Horses and Mud
Connie’s show was cancelled yesterday. Pretty much everything in Hampshire that required walking on the ground was cancelled yesterday, so far as I can tell: Vicky, who knows everything that happens in Hampshire, Kent, and Surrey* said that this is the first time in a hundred years that the Alresford show was cancelled, which is one of the big Hampshire fairs. The local hunt comes and gallops around going ta ta ta on their hunting horns and a few renegade hounds shoot through the audience to the audience’s delight, and there are lots of shiny primped critters including huge gorgeous heavy horses, and this year they were going to have a Ghurkha regiment doing something or other, and there are always long tents of various contests, flowers and cakes and so on, and speaking of cakes, foooood including all the things that the menopausally challenged most need to avoid, and there are lots and lots of other stalls selling everything you can think of and stuff that hadn’t occurred to you yet. And even in good weather by afternoon the ground is wrecked, it’s only a question of whether it’s a dry dusty wreck or an elephants’ mud-wrestling wreck. I don’t get to it every year ** but when I do go I come home with pockets and knapsacks stuffed full of flyers and samples. One year I bought a cardigan because I was freezing to death, and besides, it had really cute buttons.
The Burghley Horse trials went on, however, mud and torrential rain or no:
http://www.horseandhound.co.uk/news/397/267212.html
. . . I have just wasted an incredible amount of time trying to force a link for this vivid photo of mud at Burghley that the Observer published today. The Guardian/Observer search didn’t want to produce the article at all and when I finally outsmarted the suckers–yaaay***–and pulled the article up . . . it didn’t have any of the photos in the newspaper article, and it did have some other photo entirely. Which was not of Burghley mud. Arrrrgh.
However, I give you this, which since we know they’re both okay (keep scrolling, it’s a series) you can wince over comfortably:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1053043/The-moment-Zara-Phillips-flung-headlong-horse.html
. . . which was almost certainly caused by mud. Poor old Zara: she is having a proper run of rotten bad luck.
But, while we’re on the subject of horses, this was in the Guardian the end of last week:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/lostinshowbiz/2008/sep/05/celebrity2
Perhaps my jaw drops easily, but . . . pink hoof varnish??† Apparently Ms Celebrity-for-being-a-celebrity was launching her interesting line of paraphernalia at Burghley which is a pretty lurid piece of brass neck right there. Why don’t I think William Fox-Pitt will be one of her greatest fans?
Meanwhile, in other important horse news†† Rebecca WinkleBeam posted a day or two ago that the effing Spanish Riding School has accepted two women for the first time in its back-to-Xenophon-year history. Some of you will also remember growing up knowing that as a girl you will never be admitted into the Spanish Riding School††† and what a trauma it was in your young life.‡
http://www.austriantimes.at/index.php?id=8477
And speaking of having to hunt links down with a pack of hounds and a large net, this one–which is to say any one–was absurdly difficult to find. Finally cornered it in the back of a dark cavern by googling ‘Lipizzaners’–not Spanish Riding School, not Spanish Riding School Vienna, not Spanish Riding School accepts women, not . . . well, not. But it finally reluctantly turned up as being about Lipizzaners. I wonder if this means they’ll also start using mares as well as stallions?‡‡
The less-good news there is that both the female general director and the female president of the board are against it. Huh? And I particularly like their media drone saying, presumably with a straight face: “There were female applicants in the past but none of them have matched our requirements.” Uh huh. In 430 years no mere woman has lived up to the Spanish Riding School demand for excellence. Cynics (and Rebecca) are saying that the fact that the Spanish Riding School is in financial trouble may have something to do with their suddenly waking up to gender tolerance. Although I don’t envy those women, and I hope they’re tough as old saddle leather, as well as breathtakingly brilliant riders.
But I’m fifty-six years old, and it’s true I’m planning on living a very long time‡‡‡ but by the time I jump over the edge of this life and back into the great wheel of karma again, I would like there not to be any lingering bastions of traditional ridiculousness left to storm.
And, speaking of storm. . . .
* * *
* And possibly Wiltshire, Dorset, Berkshire and Sussex
** I tend to remember the parking and decide I have plenty to do at home.
*** I’m feeling the need to succeed at something computery just now. Finale is still winning. Tomorrow morning I ring Oisin and beg for some instructive time.
† Nail polish, to you Americans.
†† I hope you understand the importance of horse news.
††† Which is not entirely a bad thing, since you then didn’t have to get into questions of talent and lack thereof.
‡ Which frequent rereadings of Marguerite Henry’s White Stallion of Lipizza kept fresh and soppy.
‡‡ Yes, I know, but it can be done. There are competition stallions out there that don’t lose their minds when there’s a mare in season in range. And the Riding School horses are nothing if not very highly trained.
‡‡‡ I have way too many books left to write
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Eeek! That sign gave me the shivers!! I’m Secretary for our local Ag show and our show is less than 6 weeks away (oh hell). Since I have been Secretary we haven’t been washed out. But we are in drought. In 1993 there was a huge flood though town and I think the level through the showgrounds was nearly 2m. It was 2 weeks before the show. All the pavilions were damaged and had masses of silt and debris. The office, which is easily 1m above ground level had nearly a metre of water through it. All the ribbons were soaked but heaps of other damage. The then secretary rang the state governing body and told them that the show was cancelled. “Are you SURE you have to do that?” she was asked. Yes. Very sure.
Last year we didn’t have horses at the show due to an EI outbreak and it was so sad not having the main arena full. This year they will be back! Hooray!
****** but . . . pink hoof varnish??
No wonder the poor pony looks stunned!
LOL We had a horse present at the pre-ride check for an endurance ride with sparkly varnish on her hooves. I think she had pink ribbons in her mane and tail too. She is a Little Miss. ::giggles::
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If she passed, and is in good nick and did well, I kind of think she can be/look/do anything she likes. :)
If she passed, and is in good nick and did well, I kind of think she can be/look/do anything she likes. :)
Oh yes! She is a great endurance horse. :) And she is a dappled grey so she looks fantastic in hot pink! LOL
Yes I was just thinking that Connie would look good in pink. . . . But I think Jenny would KILL ME. :)
Please don’t do it to Connie, puhlease! (Although if given a couple of large apples, I bet she’d be more than happy)
Do WHAT??
Don’t stop at pink. Go for magenta.
Magenta is good. And what they call ‘port’.
Argh, sorry the show was canceled. Stupid sogginess. *shakes stick at it*
The show sounds like it would have been lots of fun, too. When I was younger, my mom used to do lots of craft fairs (she does ceramics and jewelry, and is just starting into pottery); lots of my childhood was spent wandering around hot (they were always hot in Texas, except when they were rainy!) parks, trying to make my allowance laaaast until the very end of the day. Fun times.
And oh, yes, the food. That’s where I discovered funnel cakes. Do they have those in England? *dies, thinking of powdered sugar overload*
Oh, funnel cakes! No, I don’t think so . . . no, no, NO I do NOT want to find a recipe!
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Oh, funnel cakes! No, I don’t think so . . . no, no, NO I do NOT want to find a recipe!
Hah! If only I had one, I would send it to you. (Because I’m meeeeaaaaan.) Fortunately for you, I’m still learning my way around my own kitchen.
I’M SO RELIEVED. :)
I had to google “funnel cakes” to know what you were talking about! Interesting.
“Meanwhile, in other important horse news†† Rebecca WinkleBeam posted a day or two ago that the effing Spanish Riding School has accepted two women for the first time in its back-to-Xenophon-year history. ”
I will make no comment as to Xenophon (yes, I know he wrote books about horses, and I have read two of his histories, but I find him a very prissy writer and BORING), but in my increasingly combatant feminist guise (I was always fortunate enough that I could consider myself post-feminist, but have come across enough glass ceilings, exclusion zones and sexist behaviour that I have now amended that designation), I have to say that I view this very, very cynically indeed.
Austrian male strongholds tend to remain Austrian male strongholds. The EU forced them to accept women in the Vienna Philharmonic. The practice now is to accept them (auditions are behind curtains so have to be impartial), put them on the standard “probation” and then make sure that they are never “good enough” to escape that probation. They never are “accepted”. Even when they are scandalously good. I fear me this is what will happen with the Spanish Riding School. The EU has strict all-inclusive guidelines in place, particularly if they are taking EU money, which they probably are, but no rider will be “good enough” even now. I hope that time proves me wrong.
On a different note, I hope all those who are suffering with the weather see blue skies and have no damage, or only minor damage to deal with, and that sshunt is doing well with her poor leg. We’re thinking about you.
Finally, to end on a frivolous note, I see so many recipes that I haven’t had time to cook (also baking in the heat takes a certain amount of decisiveness) and I feel I should get around to posting something soon or else my name will fade and my honour die, but it’s mostly salads at the moment. I might end up posting my latest variation on a Cretan tomato and rusk salad. A sort of Cretan pappa al pomodoro, but not.
As someone whose menopausal battles are hitting a peak of misery, I’d be VERY GLAD of some interesting salads.
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In response to that cri de coeur I sat down and wrote out the recipe for Dakos. Then I realised that you don’t eat tomatoes, cursed myself and wrote out the marinated zucchini recipe. They both follow, as I know not everybody else here is anti-tomato. The vagueness is deliberate, as quantities depend to a great extent on the quality of the ingredients and personal taste:
Kritikos Dakos
This is something that is also known in Greece as koukouvagia (which means owl) for reasons that remain unknown to me. It is a Cretan dish with variations arising throughout the Aegean Islands because it is a poor man’s food. In its basic form it consists of a paximadi – a common form of preserving bread in a twice-baked rusk, which can be made with any kind of sourdough bread: wheat, corn or rye being the most common and are easy to find in Greece, but very difficult to find abroad. A quick google search gives me:
http://www.greekproducts.com/b2b/cgi-bin/b2b.cgi?db=b2b&temp=b2b&icn=none&begin=1&display=10&prid=tsiknakis
which at least provides a visual, although I don’t know the specific make.
So a Dakos is something between a salad, a sauce and a salsa which you pile on top of the paximadi, and top, if you so wish, with crumbled anthotyri, a fresh crumbly sheep’s milk whey cheese. Sometimes you see it topped with feta cheese but this is not authentic. (You can also top it with crumbly chevre cheeses, which is also not authentic, but very delicious).
The ingredients then vary but most varieties have tomato, red onion, garlic (lots of people omit this but I love it), olive oil and oregano. Quantities depending on the people eating and their appetites and whether this is a main meal or a side dish.
The main ingredient is tomatoes and it has to be very ripe tomatoes. Not sugary, mushy tomatoes, but the kind of tomato that spills its juices out all over, and if cut for a salad is sitting in its juices within a couple of minutes. These can be treated in two ways, depending on preference and the actual state of the tomato. If you can cut it, dice it into a medium dice. If you have a food processor you can trust not to mush, cut it into chunks and pulse quickly a couple of times. If it cannot be cut at all, slice in half and use the thickest grater you have to grate all but the skin into a bowl.
Depending on how you have treated the tomato, treat the onion and garlic: Chop or grate.
Mix together, pour olive oil on top, season with salt and pepper and rub some nice oregano over the whole. Spoon the mixture over the paximadi (making sure the juices soak into the hard rusks) and crumble the cheese on top of that and/or add olives, the small tiny Cretan ones, that are the size of your smallest fingernail.
That is the basic dakos. There are variations. My latest variation, for the end of summer harvest tomatoes we currently have, with quantities for two people as an evening salad (which I have accompanied by a hard boiled egg or some cold cuts or leftover ratatouille) is as follows:
2 large paximadia or six bite-size ones
1 large very ripe tomato
6 tart cherry tomatoes
½ a small red onion
1 clove of garlic
4 tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil or more
Salt and pepper to taste
¼ teaspoon sweet smoked Hungarian paprika
1 tablespoon oregano
1 tablespoon thyme
Dice the onion and finely chop the garlic (don’t use a garlic press – the taste is different). Place into bowl, add the olive oil, salt and pepper and paprika and allow to marinate while you cut the tomato (and a bit longer if you can – I find Greek onions much milder than those in the UK and much more flavourful than those in the US. Marinating them takes a bit of the bite away). Dice the large tomato and cut each cherry tomato into sixths, cutting once in half and each half into thirds. The cherry tomatoes add a pit of texture. Mix into the onion. Rub the oregano and thyme over the mixture and stir (rubbing the herbs makes sure there are no little tough bits but also helps release their essential oils). Let it sit for five minutes and then pour over bite-size paximadi portions (or if, like me, you’re lazy just dip the paximadi bits into your bowl). I am currently not using cheese, but you can.
And one for you: easy, simple and delicious and no tomatoes:
Marinated raw courgette.
1 courgette (zucchini), peeled and sliced into strips using a vegetable peeler
4 tablespoons of olive oil
zest and juice of one or two lemons
fresh thyme
handful of roasted (and I underline roasted) pine nuts.
Marinate the ribbons of courgette in the lemon juice for half an hour (or as long as it takes to prepare the rest of your meal, whichever comes first). Add the olive oil and sprinkle over with the roasted pine nuts and fresh thyme.
The crunch of the courgette and the sharpness of the lemon contrast beautifully with the buttery taste and texture of the roasted pine nuts.
Absolutely gorgeous. Thank you!!
*laughs* I love the utter doominess of that soggy sign posting. “There is nothing you can do. Go back! Go back! Save yourselves!”
Also I would like to officially (you’re official, right?) register my horror at that monstrosity of Hooker Barbie and her tarted up pony. That’s just vile. I’m learning to be okay with pink IN ITS PLACE, but that’s waaaay too much.
(am trying to figure out how to make my name here on WordPress link to my blog, like some on here have. Is it just your normal html programming [a href and all that] or do I have to do something fancy special?)
Ask Blogmom!
. . . Well, I have pink leather gloves, which I consider tack for humans. :)
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Well there is pink, and there is pink. And this seems to be a vile Barbie doll / Pepto-bismol pink, instead of a hot, Bengali pink, or a pepper pink or even a flamingo pink. I like some pinks, just as I do some reds, as clothes or as accessories, but it really depends on the shade.
Well, it’s also context! My favourite All Stars are pepto-bismol pink! :)
sorry about the fair being canceled [turn on really big hair dryer] we just had our fair her for labour day. for once it didn’t rain on one of the four days . my husband and i shared a funnel cake with icing an it and it was out of this world.how come everything tastes better at a fair.
Hats off to you for finding the link that I gave up on!
Sorry about the rain. Urg. Do you also have the mud that sticks to your boots and shoes until they weight 5 pounds more?
And I love the sign. ‘show abandoned’ I always smile when I see a sign like that. (although yes, the message is horrid, the wording amuses me.)
My favorite sign in the world I saw in London: “No Dog Fouling” I still laugh when I see that picture in my photo album.
R.W.
Yes, there are ‘show cancelled’ signs too but ‘abandoned’ is so much BETTER.
Oh, the famous Hampshire clay! When I used to run I had to keep STOPPING to knock ten pounds of clay off my shoes. . . . At walking pace you can kind of keep waddling. :)
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Yes, send that woman to Afghanistan. What an excellent idea.
THANK GOD!!!
i’m 52 now, but when i was 15 i visited vienna (1971+-) and immediately fell in love with the SRS and its classical dressage. i tried in EVERY WAY POSSIBLE to attend the school. naturally i wrote the director, then the american ambassador to austria, then the austrian ambassador to the united states, every dignitary or celebrity who had visited the school and was pictured in books or newspapers petting the horses… even the president of the usa!
nothing helped.
i hardly got any responses.
those that did respond said there was no way to help me.
at the time there was no internet, and dressage was not yet popular in the united states.
i could find no one of any quality to teach me.
since i read in podhajsky’s book that it was better not to ride at all than to develop bad habits, (of which i already had PLENTY from my hunter/jumper instruction), i eventually gave up riding altogether while in search of a teacher.
there was nothing else i wanted to do with my life, but it was the early 1970′s, i was young, and my resources were very limited.
time passed. as the years quickly passed it still remained my unrequited dream to attend the srs, and as i became too old i began to hope that young women would be admitted to the srs IN MY LIFETIME.
as i’ve aged i’ve begun to fear that i might not see it in my lifetime.
and so, it has finally come to pass.
i am so grateful that no other young girls with passionate dreams will be turned away ‘just because they are girls’.
i feel a great gratitude that no other girls will go through what i went through.
i’m sure the girls who go to the srs will ‘do us proud’!
i was not able to go, but i will experience it through the girls who are going now! i will “live it”, with pride, through them!
wendy axel
w15608@aol.com