When last we met, I was discussing all things Italian.
Since then, the country has been in the news for a fast spread of Covid-19 and the subsequent panic across the rest of Europe. That this pandemic was predicted in a horror novel several years ago, could be a storyline from a Twilight Zone episode – or hints at time travel – and, as if by magic, there is much more on all of this later.
However, we start with pizza.
Half term was made up of halcyon days and moments. A trip to Il Capitano’s, our local pizzeria, was one of the real highlights: given that I celebrated my fortieth there, it’s a special place anyway what with the warm welcome you get and the excellent ingredients used, but this visit was even better than the first, thanks to the specials we ordered. A Tuscan sausage and broccoli white pizza; a frutti di mare (including clams) without cheese and, best of all, the Carbonara pizza which was like nothing I’ve tasted on a base before.
In fact, I’d go so far as to say this place’s pizza is the best I’ve had in the eight years of domestic bliss since our honeymoon in Naples (where I even went to the birthplace of the dish) and, possibly, in this country. Given my affection for the Neapolitan riviera – and my experiences tasting pizza in a variety of establishments over the years – that’s high praise indeed, so I’d recommend you go there ASAP.
A very different – but just as impressive – meal experience awaited us a few days later. We’d been looking forward to visiting Kala Bistro in Manchester since before it had opened, and – having already been to Pinion a couple of times and Wreckfish, too – knew it was going to be special. I spoke last time of my admiration for Gary Usher and discussed his management style (as well as Nike trainers) with our brilliant waiter. We opted for the fixed price lunch as we were on our way to somewhere special, and ended up swapping meals half way through so that the other could enjoy the myriad flavours and textures the excellent starters and main courses provided.
I started with a Gin Mare and some delightfully marinated olives, then the gorgeously pink pate whilst WW went for the smoked haddock fishcake with a pretty green parsley mayonnaise and a celeriac remoulade. Really fresh flavours, matching the bottle of Provence Rose we’d picked perfectly. Then, a beautiful bream with some amazing cucumber & spring onion salad before swapping for the unctuous pork knuckle with fennel orzo, macadamia, salsa verde and a treacley sauce, accompanied by some tenderstem broccoli with anchovy mayo. Finally, what the missus described as the ‘best Crunchie ever’ chocolate and honeycomb semifreddo, whilst I devoured a tawny port with some lovely Lincolnshire Poacher.
Quite simply, delicious and cool in equal measure.
Then it was on to the Opera House and something we’d been looking forward to for years since the potential Back To The Future Musical was mooted. We got the tickets the day they were announced last year, meaning we were there two days after the world premiere. This also meant there were several uber-fans present in the audience, whose outfits made the event all the more memorable. I saw a few Docs – coincidentally, whom I was dressed as by a group of excitable women during my 80s themed surprise thirtieth birthday party – and a few more Marties, including one guy who went the whole hog and had not only the cap and auto-fit jacket from BTTF2 but also the Nike trainers I’ve longed dreamed about and it was the first time I saw them in real life. I was in awe but didn’t take a picture as he was there with his little daughter (about the same age as B) and I was really impressed that he had introduced her to the trilogy at such a young age.
Even the couple in front of us in the theatre had brought their young son, replete with Marty McFly ‘life preserve’ and double denim and, do you know what?
He was called Elijah.
The performance itself was incredible and probably the best on-stage production we’ve ever seen. That the creative team behind this had done one of my favourite films such justice made me cry real tears at one point in the afternoon. Yes, the power of love right there: tears of joy, of wonder, recalling one of my earliest trips to the cinema and a lasting image throughout the years since then, included at seminal moments and still enjoyed and the gift that keeps on giving. For example, I heard recently that Biff Tannen – the misogynist bully – is based on Donald Trump!
And, only tonight, a contestant on Mastermind had the Trilogy as her specialist subject (I had chosen it as one of mine when I applied a couple of years ago: tonight I would have got 9, and she got 10, although I’d have beaten her overall) but, back to the show, the cast were amazing at recreating the iconic characters from the original film and the writers were very clever in their adaptations. The sound and the effects were incredible, too, and as for the DeLorean: you’ll have to see it to understand why I was so taken with the show.
Even seeing the original actors now, can be emotive:
Afterwards, we enjoyed a few drinks in Spinningfields at the Oast House with old friends for a lovely catch up and subsequently missed the train home, meaning a couple more at the Atlas Bar, which was nice.
The following week, things went back to normal and I eagerly anticipated the return of The Twilight Zone. It was somewhat serendipitous that the first episode might have been based on a podcast episode, after I’d written last month about how certain Podcasts had changed my life, and – as if by magic – I time-travelled back to my MA studies ten years ago when a fortune cookie also changed my life and I learned there had previously been a Twilight Zone episode about a similar situation.
This time around , the first episode was a very clever conceit wherein a guy listens to a podcast on a flight about the flight he is actually on; art imitating life, and podcasts resonating with a listener’s current situation… you couldn’t have made it up. I thought I was in the Twilight Zone myself, a feeling confirmed the following morning when I heard a bizarre story on the radio about someone buying an engagement card which was already written in. This led to an investigation over about a week, with the aim of hunting down the couples in question and then solving the mystery.
In the end, it was pretty straightforward, but it all reminded me of projects from the past – messages, notes, found communication forming fabricated narratives – which I (somewhat serendipitously) stumbled upon when preparing to decorate the back room and the discovery took me back in time.
Not quite thirty years, but still a time when things seemed easier. After this week, it would be understandable to go even further back in time to when people were quarantined, houses sectioned off, animals made scapegoats and people wore elaborate contraptions as panic as well as a disease spread like wildfire. Sadly, exciting events planned for the next few weeks have been postponed (a reunion with Andre Gomes, ‘Brewster’s Millions’ the musical) but this obviously means very little when people are dying.
Talking of football and spending money a nice little coincidence also occurred this week as my mum took my lad to Bootle Strand as he loves the myriad vehicles there. It was her first visit, so we discussed the place in detail. Very little surprises me in this world, but I was startled to see Carlo was also there only two days later. Things like all this make you question what exactly is going on and what will happen next…
