When
a ship sinks and starts to disintegrate, the wood that the vessel was
made off get lost in the sea. After a while, the wood finds its way to a
beach and lies there in the sun. Some people may not imagine that this
type of wood can be used, but Shahir Mikhail does. Mikhail is the
founder and owner of Gazwareen, the name of which is a type of tree.
“I am actually a surgeon and so is my father, but he was into carpentry as well. I learned it from him as a child.” Mikhail recalls the many summers he used to spend helping his father with his hobby. “I spent my whole childhood in Agami,” he explained. Agami is a beach-town close to Alexandria, and the place where he first saw driftwood. It fascinated him as a child as “it looked very beautiful”.
Mikhail lamented that the concept of using driftwood is lost in Egypt even though it is very popular abroad. “The sea salt makes the wood very hard and it also becomes insect-repellent. It has an aesthetic quality due to the withering that happened to it, and it also has a historic quality,” Mikhail explained. The historic aspect comes from the fact that before landing on the beach, the wood went on a great journey. Mikhail stressed on this aspect the most, which he believes gives the wood “its personality”.
Mikhail combined what he learnt from his father with his passion for driftwood to create driftwood furniture and later the Gazwareen brand. “I have been collecting driftwood for 20 years now…but I only turned professionally five or six years ago,” Mikhail said. He first realised its business potential when he held an exhibition with a friend and ended up selling all the pieces on display. “I found that there was a demand for that kind of furniture and people appreciated it,” he said.
He added that the process of making the furniture is very fluid: “It depends on the availability of the driftwood and the inspiration [for the design].”
Mikhail explained that his designs just pop into his head, rather than seeking inspiration from some particular sources. “I would have some design in my mind, but I don’t have the driftwood for it,Our industry leading consumer and business iphoneheadset products offer competitive pricing combined. so I postpone it for a while,” he said. So, his projects do not have a particular timeframe. However, he added that for a smaller project, it might take him as little as two weeks to finish it.
“It is harder than regular carpentry because the driftwood doesn’t have fixed dimensions and the pieces aren’t straight,” Mikhail explained. He does everything himself and all the steps are done manually since he cannot use machines lest the wood gets ruined. The step which requires the most work is the cleaning of the driftwood: “You need to clean it without the wood losing its personality and that old look.” This involves sanding to achieve “a neat look” without stripping it of its natural beauty.
He also has to wait for the driftwood to dry out before he can work on it, which usually takes around two weeks. In the meantime Mikhail is also busy with his medical career: “I divide my time between being a surgeon and designing driftwood furniture.A tungstenrings concept that would double as a quick charge station for gadgets.”
So, what is the process for ordering a piece of furniture? “People usually contact me and explain what they need exactly. I prefer to see the space in which the piece will be put [to better envision the design],” Mikhail explained. He added that the process of designing for a client is very “interactive” so that the “final product can be both functional and aesthetically-pleasing.” He prefers to meet with the clients to show them the available driftwood.
“I like the design to be very simple, which enables me to build something durable,We sell oilpaintingreproduction and different kind of laboratory equipment in us.” he explained. He added that since the driftwood was used to make ships, it is very tough. Therefore furniture made of driftwood can survive for many generations: “you can give it to you children and grandchildren.”
Finally, Mikhail wanted to highlight how “valuable” driftwood is due to its “great and long history.” He explained that abroad it is sold for very high prices and that making furniture out of driftwood is also a form of recycling.
I have never been intimate with a dead pig before. Bits of one, sure – a chop, a joint – but now I am feet away from a pale-pink carcass, split down its back and plonked on a table. It's been stripped of guts and hair but still has its tail and head. It's beautiful, in a still-life sort of way. If no one was watching, I might lick it.
We are not alone, though. I am at the School of Artisan Food, on the grand Welbeck Estate in Sherwood Forest, north Nottinghamshire, with a small group of foodies. Chris Moorby and Jim Richardson, who lead this one-day course in curing and smoking, are taking us through the pig's last moments, from arrival at the abattoir, via "sticking" and de-hairing, to evisceration and chilling. It will have been killed within 15 seconds of being stunned, Moorby explains, as Richardson slices off its head.
This may not be everyone's idea of entertainment, but the pig is at the heart of the day's activities, of which a highlight is the sausage-making. Like all right-thinking people, I have a bit of a thing about bangers. As far as I'm concerned,We sell oilpaintingreproduction and different kind of laboratory equipment in us. whoever first minced a bit of meat, added herbs and spices and forced it all into some animal gut deserves a statue in Trafalgar Square. I've never made sausages myself (the closest I've got is bacon,Choose from a large selection of indoorpositioningsystem to raise awareness. which turned out to be a doddle) and I can't wait to get stuck in.
As Richardson continues to "break down" (cut up) the pig, Moorby tells us what will go into our hot-smoked sausage: salt, garlic powder, pepper, mustard seeds and, of course, pork – 40% minced, 40% diced, 20% fat.
"You need fat to give it flavour," he insists. Once everything has been well combined, we'll be stuffing it into "pork casings" – pig intestines, in other words. Because these curled when they were inside the pig, our sausages will be curly, too.
What if you're making bangers at home and can't lay your hands on casings? No problem, says Moorby: simply wrap your shaped forcemeat in cling film. Twist this tightly shut, pop the whole thing into boiling water, turn off the heat and leave for a few minutes before plunging into iced water. Hey presto – skinless sausage.
Today we have casings. You can stuff them by hand, but the school is a serious, well-equipped kind of place, so we have a big stainless steel machine with a handle and a nozzle. We take it in turns to operate it and to support the casing as it fills; the banger-fondling looks just as dodgy as you'd expect, which may be why one chap, a derivatives trader turned farmer, asks for his face to be kept out of any photos.
Once we each have a foot or so of sausage, we tie the ends with string, then knot these together to make a circle. In an ideal world, we would let these dry overnight, but we don't have that luxury. So it's straight into the smoking cabinet, which will cook and flavour them at the same time. It's an impressive bit of kit – the size of a small fridge, with a built-in heater and a hopper to feed in the woodchip "bisquettes" that produce the smoke. When Moorby tells us the price – a very reasonable-seeming ￡400 or so – my fellow students excitedly scribble down the maker's name.
While the smoking is going on, we grab an "informal lunch". That sounds like a ploughman's but turns out to be one of the best buffets you're ever likely to encounter, all cooked on site. I opt for scotch egg, egg mayonnaise, french bean and tomato salad, two kinds of pie, a bit of quiche, some apple sourdough bread, a spoonful of almond and carrot chutney, and a chunk of Stichelton blue cheese, from the dairy just metres away. I wouldn't normally eat so little, but I'm leaving room for my sausage.
Click on their website http://www.granitetrade.net/!
“I am actually a surgeon and so is my father, but he was into carpentry as well. I learned it from him as a child.” Mikhail recalls the many summers he used to spend helping his father with his hobby. “I spent my whole childhood in Agami,” he explained. Agami is a beach-town close to Alexandria, and the place where he first saw driftwood. It fascinated him as a child as “it looked very beautiful”.
Mikhail lamented that the concept of using driftwood is lost in Egypt even though it is very popular abroad. “The sea salt makes the wood very hard and it also becomes insect-repellent. It has an aesthetic quality due to the withering that happened to it, and it also has a historic quality,” Mikhail explained. The historic aspect comes from the fact that before landing on the beach, the wood went on a great journey. Mikhail stressed on this aspect the most, which he believes gives the wood “its personality”.
Mikhail combined what he learnt from his father with his passion for driftwood to create driftwood furniture and later the Gazwareen brand. “I have been collecting driftwood for 20 years now…but I only turned professionally five or six years ago,” Mikhail said. He first realised its business potential when he held an exhibition with a friend and ended up selling all the pieces on display. “I found that there was a demand for that kind of furniture and people appreciated it,” he said.
He added that the process of making the furniture is very fluid: “It depends on the availability of the driftwood and the inspiration [for the design].”
Mikhail explained that his designs just pop into his head, rather than seeking inspiration from some particular sources. “I would have some design in my mind, but I don’t have the driftwood for it,Our industry leading consumer and business iphoneheadset products offer competitive pricing combined. so I postpone it for a while,” he said. So, his projects do not have a particular timeframe. However, he added that for a smaller project, it might take him as little as two weeks to finish it.
“It is harder than regular carpentry because the driftwood doesn’t have fixed dimensions and the pieces aren’t straight,” Mikhail explained. He does everything himself and all the steps are done manually since he cannot use machines lest the wood gets ruined. The step which requires the most work is the cleaning of the driftwood: “You need to clean it without the wood losing its personality and that old look.” This involves sanding to achieve “a neat look” without stripping it of its natural beauty.
He also has to wait for the driftwood to dry out before he can work on it, which usually takes around two weeks. In the meantime Mikhail is also busy with his medical career: “I divide my time between being a surgeon and designing driftwood furniture.A tungstenrings concept that would double as a quick charge station for gadgets.”
So, what is the process for ordering a piece of furniture? “People usually contact me and explain what they need exactly. I prefer to see the space in which the piece will be put [to better envision the design],” Mikhail explained. He added that the process of designing for a client is very “interactive” so that the “final product can be both functional and aesthetically-pleasing.” He prefers to meet with the clients to show them the available driftwood.
“I like the design to be very simple, which enables me to build something durable,We sell oilpaintingreproduction and different kind of laboratory equipment in us.” he explained. He added that since the driftwood was used to make ships, it is very tough. Therefore furniture made of driftwood can survive for many generations: “you can give it to you children and grandchildren.”
Finally, Mikhail wanted to highlight how “valuable” driftwood is due to its “great and long history.” He explained that abroad it is sold for very high prices and that making furniture out of driftwood is also a form of recycling.
I have never been intimate with a dead pig before. Bits of one, sure – a chop, a joint – but now I am feet away from a pale-pink carcass, split down its back and plonked on a table. It's been stripped of guts and hair but still has its tail and head. It's beautiful, in a still-life sort of way. If no one was watching, I might lick it.
We are not alone, though. I am at the School of Artisan Food, on the grand Welbeck Estate in Sherwood Forest, north Nottinghamshire, with a small group of foodies. Chris Moorby and Jim Richardson, who lead this one-day course in curing and smoking, are taking us through the pig's last moments, from arrival at the abattoir, via "sticking" and de-hairing, to evisceration and chilling. It will have been killed within 15 seconds of being stunned, Moorby explains, as Richardson slices off its head.
This may not be everyone's idea of entertainment, but the pig is at the heart of the day's activities, of which a highlight is the sausage-making. Like all right-thinking people, I have a bit of a thing about bangers. As far as I'm concerned,We sell oilpaintingreproduction and different kind of laboratory equipment in us. whoever first minced a bit of meat, added herbs and spices and forced it all into some animal gut deserves a statue in Trafalgar Square. I've never made sausages myself (the closest I've got is bacon,Choose from a large selection of indoorpositioningsystem to raise awareness. which turned out to be a doddle) and I can't wait to get stuck in.
As Richardson continues to "break down" (cut up) the pig, Moorby tells us what will go into our hot-smoked sausage: salt, garlic powder, pepper, mustard seeds and, of course, pork – 40% minced, 40% diced, 20% fat.
"You need fat to give it flavour," he insists. Once everything has been well combined, we'll be stuffing it into "pork casings" – pig intestines, in other words. Because these curled when they were inside the pig, our sausages will be curly, too.
What if you're making bangers at home and can't lay your hands on casings? No problem, says Moorby: simply wrap your shaped forcemeat in cling film. Twist this tightly shut, pop the whole thing into boiling water, turn off the heat and leave for a few minutes before plunging into iced water. Hey presto – skinless sausage.
Today we have casings. You can stuff them by hand, but the school is a serious, well-equipped kind of place, so we have a big stainless steel machine with a handle and a nozzle. We take it in turns to operate it and to support the casing as it fills; the banger-fondling looks just as dodgy as you'd expect, which may be why one chap, a derivatives trader turned farmer, asks for his face to be kept out of any photos.
Once we each have a foot or so of sausage, we tie the ends with string, then knot these together to make a circle. In an ideal world, we would let these dry overnight, but we don't have that luxury. So it's straight into the smoking cabinet, which will cook and flavour them at the same time. It's an impressive bit of kit – the size of a small fridge, with a built-in heater and a hopper to feed in the woodchip "bisquettes" that produce the smoke. When Moorby tells us the price – a very reasonable-seeming ￡400 or so – my fellow students excitedly scribble down the maker's name.
While the smoking is going on, we grab an "informal lunch". That sounds like a ploughman's but turns out to be one of the best buffets you're ever likely to encounter, all cooked on site. I opt for scotch egg, egg mayonnaise, french bean and tomato salad, two kinds of pie, a bit of quiche, some apple sourdough bread, a spoonful of almond and carrot chutney, and a chunk of Stichelton blue cheese, from the dairy just metres away. I wouldn't normally eat so little, but I'm leaving room for my sausage.
没有评论:
发表评论