Revered Cuisine

Who could possibly resist Magret de canard roti et sauce aux cerises? That is pan fried duck breast and cherry sauce for the less travelled gourmands among you…

It may well be supremely complemented by a glass of Mouton Cadet Bordeaux, but it is always important to be aware of the derivation of what you eat. On the very morning of this feast I surveyed the environs of my Paris hotel only to be somewhat dismayed by the attraction of the currently topical plastic flotsam and jetson for the local duck population…

But, I was quickly reassured that my wildfowl actually walks on water before adorning my plate!

Until we speak again, remember that only in Paris can we revere that which we may subsequently devour… allegedly!

Cardiff Sharks?

No, it’s not another one of those failed rugby league franchises emerging yet again to demonstrate the wrong way of playing the egg-chasing game in the capitol of the union. It’s more to do with scary visions at 29 degrees, wandering around the neighbouring Bute East Dock on a hot afternoon in Cardiff

While fisherman shelter in their army-surplus rigs on the wrong side of the dock, the creatures of the deep quietly lurk, as if sheltering in natural fjords…

Unbeknownst to the slumbering fisher’s of men from far afield, locally we have developed our own fishing rod technology capable of dealing with the challenge of the Cardiff Sharks

Crane

Then, all of a sudden the calm surface is broken, as if Loch Ness had suddenly relocated 500 miles south…

Fish [3]

Fish [4]

Ducks¬†scramble to take up anything that might resemble protection from what lurks beneath, clearly taking turns at being lookout…

Ducks on pontoon

But for one poor creature, carrying an anchor strapped to your legs is surely going to be an obstacle to survival…

Bird Anchored [1]

Because, if you can’t be fleet-footed or quick on the wing the Cardiff Sharks will know… and then you’re GONE!

Gone!!

Until we speak again, Juno used to occasionally be intrigued by the scent of Cardiff Sharks, wafting on the breeze coming from the direction of the dock.

Plotting an escape

 

 

Tales of the river bank

ducks-at-14-1Some of us are nature loving cats who need to live in a rural setting to feel alive; and some of us are urban cats, but who like to see a little bit of the natural world within our city centres. Juno and Bella were glad I was an aficionado of the latter camp. They would not be short of triggers for the imagination, particularly for dreaming of exotic meals.

Who said this year of Olympic dreams was already over? The Quack Olympics are thriving down at Atlantic Wharf, as the contestants line up on the edge of the water ready for the 10 yard free-style race. For Juno and Bella it is an opportunity for dreaming of being aquatic cats, reclining on their backs just beneath the water, mouths wide open (I know it doesn’t make any sense, who said this blog was about reality?), waiting for tasty morsels to just drop in…

ducks-at-14-2

But, sometimes the opportunity might just be a little too big to manage!

heron-atlantic-wharf

Cautious cats know, that sometimes there is the danger of the hunter becoming the hunted!

grey-heron-2

 

ready-to-eat

 

Until we speak again, Bella might well look ready for dinner, but the local wildlife can rest assured she will only be getting the veterinary formulated science plan (aka ‘rocks’).

On a foggy day

As much as Juno would have a routine of waking me up far too early in the morning, I would usually manage to resist the so-called temptation to get into the world so ridiculously early in the day. But just recently I was drawn out from my cozy lair by the promise of fog coming from the soothing voice of the weatherman through my bedside radio. Yes… strange turn of events indeed; but I had this sudden urge to get out there and experience what goes on in the strange world of early morning fog.

Foggy day [4]

I know what you’re thinking… just a useless camera, a useless photographer, or both. Well you may be right, but I am going to just brush off your critique and offer you the true meaning of a foggy day. What really happens in the murky depths of the cold of the morning?Foggy day [2]

Foggy day [1]

 

 

 

 

 

As Queen said back in 1981 ‘that crazy little thing called love‘. Or, as Juno would have said… until we speak again I have a crazy little matter of breakfast to enjoy!

Existential angst

A strange juxtaposition is occurring down at the water’s edge. Just when the native waterfowl thought it was safe to bask amongst the toxic algae of the once formidable old dock, dual threats emerge to challenge the meaning of their very existence. To be consumed is a given, but by who or what now becomes a battle ground to test out the true meaning of life.

Just when a superior predator of my kind arrives on the scene as the expected feline threat to anything dressed in feathers, I also find myself sharing the bewilderment at the world conquering rise and expanse of Chinese domination.

Ming dynasty building

Is this a Ming Dynasty after-thought we see over-shadowing the once powerful Bute East Dock? A Welsh pagoda style rises out of the depths to house the hot air and wind combination of local government. But the question arises as to whether this source of heat can be converted into another form of culinary energy, somewhat reminiscent of the take-away/restaurant variety proliferating Chinese cuisine the world over?

This has been ‘Culinary Missive’ Juno reflecting a tale of unsatisfied hunger, and until we speak again may all of your ducks be aromatic and crispy!