Have a read of the article. I’m too modest to suggest a link between good taste and my photography!! But I’m glad to be in such good company. Although there’s a certain irony that I’m a vegetarian.

Edit: I don’t know why but Flickr says the photo is not available. But if you click it, you will be taken to it’s page on flickr.

The Brasserie, as usual, was wonderful and the staff, as usual, were prettier than the customers. The food was excellent and well presented. I really like it when the staff remember who ordered what dish.

For starters, I had a Leek and Gruyere tart. My two companions had the Soup de Jour. They couldn’t decide whether it was chicken or mushroom. Since they hadn’t asked before ordering, the natural flavours of the soup may have confused them. It was kinda funny because one of them thought Soup de Jour was a dish like mushroom soup instead of, ahem, today’s soup! I didn’t have the badness to say anything but I did order them some breads to accompany their starter.

Main courses were veggie risotto for me, salmon and chicken for my guests. Everyone was very impressed with their food and they thought it even better than the starters. Although, for me, risotto could be considered a bit unfashionable these days.

I think it was the first time my guests had been in a ‘posh’ restaurant. By posh, I mean a restaurant that is not attached to a hotel or a franchise. They were a bit intimidated by the attentive staff and they couldn’t relax as they tried ever-so-hard to remember their table manners, instead of just relaxing and enjoying themselves. If I ever had to do it again, I think it would be better to go to a Kentucky Fried Chicken and give them the saved money to spend on Diamond White cider cans (at least, I think that’s what they called it).

By common consent, dessert was the best course. Plum and almond tart for me while the other two had, let me make sure I get this right, Sticky Toffee Pudding with Vanilla Ice Cream. Apparently, it’s the only dessert worth eating. Forgive the metaphor but my companions were like two peas in a pod with their selections.

With a couple of soft drinks, the bill was just under stg£20 per head mouth.

It was good value but, for me, the only downside was the obligatory service charge. Sometimes, in these modern times, you have to type the value of the gratuity into the credit card machine whilst, other times, you have to write the gratuity on the receipt with a pen. While paying, I interrupted the waiter to ask what their procedure was but his polite reply was that ‘it was already taken care of, sir‘. The service charge was 10% and I’m 90% certain it wasn’t mentioned on the menu. I did want to leave a tip but, imho, that’s really takin’ care of bizness.

Would I go again? In a heartbeat.

It’s Official: Vegetarians Are Smarter (PETA)

Vegetarianism: the choice of the ‘more intelligent’ child (London Independent)

It’s official – vegetarians really are smarter. But it is not because of what they eat. Bright children are more likely to reject meat and opt to become vegetarians when they grow up, a study has shown. Clever veggies are born not made.

Me? Apart from a tiny smug feeling, I going to Deanes Brasserie in Belfast for lunch tomorrow. At least, I’m supposed to be. It was not my job to book it so we’ll see where we end up. I’ve eaten there before and I’m really, really looking forward to going back. It’s one of the best restaurants in Belfast/Northern Ireland but the bookee thinks we’ll just walk in…

If there is a Santa, I’m eating there tomorrow!

http://www.ireland-guide.com/establishment/deanes_brasserie.3039.html

On the ground floor under Restaurant Michael Deane, this much larger restaurant is all buzz and offers an eclectic contemporary menu, with something for everybody. It is an impressive restaurant with plenty of atmosphere, and always smartly maintained. Expect modish pre-starters like breads, oils, olives and almonds, unusual soups like brandade and white bean, light dishes such as a charcuterie plate, with celeriac remoulade, also comfort food like fish & chips with mushy peas or steak & Belfast ale pie. There’s a (very attractive) separate vegetarian menu, prices are moderate, service slick and efficient and the wine list offers plenty under £20. The pre- and post-theatre menu offers great value.

Here’s the photo and my flickr 3Mb link.

Does this make me a Published Artist? More like a Piss Artist!!

Back in the real world, I mentioned yesterday that today would a paperwork day but I got bored sitting at my desk looking out on a reasonably nice December day. So I decided a bit of retail therapy was in order. I set out for the Blanchardstown Shopping Centre to do my bit for the Irish economy, and Santa, of course! Since it was Monday and everybody should be at work, I thought it would be quite relaxing. The place would probably be empty? Maybe I’d even eat some lunch there? Maybe get a haircut? Maybe get the car washed?

Plus, I bought this watch in the duty free section of Liverpool’s John Lennon Airport last week while I was hanging about. However, it’s slightly too loose on my wrist. So a visit to the shopping centre seemed an ideal time to get it fixed. Before I move on, here’s the official website address for the airport: http://www.liverpooljohnlennonairport.com/. It’s a bit of a mouthful isn’t it? Try typing that three times quickly!

Well, I arrived in the shopping centre around noon and the place was jammed. There were no parking spaces left! I couldn’t believe it as there must be a 1,000 or more parking spaces there. I left in a bit of a huff. But I didn’t let it ruin my day. To compensate myself, I bought a Domino’s pizza for lunch. Now, shush, that’s just between you and me!

The weather was pretty bad from Liverpool to Belfast airport and there was a lot of turbulence. The pilot couldn’t land the first time and had to fly around for a second attempt. He was determined to land the second time and, by god, he certainly did. In my amateur opinion, most pilots will get the plane about 10 metres off the ground and just throttle back. The plane will descend reasonably smoothly and everybody lives happily ever after. This pilot positioned the plane in roughly the right place and just dropped it on the tarmac. I think I hurt my back as well even though I knew it was coming. The fecking plane bounced violently and he had to break sharply because he must have glided too far down the runway. At least nobody clapped in appreciation.

It took a bit longer than usual to off the plane as well. It was raining so heavily that the air hostesses wouldn’t look out the door to help the airside guys get the stairs lined up against the side of the aircraft. Eventually, one of them lost (or was volunteered) and she did the needful.

I much prefer pilots to have simple monosyllabic names like Tim, Bill, Ann, or Fran etc. Subconsciously, you know you’re safe with someone like that. Timothy, Mario, Louise, or Francesa just doesn’t cut it.

Easyjet – I hate you!!

My two days in Chester was good fun. There was about 10 of us in a 60/40 male/female split. We’re all ambitious, type-A sort of people and we are not afraid to voice our opinions. We only meet once or twice a year so put the 10 of us in a room, turn off the air-conditioning, and discuss ‘money’ (our money) as the topic and the verbal sparks flew all day. It was good fun. Sparks of a different sort flew after dark, hehe.

It was a long day for most of us as we’d travelled from all parts of the UK and Ireland. We started to relax and unwind when we got to the restaurant. It was a tex-mex place called Dos Americanos or something. The food was spicy, the conversation spicier, and the booze explosive. We didn’t realise it for a little while but the person doing the ordering was getting double tequilla’s for each round. And that tells it’s own story. Poison! Then we went on a pub crawl. (Aside: can you get barred from a pub if you’re only visiting for the day??)

One woman, soon-to-be-married, had a little kiss with a man, who is just married. The next day (i.e., this morning), we arranged it so they sat together in the front of the mini-bus on the way back to the airport!! One woman had to be carried home. Another woman who used to be a holiday rep (bleach-blonde and all the rest) had us pretending to washing machines, and kettles, and dishwashers (with sounds and actions). The punchline was ‘but I’ve got a couple of mugs behind me‘. One of the men started groping (in our group) and got punched for his trouble. He got such (friendly-ish) abuse this morning that I nearly felt sorry for him. And since there was a Scot in our company, we ended up in an 80′s karoke bar.

Apart from octupus ollie, the men were well behaved!!

I spent the evening in conversation with a very nice woman. It’s not often you meet someone who likes the same music (808 State anyone?), who likes travelling, who prefers Germany to Italy (just like me). I am very happy. I wish I could be more expressive than that because ‘I am very happy’ doesn’t do the evening justice. I think British women are much more sociable than Irish women. They’re not lunatics for a start, I’ve deleted the rest of this paragraph.

I know I bang on about karma but

– what was the ‘special’ on the radio on the drive back to Dublin this evening? A two-hour special of ’80′s/Manchester music. Lots of the Happy Mondays, The Inspirals, James, and the list goes on. Bliss.
– And even better, when I got home, Tom Waits’ Orphans CD was waiting in my postbox for me!!
– And I’ve a couple of days off work as well.

That’s karma for ya, what goes around comes around. If I’m good to someone, that goodness comes back to me in spades.

One of the places I had to visit was Hollywood. Or is it Holywood, I can never remember. Call it intuition (!) but I knew the schedule wouldn’t go to plan and I’ve have an hour to kill. So I brought my camera to take some photos in Belfast Lough Nature Reserve. The Nature Reserve is behind the City Airport. Various oil storage depots surround it. And a waste water treatment plant. Oh, and Ikea are building their Belfast store on top of an old dump!! And there’s a very large Army barracks just around the corner (depleted uranium for all!!). Still, I guess what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.

This composite photo was taken ‘in’ the Nature Reserve looking out into Belfast Lough. It’s three photos stitched together. Here’s the original 7Mb stitched photo and also the flickr large photo.

I also got hit up for a pay rise by the ‘new guy’ who’s only on the job for maybe 20 days. This is one of the problems with blue collar workers – they all swap info on what they’re being paid. He reckons he worth 12% more because ‘Tommy is an loser’ doing the same job and he’s earning £–k more. Personally, I have a lot of sympathy for his situation but, business-wise, the wage was stated on the job advertisement so he knew what he was signing up for before he applied for the job. He didn’t do himself any favours when he said he’d ‘earn’ almost twice the money on the dole.

Lunch was weird but words fail me to describe how strange it was. I was trying to impress my guest so I chose to go to a particular part of Belfast’s Lisburn Road where there’s lots of nice gastro-pubs and cafes. Thankfully, I didn’t choose the cafe. My choice is now an furniture shop interior design boutique but what a cafe we lunched in. It was posh so I need scarcely mention that the menu was written in chalk on a blackboard. Being a vegetarian, nothing usually suits so I confused the ‘wee girl’ by ordering soup and a sandwich. I know I should call her a waitress or host but she didn’t know her panini’s from her baguettes. I nearly lost my temper as I tried to explain to her that I wanted my ‘salad’ inside the bread! Seriously, I had to use hand signals to explain the concept of ‘slice of bread/salad/slice of bread = sandwich‘.

As she was totting up the bill*, she placed a playing card (4 of hearts, I think) on the counter, kinda in front of me. After we swapped money and the change, I asked her if the card was for me. ‘Yes‘, she said, ‘so we know where to bring the food‘. Silently, I wondered if I was supposed to stick the playing card behind my ear? Or maybe clench it between my teeth in some sort of Freudian ‘I’m hungry, insert food here…‘.

I think we would have been better off going to Subway beside the City Hospital. At least in Subway, you can purchase a twelve inch Italian veggie delite!! …now with a free refill. …and now I really am joking!! Phnarr, Phnarr!!

*Totting up the bill before we ate should have been a giveaway.

Anyway, just back from dinner in Banana Chilli in Drumcondra. It was a business dinner, I guess, with clients. All in all, it wasn’t too bad and I would recommend it to others. Just bring your credit card! It’s not cheap for where it is and the dessert menu was a laminated menu that offers those flash-frozen desserts which are seen far too often in restaurants these days.

Apart from the conversation, more anon, the most memorable thing about the evening was the waitress. I’m guessing she was Korean and I’ve never anyone so smiley-happy with their lot in life. She constantly had a smile on her face and she giggled a lot. The giggling combined with her accent made her impossible to understand but she was delightful. We slagged her a little bit about her delirium and she replied, with all seriousness, that she couldn’t possibly do anything ‘bad’ to customers. I’d definitely go back just to be served by her. She made everyone smile altough we did think it would be hard to live with yourself if you were that happy all the time. Imagine waking up on a deary wet November morning and giggling your way through the rain to the bus stop. Madness, for sure, lies that way.

One of my guests was visiting from the UK. Before her departure, her husband insisted she try the Oirish Guinness so she did, ever so reluctantly. She polished off her ‘alf with aplomb so I don’t think she was that reluctant after all. She was a hoot because, even though she was Welsh, she really had the ‘little Englander’ thing down to a tee. She marvelled at how Irish houses were that same as in the UK. I explained about similar cultures, similar climates and so on, but every time we turned a corner in the car, the fascination returned. Maybe she holidays in Butlins or something, but it was a weird experience for me.

My clients want me to buy their company but they’re too shy or too amateur to say so directly. So I get love-bombed every time we meet. They also try to head-hunt me every 6 months. This week, they’re going to set me up with a woman (I’m single, btw). Sadly, all they could think of was a single mother with a one-year old baby in Limerick. On reflection, I guess the advantage is getting the family unit without the nappies. Don’t choke on your cornflakes – I’m only joking!

Dinner was about €170 for the five of us. This included, ahem, some beer and wine at about €5 each. You could justify paying that in town but Drumcondra? There’s 3 or 4 restuarants, plus a gastro-pub, in a row beside it and I’m pretty sure they’re not as expensive. Having said that, Banana Chilli don’t do 2 sittings a night so we didn’t have to rush dinner.

It was very overcast as I drove along the A6 and there was quite a bit of, not fog exactly, but low-lying cloud. Ever now and then, a gap would appear in the cloud and a bit of jutting mountain would stick out and divert my eye from the very large lorries all around me. I was tempted to pull over and take some photos but (a) it would have been too dangerous and (b) the police up there are very efficient and just love to write tickets for ‘Southerners‘. And anyway I was going to lunch in Paul Rankin’s Rain City restaurant in the Malone Road area of Belfast.

Rain City in the Malone Road area of Belfast is actually on the Malone Road (!) and I’m pretty sure the only time Paul Rankin cooks these days is when he gets out of bed and makes toast for his family. Still, it’s pretty nice and, in a previous life, I used to bring clients there. Today, my companion had garlic bread for starters and spag bol for the main while I had a Totilla thingy and a veggie burger. All of it was very tasty and I’d recommend it for lunch to anyone. One thing though, I forgot to read the menu properly and my burger had rocket mayo on it. And I hate rocket.

See the table in the photo with two cups on it? That’s where we sat. Fascinating, eh! The guy at the next table must have been an arts lecturer from the nearby Queens University because, querying the menu with the waiter, he asked, ‘Where it says ‘rocket mayo’, is that rocket with mayo or just rocket mayo?‘ Like it mattered. And he wore a purple tie. Q.E.D. Arts Lecturer. Maybe Sociology.

So far, so good. I really should have paid more attention to the storm clouds and all those black ravens flying around the fields of rural Ireland. I got back to the Dublin office about 5p.m. only to find out the phones had been disconnected by Eircom. It seems we hadn’t paid our bill and fair’s fair, I guess. Our finance dept could easily be re-named another 7-letter word that begins with f, ends with -ers, and has -uck in the middle.

After several acts of random violence involving calculators and razor-sharp pencils on people who are good at maths, I calmed down and thought, ‘hey, I’m isadub, I’ve got a company credit card and I can fix this. I can fix this‘. So, onto Eircom’s website for background info and, eureka, you can pay your bill online by credit card. I am the master of the universe! A quick click for registration & filled in the details, only to be told, we cannot register you because you’ve been disconnected.

Hmmm. Tired and hungry, and definitely not a master of the universe, I clutch at straws and ring Eircom’s customer service helpline. A computer voice interrogates me for a little bit. At one point, I mutter, ‘not this sh*te again‘ and the cheeky computer says, ‘sorry I didn’t understand you‘. Yeah, right! I’m put through to a queue for the next available ‘customer service operator‘. After awhile I get bored so decide to go home.

At this point, I should say I was using my mobile phone (latterly with a car kit) and it has a loudspeaker function. The ‘we value your custom‘ stopped after approx 5 mins. By this stage, I’d pretty much figured out what was going to happen but, as an experiment, I wanted to see what would happen. So I locked up the office, got in my car, drove home, stopped at various red lights, turned into my driveway, unlocked the front door, emptied my pockets etc. And the whole time, I’m listening to the same 3 minute muzak song. Why can’t they change the song every, say, 10 minutes?

After 43 minutes, a ‘customer service agent‘ answered the phone. Yes, I wrote fourty three minutes. ‘What’s your account number?‘, she asked. I gave her the number. ‘Are you the customer?‘, I think she said. ‘Yes, I am a customer’, says I. ‘If you’re a customer, then I’m not going to help you‘, she said. Only joking??? She actually said, ‘You’ve got the wrong number, you should ring 12345678 and choose option 3‘. Now, I know from experience there’s no point in arguing with someone who can (and will) point at her computer screen and tell you ‘it’s on the computer so it must be true‘ so I hung up.

I rang the right number (it’s now about 6.30pm) and the computer voice says, ‘we’re only open 9-5‘.