This week I’ve been away in deep dark Sussex. Whilst here, I have been totally thrown by the presence of several stuffed figurines in people’s drives and front gardens. Dressed in a weird assortment of clothing with painted pillows for faces, I admit I almost said hello to at least one. In my defence they had sunglasses on, which really disguised the cloth-ey skin and sharpied eyes. Then I remembered that it was Bonfire Night. One of the markers of the strangeness of this year has been the fact that dates and occasions seem to almost slip by without the mass gatherings that normally accompany them. One of the Autumn markers of my youth has always been the crush of the Ally Pally fireworks or the bonfire on the village green at my grandparent’s house where I’ve currently retreated. While I won’t lie – these lumpy cloth figures are deeply creepy, there’s something reassuring about the fact that we are still marking occasions.
Bonfire Night has always been one of my favourite holidays, I like the smoke and the noise and the spectacle of it; plus a holiday without any long standing religious connotations is a rarity in the UK. While I’m not sure about its roots in celebrating the survival of the monarchy, the slightly twisted spectacle of burning figurines in giant fires is strangely cathartic. I never really delved into quite how dark lots of the traditions that go with this day are (and not sure now is the time) but I do remember the chant we learnt at Primary School, which went:
“Guy, Guy, Guy
Poke him in the eye,
Put him on the bonfire,
And there let him die”
It’s strange and surreal to imagine thirty school children chanting that. However, this year celebrating the survival of state institutions seems counter intuitive, I can personally think of several I would happily watch go down in a blaze of fire and gunpowder. The themes of smoke and fire though, seemed in line with our Marigold sentiments and we do love to mark an occasion so here we are.
We toyed collectively with several ideas for this intro. First we thought about putting together a selection of people’s ‘perfect post meal cigarette memories’, but then I was told a story involving a fag smoked midway through a bowl of crab linguine in a Neapolitan cantina/fishmongers. The image of one hand clutching half a crab and the other a cigarette blew all other stories out the water, so that was that.
Barbeque feels like it’s been done to death. It also seems to have become tainted by a toxic caveman mentality spliced with an off putting anality about exactly what type of charcoal to use and how long we should all be aging our steaks in salt chambers. I have lost count of the amount of times I’ve been “explained” how to light a fire/barbeque while I was virtually finished. Though the image of myself and friend of Marigold, BJ McNeil, tending the hot coals of Rebecca’s birthday and grilling snapper in our finery and full faces does redress the balance somewhat.
I also started on a rant about how mastering a fire seems to have become associated with masculinity, both in the building of and cooking on. But then I went into a US Election spiral and made a pact with myself to be more tolerant, because the world’s going to shit and the least we can do is be a bit kinder. So that was out the question too.
Feeling flattened, I came away to Sussex and built myself a fire every evening in an attempt to stave off the anxiety that feels like it’s permeating all things currently. The routine of stacking kindling, rolling paper twists, striking the match and watching it flare into life felt meditative. Following these steps each evening to the same result has been deeply soothing and reassuring. I read this week that in several parts of the world fire is seen as a purifier, a way of purging sins and cleansing energy. While I’m not quite at the stage of sage smudge sticks, I can attest to the comfort and relaxation of a roaring blaze.
In the absence of a fire though may I recommend the below as an alternative method of relaxation. Put together by Emily and illustrated by Rebecca I find the soft hum of CBD and the warmth of the ginger a highly appropriate substitute to smoky logs.
Love,
Josie and the Marigolds
Bonfire Night 2017, Victoria Park, Sophie Williams
Suggested Pairing
Drinking your way through the first week of lockdown? Great, us too. Here’s a smokey drink that can be sloshed together and give you the very essence of fire -
Lapsang Boulevardier
25ml Lapsang Bourbon*
25ml Amaro Montenegro (sweet vermouth is also fine)
25ml Campari
Take rocks glass and fill generously with ice, add ingredients and stir. Finish with orange slice.
*To make Lapsang Bourbon take a 75cl bourbon bottle of your choice, we like Four Roses, add 2 Lapsang Souchong tea bags. Leave to seep overnight and strain into fresh bottle.
Fired Up Ginger Cake
Recipe: Matt Parker & Emily Boyfield combo
Artwork: Rebecca Townrow
Thanks for tuning in again people! Possibly make sure someone more level headed sets up fireworks after you’ve consumed the cake… As always links of some nice things to follow. Don’t forget to follow us on Instagram; send us any fiery food you’ve been making, or drop us an email.
Entangled Life, Merlin Sheldrake - I’ve been enjoying this book immensely, it’s all about symbiotic relationships in nature and how fungi are connected to everything. Had a few “woah!” moments whilst reading. See here for a video of the author growing and eating mushrooms out of his own book, can’t say I enjoyed this video but the sentiment is cool.
Parched Peas - a bonfire night tradition in Lancashire. Peas with lashings of malt vinegar. Sign me up.
Cecilia Chiang - liked Armani. RIP to a real one x
Sticky Fingers Brownies - This week's ginger cake is a recipe that Emily and friend Matt Parker (@mparker23) perfected together. One fateful bonfire night they decided to make curry goat, rice and peas and this cake for 15 friends, put it all in takeaway containers and go to watch the fireworks at Victoria Park. It was insanely wholesome and giggly. The artwork that Rebeca has graced us with is based on the original sticky fingers recipe, created by Meridy Volz in San Francisco in the 1970s. By the 80s Meridy’s brownies were famous, and the business had pivoted to provide medical cannabis relief to HIV/AIDs patients. A true legend.
How America Invented the White Woman Who Just Loves Fall - Did I invent red lipstick... no. Can I act as a beauty gatekeeper to all whom choose to wear it… no. Should Taylor Swift be allowed to form a personality around Ruby Woo lips and ‘cosy’ clothes… no. This article isn’t balanced; it leans heavily against Swift and her love of Autumn but we live to love to hate.