I made a number of promises to get my trip report of Malta up. Tuesday turned into Wednesday and Wednesday got pushed to the side like Tuesday. I’ve made little amendments here and there but I’d hate to put something up that I haven’t given my all.
At the moment I’m finding it extremely difficult to get motivated.
About two months ago I finally decided to go and see the doctor about my deep sense of unhappiness. I sat in the waiting room feeling nervous, like I would before a job interview, about what the doctor would say about the way I feel I’m feeling. I sat down with Dr McKenzie and explained the only way I could physically describe it – “It’s like I have a heavy heart”. For the time I was sitting in that room, the weight lifted as I began to open up about my feelings. She said I have been showing characteristics of depression and asked if I would be open to counselling.
I had my first session last Tuesday and it was great. I love talking to people, whether it’s a friend or someone I’ve never met before, but talking to a stranger about the way I’m feeling is difficult. I got a few things off my chest and I’ll get the chance to do so again this Tuesday. I don’t know whether it’s a bit bizarre to actually look forward to a counselling session, but strangely enough I can’t wait to get back in that room. I guess I know it’s a route I have to take in order to get ‘better’. I also think it’s a chance for me to talk and not have that fear of being judged.
I’m sorry this isn’t the Malta trip as promised. It will be up soon, but not sure when. I felt the need to get some form of writing online. When there’s a tough crowd on Twitter…I guess you have to give the people what they want.
Watching my second favourite chef James Martin’s last ever Saturday Kitchen Live brought back memories of me searching for a recipe for something to cook with Mum on Saturday evening.
“I want something chickeney Matthew”
So with the meat decided, I had to search BBC Food for a recipe. The first recipe I remember following (to a tee!) was chicken fajitas (this ended up being my go-to recipe for many Saturdays to come)… which apart from the usual ingredients, involved stirring in greek yoghurt, something I wasn’t keen on doing but mum insisted it wouldn’t dull the flavour. My first time in the kitchen with supervision from AliB was a success, so the canny woman thought it would be ideal for me to cook every Saturday from then on out (she really was a clever bastard my Mum). I branched out into curries here and there and occasionally went back to my break-glass-emergency-fajitas. One weekend disaster struck when the addition of the yoghurt managed to curdle the mix… Mum still had faith and I learnt from my mistake and it hasn’t occurred since.
*Tip: When I add cream/yoghurt to a hot liquid, spoon some of the hot liquid into a cup, add a small amount of cream to the cup and give it a stir, keep adding until you have the amount you want then incorporate back to the pan, that way the only curdling risk will remain in the cup, not the whole pot and the temperature differential between the added liquid and the pot will be closer… I don’t know if this is a widely known method, think I picked it up from Jamie O and it just seemed so simple yet so effective.*
2013 was the last Christmas I got to cook for mum… I was looking forward to the big day, and it was the year I was going to take the reins and be head chef. The 25th came and I had all the prep done the day before so it meant I just had to worry about the meat. Mum wasn’t feeling particularly well so she stayed in bed and acted as the Christmas Dinner Troubleshooter. Every 15minutes I was running up the stairs to feed back turkey performance and ask whether she thought it was over/undercooked.
“Just cook it for 20minutes per kilo or whatever it says on the packet Matthew and it will be fine. Stop stressing.”
I’m about 10 minutes from serving up and all I have to do is stir fry the brussel sprouts and dad comes strolling over with one rasher of bacon to put in the pan for himself to eat…
“What are you doing? You’re not putting that in the fucking pan. Dinner will be in 15mins, just wait”
After unleashing my inner Gordon Ramsay in Dad’s direction, I was able to finish the last bits and put everything on the table for everyone to help themselves.
I wasn’t able to polish off an average sized plate, I’d lost my appetite after looking at it for so long but Dad loved it, as did Mum and she ate what she could.
It’s something I’ll always remember, the fact that the last Christmas dinner I cooked for mum, went down so well and it made her proud.
It’s been two long years since my favourite chef died. She was a great cook and she transformed the way I am in the kitchen today. I used to measure everything in a jug and was always aghast when mum suggested “adding a drop more water in”… No mention of that in the recipe, couldn’t possibly add a drop/drizzle or dash extra of anything…. If it’s not on this sheet of A4… No chance mum. Not on my watch.
Now I’m adding glugs of this, pinches of that, half a can of this, handfuls of that. And that is all down to Alison. She really brought the creative side out of me and it’s made me what I am today. This post may seem highly food related on the anniversary of my Mum’s death, but it’s something we bonded over and had a mutual love of. I will always have the memories of making her smile with my cooking, it’s just a shame I won’t have her there to clean up after me anymore.
This is a question I ask myself time and again. I think I do but I don’t know I do.
I’ve always been a happy guy and I have always enjoyed making people laugh, whether in the form of a cheap laugh at my own expense, or someone else’s. I have always been a sarcastic little shit and I’ve always enjoyed treading that fine line of being threatened with and actually being on the receiving end of physical violence (fortunately always being on the side of the former). “Your lip is going to get you into trouble some day Matthew” mum told me on a regular basis.
I remember one parent’s evening at secondary school (which filled mum with dread as usual) my chemistry teacher Mr Ryan said “Mrs Baker, Matthew is a really great and likeable lad, and if there was a prize for class clown, he would win hands down, but unfortunately there isn’t one.” I wasn’t one of these guys who hated school, but I wasn’t someone who loved it either. To me it was a social life with side salad of education . I got 1 A, 3 B’s, 5 C’s and a D at GCSE level, which by secondary school standards isn’t bad at all. But by Lancaster Royal Grammar School standards it wasn’t up to scratch with the majority able to spell ABBA and a popular roadside recovery service with their results. Naturally I got a bollocking as we digested my prized 10 letters over a coffee at Nero’s.
Having changed schools to do my A-Levels and achieving below par results it was time for university. A three year slog and out I popped with a 2.1 in Finance and a few months after graduating, I accepted a job at a bank and began what I thought was going to be interesting and testing work… It definitely wasn’t.
It was coming up to my two year ‘anniversary’ at work and being told that my performance wasn’t good enough and I was going to be rated a ‘4’ at year end (the grading scale was 1-5… 1 – You’re nose is nice and brown and 5 your nose is in the centre of management’s dart board) I made my decision to hand my notice in. A lot of thought went in to it and I decided that I’m too young to be in a job that I hate and taking orders from someone who I didn’t like.
“Matthew you’re a smart guy, you could have really turned this around…”
I know, and no thank you.
I guess being in a job that you have no passion for whilst still struggling to come to terms with the loss of a loved one is a toxic combination for one’s psyche. The crushing weight of negative thoughts really began to build and create what I can only believe is described as ‘depression’. In November I opened up to Jayne and my friend Gary about these thoughts. Some of these thoughts were suicidal and some days I didn’t want to be alive anymore. The anger shown by both made me realise that I have plenty to live for. I know my mum would turn in her grave at the thought of me thinking this way, and I remember her saying when she was alive that she would kill me herself if I ever thought this way.
(I really hope talking about this subject won’t put people off my blog/make people pity me/make people treat me any differently to how they have previously. I am enjoying this medium of expression, and I truly believe that a problem shared is a problem halved.)
Over the past month I have recovered that deep sense of happiness and I believe I have a more optimistic outlook on life. I have also decided to focus more on my passion for cooking and I’m going to try and turn this pastime into a street food venture.
Mid-January I took part in a 4 day business course run by the Prince’s Trust and I would say it was hands down more informative, interesting and worthwhile than my degree. I am now in the process of compiling a business plan and researching all the rules and regulations involved with the street food sector.
It’s all very daunting and the idea of even starting has kept me awake at night.
‘How much is that going to cost?’ ‘should I use gas or electricity?’ ‘how do I market my product?’ ‘should I have a van or a stall?’
Next Friday I have managed to organise a phone call with the the co-owner of Pizza Pilgrims, which is something I’m quite nervous about but I’m also excited to have the opportunity to pick the brains of someone who has probably encountered and overcome some or all of these concerns.
(If you are in London and get a chance, go get a pizza from them, hands down the best I have ever tasted. Last time I was in the city I visited them twice in 3 days!)
This is part of the reason why I won’t be playing the UKIPT Dublin main event next week as I want to finish up this plan and prepare a list of questions to ask Thom. Although I’m not firing €1100 at the main, I will make a go at defending my title in the PLO tournament and hopefully add another spade to my trophy cabinet (messy desk).
Do I have depression?
I have definitely did have but don’t think I do now. I have a lot in my life not to be depressed about, focussing on that has helped me return to happy Matthew and it’s the only Matthew I want to be.
I can’t remember the exact reason why I wanted to fly on a aircraft not much bigger than a washing machine to a poker tournament rather than get on a more secure Easyjet or Bryanair flight to play UKIPT London the week after… But I decided on the reason that I’ve never been to the Isle of Man and it was somewhere different to play poker.
When I plan to go to a poker tournament, my excitement/preparation begins about 4/5months prior to Day 1. This led to my friend Paul coin the phrase ‘green bananas’ whenever I would enquire about his attendance at an event I planned to play half a year away.
“Hey PC, You planning to go UKIPT IoM in October?”
“Green bananas Matt”
Translation – Poker tournament does not start this week, so I have not even begun to plan for it. Jayne’s interpretation was that Paul only buys yellow bananas incase he dies before he gets the chance to eat the ripened green ones… I prefer the 2nd translation.
I digressed. October the 2nd came and I left work with the usual excitement in my belly! Through security at the George Best City Airport with the usual you need to place that in a plastic bag nonsense and off I went to grab a pint while waiting for the Boeing 777 to arrive.
I’ve seen bigger if I’m honest
The pilot greeted us as we boarded and put our bags in the back, safety demonstration over and we were on our way. I’ve never been afraid of flying but if you want to test your lack of fear, take a trip on Citywing’s OK-LAZ.
A Short turbulent flight and a taxi ride later and I was dropping my bags off at the hotel. Then it was time walk down to the Villa Gaiety Theatre to scope out the mental battlefield.
I couldn’t resist getting my teeth into a delightful £1/£2 Pot Limit Omaha (PLO) game. The short experience wasn’t as delightful as I had envisioned as I managed to punt off about £400, getting it all in with AAXX on A9T v the villain’s JQXX. He completed his straight on the river and was full of glee as he felted me and proceeded to tip the dealer £10 (little did he know, I would reap my revenge the following day in the main event). Off I went to register for day 1B then off to get a semi early night.
Day 1
Friday arrived and I took my seat at the table. In the early stages I played pretty conservatively and tried to get a feel for my opponents and how they liked to play, while trying to avoid major confrontations with the highly competent Chris Jonat sitting opposite me in Seat 5.
Chris was very active at the table and he was the only real danger in an otherwise passive group of players.
Around the 4th level in, we were joined by the man who took my money in the cash game the previous night (we shall refer to him as The Villain), and a few levels later the lovely Vicky Coren joined the party, crossword in hand. The Villain was splashing about and showing a few bluffs, one of which caused a German player to go a pale shade of beetroot, and after letting him find his feet I allowed him just enough rope to hang himself holding Queens against my Aces, betting every street on a low double paired board. Not long after, Vicky finished him off when he ambitiously tried to push her off trip kings (smug on the inside, wry smile on the outside).
Toward the end of the night we were joined by Max Silver who took his seat to my immediate left. Max began to apply pressure to the table but was unable to win the ‘classic race’ his 99 v my AK.
Last-Level-Beer-Level begun and I began to wind down when a pot arose between me and the man I had tried to stay clear of for most of the day, Chris Jonat. I raised with 77 and he 3bet the button, I called. The dream 784 flop came down and I check raised all in. He looked pained but made the call fairly swiftly with KK… Two safe cards later and I scooped a massive pot to give me the chip lead going into Day 2.
Photographers were circling the remaining players like pigeons over a person with chips… Turns out I was that pigeon with the most chips! Afterwards I spoke to one of the PokerNews crew and said “It was really hard to try and carry on like they weren’t taking my photo” to which he replied “be cool soda pop, be cool!”
Starting stack
1st break
Dinner break
Last Level
235.6k Day 1B chip lead
Day 2
Day two did not start with poker… It began with Saturday Kitchen with James Martin, a program Mum and I used to watch religiously every Saturday morning. Cookery craving satisfied – I took a walk into the town area of Douglas and bought some blueberries and oranges and walked back to the theatre to settle myself in for another poker slog! Chips unbagged and stacked in a pretentious tower, I sat and waited for the rest of the table to arrive. My starting table consisted of Sam Grafton (didn’t fanboy him this time), Fatima de Melo and my now friend Jonathan Rees. It was a particularly chatty table especially with the aforementioned characters and soon the topic of conversation was ‘people smiling after knocking you out of a poker tournament’. Fatima brought it up and told us all, using her particularly colourful language about some guy who smiled after knocking her out of the $10k buyin Pokerstars Caribbean Adventure (PCA) in the first level of Day 1. After explaining the hand Sam made a comment about the way she went broke, all in good humour.
Not long into the day a hand arose, one which Sam openly berated me on his Unibet Twitch Stream. After a raise, I called with J9s and Sam reraises with what turned out to be Aces in the big blind, it folds back to me and i decide this is the hand I want to go to war with. The flop is J57. Sam makes a bigger than expected continuation bet and I call. Turn comes the 9. Sam shoves and I call, the river is inconsequential and I knock out one of my poker heroes. Fatima looks at me and says “don’t you dare f***ing smile”.
Day 2 came to a close when we reached 40 players and were in the money. Around 6:30 I bagged up my 327,500 chips and went off in search of a place to eat, preferably somewhere with good TripAdvisor reviews. I managed to find a small tapas bar down by the marina and I got settled in the bar area and began ordered more food than I could eat!
Sitting there on my own my eyes began to well up. I had so much support from everyone back home but I just sat there wishing I could have shared the moment with my mum. Finally I had that achievement of cashing in a big event and a score on my Hendon Mob profile it would have just been amazing to have shared it with her as I know she would have been over the moon.
I dried my eyes and started to smile again and finished what I could of my meal. Don’t think the waiters have seen someone go through so many emotions over patatas bravas and chorizo before.
Day 3
Day 3 didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. I soon slipped to 170k from the 327 that I started with, but I plugged away and after a redraw at 24 players I was moved to the feature table with Ludo Geilich on my immediate right. I treaded water the whole time I was under the bright lights as I was handcuffed by what I could reasonably do with the stack I had, and the fact I was card dead… It felt good to make the last 16 with any chips!
16 left and another redraw. Moved to the non feature table, and finally able to listen to music again, I managed to chip up to over 400k after 3bet shoving over Terry Jordan’s open and my QQ held v As9s. The 6s7sTx flop made me sweat but I somehow managed to avoid the Aces, 8s and spades.
Then came the hand that haunts me to this day which can be read here. I made the decision based on a number of factors.
This was Ludo, and he can have literally any two cards.
I would have had about 300-350k if I folded. Making me think that he thought I wouldn’t want to risk a 25-30bb stack.
Looking at him under his hood, he remained extremely still, leading me to believe that it could be a bluff as he was trying to freeze, something which I feel people tend to do more when bluffing.
As I was thinking for well over 3 minutes I became increasingly conscious of time. I hate the excessive ‘tanking epidemic’ that has become increasingly common in No Limit Holdem. I applied pressure on myself, perhaps unnecessarily and rushed my decision even though other players told me to take my time.
I wanted to be a hero.
Confirmed: Board game less confusing than the poker player
Off I went to the payout cage with my 13th place ticket for £4,650 and a sour taste in my mouth. If someone had offered me that amount of money before the tournament started I’d have snapped their arm off… But sometimes it’s hard not to get disappointed when we get so deep in poker tournaments, that first place is so tantalisingly close we can almost taste it.
That’s the way I remember it. I was at my desk in work when I got the call, “The doctors think you should come home.”
Once the boat docked in Cairnryan, I drove as fast as I could down the motorway in the hope that I could see my mum one last time. I got home in record time but it was too late. Dad met me as soon as I opened the back door. “She’s gone mate” as he hugged me tight. All I could do was try and console my dad and say “it’s okay, it’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay. Not even slightly. I had had the most important person in my life unfairly taken away from me and nearly two years on, the fact that I won’t get to see her again really hurts.
This will probably seem like a pretty tough to read/write inaugural blog post, but I found a quote this week that seems apt “eat a live frog every morning and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day.” I guess this post is the live frog.
I guess I haven’t fully come to terms with my mum’s death, I don’t know if you ever really do but I think putting my thoughts in writing could help with my current mental state.
………….
My mum always had a keen interest in my poker playing (to change the topic slightly and to keep inline with the blog name of PokerFoodLife) and she would always wish me luck for any tournament I played and say that she was nervous and always thinking about me while I was playing. My first experience playing poker outside of my home game was at The Vic around the corner from my house for £5 and £10. “Ten pounds is a lot of money Matthew, especially if you’re playing every week” mum would regularly said to me. And when the stakes got higher (£20 on Saturday, £30 and £50 big games)… the buyins always remained either £5 or £10, at least to mum anyway. “How much is it tonight Matthew?” “Just a tenner mum”, “Break a leg or whatever they say to poker players.”
I had the poker bug and mum enjoyed hearing of my poker exploits and I still believe she was delighted to be woken up by her elated son at 4 o’clock one Monday morning being told “I won Mum! I won. I won the €2k package to UKIPT Galway.” A half asleep Alison -“Oh very well done! Are you sure you won?” I was sure and I was off to Galway in August 2013.
I flew into Dublin on the Wednesday and got to Galway later that evening. I checked into the hotel, dumped my bags off and walked down to the venue to soak up the atmosphere. I had a walk about then went through to the players lounge and ordered a pint. While I was waiting to be served, Sam Grafton appeared on my left (one of my poker heroes) and after he said hi to me, I went into full fanboy mode “sorry Sam, I’m just a massive fan of yours”. Having got that out of the way I was invited to sit with him and a few of his mates. After time a few more people joined, Jamie Burland, Kevin Williams, Chi Tsang, Liv Boeree and Jake Cody when on break from the 6max. I can’t remember saying much as I was just in awe of all these legends, it was like a dream. A few beers in, I started chatting more and wound up beating Liv Boeree at table football (sick brag). To cut a long story short, I ended up going on a pub crawl with all the legends (minus Cody) and got to be in the presence of Viktor ‘Isildur1’ Blom. Highlight of the trip before I had even touched any cards.
I played the last day 1 on Friday and was joined by the Cookstown contingent consisting of Boyler, PC, Reaney, Matty and Nathan. First break came and we gathered outside the tournament area for a chat and discuss hands etc, where we were greeted by Dave ‘Devilfish’ Ulliott who told us a crude joke and had us all in stitches.
Later that day our table broke and I was assigned a new seat, puzzled why someone was in in my new assigned seat at table 6 seat 9, I asked the tournament director Luca where I should be sitting and he informed me I should be at Table 9 seat 6 which happened to be the feature table. This both made me excited and scared at the same time. Mum had to be informed! I told the boss I was going to be slightly famous and sent her the link to the live stream, she was probably more excited than I was!
My 15 minutes of fame
I survived through the day with less than 20k and busted early on day 2, shoving with A6o and losing out to TT. The dream was over but for £2.20 I got to play a €1,100 tournament and have the experience of a lifetime!
I was upset that I didn’t cash and didn’t necessarily play my best, I know that I made my mum proud which means more to me than money not gained.
PokerFoodLife 