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    A Puppeteer’s ‘Rite’ of Passage

    Monday, April 29th, 2013
    [image]

    KPO Photo

    Christopher Williams in ‘The Rite of Spring’

    Chapel Hill, N.C.

    Basil Twist has described his “Rite of Spring” as a “ballet without dancers.” As the puppeteer states in his program note for the “Rite of Spring at 100″ festival at Carolina Performing Arts, he borrowed this description from Italian futurist Giacomo Balla, who similarly identified his dancerless 1917 Ballets Russes staging of “Fireworks,” Igor Stravinsky’s 1909 symphonic poem.

    Last Friday, “Fireworks” opened the two-performance triple-bill called “Basil Twist, Puppeteer, With Orchestra of St. Luke’s.” The approximately four-minute curtain-raiser led Mr. Twist’s program neatly. Fixed at the center of the blue-curtained Memorial Hall proscenium, the 2013 “Fireworks” offered a luminous evocation—in striking blacks, whites and grays—of Balla’s full-color cubistic landscape of plains and pinwheels. Mr. Twist’s twist on the original takes Balla’s basic design and animates it as if it were a little garden of geometric solids with inner lives of their own. It gently unfolds by way of shifting moves and changing lighting into a scene reminiscent of a Buck Rogers world, with its sharpest element taking off as if rocket propelled.

    To proceed with his finely calibrated show, Mr. Twist kept things at the edge of the stage. He created a stage-wide frieze in front of the house curtain for 11 of his puppeteers to animate the program’s second work, Stravinsky’s 1920 “Pulcinella” (here in its later suite form). The subtly lighted, black-clad men and women became hazy shadows as they manipulated lengths of white tubing that might have been enlarged pieces of uncooked pasta. (Ayumu Poe Saegusa’s lighting throughout gave masterly incandescence to every element it touched.)

    What begins as a lineup of manipulated individual tubes, at times as if escaped from a pipe organ, climaxes in the arrangement and rearrangement of its parts—now as starbursts, then as galloping horses, and again into male and female stick figures—that tell of the Pulcinella and Pimpinella characters in the music’s commedia dell’arte scenario. Mr. Twist shows his man and woman to us as a courting couple and as a duo performing a stately gavotte, as indicated in Stravinsky’s score, to which the tickled Carolina audience expressed audible delight.

    “The Rite of Spring,” the bill’s pièce de résistance, was the evening’s most expansive creation, using the stage’s full dimensions. Speaking at a postperformance talk-back, the puppeteer noted how he eagerly took advantage of the stage’s full 44-foot depth outfitted with an elaborate rigging system in place for hanging sets.

    Accompanied, as were all the works on the program, by memorable performances from the Orchestra of St. Luke’s conducted by Brad Lubman, Stravinsky’s “Rite” was given a colorful orchestration by Jonathan McPhee.

    Mr. Twist’s rendering of music, once thought to be outrageously brutal and assaulting, proceeds in eye-filling and variously articulated stages with consistently nonfigurative elements. These range from breathtaking and extensive walls of cascading silk, silhouetted and stiff beamlike pieces, bolts of fabric and lumps of crumpled material, all artfully maneuvered by puppeteers.

    Greg Meeh is credited for the special effects and Daniel Brodie for projection design, all of which work in loving concert with Mr. Saegusa’s lighting. The black, white and gray palette for this landscape, populated by none of the tribal figures featured in Vaslav Nijinsky’s original version of “Rite,” is elaborated along the way by spreading-ink-stain projections and by trajectories of smoke rings that appear shot from a cannon. Art-historical references to such abstract painters as Franz Kline, Kasimir Malevich, Piet Mondrian and Mark Rothko pass through the stage pictures.

    For the “Danse Sacrale,” Stravinsky’s climactic dance to the death, Mr. Twist tweaks his creation “without dancers” by capping it with one featured dancer. A lone, single color—spring green—frames a nearly naked Christopher Williams, who fearlessly jumps and turns wildly at the center of the stage before clambering precariously up a rope ladder toward the top of the stage. There, he collapses backward as Stravinsky’s final, bleating note cues the escape from within the proscenium space of a silky wisp of pure-white fabric, sending it like a comet into the auditorium ceiling. Though the choreographic details of Mr. Williams’ dance up until this point seem more predictable than profound, the unleashed fabric magically caps this show.

    At 100, Stravinsky’s “Rite” has become Mr. Twist’s brave new world of unforgettable effects.

    Mr. Greskovic writes about dance for the Journal.

    A version of this article appeared April 17, 2013, on page D5 in the U.S. edition of The Wall Street Journal, with the headline: A Puppeteer’s ‘Rite’ of Passage.

    © 2011 Wall Street Journal (www.wsj.com)

    Cooking With Lemony Snicket

    Saturday, April 27th, 2013

    Alanna Hale for The Wall Street Journal

    BOOKISH COOK | The author in his San Francisco kitchen

    THOUGH HE HAS sold more than 60 million books, even some devoted readers don’t know that children’s book author Lemony Snicket is actually San Francisco-based writer Daniel Handler—or that he’s also a cocktail aficionado and ambitious home cook. Under his own name and his nom de plume, Mr. Handler has written more than two dozen books, including “A Series of Unfortunate Events,” about the misadventures of the orphaned Baudelaire children. Last fall he launched a new series called “All the Wrong Questions.” Out this month from Little, Brown, his new picture book is the tale of a young boy, Laszlo, and his efforts to get acquainted with the thing he most fears, spelled out in the book’s title: “The Dark.” The suitably spooky illustrations are by Jon Klassen. As prolific as he is, Mr. Handler often curtails his workday in midafternoon to prepare dinner for his wife, illustrator Lisa Brown, and their young son, Otto. Mr. Handler spoke to us from the sun-drenched kitchen of their San Francisco townhouse as he chopped radishes for a tandoori feast.

    Alanna Hale for The Wall Street Journal

    Refrigerator ephemera

    We moved into this house in 2002. The fridge is kind of lousy, but I love a big open space to cook, and a big island. It’s pretty great.

    We own an absurd
    number of machines to make coffee. I have a double espresso in the morning, and Lisa has coffee from the Krups (which I make, I might add). We also have a French press, a Melitta and two stovetop espresso makers.

    My favorite
    frying pan is a zillion years old. It cooks evenly, and it’s really big. My favorite soup pot, from Sur La Table, is lightweight and easy to clean. I have no idea what it’s made of; I’m not really that kind of cook. I’m top of the amateur class, but not even bottom of the professional class.

    Alanna Hale for The Wall Street Journal

    Tool drawer

    We mostly eat
    vegetarian at home, but when we go out, we order whatever we want. I like greens many people don’t—beet greens, parsnip greens, radish greens. Parsnip greens are good with a strong meat or an interesting grain like red rice or farro.

    I love pimentón de la Vera, a smoked Spanish paprika. I first had it at a restaurant, on French fries, and thought it was the most delicious thing in the world. The owner had this story about how it was a secret spice blend. Then the waiter came by and showed us the tin. This spice is the savior of the organic vegetable box we have delivered, when everything starts to wilt. You can make a soup—just fry up some onions, add some broth and chop up whatever vegetables are looking miserable. Add pimentón and it’s delicious.

    Alanna Hale for The Wall Street Journal

    Seltzer bottles

    We get seltzer delivered from the Seltzer Sisters. When I first saw their delivery truck, I literally ran after it. All my life I wanted enough seltzer in the house. And the bottles are so neat.

    My primary indulgence is a fancy after-dinner something if we’re having people over. I just got this [Marolo] camomile grappa. I had some at a restaurant and they called it Italian Ambien.

    We have a small collection of cocktail books. The beautiful ones are tucked away, where people won’t spill on them. But the most useful ones are in the kitchen—”The New York Bartender’s Guide,” “The Savoy Cocktail Book.” Our favorite is called “Bottoms Up,” illustrated with paintings of naked women, often in martini glasses. It’s real classy.

    I don’t care much for dry vermouth. In a Martini, I want to taste the gin. There are so many interesting gins now, like Bluecoat, from Philadelphia. It’s got these dry, powdery spices, really good. I like a Hendrick’s Martini in the summertime; you taste all that cucumber and grass. But Carpano Antica sweet vermouth is super good. I use it in Old-Fashioneds, Manhattans, Negronis, Old Pals.

    Alanna Hale for The Wall Street Journal (ice cream); Getty Images (drink)

    Clockwise from top left: Mr. Handler’s latest, ‘The Dark’; Manhattan cocktail; It’s-It ice cream sandwich

    The Old-Fashioned changed my life. It’s my literary agent’s drink; the first time I met her, she ordered one. I didn’t have any idea what it was, I think I was 25 at the time, so I ordered one, too. It was sweet and delicious. I find it’s a great beginner’s cocktail and an advanced cocktail, too, because it’s easy to drink and has endless variations.

    The most overrated ingredient is bacon. It depresses me that in restaurants Brussels sprouts are now just the way bacon is conveyed to the table.

    The most underrated ingredient might be radishes. I think most people are afraid to eat them. I usually eat them raw or in soups; they’re good when you don’t quite want an onion. I put them on top of things, too, where one might use parsley—an enchilada or a piece of fish.

    I’m not much of a dessert person, so if I’m going to serve dessert, I like something trashy. Not nouveau-trashy like s’mores with homemade marshmallows, but actual trash, like It’s-It ice cream sandwiches. There’s just something delightful about a ridiculous packaged dessert on a plate after a carefully prepared dinner.

    Our son embarrassed us in front of his pediatrician, who was asking what green foods he ate. He does actually eat a lot of broccoli and romaine lettuce. But the only one he could think of was mint-flavored It’s-Its.

    —Edited from an interview by Emily Kaiser Thelin

    A version of this article appeared April 13, 2013, on page D6 in the U.S. edition of The Wall Street Journal, with the headline: Cooking With Lemony Snicket.

    © 2011 Wall Street Journal (www.wsj.com)

    A Minute With: Billy Ray Cyrus on Miley and his “Hillbilly Heart”

    Wednesday, April 24th, 2013


    LOS ANGELES |
    Wed Apr 17, 2013 8:34am EDT

    LOS ANGELES (Reuters) – After writing hit song “Achy Breaky Heart,” starring in Disney Channel show “Hannah Montana” and raising a famous daughter, country singer and actor Billy Ray Cyrus has found himself at a crossroads.

    In his memoir “Hillbilly Heart,” published this week, Cyrus writes about his early life in Kentucky, joining his daughter Miley on the 2006-11 TV show that made her a teen idol and how he is still hungry for success despite having moved out of the spotlight.

    Cyrus, 51, talked to Reuters about the challenges of raising Miley, his mistakes, and what he wished he had not included in his new book.

    Q: Revisiting your life for this book, did you have any revelations about your journey so far?

    A: The one thing that was pretty obvious is that I’ve had a pretty crazy life. It’s colorful … reliving some of those closets that I had shut, locked and thrown away the key intentionally because it was painful to revisit a lot of those places – especially the loss of my buddy Robbie Tooley, the divorce of my parents, some of the things I went through as a kid, a lot of that stuff was locked up for a reason – it was painful. But at the same time, there was some therapy in revisiting some of those spots.

    Q: Was it hard to balance how much you wanted to include in your book about Miley’s story?

    A: I think it would have been hard to write my life story without touching on (hers) somewhat. But at the same time, I respect her privacy and her life, and her world and her life is examined by everybody and everything. For me, I’m very respectful of her privacy, but yes … I think it would have been missed a bit if I didn’t touch on some aspect of it.

    I’m respectful that she’s a young human being and just being a young person in today’s world is tough enough as it is. That makes it hard on a young person let alone be that famous and to live her life in that spotlight. I kind of walked through it respectfully.”

    Q: You address the controversies you and your wife Tish faced regarding Miley, be it the Vanity Fair photoshoot (showing her only in a bed sheet at age 15) or the video of her smoking out of a bong. Was it difficult reflecting on those?

    A: I didn’t point a finger. The first thing I do (in the book) is I’m pointing a finger more at myself and saying, learn by my mistakes. I’m not a perfect person so therefore I’m not in any position to tell anyone how to be perfect.

    That’s what daddies do – sheltering the storm, to be there, to pick you up when you get knocked down … I’m not a perfect parent and this book is not about how to be perfect at anything. This book is a documentation about what my journey was, some of the mistakes that I made and some of the things that I did right. And every now and then, I think failure is the most ingredient for success.”

    Q: Why choose to write your book now?

    A: I’m hungry for purpose. I’m looking for still that reason that I bought a guitar and started a band, to fulfill a purpose, to manifest destiny as to who I am and why I am the way I am, and what I do. I think it’s still about the music, the song and the story.

    Q: You sound like you’re at crossroads?

    A: Crossroads – that is the most accurate … I’m hungry, I’ve got a chance to learn more from this than anybody … I’m standing at a crossroads. I’m not entirely sure what the future holds … I’m at a crossroads, but it’s a little bit different than the crossroads I’ve been at before because now I’m doing what I do because I love it, and doing what I do because it’s pure passion.”

    Q: Anything you wish you hadn’t included in the book?

    A: One of the worst things I did was steal a 3D picture of Jesus for my grandmother for Christmas. That’s terrible. I’d give anything if I hadn’t have done that, but I did … that story I think I could have left out.

    (Reporting By Piya Sinha-Roy. Editing by Jill Serjeant and Andre Grenon)

    © 2011 REUTERS (www.reuters.com)

    Cher’s Alive, Despite What You Read On Twitter

    Monday, April 22nd, 2013

    Story By: by Mark Memmott

    Cher in 2011.

    What do you see when you read this Twitter hashtag?

    #nowthatcherisdead

    It’s supposed to be about Monday’s death of former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and looks to have been popularized by the website “IsThatcherDeadYet,” which was not upset to hear about the Iron Lady’s passing. “It’s fair to say that we are not fans,” site co-creator Jared Earle told The Guardian.

    When Thatcher died, the website asked readers “how are you celebrating?” and suggested they use the #nowthatcherisdead hashtag.

    Monday at 7:58 a.m. ET, just after the news broke of Thatcher’s death, the hashtag popped up on Twitter. The first tweet from someone who seemed to have read it wrong came four minutes later:

    “So sad to hear that Cher is dead. #nowthatcherisdead.”

    That led to some confusion and amusement. Comedian Ricky Gervais was among those who tried to straighten things out:

    “Some people are in a frenzy over the hashtag #nowthatchersdead. It’s ‘Now Thatcher’s dead’. Not, ‘Now that Cher’s dead’ JustSayin’ “

    This goes to show, tweets @WePlayOnWords, “why capital letters should be used in hashtags #NowThatcherIsDead #nowthatcherisdead.”

    As for Cher, she doesn’t seem to have joined in the discussion. But she was on Twitter early Tuesday, posting notes and a photo.

    ‘Off Pitch’: A Show-Choir Story From The American Midwest

    Friday, April 19th, 2013

    Story By: by Linda Holmes

    Director Rob takes charge of a rehearsal in VH1′s Off Pitch.

    Beware, Midwesterners: reality television is coming for you.

    The last couple of seasons have brought an outpouring of what is ungenerously referred to as “redneck television” — shows that highlight the American South, sometimes affectionately and sometimes in a spirit of distilled mockery. While many of these shows have foundered, some have prospered — none more than A&E’s Duck Dynasty, which critic Maureen Ryan recently called “a combination of backwoods ‘reality’ shows, family comedies and Thom Beers’ Deadliest Catch-style he-man shows.”

    It seems inevitable that regional fatigue will set in at some point, and it’s thus unsurprising that VH1 is turning its eyes north to the upper Midwest for Off Pitch, a mashup of a variation on redneck shows, some pointing and laughing at delusions of grandeur as viewers do with Real Housewives franchises, a generous dollop of Waiting For Guffman (in plot, not in execution), and a little sprinkling of Glee.

    The Grand River Singers are a singing group from La Crosse, Wisconsin — an all-adult community show choir. They’re directed by Tim and Rob, a couple in life as well as in directing.

    Tim and Rob, as they are presented on the show, fit most of the stereotypes you might expect television to embrace about gay show-choir directors, which isn’t bad, obviously, it’s just not particularly interesting. (This is particularly true of Rob, with whom we spend more time.) The key to a show like this is the people, and the key to making anyone care about them is usually to find the ways in which they aren’t what you would expect to see on TV, not to drive headlong into every cliche at 100 miles per hour. There’s undoubtedly more to them than this, and perhaps we’ll see it at some point, but not in the premiere.

    The rest of the choir is indistinctly presented as loud, modestly talented, starved for attention, melodramatic, and worthy of scorn. This is essentially a cast made up of the kinds of people who give the American Idol auditions that are the hardest to watch — people who love performing, who have just enough ability to dream unrealistically, who will never be stars, and whose hearts break extravagantly every time they are disappointed.

    There’s a way to do a show like this with some affection, and it’s always possible that Off Pitch will mature into that kind of show. It would be condescending to assume that the Grand River Singers are less equipped than other people to decide whether they do or don’t want to participate in this often phony-smelling spectacle. But this is not an affectionate show. It is not entertained for even a moment that Tim and Rob are doing something that enriches their community, or that anyone in their choir is talented. Previews for the rest of the season show disaster after disaster, without a hint that there’s any story here, even around the edges, about how arts really do mean something to people, even amateurs.

    It’s interesting that the people who make it to reality television in New York and Los Angeles tend to be the outrageously wealthy, the outrageously successful, the overindulged, and the schadenfreude-inducing. In the rest of the country, what used to be “redneck TV” (a term that’s offensive to real people but often accurate in the way that the casts are viewed by the networks displaying them) may be morphing into “unsophisticated TV,” where every region of the country can contribute people for networks centered on both coasts to make fun of. Rest assured that both New York and Los Angeles have plenty of delusional and untalented people trying to break into show business. But perhaps it’s impressive just to know that somewhere in their offices, VH1 found a map with Wisconsin on it.

    Off Pitch premieres tonight on VH1 at 10:00 p.m.

    Braving the Bard on the Boards

    Thursday, April 18th, 2013

    From my excellent drama-school teacher in London in 1970, I learned two things about speaking Shakespeare that I still practice.

    One is that you have to paraphrase every single word, translate it into ordinary English. Two is that, having understood the speech, you then have to get it up to speed. In real life we don’t spell things out; we think and talk very quickly. An audience will grasp the essence of a Shakespeare speech much better the same way.

    The essence of good Shakespearean acting is an ability to speak the text. There’s no amount of physical showing-off that can compensate. At first I trusted neither my technique nor my voice. Ringing in my head was what a major Shakespeare actor should sound like (not South African, which I am!). Luckily, in the early 1980s, during my first years with the Royal Shakespeare Company, our tutors were extraordinary.

    The lessons they taught were deceptively simple in theory, but hard in practice. Take “pass the baton,” one of the catchphrases of the voice coach Cicely Berry. It means that you have to reach the end of your own speech very clearly, so that, in the great rush of words which make up a Shakespeare text, the next character can pick up the thought and run with it. This goes against our modern way of mumbling away our sentences, trailing off with a “y’know” or “see what I mean?”

    The director John Barton told us that, when Shakespeare wants to make his most heartfelt statements, he uses the simplest language, which needs no paraphrasing. Lear says to his Fool, “O, let me not be mad.” In “The Winter’s Tale,” as Leontes reaches out to touch what he thinks is a statue of his dead wife, he says, “O, she’s warm!” I have prickles down my spine as I write that.

    Some scholars say that the early speeches of Leontes, whom I played for the RSC in 1999, are incomprehensible. In fact, they’re a perfect demonstration of another of Ciss Berry’s most firmly held beliefs—that Shakespeare is meant to be spoken, not read.

    Leontes’ jealousy erupts in the soliloquy that begins: “Inch-thick, knee-deep, o’er head and ears a forked one.” The last phrase refers to cuckold’s horns, but what about the rest? An actor playing Leontes will leap on the line with relish. It’s an ugly, visceral bubble of subconsciousness rising to the surface. Once you understand that Leontes is mentally unstable—as opposed to the old-fashioned view that he is “villainous”—every one of his unfinished sentences or jumped thoughts becomes a valuable detail in creating his portrait.

    Playing Leontes, I discovered that if I could fully trust Shakespeare, the text was liberating, not intimidating. This was even truer of my next role, later that year—Macbeth. A disciplined military leader, he kills the king, and his mind begins to fracture:

    Lady Macbeth: My husband? / Macbeth: I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise? / Lady Macbeth: I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did you not speak? / Macbeth: When? / Lady Macbeth: Now. / Macbeth: As I descended? / Lady Macbeth: Ay.

    Macbeth is panicking; Lady Macbeth trying to calm him down. Because it feels so real, it puts you in the situation. Yes, you think, this is how I’d behave—veering between hysteria and the instinct to survive.

    “Macbeth” was directed by my partner, Greg Doran, who is now the RSC’s artistic director. More than anyone else, he has helped me understand that I have as much right to be performing Shakespeare as any British-born actor, and that his work belongs to us all.

    —Sir Antony has won two Laurence Olivier awards for acting. This is adapted from his chapter in “Living With Shakespeare: Essays by Writers, Actors and Directors,” edited by Susannah Carson, which was published Tuesday by Vintage.

    A version of this article appeared April 13, 2013, on page C18 in the U.S. edition of The Wall Street Journal, with the headline: Braving the Bard on The Boards.

    © 2011 Wall Street Journal (www.wsj.com)

    Chef Simon Rogan abandons plans for London restaurant

    Thursday, April 18th, 2013


    CARTMEL, ENGLAND |
    Tue Apr 16, 2013 5:50am EDT

    CARTMEL, ENGLAND (Reuters) – Simon Rogan, one of the UK’s top chefs, has abandoned long-awaited plans to open a permanent restaurant in London, for fear his two Michelin-starred L’Enclume restaurant could suffer.

    Rogan, who has regularly appeared on TV and who is well known for “foraging” ingredients from the surrounding countryside, told Reuters he abandoned plans for a London outlet after a recent restaurant opening in Manchester “almost killed” him.

    The decision stands in stark contrast to moves by other well-known chefs who have built up large restaurant empires on the back of growing interest in good food among the UK public.

    Celebrity chef Jamie Oliver, for instance, has opened restaurants throughout the UK and abroad, and has TV series, cook books and merchandise. Other top chefs with large restaurant businesses include Gordon Ramsay, who runs a string of restaurants in London and abroad, and Marco Pierre White, who has steak restaurants in London and other UK cities.

    “I was always determined that I wouldn’t have a restaurant that I would never step foot into,” Rogan told Reuters in the conservatory of L’Enclume, situated in the medieval village of Cartmel in northern England. “How much do you need? How greedy do you want to be? Quality-wise, it’s the right decision.

    “I don’t want to feel that L’Enclume is being neglected, which it certainly felt like to me, because I have been away from it for four weeks now (in Manchester). Although the team here are perfectly capable – you wouldn’t know I’ve been away – I know I am away.”

    Rogan has run a temporary restaurant called Roganic in London for nearly two years, and had been planning to open a permanent outlet that was “a bit more grand” when the lease for Roganic expires in June, before deciding against it in recent days.

    He added that he didn’t want to have to depend on “an army of investors” for a London launch, while funding the move from his existing business “would maybe be to risk what is bordering on what we see as perfection here”.

    “COOKED ABSOLUTELY AMAZINGLY”

    L’Enclume – French for anvil – is situated in a former smithy and is rated Britain’s second-best restaurant, behind Heston Blumenthal’s Fat Duck, in the current Good Food Guide. The two restaurants were the only ones to achieve a top score of 10 out of 10.

    Rogan said he will now concentrate on his outlets in northwest England. At his recently opened restaurant in Manchester, The French, food will be developed to “incorporate the historical element of Manchester”.

    In one recipe taken from 18th century Manchester businesswoman Elizabeth Raffald, he lards veal with fat to make it more succulent before cooking it on a barbecue (Raffald used a trivet in front of an open fire).

    And after eliminating foreign ingredients from his menus around four-and-a-half years ago, Rogan said he was inspired by Raffald to begin using lemons again in a lemon pickle to go with a mushroom ketchup for the veal.

    Rogan, whose techniques also include cooling with liquid nitrogen, said the rest of the world has been “so far ahead” of British cuisine but said TV shows such as “MasterChef” and “Great British Menu” had had a “a massive effect on our food culture”.

    However, it is France, where he has previously worked and where he felt “totally at home”, that he rates “head and shoulders above anywhere else in the world”.

    “I was struck going back to Lyon this year and going into simple brasseries and bistros, by the very simple food cooked absolutely amazingly,” he said. “Beef cheeks with pommes purees, mushrooms … that’s the type of food I really, really love.”

    Among his favorite chefs he names Pierre Gagnaire – “an absolute genius” – while this year he plans to eat at El Celler de Can Roca in Girona, Spain that is run by the brothers Josep, Jordi and Joan Roca.

    Rogan adds that he hopes the trend away from processed food and towards locally sourced, organic fare that has become more popular in Britain in recent years will continue.

    “This is the way I see (going) forward,” he said. “We go that one step further by taking one step back down the food chain, to make sure we’ve got the perfect ingredients in the first place that you don’t have to do much to.”

    (Editing by Paul Casciato)

    © 2011 REUTERS (www.reuters.com)

    The Sweet Spot

    Thursday, April 18th, 2013

    STILL HOPING TO land that eagle? The latest gadgets won’t turn you into Gene Sarazen, who double eagled his way to a Masters win in 1935, but they might just get you from the tee to the green in fewer strokes.

    From the Bushnell neo+, a watch that doubles as a GPS for gauging fairway distances, to TaylorMade’s R1 driver, which helps players hit the ball straighter and higher, new golf gadgets are simplifying the game.

    “They are making golf more fun—because everybody likes a gadget—but they are also making the game easier,” says Steve Burridge, a pro at the Richmond Golf Club in London. “With GPS technology, we now know how far we have to go to the target.”

    Before these technologies came along, Mr. Burridge says, golf players needed to go through a lot of aggravation to figure out the number of yards to the flag. But today, “it is no longer guess work. All we then have do is hit the ball that far.” Here’s our guide to five gadgets to up your game.

    Motocaddy

    The Trolley

    Never break a sweat on the course with the compact folding M1 PRO electric trolley. The latest edition from Motocaddy, it comes with a lithium battery, which means it is both lightweight and has a longer battery life. The trolley also comes equipped with a device cradle to charge your gadgets and keep you connected. Connecting to the ball is a different matter. £399, motocaddy.com

    TaylorMade R1

    The Driver

    Accuracy on the fairway can be a bit like autocorrect on your iPhone. When it’s good, the game’s a breeze. When it’s off, you can end up in the woods instead of looking like Tiger Woods. TaylorMade’s new driver is looking to keep you out of the rough. The new lightweight R1, made of titanium and graphite, has 123 configurations to help players hit the ball slightly higher and a little bit straighter. So you can cry Fore! and mean it. £349, taylormadegolf.com

    The Ping cradle and iPing putter app

    The App

    They say that putting is half the game. But that half meter standing between you and par can feel as long as the Great Wall of China. The new iPing putter app is designed to help close the gap—and lower your handicap. Used with the Ping cradle, clipped onto the putter’s shaft, the app analyzes your stroke to help improve your consistency on the green. App, free on iTunes; Ping cradle, £24.99 at ping.com

    The Bushnell neo+ watch

    The Watch

    Having trouble sizing up a hole? The Bushnell neo+ watch can do the hard work for you. Simply select your course from one of the 25,000 preloaded on this mini-GPS unit, and you’ll get the front, center and back distances to the green. Getting there, though, is up to you. £149, bushnellgolf.com

    The FlightScope X2C

    The Monitor

    Ever wanted to put a number to your swing? Place the FlightScope X2C behind you, tee off and let it track your progress. Mostly used at golf clubs and by pros, the X2C is a portable practice range, monitoring everything from the club speed at impact to the ball’s spin rate and trajectory. Data can then be analyzed on your smartphone or tablet, to help you bring your A game to the next round. £9,594, flightscope.com

    © 2011 Wall Street Journal (www.wsj.com)

    Cook, Illustrated: A New Graphic Novel That Live-to-Eat Types Will Savor

    Wednesday, April 17th, 2013

    Story By: by Glen Weldon

    by Lucy Knisley

    Paperback, 173 pages | purchase

    More on this book:

    Lucy Knisley eats better than you do.

    Face it: she knows more than you about what makes food delicious and satisfying. She’s a former cheesemonger who monged her odoriferous wares with verve and aplomb. She’s spent her life in kitchens, and has developed the skills to prepare meals with passion and something very like grace.

    So, yes: her carbonara is way, way better than yours.

    These are just facts. Accept them.

    If you don’t, you’ll likely waste the first few minutes you spend reading her charming comic-book memoir Relish: My Life in the Kitchen with a chip on your shoulder. Which is understandable: You’ve been burned in the past, after all, on foodie memoirs that stink of pretension like durian fruit stinks of … um, stink.

    Here’s the difference. It’s a small but crucial one.

    Lucy Knisley isn’t a food hipster. She’s a food nerd.

    Which is to say: she doesn’t lecture. She enthuses.

    Her knowledge of food isn’t an excuse to lord her expertise over others. It’s a means to connect with them, to get them to understand why she loves what she loves — and, maybe, to get them to love it, too.

    Relish contains a series of stories from Knisley’s life in the culinary world, from being toted along as a young girl to her mother’s job at the first Dean and Deluca, to her own experiences in the Chicago food scene. These are broken up by some of her favorite recipes, lovingly illustrated and annotated in her bright, cartoony style.

    Consider this two-page spread, for example, in which Knisley effectively sits the reader down to talk about cheese, in all its splendor. Note the tone — cheerful and excited, never pompous or condescending.

    And if the notion of illustrated, annotated recipes has you thinking of the adorable, rustic-country, calico-colored world of cookbook maven Mary Engelbreit, rest assured that Knisley’s sensibilities run considerably less twee.

    Take this page, for example, illustrating her first real awakening to some of the more grisly realities behind her evening meal.

    Note how completely in control she is of her cartooning, how off-handedly she adapts her style to the narrative. That panel on the upper left is — to me — laugh-out-loud funny every time, in the way she so ruthlessly distills the surprise and horror of that moment into a perfect, saucer-eyed take. Ditto the sidelong glance she gives the angelic-seeming dog in the fourth panel, shielding herself from an unpleasant memory by folding herself into a defensive crouch.

    But then, in the final panel, she expresses the unadorned pleasure of a delicious meal simply, giving herself the faint smile of expectant appreciation we Live-to-Eat types know so well.

    And do understand: This is a book for avowed Live-to-Eat types. If you count yourself among us, you’ll enjoy Knisley’s guided tour through the world of her enthusiasms.

    But if, on the other hand, you’re an Eat-to-Liver (heh) — one of that benighted lot of mere subsisters who can read an article about eating nothing but a mysterious bean-based gruel called Soylent (LET’S AGREE THAT IS A PROFOUNDLY DISQUIETING NAME, PEOPLE) and think, “That’s for me!” — you should pass this book by. The rest of us will be over here, give her Huevos Rancheros a try.

    Oil, Chavez And Telenovelas: The Rise Of The Venezuelan Novel

    Tuesday, April 16th, 2013

    Story By: by Marcela Valdes

    by Romulo Gallegos, Robert Malloy and Larry McMurtry

    April 12, 2013

    Everything changed when Caracas erupted in riots and looting in February 1989. After the so-called Caracazo, University of Connecticut professor Miguel Gomes explains, “Everyone opened their eyes. They didn’t think they belonged to that kind of Latin American country. And then Chavismo came.”

    Chávez upended the old state system that fiction writers depended on for income, firing staff and importing intellectuals from Cuba. His monetary policies also made it expensive to import books, which forced booksellers to look for novels closer to home. The upshot: Venezuelan fiction boomed with major new works by authors like Federico Vegas, Francisco Suniaga, Ana Teresa Torres and Slavko Zupcic. These days, says critic and journalist Boris Muñoz, Venezuelan fiction has “opened up to find a bigger audience, through noir novels, historical novels, without renouncing its own Venezuelan idiosyncrasies.”

    Marcela Valdes was a founder of Críticas, the English-language magazine devoted to Spanish-language books. She is now serving her second term on the board of directors of the National Book Critics Circle.

    Among the most important writers of this new wave is Alberto Barrera Tyszka. His first novel, The Sickness, is a swift, piercing story about a doctor who must decide whether to tell his own father that he’s dying of cancer. In 2006, it became the first Venezuelan work to win Anagrama’s coveted Herralde Award for the Novel. Since then, it has been translated into six languages. In England, it was a finalist for The Independent‘s foreign fiction prize.

    Chávez may have indirectly spurred the resurgence of Venezuelan fiction, but his officials have also kneecapped Venezuelan novelists abroad. Translator David Unger told me that at the La Paz International Book Fair in 2006, he was stunned to hear Venezuelan officials announce that they would not sell books at the event because they opposed the commercialization of literature. Venezuela was the fair’s featured country; it had brought authors to Bolivia to participate in the fair’s panels as well as some 25,000 books. Yet rather than sell those copies to the editors, critics and translators who could help bring attention to Venezuelan authors, officials hauled the books to the streets of La Paz and to the impoverished town of El Alto, where they gave them out for free. Many were snagged by book pirates.

    “It just seemed like this typically absurd moment in Chavazean reality,” Unger says, “where you think you’re giving books away to ‘the people’ who are mostly native Bolivians who can’t read Spanish, and all these sharks went up there and sold them and made a lot of money.”

    That may be why in the past several years two separate delegations have traveled from Venezuela to Guadalajara, Mexico, where Latin America’s most important book fair is held every fall. One delegation is organized by the government of Venezuela. The other is assembled by Venezuela’s new clutch of independent publishers. “We finally have a strong literature,” Roche says. “This market is very slow, but I’m positive that [the translations] will come.” Until then, as Venezuelan critic Antonio Lopez Ortega says, Venezuela’s fiction will remain “the Caribbean’s best kept secret.”

    10 Venezuelan Novelists To Know:

    In the course of reporting this story, I was told about more than 30 Venezuelan writers who deserve to be better known in the United States. Only a handful of them have been translated into English. Below you find a list of ones who are making their way into my personal library because their novels sound too good to pass up.