Tidbits..

G and I aren't moving back to Toronto until January and we knew this would be our last Christmas on our own. So we shacked up in a hotel room on Christmas eve and went out for dinner to a Michelin starred Indian restaurant. I was a bit worried we'd be the only ones there but it seems quite a few people were craving a bit of Christmas curry. It was pouring rain on Christmas day and the streets of London were dead. We started the day off right with a full English breakfast, which seems to involve mass quantities of meat.

*****
By the time we got home it was time to throw the duck in the oven. I had never made a whole duck before, only the odd breast here and there. I completely expected it to be much like a chicken when it came to the carving but man that duck put up a fight. Clearly even the slightest difference in anatomy can throw me for a loop. Other than a few awkward minutes of wrestling with its drumsticks, the duck turned out really well.
We had Ben and Jerry's cookie dough ice cream for dessert. I'm not even going to tell you how much I love those little chunks of cookie dough.

*****
Boxing day was especially poignant because we did in fact spend the day with our cardboard boxes, with special appearances by two black sharpies and many rolls of seriously sticky tape. By dinner time we even went so far as to order a pizza, which, as you know, came in a cardboard box.

And then we had some more of that cookie dough ice cream.

*****
In exactly one week's time the movers are coming to take all our stuff away. They're going to lock it up in some container and throw it on a boat. We won't see be seeing it again for anywhere from 6 to 10 weeks. Luckily we still have a ton of stuff in storage in Canada that we never got around to shipping to Europe so we won't be entirely without when we get there. You gotta love it when procrastination ends up working in your favour.

*****
We managed to sell our fridge, but the awkward part is that they're taking it 6 days before we are actually leaving. It's going to be an interesting 6 days. I have a feeling there may be some more of those cardboard boxes in our future.
With extra cheese, please.

Packing up. Again.

one of 7 apartments in the last 4 years..


By some unexpected turn of events G and I find ourselves not settling into a calm after the storm of a wedding and a honeymoon as we had expected to. Instead we are surrounded by boxes, to do lists and a general state of disarray.
Yes, people, we are moving. AGAIN.

But this time it's a little different. We aren't just saying goodbye to jolly old England. We are marking the end of our 4 year European adventure and are finally heading home.

Toronto, here we come.

Two months ago, we had no idea that this is what December would bring. But here we are. We are excited to finally be part of our family and friends lives again- not just in a long distance way, but in a real, everyday sort of way. In 4 years our nieces and nephews have changed so much and, aside from a once a year trip home, we've missed out on their lives completely.

At the same time, it breaks my heart to leave behind the wonder that is around every corner in Europe, the extended family that I have here, and the friends that we have made along the way. And let's not forget the milder weather.
People, I was born and raised in Canada. But I HATE the snow and cold.

So yeah, we're happy and sad at the same time. You know how it is. We're both different people than we were 4 years ago when we left Canada. Our experiences have changed us, without a doubt. Even when I look back at who I was when I started this blog, how I cooked, and how I related to food-- I am not the same person now.
I have learned so much.

It was almost 3 years ago that I wrote my first post-- we were in some little apartment in the middle of Heidelberg. We never really knew when things might suddenly change and we'd be moving again but we took it in stride. Sometimes it was smooth sailing, and sometimes it was all I could do to keep from pulling my own hair out. But it's been an opportunity of a lifetime, and we are grateful for it. If you were reading my blog around the time when we left Paris, I was so stressed out by that point that I actually gave up on the blog. I'm handling it much better this time, but phew, I hope I don't have to move again for a long time.

So our European dream is over. And you know what? Despite the suddenness of the decision, I think we're ready to go home. For 4 years we kept moving, and kept wondering what we were looking for. We kept hoping we would find that perfect city. We never found it. In the end we realized that no matter where we live that without your family and friends there will always be something missing.

So, this little expat is going home. She's taking all her experiences with her and every day that I cook in my new kitchen in Toronto I will be reminded of my travels. When I sip my Mariage Frères tea I will think of Paris, when I see that can of pimenton de la vera in my spice rack I will think of the Borough Market in London and when I sit amongst my friends and family I will remember the 4 years that I was gone.

Wow, people. I'm going home.




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We're heading home on January 8 and since I am in the process of packing up my kitchen please forgive me if I yap more about random stuff and less about cooking for the next couple of weeks!

Busted.

Oh LC. You broke my heart when you broke in half.

Ok yes, I have admitted before that I can at times be clumsy.
But I swear to you, I had no hand in this tragedy.
And I am kind of annoyed about that because it just doesn't make any sense otherwise.

There I was happily tending a roast when I saw that the bottom had started to burn a little. So, I added a splash of sherry.

Now hold on! I know what you're thinking. But the sherry had never in its life been refrigerated. It was as room temperature as room temperature could be.
And this is not a new technique I was employing. I have done this many times before because darn it the recipe said that's what I should do.

You see? I'm completely blameless.

Within only seconds, the whole oven had filled with smoke and there was my roast, teetering on the edge of a broken casserole dish.

I wish I could say that this was a fluke, but people, this is the 2nd Le Creuset casserole dish that I have owned that has met this same sort of unusual fate.

So what the heck is going on? What in the world happened?

I'm stumped people! Is it me, or is it LC? And what does this mean for our future relationship? Will I ever be able to depend on LC again?

Sigh. I'm so confused..

A little bit of miscellaneous

On the cobblestone in front of the Pantheon in Rome. Funny no?


*****
A few days ago I decided the time for homemade hummous had come. It hits me a few times a year. It's one of those foods that doesn't excite me all that much, but every now and then I just feel like beating up some chickpeas. And G likes it, so whatever, right? The problem is that he has recently begun to insist that the chickpeas should be peeled. I thought this was an INSANE idea but I actually found proof of this in other recipes. I was not happy about that.

So this time I actually stood there and peeled 2 cans worth of chickpeas.
Really.

It was about the most tedious thing I can imagine doing. It's not nearly as fun as, say, peeling fava beans, which I actually do get a kick out of. So I'm kind of wondering, do you think it's actually worth it to peel them? Does it affect the flavour of hummous, for instance? I'm hoping you'll say no, but I'm willing to hear your arguments.

*****
On the weekend I bought some pork ribs. I've bought them once before but I just coated them in a homemade barbecue sauce and threw them on the barbie. This would be only the second time in my life buying pork ribs, and this time I had to cook them in the oven. I knew I wanted to use my unopened can of treacle (the British version of dark molasses) and after conferring with a friend, I mixed the treacle up with some sweet chili sauce and soy sauce and lathered it all over the ribs.
Man were those good. Rich and dark like mahogany, slightly sweet with lots of caramelized bits.

They were nice and meaty too, not fatty like some can be. We licked those bones clean I tell you.

And then I knocked my wine over onto our new rug. And while I gasped in horror G just said "I'm glad you were the first one to spill something on it and not me." And then he went back to eating his pork ribs.
Gotta love it.

*****
On Saturday my aunt was in town and we met up at Harrod's intending to do some shopping. We soon realized the golden rule and that is this: Do not go to Harrod's on a Saturday 2 weeks before Christmas. That's all I've got to say about that.

We hightailed it out of there, and hopped in a taxi because it was pouring rain, again. Our destination was Moro. She had never been there before and I LOVE taking people there for the first time. I had chargrilled squid with harissa to start, and my main was a wood roasted pork with chickpea puree and cabbage with pancetta and chestnuts.
Yes, it was good. The main dish felt kind of Christmasy with the chestnuts, and I will take anything that has a sprinkle of pancetta in it.


*****
And I think that's about all I wanted to get off my chest.
Now about that chickpea thing.. Peel or don't peel?



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(click on the label below for my other posts about Moro)

If there was any doubt that Christmas is coming...

The craziest Christmas cactus ever.


Ok, this has nothing to do with food. You cannot eat this. But my Christmas cactus is exploding with blooms and I felt compelled to share. Have you ever seen anything prettier?
All that pink!
G swears he has never seen one quite so.. bloomy..
My thumb is feeling so so green right now.

I have to tell you that I have this thing for plants. When they thrive I feel like a proud mother and it's a wonder I don't keep pictures of all my plants in my wallet to show off to everyone.
How crazy would that be.
It's so much more normal to just put them up on my food blog.
Isn't it?

Roasted cauliflower with a kick.

Before and after: Roasted cauliflower with Sel de Guérande and piment d'Espelette


I know, I know. I can hear you thinking that cauliflower isn't all that exciting.
Tsk tsk I say. Cauliflower is plenty exciting.
I mean, I've been known to sit down with a bowl full of it and if that just doesn't spell fun then I don't know what to say.

If you think about it, tearing it apart can be really therapeutic. You can put all your muscle into it, scrunch your face up, clench your jaw and just give it all you've got. And it makes such a satisfying crunching noise, like it knows you mean business.
So much cheaper than therapy.

Does it sound like I have anger issues? Because I swear to you this is completely innocent.
Although I will admit, sometimes a girl just needs to vent, you know?

And not only does it help you get all your demons out, once you've roasted it you'll realize how crazy good it is. I just can't seem to get enough of it and that whole 'me with a bowl full' was no joke. I love it when it gets those darkly browned bits-- little nubbins of concentrated roasted cauliflower flavour. It's such a sweet reward after all that venting.

So listen, if you've never tried roasting cauliflower before then you just better get right to it. Cancel your weekly therapy session and push up your sleeves.
I mean really, whatcha waitin' for?




Piment d'Espelette for a bit of a kick

Roasted Cauliflower with Piment d'Espelette

Since we're talking about being a bit fiesty, the Piment d'Espelette is important. But feel free to substitute that with whatever inspires you. It's also just as excellent with just salt.

Break a head of cauliflower into florets--they will cook more evenly if you keep them of relatively equal size, but I like to have some with well browned bits, so I break them up into various sizes.
Rinse the florets well and dry with a clean towel or the oil will not stick.

Toss the florets with enough olive oil to coat well. For a large head of cauliflower use a few tablespoons.
Sprinkle with a good pinch of sel de guerande or other crunchy sea salt.
And if you have it, add some Piment d'Espelette to give it a bit of a kick.

Place on a baking sheet, roast at 190c (375f) for 25 to 30 minutes or until desired doneness. (Cooking time will also depend on your oven).


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A little info in English on Piment d'Espelette can be found here

A good egg makes a good aioli.

Aioli made with the best eggs ever..

The night we got back from our trip to Rome we were so tired and our fridge was as empty as it had ever been so we just ordered Indian take out. You know how the Brits like their curries.
But the next night, after a trip to the grocery store to restock, I cooked up a veritable feast. A roasted chicken, some roasted vegetables, some toasted bread crumb salsa from the Zuni cookbook and just for good measure a side of Alice Waters' aioli.

Now let me tell you.
That was some kind of meal.
Maybe it was just the relief of being home, and of having all that wedding madness over with. Maybe.
Or maybe it was just that it tasted so so good.

It was my first time making aioli and I have to admit I did curse a little bit when it did not turn into aioli on my first try. So I grabbed another egg yolk and slowly added my failed batch and lo and behold it started to emulsify. I now know that the key is to add the oil much slower than you may be tempted to. I'm sure that Confuscious once said: "She who rushes the aioli will be disappointed."
Or something like that.

And I swear this aioli was made better by the eggs that I have been completely devoted to for many months now-- they're eggs from rare breed hens which graze outdoors and lay only about 2 or 3 eggs a week. They're produced by Clarence Court and are available at Waitrose. And if you've got nothing better to do on a saturday night you can even watch the hens in action.

I love these eggs-- the yolks are so perky and vibrant--orange almost, and I just think it's so darn cute that they only lay a few eggs a week. Perhaps they're trying to tell us that a good egg can't be rushed.
And I can't say I disagree.



Alice Waters' Aioli recipe
A straightforward recipe, and if it doesn't work the first time there is a fix. Thank god for that.

Clarence Court
the best eggs ever.

Catching up. And the dreaded flash.

There's still more than a week to go before this gal ties the knot. In the meantime, I did celebrate a birthday with more candles on the cake than I care to mention. I was certain that G snuck a few extra in there just to freak me out --I think it was awfully close to being a fire hazard.

With the guests we've had recently I've been cooking up a storm but because it gets completely dark out by oh, about 4:30pm, I am not at all motivated to take pictures. And when I do, I'm forced to use the dreaded flash and things end up looking something like this:

As appetizing as a cookbook from the '70s..

The flash makes everything look super greasy and even though this was some of the FINEST roast pork I have ever made, I wouldn't blame you if these pictures didn't tempt you in the least.

And there have been all sorts of things I didn't even have time to take pictures of. There were some balsamic roasted cherry tomatoes just tossed with some olive oil and balsamic vinegar and roasted in the oven. They looked really cute served up still attached to the vine.

And then there was this deliciously easy sausage bake: pork sausages, sweet potato chunks, preserved lemons, and garlic tossed with a mix of olive oil, honey and water. Add some fresh rosemary and just stuff the whole thing in the oven for about 30 to 40 minutes. It's kind of perfect when your parents come to visit and you practically wear the soles out of your shoes for all the walking they want to do and you're too tired to do anything when you get back but throw a bunch of stuff in a pan and sit down and have a drink (or two) while it cooks. People, I've come to realize that if I want those elusive buns of steel, I just have to invite my parents over for a few days.

It feels naughty to tell you about all this cooking I've been doing without giving you the full details, but people! I'm getting married soon! Even having a birthday in the middle of all this was just a bit more excitement than I could handle.

Anyway, if there's anyone still out there, let me just say this in my best Joey Tribbiani voice:
How YOU doin'?

Because over here? yeah, things are just a bit nutbar.

Time is not on my side..

Holy moses, where does the time go? Didn't I just get off a train from Paris? You're probably thinking I'm still detoxing, that maybe it wasn't going so well and I've been curled up in bed swearing I will never drink wine again. (would never happen by the way, wine and I are the best of friends)

I assure you, I am fully detoxed, but I seem to have been sucked into some sort of time vacuum where I wake up every morning and think:
"Wait. What just happened?"


So I have no idea where the last 7 days have gone and the rest of this one is booked solid. The parents just arrived in jolly old england yesterday, and I am in official tour guide status mode.
Dad has already decided that I make my coffee way too strong. And this is a man who likes strong coffee.
I know, right?

Anyway, the fun is only just beginning. Because after they head off to visit family in the rest of Europe, a super duper* friend of mine from Toronto is coming to stay with us and her and I are going to paint the town red.
Sparkly red.
With maybe some splashes of orange.

Who knew October could be so darn fun?

Now, about that coffee..



*super duper is a phrase that is tragically under used. Don't you think?

And then there was Paris..

So aside from all that tea business there is this matter of how I spent my time on my latest trip to Paris.
I had a whole list of things I wanted to do while I was there and aside from my trip to Mariage Frères, I didn't get a darn thing done. I made my way to L'As du Falafel and wouldn't you know they were closed for renovations for the week. I almost cried. Really. I know, a girl should not go to Paris with falafels on her mind but if you knew how good those things are you would completely understand.

In Paris, like everywhere, it's kind of hit and miss if you decide to just walk into some place you don't know and are hoping for a good meal. Unfortunately my friend Alisa and I, forced to abandon our falafel cravings, chose a serious miss. And although I did eat the potatoes off of the salad nicoise that I ordered, it wasn't at all worth speaking about.

Then there was an impromptu meet up at a cafe at about 4 in the afternoon* which did not end until midnight after much wine was consumed.
A girl cannot get things done when she just sits back and focuses on socializing.
But it's fun that way. And after living there for over a year and a half, it's just kind of how it seems to work out for me lately.

I came home, unloaded 120 pictures from my camera and people, I'm telling you, all of them are of friends, except for this shot up there of the drink of choice of those two that kept me so occupied* on friday afternoon. Oh and of course this guy who always seems to end up on my camera whenever I'm in Paris.


David: always fun at parties..


Then there was the party on Saturday night which my friend and I spent the whole day getting ready for: shopping for groceries, then lunching to recuperate from the shopping, then shopping some more. No there were no strippers at the party but there was a heck of a lot of food, wine, champagne, general chit chat and the obligatory 2 cheek kiss with everyone who comes through the door. A girl needs to keep her tic-tacs handy when she goes to Paris I tell you.
I did not climb into bed until almost 3am.

The next day, as you can imagine, was a total write off and then suddenly here I was back home again with nothing to show for it but some tea and the tail end of a 3 day hangover.

So this week the girl needs to detox. I bought some kale last night just for that purpose and promptly left it on the tube.
You see where my head is at.
This detoxing might take awhile.

___________
*Two of my favourite people, Melissa and her husband, were in town

Off to Paris. And sharing my tea love.

I can't seem to stay away from Paris for too long, so I am off to the city of lights for the rest of the week. The forecast seems to call for clear skies so I'm expecting to do a lot of wandering around. Nothing beats Paris in the Fall, partly because it gives you an excuse to bring all your girliest scarves, even if you are only staying for a few days.

This trip I seem to not be thinking all that much about the food. I'm really just looking forward to seeing friends, hanging out in cafes and just plain being there. And there is the small matter of my bachelorette party that must be seen to.

Yeah, you heard me.
Could it get any better?



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Tea Anyone?

You know how much I love my Mariage Frères tea. And I keep thinking that I would love to share it with some of you guys. I feel cheesy doing this as some sort of contest but I don't know how else to do it! So, here's what I'm thinking: leave me a comment if you are interested and I will put all the names (even if there are only 2 of you!) in a hat and draw for the person who I will send the tea to. When I get back I will announce the 'winner', who can email me with their mailing info. Sound good?

Canadian Thanksgiving. The British way.

Glennans Sweet Potato and Plantain Crisps

This past weekend was Thanksgiving for Canadians and, though G and I were far from our families, we got ourselves a little turkey and celebrated the best way we knew how: jam the turkey in the fridge and head to the local pub for a drink.

It was so nice out we sat outside and nursed our drinks until it was time to head home and get that bird in the oven. Due to some poor planning on my part, half way home I realized I had a full bladder so we had no choice but to pop into another pub and order another drink so that I could use the loo. The turkey was just going to have to wait.

But we finally made it home (with a spring in our step) and while the bird was roasting I made some homemade stuffing, and G got reacquainted with his xbox.

It was just that kind of a perfectly lazy fall weekend. The days are getting shorter (and I was a bit tipsy) so I didn't get a picture of that turkey or the stuffing or anything else for that matter. Except of course for these sweet potato and plaintain chips that I was pretty thrilled with. I think some people aren't all that into the taste of plantain but I am. These things were thick and crunchy, not overly salty or greasy. Just perfect according to me. And they're a great thing to snack on while the turkey is in the oven and taking way longer than you expected it to.

So, now I've got a boatload of extra turkey and a couple of litres of turkey stock taking up all the space in my freezer. But for these two little displaced Canadians it was totally worth it.

*********
Glennan's website
p.s I got those crisps at Waitrose

On a Saturday.

Some feathered friends joined us for a drink by the river..

Blek and learn.

It was the simplest thing, and not the first time I'd made it. Some greek yogurt with a touch of garlic, chunks of cucumber, and some fresh dill. I even deseeded the cucumber as I usually do because I find the seeds bitter. And mushy. And ick.
Anyway, I dug in.

And then I said something like: "Blek" and then "hak" while I cursed the neighbour for singing Christina Aguilera at the top of her lungs.

People, I am no stranger to cucumber and yogurt, so this was a complete surprise.

I struggled with a moment of serious self-doubt.

Perhaps I never had liked this salad.
Was the yogurt the wrong choice? Or the garlic ill-conceived?
Am I just not good at this?
And worst of all, oh my god, do these shoes clash with my outfit?

It was far too much debate for such a small snack. And despite the shoes, I did recall that this cucumber concoction had served me well on many occasions.

So I took a deep breath in hopes of finding some clarity. Jesus stayed mum, and I don't know where Buddha was, so I decided to get my Google on.

And wouldn't you know, (hand on hip), it wasn't me at all. Apparently sometimes the flesh of cucumber is just bitter--some people can taste it and some people can't. There doesn't seem to be a complete understanding of what causes some cucumbers to be bitter but it is related to 2 compounds in the cucumber: cucurbitacin B and C.

Snoring yet? Me too. But the point is, trust your tastebuds and you just might learn something that will make you a better cook next time. I mean at least now I know to taste a cucumber before going to all the trouble to make something with it. But I'm wondering how I managed to avoid a bitter cucumber all these years that this is the first time I bleked* over one.
Small mysteries.
Keeps life exciting I guess.
Now, about those shoes..




*bleked:
verb; past tense of blek, as in 'to blek' or 'eliciting a blek response'

Judion beans, ricotta mustia and I am maybe reading too much MFK Fisher

Judion beans with sun-dried tomatoes, rosemary and ricotta mustia



Start with some plump, cooked judion beans and with a light hand anoint them with your best olive oil. Dip your fingers into a pot of crunchy sel de guérande and take but a pinch! Then watch as the grains tumble recklessly over the ivory beans. Take the pepper mill in hand and let the aggressive crack of the peppercorns ring in your ears. It will take all your willpower to resist the urge to eat the beans right then and there.
But if you do, you will be forgiven.

If you've made it this far, it will serve you well to add a flourish of chopped, marinated, sun-dried tomatoes. And I beg you not to stop until the earthy green of fresh rosemary decorates the bowl. And in the final act, before the curtain is drawn, add a bit of the softest, freshest cheese you can find so that each bite melts into your mouth and does not distract you from the soft, lush beans. Might I humbly suggest ricotta? And if you can find it, I promise you your tastebuds will ignite under the smoky warmth of ricotta mustia.

And I know it may be too much to ask, but if you can resist temptation for just another minute or two, consider how perfect this whole affair would be alongside a fresh arugula salad and a wedge torn from a doughy loaf of bread to mop up every last bit of oil and salt from the bottom of your bowl.

In closing dear friends I must forewarn you that this salad is most certainly the sum of its parts. If the bean on its own does not inspire you, if the sun-dried tomato makes you wince or heaven forbid the olive oil does not make you close your eyes and drift away into your daydreams, well then, might I suggest perhaps a bowl of soup for dinner instead?


**************
The players

*Ricotta mustia = smoked ricotta. I had never heard of this before I saw it at Whole Foods last week. And wow, it is some kind of smoky! It has a fantastic flavour. It runs the risk of overpowering anything you put it with so I think it must be used carefully.

Judion beans--a Spanish butter bean. You may be surprised to learn that I bought mine in a jar. These jars are easily found in the UK at Sainsbury's and Waitrose and the Borough Market, as they are imported from Spain by Brindisa. They are big white beans and probably a bit softer than they should be because they are sitting in brine, but I LOVE THEM. If you want to cook your own from dried, be my guest. Additionally, I think any canned white bean would be ok as a substitute. The main thing is that they taste good just on their own --if you're not starting out with a good bean then this "non-recipe" won't taste like much.

I am in love with Waitrose brand chargrilled sundried tomatoes. G and I throw them on everything --from pizza to chickpeas to arugula salads. Everytime we move it takes me a while before I find a brand of marinated sundried tomatoes that doesn't leave me disappointed. The first time I tried this brand I was hooked.

Olive oil- if there's one thing I have learned not to skimp on, it's good olive oil.


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Post disclaimer: No, I haven't lost my mind. I'm just in the middle of reading this.

On a mission.

Emerald Sesame Kale

It's time that I confess that this girl is on a serious mission. In about 7 weeks time I will be donning a wedding dress and saying 'I do' to that beau-hunk of mine, otherwise known as G. This means that these days I am paying an unusual amount of attention to the size of every pore on my face, the strength and shine of every strand of hair on my head and yes, of course, any extra jiggle in my walk.
Seven weeks and counting.

So now maybe you understand why it is that when I walked into Whole Foods the other day I avoided all those decadent things at the prepared foods counter and opted for a big old serving of their Emerald Sesame Kale.
This stuff was seriously green.
So green, in fact, it made me feel like my skin was going to instantly glow the minute I took that first bite. I even got them to throw in some roasted asparagus and baby bok choy with miso just to show them how serious I was about this whole thing.

I'm aiming for glowing skin here people, and I am going to show no mercy.

It was the most ridiculous looking pile of stuff and even the most forgiving eye would admit that it didn't look all that appetizing in it's plastic container. But like I said, I'm on a mission.
Admittedly, the asparagus and the bok choy were consumed with little fanfare.
But that kale.
Oh my, that green, green kale.
I had no idea kale could be that good. Maybe that's not saying much coming from a girl who doesn't buy it all that often, but I think I may now be officially converted.

Unfortunately, it seems that Whole Foods saves their best recipes for their cookbook. They seem to have a recipe by this name in there but the full recipe is not posted on their website.

However, I did manage to find two recipes with the exact same name and same ingredient list so I think I may be on to something. But if anyone out there has the real deal, you will give me a nudge, won't you?


*************
If you're interested, the 2 recipes I found both contain: kale, sesame oil, sesame seeds, garlic and soy sauce. I haven't tested these recipes yet but the ingredient list does give us a good head start, don't you think?

Emerald Sesame Kale from Open Harvest
Emerald Sesame Kale from Outpost Natural Foods

Feeling warm and fuzzy with Chandernagor Tea

Chandernagor Tea from Mariage Frères

It's been a while since we've talked about tea, hasn't it? Even though I no longer live in Paris, my love for Mariage Frères has not faded. Despite the fact that I can't just pop into their tea shop on a whim anymore, my collection doesn't seem to be getting any smaller. When I moved I really stocked up. The other day I realized that if I told you about a different one that I own once a week, we'd still be talking about my collection well passed Spring of 2008.

That is a lot of tea. And you know how I love to talk about it.

So let me tell you about this tongue twister of a tea called Chandernagor. I can't remember when exactly it was that I was first introduced to it, but I was still in Paris and it was cold and raining. I was meeting a cousin of mine and her friends for drinks. We settled on some Moroccan place just across from Les Halles, a corner joint with low lighting, lots of candles and comfy couches. My cousin and I got there early and settled our rain soaked selves into a couch by the window. And wouldn't you know, they had Mariage Frères tea on the menu.
Cut to us feeling cozy and relaxed with 2 steaming cups of Chandernagor tea warming us with the scent of cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, ginger and pepper.

I was instantly in love with it. And it didn't take long before it nudged itself into my collection.

The Chandernagor blend reminds me of chai tea and I'm sure it would lend itself well to being steeped in milk considering it is just a blend of spices. Having said that, I'm wondering why the heck I haven't done that yet. In my defense, the tea is so charming on it's own that I rarely think to mess with it. But now that the colder weather is here I think I might just give it a try.

Is it weird that I feel all warm and fuzzy just talking about it?


*******
-the tea is named after a French trading post in India
-click the Mariage Frères label below to see my other posts about their tea

The colours of Fall..

Man, I love the internet.... Doesn't it just look so darn yummy?


*Click each picture for it's corresponding link, mouse over for it's description.

Braised baby bok choy

I gotta tell you that I think baby bok choy is one of the snazziest looking vegetables around. I mean look at it, how perfect is that colour and that shape? But no matter how much I try to convince G of its visual appeal, he is still not a big fan of its slightly bitter taste. (I'm sure he's not the only one).

So, I do what any baby bok choy lovin' gal would do: buy it and eat the whole damn thing herself. (And it's kind of fun to say "baby bok choy", don't you think? It has the same appeal on the lips as that "baby back, baby back, baby back ribs" thing.)

Believe it or not I recently came home with some UK grown baby bok choy.
UK grown!
I kid you not.
And I usually do the same old thing with it--steam it and top it with a dressing made of soy sauce, sesame oil, a bit of sugar, some water and dried chilies.
But this time I threw caution to the wind and braised it, with a little help from Epicurious.
I mean it's bok choy people, it doesn't need to be complicated, right?

Braised baby bok choy with a shot of sesame oil



The recipe at Epicurious for Braised Baby Bok Choy calls for the bok choy to be braised in a cup of chicken stock and 3 tablespoons of butter for about 5 minutes until tender. (With the lid on the pan! And note that I cut the bok choy in half down its length.) Then you remove the bok choy, reduce the stock to about 1/4 cup, then add 1/2 teaspoon of sesame oil and pour this over the bok choy.

Since G was having none of this, I couldn't justify 3 tablespoons of butter. So, I used only a tablespoon but I still got a good wollop of yummy butteryness- the liquid gets all tucked into the leaves as they wilt. I can only imagine how sinfully good it must taste with 3 tablespoons.
And in the end, just before eating it, I could not resist adding a sprinkle of sesame seeds, because a girl needs her omega 6.
Some of the reviews suggest adding a shot of soy sauce as well which is a suggestion that I wholeheartedly support.

Ispahan jam makes it all taste so good

Greek yogurt topped with Ispahan Jam and smothered in fruit

Cindy's recent ode to her Christine Ferber jam reminded me that I had promised to tell you about the Ispahan jam I bought on my last trip to Paris in July. If you had read about the first time I tried the famous Ispahan dessert, you would know that I was more than a bit disappointed. Despite that, something about the combination of rose, raspberry and lychee fruit stuck with me. So not long after that I decided to try Pierre Hermé's version.
And oh. It was good.
Since then I get a little excited when faced with any dish containing rosewater. (Moro's rosewater and cardamom ice cream is the stuff of my dreams).

A close friend of mine and I agree on most things when it comes to food, but my love for rosewater is the one thing where our palates seem to differ. In fact, just the mere mention of it and she breaks out into some rather amusing facial contortions. I'm starting to think it's like cilantro, you either love it or you hate it. And have you ever noticed that those who don't like cilantro seem really passionate about hating it? Is there no one who is just kind of on the fence about it?

So anyway, in July when I was in Paris I decided to buy a jar of Christine Ferber's (made for Hermé) ispahan jam to take back home with me. People, I could kick myself for never having tried it before. The jam has a rich, vibrant colour, and its 3 main flavours meld perfectly, none of them overpowering the other. You rosewater haters are probably scrunching up your noses right now, but you are just going to have to pipe down for a minute.

It has a somewhat runny (as far as jam goes) consistency which makes it perfect for adding to yogurt which is how I've been indulging in it lately. And now that it's berry season I can't resist smothering the whole thing with strawberries, raspberries, blackberries and yes, even bananas.

You might think I was a bit heavy handed with the fruit but it just tastes so darn good. Thank goodness Paris is only a short train ride away because I'm getting awfully close to the bottom of that jar.


****
You can get this jam at the Pierre Hermé shops in Paris.

Branded.

Farmhouse Bread from Secrett's Farm Shop in Surrey, U.K.

How cute is that?

Me and my cravings.

Seared tuna with spring onion and carrot salad

I am very susceptible to bursts of enthusiasm when it comes to food. Perhaps they are better referred to as phases, or even cravings. Some of it is the fault of the seasons: when asparagus season arrived this year I ate it twice a day. G thought I had lost my mind but by the time the season had ended I still hadn't tired of it.

Then there was this cumin and carrot salad that I really should tell you about--it's light and healthy and tastier than you would imagine an average carrot salad could be--and a few months ago, I made it almost daily. Eventually, I moved on, and while that carrot salad is still a definite favourite, it is no longer an obsession.

Sometimes it's a particular spice that grabs my attention for awhile, or a particular method of cooking. And yes, since we're talking about cravings, I will admit that sometimes a girl just wants to ditch it all and sit down with a big old bag of doritos.
But lately I've been experiencing a repeated craving which is a first for me.

Spring onions.

Usually I only buy spring onions when they are called for in a dish, otherwise I have no use for them. They are not one of those staples that I always have on hand like carrots or red onions or garlic. But these days I find myself making things just so that I can use spring onions.
I wish I could explain this one, but I'm stumped.

Nonetheless, I most recently satisfied my craving with an asian style dish of seared tuna with a spring onion and carrot salad. And because I had some time on my hands I tried to make the dish look all fancy pants. A girl needs a bit of glamour in her life sometimes, you know?

I'm no Top Chef, but it sure is fun to try every now and then. It's not until you have a look at your pictures later that you realize that perhaps you were a bit sloppy and maybe next time you need to apply yourself a bit more. But I swear it looked pretty darn perfect in real life. And my little spring onion and carrot salad, as simple as it was, made the dish.



Seared tuna with sugar snap peas and a spring onion and carrot salad
Serves 2

The spring onion and carrot salad
1 to 2 carrots
the green parts of 2 spring onions
a pinch or two of sesame seeds (white or black or both)
Dressing:
1 tsp toasted sesame oil
1 tsp soy sauce
1/4 tsp rice wine vinegar

I was in a patient mood when I made this and actually cut fine ribbons of both the spring onion and carrots by hand. If you have a tool that will make this step easier then I am extremely jealous of you.

Blanch the carrots in simmering water until they were pliable like noodles. I did this so that I could twist them easily with the green onions. The length of time you blanch the carrots will depend on how thinly you managed to slice them.
Drain the carrots and dry them off on a clean kitchen towel.
Mix the dressing ingredients together.
Toss the spring onions and carrots with the dressing, and let sit for at least 20 minutes before serving so the green onions will soften.

You can easily make more of this, just double the dressing if you need to. And if you prefer more carrot and less green onion, or vice versa, that works too.


The sugar snap peas
A handful per person.
Steam until crisp tender. Dry with a clean kitchen towel. Toss with a bit of toasted sesame oil. They don't need much, maybe 1/2 a teaspoon for 2 handfuls of snap peas.

Seared Tuna
2 tuna steaks
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp rice vinegar
salt and pepper
2 tsp peanut oil

Combine the soy sauce and rice vinegar and add to the tuna in a ziploc bag or a tupperware container. Make sure the tuna is coated in the marinade. Marinade for at least 30 minutes.
Remove from marinade and sprinkle both sides with a bit of salt and pepper.
Sear the tuna in peanut oil in a non-stick pan until desired doneness, about 4 minutes per side. If you have a good piece of tuna it would be a shame to overcook it. (I'm guilty of that)

Assembling the dish
Basically just do as pictured, with maybe I bit more tidiness to your flair than I managed. Lay the snap peas on the bottom, top with the tuna, and finally the carrot salad. Sprinkle sesame seeds over the top and serve. Set out some extra soy sauce at the table if desired.

Notes:
Snow peas would be an easy substitution for the sugar snap peas. You could also just put the tuna on top of some white rice if you wanted and in that case I would definitely serve it with some extra soy sauce alongside the dish.

Baharat. A new word in my vocabulary.

On my last trip to Moro, my lunch date and I swooned over an appetizer of spinach encased in the softest dough, wrapped much like a samosa. The spinach was flavoured with a mixture of spices that had us completely entranced. I don't even remember what the dish was called* but at the time the two of us drifted off for a moment as we tried to decipher what this heavenly flavour was. I was certain there was nutmeg and she was equally certain she could detect cumin. We finally asked our server to settle the matter once and for all. She headed off to ask the kitchen and came back with a piece of paper in hand and the word Baharat on it. She confirmed that it was a mix of not only nutmeg and cumin but several other spices. My lunch date and I pondered this new word in our vocabulary with more than a bit of awed appreciation.

Since it is just a mix of spices you might already have in your cupboard you could easily make it at home. I would love to tell you that I did that, but alas, I cheated. When I was at the Whole Foods the other day I saw it there on the shelf and couldn't resist taking the easy way out. The mix that I bought is made right here in the UK by Steenbergs and according to its ingredient list this baharat contains paprika, pepper, cumin, coriander seed, cassia, cloves, cardamom, and nutmeg. It is apparently widely used in areas surrounding the Persian Gulf to flavour mutton. Slight variations in its ingredient list are not uncommon, as you will see if you happen to do a google search on it.

It has a warm and musky scent; mellow but not lacking oomph. It was a great addition this past weekend to some greek yogurt which I served with spiced meatballs and flatbread. (oh I could sing the praises of greek yogurt for hours.)

I have an overflowing spice cupboard as it is but I always will gladly make room for more, especially one that is a wee bit exotic. A girl should never underestimate the power of a thrilling spice cupboard.

I'll keep you posted on my experiments with it, in the meantime I'm more than happy to get my thrill by taking a whiff from the jar every now and then.


________________

Update: check out Saveur's description and recipe for a Syrian version of Baharat as well as a Turkish version

*I have since been reminded by my 'lunch date with a fabulous memory' that the appetizer was called a fetayer, which seems to be spelled a multitude of ways including "fatayer". Here's some more google for you, there seems to be alot of variations.

More Food Love.

Soba noodles with crispy tofu, avocado and microgreens

I took a little trip to the new Whole Foods on Kensington High Street the other day with Clotilde and came home with 2 bags full of happiness. We spent 2 hours wandering around that store and if it wasn't for our overflowing baskets and our need for a caffeine fix, we probably could have kept on going. Seriously people, it was 3 floors of magic. You have never seen two gals reading peanut butter labels so closely while discussing the merits of smooth (my preference) versus crunchy (her preference).
By the time I got home I was exhausted but my weary bones did not keep me from digging into my new stash and whipping up a soba noodle salad with some crispy tofu and the cutest little microgreens a girl ever did see. They are a micro combination of Red Mustard, Broccoli, Mizuna, Rocket and Coriander called Ed's Wild Mix from Secrett's Farm in West Sussex.

The next morning I couldn't resist using those little microgreens again for my first ever homemade breakfast burrito. It was a momentous occasion. The burrito idea was inspired by another Whole Foods find: super thin wholewheat flatbreads (almost as thin as filo) called Mountain bread. I scrambled some eggs, and wrapped them up with greens inside the flatbread and oy!
Who knew I could be so thrilled by a breakfast burrito?



There are still some other exciting ingredients that I bought that I have yet to dig into, but just knowing they are there waiting to be discovered has me all giddy. I haven't felt this thrilled by a grocery store since my days in Paris, exploring the Grande Epicerie. There were no unicorns to be found, but it was pretty magical nonetheless.


Whole Foods
The Barkers Building
63–97 Kensington High Street
London W8 5SE



*************
The Soba Salad

I tossed the noodles, some shredded carrots, and sliced green onions with a dressing of sesame oil, rice vinegar and soy sauce. Then I tossed in the microgreens. I pan fried some tofu strips in peanut oil and added this to the noodles. (I fry the tofu strips so that they are crunchy on the outside with still a bit of softness in the middle--you can fry them more or less to your taste.)
Finally, I added some chopped avocado and sprinkled some sesame seeds on top for good measure.

September evenings with roasted chicken

Sunday night was one of those cool and quiet sort of nights, where it's warm enough to justify a cold bottle of white wine, but it's cool enough to warrant drinking it with a sweater on.

We sat outside noticing how the light is already beginning to change, it's less vibrant but somehow cozier. I still can't believe it's already September, we've been here 9 months and I feel like I just got here, like I'm still settling in. But such has been my life for the last 4 years, always feeling unsettled, with a suitcase at the ready in case we move again.

I don't have to tell you that I'm grateful for all these experiences. Four countries in four years is something I never imagined for my life.

But sometimes, on a quiet September evening, a girl just wants to sit back and feel like she's firmly planted, to wiggle her toes in the grass and know that at this time next year, she'll be staring at the same grass.

I know that it's not likely going to end up that way. The neighbours upstairs fight all the time and the traffic outside our window is noisy and rushed. Between the two of them, sometimes there's just no room left for my own thoughts.

And I'm a girl who likes her peace and quiet.
Sometimes I like to turn the stereo up, loud, but sometimes I just prefer to turn the damn thing off.
If only my neighbours had an off switch.

So yeah. It's September. Cold wine, a warm sweater, a handsome fella, and Zuni's roasted chicken with bread salad. It doesn't get much better.



I have never had this dish in the restaurant but I have made it many many times at home. Unfortunately I wasn't paying all that much attention to getting a good picture (can you blame me?) so these will just have to do.
Luckily for me, the whole recipe and instructions are already posted online at MSNBC right here.
G and I both love this dish---it looks and tastes divine.



Rushing to take a picture so we could get to the business of eating.

How it begins.

You lay in bed, wide awake, but it feels too early to get up. The birds outside seem to have lots to discuss, but the sun is not quite ready to make its appearance. The person beside you is breathing the breath of deep sleep, and you can tell it will be awhile before he opens his eyes.

So you stay there a bit longer. Lying on your back you put one arm behind your head and stare at the ceiling. Then you turn on your side, taking your pillow with you, but it doesn't calm your restlessness. You push the covers off you, and splash some cold water on your face in the bathroom sink. You look at yourself in the mirror as you brush the knots out of your hair.

You walk back into the kitchen and see those bananas again, and you wonder if you let them go past their prime on purpose. This isn't the first time.

You look at the clock.
6:10 a.m.
You remind yourself that he can sleep through anything.

So you get out the eggs, the butter, the sugar and milk and start mashing those bananas in a bowl. And the rest of the ingredients follow, now cluttered on your kitchen counter. You pour the lumpy batter into the muffin pan, and slide them into the oven. As they bake, you make yourself a cup of coffee, the smell of the dark roast mixing with the warm scent of bananas and nutmeg.

You sit down in the living room, coffee in hand, and consider reading your book, but instead you just stare out the window, where nothing is happening.

The birds chirp, and quiet snores drift in from the bedroom.

The oven dings and another weekend begins.

Eating my way to back to health.

Quinoa stuffed acorn squash

After a week of drowning in kleenex and misery a girl re-emerges with a strong desire to get back to her old self. I figured that if I couldn't fight that cold with muscles and moxy then perhaps the only thing I could do to defend myself was to eat healthy.
Ok there was that one night where we polished off a bag of Doritos. But people, we were sick, and we needed comfort of the kind that covers your fingers with orange cheesy powder.
In my defense, I started the following day with a fruit smoothie, which left me feeling fully redeemed for my previous night's indulgence.
A girl has to live.

But the point I'm trying to make here is an important one. And it goes something like this:
Mmm mm! That squash was good.
I felt like I just threw Autumn on a plate and ate it all up.
And Autumn? You sure are one tasty treat.

I'm not sure I even want to tell you that I've had a bag of red quinoa in my cupboard for over a year gathering dust. I even dutifully packed it up when we moved here from Paris. You'd think that what with a new city and a new cupboard that perhaps the quinoa would get noticed. Well it took 8 months, but it finally did.

If there is any thing that might knock this cold on its ass it's got to be this stuffed squash. Even if it hadn't tasted good, which it did, it just looked so darn pretty I started feeling healthy before I even sat down to eat it.

Now that is some kind of moxy.


______________________________
Quinoa Stuffed Acorn Squash

The squash
I cut the acorn squash in half and scooped out the seeds. I brushed lightly with olive oil and sprinkled with salt and pepper, then roasted for about 40 minutes at 200c (that's 392F, but I guess just round up to 400F)

The quinoa
I cooked the red quinoa as per the package directions. In a frying pan I sauteed some onion and finely sliced carrots in olive oil. I added some chopped garlic, a bit of ground allspice and pimenton de la vera, (a spice combo used in the Moro cookbook). Then I added the quinoa to the pan and tossed it all together and topped with fresh coriander and some crumbled feta. Finally, I put this into the roasted squash and served it.
Note:
Goat cheese would also be good instead of the feta.

Sick, and a bit grumpy, but still baking.

Sick as a dog but I did manage to bake these..

This has been the suckiest week in the history of sucky weeks. What started out as a simple sore throat has turned into a nasty, nasty cold. And because my parents always taught me to share, G is now afflicted as well.

I can't remember the last time he and I have been laid up sick at the same time. Our living room is currently littered with mugs, kleenex, and reading materials, with just enough space left for 2 pyjama-clad grumps.
Luckily, G seems to have developed a rather comical cough and I find myself breaking out in laughter every time he does it, which is about oh, every 2 minutes or so.
I know, this could be a sign that I'm taking too much cough medicine, but sometimes a girl needs to make her own fun, right? (and when did cough medicine start tasting so good?)

Needless to say, our weekend does not look promising. But we do have a good arsenal of movies in our apartment. It may just be a fight over feel-good chick flicks or movies in which many things are detonated and/or killed.

Pass the kleenex, it's going to be a long couple of days..



------------------------
The Muffins

The recipe for Banana-Macadamia Nut Muffins is from Epicurious. I only had pecans on hand so that is what I used. They clearly haven't cured our colds, but they sure tasted good. And sometimes, that's as much as you can hope for.

Barbecues, corn on the cob and other stuff

more fun with my camera.. and some red onion lollies..

This weekend G and I could not resist the sunny weather so we fired up the barbie not once but twice.

I made a horribly embarrassing potato salad but we did have good luck with some corn on the cob that we threw on the grill, husks and all. G was skeptical when I told him it could be done this way, and as the husks began to char (and occassionally catch flame despite having been soaked for 2 hours prior) I began to wonder if maybe he was right.

But I'm happy to report that he was not. Score one for me.

In Canada fresh corn is just something you take for granted. Since moving away I think this is the first time we've ever bought cobbed corn. It's not as easy to find and when you do find it, it tends to look a little sad. But I happened to find a local variety that seemed perky enough so I took the plunge.

Good thing I did because they were fantastic. We didn't say a word to each other the whole time we ate them, kernels flying and butter dripping. I only stopped once to point out that he eats his typewriter style while I prefer to go all the way around in segments starting at one end of the cob and slowly making my way to the other.
I received something like a grunt in reply and then all our concentration went right back to the corn.

I also tried my first hard cider this weekend and I'm not so sure it's my thing. I was expecting the smell of apples but instead it rather smelled like cheese. Oozy cheese. Is that normal?

Either way, it looks like I may have to start wearing my SPF in Britain after all. It's been gathering dust in the cupboard for the last 2 months. I'm not sure how long this sunny weather will last but in the meantime, that barbecue is going to get one hell of a workout.

More sandwiches, curbside

Mine: artichokes and basil and feta and I can't remember what else
Melissa's: roasted eggplant and red peppers, arugula, ricotta..

Since some of you are just as enthused about the curbside lunch as I am, I thought it only prudent that I post some more pictures that were just taking up space on my computer.

The Sunday before last Melissa was in town and we ended up strolling along Portobello Road (where a very cute bracelet was purchased by yours truly) and having lunch at Gail's. I wrote about their sandwiches before but didn't have an actual picture of the one that stole my heart, so finally here is a picture of 2 of their sandwiches. And I'm happy to report they did not disappoint.

The yellow line in the picture is clear indication that this was indeed a most authentic curbside lunch. It was a beautiful and sunny day and there was not a single table available for us, so this pair of hungry girls just had to make do.

Of course, then we made our way to a pub for a pint, but that's another story..


------------------------------
Gail's
138 Portobello Road
London, W11 2DZ

64 Hampstead High Street
London, NW3 1QH

Lunch at the Borough Market

Barbecued chorizo on a bun with arugula and piquillo peppers

Every food lover who comes to London knows about the Borough Market. I certainly had heard of it and knew that it would be one of the first places I would go. And I had no doubt that I would like it. Of course I would. But people, I don't just like it. I LOVE it.

And I love it even more on Fridays.

On Fridays, all the suits working in the neighbourhood come to the market for a "hand-held" lunch. Then they go to the nearest pub for a pint and spill onto the streets, drinks in hand, for some chit chat and some people watching. Most of the time it's so busy you have to squeeze your way through the beer glasses just to get anywhere. Normally I hate a crowd, but this one makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

It's going to be a long time before I can safely say that I have tried most of the hand-held lunch options that are available there. But I can tell you that I do get a tremendous thrill from Brindisa's barbecued chorizo on a bun with arugula and piquillo peppers. There is always a line up there, but I have never been not willing to wait.
There are no tables at which to sit and eat, but the curb in the front of the Brindisa stand is always full of people sitting down, and assuming the proper eating position: legs spread apart so as not to drip chorizo juice on their trousers.

In Paris, you wouldn't dare buy something at the market then park yourself on the nearest curb and dig in. They would probably demand to see your passport and put you on the next flight out of there.
But here it's all part of the charm. The Borough Market has a social aspect to it that I absolutely love, even if I go alone and it means sitting off to the side and just watching everyone else being social. I am skilled at the art of being a wallflower. So, if you see some gal sitting by herself, smiling, with chorizo juice on her face and arugula in her teeth, that's probably me. (Clearly, I am also skilled at the art of making myself sound like a loser.)

The best part is, when you're done, you can wander back through the market and take your time selecting your dessert.

Oh, and of course, get some shopping done if that's what you had intended to do in the first place.


Brindisa website

Addicted to colour..

-yogurt with apricots and strawberries and toasted marcona almonds
-rosemary roasted carrots with arugula, feta, sundried tomatoes


I guess there are worse addictions, huh...

Lunch at Zuma

With all this seriously impressive sushi making going on, I realized that I forgot to tell you about our lunch at Zuma on the weekend.

I kept trying to get reservations but G and I are last minute people; we hate to be tied down to a schedule and generally prefer to go out for dinner when the whim strikes us. And every time I called (usually the same day) they were always full.
Yeah, I know our methods don't really work if you want to go to a popular restaurant.
But what can you do.
So we settled for a lunch reservation last weekend and made sure to eat light the night before so we'd be in top form for this much anticipated meal.

We had no agenda, it was the first sunny Saturday in what seemed like forever, so we ordered a bottle of wine. (I did say the sun is worth celebrating, right?) It was some French number that had 4 different kinds of grapes in it (including Chardonnay) that we liked so much G pulled out his camera phone and snapped a pic of the label.

The decor in Zuma is nice, the way you'd expect an upscale sushi place to be. Soft lighting, with minimal but warm decor. We were surprised at how many families with children there were, including one yummy mummy in some seriously fierce Louboutins. I contemplated how one manages a 3 year old in a pair of those, but perhaps that is just a skill that some women master for the sake of fashion.

Nonetheless with our wine chilling in an ice bucket at the side of our table, we tuned it all out (except for my repeated glances at those shoes)..

So on to the food.
We ordered number of small dishes from the menu and of course some sushi. Dishes were brought out one at a time, with a bit of overlap so that we were never sitting there waiting for the next one. In the order it arrived, we had:


*Spicy fried tofu with avocado salad and japanese herbs.
*Chilled soba noodle and lobster salad
*Tuna tartare with miso, myoga and lotus root crisps.
*A sushi plate consisting of a dynamite spider roll (softshell crab, chili mayonnaise, cucumber and wasabi) and the spicy tuna roll (tuna, homemade chili miso and yuzy tobiko)

Believe it or not, after all that, we still had a wee bit of room in our bellies for some more so we both chose one more item from the menu. I opted for the crispy fried squid with green chili and garlic (aka calamari) and G went for the california roll.

For dessert:
I had the green tea and banana cake with coconut ice cream and peanut toffee sauce.
And G chose the lemon croquettes with a rhubarb compote and ice cream, but we forget what kind.

Let me just tell you. It has been a long while since G and I have had a stellar sushi meal. Sure, we have our favourites--the quick no-frills kind of places that you can just walk into on most nights. But every now and then you want to step it up a bit you know?
We were thrilled with the whole Zuma experience. The food, the wine, the service. The tofu dish was stellar, and the lobster salad was fresh and lively. My least favourite dish was the tuna tartare. Although it was good, I thought the dressing overwhelmed the tuna a bit. G on the other hand raved about it. So there you go.
The sushi was well done, although our spider roll wasn't as hot and crispy as we tend to like it, but the pieces were not so overly sized that I risked choking myself to death. The spicy tuna roll and the california roll were also nicely done.
And we both agreed we had never had better calamari. Perfectly seasoned and salted, my mouth waters just thinking about it.
As for dessert, my green tea and banana cake was to die for. With the toffee and the ice cream, all I can say is oy. I didn't even pay attention to G's dessert but he seemed to like it.

We lingered there for over 2 hours by which point all the kids had left and we were both a bit tipsy and a lot happy.
A perfect date, no?
Yeah, well, then we went to see Die Hard 4.
Sometimes, you wonder if they don't just take you out for a nice lunch so that you'll let them pick the movie.
You know what I'm saying, girls?
I think you do.

ZUMA
5 Raphael Street
Knightsbridge
London, SW7 1DL
Tube: Knightsbridge

Note: the online menu does not even cover half of what is actually on offer at the restaurant. And apparently reservations are not needed if you want to sit at the sushi bar, which actually looked kind of fun.

A barbecue is the only way to celebrate..

Even I have trouble believing it: A picture taken outdoors with not a drop of rain in sight.

The only proper way to celebrate the arrival of this strange thing called 'sun' was to barbecue some meat and wash it down with some wine. (Actually it's kind of the proper way to celebrate any occassion, isn't it?)

Granted, I was concerned by the barbecue's close proximity to that rickety wooden fence. But G said not to worry and so I sat back and kept that glass of wine from feeling ignored.
What else is a girl to do? The man lives dangerously and I just have to take it in stride. He did point out that if the fence did catch on fire there was a glass of water on hand to douse the flames.

Right.

So while the flames settled and he took charge of all things meaty, I nibbled on some potato salad based on a recipe from the 2nd Moro cookbook.



Made with fresh oregano from my window box.

Woot! I can grow green stuff!

It was an embarrasingly simple recipe--start with a dressing made of garlic pounded to a paste with salt, then add olive oil and some lemon juice. Toss the dressing on some boiled potatoes, chopped red onion and top it off with some salt and pepper to taste and some fresh oregano.
Simple, yes, but perfectly tasty.

There was also more of Ina Garten's homemade barbecue sauce, and a nectarine chutney* which proved to be a great way to use up the nectarines that had gone a bit too soft for my taste.

And the wine was good too.
That sun thing? I kind of like it.


------------------------
*the nectarine chutney was from Annie Somerville's Everyday Greens. A mix of chopped nectarines, sugar, red onion, cinnamon, cayenne, mace and fresh ginger cooked over a low heat until the fruit is softened. It was great with our barbecued steaks.

Woot! A new camera!

Pics of flowers, just because I can!

The day my camera broke was a sad day for me. I have been mourning it for almost 9 months.
Don't ask me why I waited so long to get a new one. Sometimes one must mourn at their own pace.
Sure, perhaps it was the laziness and not so much the mourning that is to blame.

Since that fateful day I've been using my wee "purse cam".. You know, that little one you buy to carry with you wherever you go?
I kept telling myself that that should be enough.
It's small and handy and silver--it matches my jewelry, you know?
But I lost a bit of steam people. I really did.
It was like owning an Ipod, losing it and reverting back to a walkman.
I know, it's a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm sure you understand.

But finally, oh happiness and joy, I am the proud owner of a brand spanking new digital SLR. (The Canon 400d if you are interested!)
And of course I've been taking pics of everything within arms reach of me. My socks, the doorknob, random hair elastics in the bedroom.

I'm feeling a bit out of practice, but it feels good to rediscover a beloved hobby again...

Did I already say Woot? Because I really mean it.

I bet this tastes better when Zuni does it..

Farro and Tomato Salad with Basil and Anchovies

I recently crossed another food "first" off of my list.
It goes by the name of Farro.
Ok, so you probably eat it all the time and you are shocked that I have never had it OR made it myself.
But for those of you aren't so well acquainted with farro, let me get technical for a second.
Farro, is an ancient variety of wheat, and it is very commonly eaten in Italy.
To put it even more simply: farro is like a bowl full of little wheat nubbins.
And I do love a big bowl full of nubbins.

The only farro recipe I could find in my cookbooks came from Zuni. My instincts nudged me at first. No, they actually screamed at me and told me to NOT follow this recipe. And before I proceed, let me just state this is not an attack on Zuni, this is just me knowing my tastebuds and that's that.
I loves me some Judy Rodgers so don't even go there.

First of all the combination of tomato and cucumber bores me (don't come near my tabbouleh with that cucumber!) Add basil to the mix and I am pretty much down for the count and snoring loudly.

Ok, maybe you love the combination, but this is not always about you, ok?

But I figured it was Zuni, I had to give it a shot. Yes, I have faith in the almighty Zuni.
And who knew, maybe with the anchovies this would be some miraculous combination that would change my life forever.

I cooked the farro for about 10 minutes, and let it cool. I then added some chopped tomato, cucumber and a couple of salt-packed anchovies. I tossed it with a mix of olive oil and sherry vinegar. Finally, I added some fresh basil and some salt and pepper and dug in.

Alas, it did not change my life forever.

But I tried, and that's what counts.

The good news is, I sure do like farro. Hearty and chewy and, well, hearty some more.

And have no fear, I did eat that bowl of misguidedness. I mean it was fine, but I did feel some regret about the fabulous farro salad I could have had if I had followed my instincts in the first place.

And the truth is, that I bet this farro salad tastes fabulous when Judy Rodgers has a hand in making it. I bet she has some magical pixie dust that she sprinkles over it at the end that would just make me want to eat it all the time. But alas, said pixie dust cannot be found in my cupboards, and last I checked, there was no Judy Rodgers in there either.

But at least there is Farro in my life now. I can definitely see some wheaty nubbin happiness in my future.

Introducing the bacon hat. Or: Please don't take a picture of me on a Saturday morning.

I told a friend recently that I can't do anything in the morning until I've had a shower.
She asked me a very valid question: "But don't you just love being lazy on the weekends and hanging out in your pj's?"

Oh boy do I.

I love it so much I will wake up on the weekend, head straight for the shower, get myself all cleaned up, and get back into my pyjamas to enjoy a slow and lazy morning in a state of perfect cleanliness.

Perhaps it's cheating, but this is how I roll.

Lately however, something is beginning to cramp my style.
And it goes by the name of Bacon.

Lately when I cook it the bacon fumes seem to be absorbed into every single strand of hair on my head. It is especially potent if you prefer smoked bacon, such as we do. It stays in there all day and every time I move my head I get a whiff of it. Even when I go to bed, I am still carrying around a halo of bacon.

I don't remember this being an issue for me before. Perhaps British bacon just has that kind of staying power.

This past weekend when the time for making bacon presented itself, I found myself hesitating.
I mean, I was already fresh and clean and my hair smelled like sunshine and lollipops.

So I expressed my concern to G.
He listened very, very intently but offered me no advice.
Mostly because he thinks I am insane.

A few minutes later he discovered that I had found my solution. There I stood with a frying pan in hand, and my freshly washed and dried hair tucked safely inside a shower cap.

And thus was born the bacon hat.

It's not sexy people, but put a girl in some skimpy pj's with a frying pan full of bacon in her hand, and I'm pretty sure your man won't even notice the shower cap.


Seriously.

Chicken pot pie in summer? Oh no you didn't.. Oh yes I did.

How old school was I last night, whipping up a chicken pot pie. I don't even eat chicken pot pie let alone bake them from scratch. I couldn't even tell you what prompted me to make one. Considering my lack of experience, I took the easiest route possible and followed a recipe called Easy Chicken Pot Pie.

How lazy am I? Did I just lose my foodie club membership? Is there even a club because I think someone forgot to invite me.

And I know what else you're thinking. Chicken pot pie doesn't seem like a summer dish. I mean if it isn't green and leafy and easy on the muffin top it just doesn't work, right?

But people, it seems that it is monsoon season here in England. I did not realize that my umbrella and I would become so close. I swear, it rains when I wake up, it rains when I'm eating my lunch and oh surprise, it is raining by the time I go to bed.
Help.
Send sun.
Or a new umbrella at the very least.
I mean, you know it's rainy when those umbrellas that attach to your head start seeming like a good idea.

You know what it feels like these days?
October.
No kidding.
I rode my bike the other morning with a pair of gloves on.
So perhaps now you understand how chicken pot pie fits right in to my current reality.

And I know you're looking at that picture and thinking I've got a whole chicken under there. But I promise you that is only a wee tiny ramekin peaking out from under that golden top. Perhaps I was a bit heavy handed with the puff pastry.
But G says there is no such thing as too much puff pastry.
He is quite the philosopher.

The recipe was simple and it hit the spot. I figure that for a first timer, it was a good start. One day I will make it again with a more contemporary variation, unless it's raining (which is highly likely) and I need some comfort food, then I might just stick to it old school.



*************
Easy Chicken Pot Pie at Epicurious

Because I can never follow a recipe exactly:
I substituted celery for carrots
I used onion instead of shallot
I added dried thyme because I wanted to see some herbs in the mix. (the recipe has you remove the bouquet garni)

Like two tea bags in a tea pot..

A tea bag hits me on the back of the head as I move sluggishly around the kitchen on Saturday morning.
"Oops. Sorry." he says, still half asleep himself.
"What are you doing?" I ask as he picks up the tea bag from the floor.
"Trying to get the tea bag in the tea pot."
The tea pot is on the counter, lid off, and he is standing about 6 feet away from it.
He lobs the tea bag a second time and again it misses.
I stop what I am doing, let out a big yawn, and watch him.
With each miss, we become more awake. Our exclamations become a bit more lively.
"Oooo."
"Close."
"Almost!"

And then I find myself saying: "My turn. Let me try."

And as I lob the tea bag about a foot too far to the left, I realize, we are so made for each other.

I have moved way past infatuation..

Last night I got my Moro fix again. You know how I rave about Moro, and if you don't, let me tell you, I love it.
LOVE. IT.

Raving about a restaurant can sometimes be a dangerous thing. I mean, if you bring a friend there what if they hate it? So when Clotilde and I decided to go there for dinner last night, she admitted to me that with all my raving her expectations were pretty high. And we all know that that can, more often than not, result in disappointment.

Oh dear.
I scratched my head in contemplation.
I hadn't even considered that.
I mean, it's Moro.

But suddenly I realized that it was entirely possible that I was blinded by love and maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be her cup of tea at all.

But people, let me just say it. The minute they put that freshly baked bread in front of you and you tear off a doughy chunk of it and dip in that fresh peppery olive oil you will fall hopelessly in love too.

And she did. Just like I knew she would.

I mean really, you could stop there and be happy. But then came the appetizers.

She's French, she wanted to try the sweetbreads with artichokes, preserved lemon and cardamom. I am Canadian, and scared of meats that are vaguely named, as though there is something to hide. But oh my goodness. Sweetbreads? Maybe I don't want to know what you really are made of, but you sure do taste good.

We moved onto charcoal grilled onions and broad beans with salbixada. Neither of us knew what salbixada was, but what the heck. We threw caution to the wind because we are wild and crazy. Turns out it's a spanish chile paste, and it was heavy with the smokey scent of pimenton de la vera. That spanish paprika that I seem to put in everything these days. (Man I love that stuff)

Our mains did not disappoint--mine: a wood roasted chicken with garlic and saffron vinegar and slow cooked green beans. Hers: the fish fattee--a charcoal grilled bream with spring vegetable pilav, dill yogurt, sorrel and pine nuts.

And then came the ultimate question: "Should we share one dessert?"
To which I replied: "No. We should share two."

And so we did.

The spanish cheese plate with membrillo came out and we washed it down with Moro's yogurt cake with pistachios and pomegranate seeds.

My heart beats a little bit faster just thinking about it.

Love will do that to a girl.


-------
You can find all the pics at Clotilde's Moblog!


Moro Website

Two weeks! That's crazy talk.

I know, I've been a terrible blogger lately. I think it must be a serious case of writer's block. (Blogger's block?)

Is there a cure for that? Should I just drink more wine? Get a massage? Or maybe I should just buy some stuff. See, I feel inspired already just by the thought of it.

Either way, it has left my little Oswego Tea all quiet and lonely these past couple of weeks. But here are some bits and bites of the last 15 days of my life:

1. A friend of ours from Canada came to visit us. He said "eh" and it made me happy. We drank beer and played darts at the local pub. We all laid down on the grass in Hyde Park. I got to pet a horse's nose. Then we had a barbecue.

2. For the aforementioned barbecue I made my own homemade bbq sauce from an Ina Garten recipe.

3. It tasted really good.

4. We finally went to the Tate Modern. There was a can of beans with a wiener in it. It was art apparently, but it made my stomach growl so we left and went out for lunch.

5. I met up with Alessandra at Spitalfield's market--my first time meeting a fellow blogger since I moved to Britain. Let me tell you that she is some kinda nice. I liked her. Yep.

6. My neighbours had a party with an Elvis impersonator. I brought chana masala and G worried it was too spicy. Then he remembered we are in Britain and the Brits, well, they like it spicy. They ate it all up so I think I did alright.

7. I wiped out on my bicycle and my knee turned various shades of purple and yellow. My bike, on the other hand, had not a scratch on it.

8. I called a British guy 'dude' and he thought I was a surfer from California.


And that just about wraps it up.
I promise now that we're all caught up, I won't stay away so long next time. Okay?

Did I ever tell you about that yogurt?

When I talk about things that I love about London I wonder if I wouldn't be more unique if everything I loved was some kind of best kept secret. But the fact of the matter is, I like the Fortnum & Mason food hall.

There I said it.

I just can't seem to pass it by without stopping in. I'm not so interested in the jams and teas on the ground floor, it's the good stuff in the lower level that always lures me in.

As luck would have it recently, just when my feet started to complain from all the walking and my stomach started to alert me to the dinner hour, I was in the neighbourhood.

I picked up a couple of ripe yellow tomatoes, some hand-picked local arugula, some French goat's cheese (a crottin de something or other, I forget now), some organic Salchichon* from Spain and for dessert, a blood orange and a pot of honey yogurt.
To some, this dinner is maybe kind of meh. To me though: oy.
Happy happy.
And let me tell you about that yogurt.
Perfectly creamy and smooth, with the purest honey flavour--not overly sweet. Just right.
AND, River Cottage, treats its cows well.
I put my hands on my hips, cock my head to the side and ask you this:
"It makes the yogurt taste that much better, doesn't it?"
I think SO!
AND in case you recognize the River Cottage name, yes this is Hugh-Fearnley Whittingstall's yogurt, so to speak.

Nice work Hugh.
Nice work.


Fine yogurt. I could have licked the jar clean.
But if I had, I probably wouldn't admit it.


-----------------

*Salchichon: like chorizo but with pepper instead of paprika

-----------------
River Cottage Website

Fortnum & Mason Food Hall
181 Piccadilly, London
tube: Piccadilly Circus or Green Park

If you do want to know a secret: don't overlook the wine bar in the food hall at Fortnum & Mason just because you're not in the mood for wine. (Does that even happen?) You can rest your feet a bit over a pot of fresh mint tea (made from leaves) and a couple of champagne truffles.

Photos on a Saturday..

You now know how I feel about Moro, and now I am providing further evidence of my infatuation. The puffy, doughy pillows pictured above are from Moro's basic flatbread recipe found in their second cookbook.

And if I may be permitted to show off a little bit, what you see below is organic lettuce grown by yours truly in my very own wee vegetable patch. I mean, come on, the rain is still clinging to the leaves. Does it get any better than that?

So... who's coming over for lunch?

Moro. I love it. And that's that.

The first time I ever went to Moro was just shortly after we moved here. G and I dressed ourselves up and because it was too early for dinner, we opted to sit at the bar and test out some of their tapas.

We spent a few hours over small dishes of syrian lentils, chorizo, olives, empanadillas, patatas bravas and fresh sardines. While my eyes and tastebuds danced with glee, G immersed himself in the wine list and we tried wines by the glass from more countries than I care to admit.

For days afterwards I couldn't stop talking about it to anyone who would listen. I even bought Moro's 2nd cookbook and like a woman possessed I made 6 of their recipes in what seemed like a single weekend. They were all fabulous.


Needless to say, I have been back to Moro several times since then, and I still love it. I love the way it looks, I love the way it feels and, most importantly of all, I love the food. Their rosewater and cardamom ice cream is the stuff of my dreams.

Sometimes, I will admit, you have to break the ice a little bit with some of the staff, but show your enthusiasm about any of the dishes or the wine and that seems to do the trick. Either way, I'm just so happy when I go there, that even if the staff ignored me completely, I'd still sit there with the biggest smile on my face.

It's also worthwhile to check out the shop next door to them, called Brindisa, which carries many of the spanish ingredients that Moro uses in their dishes. Brindisa can also be found at the Borough market.

MORO
34 - 36 Exmouth Market
London EC1R 4QE
Farrington Tube
Tapas are available 12:30pm to 10:30pm Mon to Sat.
Dinner from 7pm to 10:30pm Mon to Sat.

BRINDISA
32 Exmouth Market
London EC1R 4QE
Farringdon Tube

Don't wait up!

I'm off to Paris today for 5 days of fine food, aimless wandering and catching up with friends.
See you when I get back!

..Well, I won't actually see you, but you know what I mean..

Cocoa muffins, an upcoming trip, and a vegan lunch

Cocoa muffins.

Where does the time go? It's been almost a week since I gloated about my recipe making accomplishments. I guess a girl can only gloat for so long before it starts to get a little excessive. And anyway, that braised chicken picture was starting to bore me. But I will say that I made my version of that recipe again last week, but I stewed some meatballs in the sauce, and man, that was some good stuff.

In the meantime I did make some really disappointing cocoa muffins last weekend. They had such potential--just look how they are bursting through at the tops. The taste, however, was about as boring as.. hmm... I'm trying to think of something really boring.. Let's just say it was as boring as boring is when you are really, really bored. A complete waste of 2/3rds of a cup of Valrhona cocoa powder. Adding insult to injury I had even used my madeleine pan for some of the batter which made the cutest little chocolatey madeleines. They did look cute in my garbage, but it was still quite heartbreaking.

In other exciting news, exactly one week from today this girl is going to be on a train to Paris.
I haven't decided which suitcase I'm going to bring yet because in Paris it's such a pain in the ass pushing your suitcase through the metro turnstiles. I know, you can get the attendant to open the gates at the side but sometimes it takes far too long to get their attention.
Ahh Paris.
How I missed you.
It's no coincidence that my trip coincides with the Salon des Saveurs, that mecca for gourmet food lovers that occurs twice a year in Paris. I never missed one while I lived there and I certainly don't intend to miss it now. My friend Alisa and I are experts at weaving our way around the French madames with their grocery trolleys and their "if it doesn't get out of the way, just run it over" attitudes. When the finest of French food products are at stake, all sense of order gets thrown out the window.

And people, you know I'm going to Mariage Frères. I stocked up before I moved, so it's not as if I'm running low, but I need my aromatherapy and there are always flavours that I have yet to try. I might even give that jaunty little tea boy that works in the shop in the 3rd a big old hug, just because I missed him and his cute little white outfit.

Alright, enough with the rambling. I should talk about something useful, like that nice little lunch I had recently at a place called Vitaorganic in Soho. It's vegan and organic and they seem to have this thing for raw and "gently cooked" foods to preserve the living enzymes.

For 4£ you can select 3 items from the many prepared dishes on display (behind glass of course).
I settled on a mixed plate with carrot and parsnip salad, a lentil salad and some lightly steamed broccoli. This maybe doesn't sound like the kind of lunch that gets your mouth watering, but it's right up my alley. And I'm neither vegan nor even vegetarian for that matter. But it's healthy and fresh and no matter what you pick you are doing your body good.

They also make fresh juices and smoothies to cure whatever ails you, such as the BlueBooster, which will apparently soothe and strengthen your throat.
You can either sit in and enjoy the general healthiness in the air or take your meal away. Oh, and you can get more or less than 3 items if you want, the price will vary accordingly. Makes sense, right?

Vitaorganic
74 Wardour St.
corner of Wardour and Meard Streets
Soho, London
W1F 0TE
Leicester Square Tube



Ok, I'm done rambling now..

A little braised chicken, alot of self-satisfaction..

Braised chicken in aromatic tomato sauce

I'm a bit obsessive about a certain New Year's resolution that I made to myself.
But before I get into that there's something you must know about me first.

For the last few years I have diligently recorded every single recipe that I have made on a spreadsheet, with detailed notes about any changes I made and whether or not I liked it.

I swear though, if I didn't write it down, I would forget by the next week that I had even made it. I am very forgetful.

But now, with my trusty spreadsheet at hand, just ask me what I made for Christmas dinner in 2004 and I will whip out my computer and with a few clicks you will have your answer. And I'll be smiling and feeling all high and mighty and pleased with myself and stuff.

I know this rates really high on the dorkiness meter, but I feel ok about it. I am fully at peace with the dorkiness that pervades my life.

So let's get back to this New Year's resolution.
On January 1st, 2007, I, like many other food loving people, resolved to cook more new recipes.
Big deal, right?

Well I'm only telling you this now because I kind of wanted to brag a little.

It turns out that since January I have averaged 4 new recipes a week.
That's 16 recipes a month.
That's..pauses to mentally calculate that..192 recipes a year! (ok, I used a calculator)
Give this dork a gold star already.
No, not for the math, for the cooking.
Geez.

********************
So, according to my spreadsheet, (mouse clicks heard in background) recipe #12 for the month of April 2007 is:

Braised Chicken in Aromatic Tomato Sauce (click for the recipe)
from Bon Appetit at Epicurious.com

I really enjoyed this and will make it again. The aromatics in the sauce are a combination of allspice, cinnamon, paprika, cloves and nutmeg. I am a big fan of allspice as it is, so that is what drew me to this recipe. The leftovers the following day were even better.

I know, it's easier if someone just sticks to a recipe and tells you if it was good or not. But that would just be too easy. I basically used the recipe for inspiration and just did what felt right.
Luckily, it all worked out for me.

My changes:
1 tsp of ground allspice, instead of whole allspice.
1 tsp of ground cinnamon, instead of a cinnamon stick.
Sweet pimenton (spanish paprika) because I think it has a richer, smokier flavour than "regular" paprika.
I added a good splash of sherry to the sauteed onions before adding the spices.
I used one 400g can of chopped tomatoes which I pureed first for a smooth sauce.
I filled that tomato can twice with water and added it to the pot.
I added 2 fresh bay leaves to the pot.
I served the dish with couscous instead of pasta.

Note: the recipe makes a good amount of sauce for pouring over pasta, rice, couscous, or whatever you want to serve it with.

Baby's got more back than she wants..

You know when you go to university or college and you celebrate your first taste of freedom by drinking ALL THE TIME for 8 months straight and then you inevitably gain weight and they call it the "freshman 15" ? Because if they give it a cutsie name it makes it ok, right?
Well couldn't someone have warned me about the British 10?
I mean really.

I'm blaming it on the beer.

In France, I rarely ordered beer when I went out because, well, I never saw a French woman do it and I caved under the social pressure. Oh and also, David said he wouldn't hang out with me if I did. The only time I did was when I was out with Cindy because together, it was nothing but good times, and that's just how we rolled.

Then I moved to Britain, where babies are weaned on beer and Yorkshire pudding is considered a light snack. (Ok, I exaggerate. But only a little.)

So, I reintegrated myself into beer drinking society, but I still couldn't seem to shake the French influence.
Nowadays, I never order a full pint, only a half. (I am just so dainty and ladylike now--thanks France!)
Listen, I'm half Canadian and half Belgian, so this is a big change. Beer runs through my veins, you know.

But it seems, even though I'm only ordering half a pint at a time, the calories still count.
Who knew?

So, the British 10 has reared its ugly head. Ok, it's more like 6, but it feels like 20 and a bag of chips.
This girl has got some work to do.
Otherwise I'm going to need some new pants.
I mean trousers.

But I'm not a hamster.. so what would you do?

Here's the thing. I love sushi.
I really LOVE sushi.
But G and I have this long standing issue about eating sushi --let's call it a competition of sorts.
I hate that it's true, but I ALWAYS lose.

Let me explain.
Let's say you order a cute little spicy tuna roll--you choose the maki version where it's cut up into 6 bite-sized pieces. You pick one up with your chopsticks, dip it in some soy sauce and pop it in your mouth. All is going smoothly and aren't you looking cute doing it.

Then you switch it up-- you turn your attention to the spider roll perhaps, the center of it filled with deep fried soft shell crab. (You love this one with all your heart).
You eyeball it.
Then you pick it up and eyeball it some more.
And you just know that sucker is not going to fit into your mouth without leaving you looking like a hamster saving up a lifetime supply of sunflower seeds. Because they do that, you know.

So I ask you: what's a girl to do?
I'll tell you what I do.
I try to bite in half. (Hangs head in frustration.)
This is not always successful and is often kind of sort of messy.

Am I the only one who finds it entirely unpleasant to be all Hammy Hamster and just pop the whole thing in my mouth? Not only do my cheeks bulge but inevitably my hand shoots up to cover my mouth to indicate that I am currently indisposed so please don't engage me in any conversation for the next 5 minutes while I try to chew this, before I choke on it and die.

By the end of our meal, you can clearly see the results of my efforts, and this is where G always wins:
his little soy sauce dish is pristine, while mine is filled with rice--evidence of my attempts to bite my sushi down to size. (Yes a second dipping is necessary, there must be soy sauce on each bite. It's the law!)

When he smiles at me because he "wins" again, I just tell him that it's only because he has a big mouth.
That's right. Uh-huh.
I still lose, but I totally get points for the comeback.

Pints, more pints, and an impatient dog..

The pup cared very little about our hangovers..

The weather here has been so great lately, but I'm told it is not typical for this time of year at all. And here I was thinking "why is everyone always slagging British weather?"
It's only mid-April and it feels like we completely skipped spring and jumped right into summer.

G and I celebrated in true British style by spending the weekend with a friend who lives in a lovely little town called Leamington Spa.
There were outdoor patios, numerous pints and a Sunday morning spent dealing with a pounding headache.
Despite the fact that the 3 of us felt rather haggard and hungover we dragged ourselves out of bed on Sunday morning and took the dog for a walk. It was as English as it could possibly be--a ramble in the fields, an abandoned manor at the top of a hill, horses grazing off to the left, gunshots heard in the distance (skeet shooting perhaps?) and a greyhound racetrack that we passed by on the way back home.

I was hoping to see some stately fellow in wellies and a handlebar mustache with some freshly killed ducks slung over his shoulder. Only because that is what I imagine you would see if you looked up "English" in the dictionary.
After the walk, we were even treated to a homemade proper english breakfast.

English life I tell you, it may be bad for the liver, but it sure is good for the soul.

You had me at roasted artichoke..

A souvenir of my lunch at Gail's, because I didn't get a pic of
the sandwich that this post is really about. A girl has to make do.

I know, it seems as though all I ever talk about is some place or other in Notting Hill. But geez, it's so damn charming, can you blame me?
I fully intended to go back to Book for Cooks for lunch the other day, but as we made our way there, my friend and I noticed this cute little bakery/lunch spot and couldn't help but peek our heads in. I tell you, once you pop your noggin' in there, there's no resisting.

Gail's is not new to London but it is relatively new to Portobello Road. Take one look at their range of artisanal breads, pastries and sandwiches and I dare you to try to walk out of there empty handed.

Let it be said that I do not take sandwiches lightly. I am a very complicated, sandwich-loving woman.
In fact, I will only buy a sandwich if it meets very exacting standards. This happens maybe once or twice a year, except for that dry spell of 2004. Because nothing upsets me more than a poorly executed sandwich.

So there I was. In Gail's. Man, it sure smelled bready and good in there. There were sandwiches that seemed to be tailored made for a picky girl like me:
Charcoal ham and guacamole
Gorgonzola and pear
Greek feta and courgette
I wiped the dribble off of my chin and I swear the skies parted and a heavenly (or maybe just fluorescent) beam of light shone down on this one:
Bresaola, Roasted Artichoke, and Rocket Sandwich.

As if that weren't enough, we washed it down with a glass of freshly squeezed blood orange juice and finished it all off with a yogurt and granola cup.
Let's pause to appreciate the fabulousness of this lunch.
It was such a healthy meal I was forced to restore balance in my universe by indulging in that red velvet cupcake later that afternoon.

I left Gail's with not just a full belly-- but also a fresh baguette and a plump sausage roll to bring home for G.

I'd never been to Gail's before, but I'm happy to be able to find them on Portobello Road. Since I never seem to go anywhere else.

Gail's
138 Portobello Road
London, W11 2DZ

64 Hampstead High Street
London, NW3 1QH

________
Note: you can sit down and enjoy your lunch in their cute little space or take any of this home with you. Their website has a menu of their offerings.

Red Velvet Cupcakes at Hummingbird Bakery

The cupcake did not survive..

So it seems the red velvet cake is making a bit of a comeback. I am fully supportive of comebacks, even if I think the Spice Girls should leave well enough alone.
But whatever.

The Hummingbird Bakery on Portobello Road in London has me giggling like a schoolgirl. What with the icing and the sprinkles and the sugar, well, let's just say "hee hee hee hee hee."

According to the wee sign posted by the mammoth red velvet cake that was sitting on display, it is one of their most popular items. Well I certainly wasn't about to order some lame vanilla cupcake and risk having someone whispering behind me "that is so summer 2006", so I jumped right on that red velvet bandwagon and joined the ranks of the cupcake fashionista. Thankfully, you can order by the slice, or opt for the very portable cupcake version. For an extra 10p they'll even put it in a chinese takeaway style box for you.
The hipness just doesn't end. It was 10p well spent because I'm a sucker for any packaging that ups the cute factor.

I'll get right down to it. I liked my little cupcake. It was pretty and moist and yummy and even though I'd never had any dessert of the red velvet variety before, I felt nostalgic with the first bite. I just wanted to don a frilly apron and get my Betty Crocker on.
I didn't though.
But I totally wanted to.

Hummingbird Bakery
133 Portobello Road
Notting Hill
London W11 2DY
020 7229 6446

Romancing an onion..

Am I the last person in the world to have found out that a little ambiance will save me from the agony of onion tears?
In case there is still one of you left, here is the magical trick that has eluded me all my life:
Keep a candle lit near you while you chop an onion.
No. more. tears.

Mom? Dad? I was 24 years old when I finally learned the whole righty-tighty, lefty-loose thing.
But I'm not sure I can forgive you for this one.

Wouldn't YOU want a spaghetti tree?

Noodle sprouts? I do have my fun...

April Fool's day doesn't really mean much to me. I can't even remember the last time someone has pulled a prank on me. Although there was that one time that I fumbled around a dark bedroom only to find that G had moved the bed into the other corner of the room.
But this was in July people.
So, really, what do I care about April Fool's Day? The only thing I like about it is that it marks the end of March. March is fine, don't get me wrong, but April is better. And that's all I've got to say about that.

But then I read this story about a prank the BBC pulled back in 1957, in which listeners were led to believe that spaghetti grew on trees, and a record harvest had been reported that year because of a mild winter.
Spaghetti! From a tree!
Some people actually believed it to be true, and called in to the BBC wanting to know how to grow their own.
These are the people that make me go "aww" and wish that I could be their friend, because they are so cute and gullible but they still obviously love food enough to want to care for and nurture their own spaghetti tree.
Maybe, just maybe, they hoped that they would have such a green thumb that they would manage to make that spaghetti tree grow other pasta shapes like rotinis (cute and curly!) or farfalle (everybody loves bow ties!).
I'm picking happy shapes because I'm imagining these are the type of people who smile all the time thinking about how great life is and how much greater it would be with a spaghetti tree in their backyard.
I tell you, if it WERE possible, I would want one too.

So happy April 1st people. Happy April 1st.

I get bored easily and I take it out on Oswego Tea...

I seem to be a bit restless lately. I change my banner like I change my socks.
I hope you don't mind.
Indecisiveness is charming, no?

Books for Cooks and also.. why no pictures?

First things first:

My camera is broken! I'm still tweaking my letter to Oprah. It goes something like this:

"Dear Oprah. I need a new camera. A really nice one with some fancy lenses. I promise to be a better person if you send me one."

Now let's move on to the Books for Cooks part.
If I were 15, I might explain my experience at Books for Cooks like this:
OMG! WTF! LOL!

But 15 I am not, and Books for Cooks demands a bit more explanation.

But it must first be mentioned that after I've finished writing my letter to Oprah, I will be penning a plea to Books for Cooks to let me work in their test kitchen.

Books for Cooks is a pretty small store, but it is absolutely loaded with books all about food and cooking. As if that wasn't good enough.

No kidding, it actually gets better.
Tucked away in the back, is a small open kitchen and a mere 5 tables served at any one time.
Every day a few recipes are selected from among the cookbooks in the store, and lo and behold this is what is on the menu for lunch that day. Hello dream job? I never knew you could be that dreamy.

But as a customer, and not a staff member, here is the exciting part:
Three courses cost a mere 7£.
Or you can select two items for 5£.
Insert coughing fit here. Because now I realize that perhaps my shampoo is a bit too expensive.

Here is the lovely lunch that I got to enjoy the other day for a MERE 7£.

First course: The best mint pea soup I have ever had with a generous slice of a caramelized onion and goat cheese bread--still hot from the oven.

(If I had been a good girl, I would have stopped here, because my belly was perfectly satisfied by this point. But I figured I could be a good girl some other time. I mean, 7£ people. You just know there was no stopping here. You just know, right? )

Main course: Meatloaf with balsamic sweet potato mash and tamarind chutney. Yum and yum and yum.

And. AND. A choice of one of 4 desserts: Rhubarb crumble, flourless chocolate cake, plum cake, and a lemon blueberry polenta cake. I chose the plum cake but my stomach was on strike by that point so I took it home and generously gifted it to G.

I had a stupid grin on my face during that whole lunch.
And for hours afterwards, I'm sure anyone who passed me could hear me mumbling: "omg. wtf?"
Because really, it made me that happy.

I've got to work on that letter. Forget Oprah, my dream job is at stake here.

Get thee to Books for Cooks
4 Blenheim Crescent
Notting Hill
London W11 1NN
Tel 020-7221-1992
Fax 020-7221-1517

How to make me laugh without trying

I didn't intend to be so yappy these last few days, but here we are again.

Two things must be said to preface this brief story:
1. G sometimes talks nonsense when he's bordering that fine line between being asleep and awake.
2. In our household the term "snuggling hard" refers to any snuggle action that disturbs the sleep of the one being snuggled.

So..

Last night G went to bed earlier than I. When I finally called it a night, I crawled into bed with a bit too much gusto. My toes were cold and so I wormed my way as close to him as possible, disturbing him from his slumber.

These are the words he spoke:
"Don't snuggle too hard or you'll get stuck like that and I'll have to feed you peas."

And then off he drifted back to sleep.

Good to know though that if I ever find myself stuck somewhere, like in a well or something, that G would be right there saving the day by feeding me peas.

From Paris to London

I won't wax poetic about Paris. Paris and I, well we had our thing. We had our ups and we had a few downs, but it was the love of my life. I mean, I dreamed of Paris ever since I was a little girl in ballet shoes. So when I boarded that plane from Paris to London in December, I was more than a little heartbroken. It felt like I'd been dreaming the last 16 months and someone pinched me and I actually woke up.
Oh Paris. How I mourned you.
Cut to March 2007.
If Paris was the love of my life, London is my roll in the hay, that part-time lover that keeps your heart racing and has you wearing your best skivvies all the time just in case he shows up unannounced.
London, you saucy thing, who knew you'd thrill me so?

***

G and I found ourselves at a pub last night. Sometimes you end up at one filled with suits, other times you're sharing a pint with a slightly rougher crowd. Last night, there seemed to be an endless lineup at the cigarette machine, and the bartender, with her generous proportions, wore a too tight t-shirt with the word BOUNCY across the front. Bouncy, indeed. We watched a guy spinning his cell phone round and round on the table in front of him, and got into a discussion about whether a cell phone's spinability should be a consideration when purchasing one.
G says most definitely, I on the other hand, remain unconvinced.

***

And so it goes..

Don't mind me..

Oh I know. I said my goodbyes already. But it's been almost 4 months and a girl needs a hobby, right? And I really suck at knitting. So don't mind me while I poke around in here and see if Oswego Tea and I can't have a little fun again.