Slippery trends

A conversation this morning caused me to ponder many things - the nature of fashions and their slippery little ways mainly. Meandering around the topic of famous cooks, my companion observed that we had moved on from the age of 'scary' (her words) cooks like Delia, Mary Berry and the U.S. version, Julia Child, and were now in the age of 'simpering' cooks in the (rose jelly?)mould of Nigella Lawson and Sophie Dahl. It is a fair comment, and makes one wonder how this echoes the times and fashions in which it has become evident. The most obvious and unexpected development in fashion over the last ten years or so has been the ascent of grooming and styling as an all important element of fashion. Sure, there has always been make-up, hair and treatments, but the ubiquity of the over-styled plastic people is surely a product of the 'noughties'. This is a trend that personally makes me feel on the queasy side at best, and at worst it rumbles the very fabric of my world; the horror of spending hundreds on self-adornment is just so alien and wrong it verges on the obscene. Tell me, can you look at Victoria Beckham any more and see a human being? I think not.

The parallel is surely obvious; style over content has become the norm in the food world as well; so long as the cupcake/herb risotto looks as beautiful as its creator and is eaten in a suitably idyllic surround, then all is well in the world.

Food is a funny one anyway; in the same way as fashion is essentially cyclical, with additions due to technology and circumstance, food has become a bit of a stuck record. We discovered the world; first Europe, then the Far East, Middle East, Africa, South America, then we 'did' fusion, the melting pot of the world cuisine, and then...ummm... We have to start at the first verse again.

I am in danger of getting on a rant, but this year of frugality has been positively enjoyable so far; the thought of not paying seventy odd quid for a haircut, repeatedly, for twelve months is simply a joy. Finding ways around things is fun, no doubt about it, and there is much satisfaction to be had from bucking the trend to pander to and pamper the ego as a fun leisure activity.

Anyway, had another dream as predicted; this time a virtual re-run of the night before but with no sinister overtones; the musical was taking place but I was rehearsed and relaxed. No nudity was involved and my buddy was my buddy again. Truly weird, and no, I have never seen an episode of 'Glee' (although I know it exists and the basic facts about it) so my sudden interest in amateur dramatics can't be pinned to this.

Could it possibly be performance anxiety for my 'live' painting stint next month; I have only done this once before and that was when I learned the true meaning of fear; neurosis is my middle name and no amount of self-help wallpapering will camouflage this fact! (Or 'self-wallpapering'; now there's a painting!)

The Moussange was delicious; its constituents were beef mince, cooked off with onions and bean mix (broad, soya, green), layered with sweet potato and spinach, with ground cumin, cumin seeds and a little dried chilli. This was baked in a square ceramic dish and served with the rest of the salad we had leftover from some other night. I am just such a fan of sweet potatoes and they give me a little sugar kick without resorting to pudding; maybe a strangely comfort food choice for a very lovely day, but it hit the spot. And importantly, no cheese.