A tribute to the stuff that makes life less boring.

25/04/2012

The Great Blog Crossover: Talkin’ Sports


So, Alex Spencer.... Ladies love him, Gents love him... Hell, even small, furry creatures think he hung the moon. Alex, unlike me, is an actual journalist. If he ain’t writing, he’s probably thinking about it. His blog, alex-spencer.co.uk, discusses mainly videogames and films in a level of detail which leaves mere mortals wondering what they did to deserve being so desperately poor at writing. This is the second half of a blog crossover what we done. I’m going to file it in with ‘momentous life events that nobody else cares about’. It’s a big file. What I’m trying to say is, MY FRIEND ALEX IS GOOD AT WRITING SO I’M HAPPY THAT HE WANTED TO WRITE ON MY BLOG.

Considering that I don’t think much thought went in (certainly on my end), an amazing symmetry has occurred. I relieved myself on everything that Alex loves (having favourite things) and now he’s going to take a massive dump on a passion of mine (sport. Pointless, lovely sport).



At some point last week, I remembered that it was a European Championship year. It was a mildly exciting moment, especially given the tedious Olympicmania that has been allegedly sweeping the country for the last year. This was, though, an anomalous moment in a largely sportsless life.

I just don't really get sport. Cohabiting with sporting enthusiasts – including the ocherous overlord of this very blog – I've often marvelled at their enthusiasm. Rising offensively early and pulling all-nighters to catch sports played on distant parts of the globe, entire weekends given over to worship of 22 men kicking an inflatable sphere.

The phenomenon has long puzzled me, but as my dad sat in my living room yesterday morning and translated an F1 race for me, I've come finally to this simple conclusion: I just can't read.

In my brief dalliances in teaching English Literature, trying to convince a room of teenagers to pick subtext and meaning out of the literary devices in poems older than the town they lived in, I often found myself butting up against the same argument. Yeah, sir, but what if he just wanted to do it like that? It's a conversation I've found myself in endlessly in my life as an arts student, journalist, and all round massive ponce. Aren't you just overthinking it a bit? When it comes to sport, oh, how those tables are turned.

Apparently, there's a whole language in the preparations, decisions and movements of these sportspeople – I just can't read it.

With sufficient amounts of lager, I can enjoy the occasional 90-minute stint of foot-to-ball watching, but I don't really understand what's going on between each goal. The way fans of a sports can move from the microscopic to the universal, finding meaning in the tiniest of movements before applying it to the tectonic shifts of entire leagues, just isn't something I'm capable of.

Really, it's the same skillset, of finding meaning which may or may not be there, that I am lucky enough to be able to apply to literature, music, and videogames. You can't be good at everything.

And though the bilingual bastards who can interpret both culture and sports – like our gracious, copper-haired host – are to be admired and feared, it's a though I find comfort in. Occasionally, I've found others' mania for sport frustrating, and wished it would just go away. But knowing that it's just another discipline I'm not talented at, the same way I can't analyse ballet or politics, or speak Mandarin, that all seems rather silly.

So from now on, I'll happily sit down with an enthusiastic friend and watch their sport of choice, knowing they're engaging in the sacred act of pattern-spotting, picking out a narrative in the complex mess of stuff going on, that has has given birth to millennia of culture, discovery, and religion.

But, if it's all the same, I'll just watch for the beer and the crashes.

14/04/2012

Sweet and Spicy Roasted Butternut Squash Soup

There is a perfect balance to be found here, with the sweetness of roasted butternut squash, sweet red peppers and mangoes followed by a spicy, savoury hit from chilli, cumin, paprika and chorizo. I used lentils mainly because I have a massive bag of them, but they are great at making something like soup more satisfying. This soup is so good, you wouldn’t be disappointed if you had a bowl with a toastie or a sandwich for your evening meal. And let’s face it, soup is near the top of the list of disappointing evening meals. This one is so versatile, I even had it with rice. It was brilliant with a cold beer.

hmm. looks proper unappetising.
Should serve 5/6 people

Ingredients:
1 butternut squash
Olive oil
4/5 cloves garlic
1 onion
1 teaspoon chilli powder
2 teaspoons cumin
2 teaspoons paprika
2/3 inches of chorizo (ahem.)
½ cup red lentils
1 litre chicken stock
4 roasted sweet red peppers (the kind in a jar)
2/3 teaspoons (preferably spicy) mango chutney



Method:

1.       Peel and slice up the squash, removing the seeds, and put it on a baking tray with a coating of olive oil. Put it in the oven at high/full whack until it looks roasted looking. Half an hour maybe.
2.       Whilst the squash is roasting, peel and chop the onion and garlic and cook on a very gentle heat in a little oil in the bottom of your massive soup pot for about 5 minutes, lid on.
3.       Chop the chorizo and throw that in – cook for a few minutes so that the oil oozes out a bit
4.       Chuck in your spices, and cook them for a few minutes
5.       Add the lentils and chicken stock, and stir it about a bit. Bring to a simmer, put the lid on and cook until the lentils are tender. 15-20 minutes should do it.
6.       Stir in the peppers, mango chutney and your roasted squash leave on a gentle heat for another 5 minutes.
7.       Blend the lot. Ideally you want one of those handheld blender things.

Disclaimer: Timings and quantities may be seriously, properly wrong. Use your wits.