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My romance with wet bread begins to founder first with alheira molhada, a poultry-centred sausage rendered a sludge leaning against slices of fresh orange, and then with Bolacha Maria cake with butter cream and coffee. Miles better — and something I want to run home to try to make — is olive oil pao de lo, featherweight freeform sponge cake mixture baked but left sloppy in the middle in a cradle of parchment.
Portuguese wines are a bit of a closed book to me — staff are terrifically helpful — but that holiday feeling engendered by formidable foreign food, tables outside in the covered market and what is probably by now the arrival of an outdoor grill from the London Log Company can run smoothly and vibrantly on Clip do Monte da Vaia 2014 Vinho Verde at £24.
I'm always open to trades (VHS and DVD)--but if you have nothing to trade, email me anyway (pgsaur at frontier dot com OR hugo1000faces at gmail dot com) if you are interested in anything here! Most people skip through the commercials, or flip around channels to avoid them. add: LOTS more now (this posting was post-dated for higher placement)...
Except the ones I can't fucking stand, such as any spot with singing children.
They make fascinating time caplets which reveal not only how Americans of a particular era were marketed to, but how that marketing was done in its time, with technical effects and styles of storytelling clearly evolving.
Actually, speaking of evolution, it's funny--there seems to be quite a bit of zaniness on display in the older black-and-white ads of my collection, with inventive special effects and playful narratives.
I watch them repeatedly, with fascination and affection.
I went through my various lists for my collection last night, and I'd now estimate I have about 13,000 commercials at this point, plus numerous old show openings, closing credits and "brought-to-you-by" segments.] Commercials are designed to sell, and therefore appeal.
Welcome home, Nuno.107b Commercial Street, E1 (020 7375 0649, uk).
Here are some listings of my seventies and eighties commercial compilations culled from the thousands in my collection. Especially, you may argue, the ones that are the focus of my collection: the mostly-forgotten celluloid snippets of shameless crap-peddling that have been scraped from that . (Maybe that Oscar Mayer kid gets a pass, but .) I'd estimate that I have between three and four thousand commercials in my collection, mainly seventies through about 1986 (with some 50's and 60's in there, and even some early 90's--not my nostalgia spot, but interesting and fun to watch nonetheless).
Menu and drinks lists, three narrow sheets held together by a primitive copper safety pin that can hang from the marble tabletops, cocoon an idealised land where cooks don’t open tins, they use tins as a take on sous-vide, egg yolks transmute into bars of gold, wet bread achieves iconic status — mark my words, I said to my chum, damp crumbs are the next huge thing — vegetables tangle with fruit which encounters its blossom, cuttlefish is venerated, cod talks its tripe and the cured meat of Alentejano black pigs celebrates the Phoenicians bringing them to the Iberian peninsula in 1000BC to interbreed with indigenous wild boar.
Nearly all items are so unlike anything I have encountered in Portugal that I attempt with the help of three friends over two occasions to eat most of the list including dishes of the day.
As Ed Smith — the estimable blogger going under the name of Rocket & Squash — who is at the first lunch concludes in his online write-up, “Portugal. ”Runner beans, often cold-shouldered as dull country cousins, are narrowly vertically sliced, mixed with shaved onions, cased in an entanglement of lacy batter and floated on a clam broth (bulhao pato).Tags: Adult Dating, affair dating, sex dating