at the Lowry Theatre in Salford last night in a production by Opera North. I wasn't all that impressed, the singing was fine except for the lead who seemed to have little character. Not good when your supposed to be playing a grade 'A' lothario. The whole thing was a bit lacklustre.
We went for a pizza beforehand and the menu was pretty so so except for the references to 'torn chicken'. Torn chicken! What the fuck is that? I nearly missed ordering a pepperoni special by becoming locked into an obsessive hunt for other stupid descriptions, I also hate food that's been 'drizzled'. I think there's some crossover between estate agents and chefs where each develop ever more ludicrous ways of describing stuff that's really, and I mean really, basic. For instance when a house is advertised as 'of special interest to those who like DIY' you know the building has most probably been condemned and its current use is as a play ground for children who are strangely attracted to fire. Similarly with menus, what's advertised may not necessarily have any real link to what you actually get. I mean what exactly is a Whimsy of Brushed Ox? Or for that matter a Chinook of Flaked Moulle? Or stuff that's been 'shaved'? And in the starters whatever happened to the word 'soup'? A bold word, a word that once declared itself as honest and moral and true. Soup used to be worthy and uplifting, soup used to be broth. God, I can't even type the word broth without feeling cleansed. Soup though seems to have lost favour in restaurants, it has become other things, now it can be a tureen or a tranquility. Just below the headline consomme (which is an okay word cos it's French and classy by definition) can be listed such things as a Lutheran of Pricked Barley, or Leeks with Braised Mummer served on a delightful concatenation of agar and diesel.
They wish us to believe that restaurant food has not been cooked so much as wept over then shipped to the table on a river of tears. Oh yeah!
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