Posh Cheese on Toast aka Pizza Bread

Ok folks. Here's a David speciality;

Posh Cheese on Toast

• Bread (preferably a baton or even a round bun)
• Tomatoes (regular, dried or sun blushed- the choice is yours)
• Peppers (green, red or yellow- your choice)
• Chili pepper (again- any old colour will do- if ya like spice)
• Onions (if ya girlfriend likes 'em)
• Sweetcorn (optional)
• Courgette (optional)
• Tomato sauce (either chopped and reduced over a heat or pre-made to your taste) or Pesto (green, red, whatever)
• Cheese (chefs choice- I like mozzarella and a pale sliced cheese)

Slice bread in half. 

Spread tomato sauce or pesto or both over the surface liberally.

Chop and fry onions, courgette, peppers (both kinds).

Lay slices of cheese on top of sauce base (thick or liberally-cheese fans).

Lay veg over cheese.

Place on tray and grill.

Once the bread is near toasting, add mozzarella and replace on heat until melted and covering your heart attack inducing meal.

Then, enjoy.

Optional extras include basil leaves and mint leaves.

Can serve with salad if required.

Note: even meat lovers will enjoy this.

pre-toasted.

Crusty Feet

Despite my physical repulsion, today I sat reading and accidentally observed male beautification. In this instance I was not witness to beard trimming, hair combing or even nose poking. No. Today I observed a forty-something bric-a-brac salesman (hat on head, moustache on face, cigarette in mouth) slicing away (with the experience of a man his age) at his sandal crusted heels with a rather large pocket knife. Sadly, my photo is from distance and fails to capture his method and full regalia.

Arabic food makes David huge

Over the last 2 1/2 months, I- David Wing, have been engaging in strenuous exercise.

Said exercise has manifested as running. Running around a park- initially until I gave up through exhaustion, fatigue and frustration, later 'til I bettered my previous outing and more recently, until I finished 5 Kms and a few sprints.

Now, all that hard work and sweat has been undone.

It has been replaced by a bloated belly, meat sweat and a strong odour of garlic and onions.

Nirlei (Clarissa's Mum), Clarissa and I, having paced around the block for twenty minutes while awaiting opening, attended an Arabic restaurant this evening.

We set down to taste the lamb based sensations that were available within.

The first course- Humous, garlic dip, chopped onion/tomato, etc and flat bread.
The second course- what you see below.
The third course- baked beans with lamb, rice, lentils, roll-mops (don't ask me why?)

I now waddle where I used to stride/run.

I believe I am now part lamb, part man. Lambman if you will.

I enjoyed it immensely and expect I may again, shortly.

Inspector Clouseau

Rounding the corner of one of the many hilly, grid patterned, Porto Alegre city streets, I damn near ran into Inspector Clouseau.
He was grey, old and short, wearing a black trench coat (despite brow perspiring heat), black rimmed-thick glasses and a black hat.
He stood there, across the street, on the corner, smoking a white tipped cigarette and seemingly ignoring life and me along with it.
He was clearly distracted- possibly contemplating his next case?

On this day, I was left to my own devises. Clarissa was at a conference of the remarkably smart doctor variety and I decided (taking my bearings first-as I tend to get lost easily) to have a wander for a couple of hours.

This is what I saw;

A lingerie store in the stable of the Poundland shops (advertisements featuring large bottomed women were prevalent in bold billboards above the shop).
A book store, that seemed to sell English language literature (to be visited in full later in the week).
Numerous shops selling all the Gaucho regalia one might require.
The Cathedral of Our Lady, Mother of God-Porto Alegre;

(apologies for the finger in the top left corner-photography lecturers, I apologise)

Inside this middle to large Cathedral, wooden chandeliers hung, pillars towered and people knelt and prayed at the alter. Coming from a country laden with religious institutions, I had not expected quite so much grandiosity. I'd read a little of the history of Brasil, circa 1500's and the Portuguese influences on architecture, but this building blended the regal and the pauper where I had possibly just expected less.

Down the road hung this;

 
I'll tell you more when I re-investigate.

A few days prior, Clarissa, her father-Cezar and I found ourselves shopping for Cezar's present for Nirlei's birthday. This involved a two hour trek through one of the many shopping malls of the greater PA area. To her credit, Clarissa was fast. Yes, she did insist on seeing every store in the mall, but she was direct and swift with it. I, for my part, stood outside and hummed, while Cezar interacted- offering his opinion (sometimes accepted) and taking part as much as possible.

When the task was completed, we decided that a brief snack was called for.
This involved a trip to the food court.
Now, the food court's in PA are rather extensive. Variety is everywhere. Chinese, Japanese, McDonalds (of course), pizza and everything else you might want.
We opted for Bob's Burgers.

For the America readers, you may very well be familiar with the animated series of the same name- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n846puzM9h0&noredirect=1

Back, when I lived in Sheffield, I occasionally reviewed films, events and restaurants for a city guide site-http://www.itchycity.co.uk/
Were I still reviewing for them, this would be much like my review of Bob's Burgers;


Waiting in line at the funnily named Bob's Burgers takeaway, one can only wonder and wait. 
Wonder- where is the service?
and 
Wait- when will I be served?


Much like any other burger 'joint' and specifically styled on the mega successful McDonalds chain, 'Bob's' would seem to employ the most laxidasical of staff members. Seeming to find umbradge at the mere thought of serving, nay, looking at the customers. After standing with Clarissa and Cezar for five minutes, I took a seat, after standing for another five minutes-Cezar took a seat. After standing for another five minutes, Clarissa took a seat (having stared at our server to negate any risk of intentional or unintentional spitting), but with our food. 


We hadn't ordered much; Fries x 3 and Coke's x3 (we were eating that night to celebrate Nirlei's birthday and simply required a little bite). The fries were salty beyond measure and the Coke's lacked something...what was it??? Oh yes, FIZZ.


Our servers had failed to look at us, take our order inside of 10 minutes (a definition of 'Fast Food' might be required) and provide us with a meal that satisfied to any extend other than to delay the hunger pangs and rumbles.


In short- Bob's Burgers, not worth your time or R$s.

Thankfully, our meal was delightful. We attended a buffet restaurant that served slatherings of meat to your plate (pork, steak, sausage, etc) and had all the filled pasta's you could eat. We drank, a lot. We nearly sang. We laughed...at me Inglezinho. In short, we had a superb evening. 

Beer

This evening Clarissa and I enjoyed a beer.

To enjoy said beer, we required a bottle opener.
Not being an ordinary couple, we used the opener that was on hand.

There are few occasions I have had cause to open a large bottle of Quilmes Argentinian beer, but on this occasion, I did it with a penis.

This particular penis was fashioned from wood (insert joke here) and made use of two screws (insert further joke) to lever the cap from the neck.

I now fully expect and look forward to this two person cry ringing out in our home on a regular basis...

'Want a beer?'
'Sure, I'll grab ya cock!'

Good Nights friends.

Brasilian News

A few days ago, we awoke to turn on the local TV channel- SBT to see a live feed of a car languishing in the Porto Alegre river. Seems the car must have dove off the road at high speed and now resided, 'waist' deep in the water. We watched as two men in rescue uniforms and carrying Baywatch bouys waded through the grime and grey to the white 4x4 that sat, quite steadily, awaiting salvation.
The men peered through the windows and slowly meandered around to the driver side.
I stated that there couldn't possibly be anyone inside for two reasons,
1- the car was only half submerged- no one could drown in that.
and
2- the rescuers would be more frantic in their efforts had there been a driver inside.

I was wrong.

A moment later, the men pulled from the car-'Live' on TV, a man, dressed in typical 'car robber' clothing, who was not moving. Moreover, he was very stiff. I posit that he had driven too fast, having stolen said vehicle, dove off the side of the road, hit his head, been rendered unconscious and as a result, died of hypothermia.

This all at 7.30am, live on telly. Yeesh!

The next night, on the same TV channel, we heard about a robber who had invaded a 90 year old woman's home. She had metal bars on her door, that in itself would have deterred me, but Brasilian robbers seem a little more willing to go the extra mile.

This robber should have taken the hint. Pensioners in this country are tough.
The following night we were treated to not only a retelling of the home invasion by our elderly protagonist, but a CGI re-enactment as well.

Seems Mr Robber had forced his way into the apartment and attempted to steal our old dears things and stuff. Our old dear, being quite sprightly for a lady in her 9th decade, duly reached for, took aim and fired her revolver pistol at Mr Robber.

The result?
Death.
Mr Robber ain't robbing no more.

Our 'hero'/survivor recounted her story while the CGI video played and I must say, it did wonders for her appearance, taking years off her. She looked awfully like a twenty-something girl, slim and fleet of foot.

The only detrimental after effect of the attack?
The old dear had arthritis and as such her trigger finger was bandaged. Well, she did plug away three or four times. She didn't do things by halves.

Moral of the story; Don't rob in South America!

In other news, I saw Ronaldo again yesterday.
He's gotten shorter, but his teeth are just as recognizable.

We also saw, or rather, he stared at us- Morgan Freeman.
He was sitting at the cafe on the corner and stared directly at Clarissa.
He wore a grey beard and white Panama hat. Very dapper we both thought.
If only we'd gotten a photo.    

Boyfriend/Girlfriend Day

So, it's Boyfirend/Girlfriend Day- a lot like Valentines Day, but named more specifically.

This requires, as all good boyfriends/girlfriends know, numerous declarations of love and adoration, usually a fancy meal in a restaurant in the evening (but as we're broke, I shall be creating the girlfriend's favourite- Veggie burgers for lunch), a card (I sent an email-smooth, I know), flowers and chocolates (she ain't really a fan, so I'm making her favourite-Cheesecake, on the weekend).

Clarissa is quite likely to read this post, so I shall take this opportunity-

Clarissa, eu amo tu.

I first met you over 12 years ago and since then I have truly never stopped thinking about you.
You stared through me, over a camp fire in Munich and since that night I have been lucky enough to see your face whenever I close my eyes.
This is our first of many Boyfirend/Girlfriend Days together and I mean to make it as joyous as you make me.

Eu amo tu x

Black Bean Soup

Looks a little like chili from this photo (not actual Clarissa food photo).

Now, I'm not saying that I put too much salt in the soup.
I'm not saying that someone else put too much sugar in (accidentally and then added salt to amend the flavour either, but,
if that had happened, I'd suggest lots and lots of bread to soak and a fair bit of water.

That being said, it was lovely. A good job too, because you don't make a small amount of Black Bean soup, you make enough for...well, a week.

Remember to lightly or heavily (depending on your pallet) sprinkle with grated cheese and enjoy with generous helpings of Game of Thrones. Delightful.

Here is a recipe for Black Bean Soup.
Please remember that you can 'pimp' it all you like, but we stuck with the veggie option- beans, pasta, cheese, etc...

Don't forget to soak ya beans over night and a little longer for good measure. They need to be soft!

http://smittenkitchen.com/2010/01/black-bean-soup-toasted-cumin-seed-crema/

Meyer vs Vonnegut

Today I saw the only other man-let alone, person, reading in the park other than myself I had seen since I've been here.
Certainly a sight.
Brasil as a nation has a real issue with illiteracy, but this fella- white of hair, mid-late thirties, wearing a hoody and trainers looked less the A-typical illiterate and more the middle class day trader you might expect to see in an affluent area such as ours.
Not that success in Brasil really makes the difference . In our apartment block live elderly Jewish folk and thirty-something year old business types. In the streets outside, two doors up lives a drug addicted homeless women.
Affluence and poverty seem almost hand in hand here.

The fella reading even had the same ringtone as me (not surprising, I stuck to the bring-bring noise out of apathy rather than choice) and were it not for the language barrier (though I'm getting better), I might have sat closer and even attempted to engage him in conversation, but, having seen from distance the the familiar looking cover to his book, I decided against it. 'Twilight' in any language is still 'Twilight'!

I felt a little lame the other day. I gave up or rather, set aside the book I was reading- The Death of Artemio Cruz by Carlos Fuentes and gravitated to an old friend- Kurt Vonnegut (Jr)- Deadeye Dick this time.

There's nowt wrong with Fuentes, in fact, I was really enjoying it, it's just so literary! I enjoy that a lot too, but sometimes it's too taxing when you're sandwiching in reading and have to pick up and set down novels after all of a few pages. Try it. Try it with someone else, how about Marquez! That mother's got literary verve out the wazoo and I guarantee you're not gonna follow him when you've got so little time to invest at a stint.

I've read over a dozen of Vonnegut's works and it's always so witty and self depreciating. Like Bukowski, but less smeared in alcohol of varying quality and sexually transmitted diseases.

So far, I'm liking it.

Our running is getting better and with the encouragement of my girlfriend I have begun sprinting towards the end of our 2.5 Km laps of the park. Run, sprint, jog, walk, pant and initially there was some collapsing and shortness of breath. Now, it's better.
Olympics here I come!
2016 maybe.

I just looked over to observe the most common of birds, the pigeon. It's not a bird I think much about (I have a friend who paints 'em and indeed, is quite fond of 'em...I'm less enthralled), certainly not as a Englishman who's seen his fill and not as an Englishman in Brasil.

I now regret looking...it just shit.

The weather's changed.
Last week- warmish, t-shit and jeans.
This week- cold- jumper (jacket if ya a wuss) and jeans.
Two months in Brasil and the British weather has finally caught up with me.

Anyway, tomorrow's a holiday. We're possibly off to a German town called Gramado (spelling subjective) about an hour and a half away.

Will keep ya posted.

Dogsitting

For the next week I shall be playing babysitter to these two...pests.

The boy (black) is called Luke.
The girl (white) is called...actually, we never got her name. I'm open to suggestions. Currently she's being referred to as Snowy.
Unsurprisingly, she fails to respond to her new name.
They are so very, very playful.
Day three is now here and after day 1: pee on David, day 2: pee and poo on the rug, we were hopeful that day 3 would reap less damp/smelly rewards...more fool us. Day 3: poo and pee on rug, again.

Around a week ago, a fella named Cesar came to the dog park where we were exercising Joca and asked if anyone might help him. Seems his mother had to move into his one room apartment and as such, there was no room for the dogs.

Clarissa gave him her number and advised of a dog shelter she volunteered with- 101 Mutts (http://www.101viralatas.com.br/). Sadly, they have no room for a while, so, being the soft touch she is and being the easy going fella I am...we agreed to temporarily house Dastardly and Muttly.

This mean't that Pricilla and Joca had no go on holiday to Niki and Cezar's house.
No big issue, they love it there and get to play with the other seven dogs.

You've never laughed so much as when you've borne witness to a petite, white haired dog in a pink and crystal dress mounting her larger, male friend from behind. Wuss!

I wasn't entirely sure an artists impression would suffice on this occasion, so here's a photo. The blurring goes some way to suggest the vigorous nature of the act.

Yesterday, while roaming in the park I saw Jesus.
Grey and black trousers, white shirt, long brown/black beard and a lady at her side. Well, it is the 2000's.

So, to recap:

Santa last week.
Jesus yesterday.
Tomorrow...the Easter Bunny?

Following an outing to the 'BIG' supermarket, we decided on a new brand of coffee. Technically, I decided, but to amuse me, Clarissa allowed for 'Good Jesus'- Bom Jesus.

It's pretty rotten stuff. Toasted-apparently, burn't-most assuredly.

In addition, the inclement weather has led to one of our four chili plants taking a turn for the worse. As a result, I am now endeavouring to create chili olive oil. Fingers crossed it infuses.

Excuse me, I'm English

My observations thus far have revolved around the more positive aspects of Porto Alegre and it's people. I have mentioned the poverty and homelessness in places, but on the whole, nice stuff.
Not so much today.

Mainly this rant regards manners or rather (and this is shored up by Clarissa and her family) the lack there of.

Walk down the street and if you are not on your guard, you'll likely end up on your arse.
You must pay attention to where you are and where you are going at all times!
Not that any other bugger will mind you, it's all on you to dodge, duck, weave and slip out of everyone else's way.

I've been here approaching two months now and have heard a sum total of two Desculpe's (Sorry's) from other pedestrians. Being a life long pedestrian, I have always had an affinity for my kind. Here, however, they seem a different breed (pun intended).

It might be due to the pace of the city, which at times is frantic, but a common courtesy is not far beyond the reach of your common man or woman.

There also seems to be a haste in supermarkets also. This morning the lady behind me in the queue, though possessing two eyes (both her own), seemed incapable of judging the distance between the front of her shopping cart/trolley and the back of my ankles. She could see I had moved as close to the elderly lady in front as I could (shy of intercourse) and yet felt the need to be either ignorant or rude.

In direct contrast, at the supermarket last night, a tall, young woman with a form of mutism allowed both Clarissa and I to go before her in the queue. We only had a few items, she-rather a lot and despite my English objections of 'Thank you very much, but oh no, you, please, you're very kind', she was adamant that we were to go first. I thanked her with the 'smile and nod' after the sale was completed and left last night, on our way to the cinema with a new found belief in the gentleness and graciousness of Brasilian folk in Porto Alegre. This morning I was once again rudely awakened.  

I'm probably making too much of it.
It's a new city, with it's own rules for conduct and behaviour and as a result, I am trying to integrate into that culture, but bugger me if I'm going to become rude (ha ha).

I was born and raised to be polite and thankful for any gifts, care and opportunities afforded me, whether earned/deserved or not, but I wasn't raised to be ignorant.

I shall continue to be courteous.
I shall continue to apologise if I do wrong.
I shall not become bitter (other than on blog rants).

Thank you very much, I feel much better now.

PS, Pricilla just farted on me...Stop moaning David and smell my present! Thanks darlin'.