Stomachs on legs are proud to present

Strolled past this the other day.


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The village pet store and charcoal grill

I wish one of us had had a proper camera that night at Brauhaus Putz. I love how my colleague Wulf looks like a weather-beaten politico who just spent 23 hours in the war room, and is now enjoying a well deserved fag with some raw mince.

Maybe some Republicans think Germany is full of people like this: who wear Obama t-shirts and smoke Players P&S while eating raw mince & onion on crisp white buns.

On the subject of smoking & eating, I was just reading an article from February last year about the latent smoking ban in Germany. It quotes Claudia Picht, whose organic café Metzgerei Schmitz was an extreme anomaly last year with its self-imposed smoking ban. She was quoted as saying "I don't see the non-smoking principle of my café as a prohibition, but as a special offer to those people who want some fresh air." Aw.
"They keep telling the barkeepers that a smoking ban would decrease their rates. I think people have to be very courageous to say: 'I will do it anyway! I will turn my bar into a non-smoking place.' And then they find out that drinking coffee can also be wonderful without a cigarette!'"

Meanwhile the old guard of non-organic sausage-loving Germans is represented by Meinolf Saure, the owner of the monolithic Brauhaus Früh. He is quoted as saying "I cannot support a general ban, for a bar without smoke would be nothing." But he admits that he is also happy about the non-smoking areas. "We have established them on every level of our bar and they are a huge success."

The jury is still out on whether eating a raw mince mettwurst brötchen without a cigarette can also be wonderful.

Ironically, my workmate Wulf took up smoking again when he was in North America. The smoking ban in Toronto meant that people would go outside for a chat and a fag, and since he is so tall he found this an easier way to converse than trying to shout down at people in the noisy club.

As New Years approached last year, I was less excited about clinking glasses of 'sekt' bubbly than I was about the promised moratorium on smoking, about to be introduced in clubs. Most eating and drinking venues in Germany are not air-conditioned. The ban felt long overdue - other European countries with a strong penchant for smoking had banned it in public spaces, what felt like ages ago (Italy, Ireland, England, even France). Not without protest. A Parisian cafe-owner, Olivier Colombe, was quoted in the Independant last December as saying "Long dinners with several bottles of wine and lots of discussion are going to be difficult".
It sounds like he needs to sit down for a delicious cup of coffee with the über-upbeat Claudia Picht.

Just before New Years, the governors of North Rhein Westphalia decided that they would push the start of the ban back so that the fine Kölle folk could smoke it up during the traditional carnival season. Then, when I thought the ban would finally trudge into effect on July 1st, a loop-hole was discovered to allow smaller venues who don't have room for a 'non-smoking' area to become members' smoking clubs.

The Federal Constitutional Court ruled on July 30th in favour of plaintiffs who said the constitutional rights to property and to exercise one’s profession were at stake, easing smoking bans for at least 60,000 one-room establishments. It's a convenient loop hole that has been jumped on enthusiastically by all the local discotheques (which are, by the way, not necessarily all that small).

The Economist wrote on the 24th of July that "The German Hotel and Restaurant Association says smoking bans have cost small bars and restaurants 30% of their revenues. That shakes a pillar of social life: the Stammtisch, a regulars’ table at the corner bar where fellowship is forged. If people cannot smoke at Köpi, says its bartender, “we would lose our regulars”.

Anti-smoking campaigners have long found Germany a hard case. Last year the Swiss Cancer League ranked the tobacco-fighting zeal of 30 European countries, and placed Germany 27th. The new smoking bans might improve its ranking, but they are riddled with 130 exemptions, complains Martina Pötschke-Langer, of the German Cancer Research Centre."

130 exemptions is quite an achievement in my opinion. That's something worth bragging about. I'm amazed at the number of loopholes that the normally fastidious Germans have allowed to permeate this veritable legislative sieve. And 'strict' is clearly a matter of interpretation.

Five days ago, bloomberg.com published the following confusing news item. The court begins by upholding the law with no members' club exceptions in straight-laced Bavaria, but then sidles around it by claiming that smoking in beer tents (which also serve a number of Bavarian food delicacies) can be allowed until the end of the year because it is of a temporary nature.

"The Bavarian law is in line with a July 30 ruling that permits smoking bans as long as they don't allow for exceptions, the Karlsruhe-based Constitutional Court said today. Allowing smoking in beer tents until the end of this year doesn't breach rules because the exemption is of a temporary nature, it said. The Bavarian state law, one of the strictest in Germany, doesn't apply to clubs with a restricted membership because they aren't open to the public."

Say whut? Isn't saying something is allowed simply because it's temporary, the very definition of an exception?

Bavaria, sorry mate, I don't think you are as strict as you are cracked up to be.

Most people I've asked still don't think the tobacco lobby is especially strong here: they think all this poking loop-holes in the fabric of the law is down to the strength of the German Hotel and Restaurant Association (DEHOGA). The DEHOGA insists that as long as the consumption of tobacco is not generally forbidden it should remain a personal decision whether or not to smoke in a bar.

But some, like Claudia Picht, are pretty sure the tobacco lobby is meeting up with the DEHOGA in some war rooms of their own.

The Economist commented that it is hard to prove, although cigarette ladies are a fixture at political parties’ conventions. "Germany has conducted no large-scale campaign on the dangers of passive smoking, says Dr Pötschke-Langer. Despite boosting taxes recently, cigarettes are still cheaper than in Britain and Ireland. The share of the adult population that smokes has dropped from more than half in 1950 to around a third, but smoking rates remain among the highest in Europe."

The client from my Sabbath Day ladypose invited me out to dinner. I should have bù huì'd, but I said OK and ended up confronted with an all-pig Szechuan hotpot.
As I rooted around in the hotpot with the ladle, hoping to find some small intestine submerged in the depths, I heard the massive sound of a needle scratching off a record. Hoping to find small intestine? Yeah, small intestine: doubt me if you want, but I have lately discovered that it is a fucking delectable part of a pig. Texture of liver with no hideous fat or gummy bits wobbling on it as on pig muscle. Alas, this particular 'pot contained naught but vile cubes of congealed blood and rubbery ciliated large intestine. Chinese people, I know you love a bit of blood in your breakfast congee, or any time really, but I just can't get down with it. At dinner, I swallowed a single jiggling clot, a postage stamp-sized scrap of tripe, then filled up on cabbage and kept my hands busy by chopsticking black peppercorns into my mouth one by one.

OK, so I thought I was going to take a day or two's break from the burning digestive issues of Gut Feelings, but then, ya know. As it happens, this week, inspired by Coco, I decided to start a music blog, and just now I was browsing around to see if there were any other worthwhile music blogs that I should link to.

So I was surfing through the links provided by the New Yorker's music blogger Sasha FrereJones, as you do, and I clicked through randomly to Elyse Sewell.

Who the hell is Elyse Sewell? You might ask. (As did I).

It turns out she is a model. (Whoop de do, I hear you reply. Well, stick with me). This girl is not only a model, but a model who appeared on the first season of America's Next Top Model. And apparently there is a fan site dedicated to her. This is remarkable because I am surprised that any ANTM graduate has a fan site, let alone from Season 1 - who can remember back that far?
(I'm getting to the food-related point, I promise).

Most of all, I am surprised to find that this girl's blog actually kicks ass! A blog that doesn't make me want to crush my head with my keypad is rare, but written by a model?? Who has been on an American reality show??

Life is too weird sometimes.

Anyway, Elyse seems to be a fan of food, from spicy to hormonal and gelatinous (no ominivorous dilemmas, sic, for her), from asparagus juice to squid ink meatballs and frozen candied plums. She makes Fuschia Dunlop seem like Eliza Doolittle.

She is somewhat linguistically inspired, writing that she wants to "elevate the status of "conversate" from a Biggie-perpetrated malaprop to a legitimate member of the lexicon".

And her caption for the photo below:
"I burned my finger poking this aperture. I burned my head trying to climb through it into Narnia."

Go Elyse. I still don't really understand who you are, but I like your writing. A lot.

Anyone who follows food writer Jeffrey Steingarten's columns in American Vogue will have often remarked on how odd it is to be reading about his cheese fondue experiments in a magazine that is a pillar of an industry that (whether consciously or not) by promulgating certain body types, implies a much less voluptuous version of what and how much we should be eating.

Last year the New Yorker magazine noted on its website "how bizarre it is that the dean of American food writers should be publishing his scientific food forays amid images of Caroline Trentini jumping in Prada and furs", for a piece about burger science and Heston Blumenthal. (see picture above).

The sometimes gothic or even horrific relationship between fashion and food was highlighted again this week when France's lower house of parliament adopted a measure that makes it illegal to "incite extreme thinness." The law will apply across all media, including magazines, websites and advertising.

The law was supposedly in part a reaction to the recent death of a Brazilian model of anorexia - and by all accounts is largely aimed at the extremely disturbing trend of 'pro ana mia' websites. Ana and Mia are shorthand for anorexia and bulimia respectively. The French Federation of Couture responded defensively, deriding a law that would allow the goverment to decide 'who is skinny and who is not'.

When it comes to the eating disorder websites, health experts say a crackdown will be hard to enforce as well as not necessarily having much effect on preventing the eating disorders.

So, having read this, I naturally went to one of those websites out of curiosity. Blech.... of course, it was disturbing, to say the least. The hints for distraction, deception and purging, were just too pitiful to be repeated here, involving talk of stomach-acid bursts, pretending to be vegetarian, and mind-controlling mechanisms involving food and repulsive visual stimuli.

In general I think mental illness as a whole deserves more sympathy and understanding from society - but these types of eating disorders are somehow much harder to feel sympathetic towards. At once deeply narcissistic and nihilistic: they are a scary reminder of how twisted the human mind can become...


So Coco Chanel isn't directly responsible for eating disorders that are far more complicated than simply feeling guilty for having eaten one too many strawberry-lavendar muffins or a boxful of chocolate eclairs from Laduree in Paris.

But I guess we all know women who never eat a full meal: who often have nothing to eat all day except for one slice of cake and one piece of toast, and temper their moodswings with anti-depressants, cups of tea and/or shopping on their credit card. Or boys who complained when you ate your whole plate full, because they are used to girls who left half their portion for them to consume? And what of Karl Lagerfeld, who reportedly stays trim by simply chewing things up and spitting them out?

Whether you think predigestive regurgitation is sexy or not. The relationship between fashion and food is pretty fucked up.

Girls, will you please just eat your granola?

Or even turn all those obsessive-compulsive controlling impulses into something useful like creating your own sourdough starters from the natural yeasts that hide on freshly milled flour?

Basically, just behave more like Jeffrey Steingarten. As if he was on a south beach diet.

Above: one of the slightly less narcissistic photos of Ani Phyo.

Here's a confession: the experience at Zerwirk in the post below was not my first encounter with raw food.

There's something entertaining about eating food like 'ketchup' that comes in inverted commas, although I'm not such a fan of the crazy letters, used to label items like Mylk or Cheeze.

As far as I know there's no scientific basis for any of this stuff - studies I've seen on for instance the healthfulness of garlic referring to its use in traditional diets cite its effectiveness both cooked and raw.
Still, I'm of the opinion that any recipes that help me to consume more vegetables are probably good (especially thinking back on that Guardian article about how fruits are almost devoid of nutrition).
And desserts that are made from nuts, seeds and fruit are probably a good distraction from unhealthier stuff too. No matter how much I might try to deny it to myself, I do like to snack on sweetish things every now & then.

I don't like to buy into a hippy lifestyle though, which is why it was nice to see the weird world of rawfood presented along with designer chairs and German coolness at Zerwirk/Saf -

But in most instances you'll find this oeuvre is more likely to packaged a la the slightly insane hyper-hippie narcissistic Portland version in the cookbook 'Ani's Rawfood Kitchen' which I bought in Toronto out of curiosity and to expand my salad repertoire.

The book is filled with pictures of Ani on the beach, wearing sunglasses, drinking from Thai baby coconuts etc.

So far I've tried a few things from this cookbook: the raw Asian greens salad is excellent (bok choi is really nice & juicy, and good with the sesame seeds, avocado, basil leaves etc). The raw pumpkin pie was...interesting... and made a good & strangely salty/crunchy sweet snack for quite a few days from its safe haven in the fridge. The raw 'ketchup' made from pureed sun dried tomatoes & a fresh tomato, a few dates, garlic and lots of olive oil was very good too, again nothing like ketchup, but excellent with grilled chicken (oops...bending the rules a bit there..!)

Sometimes recently at home, if Erik is making rice, I'll make 'rice' instead: made from processed pieces of raw butternut squash, pounded walnuts, coriander & cumin powder, seasalt and dried cranberries. This obviously doesn't taste anything like rice but makes a tasty, crunchy, soapy-tasting vehicle for moist foods like a miso-vege saute or a japanese curry.

The only failure has been these coconut 'breakfast cakes' made from ground flax seeds and coconut oil, served with 'butter' made from coconut oil and white miso..... this combo - although the saltiness and richness was interesting and the 'butter' was sort of buttery at least upon every second mouthful - the rich saltinesss made my stomach curdle a bit and it was too crumbly to give an illusion of anything close to a pancake.

I was surprised to read at the link here that Ani is not a 100% raw fanatic, and will dabble in soup or tofu (shock!). But this increased my respect for her, since in the cookbook she sure does some across as a fanatic. For example Ani's poor ridgeback dog named Kanga is fed only on pureed seeds and was taught to bite down on tomatoes, though i'd bet she probably catches and eats rats and small cats when Ani is not looking.




Here is Ani demonstrating (in a Keanu-tinged accent) how to make 'American apple pie': the most 'deliciousest' pie for, like, moms and children! As you'll see, she represents a pretty different face to raw food than the more sophisticated techno-endorsed Chad at Zerwirk. Still, in the end, most of her recipes are actually tasty, and always interesting to try out.



Here is an easy recipe for 'lemon pudding' from Ani, which I make quite often as a high-fat but low-guilt dessert. I add a lot more lemon juice than she suggests.

Lemon Pudding
Adapted from Ani's Raw Food Kitchen
Serves one.

Half cup of almonds (ideally soaked overnight to activate enzymes, then rinsed thoroughly and refridgerated until needed)
1/2 cup water
Juice of one lemon
3-4 fresh dates chopped
Optional: 1/2 tbsp psyllium powder (I've never used this thickening fibre powder but it could be a good addition)

Blend until smooth. (You may need to double the recipe or add a touch more water to blend properly without it all going up the sides of the container).

Serve on its own or with chopped fresh or dehydrated fruit. (apparently dehydrated still equates to raw...go figure)

I just had some with preserved organic sour cherries from a jar, and a sprinkling of dehydrated germinated golden spelt (dinkel) which added a nice crunch.

I know...........I'm a creep.

Guess that ingredient?

As a pre-Xmas celebration, Hock took me to my favourite Japanese restaurant in Bangkok, the other night. Tensui. I've written about it before here. 

The reason I like Tensui is that you can get rare Japanese delicacies that are normally unavailable for ordinary gaijin customers. Many a time have I tried to make it into one of those secret Japanese ONLY restaurants only to be met by the proprietor at the door with the crossed finger sign



See Japanese Gesticulations


This basically means

"Fuck off you filthy gaijin scum"

So I'm usually relegated to bog standard Japanese food for the masses. Tempura, sushi rolls, udon etc...yawn.

But not at Tensui. They have a Japanese and English written menu. Offering up such delicacies as Sea Slug liver in raw egg, whale meat (no I haven't tried it) and firefly squid marinated in ponzu. 

We ordered the firefly squid the other day. For some reason I assumed they would be grilled. How wrong I was. Out of the kitchen popped a small bowl filled with four raw, black tiny octupuses, bulbous head, eyes and tentacles in tact. They looked like raw baby alien foetuses.

I forgot to take a photo, but this should give you the idea



I closed my eyes and put one in my mouth. 

It tasted good. There was an explosion of seafood, soysauce and ponzu in my mouth.

I tried not to think of the little eyes. 

Hock said he liked them. 

I tried not to think of the little eyes. 

I try not to think of the little eyes.