Talking of weddings, it was our sixth anniversary in the middle of them all and we celebrated, as has become customary, with a special meal together.
My dreams of winning Masterchef may have been shelved, for now, but the traditions of our enjoying fine dining together once a year are upheld every April; planned months in advance, with every mouthful savoured and memories cherished.
Before we married we had a few memorable evenings at special places; Fergus Henderson’s St. John (bone marrow, eel, hare… all glorious) and the Carriage Works here in LPL as well as Anthony Bourdain’s Les Halles in New York. But, it really all started at L’Ortolan in Reading. A wedding present and introduction to the world of the sommelier, expertly matching wine for our enjoyment.
First anniversary? Negresco in Nice. Waiter was Franck, looked after us so well as Lisa was ‘enceinte’ and I had a wonderful steak tartare made tableside.
Second? L’Enclume. Unforgettable attention to detail and so many things of beauty.
Third was at Manchester House. Really well looked after, very clever combinations and an hour in the company of chef patron afterwards.
Fourth… Northcote. I got a tour of the kitchen as compensation for – pregnant again – wifey being sick. The food was amazing, by the way.
Adam Reid at The French in Manchester was the fifth, and arguably the best yet. Dramatic and theatrical, with a stunning soundtrack to match and again, what a great guy.
All of which meant that our lunch at Wreckfish had a lot to live up to… and boy, did it deliver.
Walking in, I saw they had Inedit on draught. A beer created by the great Ferran Adria to accompany pretty much any meal, this was the first time I’d seen it on tap so I already had a good feeling.
When we were discussing the paint colour as an option for our house exterior, and I saw one of my all-time heroes walk past the window, I kind of knew this was going to be an unforgettable couple of hours.
We ordered food and wine and were impressed by the relaxed vibe of the place. Very ‘bistro-y’ with an open kitchen and extremely welcoming, which you’d expect from a place launched via crowdfunding. Friends have eaten and been impressed by the sister ventures over the water, and I’d been impressed by Gary Usher (as well as his tattoos) on the TV and in interviews, plus with an upcoming Prescot addition to the family.
You can assist in the crowdfunding of Pinion… find out more here
The value of the fare on offer was incredible, too, especially given the quality of what we were about to receive.
We’d had a drink beforehand in the converted church that featured in The Golden Vision, so it was appropriate that – for what we were about to eat – we were truly thankful.
Starters, then… Ox heart like I’d never tasted; burrata and wild garlic sauce which was both soft and vibrant, green, punchy. Mains? I opted for the braised featherblade of beef with celeriac puree and buttered hispi – the most amazing bit of cabbage I’ve eaten since holidays at my grandparents -and WW opted for the Confit duck leg with an amazing pearl barley broth and kale. All accompanied by the most decadent and moreish parmesan and truffle chips.
The heart sang; the stomachs smiled in agreement.
Service was excellent, too, and we can’t wait to go back.
No room for desserts, we indulged ourselves in a double espresso and a cuddle of a baby with a couple on the next table who’d travelled over from Leeds for the experience. They, like us, were savouring every moment, every mouthful, and made us want to rush home to the kids but recognise how lucky we were to have had the opportunity to enjoy the couple of hours – and courses – as much as we did.
All in all, a perfect way to celebrate our six years of wedded bliss. We even receive some heavenly fudge and honeycomb, to acknowledge the ‘sweet / sugar’ symbolism.
In summary – just in case anyone wasn’t sure – I would urge anyone with tastebuds, an interest in supporting independent ventures or just a free couple of hours for a memorable experience, to go to Wreckfish.
All the great things in life come in threes: Back to The Future. The Holy Trinity. Adidas. Leighton Baines.
Similarly, the best stories, such as ‘A Christmas Carol’, delve into the past, present and future – just like the BTTF trilogy did, too – and both prompted big changes in the lifestyles and life journeys of the protagonists they feature.
Meanwhile, I think I’ve started my mid-life crisis: I’m constantly reflecting, documenting and planning – and not just in the day job. I’m adapting my look, buying tuxedos and planning more tattoos… let’s go back to easier times: 1998, to be exact.
The Past
I’ve been living back in the nineties for a while. Fashions, music, memories of growing up… Next week we celebrate two decades since I ran on the pitch on the last day of the season to celebrate survival with ‘Big Rich’ in the rain.
In those twenty odd years since that era, I’ve also become close friends with two men who played integral parts in my own wedding and over Easter, got married themselves.
Two colleagues also tied the knot during the holidays, and we wish all the couples the very best of love and luck in the future.
All the events were special and memorable in their own rights, and a good time was had by all at each – but for very different reasons. On the first occasion, we ended up on the darker side of town until the wee small hours: in fact, the latest night out I’ve had since becoming a father.
Saw one of my favourite paintings… revisited old haunts.
Drinking shots with ex pupils, we had a great time, but it was a timely reminder that we’re not nineteen forever, and to pull ourselves together… though we did it all again a few days later in beautiful surroundings, and I learned a wonderful new word which summed up the groom – and me, at times –very nicely.
Loquaciousness is a virtue.
It makes my job more enjoyable, builds relationships (and profiles online) but can sometimes get people into spots of bother if an injustice has been done; indeed, only last month two witches debated the issue in the presence of winged monkeys but thankfully, like in the film, the good one was victorious. Similarly, speech – written this time, as first person narratives – had a life changing impact when I read two powerful (albeit very different) books which aren’t necessarily aimed at people like me but got me into the head of both a ten year old boy with Treacher-Collins syndrome, and a sixteen year old #BlackLivesMatter protestor who witnessed a terrible injustice.
Wonder, in particular, absorbed me completely and I love everything about it. Please, please read it and fall in love with it like I – and my classes – have.
The present
Back to the weddings, and it was nice to be around such love on the anniversary of our own special day, six years ago. We would celebrate with a very special mealand guest, the following week… but more of that later.
The first was in Shropshire and, on the way there, I saw my work from a previous life which suggested good omens for the happy couple.
Once there, we got ready and rushed to the idyllic venue where we mixed with fascinating people in a fairytale setting.
We felt very special and humbled to be part of such a wonderful event…
The boys were back… Not in town, but somewhere altogether more special and memorable.
After a beautiful ceremony in a most romantic landscape, the perfectly chosen reading, drink, dinner and dance it was back to normal life of trips to the beach, museums, attempting to rest…
Celebrating the genius and glory of Andres Iniesta Lujan:
Making trips to Tressell’s grave:
And just doing normal, everyday stuff, like measuring one’s wingspan at KSP.
The third and final wedding of the fortnight was the most unusual as it was Vegan and (thankfully) teetotal. I was the proudest (joint) best man that ever lived, though traditions went out of the window and for that, I was glad.
The day before, we arrived at this beautiful house on Tooting Common which has been the location for several photo, film and cookery book shoots and there were even ring tailed parakeets in the garden.
Just… wow.
The kitchen itself was immense, and a walk down the high street whetted the appetites although we stayed true to the theme of the weekend and loved the vegan diet.
It was so lovely to spend quality time with Jay, his lovely wife Helen, and various family and friends who were joining in the fun.
The ceremony itself was very special, at the King’s Road Chelsea Town Hall:
Then it was back to the house for the speeches…
I won’t relay the whole speech, but will offer the edited highlights to give you a flavour of what I spoke about. I nearly cried at two points, but overall am proud of my contribution.
I wore a Sgt Pepper’s t-shirt to remind everyone that ‘all you need is love’ and hinted at some of my memories with the groom: him lying on a car bonnet with trousers around his ankles after a house party, and unrelated near fights in Lancaster; sombreros in Durham; crazy wine bars in London; injured animals in Brisbane and him Upsetting a room full of people on my wedding day before two fantastic nights of the London art scene in 2012.
We’ve shared two memorable non stag dos, one to Barcelona for art galleries, beer and football and most recently a vegan meal at a posh restaurant which shows how we’ve grown up. I wrote recently about the trip – Coogan and Brydon, it’s all on youtube… Both occasions offered us chance to reflect on the monumental changes our lives have gone through since we first met on our first day of year 7, twenty seven years ago.
I say first day at school, actually, we had met before then; on a football pitch at the Reebok Soccer 6s competition when I scored past him for my wonderfully named team ‘Green Graffiti’ and then on Christ Church field when our primary schools met… That we became friends was incredible because Jay is so competitive that he normally falls out with people who beat him. I’ve seen him smash many a tennis racquet and gold club in anger; even the bananagram sets are not safe in his hands.
Foreign travels, the travails of love and work and modern life means that apart from a drunken meeting a couple of years ago, I’d not seen the family for about twenty years – and loved meeting the bride’s family, so welcoming and generous and having heard so much about them; further thanks and congratulations.
I thanked the bride for making my friends life so complete. The first time I met her we discussed Alan Partridge at length, and I was stunned by her niceness, so offered advice to the newlyweds on behalf of Poppy troll who declared the immortal words, “it’s not all cupcakes and rainbows but it’s real love”.
I decided I should read a poem and their meeting as vegans – plus the pragmatic, stripped down, homely and ‘real’ feel of the day- meant there was only one option.
Valentine
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love.
Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief.
I am trying to be truthful.
Not a cute card or a kissogram.
I give you an onion. Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips, possessive and faithful as we are, for as long as we are.
Take it. Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring, if you like.
Lethal. Its scent will cling to your fingers, cling to your knife.
a strange choice, some of you will think: Onions? Well, I was trying to be truthful; I was being honest about love and its everyday practicalities. I wanted to purvey the message that you have to work at it and, peeling back the layers, works out ok in the end.
Anyway, being a best man for Jay, I felt truly honoured… but don’t ever want to do it again. Still, at the end of my speech I tried to toast the bridesmaids, but even in that amazing kitchen, there was not a toaster big enough (I borrowed that joke from a wedding I attended sixteen years ago) so instead focused on the happy couple.
The evening was so relaxed – no alcohol, vegan vibes and just unforgettable moments of love, once again – that I wanted to savour every moment.
Reflecting:
We wish all the happy couples the very best for their lives together, and the theme of love carried on to the next morning, when we paid homage to the lovely Tracey Emin’s new neon at St. Pancras:
I really do.
The Future
The other – slightly less big – memorable moment of the past month was my getting an email off the club inviting me to attend one of the Dan Meis events. I actually missed my son’s first haircut for this, so was determined to extricate as much information as possible from it, hence the detail. I walked away with optimism and feeling free from the despondency which has filled my brain and heart for what feels like an eon and I’ll just recount what the aides memoirs seem to mean.
The architect wants the ground to “grow out of the dock” like – as I understood, a creature form the black lagoon but in a good way – and the initial images of inspiration were just perfect : the clock, the church we were in, all suggested he ‘gets it’. He mentioned brick and wood, the clear panels on the sides of the main stand and the GS and the need to use what seem like outdated materials in the new gaff. He discussed solar panels, the differences between North South and East West stadium orientations, and gave a great reference point of the Baltimore baseball stadium that mixes the old and new quite superbly.
I spoke to a friend at one of the weddings I referenced earlier, who writes for the Guardian Sport section in New York, about this and he was vociferous in his claim that said stadium is the inspiration for so many others across the States.
Meis then talked about how it wouldn’t be totally symmetrical, given the dimensions of the dock, and how a huge fan zone could be ‘the front door to the stadium’ with the iconic hydraulic tower being used as a pub or the team store, or choosing the option of incorporating a store inside the stadium like the unforgettable Barca store I’ve spent many a Euro in. This could also include a museum, he said, again referencing Camp Nou as a shining example of what could be achieved.
Overhead designs and pitch view restaurants brought things nearer to life, as did the reassurance that Meis has worked on Madison Square Garden and the Staples Center, both iconic venues, and he justified well the reasons for the capacity of both as the arguments for our own suggested maximum to be what it will be.
We even had workbooks to make notes in; I suggested a statue of the Holy Trinity and two weeks later, plans were announced. It’s nice to be excited for the future, albeit with an air or trepidation, and another recent visit to the Old Lady brought with it some lovely feelings and moments when we were treated like royalty. Meeting celebrities again… the story of my life.
Yes, at last I was able to attend a game and thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to savour being so close to the action, and my heroes. Really appreciating the kind gestures which accompanied it, we made the most of the chance and will aim to do it as much as possible before we move closer to the Mersey.
May offers some potential for pain, excitement and yet more changes. Whatever happens, we need to remember that we are us and not them and that the good will out when there comes soft rains. In the words of Jarvis Cocker:
“Brothers, sisters, can’t you see? The future’s owned by you and me There won’t be fighting in the street They think they’ve got us beat, but revenge is going to be so sweet, oh-oh-oh”
If all else fails, I’ve got Marine (even though we lost the cup final 0-4) and anyway, I’ve started sponsoring a local under 17s team…
A lot of what the writers of the excellent series predicted has come true, particularly the ideas about technology and relationships – trying to ‘block’ people in real life, getting rated on your interactions – although some might say Ofsted were actually pre-emptive of Messrs Brooker and Co, years ago.
Of course, I can’t talk about Ofsted on social media, so I won’t say much more, other than that this month there have been some real highs in the day job and a couple of lows – plus ca change, some might say – but, as a friend so eloquently put recently, “I know you say you get fed up but it sounds genuinely rewarding” and yes, it really is.
Still, numbers and world book day and the power of reading aside, we had lots to do this month, from ‘non-stag’ dos to class worship, birthday parties to special evenings out based on The Trip; those three wonderful series featuring Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon which, over time, has become less about the food and more the narrative on the apparent personae the comedians / actors have taken on.
What a strange start to your monthly updates, you’re thinking. Well, here is where it all comes together, quite serendipitously.
Shortly after announcing his betrothal, my oldest friend, best man and all round good egg chaser decided that he was keen to re- enact the travels of those two for our own special evening to ‘bury his life as a boy’.
Naturally, we would record the event and I would write a review of the experience, giving it a rating, just as Ofsted themselves do. It matters a lot to the establishment – or teacher – and to those reading the review.
Going back half a dozen years, my own stag do had involved early morning beers in a Barcelona apartment and some art before feasting on a match at Camp Nou. I drank a lot, paid a lot for the privilege and and cheered out loud when I saw that the greatest footballer of my lifetime would be playing. That he – and another of the heroes of my era – both scored, made it all the more memorable.
This all meant that the pressure was on when I was given the task of finding somewhere suitable which did good vegan food and could accommodate two thirty somethings on a mutually agreeable weekend evening… Something as good as Messi and Iniesta would have to be pretty spectacular, that was for sure.
Thankfully, we found it.
As luck would have it, another friend called Jay was on a stag do in town the same day, and I threatened to wear the Everton shirt synonymous with the start of my friendship with Jay from the early nineties.
Obviously I didn’t, and will save it for my fortieth… so instead we whetted our appetite for the haute cuisine ahead with some rugby, debauchery and beer – non alcoholic for the non-drinker – and despite some hairy moments involving a golf club, getting called Gok Wan and ‘the fisherman from outside the Blue Star Chippy’, a good afternoon was had by all before we arrived at our destination.
Living so far apart, we don’t get much opportunity to chat deeply and meaningfully so we made the most of the chance to discuss marriage and parenthood. This allowed getting the serious stuff out of the way before we could concentrate on the important stuff: the menu d’excellence at The Art School Restaurant, Liverpool.
Now, I struck lucky with the internet trawling when I realised this fine dining establishment had such a good reputation for Vegan food and immediately booked in. Having been there once before with my wife, I knew it would be special, and had been looking forward to the meal for ages. Now we had arrived, we could relax, discuss memories of Jay’s life as a boy and reflect on the monumental changes our lives have gone through since we first met on our first day of year 7, twenty seven years ago.
Actually, we had met before then; on a football pitch at the Reebok Soccer 6s competition when I scored past Jay for my wonderfully named team ‘Green Graffiti’ and then on Christ Church field when our primary schools met… as we grew up, football played some part in our friendship but was overtaken by art, drinking, university, travels, the travails of love and work and modern life and not even Antipodean adventures affected our bond.
I remember house parties and near fights in Lancaster; sombreros in Durham; wine bars in London; injured animals in Brisbane and Big Dunc on my wedding day before two nights of the London art scene in 2012.
And lots more besides.
But this was again our time, our time surrounded by people on dates, a special occasion between two (pretty much lifelong) friends and even if people might have thought we too were on a date, I wanted us to make the most of it; we did. The service was truly wonderful, we talked at length about grown up stuff and then got to speak at length with the proprietor of this fantastic place.
Before we go into specific detail, it would be remiss of me to mention that I attended art school in Liverpool – not the same building, although friends frequented there and I think I attended a couple of shows at least – but the creative streak in us made it a serendipitous bonus that we should be spending our last night with him as a single man, in such apt surroundings.
Yes, that’s what I have in common with John Lennon, Stu Sutcliffe, David Gray – and, if false rumour were to be believed, Adolf Hitler – but more importantly, it’s the thousands of happy customers who must have been through the doors of Paul ‘Porky’ Askew’s establishment who matter more, given its recent reincarnation as a destination of fine dining.
I’ve been reading lots of Grace Dent recently and although I don’t like her very much – it’s not a Lancastrian / Cumbrian thing, I just don’t like the cut of her jib – I do admire her writing, and I think she would approve of The Art School because it’s friendly formal with fantastic taste.
Those values shone through from the first moment we arrived. Jay being vegan, they catered perfectly for him, and I struggled to decide what I wanted but was more bothered about the wine pairing, which thankfully the sommeliers made easier by pairing perfectly and then offering a panacean escape opportunity of a course, which I’m seriously considering as a way out.
Still, we need to at least explain the food if this is a restaurant review, and despite it being top notch in every way, I feel I need to justify the price tag with enough detail to show quite why it was the equal of 603-goals-and-counting Messi et al.
The amuses-bouches were delightful, with champagne to boot, then a starter of pigeon and foie gras which – as a Morrissey devotee, I shouldn’t enjoy, but do – was simply lovely. It was accompanied by a delightful New Zealand wine called Pansy.
Then, after serious deliberation, I opted for the duck, and I’m glad I did because the pinkest slab of bird arrived and my guilt for my dining partner dissipated with the melting heart I felt after seeing the beautiful presentation of my main. Again, the wine matching was perfect: a Croatian red by the name of Matosevic, which sounds a bit like a football player too.
Alas, the dessert: a refreshing option to cleanse the palate after all this decadence and the Sicilian lemon and orange tart transported me to one of the few places in Europe I’m still desperate to visit. The meringue was a particular standout, and ended the evening perfectly. It came with a wondrous wine: Txakoli, from the Basque region I fell in love with a couple of years ago.
The bill came and we played the Henry Kelly guessing game so loved by Messrs Brydon and Coogan on the show. At this point, I realised that Jay had been recording the whole conversation for posterity! I must have spoken some drivel over the evening, and would love the chance to listen again to the three hours we spent at that table. Of course – as the gents always do on the dating programmes – I paid. After such an incredible evening, however, the price was unimportant.
I’d been saving up for it, and Jay deserved it, especially after all he has done for us.
There was an unfortunate incident involving my taking a selfie with an asleep diner on the next table, mind:
There was still time to discuss the restaurant’s sommelier course with our servers – who made excellent choices, I hasten to add – and I was encouraged to enquire about their sommelier course.
I have to say, I’m seriously considering it.
I also purchased the incredibly attractive Onwards and Upwards book by chef, Paul Askew. I’ve admired his approach for years, and food on a couple of occasions, and was so pleased to see him in the kitchen. I was elated when he signed the book with a lovely, heartfelt message. I was overjoyed when he appeared at our table, and shook my hand for what felt like an eternity whilst I explained our strange situation.
I thanked and congratulated him for what he has thus far achieved in the city; reading the book since has given me an even greater insight. He’s a great guy, it’s a great place and I urge anyone with an appetite and love of fine dining to attend.
Vegan or not…
It was the perfect destination for the equivalent of a night at the Nou Camp, too, with Askew the Messi, pulling the strings from the pass, and our sommelier the Iniesta (the ‘Solutions’ girl) with the whole team giving us two excitable young men – embarking upon a new chapter in our lives with exuberance and enjoyment – another, very different, experience we will never forget.
Alas, we missed the last train home and the kids were up at 6am the next day, but it didn’t matter.
It was Mes que un Meal – Mes que un Stag – and we wish Jay, and all the grooms about to begin married life, all the very best.
