by Alexandra Roumbas Goldstein

Whoops! Baking blogging is delayed…

I promised cake blogging… and it hasn’t happened yet. But it will. Along with some pictures of the truly astonishing hen do decorations designed and made over several painstaking weeks by the hostess.

In the meantime, I’m doing my day job, which involves sorting out things like setting up a Dogs Trust Twibbon, getting our Education department set up on Twitter, and adding lots more content, images and so on to the new website that will launch one of these days, honest Guv.

Cakes shall return. Oh yes, they shall.

by Alexandra Roumbas Goldstein

Baking Extravaganza 2009 begins… tonight!

Tonight, I shall be mostly baking….

No, that’s it. “Mostly baking”. I have three cake projects and one cookie project on the go for my best friend’s hen do tomorrow. I will document the process photographically but I can’t post anything until after said party for, through the wonders of FriendFeed and RSS and stuff, my friend will see the post before the great veil is lifted! And that would be no fun.

Plus, if any of the projects goes up in flames, I want to be able to disavow all intention of actually having tried it (yeah, this blog post might be a bit of an issue there, huh?).

Ready… set… MIX!

by Alexandra Roumbas Goldstein

Bruges, Bitchin’ and Bladder (Gall)

Stuff has been happening, as is the way of things.

Firstly, I went to Bruges for a long weekend and it was restful and full of food. Photos will flood Flickr as soon as I get around to extracting them from the camera. Lots of cobbles and faux-artistically angled shots of buildings, of course. That, however, lead to my next piece of news which is the beginning of a travel column on BitchBuzz. The working title is Bitchin’ Travel – it might or might not stay that way. I’m starting with Bruges but planning to cover Rome and Athens next, then possibly Barcelona. After that, wherever I think of next that I have anything to say about. Although I’m starting the column, I’m hoping to get talented readers and other members of the widely-travelled BitchBuzz team in on it; obviously between us we have a lot more scope for covering good destinations than one of us alone. Being a transatlantic team doesn’t hurt either.

Links to the column will appear here when it’s up; I’m just tidying up my first post now. I’m trying to catch up on my general writing commitments and widen the net a bit, which is why I’ve also signed myself up as one of a pool of potential reviewers for The F Word, which is pretty exciting too. BitchBuzz, incidentally, has just seen its first anniversary go by. I’m very pleased for the founding editor, Cate Sevilla; her hard work knows no bounds when it comes to her baby and it’s really paid off.

Which leads me to my final bit of news. Which actually has nothing to do with the other two, but which I feel like writing about. I am likely to need my gallbladder removed. I’m seeing a specialist on Monday; the gallstones were actually discovered accidentally while I was being diagnosed with Epstein-Barr (call it glandular fever, or mono, if you prefer) but since then there have been symptoms, etc. Anyway, the point is there are great balls of bile and cholesterol blocking up my gallbladder, and the big medical guns need to decide whether to hack out the little bagful or not. Frankly, I’m all for it – don’t need it, don’t want the symptoms to degenerate into a full-scale attack (which they’re pretty likely to). We shall see.

And that’s pretty much it. But feel free to fill me in on what you’ve been up to.

by Alexandra Roumbas Goldstein

My first Disney visit: 1984

Magic Kingdom, 1984

Magic Kingdom, 1984

Picture it, Orlando, 1984.

Disney had cemented its utter takeover of central Florida. The other attractions were still scrabbling to make a presence, Epcot (then EPCOT Center) was barely two years old and post-70s optimism was on the up. And there I was, four years old, utterly transfixed by the afternoon parade.

The Magic Kingdom, to my young eyes, was quite simply the most magical place on Earth. Although I’ve since transferred my allegiance to Epcot somewhat, I still literally squeal with delight when pulling in to the Disney car parks and preparing to board the monorail to the Transportation and Ticketing Centre. That look of gobsmacked immersion has never quite left me – I’m sure if anyone had taken a similarly candid photo when we were watching the Spectromagic Parade in April this year I would have looked similarly entranced (and, admittedly, gormless).

There’s a reason why people are so utterly Disney-mad. And for me it all exists in the picture above. I still have the personalised Mouse Ears somewhere…

Magic Kingdom, 2009 (taken by me)

Magic Kingdom, 2009 (taken by me)

#disney

by Alexandra Roumbas Goldstein

But she can’t be one of them…

Ashley and I went with his best man and his wife to kosher stalwart Solly’s this evening. The restaurant’s beginning to take the piss a bit, with poorer service and smaller portions of side dishes (though typically delicious huge main courses), but that’s by the by. There was a couple sitting at the table behind our friends. I paid them not the slightest bit of notice but Ashley was clocking their behaviour…

I habitually wear a cross, generally my late maternal grandmother’s silver cross. It’s not particularly big, but being metallic and unusual in that part of town (in spite of the Greek Orthodox Church across the road) it probably does attract attention. Apparently the couple opposite were turning round to quite openly stare at my chest repeatedly. At first Ashley wasn’t sure why – I suppose because he’s used to living with my religious paraphernalia, as I am with his various kippot, chanukiah and mezzuzah which we really ought to get around to re-sticking by the door one of these days. After he twigged, however, he began to get annoyed. He thought about saying something, but being, like me, naturally non-confrontational, was ready to just roll his eyes and forget about it.

He ended up smirking.

As the couple paid up and left, he heard the man commenting as he headed out of the door: “But she looks so Jewish!”.

Love it.

by Alexandra Roumbas Goldstein

Shiny Media is dead! Long live Shiny Media’s writers…

This is one of those rare occasions where I feel I need a disclaimer for a post. And here it is:

Between March 2007 and March 2008 I worked for Shiny Media, briefly as a freelancer and then as the full-time deputy editor of major title Shiny Shiny. At no time did I have any financial or editorial disputes with the company, and I left to challenge myself in a more marketing-orientated role specifically in the charity sector, not because of any problems at Shiny.

I’m not going to link to articles about Shiny’s demise. I understand that there are people who are upset and unpaid – I suspect the folks in charge do not blame them for their anger. But I’m not linking because I left over a year ago and their disputes are none of my business.

The only reason I’m writing about Shiny at all, in fact, is because I’m hoping that if people are looking for dirt they will instead find talent. These are some of the fine people I had the privilege to work with who are talented, hard working and lovely individuals. They would be an asset to any editorial team. So if you’ve come here looking for Shiny mud, try taking away some treasure instead.

Abi Silvester

Abi is, I must admit, a friend of mine from further back than Shiny (although I didn’t know she worked there until after I was offered the job and she didn’t know it was being offered to me – t’Internet’s a small world, folks). She has excellent experience as both an online and print journalist, having worked for alternative fashion publications and turning her hand to her passions at Shiny by writing about green issues on Hippyshopper and all things hand-made on CraftyCrafty. She also contributed to wedding blog Bridalwave – always one of Shiny’s top five sites in stats – ultimately taking the role of editor for the last 8 months, as well as working on a number of fashion sites. Visit her site above or follow her on Twitter.

Isabelle O’Caroll

Fashion queen Iso was a busy bee, editing men’s fashion site Brandish, contributing to and then becoming deputy editor of major Shiny title Catwalk Queen and regularly modelling the looks for the latter! Brilliant at tongue-in-cheek humour and extra helpful if you want to translate anything into French, she was always a pleasure to work with. Click the link above to follow her on Twitter.

Dan Sung

Dan started as an editorial assistant on Tech Digest just as I left, and quickly became editor upon the departure of Kat Hannaford to T3. I kept reading Tech Digest mainly because of his writing, which is highly engaging and amusing. He’s a gift to any blog about tech or football. Check out his Linked In profile by clicking the link above.

by Alexandra Roumbas Goldstein

Diabetic-friendly orange and almond cupcakes and Rachel Allen’s red velvet cake

Cupcakes heading for the oven

Cupcakes heading for the oven

It’s been a weekend of baking experimentation. I’ve been delving into my quick recipe standby, Susannah Blake’s Cupcake Heaven and my indulgence favourite, Rachel Allen’s Bake.

For once I’m going to give out a recipe because this is my adapted version of Blake’s. My father and mother-in-law are both diabetic; I’m a strong believer that diabetics are better off having less real sugar than pumping themselves with metallic-tasting sweeteners, so as a diabetic-friendly sugar substitute I prefer to use fructose. Each of the twelve cakes ends up with about 7g of sugar in (less than a teaspoon), so even only partially replacing the sugar ought to substantially alter the Glycaemic Index of each cake. They’re not diet food, but they’re less likely to deliver a blood sugar rush than they could be. Plus there’s no added fat – the only fat is in the eggs.

Wet Ingredients

2 eggs
Zest of an unwaxed orange

Dry Ingredients

35g fructose (I used Fruisana)
55g caster sugar (see Blake’s book for original amount of sugar)
80g ground almonds
3 tbsp plain flour (this is a change from Blake’s original – see book for how to alter this step to make it gluten-free)
Flaked almonds

Beat the eggs and sugars together to make a thick, pale batter. Stir in the orange zest, then sieve in the remaining dry ingredients (except the flaked almonds) and incorporate. Divide into 12 cupcake papers, filled almost to the top, and sprinkle flaked almonds (or mixed nuts) on top. Bake for approximately 22 minutes, though I’d check after 18.

Temperature? Well, that’s the experimental bit. The original recipe calls for 180 degrees, but fructose has a lower burning point than normal sugar, so you need to reduce the temperature by up to 25 degrees – especially if, like me, you have a fan-assisted oven. The cakes came out a little darker than I would like, and I’d like to see a higher ratio of fructose – I was worried to reduce it too much as I didn’t think the egg mixture would retain the right texture and without other fats it will need to stay the right consistency. Because fructose is sweeter than sugar, these have a real toothy bite to them. Experimentation continues…

I then decided to make something truly indulgent and ridiculous, and blundered across Rachel Allen’s red velvet cake recipe. It’s stunningly moist and the icing tooth-achingly sweet with its soft meringue texture. It’s the most wonderful thick, satisfying, trashy cake. Because of its richness and sweetness, it’s possible to have just one slice and not gorge, which is just as well given the amount of butter, sugar, golden syrup and the like which go into it. I made just one layer as I was short on some of the ingredients, and substituted 125ml of milk with 1/2 tbsp of white wine vinegar (left to sit for 5-10 mins) for buttermilk as I didn’t have any. I found that substitute came up for the first four Google search results, so I trusted it, and my faith was rewarded.

It’s so brilliant to look at too… mmmmm.

Baking22

by Alexandra Roumbas Goldstein

Review: Harry Potter and the Mild Disappointment

Last night’s visit to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince at an IMAX on the other side of London just to see it on opening night with 3D scenes has to tell you how much I generally enjoy both the films and the books. But I like to think I’m a fair fan; I understand the difficulties in transferring a massively complex plot into a concise film that isn’t a turgid bum-number. Unfortunately, this is the second time I feel David Yates has slightly missed the mark.

With Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, I blamed the lack of Steve Kloves. And indeed H-BP sees far better dialogue and far more natural interaction between the teenage characters. Harry under the influence of luck potion Felix Felicis is a joy to behold – finally a real teenager, full of mouthy chutzpah. But now I can’t help feeling part of the problem lies with Yates; although he consistently turns out stunning visuals and encourages improving performances from his key cast, he’s also got a little carried away with the editing.

There’s certainly fat to trim from the books, and some of the changes were judicious. The first ten minutes – the 3D scenes, if you’re watching that version – are exciting and visually breathtaking. They quickly set the tone of urgency but also raise the CGI bar, which means a variety of totally unnecessary devised set pieces – a random race through the long grass against Fenrir Greyback among them – have to be shoehorned in to maintain the pace.

Let’s look at the positives. The flashy good looks I’ve already mentioned, but there are other gems here. Emma Watson has finally invested real character and humour into Hermione. Sadly, Harry is still on the bland side, except when acting up under the influence (see above); Rupert Grint, however, blithely holds his own as the most vibrant of the three, bringing warmth to Ron’s innately cartoonish personality. A star is surely born in Jessie Cave who delivers a fabulously insane comic turn as Lavender Brown.

Indeed, thanks in large part to Cave’s psychotic gurning, the much-mooted romantic comedy elements do live up to expectations. Hormones are running high, and there are a few opportunities to puncture the relentless gloom with genuine laughs.

Tom Felton and the ever-brilliant Alan Rickman are also allowed room to breathe in this installment, and it’s a pleasant change from just watching them alternately sneer and loom. Felton in particular takes every opportunity to give Draco Malfoy a proper, three-dimensional outing at long last. The whole vanishing cabinet episode is nicely summarised to take out a lot of waffle from the book, which lets us get straight to the heart of the increasingly desperate boy that much quicker. In addition, Helena Bonham Carter’s increasingly deranged Bellatrix Lestrange is a joy to watch, cavorting evilly like one of the demonic creatures in that animated 80s take on The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.

Yet somehow, something is lacking throughout. The series can now be deemed completely incomprehensible to anyone who hasn’t read the books, which rather knocks the wind out of the sails for many viewers. In the book, I shivered with horror when spotting Marvolo’s ring on Tom’s finger in Slughorn’s memory; in the film this key moment is completely missed thanks to half-baked and incomplete exposition. My husband, who has never read any of the books, has happily watched the films so far but was quite at a loss to explain much of what went on in this one. Since a large chunk of key plot development is removed, there’s a thumping great gap in Harry’s knowledge at the end of the film; I’m curious how they’re going to fill that hole without a couple of clunky shovels.

Finally there’s the matter of Dumbledore. I have never been thrilled with the casting of Michael Gambon, who interprets Dumbledore with far more aggression and far less humour than the late Richard Harris did. Dumbledore’s fits of sudden steeliness and temper are startling on paper because they emerge from behind an apparently seamless veneer of twinkly good nature.  Gambon’s leaden-toned, grumpy wizard (who quizzes Harry on his love life – most unlike Rowling’s Dumbledore) is hard to like and only grudgingly respected. My husband described the performance as ‘soporific’, and I can’t really disagree with him, although there is a brief moment towards the end where, weakened by a murky potion, Rowling’s Dumbledore and Gambon’s suddenly seem to become one.

As a film for the fans, H-BP only partly succeeds in recreating some of the creepy tone of the original book. As a film for those who have not read the books, it gets mired in the plot labyrinth and often comes unstuck. Yes, it’s a beautifully crafted piece with some really excellent performances, but in the end cannot really be more than a three-star effort.

by Alexandra Roumbas Goldstein

Hill & Knowlton Social Media Round-Table July 2009

Last night I was invited to the stunning Soho Square offices of Hill & Knowlton, to talk social media with a bunch of non-profit types. This was quite different from the ‘usual’ gatherings in a number of interesting ways.

1. The attendees were far more senior than usual– heads of digital, working with CEOs, in one case charity founder. This was really positive, as internal buy-in is a relentless struggle for many a community manager. These are the people that need to sit around a table with the likes of me, who actually do the day-to-day job and be convinced that it has value and that the risks can be addressed.

2. It was, therefore, not the usual suspects. All of us knew H&K a different way; we started developing a relationship with them through @CandaceKuss who’s a dog lover and former breeder of guide dog pups and who admires what we do online given our limited size and resources. We’re used to seeing some familiar names and faces on the discussion circuit now, and these weren’t them.

It was the first time, for example, I’ve come across a member of the Stonewall team, and there was also someone from the Royal Albert Hall. Fascinating, because of course we have different issues – it’s easy to say ‘let go of the product/message’ when it’s yours, but in the case of the RAH, of course, it’s not THEIR product.

3. It seems to have spawned something even more useful. While there was a certain unavoidable lack of focus in such a broad discussion, steps were taken by the lovely Sara Price and Gaylene Ravenscroft to plan where to go next – they were prepared to throw the format out if it didn’t work. Instead, preliminary decisions were made to have more structured workshops in the future, beginning with a focus on metric – hallelujah!

Metric really is the key to everything social media – and so it should be. It should be an integrated part of communications and we wouldn’t dream of trying any other comms strategy without it. It is the key to knowing if you’ve achieved your objectives, it is the tool with which you persuade the reluctant, it is the essence of communication. And despite the plethora of free goodies out there, most conversation-tracking tools are swingeingly expensive for a charity our size. A workshop that helps us get the very best out of what we can get our hands on – and turn that into fundraising, volunteering, rehoming and other engagement stats – would be very helpful indeed.

In fact, my only disappointment with the session was with the ‘listening guide’, which was designed for pure novices (“go to Twitter.com and click Get Started”); apart from Blogpulse I heavily used all of the tools mentioned – in fact, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been involved in the discussion in the first place. It would be good to see this taken further – perhaps an Advanced Guide? – moving forward.

Learning something new is what I live for – I look forward to doing that in the next session.

by Alexandra Roumbas Goldstein

This is why I love my husband…

…and also why he should heed my calls to start a blog himself. We were having an email conversation about where to go for a short break this summer and I got the following by email:

Unless of course there is somewhere that springs in your mind? I am all ears.

Well, of course, not ALL ears. That would be freaky. But probably would have me in great demand from the medical establishment for those poor unfortunate souls who have lost THEIR ears…perhaps as a result of some dreadful agricultural incident involving a wheat thresher.

At least, it would take the pressure off those rather put-upon lab mice who have ears genetically springing from their backs. Although I dare say it gives them an added advantage when it comes to escaping predators. Do you think that perhaps other mice use their services, stationing them along the edges of their mice homes, much as we strung out radar installations along the southern coastline during World War II to warn us of the advance of the Luftwaffe? I bet they’d make a fortune if they charged for their services. The mice that is, not the Luftwaffe. They’d be up to their eyes in cheese. And ears too, I’ll wager.