cronut hunters forms most mornings before his doors open.  This $5 croissant-donut hybrid could be considered no less than a hot commodity.

the queue for The Cronut

the queue for The Cronut

I was recently in New York but I had absolutely no urge to queue.  What I should have done was to head down to the bakery queue to find out why on earth anyone would WANT to wait in line at such an ungodly hour.  Is it the novelty, the limited bake run, the sugar-powered marketing, the deep-fried challenge or the post purchase claim that is driving these sweet-toothed, cool-hunter New Yorkers?   Just using my primary school maths, I can estimate that a large number of them must be rising pre-dawn only to be turned away without a Cronut touching their lips.  Close enough to smell the sweet buns and yet so far from tasting Ansel’s creation, it feels like a sorry old tale.

And the pastry mash-up craze has not ended with this Stateside bakery either.  Over here in the UK, Starbucks is currently at the centre of a row with a small London bakery over the ‘Duffin’, this time a muffin and doughnut rehash.  Owner Bea Vo, of Bea’s of Bloomsbury, is the creator of this sticky, sugary treat.  A couple of years ago she experimented with a buttermilk and nutmeg batter which she then baked and stuffed with raspberry jam, before dipping it in melted butter and dusting with sugar. So you can imagine that she is not best pleased to find out that Starbucks has just started retailing its own version (also with raspberry jam) and, worse than this, has gone and trademarked the ludicrous name. Surely the international giant coffee chain has a large enough marketing team to dream up its own pastry ideas, rather than steal from independent cafes?  Bea Vo’s concept could have changed her life, whereas in the other cup, the watery coffee at Starbucks could never claim to change anyone’s existence.  The Duffin update, as of today, is that the baked controversy is still cooking in social media, where on Twitter it even has its own hashtag: #Duffingate

#duffingate

#duffingate

Curiously, in a world where the importance of our ‘5-a-day’ is drummed into us on a daily basis, these calorific buns are clearly raising our blood pressure.  But is this an unhealthy interest in something quite so sugary?  It appears that donuts and their derivatives are booming, with Krispy Kreme announcing a fattening 12.6% rise in sales in the UK this year.

As a keen marketer who appreciates challenging new ideas, I certain applaud the innovation and general buzz around any brand new product.  Driven by our word of mouth, the whole pastry hybrid outbreak is one which we love to chew over.  Friends have bought the Coco de Maya version (called the Cro-Dough £3.70) could not wait to inform me of, what is considered to be, cialis canada pharmacy the sweetest and most fancy of the bunch.  It seems that news of new pastries travels fast and furiously, and even Nigella Lawson boasts her own version of a sticky hybrid.

Harrods Foodhall:  the dough-sant

Harrods Foodhall: the dough-sant

I suppose what is concerning me most is our intense reaction.  To want a Birkin handbag enough to join a 2-year wait list, to crave a table at the hottest new eatery so much that you shamelessly borrow someone else’s (famous) name or to queue pre-dawn for a pastry hybrid feels wrong and bad and totally inappropriate.  However the last laugh has to be from our New York baker.  His only dread must be that we all go cold turkey on sugar after Christmas as this might lead to his beloved Cronut having an even shorter shelf life …

 

 

 

 

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Restaurant review: Marianne on Chepstow

I love the cross-section of Notting Hill

I love the cross-section of Notting Hill

Everything about my review of Marianne was looking curiously negative.  I don’t watch Masterchef (therefore utterly ignorant as to who the reality show’s runner-up even is), fine-dinning has a habit of irritating me and a restaurant as small as 25 square foot means talking in hushed tones (a physical impossibility for me).

Marianne with its spy window into the kitchen

our table at Marianne with its spy window into the kitchen

But when Giles Coren slated her and it saying that Marianne offered ‘essentially gastropub dishes’ on a pricy set menu, I was intrigued.  How could he be so damning when others (Time Out, Guardian, Telegraph etc) were all throwing **** in her direction?

Lumb in her kitchen

Lumb in her kitchen

Then the booking wasn’t easy – after all with only 14 covers Marianne should be pretty busy, all the time. Anyway, I finally found a date (forced to lunch), invited the ballet girls (more accurately: mums who daughters do ballet) and began to research Marianne Lumb and here is what I found:

–                Daughter of a butcher in Leicestershire

–                Ex-chalet girl

–                Chef to the rich and famous (Lady Bamford to Elton John)

–                Final 3 of 2009 MasterCHef

–                Marianne, her 1st venture, opened in Sept 2013

And then I was really interested.

I managed to resist the bread and butter having read what was to come

I managed to resist the bread and butter having read what was to come

The ballet girls and I enjoyed our meal enormously last Friday.  Marianne, as restaurant, is extremely small while the chef herself is statuesque.  Matt, the maître d’/sommelier, is just the right amount of kooky while the food is nothing less than exquisite.

burrata and saffron tortellini with celeriac and lovage consommé

burrata and saffron tortellini with celeriac and lovage consommé

It feels like a hidden secret with its impeccable décor, crisply laundered linen and flawless crockery.  But (and I know I keep saying this) it IS small.  One snort and the other four tables will know it was you.

Rennes pigeon with chanterelles, puy lentils and pumpkin

Rennes pigeon with chanterelles, puy lentils and pumpkin

William pear tarte tatin with vanilla icecream

William pear tarte tatin with vanilla icecream

Through a window of knives you can see Lumb and her sous-chef.  I hear she is a little shy but we managed to lure her out once the job was done.  And she was natural and honest and modest and…. I suppose just a little posh.  But that’s not a bad thing, surely?

she's modest and natural - oh and an exquisite chef!

she’s modest and natural – oh and an exquisite chef!

Coren, I rarely disagree with you so would urge you to revisit Marianne.  There’s no sign of pub food within this micro-fine-dine.  So, my readers, don’t be put off by the size either.   I’d suggest you book what is London’s smallest restaurant for 13 of your closest friends for as soon as this very talented chef can fit you in.  There’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll be sporting a Michelin star before Gregg Wallace can say: “cooking doesn’t get tougher than this”.

Marianne 104 Chepstow Road, London W2 (020-3675 7750)

Lunch: £38 for three courses. Dinner: £48 for three courses

 

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good clean fun

P1010224Bath time in our house is BIG.  It really does signify the end of the Smalls’ afternoon and it’s their time to chill out, regress a little and even divulge a few secrets from their day.

Bubbles, games, toys and the weekly hairwash ritual are all part of the fun.  So when British beauty brand Baylis & Harding offered to send us their recently launched range called Funky Farm we splashed a bit with excitement!

Funky Farm by

Funky Farm by Baylis & Harding

smelly bubbles

smelly bubbles

The items we were sent, which by the way only consist of hypo-allergenic and pH balanced ingredients, were Strawberry Bath and Shower Gel, Mint Bath & Shower Gel and a Character Wash Mitt. (all come as a pack for £12-00) and the brilliant Funky Farm Daisy Bath and Shower Gel (£3-00).

P1010228

And then to add to our soap water, we were also showered with Daniel Galvin Jr’s pH balanced 2 in 1 shampoo & body wash called Dubble Trubble. Again, with only the gentlest of ingredients and a deliciously fruity smell, Dubble Trubble is free of parabens – as you would expect from the organic pioneer and celebrity hair colourist.

we're busy tonight.  washing our hair...

we’re busy tonight. washing our hair…

Reporting from Life of Yablon HQ where Mini and Small are (temporarily) squeaky clean.

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