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Fabada Asturiana

Fabada Asturiana is a rich rustic dish from northern Spain. It lends itself to cold, crisp Autumnal evenings when the nights draw in and you want to be comforted by something warm and hearty. As much as I wholeheartedly wish I could be there with you to share this loving meal, I give you my own recipe for you to make. Serve piping hot, with fresh, warm ripped up rustic bread.

Raise a glass of good red wine to me!

Con mucho gusto! Mi carinio!

Ingredients:

Serves up to six people.

1 tin of Butter Beans (faves) in water

11/2 lbs of cubed Pork or Belly Pork

Cubed Pancetta or chopped Smoked Bacon

1lb of Chorizos (sliced into disks)

6oz Morcilla or Black Pudding

2 tablespoons of Olive oil

Fresh Garlic

Onion

Saffron

Salt/Black Pepper

1 Bay Leaf

Chopped fresh Parsley

1 glass of Red Wine (Rest of the bottle to drink!)

Method.

Take a heavy bottomed pan and heat the Olive Oil. Turn over chopped onion and chopped garlic until transparent.

Add the cubed pork, pancetta and sliced chorizos and sizzle gently until golden.

Add the Morcilla or sliced Black Pudding.

Splash in the wine and some stock or water. Just enough to barely cover an inch over the meat..not too much now!

Now the bay leaf, pepper and a tiny pinch of salt. (I use Maldon Sea Salt.)

If using fresh saffron, use only a pinch warmed up in a drop of warm water, to release the colour and flavour.

Simmer gently on a slow heat for for 2 to 3 hours (Or in a slow cooker.)

About 7 minutes before the end of cooking, take out the bay leaf and add the cooked, drained

Butter Beans to the stew.

Serve in a large bowl at the table. Sprinkle with chopped, fresh parsley.

Don't forget your rustic, fresh bread ripped up...and last, but not least... a glass of WINE!

The Legacy of Guernica

“Sleep rosebush, The horse begins to cry. His hooves are injured, his mane is frozen, and in his eyes are silver daggers. His eyes lower to the river.Oh, how they lower to the river. Blood flows much stronger than water.” “Blood Wedding”(Bodas de Sangre) by Frederico Garcia Lorca (1932)

This week has been one of coincidences and conflict for Kitty, darling reader. Let me tell you of the meanderings of my mind.
I took myself off into Durham City, in a heightened state of thought and reflection. I decided to buy myself a novel and take it to my favourite coffee shop, Vennels. Over a cup of espresso, I flicked through my impulsive purchase “Guernica” by Dave Boling. Little did I know that at that same moment in time the Basque separatists, ETA, were to kill two Civil Guard officers in the resort town of Palmanove on the island of Majorca. The car bomb attacks coincided with ETA’s 50th anniversary of it’s founding. The terrorist’s attack was condemned by the Spanish Prime Minister Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero. In March 2006, Zapatero entered into peace talks with ETA, but with the bomb attack on Madrid airport in early 2007, ETA withdrew it’s ceasefire.
So, why the link to Guernica?
In the Spanish civil war, under the advances of the Nationalists under Generalissimo Franco, Guernica stood in the way of advancement against the Republicans. The Basque town of Guernica suffered an aerial attack by planes of the German Luftwaffe “Condor Legion”(April 26, 1937)...in support of Franco. The widespread death and devastation of this terror attack is a legacy which lives on today. 1,654 were reported killed by the Basque government. The Basque country has a language which is unlike any other European language, a culture that belongs to neither Spain nor France. But it’s independence was removed from it, and never given back.
In 1959 ETA Euskadi Ta Askatasuna (Basque Homeland and Freedom) was formed as a paramilitary group, with it’s goal under Marxist-Leninist theories to gain independence for the Basque Country.
ETA has been responsible of numerous murders, assassinations and bombings. And this week, they claimed the lives of two Civil Guard Officers in Majorca, causing wide spread terror and chaos. Internal securities were already heightened due to La Reina Sophia, Queen of Spain visiting the Island. This was still not enough to prevent the tragedy.
Guernica (Pictured above) is the painting by Pablo Picasso (1937) this painting was the symbolic answer Picasso had to the bombing of Guernica. It is an anti-war protest and an eternal reminder of the tragedies of war. I now believe it reflects both sides, as through tragedy, terror has grown and this is significant to this very day. Indeed a timely reminder of both sides of conflict. The symbolic status of the Spanish bull, the horse falling in agony, the dead soldier with stigma on his palms, the sword with flowers, the dove of peace in fear, the mother holding up her lifeless child...This has come to represent both sides, in my opinion, to the present from the past. The legacy of Guernica.

Further Reading
Guernica Dave Boling 2008
Winter in Madrid C J Sansom 2006
The Battle for Spain Antony Beevor 2006
Blood Wedding Lorca

Friendship and Love

Happiness is like a butterfly;
The more you chase it,
The more it will elude you,
But if you turn your attention
To other things, it will
Come and sit softly
On your shoulder...

(Thoreau.)

Friendship and love.
Forgive me dear reader, for this week Kitty is in a reflective mood. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune have been battering the hell out of me. So, I turn my attention to the more positive side of life and therefore reflect on the important things in life...friendship and love.
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross (1926 -2004) reflected...
“People are like stained glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within.”
I think the light from within is illuminated by love and friendship from others.
Consider if you will these concepts...

Unconditional love
This is the type of love that exists for someone regardless of one’s actions and beliefs. It is something that shows no boundaries. It is the feeling of love for someone without the need of being rewarded. (Professor Mario Beauregard.) To love someone unconditionally is to love someone regardless of one’s actions or beliefs...no matter what they do, you still love them. An example being parents love for a child...they may have tipped undiluted Ribena on your cream carpet...you feel mad, but when you see those big tear-filled eyes your heart melts. That’s unconditional. You still have to correct the behaviour, guide and educate. You cannot measure this love, it is given to another without asking anything in return...you can’t help it, it just is. Agape love as Greek philosophy would describe.

Conditional love
In contrast conditional love needs a finite exchange, it requires dedication and commitment on both sides...It’s a two way street. Both must feel the same way. It is a constant process, to be never taken for granted. Eros is the type of love that is romantic and passionate and intimacy. Whereas friendship 'philia' is a desire for psychological identification (Badhwar 2006) To care for someone you love is to protect them, give them a safe place to hide when they need comfort. It is a bond of trust..Yet self disclosure makes you vulnerable...confidentiality is given without regard to one’s self and ego. Both these types of love require intimacy.
And in quiet times I think about all the people that I love and have loved. And the ones that I love more in my life. In all of it’s different forms, with joy and sorrow, we must experience it all...
I wish you love, friendship and happiness.
K x

The Nurse

ACT I
Scene 1
The Nurse

The scene is set in a treatment room. There is a medical couch with a curtain around it, which is drawn back. The nurse sits next to it in a swivel chair. She faces directly the audience.

The Nurse
This is our consultation. You have a ten minute appointment slot. Can you tell me everything in that time?

Do you remember me? You saw my eyes look at you above my surgical mask. They were an intense blue, the same colour as my theatre blue scrubs. You closed your eyes tightly as you lay on the theatre trolley, cold and prone. I held your hand, you dug your nails into me and I didn't flinch. I told you that I wouldn't leave your side and that I would be there with you when you woke up. I attached you to the monitors of the anaesthetic machine, your heart rhythm raced with anxiety, as I talked to you calmly it slowed to sinus beat.I repeated to you that I wouldn't leave you over,and over again. Your hand relaxed as the mask was placed over your face and you drifted into the sevoflurane gas.I had checked the anaesthetic machine, I had drawn up the I.V drugs for the induction, I had set the trolley and handed the consultant everything he needed...exactly, perfectly, scientifically and artfully. I was there when you woke up, still holding your hand. Do you remember my eyes looking over the surgical mask?

The nurse stands up and walks towards the couch.

THE NURSE
Do you hear my footsteps in the hospital corridor? I walk with an air of authority, fast short strides. I walk with a purpose. My dark navy uniform, my lace-up shoes, my fob watch, my nursing union badge, my I.D tag, the alcohol gel attached to my belt,my pens and scissors...do you see me?

I came to see you when you were sleeping on the ward. It was night, and dark. You were curled up on the hard bed, wrapped in the standard issue blanket, N.H.S pillow. You didn't know that I missed my break, and that I should have been home two hours ago? I'm doing this because I care, and we are short staffed. I don't wake you, you don't see my pen torch as I check your pupil reactions to light. I Calibrate the machines controlling your pain relief. I write in your charts. You can't hear me move about softly, plastic apron rustling. My gloved hands touching your wrist, checking your pulse.

THE NURSE
You remembered my eyes, you remembered me. You handed me a card on your discharge day. It said simply "Thank-you!" You had written my name. The baby that was born to you that night...you named her after me.

Light fades to black.

Angel?

I took a detour last weekend to visit the sculpture The Angel of The North. Created by Anthony Gormley (occasionally Gormless). As I live only a few moments drive away, the need has never arisen until now to visit this huge erection...until now. Having driven past it every day for over a decade, I decided it was time to view the old dear from a different angle. Anthony was quite hard to please when it came to choosing the spot on which this great icon would stand. He said: “That mound was the reason I accepted the invitation. Because I was quite snooty at the time. I said I don’t like motorway art”. Well, having looked at it a least twice a day for the last ten years from the motorway...I think that’s a bit of a bummer, like.
I remember the day when there was nearly an RTA whilst driving past. People were rubber-necking to see the funniest sight standing on Anthony’s mound. For there clad in a gigantic Alan Shearer no. 9 shirt was our very own Angel. That was in the 1998 FA cup final, when Alan was captain of Newcastle United. Over a decade later, perhaps a for sale sign needs hoisting up on it “For Sale...one Football Club...£100,000,000...ono, one previous owner, hardly used.” Oh! The pathos!
So, as I digress, I was saying how I felt the “urge” to view this 66 foot Messenger of Gormless close up. I needed to view this beast from a different angle...I’m always one to see things from a different point of view. I mean it was nothing to do with the fact that I saw a documentary on how it was made, and the only thing that stuck in my mind was that Our Ant had sculpted the Angel on himself. Ergo...every time I drive past The Angel Of The North...I see Anthony Gormley’s arse? Oh! The Irony!
I have a special place in my heart for my Angel. It is an icon and a beacon of hope to us Geordie folk. When I am coming back from the airport, having been abroad (i.e.: London), I feel my soul sing “I’m home”. For as Anthony Gormley indeed said himself...”It’s very, very much to do with the character of the North East, the fact that people are warm- hearted, open-minded, practical, get on with things..” Well. I divven’t Knaa aboot that, like!

Going the journey.

A play in one scene.

The scene takes place on a Northern bus en route in County Durham.( Some Durham Dialect is used. Translation is available upon request.)

Cast
Kitty. (No description required.)
Old lady #1 Annie. (A large lady with a blue rinse.)
Old lady #2 Flo. (A thin lady with a knitted hat.)

Scene 1
Kitty is seated at the front of the bus. Behind her sit the two old ladies. Kitty is looking out of the window.
Kitty thinks to herself (voice over) “If I was to take a swab of this seat and hand rail, I wonder what bacteria would show up in the lab.?” She takes the alcohol hand gel out of her handbag. She scrubs her hands in the same way a surgeon would.

Old lady #1 Annie.
“I say, Flo?”

Old lady #2 Flo
“Aye, hinney?.”

Old lady #1 Annie
“How’s your Eddie doin’? Last time I saw you he wasn’t all that canny, was he?”

Old lady #2 Flo
“ Nah! Eee, pet, he hasn’t been all that clever since he had that operation. He’s never been reet since. It’s his hips y’knaa? He had a hip joint seen to in January. They said he’d never walk reet again?”

Old lady #1 Annie
“ He’s never had much luck, poor lad!”

Old lady #2 Flo
“ Nah! Well, he has that diabetes an’ all. He can’t see because of it, it made him gan blind.Too much of that sugar! I put him on a diet, but he’s so fussy, he wouldn’t eat it. I said to him..C’mon love, you’ve gotta try. He just refused.”

(Kitty settles back into her seat. She is listening intently to the conversation behind her. Her head is tilted slightly to one side, so she can hear better.)

Old lady #1 Annie
“ Never! How is he now?”

Old lady #2 Flo
“ Well, he’s had trouble with his...Y’knaa..his...water-works. His plumbing isn’t what it was, put it that way. He get’s ever so embarrassed aboot it, like. He can’t help it. He can’t make it up the stairs at night either. I tried to help him up, like, but it was too much for him in the end. He’s taken to sleeping on the couch in the living room.”

(Kitty feels a pang of sympathy for Old lady #2 Flo...and thinks...”I wonder if I should offer some advice from a medical point of view, poor love needs some extra help. I wonder if there is someone that she can be referred on to.”)

Old lady # 1 Annie
“ Eeh! Flo! That’s terrible! He’s gone doon hill that fast. Mind you, they say that a creaking gate hangs on the longest!”

Old lady #2 Flo
“Knaa ,hinney! It’s not lookin’ so good for him, like.”

Old lady #1 Annie
“Eeh! Pet! Whatcha ganna dee, like?”

Old lady #2 Flo
“I’m thinkin’ of helping him out of his pain..if y’knaa what I mean...”

Old lady #1 Annie
“Never in the world! It’s come to that, like has it? It’s that bad?”

Old lady #2 Flo
“ Aye...I’m takin’ him to the Vets the morrow, he’s gettin’ put to sleep...after all, he is 14!”

(Kitty thinks...Stuff the germs!...and presses the bell...”Next stop please!”)