Glen Hansard, The Frames + finding your passion

Apr 26, 2013

Last month I was lucky enough to see  - for the fifth time – my favourite band, The Frames, in concert in Melbourne. As always this Irish rock-folk group led by charismatic, chaotic, endearing, hilarious, brilliant frontman Glen Hansard, blew me away. They made me laugh, raised the hairs on my neck, brought tears to my eyes and had me singing, clapping and woohoo-ing loudly. They also brought home to me the importance of passion.

While the rest of The Frames deserve plaudits Hansard, to me, is the embodiment of passion. It’s visceral. It’s in his lyrics. It’s in the furious or gentle strumming of his guitar. It’s in the shouted agony in some of his songs; the haunting sadness that can descend upon him; the weaving of his many very funny tales; his obvious love for his bandmates, and the frequent laughter. Hansard, distinctive with his mop of curly red hair and intense eyes, has fronted The Frames for over 20 years. He learned his craft busking on the streets of Dublin and had a part in cult Irish film The Commitments. More recently he starred in the wonderful film Once, for which he and co-star (and former partner) Marketa Irglova earned an Oscar for the spine-tingling song, Falling Slowly.

Watching him charm, stagger, and touch every person in that audience made me realise, if I didn’t know it before, that passion is what lies behind the best art. Literature, passionately conceived and written. Visual art, created in a great burst or over a simmering, passionate season. And of course music would be just empty words and melodies without the passion of its creator.

Watching Hansard at work on stage (and later, as he led the whole band, plus string and brass accompanists, up the aisles, out the door and into the foyer of the recital hall) I wanted to get creating myself. I could feel the buzz of my great creative passion – writing – surging through my veins. I had such clarity about what I wanted to do, and felt so positive about doing it. Passion, it seems, can be contagious.

So here I share with you a few of the songs which stirred this feeling within me, in the hope they might for you to. At the end of the post, too, I’ve included a couple of links on finding your passion, which might be useful if sometimes it has slipped from your grip.

FOUR PASSION-INDUCING SONGS BY GLEN HANSARD/THE FRAMES

Come Away to the Water, written by Hansard for the film The Hunger Games.

Song of Good Hope, written for a friend of Hansard’s who, though aged only in his thirties, is battling his second bout of cancer. This pressed me right in the tear ducts and made me squeeze the knee of Loretta, one of my dearest friends, who sat beside me.

Leave. Devastating. Heart-breaking. I never would, even if he asked me to.

Lay Me Down, the first song of The Frames’ that I ever heard, from their second album. It stopped me in my tracks the way only a song that seems complete can. That completeness to me is in the reverberating drums, the gentle-touch violin and the dark beauty of the lyrics, which are about being buried with a lover. I still close my eyes and feel that violin right across my back every time I hear it.

 

WANT SOME HELP TAPPING INTO YOUR PASSION?

Watch this video of Ken Robinson, a prominent thinker on creativity and self-fulfilment, speak at The School of Life in London (hat-tip to Brain Pickings for bringing it to my attention):

Watch this TED lecture by Simon Sinek on seeking out the “why” of what you’re doing (hat-tip to Kate McCormack). It sparked a few light-bulb moments for me.

And finally, do let us know what your passion is. What gives you that beautiful sense of clarity?

(Written by Julia)

 

 

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Recipe of the month: raw beetroot, butternut pumpkin and pecan salad

Apr 23, 2013

The problem with most diets is not only that they are unsustainable, they are uninspiring. In the past I have fallen into the cycle of following periods of indulgence by periods of abstinence or cleansing. Although this feels like it evens out the imbalance in some ways, it’s not ideal for leading a healthy and balanced lifestyle.

So when I heard the vivacious and incredibly inspiring Kemi Nekvapil speak at the Big Hearted Business Conference last month about her practical health advice and refreshing philosophies, my ears pricked up with the hope of a different model for healthy eating.

Kemi is a raw food advocate. But instead of promoting strict and unsustainable juice fasts or other extreme measures, she gave us tips for how to ‘add more raw’ to our regular diet in simple and easy ways, but ways that actually lead to health improvement and better habits. Try to eat a simple green salad with one meal each day. Add a green smoothie in the morning. Do nothing but substitute your normal lunch for a big raw salad or veg dish each day.

She explained why she believes it’s important to change not only what we eat, but also our relationship to food and eating. Luckily for those of you who were not at the conference, Big Hearted Business’s first Inspiration Bomb (very Bulbalicous terminology, don’t you think?) featuring Kemi, is available for all the world to consume, and I highly recommend that you do.

I have been making an effort to incorporate more raw food into my life in the past month, and as Kemi suggested, I’ve found that it really is pretty simple when you become aware of it. But more importantly, I’ve unexpectedly found it to be more enjoyable and satisfying than the alternatives. There is something about eating raw that makes you feel properly alive. In Kemi’s words: “This is how humans are supposed to feel all the time!”

So take some raw inspiration from Kemi and try this delicious beetroot, butternut pumpkin and pecan slaw recipe that has been knocking my socks off lately. Healthy doesn’t have to equal boring.

RAW BEETROOT, BUTTERNUT PUMPKIN AND PECAN SALAD (adapted from Apron Strings)

INGREDIENTS

1-2 cups chopped pecans (walnuts or hazelnuts also work well)

2 large beetroot, peeled

500g butternut squash, peeled

1/4 cup roughly chopped flat leaf parsley

2 tbspn extra virgin olive oil

2 tbspn red wine or sherry vinegar

1 tbspn maple syrup

2 tspn whole grain mustard

Salt and fresh black pepper, to taste

METHOD

1. In a small, dry, non-stick frying pan, toast the pecans over low heat for 3-4 minutes, until they are fragrant but not burned. Remove from the pan and set aside.

2. Grate the beetroot or shred in a food processor. Set aside in a large stain-proof glass, ceramic or stainless steel bowl.

3. Grate, finely slice or shred the butternut squash in a food processor. Add the squash to the beets, along with the parsley and toasted pecans. Do not toss!

4. In a small measuring bowl or jug, whisk together the oil, vinegar, maple syrup, mustard and salt and pepper.

5. Just before you’re ready to serve, pour the dressing over the shredded vegetables, and toss gently. Serve immediately, before the colours have a chance to run.

* Image courtesy of The Perfect Pantry

(Written by Sarah)

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The Bulb in Mexico: Oaxaca cooking class at Casa Crespo (and the passion fruit salsa recipe)

Apr 19, 2013

Reading Julia’s post this week on the joys of growing her own vegetables, and revisiting her recent interview with fresh-food champion Rohan Anderson of Whole Larder Love, got me thinking about where and when in recent times I’ve felt similar jolts of happiness from either eating or preparing truly fresh produce.

In my London life, these jolts are not as easy, or as cheap, to come by. Even though I get an organic fruit and vegetable box once a week, there are many markets selling  fresh produce and there are heaps of restaurants that serve incredibly fresh dishes, the frenetic pace and long hours of work and play in the city mean the convenience and price of food at supermarket chains commonly suit this lifestyle. I admit, Tesco is just around the corner from my flat and I am but human.

So, my musings on fresh food inspiration took me out of London and to my travels. I realised that when I visit other countries I have the time and an increased desire to seek out local food markets, buy and prepare the fresh produce, do my research on which restaurants serve the best fresh-produce dishes and and sometimes try a local cooking school.

One of the best experiences I have had on this front was last year during a trip to Mexico. During my three weeks travelling to Mexico City and the states of Oaxaca and Chiapas, I fell in love with the country’s colourful existence, the history of the tumultuous nation, the family-centred values of the people and everyone’s passion for food in all its glory. Markets are everywhere, street food is everywhere and the array of tastes and dishes, mostly prepared with ingredients grown nearby, are exhilarating for any foodie.

In Oaxaca (pronounced wahaca) city, the cooking class at Casa Crespo was the perfect demonstration of why taking fresh food to the dining table in a matter of hours makes it taste just so incredible. The school focuses solely on Oaxacan cuisine, using ingredients and techniques from each of the state’s eight regions, from where incredible  dishes such as chapulines (grasshoppers) and mole sauce hail.

The class started with a welcome from chef, Oscar, who then took us to a nearby organic food market that was away from the tourist areas. Oscar described the array of produce, their origins and uses and bought up big for the cooking class ahead. I was introduced to new foods, such as the local Oaxacan cheese, and to new uses for foods I’d never considered cooking with, such as zucchini and squash flower blossoms.

At the Casa Crespo cooking class

Not 10 minutes later, we were back in the kitchen turning those ingredients into our late lunch. We started by learning how to make the staple of Mexican cuisine, tortillas, which is actually quite an art involving precise rolling, slapping and frying. These were turned into quesadillas con flor de calabaza y quesillo (quesadillas with squash flower blossoms and quesillo). The squash flowers also formed the basis of sopa de flor de calabaza y champinoes (squash flower blossom soup with mushrooms).

Sopa de flor de calabaza y champinoes

Ingredients that I have cooked with thousands of time – including chilli, garlic, tomatoes, cinnamon, almonds, onions, chicken, olives and raisans – took on a whole new life in estofoado de pollo (almond mole). In my three previous days in Oaxaca, I had only eaten the more traditional mole poblano and mole negro, which have an average of 20 ingredients that are roasted and ground in a fine power or paste and mixed with broth to create a thick heavy sauce commonly served with chicken. Mole usually takes at least a day to make, but in the interest of making the recipe as easy-to-take-home as possible, Oscar chose the almond version. It was easy and scrumptious.

Estofoado de pollo

Oscar taught us his versions of salsa de jimate asado (roasted tomato salsa), guacamole and the incredibly simple but incredibly delicious salsa de maracyá (passion fruit salsa). I never knew passion fruit, dried chillies, garlic and a pinch of salt could taste so good!

Finishing the menu was helado de pétalos rosas (rose petal ice cream). The simple combination of milk, sugar, almonds and dried and fresh rose petals again showed me that complicated recipes are certainly not needed to create wonderful dishes.

Helado de pétalos rosas

Our cooking class ate our spoils either on the Casa Crespo rooftop or in the formal dining room. The conversation over lunch did not stray far from how truly wonderful the food was and how it was the freshness of the produce that really made the difference, although we liked to give our own cooking skills some of the credit too!

Remembering my experience at Casa Crespo, the next challenge for me is to incorporate that fresh food passion into my life more in London. I’ll keep you updated, but in the meantime, here’s the Casa Crespo recipe for passion fruit salsa that so wowed my taste buds.

SALSA DE MARACUYÁ (passion fruit salsa)

Ingredients
1 passion fruit
10 dried árbol chillis (or substitute of cayenne pepper or pequin chillis)
1 garlic cloves
Salt to taste

Method
1. Toast the chillis and garlic on a comal (flat griddle or pan). Remove the seeds from the chillis.
2. Cut the passion fruit in half, scoop out the fruit pulp and seeds and place them in a blender with the chiles and garlic. Add ¼ cup of water and blend.
3. Transfer to a sauce dish, add salt and stir.

I paid US$65 for the four-hour cooking class as Casa Crespo, which includes drinks, snacks and of course the lunch I cooked myself.

(Written by Laura)

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Nurturing nature: five tips from a passionate gardener

Apr 16, 2013

Until recently, all my thumbs knew how to do was press the space bar. But then my husband and I bought a new home whose backyard consisted of a stark bricked courtyard. Its main features were an ugly grey roller-door and an unconvincingly camouflaged clothes-line. Something had to be done: it was time to embrace my inner gardener. To turn those pink thumbs green.

My potted history (boom!) as a gardener consisted of several failed attempts at keeping flower boxes alive on my windowsill in London, and a neglected indoor palm that withered every time I looked at it. It didn’t bode well and I was not at all confident. But then Mum whispered in my ear that my nanna, whose formidable gardening talents extended to knowing the Latin names for most plants, had said she never expected my father to be able to garden because he’d never shown much interest. This bucked me up because Dad’s gift for gardening is legendary: my parents eat from theirs most nights, and each time I return home I am blown away by their creation. Abundant and beautifully nurtured trees and plants – some native, some not – sway in the coastal breeze, while Mum’s British heritage is evident in the cottage feel of the flower beds and many fat clumps of herbs. The saying,”You are closer to God’s heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth” pertains beautifully (and I’m not even religious).

This may be one of the blood vessels to God’s heart

It may be coincidence, but my desire to learn how to plant and keep a garden alive coincided with having baby Orla. How hard can it be, I figured. If I can keep a small person alive, surely I can manage a few plants?

Six months on, I look out from my kitchen at a fledgeling cottage garden. I have proudly roasted the three beautiful, shiny aubergines that emerged, and sliced and diced the four tomatoes that popped from the one plant I have. I still pray that the flowers that blossom will produce more sibling vegetables. Most days I head out with the scissors and ask myself, “What will it be today? Cos, beetroot leaves, rocket or silver beet?  Mint, basil, sage, thyme, oregano or parsley?” I fuss over my leeks and spring onions and and fret over my beans and peas as they climb towards the sky. I greet like old friends the colourful faces of petunias, pansies, marigolds, gazanias and dahlias each morning, and wonder at the elegance of lavender and salvia. My lemon and olive trees, dwarf mandarin and oleander plants watch over me as I do my sun salutes, while the pair of doves that have taken to snuggling on the clothesline coo like lovers. I have even been known to cut off a phonecall to run out and chase away the evil white moth whose caterpillar offspring guzzle at my lettuces.

The ones that got away: these survived the caterpillars’ advances

The biggest lesson in gardening for me, a terrible perfectionist, has been to experiment; to not be afraid of failure. Some things – like my pots of flowers and the sensuous cardamom plant – worked immediately. Other things, like dill and befuddlingly,, geraniums, didn’t thrive. So what? I told myself. I’ll try something else!

Learning from others has been fundamental. My newest friend is the aptly-named Russell, owner of the local nursery. When he sees Orla and I roll in the door his big red face cracks into a smile and he braces himself himself for an onslaught of questions. “What should I plant in a west-facing position in the height of summer? Why is my coriander sunburnt? What should I plant against the trellis for autumn? How do you keep those dastardly moths away?”

Spot the garden gnome

And of course there are my parents, whose knowledge and experience is awe-inspiring. Dad has spent a couple of afternoons pulling out twiggy shrubs and espaling my olive trees, and takes great pleasure in contradicting Russell and advising me on plant selection, soil preparation and planting. Mum shows her love by sharing her knowledge of herbs, pulling out the weeds that grow between the bricks and bringing me cuttings (or indeed, “borrowing” cuttings from the neighbours’ gardens as we go for walks).

I have spent many an hour gaining inspiration on Pinterest, working out what I like and what I don’t, and finding quirky ideas for planters – such as the seatless chair and my beloved crates you see below.

While I have a long way to go – I plan to reposition the clothes-line, pull up the bricks and lay grass, plant a tree or two and put in another flower bed – I knew I had the makings of a gardener recently when my conversation with self-sufficiency pin-up boy, Rohan Anderson of Whole Larder Love fame (whose interview you can read here) turned to vegetables, and what to plant when. I nearly squealed when we got on to the subject of growing tomatoes, and found myself nodding vigorously when he described the satisfaction of eating from his own garden.

Go you good thing! Peas tower over my micro veggie garden

All in all, gardening gives me a lot of joy. In the hope that you may discover this joy for yourself – if you haven’t already – here are my five little pearls (or should that be seeds?) of wisdom, gathered up over the last six months. Of course I am an absolute beginner, so please send me your tips too. Anyone know how to encourage a geranium to flower, perchance?

FIVE TIPS FOR NEW GARDENERS, FROM A NEW GARDENER

1. Give up perfectionism. Experiment. Celebrate the successes; take note of the things that don’t work and move on.

2. Start small and cultivate confidence. One pot of flowers. One tomato plant. One bunch of basil.

3. Ask for help.  Passionate gardeners love to share their knowledge (as this list attests).

4. No space is too small. As evidenced by my micro-veggie  garden above: measuring two feet by two feet it contains  peas, oregano, leeks, spring onions, beetroot  and a flower I’ve forgotten the name of.  (If I have overplanted, as I suspect I have, who cares! I’ll pull some things out.)

5. Take a little time. It has taken probably two full days over six months to prepare the soil and plant my garden, and roughly ten minutes each day to water and tend to it. But I find myself wandering out there and hovering over it more and more. When you love something it’s amazing how you can find the time to devote to it.

(Written by Julia)

 

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Aluka reinvents raw with debut album “Space”

Apr 12, 2013

Discovering a new piece of music can sometimes make me feel like I’m being reborn. It can be as if I’m hearing for the first time, my brain being tickled with something new, intriguing, beautiful, raw.

That’s how I felt when I first listened to the debut album, Space, from Melbourne trio Aluka. Using only their voices and body percussion (clapping, hand drumming etc), the all-female a cappella group create disarming sounds from the rawest of forms. Weaving together intricate harmonies, body and vocal percussion, tempo and time signature changes, they do away with other instruments and backing in their mission to reinvent a cappella.

Melbourne-based a cappella trio, Aluka

And inventive it is. Through the meandering journey that is Space, they have moments of sounding like an African American gospel choir, a 1930s vocal troupe, Destiny’s Child and some kind of ancient tribe conducting a secret ritual, yet somehow retain a fabulous originality. It’s utterly engaging.

Add to that the inspiring story of the recording of their album. They ditched the conventional and restrictive studio in favour of recording in unique spaces and places across Victoria, from a bathroom to an indoor swimming pool, a train station and a World War II bunker. Each place was carefully chosen to suit the character of each song. The subtle but atmospheric results are mesmerising.

Listening to pure vocals makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. It might be that it brings back memories of being in a girls’ a cappella group when I was at school, sitting around practicing into the early hours of the morning. But I think it has more to do with witnessing creativity in one of its purest and more primal forms.

Aluka’s music is a reminder to me that sometimes it’s in stripping things back to their fundamental components, rather than trying to create something “new” and complex, that real creative discovery and originality is born.

Aluka’s debut album is a breath of fresh air, but bound to something primordial. If you’re lucky enough to be in Australian cities where they are still yet to play as part of their national tour, try to get your hands on some tickets to witness the raw beauty of an artform without retouching.

(Written by Sarah)

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