Orlando Gough

A few years ago we went with our friends the Seatons on a deeply compromised holiday to a lovely part of south-west Ireland, the Beara Peninsula. The Guinness was good, the countryside luscious, the fiddle-playing frisky – Ireland is, after all, Ireland; but there were drawbacks. Swimming was out of the question as the sea was teeming with jellyfish; we pottered about in a knackered old rowing boat, anxious about the admittedly remote possibility of capsizing. Going for walks was a nightmare, as we were attacked by tics; pulling them out afterwards was companionable but intensely painful, the potential consequences of missing just one of the little beasts alarming. Sitting outside in the evenings was out of the question, since, despite having the use of an ingenious anti-mosquito machine, we were bitten black and blue by the damn things. The natural world was not going to take our holiday-making lying down. We wouldn’t have been particularly surprised if it had rained frogs. 

The jellyfish were, of course, spectacularly beautiful. In a world where most objects are opaque, there is something fascinating about a partially transparent object – a soap bubble, a birdcage, an aquarium, a crane, the London Eye. The structure is on display, and one can appreciate the complexity of it. At the same time, the world behind looks almost to be an intrinsic part of the object, so there is a certain mystery. Staring at one of these gorgeous, disturbing creatures beneath our boat, it was impossible not to wonder: does it have a brain? does it have control of its motion? what’s it for??…


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by TOAST ( 01.10.13 )

The fifth of twelve people, men and women, all of whom in their various ways work with food and all of whom are passionate about what they do. It’s a truism to say there has been a revolution in food – but these twelve have all taken fresh approaches: all have a sense of rootedness and authenticity. It was a great pleasure meeting all of them: from the lovely Jeremy Lee working in a down-to-earth way at his grand and history-imbued Quo Vadis to the three artisan producers at Spa Terminus: extraordinary people working enormously hard at what they love. Our great thanks to them all.

Jane Scotter farms Fern Verrow, a 16 acre biodynamic holding in the foothills of the Black Mountains, producing seasonal vegetables, fruit, flowers, herbs and meat. Every Friday Jane hand picks the best of what she has, packs it with great care in her van and drives through the early dawn to Spa Terminus. In the early morning she lays out her stall – with an attention bordering on love. It looks beautiful, entirely fresh, wholly good. As soon as she opens, those in the know come flocking to procure their week’s worth. Her produce is wonderful, flavour beyond what one imagines possible from what we mistakenly think as everyday English vegetables…


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by TOAST ( 24.09.13 )

James Seaton, Toast’s co-founder and Creative Director has written words to photographs taken by Nicholas James Seaton on our autumn/winter 2013 shoot in Canada.

Over the vast terrain’s undulations, the roads run utterly straight. Thus a flash of sunlight on chrome glimpsed at the horizon will only manifest itself as a roaring 60mph truck some ten minutes later. If you had the time – and there’s plenty of that out here – you could watch its progress as the road dips in and out of sight: its silent progress, the only sound coming from the lazy wind across the wheat stubble. Like watching a meteor or a satellite coursing the heavens. Only in the last few dozen seconds of its approach will its noise, its mass become apparent. It’s a surprise. And then, in a flurry of dust it has passed, the noise quickly fading to silence – and once more there is just the wind, the land and oneself.

In all this vastness of land and sky, one finds oneself quickly thinking – I hope someone comes to fetch me before long. You could get thirsty out here. Hungry. You could be forgotten.


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by TOAST ( 23.09.13 )

The third in a series of pieces written to photographs taken by Nicholas James Seaton on our autumn/winter 2013 shoot in Canada. Each focuses on an element, albeit a new kind of element.

By Evie Wyld.

By the time you reach the cabin, you’ve been on the move for a month, sleeping in bivouacs or, if the weather holds, in the open, nestled in your sleeping bag, the drawstring tight. Your nostrils are raw inside.

Sleeping under a roof, with the air still over your skin, and with the night locked outside – the idea of it fills you with something like warmth – like finding your brother’s stash of easter chocolate when you were a kid – a blissful wrongness. You sit on the steps to unlace your boots- it does not feel right to bring the outside in.

Inside, the air has been kept still a long time. It smells like someone has hidden a small pool of stagnant water somewhere. It is warm though. You pause a moment, weighing up the best thing to do, but then you prop open the door with your boots, and new air rushes in, takes up the dust, licks the walls and throws out the dead air with its warmth.

When you close the door, the cabin is small. You light the fire – left ready to burn by the last guest. People have been here before you, have considered the dead air.  In the morning you will collect firewood to replace what you’ve burned. The first time you have thought of another person in weeks.

The sun has started down and with your boots off you don’t fancy a ramble in the woods this evening. Instead you stare at the fire, listen to the splinter of dry wood. Rather than lighting the lamp, you unhook the board from the window to see the last of the light, but behind the wood is only empty space – no glass, and the wind shoulders in again, snuffing the warmth from the fire. You rehook the window board – you are either inside or outside – no room here for in between.

In the cupboard, the excellent fire builder has left a bottle. You will not be able to replace it, but maybe an offering of sardines or rice – a gesture of good-will if nothing else.The drink coats your throat and makes you for a moment miss company. You wonder about the morality of having more than one glass, and then take the bottle and a chair out onto the dry grass outside. The cabin is for sleeping and until that time comes you choose the trees, the air, the drink and the fading light.

Evie Wyld’s After the Fire, A Still Small Voice and All the Birds, Singing are published by Random House.

www.eviewyld.com


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by TOAST ( 20.09.13 )

The fourth of twelve people, men and women, all of whom in their various ways work with food and all of whom are passionate about what they do. It’s a truism to say there has been a revolution in food – but these twelve have all taken fresh approaches: all have a sense of rootedness and authenticity. It was a great pleasure meeting all of them: from the lovely Jeremy Lee working in a down-to-earth way at his grand and history-imbued Quo Vadis to the three artisan producers at Spa Terminus: extraordinary people working enormously hard at what they love. Our great thanks to them all.

Hidden away in what appears to be a small garage on a quiet residential street in furthest west London are two beautiful copper stills. From this small and discreet headquarters Sipsmith produce their delicious gin, vodka, supper cup et al. The master distiller behind these spirits is Jared Brown, an erudite east coast American, a historian of drink who combines expansive literary knowledge, practical application and great gustatory enthusiasm. He loves his work – as witnessed by the bookshelves in the distillery, where a thousand dusty bottles of obscure and wonderful aperitifs and digestifs are punctured with 18th century recipe books…


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by TOAST ( 20.09.13 )

The third of twelve people, men and women, all of whom in their various ways work with food and all of whom are passionate about what they do. It’s a truism to say there has been a revolution in food – but these twelve have all taken fresh approaches: all have a sense of rootedness and authenticity. It was a great pleasure meeting all of them: from the lovely Jeremy Lee working in a down-to-earth way at his grand and history-imbued Quo Vadis to the three artisan producers at Spa Terminus: extraordinary people working enormously hard at what they love. Our great thanks to them all.

Alys Fowler discovered a love of gardening at her mother’s knee, went on to study at the Royal Horticultural Society, at Kew and, having been awarded a Smithsonian Scholarship, at the New York Botanical Gardens. Raised in the English countryside, she now lives in the city where she has become a great proponent of the bringing of abundant and productive greenhouses to the grey. She grows lots of vegetables mixed in with plenty of flowers in an allotment and an urban back garden…


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by TOAST ( 12.09.13 )

James Seaton, Toast’s co-founder and Creative Director has written words to photographs taken by Nicholas James Seaton on our autumn/winter 2013 shoot in Canada.

on the bluff above the river,
five yards off:
a mountain lion

who was more surprised?

it was away, into the scrub,
forty seconds later crossing the river
three hundred yards away
unseen between here and there

http://toast.co/october2013


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by TOAST ( 06.09.13 )

The second of twelve people, men and women, all of whom in their various ways work with food and all of whom are passionate about what they do. It’s a truism to say there has been a revolution in food – but these twelve have all taken fresh approaches: all have a sense of rootedness and authenticity. It was a great pleasure meeting all of them: from the lovely Jeremy Lee working in a down-to-earth way at his grand and history-imbued Quo Vadis to the three artisan producers at Spa Terminus: extraordinary people working enormously hard at what they love. Our great thanks to them all.

From early spring to late summer Steve Benbow becomes itinerant. We photographed him at Spa Terminus on a sunny late afternoon and, as we wrapped up, he headed off unhurriedly to the Kent coast, the back of his small and aged white van full of sealed hives in which the bees were drowsily objecting to their confinement. Having tended his hives he settled down for the night beside them, returning to town – and more hives – the following morning…


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The second in a series of pieces written to photographs taken by Nicholas James Seaton on our autumn/winter 2013 shoot in Canada. Each focuses on an element, albeit a new kind of element.

By Jon Day.

In his 1885 treatise ‘Physiologie de l’asphalte’, Alexis Martin described the way in which asphalt, then a relatively new element in urban life, was beginning to be read by city dwellers. ‘The manufacturer passes over the asphalt conscious of its quality’ he wrote:

the old man searches it carefully, follows it just as long as he can, happily taps his cane so the wood resonates, and recalls with pride that he personally witnessed the laying of the first sidewalks; the poet walks on it pensive and unconcerned, muttering lines of verse; the stockbroker hurries past, calculating the advantages of the last rise in wheat.

One of the great tyrannies of the modern city is the speed with which road-surfaces are renewed, making obsolete the slap of time. Roads were once democratic spaces, created by the collective movement of generations of travellers. In his poem ‘The Path’ Edward Thomas described a track ‘winding like silver’, worn into the woods by children who, ‘With the current of their feet’ created a monument to their passing.

Now that most roads are metalled, something of the relationship between traveller and path has been lost. Asphalt is shed annually, like the skin of a snake: scraped off with flailing chains, spat out into waiting trucks, and laid anew by machines which resemble combine harvesters. Asphalt suffers from an amnesia unknown to mud and stone. But still it struggles to remember. On city roads potholes remerge perennially, always occupying the same places. The marks of passing buses are recorded as depressions in the tarmac.

We think of asphalt as a lifeless material, as a neutral barrier between driver and landscape. Attend to it, however, and asphalt comes alive. It’s a fickle material, changing with the seasons. Greased with rain it flares with the rainbow splashes of oil slicks. In the winter it becomes sluggish and brittle. The water gets in underneath it and cracks it open. In summer, awakened by the heat, it oozes and begins to flow, at glacier pace, through the streets.

In 1927 Professor Thomas Parnell, a physicist at the university of Queensland, placed a small nugget of asphalt into a funnel before entombing the whole in a bell jar. About ten years later, the first drop of pitch fell through the funnel. Eight drops have plinked into the petri dish so far. The eighth drop fell on 28 November 2000. The next is due imminently.

http://jontday.wordpress.com


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by TOAST ( 04.09.13 )

Jessica Seaton, Toast’s co-founder and Managing Director provides an incomplete guide to Montreal – one of the locations for our autumn/winter 2013 photo shoot in Canada. Photography by Nicholas James Seaton.

Drawn & Quarterly, 211 Bernard Ouest, Montreal, H2T 2K5 – t. 514.279.2221, drawnandquarterly.com & Le Port de Tete, 262, Avenue de Mont-Royal Est, Montreal, H2T 1PS – t. 514.678.9566, portdetete@videotron.ca 

Two Bookshops – One English, One French

It is fitting that bilingual Montreal should have two bookshops of excellence – one English, one French. Depending on your linguistic bias, both are a refuges against the busy day, browsing in peace amongst the calm shelves’ well-edited selections, chosen by their respective, dedicated proprietors.

Drawn & Quarterly is not only a bookshop, but also a publisher with a specialism in new graphic novels, a dynamic scene recently established in Montreal. Here they range alongside a comprehensive selection of arts and music publications, as well as the best in modern and historic literature.

Le Port de Tete is run by Eric Blackburn and his selection includes philosophy and history of art amongst French versions of the graphic novel. His bookshop is beautiful and calm, the spines of the books gently gradated tones of cream and vellum, in the French style.

Lawrence, 5201 Boulevard St Laurent, Montreal – t. 514.503.1070, lawrencerestaurant.com & boucherielawrence.com

We came across Lawrence whilst scouting for suitable shoot locations in the Mile End area and loved it immediately.

Situated on the corner of St Lawrence and Fairmount, the simple graphic on the window, the friendly but self-respecting demeanour of the staff and the calm interior spoke immediately of Lawrence’s modern and serious sensibility. We lunched there later that day and the food did not disappoint – to such an extent that we immediately re-booked for our farewell-to-Montreal dinner the following day.

The owners, Sefi Amir, Marc Cohen (a British-born chef), Ethan Wills and Annika Krausz (a Montreal-born designer) came together to create Lawrence almost 3 years ago. They all share the same ‘nose to tail’ philosophy, favouring organic and respectfully produced meat from small local suppliers, which they also butcher in house. Vegetables are seasonal and local wherever possible – even in winter when the cold of Quebec creates real difficulties in providing fresh local produce.

Since we visited they have opened Boucherie Lawrence a little down the street. This is currently garnering rave reviews by selling the same meat served in the restaurant in the same enlightened and thoughtful way. A worthy addition to the newly-founded Lawrence tradition.

Other places we liked:

Sucrerie de la Montagne, 300, rang Saint-George, Rigaud, Quebec, J0P 1P0 – t. 450.451.0831, sucreriedelamontagne.com

Situated outside Montreal this historic sucrerie still extracts and processes maple syrup from its maple woods. You can enjoy a traditional Quebecois lunch; stay in a little cabin, and in the winter drive through the woods on a sleigh.

Station Epices, 174A West Bernard Street, Montreal, H2T 2K2 – t. 514.274.1514, spicestation.ca

A ravishing-looking spice and herb store in the lively Mile End region of the city.

le Cartet, 106, rue McGill, Montreal, H2Y 2E5 – t. 514.871.8887, lecartet.com

The hip, cool down-towners of Montreal eat brunch and lunch here with their families in this modern, fresh café/bar and store on McGill. The quality of the coffee depends very much on who is working the machine, but the food is good and the ambience enjoyable and modern.

Hotel St Paul, 355, rue McGill, Montreal, H2Y 2E8 – t. 514.380.222, hotelstpaul.com

A modern, comfortable hotel downtown in Montreal. Many of our favourite photographs were taken in close proximity to the hotel and all the team-member were perfectly sustained by the food eaten late, after shooting, in the Ham Bar.

Savoie Fils, 251 Rue St Viateur Ouest, Montreal, H2V 1Y1 – t. 514.507.4092, savoiefils.com

Savoie Fils is a cleverly edited shop selling men’s and women’s clothes, together with maple syrup, good coffee, flasks, penknives and other surprising finds. Worth a visit

And finally a small selection of other places to eat:

Brooklyn, 71 St Viateur Est - t. 514.564.6910 (a mid-century furniture shop, combined with delicious food)

Pied de Cochon, 536 Avenue Duluth Est – t. 514.281.1114 (go with loose trousers – very substantial, but brilliant Quebecoise cuisine)

Café Sardine, 9 Avenue Fairmount Est – t. 514.802.8899 (famous for doughnuts and coffee)

Last week: An Incomplete Guide to Montreal Part I.


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by TOAST ( 03.09.13 )
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