Johnny and the King

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As a lifelong lover of football I’m glad to see and hear the back of the US Soccerbowl shenanigans and malarky.

It all started with a sick-making schmoozefest when Johnny Infant gave a shiny new toy he’d just created to the King of the Nation of Dumbfuckistan.

Bit parts were taken up by neighbours Mexico (who know the game) and Canada (who make a reasonable pretence). But it was centre stage for the self proclaimed centre of the universe to show what contempt for the rest of the world looks like.

A game of quarters was invented so that income generating ad breaks could take priority over a format that has been cherished by the rest of the world for more than 150 years.

Then Johnny brazenly bends the universal rules at the behest of King Fuckwit. A red card with automatic suspension is itself suspended for a year (whatever that means). A futile attempt to help the almost mediocre home nation. Justice is seen to be done when the home of the pissing boy statue (Belgium) obliges by doing just that to Dumbfuckistan.

All that was needed then, to complete the diabolical insult to the game we love, was an extension of the universally enshrined half-time to accommodate more Dumbfuckistanary.

Oh, we have that covered, chirped infantile Johnny. Another key definer of the beautiful game is bent and twisted to meet the ugly demands of ignorance in power.

But Juno, why boycott the beautiful game just because lipstick has been added to a pigs lips, I hear people say. Surely you’re depriving yourself of something you love, the crowd try to remind me.

Until we speak again, the personal challenge to boycott the American shitshow is successfully completed. No minutes watched throughout a whole World Cup. The first time since 1978 (when I just happened to be a student with no access to a TV). A tournament which by the way included Argentina in the final against a European team… somethings don’t change, except for the identity of the victors.

Over there in Barrytown

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“They do things very strange.” Or so the Steely Dan lyrics from the 1974 Pretzel Logic album suggest. My recent post Performative Pizza might be taken to imply a similar message. Or, how about creating a permanent light display in a short road tunnel, Why not? [Photo credit: Rachel Kinchin].

My childhood in Cardiff involved regular visits to Barry Island. After all, it was the local seaside place. Sandy beach, funfair, dubious Butlins Holiday Camp, strange beachside stone arcades with cheap versions of doric columns, soggy chips that even the seagulls shunned.

Why on earth would you bother stopping a mile or two short for the nondescript charmless Barry, or the boring pebble beach of Cold Knap? Then, as know-it-all teenagers we would conjure up our own versions of the reality implied by the Steely Dan lyrics.

Fast forward several decades: questionable development of some wisdom, maybe; or at least, valuable guidance from my new Barry correspondent. Suddenly, the strange things they do in Barry town are more than worthy of investigation.

Goodsheds includes a quirky line of shipping container like boxes arranged to resemble the carriages of an old steam train. Ironically, or maybe not, located close to the 1960’s graveyard for so many British steam engines. Now it’s a mix of interesting little independent shops and eateries. Quite unlike anywhere else, maybe [Photo credit: Yvette Clark].

Beneath the dockside apartments, at ground floor level art of a different kind. A range of pictures of shops and coffee places decorate empty retail premises. At least it gives a superficial impression of bustling business. Who said Barry was just a place of illusion?

One of the few that are open, in prime location looking down the length of the dock, is Craft Republic. A note to its craft ale origins, but as much a reference to a sense of the Independent Republic of Barry!

On the High Street, that isn’t a High Street as you’d recognise it today, a Craft Republic spin-off is MOR Wines – a wine shop that also functions in limited hours as a very good wine bar. This is a High Street of small local community premises that give this place a unique feel, most unlike standard High Street fayre of so many other places.

The local community feel of so much of contemporary Barry also opens its doors to international cuisine, in the form of the Usta Turkish Restaurant. This just happens to be a not-so-hidden gem at the point where Barry island or Cold Knap become an actual decision (but don’t tell anyone; we don’t want to have to book a table because of elevated demand!).

The Sucuk, Babaganoush, Lamb Shish & Mixed Shish are all done to a quality that makes you want to come back, just to be sure it really is as good as you first thought.

That Turkish red wine wasn’t bad either. But save some space for MOR, if it’s still open after your meal. They have a range of reds or whites by the glass to make you embrace the art of falling over later.

Until we speak again, they also do a good line in moonshots and sunsets over in Barry town, or more accurately, Cold Knap (sourced from my Barry correspondent):

Smak Ukrainski

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No, that title isn’t a further command from the Fuhrer in the Kremlin. Smak Ukrainski happens to be something you really should do the next time you happen to be in Krakow in Poland.

Whilst many fabulous Polish restaurants were tried and loved, I simply couldn’t resist an opportunity of my first Ukraine culinary experience.

We seem to be struggling and stumbling to fully support their fight for survival against a vicious aggressor. Yet, it turns out they are supporting us in quite delicious ways. The following is just a selection from the full menu…

Plums with Bacon turns out to be something of a sweet and sour taste explosion that leaves your pigs in blankets thrashing about in the proverbial…

Then there is the option of Potato Cakes & Goulash with a side of Young Fried Cabbage. Meat and two veg will never be the same.

But, if Ukraine cuisine came as a pleasant surprise, that was nothing compared to the first discovery of Ukrainian red wine.

After perusing five pages of Georgian wines I was already in liquid heaven. Then the final page delivered up the beautiful surprise.

The dry Merlot instantly opened my eyes to a hitherto unexpected source of the desired nectar. It’s smooth and bold enough to open up peace negotiations with anyone. Well, probably not with intransigent psychopathic Russians.

Until we speak again, it seems Ukraine has a high class offer for us. It’s about time we reciprocated with more than the current warm words and promises.

Solidarity

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A visit to Gdansk provides a stark reminder of what Solidarity meant in troubled times across 1980’s Poland. The Solidarity Museum in the heart of the old shipyards bring back memories of when Lech Walesa was international news, and principles and truth meant something to liberal leaning democracies.

It seems that nowadays, as the King of Dumbfuckistan reeks havoc across the world in pursuit of total narcissism, Solidarity is a long forgotten idea. Perhaps it now means little more than a shared moment over capuccino and cake.

Fortunately, Gdansk now has that covered.

Until we speak again, if you feel the state of the news is rather depressing, wasn’t it always thus? Find your own act of Solidarity, even if it is little more than a coffee.

Performative pizza

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Going to Italy doesn’t guarantee you an excellent pizza. But going to Barry does…

Yes, it’s that Barry. The more interesting half of the UK comedy show ‘Dickhead & Stacey‘ (the Welsh half, not the English half). For US readers the UK ‘Gavin & Stacey‘ show involves that Gavin/Dickhead you’ll remember as the Brit hosting one of your talk shows… why did you send him back here??

Anyway, I digress. Take one wood-fired pizza oven (as demonstrated above), one genuine Italian family business, local punters who wish to ignore the mediocre hoard of chain pizza joints.

It’s a Friday evening on Barry High Street, hunger building, step up to the plate: Paletta Pizzeria. Without a reservation, we were lucky to bag the one remaining table for two available.

Authenticity is quickly guaranteed as the order of a Salmone pizza (provola, fresh mozzarella, ricotta, black olives, rocket, topped with smoked salmon) and a Maiale pizza (tomato, fresh mozzarella, pepperoni sausage, salami, cooked ham) arrive, with that smoky wood-fired aroma and fresh ingredients.

I’ve had some excellent pizzas in Italy; my all-time favourite used to be the former Casa Lina in Rochester, UK. But Barry on the south Wales coast can claim its spot at the top table of pizza magnificense. An Aperol Spritz & Nero D’Avalo red wine set off the food just right.

Not being a usual dessert type, my companion reminded me that Italians know their stuff beyond just pizza & pasta. So, a Panna Cotta and Tiramisu just had to be sampled, with great coffees, to complete that fully authentic experience.

Until we speak again, don’t let on, as it appears Barry is one of life’s quiet corners of performative excellence. The building hunger was triggered by a couple of hours a few doors away at Mor Barry Island Spirits & Wine Bar. An interesting wine shop with a limited hours bar and occasional special events of the liquid persuasion.

Between us we managed to sample an excellent Cabernet Franc, Pinot Noir, Rioja and Malbec. Simply fabulous.

Georgia on my mind, again

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No, I’m not thinking Ray Charles, as great as he was. And no, I’m definitely not thinking of a state in the world’s newest despotic nation. The Georgia on my mind here is new and located in Wales… and no, I’m not talking yet another embarrassment on the world rugby union stage either. This Georgia on my mind is a fabulous new addition to the cuisines available in the heart of Cardiff.

Georgian food doesn’t seem to be widely available on my travels (though post 489. ‘Georgia on my mind’ outlines a first encounter in Riga, Latvia). And did you know… Georgia just happens to be the oldest wine producing region in the world… so what’s not to like here.

Genatsvale has only been open since summer 2025, and on a quiet Thursday afternoon it provided the perfect setting for two people sharing a love of all things Georgia. The menu displayed outside the entrance already establishes authenticity… why succumb to dumbing down to the bland repetition of so many town centre eateries when you can have something genuine and different.

The wine list also testifies to a certain confidence in what they do… you’ll not find anything that isn’t originally sourced in Georgia… and those 8000 years of practice shine through in today’s bottles! That Qvervi Saperavi bottle just happened to be the most expensive of four reds also available by the glass… very important as you realise time is gently passing by and one bottle just isn’t going to be enough to do it justice.

As for the food, well there is the essential Georgian dumplings… the Kinkhali, made with a variety of fillings. We went for the beef & pork and the lamb (chicken and vegetarian options are available). Don’t forget to ask the waiter how to eat these things, or life might get a little messy. And be prepared to wait, and sample that wine, because these delights are prepared to order…

Pkali was something I hadn’t heard of before… large enough balls of pate in four flavours, but forget everything else you’ve experienced in life and just let the beetroot version take you to somewhere else altogether.

But even that was surpassed by the delicate balance of tastes involved with the Mushrooms in ketsi. The mushroom and melted cheese might just recalibrate your taste buds in ways you never thought possible.

And, getting back to that Qvervi Saperavi… somehow 5 or more hours seemed to pass by in no time. Yes, good company invites a sense of a complete loss of time, but good wine smoothes the whole process in ways that a cup of tea never seems to be quite enough.

Until we speak again, Georgia is on my mind. Ray Charles might well be talking about a place that fortunately stood up to the bullying of the Chief Narcissist of Untrustworthy Land, but I’m currently very interested in a very small plot of real estate right in the centre of my own city. Now, if anyone could also play that grand piano in one corner of the restaurant…

Aparatus of the State

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On a further visit to the incredible city of Berlin it was time to focus more time on the old east side.

Visiting the DDR museum gives a general picture of daily life under a dictatorship, particularly shortages of what we in the west saw as basics of good old consumerism.

Then there were the ‘incentives’ of such things as artificially cheap housing. But nothing came without at least a subliminal message of menace.

But it’s the Stasi Museum that truly brings home that chilling effect of the ‘Aparatus of the State‘.

Who’d have known that a job with the Government came with essential perks such as snitching on your neighbours, listening in on phone calls, bugging apartments. Even breaking in to apartments just to move items of furniture around… well, how else is paranoia going to foment.

Special departments were even set up to check on the loyalties of fellow employees.

In the end certain freedoms became too much to resist and contain. The greatest emblem of the aparatus… the Berlin Wall also needed to come down. Though fortunately, a lengthy strip remains as the East Side Gallery… the largest outdoor art gallery in the world.

Until we speak again, the Wall conveys many important messages that we’ll do well to remember… particularly in the deranged times of Trump trampling over basic civil liberties at home and across the world.

Hwyl meets hygge

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Its February. Its cold. It feels like its been wet forever. So what… here in Cardiff the traditional hwyl of Wales has been amplified with a splendid addition of hygge from Denmark…

Brod (pronounced Breuhl so I’m reliably informed) has been here in the city and Penarth for coming up to 10 years. Leafy Pontcanna is the longest established, followed by Penarth, and more recently on James Street in Cardiff Bay. All are supplied by their own bakery in Rhymney.

Okay, so I’m not one of the world’s early adopters. But, I have to say, on this occasion, I admit I’ve been missing out on something.

First, there’s the delightfully named Mad Brod for a lazy Sunday morning breakfast treat. A soft, light bread with this version covered by bacon and brie. [Today’s Observer newspaper helpfully provides proof of life, so to speak 😂]…

Alongside the Mad Brod, the above photo also includes a sweet version of proper Danish Pastries… this one being a Ginger, Rhubarb and Custard Spandauer. The following is the stanard-bearer Custard Spandauer from a previous visit (believe me, you really don’t just make one visit to Brod 😍).

If hygge is a Danish form of cozy, contented warmth on a winter’s day, it combines well with the Welsh sense of hwyl being a welcoming sense of joy in the moment. How better to relax and enjoy those quieter, slower moments in life.

Until we speak again, if you want a Danish pastry you really need to go to a Danish bakery and coffee shop. Those things our home-based bakers and supermarkets call Danish pastries… just aren’t by comparison.

The sourdough bread looks pretty good as well 😋

NOLA: UK-style

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With all the antics of the King of Dumbfuckistan in Washington DC, supported by his Mental Agility’s Gone Away (MAGA) movement, my regular visits to NOLA simply had to stop. So, it was to my great delight on a current trip to (proper) York that I find NOLA has come to me…

With an upstairs restaurant and occasional downstairs jazz venue, the New Orleans essence is there to be fully experienced.

On the menu, right out of Louisiana, we have Jambalaya, Gumbo, Cajun Monkfish, and Creole Dirty Rice…

Creole Brioche Bread Pudding can only be accompanied by the classic Sazerac cocktail…

And yes, a few jazz classics sublimely finish off the perfect vibe…

Until we speak again, the only let down comes when you leave the venue, luxuriating in the many wonderful New Orleans memories… to step into a cold damp January UK night.

Berlin remembers, do we?

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100 years on from the Weimar Republic, Berlin has much to remember. From Weimar to Third Reich to a divided city to the Fall of the Wall. Has any other city witnessed, experienced, suffered, and emerged from so much in such a relatively short time?

One woman immortalises the changes in a statue that is calling out for peace before the Brandenburg Gate.

The most significant remembrance surrounds the plight of Jews, in Berlin and across Europe. The Jewish Museum in the West Kreuzberg district is a Daniel Libeskind design, most disorientating in architecture, as its floors and walls disobey the builders spirit level. But its content is a creatively laid out history of Jewish faith, culture, and history.

For a particularly deep chill, spend a minute or two in the dark and claustrophobic Holocaust Tower…

However, for heightened emotion the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe provides a space for reflection and imagination. The undulating topography accommodates a dense array of grey concrete pillars of differing heights…

Walk deep into the sculpture and be immersed in your own thoughts. Then visit the enclosed museum beneath the sculture for heartbreaking personal accounts of the effect of the Third Reich across Europe.

On the site of the former Gestapo Headquarters now stands an open air monument to the history of division in the city, running alongside a remaining fragment of the infamous Berlin Wall. Known as the Topography of Terror, it depicts the major changes of the last 100 years, and horrific consequences of those changes.

The division of the city is particularly well represented in the Friedrichshain district of old East Berlin. Here is the longest fragment of the former wall. At 1 mile in length it’s considered to be the world’s largest open air gallery. East Side Gallery is a feast of modern art. What better way to democratise a former harsh symbol of division…

Until we speak again, Berliners have shown a remarkable capacity to remember its tragic recent history with vibrancy and humour. 100 years on from the ugly emergence of the Nazi Party in Germany, is the rest of the world once again failing to learn the lessons of history?

With the Chief Narcissist of Dumbfuckistan in Washington buddying up to Psychopath One in the Kremlin, and the rise of populism in every western nation, we need the current day messages from Berlin more than ever before.