British Museum shows there's more than you thought to those Celts

Two shows at the British Museum are worthy of your attention if your New Year's resolution includes incorporating a bit more culture into your life. And they both close soon, so hop to it.

Celts: Art and Identity is the current blockbuster in the main exhibition space, and the last to be produced under the inspiring leadership of departing director Neil MacGregor.  It's everything we've come to expect of the museum under his capable hands: blockbuster artefacts, beautifully displayed, but always in the service of a much bigger story. In this case, that's the story of what "celtic" means, how the meaning shifted radically, and why.

It's a show of two parts. The first two thirds introduces you to the ancient Celts, a label Greeks used to define all Europeans outside their Greco-Roman world. The Romans dismissed them as barbarians, held borders against them or did their best to turn them into faithful provincial subjects, but the tribes grouped under the Celtic banner always remained culturally distinct. The show does a fine job of demonstrating the variety of cultures occupying a crescent from what's now Eastern Europe through modern Germany, Denmark, France and Spain. Their written records were sparse, so we understand them through the impressive artefacts they left behind. Torques, drinking horns, jewelled cloak clasps, caldrons, weapons and ceremonial vessels. It's a treat for any fan of jewellery or design. The sinuous lines and abstract animal forms we associate with the term "Celtic" start early and are constantly beguiling. Origins of Anglo-Saxon and Viking cultures are obvious. It's actually a shame this show came after the British Museum's impressive Viking retrospective, as they would have told an even better story had they been staged back-to-back, in historical order.

Many may be surprised at the origins of the artefacts in the early parts of the show. What we now think of as the Celtic nations are mostly absent. That's because "Celtic" in its modern sense is a political and artistic construct of the 19th century. The last third of the show explores this curious evolution.

We pass from the Roman world into a gallery showing off some of the medieval glories of Celtic inspiration, as Irish monks borrowed the curvilinear design ethos to illustrate their bibles and crosses. Then the Celtic world goes silent until the 18th century, when the European romantic movement and patriotic stirrings within the UK's home nations triggered a search for identity.  The Scots, Welsh and Irish started celebrating their ancient past and resurrecting their own languages, even if they had to make things up. Prints, paintings and books here show us how Sir Walter Scott brought back the kilt and the clans while James Macpherson created an epic poet called Ossian, meant to be the Scottish Homer. The Welsh whipped up eisteddfod festivals and a chief druid to oversee things. His regalia ... designed in the 19th century to look as if the pieces had been unearthed from Merlin's pre-medieval cache ... forms one of the highlights of the show. Across the Irish sea, other new-model Celts were rediscovering ancient myths and inventing a new, "old" folk culture. Artists across the UK embraced Celtic design, driving a rage for the look in the early 19th-century that lives on.

Much of what the world now thinks of as ancient Welsh, Irish and Scottish tradition is a fairly modern creation, its look heavily drawn from roots in what's now Germany, France and Denmark. That's the fascinating reveal at the end of this show.

The show's biggest challenge is its size. By the time people hit the modern third, most will be reaching cultural overload. The narrative might have been better had the scope been trimmed. As a museum member, I popped in twice, spending the first visit concentrating on the ancient Celts and the second on the modern. This is the ideal way to go, but if you don't have the luxury, then keep the total story in mind and resist the temptation to linger too much in the early bits.

Upstairs in the secondary exhibition area, the appeal of Egypt: Faith After the Pharaohs is probably In the Shadow of the Sword (one of my favourite books of recent times), you'll find this a worthy illustration of much explored in that history of the development of Islam and its debt to the other monotheists. In a world where differences between major religions are making news for all the wrong reasons, it's useful ... and inspiring ... to take a look at their shared origins.
more niche, but tells a story far more relevant to the modern world. Egypt was a crucible for the formation of the three great monotheistic religions. The show opens with the stark beauty of a torah, a gospel and a koran side-by-side, exquisite calligraphy shining forth under spotlights in a pool of darkness. The galleries that follow use more documents, religious artefacts, grave goods and bits of architecture to illustrate how the three religions often co-existed peacefully. Christianity owed a debt to Judaism, Islam to Christianity, while all borrowed elements from the ancient Egyptians and Romans. The items on display here are less beguiling than all that Celtic treasure, since the most significant artefacts are documents. But the story is intriguing. If you've read Tom Holland's

Celts: Art and Identity runs until 31 January
Egypt: Faith After the Pharaohs closes 7 February

The holiday roundup

As ever with this time of year, my ratio of bloggable activities to spare time to write about them skews wildly out of balance.  The waistline grows, the liver weakens, sleep deprivation booms and work stresses grow as everyone pushes to complete year-end deadlines. The compensation? A long parade of evenings and lunches catching up with people I like, often taking place at special events concocted to make the season special.  Here's a roundup.

Berry's Champagne & Sparkling Wine Tasting
A bargain at £25 a ticket, Berry Brothers' Warehouse Shop laid on three Champagne houses, three English sparkling producers and a range of gourmet food producers for a bit of palate cleansing. Given that every winery was offering their whole range for tasting, anyone not driving easily drank more than the value of their admission fee. Of the French houses: Michel Roux may love Gosset but we were lukewarm; Pol Roger was instantly the most classic and familiar of tastes; Bollinger was our favourite but the £85 per bottle price on our favoured 2005 Grand Annee Rose is a bit rich for our tastes. Even if it is £15 off list price at the Warehouse Shop!

Of the English producers, Hattingley Valley was interesting for being remarkably local, but tasted more like a mid-price Prosecco than a fine sparkling wine. Gusbourne had an interesting marketing approach, making all their wines reflect single years rather than taking the blending approach most sparkling producers use. Our favourite in taste and price was Hambledon, a small and relatively new Hampshire producer that's gathering in the awards. They have workshops at their winery where you get to bottle your own wine, dictating how much "dosage" you want to put in to take your creation along the dry to sweet scale. I suspect a visit will be in our future.

Also on  the workshop list for 2016 is Parsonage Farm, showing off their Hampshire-made charcuterie on the night. These lovely farmers have not only diversified into charcuterie to get more profit out of their pigs, they'll welcome you onto their farm to learn how to do it yourself.  (Pictured above.) Artisan Dairy impressed with local cheeses, and Kokoh Chocolates (a regular favourite of ours) showed off exciting flavours like Himalayan sea salt and wattleseed and coffee.

Coq d'Argent
I was shocked to realise I've never mentioned this restaurant in my blog; a clear case of familiarity breeding contempt. Or, at least, a genial disregard. The Coq sits atop a modern office building above Bank tube station, the building's triangular front pointing towards the Royal Exchange and the Bank of England like the prow of some fantastical striped ship.  Denizens of the offices nearby (and I was one for 12 years) know the Coq's rooftop gardens as one of the best places in The City for al fresco drinks in the summer time. The restaurant has outdoor dining areas on each side of an elegant, modern dining room serving updated French classics.  It's a dependable place for business lunches: upscale but not profligate, tasty but not trying too hard. I've hosted major events here and have found myself dining here two or three times a year, though always in a work-related context. So it was this holiday season, when it served as the venue for a team Christmas lunch.

They do a magnificent job decorating for the season; all the outdoor areas decked out with fur throws, fake snow, frost-covered branches and alpine backdrops to give the place the feel of an Alpine ski lodge. Indoors, every table was booked for the set holiday menu, where £45 got you classics like foie gras, duck breast in a rich sauce and a delicate take on a bouche de Noel. I'm still not sure I'd choose it for a purely social date; the crowd is so assertively professional it can be a little hard to relax. But as a business venue that's been delivering without disappointment for more than a decade, it's a safe bet.

Winchester Cathedral Christmas Market and Concert
In this fifth year of attending this market, familiarity is breeding a bit of dissatisfaction. The vendors Annecy. Sadly, that's not happening. The result? Winchester paled in comparison to the other markets I attended this season. I won't bother next year unless we return for the Cathedral Carol Concert, which was the highlight of this outing. The cathedral choir, plus a cappella group Blake, spiced with seasonal readings from a local BBC presenter ... all in a spectacular setting.
don't change much, and the action is still confined to the picturesque but cramped confines of the cathedral close. With the crowds this event now regularly attracts, I want it to grow, with new and interesting vendors setting up shop in booths throughout the town centre. As in

Beach Blanket Babylon
It's official: I'm old. Used to be that communications industry parties were always dependably in the West End. Now, all the hipsters want to be in Shoreditch. This was the second time in a month I had to schlepp across town to that inconvenient, unattractive, once-dangerous-now-edgy nether corner of London. I hate the whole graceless, soulless, cement-drenched area with a passion, and this venue did nothing to restore my faith. Given the name, I was hoping for some ironic take on '60s spring break films or Tiki bars. I saw nothing in the characterless warehouse to explain the name. Just multiple stories of featureless venue packed with braying, heavily-drinking 30-somethings having a fabulous time.  Presenters at our afternoon meetings had to compete with the cacophony floating up from the ground floor; once we shifted to pure socialising the service was slow and piped music was a
t a level that made conversation challenging. Canapés at cocktail hour featured one savoury and three sweets. Dinner was pots of comfort food like shepherd's pie, macaroni and cheese or chicken curry, all lacking in anything resembling flavour or seasoning.  Service had been so bad that, by the time the food finally came from the kitchen, a crowd had gathered around the service door eager to grab anything that appeared. Two other "mature" colleagues joined me in slipping away as soon as we felt we could.

All that said ... it's been many years since I've worked for a company that funded a proper departmental Christmas party. The simple delight of being there trumped the venue choice. It was organised by the youngsters, of whom there are many. They are delightful, clever and inspiring. And they were having a fabulous time. So if you're a 27-year-old planning an office bash, ignore my contempt for Beach Blanket Babylon and check it out. If you're over 40, trust me. Avoid at all costs.

The Force Awakens
I couldn't resist: we saw it on its opening day. No spoilers ... I'll just say that for me, for the first time since the original film, this captured the magic, awe and delight I felt watching the original as an 11-year-old. There's humour, action, tears, drama and completely believable special effects. I could have happily watched it a second time with only a small break. A return viewing is definitely on the cards for the holiday break.

Light Up Sherfield Park
Seeing how my housing estate embraced Halloween, I thought I'd propose another venerable American tradition: the holiday lights competition. Co-sponsored by the parish council and our community association, we managed to pull together an impressive list of prizes for those who decorated, and for those who voted. While the official number of entrants was lower than hoped, the neighbourhood looked good and I'd guess that about 15% of houses decorated for the holidays. Considering that almost nobody lit up their homes when I first moved to the UK, this is progress. I have high hopes for the future.

Nothing like Alps and fondue to make it feel like Christmas

Restaurant Review: Le Vieux Logis, St. Jorioz, France

Given this year's unseasonably warm winter, a weekend jaunt to Annecy to celebrate an ea
rly Christmas with extended family is likely to be as close as we get to holiday snow. Even there, the snow is only dusting mountain tops. On the valley floor you needed little more than a light jacket to be comfortable.

Whatever the weather, wandering around Annecy's holiday market makes you feel like you've dropped into a Christmas card. Traditional wooden chalet spread across several streets in the picturesque old town, offering a pleasing variety of craft items and luxury foodstuffs that are just that little bit nicer than the typical British market. The lake glistens at the edge of town, castle and church towers loom above you, mountain peaks rim the horizon, Christmas music (ironically, mostly American stuff from the '50s) streams over a sound system. It's everything you want from a Christmas market. But since Annecy isn't particularly known for its market, it's mostly locals thronging the streets.  Even without people to visit, I'd recommend this as a charming pre-Christmas shopping getaway. (Fly via Geneva; Annecy is about 40 minutes from the airport.)

Besides drinking up the atmosphere in the picture-postcard town centre, we have only one "must-do" when we visit friends here: Eating at Le Vieux Logis in the lakeside village of St. Jorioz that our friends now call home. I've mentioned this place briefly here before, but after three visits of reliable quality and family fun, it deserves another mention.

I'm not a skier, but I've seen enough films to have an idea of the idyllic place you want to settle into after a day on the slopes. Stone walled, peak-roofed Alpine architecture, heavy beams, open fire, traditional embroidery on the sheer linen window coverings. It's all here at Le Vieux Logis, without the indignities of gangs of foreigners drinking themselves silly, or the outrageous prices concocted to fleece the tourists. This is an extremely local place: our friends are on first-name basis with the owners and I suspect we were the only ones from beyond the valley dining there than night. Certainly the only English speakers. The food is beautifully simple, because you probably only want one thing when you're in the Alps, right?

Fondue.

Fondue was briefly trendy in the States in the late '70s and early '80s. I remember thinking we were terribly fashionable going to a place called The Melting Pot before senior prom. (I've just looked them up and am amazed to find they still exist.) But the fashion was all about the cooking method rather than the food. Here in the Alps, there's nothing trendy about it. It's just tradition. And they do it well. If there are four of you, as we were, you can have one cheese fondue and one meat, eliminating the need to make a painful choice. The family team running the place brings out the bases, scrambles around to plug you in, then emerge from the kitchen with their pots of steaming joy.  The cheese here has a depth of flavour that is both nutty and grassy; as if you were eating the valley floor itself. Between the groaning platter of bread for dipping in the cheese, and the pile of beef chunks to cook to your taste in  the simmering oil, nobody is going hungry here.  There's a generous mound of salad to complement the main attraction, which works well as a palate cleanser after all those rich flavours. Match that all with jugs of local white wine, and life gets even better.

Le Vieux Logis is also known for their pizza. A traditional wood-fired oven greets you as you walk in the door, and if you can tear yourself away from the fondue you'll be rewarded with a thin and crispy delight that's actually the more delicate dining choice here.

I'd guess that in high skiing season this place is a little less local. Surely, the thousands of skiers who descend upon Annecy's slopes each year must know this place? We're always there out of season, however, so I'll continue to think of it as our little, local secret. Now you know, too.