A Façade Of Niceness

IF YOU'RE GOING TO EAT PORK...

2012-01-17T22:20:00.000Z

25 Catherine Street

London WC2B 5JS

tel: +44 (0) 7240 2078

A Jewish(ish), or Jew-ish (but hasn't that already been coined) if you like, deli. Or, as they themselves describe it, a "kind of jewish deli with cocktails".

Expensive for a deli but, thankfully, I wasn't the one dipping my hands into my pocket. Clever moi.

I've heard mixed reviews and didn't really know what to expect but was excited as it's brother Spuntino was easily my favourite place of 2011; not that I visited an awful lot of places last year - really need to pull my finger out don't I?

It's much the same: clean lines, tiled walls, bar to walk in, sit and have a quick munch around, with an old Barber shop type feel to the frontage and diner-styled booths.

A boisterous bunch, we commandeered a booth which they'd warned us in advance may be a squeeze but actually it was fine (even with 7 and a few bits and bobs of luggage), and immediately ordered the recommended Diamond Fizz: it didn't disappoint. I particularly liked it coming in a tin mug, yum. Then, dangerously, we decided to try every cocktail on the menu - shared of course - but, UNsurprisingly, I can't really remember them. The green one and the lemon one. They had gin in. They were good. I think. I'm sure.

If you're really that fussed you can do what we did and ask the lovely, gorgeous, bright young things serving you. Same as Spuntino, the boys are hot and the girls are hotter; and lovely and helpful to boot!

Menu is as with everywhere hot and new, of course, typed (not a font geek, but I would chance Courier) with most of the usual jewish shizzle you'd expect. Definitely not kosher. Reminding me of a receipe I've seen recently for pork chops using kosher salt.

I've had my fill of salt beef and pastrama so I dithered between the New Yoik style "Big Apple" hot dawg and the duck hash - it was a hard choice but we only had 2 hours to order, eat and go, so was chivvied into ordering the former. No word of a lie, It was the BIGGEST sausage I've ever seen (fnar, fnar). Of course, I managed to hoof it down. DUH. Like Man Vs Food it's simply a challenge rather not an obstacle (although, have you SEEN what they eat on that programme, I mean really? It's obscene. There are people starving out there and they're chomping away on a whole pig carcass and a field of corn).

My compatriots very kindly let me snaffle bits and bobs of their Reubens and Beef Patty and yummy they were. In a kind of "I've had all this cocktails and I'm going to peak if I don't get down some serious meat and carbs" type way. The sides were alright - wedges that I probably do better at home, onions rings ditto (bit hard) and (best of an okay bunch) cod cheek popcorn (COLLEAGUE: what's cod cheek? ME: err, cheek of the um cod?)

Arm-twisted into ordering puds I managed a spoonful of the lovely messy hot banana thing (a definite must when you go) and two other things a week later I can't recall. They were alright.

I know, I know, the whole review is sounding a bit average, a bit meh. You probably could get food cheaper, better somewhere else. But that somewhere else wouldn't be Mishkin's. And Mishkin's was stonkingly good fun and the food was pretty (if not stonkingly) good to eat and the cocktails were stonkingly strong and certainly did the job. I also know that I haven't actually told you a lot about the menu but I feel I've summarised well - AND (most of) you (me excepted) go to the cinema without wikipedia-ing the whole storyline. SO get someone else to dig deep and pay a visit. Soon. And when I say soon, I mean, like, NOW.

Now, here's the bit where I follow up with our hotfooting it to The Lucky Pig but, frankly, all I can remember is something like the montage in Moulin Rouge, with trays upon trays of Manhattans and the like swooping down; lots of cheers'ing; very serious and important discussions which are far too serious and important to recount here (translate as: far too piddled to remember, although I do recall it may have involved me strongarming a colleague off for a cigarette and furiously chuffing away [I don't smoke] whilst being very insistent about something or other), and playing the question game (what nightmare's are made of and one for another time). Which is pretty much par for the course on a work night out. Drink responsibly? My wotsit*

And that's pretty much all you can ask of a great night out isn't it? Loads of great cocktails, fun and frivolous company and a sore head the next day (or two)

Oh and apologies for the lack of photos, I still don't have an iphone and tbh was having far too much fun to actually take any.

There can be no joy without food and drink

And so from a jewish proverb to a jewish legend, I leave you with...

*would've said arse but they might be reading and get offended

NO SUCH THING AS A FREE LUNCH

2011-11-28T20:55:00.002Z

What do you call a deer with no eyes?

NO IDEA.

Boom tish.

Anyone would think I've no ideas, no inspiration. No blog posts. I know, I know.

I know it's been a while and I should be sorry but I'm not actually.

The reason I started this blog was because I had far to much time on my hands - time that I absolutely was not being productive (nor positive - hence the rants) with. Now I have NO time on my hands. None. Whatsoever. It's completely filled up to the brim with doing. What happened? Well, (brace yourselves) I got a JOB. Hell yes... and *best M&S voiceover voice* not just any job... a LOVELY job. Who'd a thunk, eh?

So while I've been getting to grips playing nice with the new kids and actually engaging my brain in something other than what's going on with Bargain Hunt the blog has kind of taken a back seat.

My job isn't only love for recognising me as the best, most amazing person for it (natch) but we have FREE lunches, yes, FREE, a 3-course lunch. FREE. Magic. Not so magic for my bum and tum though. Will the real Slim Foodie pelase stand up. oh. Zumba ain't going to fix this, I can tell you.

A typical lunch, for example, is:

Starter

Spicy parsnip soup with croutons and a dash of chilli oil

Main

Chicken and Leek pie with mash and gravy
or
Beef meatballs with a thai green curry sauce

or
Peri Peri chicken with wedges and veg's

Pudding

Crumble and custard (c'mon, who could resist a bit of crumble??)

Even more magic is that chef knocks this up for £1.80 per day - with a tidy little salad buffet as well (do I make friends with salad? do I ....)

EVERY DAY I promise myself I will show restraint, and every day I crumple I stagger under the weight of my tray of food. Then, EVERY single sodding DAY I promise myself I won't have supper as well and every day I do.

If it isn't the general busy-ness stopping me blogging, then it's the fact slump into a soporific stupor on the sofa every evening.

Give it a couple of months and you'll be needing to send the cranes in....

Anyway, enough of me and my pampered freebie ligging lifestyle...here's a little tasty treat of your own to rustle up...enjoy!

Salmon en Croute

150g mascarpone or cream cheese
1 bag watercress , spinach and rocket
1 lemon
Pack of jus-rol puff pastry
2 large (wild) salmon fillets
1 egg, beaten

1. Preheat the oven to 180C
2. Put the mascarpone, watercress, spinach & rocket in a food processor with a squeeze of lemon and seaon tyhen whizz up into a paste.
3. Roll out the puff pastry, plonk a fillet of salmon in the middle
4. Top with the paste, wrap up, glaze with the egg (do same with other one)
5. Pop in oven for about 30 minutes

I served with peas with leftover paste mixed in and it was LOVELY! Wolfed in about 2 seconds flat actually.

Always a pleasure, never a chore!

I leave you with a bit of Office cheer

SNACK ATTACK

2011-08-15T13:39:00.001+01:00

For a Jew, I have an unhealthy proclivity for pork.

Bordering on a deathwish towards pigs. Poor the piggy!

But I can't deny, I do like a bit of sausage *fnar, fnar*

Inspired by my Brighton picnic snacks I decided I'd up the ante and try my hand at something tricksier (don't even think about taunting me on my spelling, I'm fully aware that it's a made up word and you should be used to a hefty sprinkling of these in my posts by now).

It went pretty well actually... you tell me what you think

Pork Pie

(a kind of bastardised version of Nigel, Delia & various other googled recipes)

Filling

500kg pork shoulder

60g pork fat

60g streaky bacon / lardons

Sage

Thyme

Nutmeg / ground allspice / mace

300ml good chicken stock (I used my leftover stock from juices of brick roasted chicken bulked up with stock from Waitrose)

Gelatine (small packet)

Hot water crust pastry

450g flour

150g lard

200ml water

Egg, beaten (for glazing)

1. Seive flour, mix in pinch of salt. Boil up lard adn water and add to flour

2. MIx with a wooden spoon then knead into a soft dough. Mine was quite crumbly, don't worry, it all stays together

3. Mould over something like the bottom of a kilner jar, wrap with baking paper and tie with string, make a lid then pop both in fridge.

4. The pork needs to be diced into small piece - I got my butcher to do that, mix with lardons and half your chopped herbs, mace, nutmeg etc.

5. Gently remove your mould from the pastry case and fill to top with your pork mixture

6. Brush the edges with egg and plonk on your lid, glaze with rest of egg.

7. Make a hole in the top and pop in oven at around 190C for about and hour and a half

8. Take out of oven, once completely cool pour in your stock with the rest of the herbs (if you want) and allow to set overnight in fridge.

Short but sweet, sometimes quickies are the best *nudge, nudge, wink, wink*

I leave you with Porky Pig

HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF

2011-07-17T10:53:00.006+01:00

Picking up from my last tardy post in this equally not-so-punctual offering, I can confirm that I am actually growing a food baby of gargantuan proportions.

I could blame the free lunches, but it's actually my greed. In my defence, who but the most cold of heart and haterer* of all things joyful in life could resist the lure of chicken burritos and pear crumble with lashings of custard?! Exactly. So, every lunch I face the same quandary: lettuce and tomato with a dot of low fat cottage cheese or a big juicy pork chop with cispy roasty tatties?! And every time I opt for the taters and whinge about my weight gain. Even four hours of Zumba Wii has done little to stem the expansion of my waist. Although on the plus side I do suddenly have boobs for quite possibly the first time in my life. (let's leave the 'ironing-board'/'fried egg'/ bant5er bin the playground where it belongs, yeah?!

Anyway, I digress.

So, last week I was super happy when invited on a stroll round Soho as it meant no lunch dilemmas. Phew.

Erm, well.. that was before we headed to Bubbleology.

Somewhere I'd heard and read lots about (yeah, yeah, I know I'm probably the last blog in the world to have tried it!) . it was strangely quiet for a midweek lunch in Soho, and sadly a few people popped there heads round the door then popped them straight back out probably daunted by the strange science lab equipment and lack of direction in what exactly the drinks were and how to choose. Shame really because if they'd just been a tad more adventurous they could've had a gorgeously creamy coconut 'milkshake' with delicious popping 'caviar' of lychee, or a fresh and zingy ginger tea with strawberry popping balls. The tea is absolutely delicious. Not so sure about the black balls of tapioca mind you. They gave good texture but stayed with me the rest of the afternoon. Be warned: get a regular, the teas are tasty - but rich! Greed is not your friend in this case.

And so, aperatif drunk and Spuntino (sadly) fit to bursting and no room at the inn, we hopped skipped and jumped around the corner to Bocca di Lupo. And, even though I LOVE Spuntino and was looking forward to being reunited with the yummy sliders and shoestrings fries it was great to try the unknown.

We arrived just at the right time. With an orderly queue forming snakelike behind us, I was told that - like Spuntino - with its no booking policy Bocca di Lupo is vitually impossibly to get into in the evening. At lunchtime though we were sad immediately by the bar. This is the perfect spot to people watch and when you're done watching the people watch the chefs work their magic. I gaped and drooled at a steak the size of my head being sizzled on the hot plate. Almost certainly a restaurant for the committed carnivore, confirmed with a glance at the menu "Grilled langoustines (live until they hit the grill)".

Bocca di Lupo promises stripped-down honest, regional Italian food; claiming that despite its glamorous surroundings it is but a humble trattoria at heart. The menu certainly bears this out, with with the provenance of each dish proudly prominent on the menu.

I would've loved to have grazed all afternoon but unfortunately there was work to do and so after much umming and ahhing I went for the Bucatini al coniglio all'Ischitana (Rabbit braised with chilli & tamato; bucatini in the sauce thereof).

It was absolutely delicious, rabbit a tad bland made more excuiting with hot chillis adn the most tomato-y tomatoes I've tasted in a while. I had a bit of a dig into lunch companions squid ink risotto - lovely and the confit pork which was a bit salty for my liking (and I like my salt!)

Apparently there are queues round the block from 6pm and I'm not surprised. But I'll definitely be trying my luck very soon to prop up the bar and this time have a large glass of wine and try that delectable hunk of meat...the sirloin, not the hottie Italian waiter... (one-track mind)

Anyway, fit to burst with yummy food I leave you with five hunks and a wolf...

THE GREAT ESCAPE

2011-07-10T11:26:00.000+01:00

So we 'escaped' London by heading to London(-on-Sea). Oh.

I'm only joshin, in part. Yes, Brighton truly is London-On-Sea but it was an escape, of sorts: same friendly London town faces, clutching beers and watching bands but with a sea breeze and beach vibes.

It's such a hard life, eh.

I was pretty chuffed to get my golden ticket. Offered in return for the promise of cheese straws for the production crew, having 'catered' for them last year as I didn't want the Russian to waste away working last year.

I had to up the ante this year though, with the Russian tweeting pics of cakes from Glaster’s production office, so decided on a teddy bear's picnic of: Scotch Eggs, Cheese Straws and Lavendar & Rose Biscuits (that should calm any alcohol and sleep deprived stress)

I know, I know, not the healthiest of food! But, believe me, drinking from lunch till dawn you need something fatty & carby to line your tummy. A tip I could’ve taken myself. Jaegerbombs and whiskey shots leading to unspeakable behaviour not appropriate for these pages. Which meant the the morning after the night before...umm...well, actually, merely a couple of hours later from the night AND morning before...I found myself in oversized dark glasses almost in horrified tears at not being able to even start on my long-awaited lunch at Terre a Terre (thank you so much for the doggy bag!)

It's a good thing that all the bands I wanted to see on the Friday were all in one place and that the one place had free tea and a comfy leather sofa to collapse on. Which I did. The whole day. Thank heavens for Beyond Retro.

Beyond tired, I headed back to London (not on sea) for an escape into sleep!

Scotch Eggs

Sausagemeat (either ready-made or do what I did and squidge out some Gloucestershire Old Spot sausies!)
Quail’s eggs
Tarragon, leaves finely chopped
Breadcrumbs (I actually used medium matzo meal – where kosher meets truly un-kosher)
2 eggs
Slosh of milk
Flour

1. Combine the sausagemeat, tarragon and 1 egg yolk, season
2. Boil the quails eggs - the packet said one minute but that was too gloopy and you need them fairly firm so about 3 will do (or buy pre boil and shelled)
3. Wrap a splodge of sausagemeat round the egg, dip in flour then egg/milk mixture and finally the breadcrumbs/matzo meal
4. Deep fry until brown and crispy.
5. EAT (wait until they've cooled a bit first though)

Cheese Straws

100g Self raising flour
Pinch mustard powder
50g butter
75g cheese (mature hard cheese like cheddar or red leicester)
Egg, beaten

1. Heat oven to 180C
2. Mix flour, mustard and a pinch of salt together then rub in the butter
3. Stir in the cheese and egg to make a stiff dough
4. Roll out thinly and cut into strips (or rings) and sprinkle with a bit more salt (and some more chese andcarraway seeds if you want)
5. Put onto greaseproof paper on a baking sheet and leave in oven for about 10-15 minutes.
6. SCOFF

I leave you with a breath of fresh Brighton sea air and Tribes...

my favourite band of the weekend (and of now)

TEA LEAF

2011-06-24T11:21:00.000+01:00

cockney rhyming slang for...

YUP so some thieving blighter half-inched my iphone on my birthday. ON MY BIRTHDAY. Yup. And not even the lure of half a ton could bring my beloved phone back to me.

Still... I thought ... could be worswe, I'd backed up and still have my photos etc...

OH... fate you are a cruel mistress (bitch) ... 3 days later a virus hits my already frail laptop and BOOM no more photos, no more music, no more, well, ANYTHING.

Bereft is a good word for it.

So excuse the absence of posts - I've been going through the five stages:

Denial - frantically rooting around in my handbag, over and over and over and over and over and over again...

Anger - what a f***ng pr***ing c***ing c**t of a man (because let's be honest, it was wasn't it) would do that????? eh???? and you c**tish hackers, well.... *growl*

Bargaining - praying to all gods under the sun that the person who nicked it sees sense and the software I downloaded will retrive my photos at least

Depression - I'd just got my iphone suffle where I wanted it after YEARS of trial and error and downloading, all my photos gone... boooo hoooooo... I think I'll just do a Haversham and head to bed

Acceptance - we're finally here.

Helped somewhat by finally, yes, finally, getting a job (albeit a temporary one!!!). For a booze company, where you are required to booze (responsibly natch!). HURRAH.

Now the only 'downside' to this is a) busy-ness and b) we get free lunches. Yup, a 3 course lunch. So I'm afraid cooking has taken a bit of a back seat. And I'm gettng a rather larger back seat than I've ever had befroe Heading towards obesity.

However, I'm back in the game, albeit with a bigger booty, and am ready to cook up a storm. What a shame that this will mean a revisit to Spuntino as I lost my blog for it.... ahhhhhhh....

In memory of my beloved iPhone I leave you with Armstrong & Miller.

POPCORN & PLONK

2011-05-21T14:43:00.000+01:00

Apologies for the tardiness of blogs of late, been alternately busy and blue.

Busy as a bee looking for a job. Who would've though I'd miss that back to work Monday feeling, but strangely I do. Although I've enjoyed the sunshine and the freedom, this out of work lark is actually getting slightly tedious (any gazillionaire entrepreneurs reading this then please feel free to give me a job; alternatively perhaps consider the currently open position as my sugar daddy - purely platonic you understand)

Blue at the slightly more tedious and particularly irksome youth I met whilst helping out on merch at a gig lately. Irking in the first instance by having no understanding whatsoever of spatial awareness: if i can feel (not to mentioned smell, yuck) your breath then you're too close. And in the second instance by having a seriously nasty case of foot in mouth disease.

Without any introduction he asks my age. What chap asks a lady her age? Undeterred he persisted, guessing in increments of twos until I put him out of his misery letting him know I was *tumpty-tum*. I should've have the smelling salts ready. "crikey" he gasped with shock "I've never met anyone that old before". Clearly I am so astonishingly old that my previously quite effective death stare fell on deaf eyes.

One moronic ageist statement followed another "you seriously don't look *THAT* old" with the crescendo being "oooh, we have an 80s night on Friday you should definitely come, that's, like, your era of music right? and the bonus will be all these 23 year olds being amazed that you're so old but look their age". Great save mate. NOT. Then spent the next half an hour showing me his *hacked* iphone. Whoever bags this charming chappy really should consider themselves blessed.

A good w(h)ine was needed and the silver lining to any cloud is a girls girlfriends.

And plonk.

And gossip (by gossip I naturally mean a hefty bitching session).

And a cheesy romcom (preferably Bridget Jones, although anything with the yummy Colin Firth in it will suffice).

And nothing goes better with gossip and Grigot guzzling than popcorn.

And no worries ladies, I've been (un)reliably informed that it is good for the metabolism. #WIN

Cinnamon Popcorn*

Popcorn maize

Groundnut oil

Butter (about 50g)

Caster sugar

Cinnamon

1. Heat a glug of oil with a teaspoon of cinammon (or salt if using - this will evenly distribute it) in a heavy-based BIG saucepan.

2. When the oil starts heating put in a couple of kernels, when they pop take the saucepan off the heat and add the rest, shaking to distribute evenly.

3. Count 30 seconds and put back on the heat.

4. When the popping slows it's ready.

5. Put the butter and sugar in the pan and shake vigorously.

Voila, Cinnamon Popcorn. This would work just as well with salt, spices like cumin or cayenne and even chilli oil (which I just tried in Spuntino - more on that later)

*no picture I'm afraid, it was eaten faster than a buggati can get from nought to sixty

I leave you with "vintage" (like me) Smack The Pony...

...ladies, laughter and tips on ordering popcorn at the cinema

A BUN IN THE OVEN

2011-04-26T09:58:00.001+01:00

Let's face, whether you're celebrating Pesach or Easter (Or, as in our - complicated - household, both), in all truthfulness, it's just another reason to be greedy gannets. Swap the turkey for lamb and Santa for a bunny, the menorah for matza and pressies for chocolate and really it's just the same thing but in a warmer climate.

What better feeling is there than the lovely warm altruistic feeling of giving (oh alright, and receiving - let's be honest!) gifts and since when have I needed an excuse to quaff wine AND eat copious amounts of chocolate. Ah well, maybe not chocolate...

I know for all the die-hard death by chocolate fans out there the best gift in the world would be a giant egg within an egg within an egg, but frankly I can't think of anything yummier and more comforting that than a warm, spicy batch of fruity hot cross buns. Even lovelier when English folklore says that sharing a hot cross bun with another is supposed to ensure friendship throughout the coming year, particularly if "Half for you and half for me, Between us two shall goodwill be" is said at the time.

Hot Cross Buns

475g strong white flour

1x 7g pack of easy-bake yeast

50g golden caster sugar

50g butter

2tsp mixed spice

150g mixed fruit

1 egg, beaten

4tbsp plain flour

1. Mix 100g of the bread flour with the yeast and a tbsp of golden caster sugar, beat in the milk then cover and put somewhere warm for 30 mins or until frothy

2. Rub the remaining flour and butter with a pinch of salt then stir in the mixed spice, 50g golden caster sugar and the dried fruit

3. Beat the egg and pour into the yeast mixture then stir into the flour & butter mixture to make a soft & light dough (if sticky just add a bit of flour)

4. Knead the dough for a few minutes then put back in bowl, cover and leave to rise for about an hour (or until twice it's original size)*

5. Take the dough from the bowl, knead lightly then divide into 10 pieces and mould/roll into little balls, ay on a baking tray lined with paper, cover and leave for about 45 minutes until they've risen again

6. For the crosses mix the plain flour with 3tbsp of water then pipe over the buns and pop into an oven preheated to 200C for about 12-15mins.

7. Glaze with a mixture of 1tbsp sugar/1tsp milk and then leave to cool (or don't and blister the roof of your mouth like me)

*NB: I accidentally missed out this step and it didn't matter a jot to my buns, or at least I didn't think it did as they were delicious!

So go bake and go share and let's have a beautiful, beautiful year

...can you feel the love in the room?

RUBY RUBY RUBY RUBY ... MURRAY

2011-04-18T13:21:00.002+01:00

See what I did there, I combined the lyrics of a song by the Kaiser Chiefs with the cockney rhyming slang for curry. What japes.

And if it seems like I'm grasping for topics to write about, I kind of am.

Probably because this is the second time I am writing this blog, and the first one was much better. Unfortunately, my aged and addled brain can't remember a single word of the original. And the first was killed off by the cat (yeah, yeah, my dog ate my homework, etc, etc.)

This is not the first there has been cat-related nefarious activity involving my laptop. My other feral feline pretty much deaded the netbook by attempting to fly through a closed window. It was touch and go for a heart-stopping second but I managed to resuscitate it - barely - with the addition of a new ~~limb~~ keyboard.

This will become funny...in time (when I have a new laptop, probably)

Where was I? Oh yeah. So there I'm sat, editing a pre-written piece, smugly patting myself on the back (mentally, of course, or that would be a bit weird wouldn't it?) for being all efficient and writing ahead for a ~~rainy~~ sunny day! Taking a break for a cuppa, I come back and find this monster had wiped out the entrie thing.

This will become funny...in time (probably)

On the bright side the sun is sunshining and I have a patch of garden just begging to be lounged in which means you get a lot less waffle (mmm...waffles...)

So I'm off for sunshine and reading of my most excellent Christmas present from my lovely mummy and leav you with a tidy little recipe (I borrowed and adapted from my Ikea "Recipe A Day" book). A staple for after, or during, a boozy night (of which I have had an alarming amount in recent times). Even more brilliantly it only takes about 20-30 minutes to make and can be frozen into perfect ready-sized meals ready to be whipped out post-pub-or-club-orwhateveryourpreferencethesedays.

Monkfish & Prawn Curry

Monkfish (or halibut or any meaty white fish)

Prawns (cooked uncooked, king or titchy - whatever your taste, whatever your budget)

2 tbsp curry powder

1tsp turmeric

1 tsp cumin

1 or 2 tbsp green curry paste (optional)

2 medium onions

400g tin coconut milk (or 200g if watching weight)

6 tomatoes

Garlic

Bunch coriander

1 lemon, juiced

1. Squeeze the lemon over the white fish and put to one side to marinade

2. Sweat off the onions & garlic till tranluscent

3. Add the spices (& curry paste if using) mix for a minute then add the coconut milk & half the chopped coriander; gently cook for 10 minutes

3. Blanch the tomatoes; skin, de-seed and quarter and add to the pot with the fish and cook for a further 10 minutes then add the prawns and cook for a further 5 minutes (if raw, otherwise just chuck them in a couple of minutes before end of cooking time)

Serve with rice, the rest of the chopped coriander and a nice cold beer!

At the risk of now seeming like a mad old cat lady,

I leave you with another pernicious little puss

THE LONDON COFFEE FESTIVAL

2011-04-16T13:48:00.002+01:00

I've had a rather boozy time of late. So when, apropos of nothing, an email popped into my inbox inviting me to try my hand at being a Barista I didn't hesitate to rusvup an immediate HELL YEAH!

Sunday I awoke to glorious sunshine and to a glorious hangover, the penance of a misspent Saturday involving a belated family Christmas (attempts continually thwarted by snow, Brazil, flakiness, etc etc...) at my FAVOURITE 'restaurant' in the WORLD, Nandos (please please please please please please can I have a black card?!?!?!?! I promise to mention you forever and ever and ever in my blogs); a train journey home with a can of bloody mary & pina colada courtesy of M&S (buck up, M&S, two-and-a-half shots of booze=GREAT, tasting like sewage=TERRIBLE); meeting up with tthe Russian and pal and then Camden crawling it till dawn.

With the arrival of unsympathetic friend, Tre, I pulled myself together, pulled on a summer dress and braved the blazing heat and we made our way to where all the cool kids reside (it's true, wikipedia says so: In the UK, Hoxton and Shoreditch are known as hipster areas[12] where they are referred to pejoratively as "Shoreditch twats"). Traipsing the streets of Shoreditch trying to find The Truman Brewery (the last time I was here was a squillion years ago and it was full of dead bodies!) and gasbagging away, we inevitably got 'lost'; no great shakes on a gorgeous day like this; finding new little nooks and crannies and discovering the scenester hotspots we aways hear about but never actually get round to going to. After a couple of sunsoaked laps we finally found ourselves at our destination: The London Coffee Festival.

I'm afraid to say, as my first tweet will testify, that the festival didn't get off to a terribly good start for us. We were initially sent on a wild goose chase for Tre's tickets, subsequently ticked off by a member of staff in a most abrupt manner, then the security guard was downright rude, and to top it all off when we arrived at the La Cimbali stand and asked for a 'go' on one of their machines, they didn't have the slightest idea of who I was *blush, shuffle feet*. I'm surprised we didn't turn tail and hotfoot it out of there.

Once blushes had subsided, we hit 'Hyde Park' and cooled ourselves off with an iced coffee, ate 'breakfast' of muesli from Moma, felt disgustingly healthy downing shots of juice from Innocent, buying 50p bottles of PomeGreat and 'lunch' from Stewed; then felt digustingly unhealthy eating a dessert of sweeties from the Starbucks stall (and giggling as a little klepto-hand attached to a mini-woman - not so mini round the tum-tum though - crept up behind out waiter as we chatted and covertly snaffled a brownie from the tray, waddling away, head in the air with a "what moi?" expression on her face! Bless, they ARE free, love!) and biscuits from Bonne Mamon washed down with cat-poo coffee - I'm serious, the Civet cats eat the beans then poo them and then the guys over at Sea Island make rather nice (actually) coffee out of it (an acquired taste, perhaps?!)

All this food and coffee made me feel almost human, so it was time to jump off that wagon and try out a bespoke cocktail from Krave. Well, it would have been if we'd got the ticket we were supposed to receive on arrival - NAUGHTY LCF staff. We couldn't be arsed to meander allllll the way back to reception, so strolled away grumbling and griping until we turned the corner and saw knight in shining armour Vestal Vodka and Bean About Town who bestowed us with Bloody Mary and Expresso Martini cocktails. YUM!!! Chased up wth a delicious limited edition elderberry liquer. DOUBLE YUM!!!

Coffee'd and booze'd up we breezed through 'Soho' for a spot of ten-pin bowling (odd ? we thought so) and a lovely cuppa single-estate cha, meandered through out at 'Shoreditch' where it was sweets, sweets, sweets. Predictably, perhaps, I kept my intake confined to a scrummy Thorntons Chocolate liqeuer (sadly not available in shops) and Frangelico (my favourite).

After a snigger at the Well Hung Meat Company we turned full circle back to Hyde Park.

Cue squeals of delight from me when I saw this:

Ever since I got back from Brazil I have become OBSESSED with this stuff (I know, I know, I need to stop banging on about Brazil, even the Russian is now taking the mickey "when I was in Brazil, yada yada YAWN" he squeakily mimics, although, for the record I DO NOT have a squeaky voice - do I?!).

I swear by it, it's almost tasteless, but not quite, sweet with a syrupy texture - I know this could be off-putting for some but it just reminds me of sun, sun, sun and happy happy times. It's the best hangover cure I've ever tried, has no fat and I swear it makes your skin radiant. This is actually backed up by a science I don't really understand (I'll let the chaps at Vita Coco do that for me). As long as it tastes good and works it's magic on me. It's the PERFECT drink, if it was a woman it would be...erm.. not Kate Moss she's a night out on jaegerbombs - the drink that got you into trouble in the first place... hmmm, I'd say Gisele Bundchen: all Amazonian, sparkling, wholesome beauty.

Love, love, love it.

So much, I bought about 20 big bottles of the stuff, bit daft really considering I had to walk home with them but most definitely worth the hard slog and pain of stretched arms.

Time for just one more of Willy's extraordinarily good vodka cocktails, then a saunter through the Sunday crush that is Brick Lane, papping the street art for my new obsession: Instagram; attempting to rescue an amazing picture of tigers before realising it wouldn't actually go with anything in my flat so instead papping that too; eating a salt beef beigel with mustard so hot it made my nose tingle (LOVE THAT!) and then home sweet home, just in time to catch an absolutely lovely and brilliant Come Dine With Me, where - SHOCK HORROR - everyone was actually nice to each other. Nice is grossly underrated.

A glorious end to a glorious day!

Hangover cured ...

...I leave you with some "new age fun with a vintage feel"

RIO DE JANEIRO: THE GIRL FROM IPANEMA

2011-04-14T12:00:00.001+01:00

And so finally, I get to Rio. É boa pra caramba...

I left Cabo Frio, seen off by my brother and his in-laws onto a packed coach at silly o'clock in the morning, nervous but excited that this would be where the REAL (and solo!) adventure would start.

Arriving at the coach station I joined the queue for the yellow taxis - something I ignored at my peril on my return from Paraty with my fare creeping up from R$30 to R$65 - and took a taxi to where was going to be my home from home: The Rio Dolphin Inn.

My B&B was absolutely perfectly sat slapbang between Copacabana and Ipanema. A typical day would be waking up to the sun flooding through my window. A natter over my morning cup of tea with John the landlord, who'd just returned from his 5am surf. He really was the most amazing person. He's surfed all over the world and his B&B is more like a home. Full to bursting with interesting nick-nacks and reams upon reams of books & paraphernalia showing off his talents as a writer and photographer. He was a font of information and the reason I extended my stay in Rio - and also probably the reason I fell in love with the city.

This photo of Rio Dolphin Inn is courtesy of TripAdvisor

When you think of Rio, you think of beaches, so every sunny day I'd slip on my Havianas...you can buy Havianas everywhere, even at the butchers (?!) in all colours and with jewels and swarovski crystals to adorn them with (even the gents - you know you love it boys!), mine were only R$11 (about £4) BARGAINS! Packed my shopper (never take a bag!), my kanga (no one, but no one takes a towel *gringo*!)... and headed to Ipanema Beach.

I went to Copacabana beach once, in my whole stay, and even then it was a brief walk to check out the famous Copacabana Palace Hotel and the pavement designed by Roberto Burle Marx. Ipanema just felt safer and more savoury.

After trying out various Postes (each has it's own personality & tribe), I settled myself in a spot towards Leblon (the safe bit) between Poste 9 (the beautiful people) and Poste 10 (muscle beach!). The beach guys set up your parasol and chairs (believe me you need them, the sun gets fierce as my poor blistered tootsies can contest) and you can get in some serious sunbathing at a cheapy cheap cot of only R$10-15 (£5-7) per day. Real men cool off with the odd splash & bodysurf, while the women do the 'ipanema dip': so-called because the ladies nip to the edges of the (ferocious! there's a reason surfing is so popular here) sea and literally waft a bit of seawater over themselves to cool off.

I was there at New Year and there are life-size nativities on the street corners, very handy when trying to get your bearings! Otherwise just keep an eye out for the massive mountains in the back :-)

Ipanema is definitely NOT peaceful. But it is the perfect place to (pretend to) read a book and (pretend not to) watch the ab-perfect, tattooed gods that are Brazilian men play volley ball on the beach (or if you're a bloke - watch the big-booty'd amazonian goddesses). There really is nothing better in life than being without a care in the world, on a pristine white beach, hearing the crashing of waves accompanied by the chorus of "Acai Acai" from the vendors, being brought endless coconuts to drink away your hangover from the night before, eating hot kibe (a snack of manoic flour, rice, herbs & beef), grilled cheese on a stick or just munching on a pack of Biscoitos Globo (kind of half, biscuit half crisp - but defintiely moreish).

You don't want to turn into a fatty bum-bum, although big bottoms are adored here, so walk off the snacks with a stroll down the length of the beach to Arpoador at the end (jutting out between Ipanema & Copacabana). Grab a cold beer and finish off your day by watching the sun set. Pretty funny and weird at first when everybody claps when the sun takes it's final bow, but then you find yourself embracing the carioca tradition after a few times.

Now, even I can get bored of sunbathing. Actually, no, that's a total lie, but it did rain and I couldn't travel thousands of miles to spend a few weeks on a beach, could I? (Erm...).

So if (ha) it was chucking it down with rain, which for the first few days it was - torrentially and relentlessly (summer my a*se) - then I'd head to the beauty salon (take your pick, they're on every corner) and have a mani and pedi for around R$24 (yup less than £10 to be pampered by two beauticians). Or (gentlemen, look away now) for the best wax in the world. There's a reason it's called a 'Brazilian' you know. Brightly lit cubicles, a fan pointing in the 'right' direction and a bed with massage rollers - almost pain free and thoroughly hair-free. Why oh why oh why oh why can't they get it right in England? I digress, this almost certainly isn't food talk for a food blog, but what the heck.

Then I'd take a walk down the main street, dipping in and out of shop upon shop upon shop (beware the bookshops; they bear no prices and are about 3 times the price here. I went to Livraria da Travessa and paid R$79.80 (£35) for one guide book & a copy of Keats' letters to Fanny) heading to Leblon and the Rio Design Centre for a the serious shopping. And when I say 'serious' I actually mean expensive. A cup of coffee in their lounge was R$8 but worth it for the free and superfast wifi (top tip) and to check out the grand piano in their Starbucks belting out some Bacharach classics. After shopping in Bum Bum for my (two) rather shexshy super skinny bikini (they don't do shorts or briefs here, and if you wear your giant panted english knick-knacks you are immediately marked out and mocked as a gringo!).

Shopping is pretty thirsty work and there's a Sucos (juice bar) on every corner. There are about one hundred juices and smoothies to pick from, I'm not sure if I've mentioend before, but thy're particularly fond of their protein shakes and vitaminas. I was partial to an amazonian juice called Cupuacu (which to my utter delight I have found here in England, round the corner from my house no less at Cafe Brasileiro). You can grab yourself a little breakfast snack (Salgadinhos) at any of the corner cafes to go with you juice: Pão de queijo little cheese buns made with manoic flour and minas cheese are a popular choice with a hot black coffee, but I loved the coxinha - hot manoic flour fried balls with a cheese and chicken filling.

On a Tuesday / weekend, a mooch around the food or hippy markets is the perfect way to spend a morning. The food and flower market is just brilliant. Every stall you pass they give you nibbles of their goods and the smell is divine. The hippy market is a creative hub with stalls selling leather goods (I got myself a rather lovely purse for only R$10/£4), hand-made jewellery and paintings. I saw so much I wanted to buy but couldn't figure out a way to get it home. I'd advise bringing a mahoosive suitcase with you.

Shopping is hungry work, and if the titbits of fruit & meat from the stalls hasn't filled you up stop by a pastelarias for one of my favourite snacks: a thin pastry envelope containing meat (chicken for me, again) and flash fried, washed down with a cold cup of sweet sugarcane juice - it's worth it just to see the cane squeezed in the big machine.

Of course, you wouldn't be experiencing the true epicurean spirit of Rio if you didn't try a Rodizio Grill (Churrascuria). There's one to suit all budgets, a cheap as chips one in Copacabana, around R$20 for as much meat as you can eat and a great buffet. The VERY expensive such as Porcao which is the creme de la creme - think Le Gavroche of the Latin American world and then the happy medium. Carretao is just on the main street and reeealllly really good! Don't eat breakfast or lunch and clear your afternoon for complete immersion into meat! You have a red card and a green card - red means stop (obviously) and green means more, more, more. The buffet was full of every imaginable salad, side dish, sushi (surprisingly big over here) and stews, but the main event is the waiters racing out with freshly roasted meats: lamb, beef, steaks of every kind, chicken hearts (YUM), you name it they have it. Seriously, seriously good! If that's got you salivating then try Rodizio Rico with restaurants in the O2, Islington and Westbourne Grove.

If it's raining cats and dogs, rather than drizzling, then perhaps some more cultural pursuits are in order. So I'd recommend buying yourself a metro pass and hopping on the subway to Cinelândia, checking out the museums and theatre.

Or educate yourself with a visit the the Favelas. Before I arrived the idea of this to me seemed pretty questionable, especially with some tour operators going round in jeeps like it was some kind of human safari. Unacceptable. Instead, get a hands on experience and ensure your money is used in a more meaningful way by taking a visit with Favela Adventures. Owned and run by Favela residents, you'll see a whole new side to Ipanema, learn a lot more about the history and economics of Brazil and the disparity between the rich and the poor. I visited Rocinha, a city within a city, with renowned resident called Zezinho, a DJ and surprisingly sensitive soul, who spoke perfect english. He showed us the spectacular views, the house where he lived, took us for lunch at a self-service restaurant (just round the alley where the major drug actiavity takes place - so no cameras allowed!), to the Surf School (where the owner, who is a world champion surfer, is encouraging youngsters by getting them involved with surfing), the samba school where preparations were taking place for carnival and finally to the Rocinha Arts and Cultural Institute where we saw the incredibly talented art of the kids there.

A must for a cloudy afternoon is a trip to the Jockey Club. Have a flutter on the horses and if you dress smart you'll most likely be able to head up to the VIP area and celebrate your winnings in style. Just a hop skip and jump down the road from here (and short distance from Leblon) is Lagoa. On a sunny day (actully better if slightly cloudy!) grab yourself a bicycle and pedal the 22km circumference of the lake, taking in the beautiful surroundings and then head to Jardim Botanico to rest your limbs on a bench in the midst of an amazonian forest just listening to the sounds of bamboo creaking and monkeys monkeying around in the branches above you. Be prepared though the giant lilies really are NOT that giant. The fish however are, look at this little man!! I even managed to get some film footage of a humming bird sadly interrupted by a bunch of rowdy school children barging in to float their paper boats down the waterfall.

A beautifully cloudless sunny day is the perfect time to take a morning and head to Corcovado. I can't actually comment as I didn't do that. Eeeeek, I know, I KNOW. I went all the way to Rio and I didn't stand at the foot of Cristo Redentor.

I did however go to Pão de Açúcar (Sugarloaf Mountain). I started the day in Centro getting there by metro, went to see the big modern church and it's stunning stained glass windows - after all of 5 minutes (all you need really, unless you're religious). Hopping in one of the little passenger buses (more cramped maybe than the air-conditioned big buses - but more frequent, nippier, drop you right off at your destinationand much much cheaper!) we went to catch the rickety Bonde (tram) to Santa Teresa. Firstly, be prepared to wait - for about an hour at busy times - and secondly, if you're a girl, DO NOT STAND ON THE OUTSIDE. I was going to but it's seriously scary as you are hanging onto a pole and going over the arches themselves. I sandwiched myself inside the tram and it was much much less hair-raising. Hop off the tram as you just get into Santa Teresa (at the first restaurant you see) and then you'll be treated to a view of the city. It's so beautiful and quiet. We went for a meal at a lovely fish restaurant called Sobrenatural (if you're flash with the cash try Aprazivel or Térèze), and it was someone's birthday so the whole restaurant was full of brazilians eating, drinking and raucously making merry. Utterly brilliant.

I went to Lapa to see the arches (no I didn't get a picture - doh! It might be worth pointing out here DO NOT like me TAKE A POSH SLR, take a mini compact, much more discreet and less likely to be thieved) and the Escaderia Selaron. Linger on the stairs and Selaron himself will come out and hustle you into his little studio where despite the hard ssell you can't help but be charmed - I was charmed into parting with my hard earned dollars for a tongue in cheek work of art!

From Selaron it was a mad dash to catch the sunset at Sugarloaf. I can't express how amazing it was. Once I'd got over the initial fear of going so high in a wobbly cable-car it was just stunning. I think the pictures say more than my words ever could. Once the sun has set you can just sit and watch Rio light up and twinkle below you through the darkness. So romantic if you're with a partner, if solo (like me) then just a breathtaking life-affirming moment.

After sunset is when the fun starts.

My first night out I had a snack at a self-service restaurant just round the corner. This is a perfect budget way to line your stomach before the night ahead. You choose from a buffet of every salad you can imagine, meat and even sushi and then weigh your plate, a sticker is printed and stuck onto a tab on which they mark off any drinks or extras you get and you pay at the end. A bar that John recommended, run by Americans, called the Blue Agave was to be my home from home. The guys that work there are super friendly and brilliant at hooking a solo traveller up with like-minded people.

Cariocas know how to have fun, they also know how to drink. They have to bearing in mind the (ghastly) Cachaca is their national drink. Try a pinga com mel which is simply cachaça with honey. It is lethal. I went to Botafogo with intentions of dancing the night away and instead had to retire early after three, when I was falling asleep into my fourth. If, like me, you're a lightweight try the vodka caiprioskas instead, much much more taste & liver friendly (well, almost). After a couple of vodkas and meeting a group of english people we'd invariably headed onto a nightclub called Mel

(pronounced Melch - I know!) where on Tuesdays they had trays upon trays of free cachaças, live music and funtimes. Suffice to say I can't remember much about the nights I went, or maybe I don't want to, except that I definitely though I could salsa (I can't) and ended up sitting in a coffee shop till 4am with a group of Brazilian students. You can take the girl out of London but you can't take London out of the girl. Just keeps tabs on what you're drinking, as with mnosrt nightclubs/bars in Rio you are given a card at the beginning of the night which is swiped each time you get a drink (round) in - obviously, this can result in a shocker of a bill when you're stumbling out at 5am.

Leblon, Botafogo and Lapa have great nightlife, it's worth checking out The Rio Times listings to see what's on - though Lapa's street parties are renowned for a Friday/Saturday and if you're feeling daring then you should definitely head to Baile Funk on a Sunday. Baile funk is the favela parties. The one in Rocinha (biggest Favela in Rio - in fact, it's almost a city in it's own right and the only favela with actual signage) is much like a (grimier, edgier) London Carnival, but in a smallr space. Speakers and amps lie the walls blare bass so heavy you can feel it in your chest, individual stalls sell lethal cachaça cocktails and men with guns mingle and grind with the girls samba-ing in sexy outfits. I loved it. But I can see it's not for all, the American we went with hotfooted it at the first sign of an AK47. It's not pretty and it's not clean, but it's the other side of Brazil.

If you fancy something less 'exciting' and more civilised (but no less fun!) then head to Rio Scenarium. I went with my B&B buddies for a meal in the restaurant opposite, well outside actually so we could see when the queue started for the venue across the road. We shared a Moqueca, a kind of fish stew for two - there was enough for four. As soon the queue across the road starteed getting a bit busy we paid up and joined. It was pretty pricey to get in (about £20), but it's astonishing. Stunning: props and antiques all over the wall. And you'll be treated to the sight of the cream of Brazilian society shaking their stuff to top Brazilian musicians. The ladies look like they're Roadrunner - their feet moving feverishly while their upper halves are still. Crazy. Sober, I decided not to try my luck that night and vowed to take lessons so I wouldn't be standing like a ninny on the fringes the next time I went.

Google found me Helio Ricardo, and with some trepidation I went to a gym to be taught Forró and Samba. Wow it was pretty intense. I haven't been held that tightly or closely by anyone but my boyfriend, in fact, not even him!!!! Once over my blushes, I concentrated on my moves as part of the package is going to a club in the evening. Uncfortunately (or fortunately?!) it deluged that night. So the nightcvlub was almost empty. We downed a couple of caiprioskas (poor Helio tried to refuse, but not a chance) and with the Dutch Courage I managed a couple of dances, before sitting down and people-watching. Sadly the night finished early because there were only a few in the cavernous hall but we got our money back. If I'd more time I'd have definitely done it again! And well done Helio, I can remember the steps even now!

And so the weeks passed quickly: Cabo Frio with it's family funtimes and New Year dancing in the streets, Paraty with it's amazonian and culinary adventures and Rio, beautiful, hedonistic, crazy, dirty, expensive, busy Rio - where I left my heart.

Reading this blog back, I don't feel like I remotely do Rio justice. The only way you're going to know the real Rio and all the adventures it holds is to go yourself. But give yourself about three months, actually, six months...actually, a year...actually, once you're there you'll never want to return. On my last morning we drove down to one of the beaches outside of Rio, Sao Conrado, and as I stripped down to my undies (I never learned my lesson & remembered to wear a bikini under my night clothes) and ran into the sea with the sun rising over the horizon, I swore I'd be back (within the year).

Que saudade, Rio!

I leave you with an (aptly named) Idiot Abroad...

Like I said before, I really couldn't do Rio justice in this one blog, so if I've whetted your appetite for moreand perhaps even convinced you to go then read, read, read! Some great books (pretty much begged and borrowed from John!) were:
Rio For Partiers - great for social solo travellers
Rio De Janiero Everyman Map Guide - discreet and portable with guide and map all in one - this was my life saver!
Time Out Rio De Janeiro - slightly dated now but still relevant and comprehensive guide with some great tips
How To Be A Carioca - an alternative, irreverent guide to Rio which is a MUST read

There just wasn't the room to include all the beautiful images, landscapes, beaches, sunsets, sunrises, and even street art that I would've if I could've, check out my flickr stream here.

PERRIER NIGHTS

2011-04-12T11:05:00.005+01:00

In the words of Charlie Sheen I'm #WINNING.

Although I almost certainly didn't feel like it when I woke up on Wednesday morning with a raging red wine hangover from a rowdy 'night before'. I groaned and I moaned a LOT more when I realised my night would consist of a cocktail evening out. EEK! Quite frankly, my body was screaming at the thought of any more alcohol. But on the other hand the tickets were won, and I never win anything! So it would be an insult to fate and the universe not to go...and, quite frankly, I needed to man the f*** up.

And so it was Caroline and I rocked up at a beautiful Georgian townhouse in Frizroy Square for the launch of Perrier Nights: a series of mixology events that will take place at undisclosed locations from April throughout the year.

We were immediately greeted with a cocktail. Uh-oh, my liver gurgled in dismay. But actually it was scrumptious: a ginger (healthy) and apple (healthy) concotion topped up with sparkling water (super-healthy). It didn't taste remotely of alcohol and was really refreshing. I had three. Erm, UH-OH!!!!

After a couple of canapes (and I mean a couple! I know we were the last group, and greedy-gannets had clearly gone before us, but more sustenance is needed next time please Perrier peeps!) we were taken on a journey through different decades. Starting with the original cocktails of the 1900s, involving (of course) more than a little absinthe (which I gamely sipped and passed on), fake moustaches and a jolly old singalong.

Jumping forward in time to the 1970's, we donned feather boas and capes and boogied away on the dancefloor. Having worked up a thirst getting on down and dirty, we sipped on Harvey Wallbanger (made by Caroline's fair hands), glugged amazing Mojito and
downed-in-one something scrumptious containing creme de menthe. I know, so wrong but yet so right!

The final stop was the present day and renowned mixologist Laurent Greco took us through an 'Extreme Cocktail Master Class' where he showed us the science behind cocktails. We were stunned by berry 'caviar', left in awe by the cocktail below (how? how did he get the water to just sit on top?! We were flabberghasted) and finished with engulfing us in spectacularly spooky smoke. In fact, he's almost (almost) convinced me to head back to gay Paree just to visit Mojito Lab.

All too soon, it was time to head downstairs for a couple more delicious ginger concoctions (I heartily recommend for a delicate constitution!) before being presented with the best goody bag ever (since Miller Harris candles anyway...looooong before the recession natch!) containing a beautiful Perrier book of advertising through the ages, a '70s cheesy song compilation and a much needed bottle of the soft & sparkling stuff s we headed out the dor and home.

Whether you have a thirst for history, for knowledge, for sobriety, for sparkling water or (like me) for amazing cocktails, together with great surroundings and lovely people, make sure you don't miss any of the future Perrier events!

Get in the loop on Facebook or Twitter

I know, I know, my Charlie Sheen tie-in is tenuous to say the least, didn't you know that alcohol kills brain cells? And memory, it does something to that to...but I can't remember...

I'll just leave you with him,

and his...erm...winning recipes

THE YUM FACTOR

2011-03-29T20:43:00.001+01:00

Seen the Ikea ads? Fallen love with Man Like Me? Fancy winning a kitchen?

A competition to find Britain’s best recipe, as voted for by visitors to The Yum Factor website with a panel of judges declaring the winners, starts today. The grand prize is one of two IKEA kitchens worth £2000!!

The competition, which runs until Friday 20th May 2011, allows members of the public to upload their original recipes to the competition website where visitors can vote for their favourites. A panel of judges will then decide which three of the top ten most voted for recipes will enter the final round Taste-Off. In the Taste-Off, a professional chef will cook the three recipes for a panel of cooking experts and an 888ladies representative. The participants that have submitted the two cooked recipes deemed the best will each win £2000 worth of IKEA vouchers to buy a brand new kitchen.The runner up will be awarded £300 of bonus money into their 888ladies’ account.

Now I'm not generally one for gambling, but I'm also not averse to the odd flutter (what's a tenner when people spend gazillions on the lottery?!) and I fancy your odds on this one, especially with a 'Head Chef' such as myself to guide you. Check out my recipe for Shepherd's Pie and get those creative juices running!

Good luck!!

NB (just a headsup....the serious shizzle): All my features are editorial: I do not receive any payment from venues, artists or promoters. Every effort has been made to ensure accuracy of information listed but we cannot accept responsibility for errors or omissions.

BRINGING HOME THE BACON

2011-03-29T15:47:00.000+01:00

"This tradition, which still continues every four years in Great Dunmow, Essex, is based on the story of a local couple who, in 1104, impressed the Prior of Little Dunmow with their marital devotion to the point that he award them a flitch [a side] of bacon. The continuing ritual of couples showing their devotion and winning the prize, to considerable acclaimation by the local populace, is certainly old and well authenticated. Geoffrey Chaucer mentions it in The Wife of Bath's Tale and Prologue, circa 1395:

But never for us the flitch of bacon though,
That some may win in Essex at Dunmow."

Thought you might appreciate the history lesson, a little something I had the time to research now I'm most definitely not working all the hours bringing home the bacon.

I am instead devoting myself to becoming a domestic goddess (not that I wasn't before, you have been reading my blog, right?!), googling interesting facts such as this and watching copious amounts of telly (please, please someone give me a job before my eyes actually do turn square.)

In another (cannabalistic?!) sense, this little piggy went to market and did indeed bring home home the lardons for a dish demanded persistently (second-ly, minute-ly, hourly, daily) by the Russian, and as it is (was, by the time I get round to scribing the post no doubt) Bacon Conoisseurs' Week 2011 (no really!) I caved under peer pressure (don't we all) and made a French favourite...

Quiche Lorraine

Shortcrust pastry (recipe here)

200ml creme fraiche

200 ml double cream

3 eggs

200g packet bacon lardons (smoke or unsmoked - I prefer unsmoked!)

50g Gruyere cheese (optional: traditional French Quiche Lorraine doesn't have the cheese!)

Sprinkle of nutmeg

1. Line a shallow ovenproof dish with pastry &amp, blind bake for about 20 mins at 180 degrees then allow to cool

2. Fry off the lardons till they're slightly coloured, when cool put in pastry case

3. Beat together the creme fraiche, double cream, eggs, 3/4 of the cheese & nutmeg, season then pour over the lardons and sprinkle with the rest of the cheese

4. Pop in the oven for about 35-40 minutes or until browned on top and not wobbly

Serve with salad and a crisp white and a larg dose (rather apt name) of the following....

Neatly tying Essex, pigs, and peer pressure I leave you with

a show I am hoplessly addicted to...
Is it really? Isn't it real? I DON'T CARE!
But that Mark is a proper... *OINK!* (insert swearword here)

GAME ON

2011-03-11T11:01:00.003Z

And so British Pie Week rolls around again.

Has it really really been a whole year? I can't believe that it's been a whole month since I returned from Brazil!! I know, I know, you're all tired of me saying "when I was in Brazil..." yadda yadda yadda...(you only get a brief respite, adventures in Rio up next week!)

Well, to give my unemployed self some useful employment during the afternoon hours (which can dangerously become a telly vortex for antique shows) and because I've barely cooked since I've back AND because it's been so damn cold, I decided to make a pie in honour of Pie Week.

Because I'm superskint (did I mention I'm currently unemployed) I used up the game cannily bought reduced from Waitrose and opportunely frozen.

It was tasty, and gamy (funny that, clue in the name perhaps) but in hindsight I probably would have lined the pie dish as I like a hefty serving of pastry, not just a nominal little puff pastry hat! Oooh the carbs, the carbs...

GAME PIE

25g dripping (or 4 tbsp vegetable oil)

1kg mixed game meat (or two packs of the mixed game

500g (x1 pack) diced venison

200g (x1 pack) smoked lardons (preferably free range!)

2 large onions, sliced

1 stick celery, sliced

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

2 carrots, sliced

250g chestnut / wild mushrooms

50g plain flour

1 bay leave

1 Bouquet garnis

2 tbsp redcurrent jelly

500ml chicken/beef stock

Glass of red wine (roughly 250ml)

Couple of sprigs of thyme

Packet of Jus-Rol puff pastry* (you could make this yourself, but I think there’s a reason that even chefs like Jamie Oliver and Delia Smith use ready-made)

1. Heat the vegetable oil in a large heavy-bottomed pan, once hot flour the game and brown in batches batches. Set the browned meat aside.

2. In the pan used to cook the meat add the onions, garlic and lardons, cook until onions are translucent.

3. Add the celery and the mushrooms and cook for a further 3-4 minutes, or until tender then add the bay leaf, bouquet garnis, redcurrant jelly, stock, red wine and thyme and meat

4. Bring the mixture to a simmer and cook, uncovered, for two hours, or until the meat is tender. Set aside to cool (I did this overnight so the meat really marinated, but you could just leave a couple of hours if in a ‘hurry).

5. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 180C

6. If you are taking my advice and lining the pie dish - grease and roll your shortcrust pastry to size and press to the base & sides, then blind bake for about 20 minutes.

7. Fill your pie dish (or pastry case, as above) with the game mixture, (dab around the edge of your pastry lining if you have it with a dab of your egg yolk) pop the puff pastry hat on top and paint with beaten egg yolk.

8. Pop in oven and bake for about 40-50 minutes, or until brown on top and cooked right through.

Did someone say pie?
I leave you with Family Guy...

PARATI PART DOIS

2011-03-10T12:52:00.001Z

THE ACADEMY OF COOKING & OTHER PLEASURES

Rua Dona Geralda 288

Centro Historico

Paraty, RJ Brazil

t. 55 24 3371 6468

e. yara@chefbrasil.com

For my last night in Parati David at the Pousada Guarana, knowing my love of food, managed to get me a last minute place on a cookery course in the centre.

It was, inevitably, pouring down with rain and a lovely family staying at the B&B gave me a lift to the edge of the centre and I, inevitably, got lost: I walked, and walked, and walked and walked around and around and around and around for about 20 minutes before I FINALLY found it. To be fair, what use is a map where only every other street is labelled?!

Drenched and miserable, my spirits immediately lifted when I was greeted at the door by Richard with a large Caiprinha, and introduced to my fellow sous chef for the evening - Emma, a fellow Brit.

After gulping down my aperitif, Richard immediately put me to work making my first Caiprinha... proper one anyway! And then we retired to Yara's comfy living room and listened to the story behind her school; her incredible travels and amazing life. I could have listened all night, she's a pretty extraordinary woman, but tummies were rumbling and there was an Amazonian feast to be cooked. By us. Dear lord, what had I let myself in for.

We donned our aprons and I was given the task of stuffing the tomatos, first with a lesson in how to hold a knife - who knew I'd been doing it so wrong for so long and how comfortable it is when you actually do it right! I was then shown how to make the farofa and Emma and I took it in turns to dress and wrap the fish in the banana skins. I have to say I was proud. And it was so easy. I'm not sure how much of that was down to Yara's prep and the regular Caiprinha drinking breaks, but I was proud anyway.

We were rewarded for our (erm) hard graft with amazingly delicious food (even if I do say so myself) and wonderful company. The stuffed tomatoes were perfectly flavoured, with the crispness of the farofa stuffing perfectly complimenting the softness of the baked tomato; the fish was perfectly steamed, the tropical fruit salad cleansed the palate and the tapioca pudding with the cupuacu ice-cream & shot of cachaca was just sublime. We talked over candlight & wine into the early hours before our yawns signalled home and bed.

Emma and I made a half-hearted attempt to go to Paraty 33 Bar, where Kylie circa 2003 was pumping out and lasers spotlighted the sky circa 1990, the eurotrash theme was completely with spotty 15 year olds drunk on the equivalent of thunderbird trying to cajole the bouncers to let them in - then decided that an early start and a private boat tour for my final precious few hours seemed more palatable.

Taking a top tip from David and Yara, we embarked on Benedito's boat at 10am and as we reclined, in blazing sunshine, on cushions on the roof of the boat he navigated us round teeny tiny little private islands; some inhabitated, others only by giant lizards and birds. We swam in the perfectly azure sea, went for a dip with turtles, drank from freshly hacked coconuts from the lush jungle backing the beach, side-stepped giant ants hiking up to a fort and drank in the stunning landscape until, sadly, it was time for me to hotfoot it to the coach station for my 3 o'clock ride back to Rio.

The recipes for the meal we cooked (below) & other Brazilian treats can be found in Yara's book The Brazilian Table

RECIPES

Stuffed Tomatoes with Manioc Flour & Cashew Nuts

serves 4

2 large tomatoes, ripe

2 tsp sugar

½ cup cashew nuts, roasted

1 ½ ups Farofa (see recipe below)

4 ½ tbsp olive oil, divide
¹/₃ cup crumbled blue cheese
½ cup scallions, divided (¼ cup chopped finely)
1 cup watercress & arugula, washed & dried
Salt & pepper to taste

1. Wash and dry the tomatoes. Cut off a small slice from the top of each tomato. Place tomatoes cut-side down on the cutting board.

2. Using the point of a paring knife in a vertical position, make a circular incision ½ inch deep and 2 inches wide. You should end up with 2 nice conical tomato pieces with a point at the end. Reserve for decoration

3. Sprinkle the inside of the tomatoes Core the tomatoes. with sugar and turn them upside down on a plate. The tomatoes will release some water.

4. Select 4 beautiful cashew nuts and save them for decoration. Coarsely crush the rest of the cashew nuts and reserve.

5. Just before you finish cooking the farofa, mix in 3 tbsp olive oil, the crumbled cheese, the crushed cashew nuts, and quarter cup finely chopped scallions. Mix well and reserve.

6. Turn the tomatoes, place them on the counter, and sprinkle with salt. Using a spoon, fill each tomato with half of the farofa mixture, pressing lightly. Top with the rest of the farofa mixture, a whole cashew nut, and a couple of pieces of scallion. Arrange on a salad plate with the tomato in the centre.

7. In a medium-size bowl, toss the watercress and arugula with remaining olive oil, salt, and pepper. Arrange around the tomatoes. Place round tomato top by the side

Amazon-Style Fish

Serves 6

Tomato Sauce:

2 tbsp vegetable oil

1 cup chopped onions

6 garlic cloves, peeled & chopped

3 tbsp chopped cilantro

Salt and pepper to taste

1lb tomatoes, peeled, seeded & quartered or 1 can whole tomatoes, quartered

2 tsp Tabasco sauce or 1 malagueta pepper, crushed

1. In a medium saucepan, heat the vegetable oil and sauté the onions over medium-low heat until they soften.

2. Add the garlic, mixing well, and then the cilantro. Stir a couple of times. Season with the salt and pepper.

3. Add the tomatoes and the Tabasco or malagueta pepper. Cook for 3 minutes and set aside.

Fish:

8 tsp salt, divided

2 tbsp lime juice

6 cups water, divided

6 large shrimp, peeled but with tails on

6 squares of banana leaf or 1–2 whole young banana leaves

3lb whole fish (boned & open in butterfly with head & tail on) or 6 fish fillets

1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. In a small bowl, combine 4 tsp salt and the lime juice. Reserve.
2. In a small saucepan, bring to boil 2 cups water with 4 tsp salt. Place 2 shrimp at a time in the pan and cook them for 2–3 minutes. Remove from the pan and immerse in ice water. Drain and reserve.
3. If using fresh banana leaves, in a medium-size frying pan, boil 4 cups water. Using tongs carefully immerse one banana leaf square and blanch for1–2 minutes. Remove and strain. The leaf is now shiny and green. Repeat with other leaves and reserve.
4. If using a whole banana leaf, pass it turns shiny and soft. counter and sprinkle with 1 teaspoon filet on top of the banana leaf and of the salted lime juice. Using a dessert spoon, spread the tomato sauce ½ inch wide lengthwise in the centre of the filet. On top of that, build a lengthwise mound of farofa. Cut a couple of pieces of grilled banana and place them on top of the farofa. Alternate with 2 onion confit; press down slightly with the palm of the hand. Gently roll up the fish so the contents remain in place. It helps to cup your hands around the side of the roll and press in as though you were making a snowball. Fold the banana leaf around the fish as if you were wrapping a present, and pin each end with a toothpick.
6. If you are using a whole fish, you need a large banana leaf. Place the fish open on top of the banana leaf. Spread 2–3 tbsp of salted lime juice on the leaf and place the whole fish on the leaf. Fill the fish in the same way as described above. Close the fish and wrap it with the banana leaf, tying it with a piece of string or using a toothpick.
7. Place the wrapped fish in a baking dish. Pour 1 cup water on the bottom of the pan and bake for 20 minutes, or 30 minutes if making a whole fish.
8. To serve, open the banana leaf, folding it under the fish filet. Place 1 teaspoon of the tomato sauce on top of the fish. Carefully place a medium-size shrimp encircling the tomato sauce. Place 1 tablespoon of farofa on the plate encircling the fish, and beside it place 2 grilled bananas and 2 onion confit. Serve with malagueta sauce on the side.

Farofa

serves 6

4 tbsp olive oil or butter

4 garlic cloves, finely chopped

2 cups manioc flour (preferably the yellow kind)

Salt and pepper to taste

1. In a medium-size skillet, heat the oil or butter over low heat and sauté the garlic. When the garlic is soft, pour the manioc flour through your fingers as you stir slowly, mixing it with the butter. or until golden brown. Turn the banana gently with a spatula and grill the other side.

2. When all the fat is absorbed by the flour, gently mix with a spatula, moving the flour from one side to the other to roast it. The farofa is ready when it changes colour from light yellow to a more vivid yellow. Season with salt and pepper.

Onion Confit

Serves 6

5½ cups water, divided

3 cups small yellow whole onions

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

6 tbsp butter

5 tsp salt

1. Bring 5 cups water to boil in a pot and blanch the onions for 2 minutes. When they are cool enough to handle, peel the onions and reserve.

2. Heat oil and butter in a heavy skillet over low heat. Place the onions in the skillet and turn them as they become golden, shaking the pan constantly. Add more butter if needed. Keep shaking the skillet to move the onions around in order to make them golden. It will take around 15 minutes.

3. When the onions are golden and cooked, turn off the heat and let the skillet cool. Pour ½ cup water and the salt into the skillet and simmer, shaking the skillet well and scraping the bottom of the pan. Let it cool completely and then place the onions in a jar. Cover onions with the liquid from the skillet. Refrigerate up to 3 weeks.

Grilled Bananas

serves 6

8 bananas, firm but not green

2 tbsp vegetable oil

4 tbsp butter or 6 tbsp olive oil

1. Peel the bananas. Place a banana on a cutting board and, using one hand to secure it, gently slice the banana ain half lengthwise with a sharp knife. Do the same with the other bananas. Reserve.

2. In a heavy skillet, warm the vegetable oil and butter or the olive oil. When it starts foaming, place 2 halves of the banana at a time in the skillet and grill on one side for 3–4 minutes or until golden brown. Turn the banana gently with a spatula and grill the other side.

3. Remove the bananas from the skillet and place them in a serving dish.

4. Serve at once or heat in the oven on medium-high heat, covered with foil, for 5 minutes.

Tropical Salad

serves 4

Vinaigrette:

4 tsp salt

2 tsp black pepper

2 tsp balsamic vinegar

¼ cup olive oil

1 In a small bowl combine salt, black pepper, and balsamic vinegar.
2. Whisk in the olive oil until it emulsifies. Reserve.

Salad:
1 passion fruit
3 cups French baby lettuce, washed & dried
1 cup watercress, washed & dried
2 tsp salt
1 cup sliced star fruit, persimmons, or mango
2 tbsp grated Brazil nuts

1. Cut the passion fruit in half. Place the pulp, including the seeds, in a strainer and press with a spoon. Collect the juice in a small bowl and reserve. NB: You may use bottled passion fruit juice, but the juice of the fresh fruit is better.
2. In a large bowl, mix the greens. Sprinkle salt and ½ of the passion fruit juice on the greens and toss gently.

Cupuaçú Ice Cream

serves 8
1lb frozen cupuaçú pulp (you
may use any other frozen tropical
fruit pulp)
2¼ cups condensed milk
2 tbsp lime juice

1. In a blender, combine the frozen pulp and the condensed milk. Blend for 3 to 4 minutes, stopping a couple of times to unblock the frozen pulp if necessary. Add the lime juice and blend some more.
2. Pour the mixture into a transparent serving dish or stainless steel tray and place in the freezer for a couple of hours.

Tapioca Blinis

serves 8
¾.cup tapioca
2 egg yolks, lightly beaten
3 egg whites, lightly beaten
4½ tbsp coconut milk
1½ cups milk
4½ tbsp cachaça
2 tbsp sugar
2 tbsp butter

1 Spread tapioca evenly in a thin layer on a medium-size tray.
2 In a medium bowl, combine the egg yolks, egg whites, and coconut milk. Mix well and reserve.
3 In a small saucepan, bring the milk, cachaça, and sugar to a quick boil. To temper the eggs, add ¼ cup of the milk to the bowl with the eggs and whisk. Gently pour the tempered eggs into the saucepan, whisking rapidly.
4 Pour the liquid over the tapioca and, using a fork, make circles around it so the liquid soaks in totally (do not mix). Cover and let sit for 2 hours.
5 Cut 3-inch circles in the tapioca. Just before serving, heat a medium size heavy skillet. When the skillet is hot, place a dollop of butter in it.
6. Using a spatula, place 2 circles at a time in the skillet. Sear the tapioca blinis on both sides until they turn golden.
7. Place 1 blini on an individual plate and serve immediately.

NB: I found all of these ingredients, or a fair replacement in London. It just takes a bit of a search. Totally worth it though.

I leave you with a place called Trindade...

ESCAPE TO PARATI: CACHOEIRAS & CACHAÇA

2011-03-03T23:30:00.002Z

My whirlwind love affair with Rio has still left me breathless and wrung out a month later. There's just too much to tell, so much was done, so many experiences, that still can't get my brain wrapped around it. So I'm going to save (not the best as such... but...) Rio till last.

After just a couple of weeks I needed a break. Seriously. A holiday within a holiday. Only for a few days. Plus I was feeling guilty that I'd come all this way, with all my intricate plans, only to chuck them aside in favour of sun, beach and good times. So, I decided to head down the coast To Parati. Bit scary actually, as Rio was experiencing the wettest summer anyone could remember. And tragic too, north of Rio were floods and mudslides in which 420 people sadly died.

After another night of no sleep whatsoever (more on that later), an extraordinarily hungover me managed to load up my (heavy) case, check out of the B&B and get myself down to the coach station for the 1 o'clock Costa Verde bus. Except, as is so typical in Rio, there was no 1 o'clock bus. There was, instead, a 4 o'clock bus. Thank goodness, by this point, I had mastered a few choice phrases of Portuguese so there was no repeat of tears and fears as upon my first arrival in Brazil.

In fact, I whiled away the (severely hungover) hours (sigh) by treating myself to a Bob's Burger and the requisite manicure/pedicure before finally embarking. As before, take no noice whatsover of departure times, travel times etc, they bear no resemblance whatsoever to Rio times.

As we drove on down winding roads with ever incerasing lushness the weather changed from blazing sunshine to torrential rain. So much so that we were actually at a standstill at one point. There must be something about me and coaches as exactly the same thing happened on the coach from Ciampino airport to Sorrento!!! I won't bore you with a blow-by-blow account of a boring bus journey but the BR101 coastal highway is a gorgeous way to travel (in daylight) and it's hardly a chore in a air-conditioned bus with a chair that reclines into a bed - beats air travel ANY TIME! Especially at only R$ 101 (roughly £35). Suffice to say that it's took considerably longer than the four and a half hours it was supposed to and I arrived, once again, at my destination under cover of darkness.

This time, however, I lucked out. At Pousada Guarana - they'd been expecting my lateness and kept reception open for me, a cup of herbal tea ready and took my bags from my weary arms and showed me into the most beautiful boutique room. I could have cried wih gratitude but I was too shattered to do anything but fall into my gorgeous super huge bed and fall into deep slumber!

The next morning I rose for breakfast to be greeted by a purring cat outside my bedroom door - home from home! Lovely hosts David & Jimena greeted me in the breakfast room and, over delicious cheese, ham and scrambled eggs with fresh-baked bread and cake, we swapped cat & dog stories/photos. They then gave me a brilliant map with details of how to get to the historical centre (just a 15 minute walk or 5 minute cycle on the bikes they provide) and great advice about how to cram as much into two days as I possibly could, starting with David managing to get me onto a horse trek at the very last minute; giving me just 5 minutes to wash the hangover and travels from the day before.

The horse trek was run by a man (wish I could remember his name) who had a farm about a 20 minute drive away from the pousada. A trip shared with him (broken English) and two Paulistas (mother & daughter - no english!). Nao problemo, I wasn't there for conversation but to drink in the landscapes.

I had totally forgotten how huge horses actually are, for some reason in my head I was thinking of the stumpy little beach donkeys. But my beast was a magnificent, if skittish - at palm leaves (can you believe it?!) - beast!

I got into the swing of things pretty quickly - like a bike you never forget - and it was incredible. Cantering through lush jungle, pretty scary going into the swollen river that came up past my thighs but all worth it to come out at a beautiful waterfall.

We immediately stripped off and jumped in. It was pretty special, actually. I don't think I've ever felt so relaxed and joyful and happy that at that moment as the sun came out for the duration of our dip and blazed down on us, after an exhausting but exhilarating horse ride, sitting in the amazon under a waterfall!!!!!!!!

After our long dip we got back on our horses and started the roundtrip backto the farm where we hungrily wolfed down farm fresh cheese and hot hot black coffee laced with sweet Rapadura.

Later that day, saddle sore, I walked into the historical centre to have a mooch around. Parati a a turbulent history, tangled up wth slavery during the 1600s when it was the second most important port in Brazil - exporting gold and importing slaves to work in the mines. When slavery was abolished in 1888 it became a ghost town, only to be resurrected with a tourist boom when in 1966 it was declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. No cars are allowed down it's cobbled streets, so the main modes of travel are foot, bike or you can take a horse-rawn carriage round the the 'city' centre. Romantic, eh?!

For the solo traveller, like me, there is loads to keep you occupied such as lingering in the many book shops - in August Parati holds the Festi Literaria Internacional de Parati (FLIP) whre well-known authors, poets and journalists from around the world come to take part in four days of readings, workshops and shows; wandering round the plethora of artists studios and, in my case given it was January - checking out the carnival costumes.

I got lost. Of course. Though how anyone can get lost in what essentially is a tiny square, I have no idea, but I manage it EVERY SINGLE TIME.

So it was lucky that as I trudged the cobbled streets I stopped at an artists workshop, taken by the watercolours. The woman turned out to speak fluent english and proceeded to give me the lowdown on all the best restaurants giving me a much-needed map with hand-written tips. Not that I was unhappy to be lost. I could have happily walked round for hours in the beautiful surroundings which were less 'city' than village - but I guess in this remote part of Rio, it really was more like a city!

I had wanted to treat myself to a plush dinner at Restaurante Porto but it was too early and it hadn't opened yet so I 'settled' for The Margarida Cafe, on the corner of rua a Ferraria and Rua Domingos Gonçalves de Abreu. I am so glad I did as it was beautiful, delicious and a fraction of the price (still pretty pricey though, another prevalent theme of Rio!).

I started with a cocktail, and why not, I'd been a good girl since Rio (for a whole two days!) and chose a sweet, sweet, creamy (can't remember what it's called - the dangers of not retaining the receipt!) little number that sozzled me at first sip! Something the waiters found hysterical, trying to ply me with more cachaças.

And then went for the Chef Alain Uzan: grilled fish, garlic confit (the first garlic I'd tasted since my stay in Brazil!) sweet potato & squash with shrimp cream. Absolutely divine! Actually, the fish was slightly overcooked. But salmon & vegetables, in Brazil, after over two weeks of meat meat meat meat and rice, was the best thing I've ever ever had!

En route o the pousada I booked two tours with Paraty Tours which I only slightly regretted later. Yes, they are over-priced for what they are and yes you probably could organise it better yourself and spend less BUT I literally had two days to squeeze everything into and didn't want to faff about maybe missing out the most important/ prettiest bits of Parati before my return to Rio. I went for the Jeep Tour and the Trindade tour which would both take in the waterfalls, distilleries, gold trail and the stuning beaches I'd heard so much about in Trindade.

Both days it utterly, utterly chucked it down. And I mean torrential. I was SO relieved I hadn't gone to Ilha Grande as planned - having heard horror stories of power cuts and nothing to do. At least I was occupied! And it's always something to do on my return; though when I say 'something to do', all really intend on doing is lazing on pristine white sand on one of the top 10 beaches in Brazil!

The Jeep Tour - shared with mainly Paulistas - took in the waterfalls in the National Park of Serra da Bocain with it's rainforest and dips in the cachoeiras (waterfalls). I was even cajoled into jumping off a rock into the pool. TWICE. Until, on getting out the second time I saw what I thought was a frond of tree and realised it was a snake and then refused to go anywhere near any water again.

It was actually pretty sunny and lovely for the morning, so we were lucky for our swims and journey down Caminho do Ouro (gold trail) to the first Cachaça distillery: Fazenda Murycana - dating back to the 17th century with it's original waterwheel and beautifully restored house. If you do this tour then taste and buy your cachaça here as there won't be the opportunity to get it this cheap (or tasty) in the city centre. We had a nose around the house and went upstairs for sweet, hot coffee (again with rapadura) and romeo & juliet.

We then drove up and up and up until I thought we could drive no more - and out we came to this fabulous view:

Then stopping off to lunch at Villa Verde which has amazing reviews but, frankly, I found the service to be slow, rude and the food to be passable. I had a very stodgy pumpkin ravioli. The surroundings are pretty amazing, but don't actually make up for a very disappointing meal. It's also VERY pricey, probably why the tour operator took us there. It was there, under cover of the restaurant that the skies opened.

Which meant the walk from the restaurant to the road via the slippery, rickety (planks missing and everything, like in a cartoon) hanging bridge was something else! Scary and exciting in equal measure, especially as the river was engorged and roaring underneath us (I know it doesn't look it, but take my word for it: it was!).

We finished up at Cachoeira da Penha by the church of the same name and watched the tour operators death-defying surf down the rock (wonder where the name comes from? hmm) before crashing into a miniscule pool. Amazed he didn't die. (BTW do not watch Turistas (Paradise Lost) before you come here!). It was too cold and rainy so I didn't partake. Nothing to do at all wth me being a cowardy custard. Not one bit. Certainly nothing to do with being afeard of snakey things residing in the water!

Our final visit of the trip was to the cachaça distillery by surfer rock for a tasting. Not for me I'm afraid. Still too harsh. I think my face says it all! (I did buy some rapadura, though, to sweeten the pill.).

The next day, full of breakfast and coffee I set off on the Trindade Tour.

Disappointingly, as the sun was peeking out and you need to grab it when you can, we were in a coach. Also, disappointingly, my tour operator (agin) didn't speak great english - which meant I have absolutely no idea what beaches I visited. though I can hazard a guess!

The first beach was the very reason that if (ha - when!) I return I'd plan my own trip an advise you to do the same. I could've stayed here for hours, not just half an hour. I was cursing the air-conditioned coach this time around. Typical, eh?! Pretty much deserted and utterly, utterly beautiful.

We then went to a busier beach and I had a good old wander, climbing rocks and perving at hot brazilian men (yes, as my 'covert' photo shows they do really all look like that, and pose like that)

front of beach

back of beach... lush amazonian rainforest

We started our hour long trek through the rainforest to the Natural Pool Caixadaço, just as it started chucking it down! Hair-raising doesn't even cover it. Barefoot, mud squishing through my toes, slipping and sliding down a narrow trails with vertical drops of over 200m and nothing to hold onto but fronds together with the heady scent (for scent read disgusting vile stench) of rotting jack fruit. No wonder people gasp with awe when they finally arrive tat the pool, they're just thankful they're alive. (Not the BRazilian kids though, naturally they sprinted, sniggering, past us like little gazelles.

start of the trek that took over an hour!!

rock shaped like a mouse just in the distance!

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite as natural and stunning as it would've been had the rain not churned up the mud. It was still lovely though. A change from the choppy seas of Ipanema and a chance to swim and snorkel looking at the fish and coral. Hungry little fish too - if you stand around long enough they give you a proper little pedicure. After a swim we got a boat taxi back for food, we were ravenous.

queue for the boat taxi in the Natural Pool

Until we got to the (one again) pricey an not great restaurant. Orders got mixed up, service was shoddy and the food not that great. Although there was a lot of it!!!

best bit of the restaurant was the sharks head on the counter

To be fair, though, I can't complain. Both tours were roughly 8 hours long, with a tour guide and transportation to and from the door to your Pousada/hotel/whatever and only cost R$110 (approx £40) and as I mentioned before, I was time-poor and travelling solo so it worked for me.

And it was awesome. BUT even more awesome was my last night... of which culinary amazingness you will read all about in my next post!

I leave you with my pathetic attempt at swing jumping into the waterfall.

my second attempt was MUCH better
but unfortunately not captured.

Natch...

REVEILLON (NEW YEAR) 2011 CABO FRIO, BRAZIL

2011-01-29T15:29:00.003Z

"FELIZ ANO NOVO"

How is it that I can count on the fingers of one hand - okay, actually, one finger - the New Year's Eve(s) I've actually enjoyed?? Is it the high expectations, the dashed hopes?

A night in a sweaty grimy pub, rubbing shoulders with sweaty drunken eejits; the type of people that only come out one night of the year to imbibe as much and as high a proof as possible, cause as much havoc as they can. Who then inevitably end the night puking or passed out on the streets, or worse spewing bile and alcohol induced violence in response to imagined paranoid slights?

2010 was, quite frankly, annus horribilis; utterly weary of woes I decided I would invite myself out to Brazil for New Year with my brother, his wife and her family.

Sad goodbyes to pops at the airport gave way to butterflies in the tummy as we entered the plane and embarked on the 15 hour journey. Which actually didn't start out too badly, I'd cannily bagged myself two of my own seats which I immediately set about nesting into a comfy bed. Film and Food done and ith hours to kill I got ready for sleep. Cue baby crying. For a whole 15 hours. Seriously.

Not one person on that plane got any sleep. We walked out haggard in Sao Paulo. Blinking against the brightness - completely destroyed and zombie-like.

Then, unexpectedly, I was alone. Unexpectedly my brother and his wife's connection being at a diferent airport and my connection at Sao Paul being six hours I sudenly got the fear. Realising that of the many, many hours I'd put into research the flights, the accommodation, the exciting bits I had barely adequately learned any Brazilian Portuguese. And I'd forgotten to get currency. EEEEEK. Schoolgirl error.

So, of course, there being 6 hours for me to kill - alone, with no currency (great organisational skills), and armed with only the most basic of portuguese: a broken "sorry I don't speak portuguese, do you speak english" (desculpe, não falo português fala inglês?) which became the most overused phrase during my travels - my iPhone did the wheel of death and died and my computer followed suit.

I am not ashamed to say that I did shed a tear. Quite a few actually.

Berating myself for embarking on some madcap, spontaneous escape to an alien country which I thought I had researched to within an inch of it's life but clearly hadn't. Nevertheless, despite the language barrier, the Carioca's are stupendously friendly and persistent so I managed to find where I needed to catch my onnecting flight, pulled myself together and arrived in Rio where after being told 3 times that the coach I needed to catch didn't exist, I caught 3 hours later after a LOT of sign language and laughter (at me, not with me I might add).

Top Tip: Be aware that you can't buy any tickets online unless you have a Brazilian identity number (CPT) and that any fare for Brazilians will be hiked up for tourists - in this case by double.

Not that I'm moaning mind you, their coaches are luxury travel compared to us Brits: air-conditioned, massive and their seats recline right back. I lucked out again as it was pretty empty and I had my choice of seats so I could check out my first sight of Rio: an urban sprawl set against the backdrop of breathtaking mountainous landscape.

The journey should have taken only 2 hours - maybe 3 max, but because it was the summer holidays and Cabo Frio is a holiday destination is took us 6 hours. Yes, 6 hours. I arrived in Cabo Frio, tired, bedraggled and the confronted with another problem. The driver had never heard of my B&B.

Booked through Booking.com who are normally brilliant, it turned out that this Pusada claimng to be in the centre of Cabo Frio was almost 10km outside it. Cue waterworks again. A total freakout. Lots of phone calls to the UK, me threatening to get on the first flight back to the UK and finally my brother calming me by saying he would be arriving at midnight (not the next day as planned) and just to find a hotel on the seafront. Which I did. Me and my suitcase rocked up at some unknown hotel and I was saved by a lovely journalist who took pity on my tearstained face and luckily spoke english. By the time the in-laws arrived I had calmed a bit and by the time we'd driven to their apartment which was right on the beachfront and settled me in the spare room I'd calmed down a lot.

This was my first morning glimpse of sunny Cabo:

Cabo Frio is a Rio family holiday resort about 10 minutes from Armação dos Búzios - a younger more party-led resort.It has beautiful beaches, and if you can bear to tear yourself away from the sand and sea, main attractions such as Fort Sao Mateus, the Nossa Senhora da Guia chapel and the museum of oceanography.

A beautiful first sunny day was spent touring the streets, and the restaurants, checking out the self-service ice-cream store in the arcade - a hundred ice-cream flavours with a hundred more toppings of every imaginable sweet and sauce and fruit and Bob's Burgers a take on McDonalds but a squillion more pounds than in the UK. Their Ovaltine shake is to die for though!!!

On the beach itself - of white white sands and clear waters with waves perfect for boarding, or if you're me, just jumping - we were set up wth parasols and chairs and just relaxed. Vendors walking around selling kangas (no one had a towel to the beach, typical gringo faux pas!), bikinis, food of every imaginable kind. We downed oysters, drank Guaraná Antarctica and ate frozen Açaí with granola and mel (honey).

For one day anyway - it's not called the rainy season for nothing and after that ONE beautiful day the rain was never-ending and torrential. A surprise even to Raquel's family who say it normally rians a couple of days then clears. We weren't so lucky.

All the more time to indulge in my Carioca family's favourite pastimes though: watching soaps (prolific and storylines/shows only last six months so you don't get tired of them - Eastenders take note!), and chatting. I say chatting, by chatting I mean everyone talking at (not with) each other as loudly as they possibly can for as long as they can - until about three in the morning. Unbelievably busy, energetic and fun.

And cooking of course. Eating copiously and often we'd start with a breakfast of romeo and juliet: goiabada, a guava paste, served with cheese:

And Brigadeiro, a sticky sweet cinnamon type bread; soaked in condensed milk, eggs, sugar and cinnamon then baked. All served with hot hot thick black coffee.

As soon as we'd finished breakfast, Raquel's mum and aunties would start on lunch and at the end of lunch dinner.. at the end of dinner it would be onto the desserts. Boy, do they love their desserts. By the end of my stay I would swear I'd put on at least a stone!!

We mostly ate for lunch arroz (white rice), black beans, farofa (toasted manoic flour) with fried steak, a take on the Brazilian national dish of Feijoada, below is a recipe which is by no means standard so have a google and see what you prefer :

1 pound of black beans

1 pound of smoked sausage/ham hock

1 pound of dry meat or 1/2 pound of bacon

4 pork shoulder bones and ears

2 small onions

2 garlic cloves

2 large bay leaves

2 cups of beef stock

olive oil

salt and fresh pepper

very hot pepper sauce (optional, I love speice but surprisingly few Brazilians seem to)

1. Wash beans well and then leave them soaking in a litre of water overnight. The

next day, cook the beans and water on low heat for about an hour with the beef stock.

2. While the beans are cooking, cut the meats into bite size chunks, put them all in a pan, cover them with water and boil for about ten minutes.
3.Chop the onions and the garlic finely and mix in herbs and spices of your choice. Heat oil in a frying pan and fry the onion mixture until it caramelizes. Add a ladle full of beans (which at this point should be soft) and mash it together with the fried onion mixtureadd thebay leaves and leave to fry for a few minutes. Pour everything back into the beans.
4. Put the strained meats into the beans and add a cup of water. Stir. Add salt and hot pepper sauce to taste.

For dessert we had a typical Cuscuz branco, a tapioca pudding cooked in coconut milk with sugar, absolutely delicious.

And then suddenly it was New Year's Eve.

Roberto cooked up a turkey the ladies cooked up salads of beans and egg, arroz and farofa...

We all toasted each other before heading to the beach for the New Year's fireworks. What a sight. This definitely wasn't London.

The streets were packed with people dressed in white and clutching flowers in readiness for tossing to Iemanja the godess of the sea to say thanks for the past years joys and make wishes for the new year. After a mooch around the market, a top off at the churros stand for sweet floury chocolate covered donut yumminess, followed up by more waits-expanding savoury popcorn (sprinkeld with chese and bacon - YUM!). We staked our claim in the crowds on the beach just in time for midnight. At the stroke of 12 there was a symphony of sound, hugs all round then we stood and gasped at the beautiful fireworks display before samba-ing (them, not me!) down the streets following the carnival float booming out Brazilian pop music, ending up back at the apartment chattering at each other till past dawn.

A magical, magical perfect new year!!!!!! I honestly couldn't have wished for anything better.

If you're thinking of visiting Cabo Frio or Búzios then see below for tips/links:

I flew with TAM Airlines (friendly service, comfy seat, food okay) booked through Netflights (fantastic, quick, efficient, friendly, customer service when I needed to extend my stay!)

I stayed in an apartment with my siste-in-law's family, which I'd definitely advise is a more reasonable option than a hotel, but if you're going for new year book up quickly! Otherwise check out Lonely Planet, Tripadvisor, or Virtual Tourist for honest traveller reviews (I picked the #1 of every place I stayed and it worked out perfectly or me), then book the best option for you on either Booking.com or Travelrepublic.

And lastly, this site contains a wealth of information on where to eat, where to stay and what to do(if, indded, you actually need telling what to do when you're in paradise).

Next up... my arrival in Rio!

CHRISTMUKKAH WITH THE KEEVILLS

2010-12-26T13:37:00.002Z

A Festivus for the rest of us...

I think Christmas day is much maligned!

With people bah humbugging that they 'have' to spnd time with their families and 'have' to spend lots of money on presents. Well, no one's forcing you to spend money; you could make pressies, as the unmployed Russian did for my family (who were, incidentally, utterly charmed and delighted!) Nor is anyone 'forcing' you to spnd time with yor ma, pa, siblings, granpops etc... BUT imagine how much worse it would be if you didn't have ny family to irritate the buggery out of you over this super-special weekend.

"Yeah, yeah" you're thinking, and any other time I would be the same. Last year I rebelliously spent it Home Alone dressed in only my PJs cosied up on the sofa and flicking joyously through the listings on the telly and eating breakfast at 3pm JUST BECAUSE I COULD.

But this year, thanks to snow and swine flu and tedious travel chaos I wasn't able to see my mum, dad, brothers, their lovely other halves and my beautiful, beautiful baby nephew. Not so joyous now. And I miss them more than anyone can possibly imagine. Inevitably, I spent the last few days in floods of tears. A deluge wellng at the first sign of anything remotely soppy appearing on the telly!

Thank goodness then for my Lovely London Family (LLF) stepping into the breach and soldiering the burden that is me for chrimble day.

And what a brilliant brilliant day it was.

Obviously there were the pressies: my absolutely favourite of which were my jingle jangle slip slops (which frightened the life out of the cats when I got home.. double Brucey bonus!)

Then we decamped to the pub for last orders of hot cider with a shot of Sailor Jerry rum. YUM.

Back to the house for some serious cooking. Not for smug little me though. Learning from the horror that was Corrigan's poached chicken and dumplings (LLF sitting down at 10pm to a plate 'filled' with only 3 slices of warm chicken with a drizzle of salsa verde) I prepped everything on Christmas eve, everything being:

Roast Potatoes

5kg (yes, really, we are a family that likes our food!) King Edwards

Goose fat

Rosemary

Thyme

Garlic

1. It's a bit obvious this isn't it? Boil the potatoes (with a few cloves of garlic, if you like) for about 15 minutes or until just softening

2. Drain & sit with a tea towel draped over for a few mins (I don't know why, Jamie said to do it and it works!) put back in saucepan with couple of tablespoons of goosefat and salt and bash about

3. Pop in roasting dish (I used Bacofoil roasting 'thingies' - yup, that is the 'official' name for the ahem - less washing up, innit *smug*) with the rosemary & thyme & a few more cloves of garlic (I used two bulbs, but we like garlic!)and more goose fat

4. Bake in the oven for about an hour at 220 degrees centigrade, shaking about a bit every so often*

(Heston's) Vodka, Orange & Cranberry Sauce

(Thanks Waitrose)

300g fresh cranberries

75g of white sugar (should really be fruit sugar but I didn't have any and it turned out fine!)

2 Oranges, grated zest of one and juice of two

1 tbsp vodka

1. Put the cranberries in small pan with the ugar, zest, juice and vodka, stir (natch!)

2. Heat over medium heat bringing to a simmer then cook gently for 10 minutes

3. Set aside to cool, then serve*

Bread Sauce

Bread crumbs (lots, I didn't weigh but about half a Waitrose tiger loaf was enough for me)

Small onion, peeled

Cloves

Bay leaf

White peppercorns

Nutmeg, freshly grated is better

30g unsalted butter

2 tbsp cream

1. Crumb the bread

2. Stud the onion with 7/8 cloves and put in a small saucepan with the milk, bayleaf, peppecorns and nutmeg

3. Warm the milk (not boil) thn take off heat and leave to infuse for about half an hour

4. Strain the milk then return to heat and bung in breadcrumbs, butter and cream and stir for about 5 minutes

5. Serve*

Brussel sprouts with Chestnuts & Lardons

Brussell Sprouts (how many depends how much you like them, naturally my family love them, so loads!)

Pack of unsmoked lardons

Pack/tin of ready cooked chestnuts

Butter

1. Prep the Brussells (BORING!!!! so see if you can get yourself a soux chef)

2.Boil in plenty of salted water

3. Fry the lardons & chestnuts together

3. When tender but with crunch pop put into the pan with the lardons & chestnuts and butter and cook for about 5 minutes

4. Serve*

Horseradish Yorkshire Puddings

(This recipe is for four/five so double up for more!)

75g plain flour

2 medium eggs

125ml milk

2 tbsp horseradish

1. Whip main ingredients together then add horseradish and stir well

2. Leave in fridge for an hour (or overnight like me)

3. Drizzle a teaspoon of oil into each dip in a muffin tray & heat in oven at 220 degrees centigrade

4. When smoking, poour in the batter and bake for 20 minutes or until risen & golden!

*or pop in fridge ready to cook the next day like I did!

Cauliflower cheese was done by the lovely Jo and for dessert was the most amazing cheesecake (not baked by me, sadly, but I will get the recipe as it was astonishingly good!). And the YUMMY beef (the biggest cut of meat I've ever seen in my whole life - almost the size of me).

So really all that was to be done was to bung the beef in the oven and all of us set different timers on our iphones for the various bits and bobs to be bunged in the oven to be reheated. Pretty pefect actually. The Power of prep!!!!!

Giving us more time to drink wine and play f*ckface. A game that Aunt and Uncle just could not get the hang of: either dropping hefty hints or, as was the case with Sid Vicious, insisting people were alive when they were dead and vice versa. Giving up on that we entered into a VERY noisy game of charades which, after drunken offerings veering between obscure french cinema or half forgotten song lyrics rather than titles, was again disbanded in favour of listening to Derrick & Clive and screaming "You f***ing c**t" across the table at each other.

Your standard Christmas fare, yes?

SO. MUCH. FUN!!!!!!!

However you spend Christmukkah, as long as it's with family (no matter how grating they can be), it's all the more special because they're really truly what life's about.

I know, I know, *snore*, right?

BUT when anything else may crumble or fall in your world: when you lose the love of your life, or you lose your job, or whatever misfortune may befall you, you know that you have your mum to hug you, your dad to man you up and your family to tell you how utterly wonderful and brilliant you are.

And you are pretty wonderful, all of you. And, no, that's not the Baileys in my coffee talking, though I do have a Baileys in my coffee for breakfast (if I can't do it at Christmas when can I for goodness sake??). It's just that I think , in the ratrace of life and with the utterly crap year that was 2010, we are so busy fixing things or doing things for other people or just working our arses off to pay the rent that we forget to tell urselves how fabulous we are and what a bloody good job we're doing/have done.

So give yourself a pat on the back for getting through 2010 and here's to the spankingly gorgeous new year that is ZOLL (ladies, I hope you're reading this) - I can feel in my bones this is going to be a great year.

The next time you hear from me will be from Brazil.

Until then, I'll leave you to commiserate with Frank Costanza...

MINCING AROUND

2010-12-23T12:05:00.000Z

I thought Waitrose was the last bastion of the middle classes. Always a pleasure , never a chore.

Christmas, however, seems to turn people into animals. Animals I tells yer!

I'd rather smugly done all my gift shopping but there was one last hurdle: shopping for my part in Christmas dins (London family do the, and dare I say the EASY PART, meat; I do the rest).

It was the 22nd December, a normal day. Not even Christmas Eve. But it was more alike a battlefield. Even the carol singers couldn't drown out the wailing war cries of discombobulated women, harried men and agitated children.

Armed with my trusty trolley, I ventured into the crowed and immediately got boxed into the vegetable section. There was no way out, I was literally cornered by the herbs for about 10 frustrating minutes, before I took my life into my own hands and bumped a flummoxed chap, who was just ambling about aimlessly (EEJIT!!!), out of the way. Poor guy. Poor me. Karma kicked in as I immediately got pummelled with baskets and elbows and death-stares.

The panic is infectious. I found myself losing all sense of proportion and reason and doing away with my list altogether. Never do away with the list! Dangerous stuff in Waitrose. You need to know excatly what you're going in for; stray off the path and you're looking at a gazillion pounds worth of unuseable odds and ends. I've literally gone into Waitrose after a hard day at work, mindlessly picking things up, and walked away from the till £50 lighter but with absolutely nothing that could constitute an actual meal.

I digress, I did pretty well: sprouts-check, cranberries-check, kilos of tatties-check, bottle of Baileys to get me through the horror of food prep-check.

Then as I was in the mammoth queue, it stretched all the way down Holloway Road, down Seven Sisters and into Finsbury Park - no word of a lie (honest, guv) - some tedious little turnip decided that he was special (he was indeed, a 'special' case) and that the usual rules didn't apply - subverting the rules by trying to push his trolley through the barricade. Oh noooooo, no no no no. The rage welled up in me. And I heard a snippy little voice from my own mouth say "That's cordon is there for a reason". Gah, how embarrassing, any remote teeny tiny bit of punk or cool still in me evaporated in that very moment. And what was his response? Sorry? Nope, course not: "No need to get all funny about it love". Funny? "Funny"???? "LOVE"?????? No, sorry, I fail to see anything 'funny' about being beaten to within an inch of my life with trolleys and a ten minute shop taking me forty-five minutes - navigating trolleys and baskets of death, then queuing patiently for 20 minutes only to have some sod like you airily ignore the rules and push in front. AND DON'T CALL ME LOVE!

I AM SHE-RA HEAR ME ROAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR.

Only in a supermarket, a coupe of days before Christmas can such unbridled anger be understood and forgiven. In a show of camaraderie my fellow queuees (do you think any of my 'new' words will make it into the next edition of the Oxford dictionary?) appeared to feel exactly the same: exchanging knowing looks and disgusted tuts of the sort only normally seen when you have a stenchy lunatic on the tube. Utterly British of course.

So by the time I managed to escape and lug all my stuff home I really wasn't in the mood for cooking, or anything actually, but I was in need of a Baileys and something sweet (to eat, I'm fully aware that Baileys can rot teeth at 20 paces). So here's my cheat for lovely jubbly mince pies:

Mince Pies

Jus-roll puff pastry

Jar of mincemeat

Bottle of this delicious stuff

Egg

Sugar

1. Unwrap the pastry

2. Use cake cutter, or if you have specacular art skills - free draw, a few circles

3. Pop the bottom circles of pastry in a cake tray

4. Fill with mincemeat and drizzle with yummy cider brandy liquid heaven

5. Pop pastry lid on, brush with egg, sprinkle with sugar

6. Bake in oven at about 180 degrees centigrade for about 20 minutes

Ta daaaaaaa!

Baileys, mince pies. Done.

I leave you with another Armstrong & Miller

I don't think I need to say anything more...

HOW TO DISAPPEAR

2010-12-15T10:59:00.002Z

It's probably been a couple of decades since I've got out of bed after midday on a weekday, then sat watching telly in my PJs till it got dark. Just about the most self-indulgent thing EVER. Knowing everyone's at work & I should be doing something constructive with my day...but not! Irresponsible? Possibly. But, you know what, it's not often in life you get a chance to disappear for a while, rest, recharge and start over.

These next two months are my christmas gift tomyself of pure unadulterated JOY.

Can it really get better than disappearing off to Latin America for a month? New Year on a white sandy beach, cooking classes in Rio followed by lessons in survival in the Amazon, rounded off with beach bumming & surfing in the Beverley Hills of Brazil. For me this is just about the most exciting thing EVER!!!!!! More so because I never ever thought I'd be the age I am now and acting like a teenager all over again.

I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!

I don't know whether it's my imagination but I'd swear that the two deepening stress wrinkles on my forehead have disappeared - forget creme de la mer, get yourself some redundancy and a fresh-start as your anti-aging remedy. I'm really starting to believe what everyone told me: "This could be the best thing that ever happened to you". Right now it really feels like it!

I'm certainly not going to miss the misery that is the month of January. When everyone's poor of pocket but rich in regrets! Forget abstaining, no such self-flagellation for me; if you're going to party hard then be proud of your hard-won achievements! Then again, don't let that achievement be you collapsing comatose on a public street and vomiting in the back of a taxi or worse over your friends - or even worse over a to-be - boy/girlfriend. Know your limits people, drink & dance with dignity.

This is but a brief respite and such is it's briefness that I intend to embrace it fully and live to the limits! For when I get back it'll nose to the grindstone; working hard and working clever! Still bloody exciting times though!!

In the meantime, I'm busy desperately trying to tone up the belly and bum in time to at least not feel like some 20 stone heifer beside the bevy of Brazilian beachbabes. Time to put the setting of Just Dance onto super sweaty!!!!! Waving to the nighburs as I jiggle away in front of the mirror. Well, best intentions and all that... in all honesty, the Wii's been on less times than I can count the fingers on one hand. And even then it's mostly to caterwaul Kasabian. Why haven't they put Jolene on Wii sing yet? Missing a trick there, Nintendo.

For all the excitement and all the fun ahead I am kinda (only kinda mind you!) sad I'll be missing out on some stuff. You know, midnight NYE kisses & hugs with all my friends and loved ones around me, attempting to hail a taxi in the freezing early hours and giving up and gatecrashing any local party we can find with a bag of chavtastic tenants beer. I'll definitely miss my kitty-kats and my family and the new addition to the family; oh, and perhaps but only perhaps the Russian.

I doubt anyone will miss me, not with so much to occupy you all! If I wasn't heading to sunnier climes then I know that my pick of all that NYE in London has to offer would be The Disappearing Dining Club! Have you seen the menu?

I was fearful of my blog being somewhat repetitive as I've only just reviewed the Disappearing Dining Room in October. But this is a somewhat different kettle of fish: a roving dinner/dance at a secret /new destination each month, rather than the static dining room which is perfect for friends/family/private parties.

I think both are genius, but they're different animals. The club is exactly the sort of thing I LOVE, Secret squirrel destinations and meeting random people over great food & wine.

After wandering up and down a cobbled street - me in heels, wailing "are we there yet" - we finally found the tucked away Red Gallery in Shoreditch and tripped (not literally, though in my heels that was some achievement!) down some unnappealing concrete steps into a massive room with long trestled tables set with tea lights, crisp linens and retro tableware. The menu was just as exquisite as last time:

Smoked Eel & Beetroot Jenga
Horseradish & Chives

Jerusalem Artichoke Velouté
Foie Gras & Loupiac Jelly

Braised Lamb Neck
Hereford Snails, Forest Mushrooms, Toasted Garlic & Celeriac

Kid's Playground
Peanut Butter Parfait, Homemade Ribena, Snap Crackle

I don't ordinarily like eel, a sentiment shared by our neighbours, but this tasted more like meaty mackerel. Delicious. Both my dinner-mates were squeamish about the snails but in the end didn't even notice them. As usual Maxine the chef did an absolutely amazing job. And the dessert really was the pièce de résistance, a true taste of childhood. The crowd were super friendly, as you'd expect from this type of event; and the music suited the mood perfectly - the ladies at table 8 were swooning and I can't honestly blame them, this chap is a star in the making.

I wish I could show you a photo of the exquisite dishes but, surprisingly after all I'd eaten & drunk in the last few days, it was wolfed down in SECONDS!

If you're not on on a beach thousands of miles from London then there's no excuse whasoever not to be there!!!!

After food, what better way to end your night than dancing your socks off into the daylight hours? The pick of the parties for me (were I staying) is the Barfly, mostly because the hotness that is Man Like Me will be a-mingling and a-jingling (get your mistletoe ready, ladies!). Oh, and The Russian will be djing (put that mistletoe AWAY girls).

So go dance your socks off, have ridiculous amounts of fun, and let your liver take a break in January, so you'll have your drinking hat on and lots of sories to tell me on my return to The Big Smoke in February!

Keep checking the blog for the carnage that will be me attempting to cook Christmas dinner for the masses (least said about the Corrigan poached chicken failure the better, ta v. much LLF!) and, of course, for tall tales on my adventures in Brazzzzillllllll!!

I leave you with happiest chap in the world...

...the happiest laydeee being ME!!

THE DEVIL MAKES WORK FOR IDLE HANDS

2010-12-13T15:59:00.001Z

Doesn't he just!

I know I have far too much time on my hands when my foursquare (still haven't got a clue what or why, frankly!) shows at least two check-ins to Ikea and Mayorship of Waitrose.

A friend said the other day, as I was admiring her Ikea cushions and berating myself for umming and ahhing over them in the store before putting them back especially as they looked so plush on her sofa...where was I? Oh yeah... that it's impossible to leave Ikea without spending over £80. £80? Ummmmm yes, well, I will sheepishly admit I managed to spend somewhat more than that. But at least I can boast that the flat is looking it's spankiest newest best since we moved in. And I guess I'm nesting as I'm spending so much time here. It does feel homelier though, I say.. sorry, type.. as I sit here in my new fluffy Ikea dressing gown, cuddled up to my new Ikea cushions, sipping champagne (okay, prosecco) and Chambord out of my new Ikea flutes.

How better to test out my new Ikea plates and Ikea cutlery all on my new Ikea trays (so the Russian doesn't ruin the new Ikea throws) than to cook up a yummy, simple supper - it's tiring shopping you know!!!!

Chicken with Honey & Potatoes

Chicken thighs (or drumsticks or a mixture of the two)

Honey (I used agave nectar because my super expensive French honey wasn't drizzly enough)

Bay leaf

Lemon thyme (or just normal thyme is fine)

Oregano

Rosemary

New potatoes (I used Rosevale because they were on offer at Waitrose)

White wine (equal to a small glass)

Garlic

Tomatoes

Butter

1. Pop some thyme and rosemary in the bottom of an ovenproof dish

2. Oil & season your chicken and pop on top of the rosemary and thyme & drizzle with honey

3. Fit the potatoes & garlic gloves (skin on) around and the chery tomatoes on top of the chicken

4. Chuck over some chopped oregano and more sprigs of rosemary and thyme

4. Pour the wine over and nestle chunks of butter on the chicken & potatoes

5. Pop in the oven at around 180 degres centigrade and leave for about 40-50 minutes

6. Check every 20 mins or so to make sure not to dry, if the skin looks like it's burning then add more butter/baste & cover with some baking paper so it steams more

I served this with honey glazed carrots and a very chilled glass of my favourite Surrey Gold.

Now, what am I going to do with that £10 voucher Ikea gave me... gutted I'm going to miss their January sale. Hmmm....

While I have a ponder...

& no doubt rack up debts worthy of a small country on their catalogue...

I leave you with my favourite ad of the year!

JIN KICHI

2010-12-07T13:24:00.002Z

73 Heath Street

Hampstead

NW3 6UG

020 7794 6158

http://www.jinkichi.com/

So it was, at 10am on a Saturday the morning after the night before, I woke bitterly regretting drinking champagne and singing Wii Sing Encore till 5am (yes, really, and let us not forget this little number... my neighbours certainly won't!) after a night of high fun and hijinks. This, despite knowing that I had to go Chrimble shopping the next day with LLF.

I bundled myself up in my fur hooded puffa jacket more Michelin Tyre Man that Michelin star girl and turned up shivering and feeling ather sorry for myself on their doorstep.

Sympathy hugs, a cup of tea and half an hour later I felt semi-human, so The Godfather suggested we go for sushi. Brilliant idea as the titbit of seabass cerviche I'd had the night before had started a craving for all things raw and fish!

We walked up the MAMMOTH hill (honestly, it felt like scaling the himalayas in my state!) towards Heath Street, nipping into the most amazing litle Scandinavian store, Lulu Bright on the way (you MUST check it out, they're possibly only going to be there for a month!) and passing by the Hampstead Butcher & Providore to order Christmas meats (I CANNOT WAIT FOR CHRISTMAS DINNER...WHOOOOOOOOOP) until, finally, short of breath (only me, Gorgeous Godmother runs marathons, yes, marathons the morning after the night before!!!) we arrived at our destination. A small, unassuming, but rammed to the rafters restaurant called Jin Kichi.

Wihout having already had a heads up on how special this place was, it wouldn't have been difficult to gauge from all the awards and recommendations pasted to the window, the point was further hammered home by the complete lack of space.

Thank goodness we'd phoned ahead for a reservation, as they squeezed us into a back corner where we sat gazing hungrily at the food passing from the open kitchen to customers tables. Staring to the poin of rudeness in fact, when we were caught out drooling over the food of the family sat behind us. Thankfully they were amused. Or at least were sufficiently 'Hampstead' to not show that they weren't.

I kept insisting that I could only eat teeny tiny morsels as I had a 5-course menu looming later that evening. But thankfully the Godfather, on experience, knew this to be tosh and brushed aside my frankly pathetic attempt at abstention.

GF and GM ordered the same as the table behind us: the Agedashi, a deep-fried tofu in a tempura sauce - beautifully cripsy outside giving way to a dreamy creamy texture inside the tofus and a lovely sweet sauce. Though, I didn't feel hard done by with my choice of Horensu Tamago: spinach an egg cooked in fish stock. Not just because it tasted beautiful, nor because it was so stonkingly healthy I could feel myself growing biceps and triceps a la Popeye; but because after a serious show of plate envy (he did tell me, and i wouldn't listen!) GF agreed to swap with my order halfway through!

Then came perfect, melt-in-the-mouth Sashimi.

And to wash this down, despite my, once again, rather empty protestations at hair of the dog, was the most delicious sake I've ever had. I've never had it chilled before: Miyako-Nishiki - served ice cold, in a wooden box with a pinch of salt. Wow. So wow, we had to have another one.

I tell you, that certainly warmed my cockles, just in time as we finished on a fresh as a daisy green tea ice cream! So much for saving myself for my gargantuan feast later, though I think we all know what a gannet I am and that frankly I'll be licking every plate clean!!!!

Jin Kichi is the hangover cure from heaven, but don't take my word for it, get ringing in and go try for yourself!

A perfectly lovely Saturday, with my perfectly lovely London family, with perfectly lovely food and then a not so perfectly lovely bash to my wallet when I visited the perfectly lovely good as new shop and spent an ungodly amount of the most perfectly lovely (and seriously Hollywood) Nicole Farhi fur coat. Suits you , Sir; indeed! I blame the Sake, frankly! (definitely nothing at all to do with my champagne tastes on a lemonade budgt!)

Now I just need to figure a way of making it necessary to take it to Brazil - do they have snow snaps in January?

With all that shopping I'm hungry & ready to feast my chops off!

I leave you with Armstrong & Miller...

A FLUID STATE

2010-12-05T13:49:00.002Z

I am a big fan of the lovely guys behind the annual A Fluid State, it's just a shame that every single one of their Tasting Sessions in the last year has conflicted with some big happening (one such being the birth of my nephew...so to be fair I'm not making any light excuses!) - so I was super-excited at the return of this 3 day event that had been so much fun last year! And even more excited that my ticket was courtesy of the equally wonderful people at Yelp (thanks everso guys!)

The secret squirrel venue was given away on confirmation of our chosen 'experience' which was (of course) the tequila fuelled "The Reconciliation". Other experience available were: Garden of Eden, The Twilight Hours, Fantasy Island and The Palm, Upper East Side.

Poor Eve was freezing her little socks out waiting for me outside the venue on Moorgate a tardy as ever, eek!), so the mudled blackberry and lime cocktail with a hefty slosh of King's Ginger was a warm welcome indeed.

Drink drunk, belongings stashed and with a little trepidation we made our way round the 'experiences'.

First up was the Garden Of Eden, and I squeaked in glee at the boiled sweet & chocolate forbidden tree. After a cuddle with the snake Benny who seemed to want to nest in my hair (awwwwwww!) I was snafled a chocolatey treat from the tree that tasted just like a malteser: crunchy outside and powdery light as air inside. The treats didn't stop there. First up was an acai berry concoction called a Bourbon Cherry Bomb with a little tiny choolate gnache on the side by Damian Allsop - it tasted like blackforest gateau and was absolutely divine!!! Next up was the Ocho Blanco Tequila Cactus smoothie - a strangely sour but not unpleasant drink then the finale - a Wheatgrass Sorbet & King's Ginger Liquer. I know. I know exactly what you're thinking here because I was too.Yuck! Right? I was kicking myself for not having the chocolate one first, BUT and it's no word of a lie, honest, guv, it was absolutely delicious. A bit odd, yes, but the sorbet was so refreshing, the liquer warming and then half way through tasting each on their own we combined to make a cocktail. YUM!!! And then we were warmed up all over again by a lovely goji berry (hmm) soup from Crussh.

If this was how the Fluid State kicks off then we were in for one hell of a night!!

Already feeling a teensy bit tiddly - noticing too late the admonishment on our tickets ""The focus is on tasing, Please don't feel you have to finish each drink" (yerright, who are they fooling?!) - we drew back a heavy black curtain to enter into a bright golden Fantasy Island. The cocktail of choice here was take on a retro Pina Colada by Purl and the nibbles were dragon's breath popcorn - treated with nitrogen so that when you crunched the cold morsels you could see your own breath; a packet of Pink Pigeon Rum & Pineapple Crisps which looked too pretty to open so I haven't tried them and sadly I couldn't see any sign of the the sweet and sour pork cotton candy all by Fluid Movement.

Onwards it was to The Twilight Hours, no Edward Cullen sadly, but four monks who absolved our sins with a wonderful 2004 Loui Roederer vintage champagne (which of course I spilled, of course, tut!) and a hefty and much-needed game stew by Ollie Dabbous washed down with Meantime London Porter. Much entertained and enlightened we left our pilgrimage and headed for Mad Men territory in The Palm, Upper Eat Side.

I loved the room, and wanted to steal at least two sets of chairs and the bureau with the turntable built in, somehow I think the security might notice though. Immediately we were set upon by predatory, slickhaired sleazeballs, shcmoozing us with malt whiskies while in the background jazz was layed by the BBC award-winning Tom Cawley and Ronnie Scott's James Pearson. I wish I wish I wish I could understand or even like improv jazz,but I just don't, so we rather irreverently chucked back out whiskies an hotfooted it over to our final destination - and the one we'd been looking forward to the most - The Reconciliation.

My journey with tequila has been a strange one. In my drinking heydays (ahem) I would down tequila like water, it actually used to be a tool to sober me up after one too many beers. I know, AA here I come! Then like any first love, the relationship turned a bit sour. I couldn't even smell the stuff without my tummy turning. Revolting.

Then (now, in fact), strangely, my affection returned. And I have to say, I was not disappointed -this was my favourite experience of all!Well, actually let's get the one and only gripe out ofthe way. It wasjust before 9pm when we reached our final destination - saved for last because it was our favourite (both pleasure delayers it seems!). But our attempt at delayed gratification backfired somewhat, as we arrived to the much-ancitipated Mezcal Monkey Tattoo Parlour we were told (tersey, rudely actually - just because you're in character doesn't mean you can get lippy, Madam) that the girl finished at 9pm and her current client was the lat one. Super super sad face.And a bit conusing as we'd had no heads up of this time limit - especially as the venu was open till midnight. Very disappointed.

Groan and mild disppointment over and done with and against a backdrop of convicts & cops, we dug into a Herradura Reposada that perfectly matched the seabass cevice by Tsuru. We then paired Ocho Blanco tequila with a chilli coriander and lime scotch egg by Eat My Pies - super tasty and done perfectly so that the yolk was gooily (is this even a word? it is now!) just set. This was followed up with a delicious Herradura Anejo with another of Damien Allsop's chocolat creations which was utterly utterly divine. I could've eatn a whole box right there and then.

Our final treat of the evening, courtesy of wonderful hosts Hayley Sudbury and Angella Newell, was a pretty amazing Herradura Seleccion Suprema Tequila. No exaggeration to describe this rare, finest estate agave produced nectar as liquid gold. So, if you have a spare £200 lying about then I urge you to treat yourself!!

Utterly sated and having had an absolutely wonderful night, I then ruined it all by heading to the newly opened (an currenlty being refurbished) Wheelbarrow in Camden, from the guys behind The Flowerpot you can bank on this place having queues round the corner every single night.

I ended up home, smashed and singing (if you can call it that!) Total Eclipse of the Heart to myself at 4am. Lucky neighbours, eh?!

All in all this was a Friday Night WIN of epic proportions. And even lovelier was the parting goodbye from Eve when she said "I just realised, now we don't work together we real friends in the real world."

Good friends, good food, good booze and good times. Life really doens't get much better than that does it?!

And so on a happy, albeit hungover, high I leave you with

a fair representation of my 'effort' at singing...

A CASSEROLE OF NONSENSE

2010-11-30T16:28:00.000Z

Is how one of my friends described feeling after a particularly heavy and late (or early depending on how you look at it) night (morning?!) out!

I couldn't have put it better myself.

I was feeling particularly dicey after a super smashing (emphasis on 'smashed') night out with my fairy godfather/mother (uncle & aunt actually, henceforth know FGF/FGM) and friends.

First stop, after signing my life away (my working life at least), was the most salubrious Coronet on Holloway Road. No sniggering please, there's something quite comforting about a pub full of regulars (albeit clearly alcoholic regulars before midday!), and their pitta bread and dip platter was suprisingly tasty. As was my Jeremiah Weed sweet tea liqueur, unfortunately sans the advertised jam-jar glass (the reason for ordering it) as (quelle suprise) they had all been pilfered!

With the Russian wittering on about how much work he had on (go on rub it in!), I was sadly contemplating an afternoon on the sofa with Friends. Even more sadly, these 'friends' being the telly ones, not real ones. When, out of the blue, I got a call from aforesaid FGF saying he was in town and did I want lunch? Did I want lunch? What sort of daft question is that?!

I hotfooted it to Covent Garden and after minimial arm-twisting managed to convince FGF that we should go to Hawksmoor and get me squiffy and fill up on MEAT. Thanks so much to the LOVELY peeps at Hawksmoor: despite me rudely just walking in the door and expecting a table (don't you know who I am...ahem!) they came up trumps and squeezed (or as the Russian puts it 'squoze') us in.

This post could easily turn into Hawksmoor: The Sequel but I'll keep it brief and just say that my 300g of juicy fillet was meaty heaven made more sublime by smearing great globs of marrow all over it. FGFs cutlets were as meltingly delish as last time too. And FGF, a hard man to please, was won over by the surroundings, the super service (think the prettiness of the staff helps considerably - for both of us... yum!) and the menu.

But I can't actually recall much more as we did achieve our goal of getting me as squiffy as poss! Think Sliding Doors but without me finding my boyfriend in bed with someone first. Oh, and I definitely didn't steal any champagne from work...Honest! Hmmmmmmm. Okay, let's not think of it like Sliding Doors...

...Anyway, a bloody mary, gin fizz, sherry cobbler, great bottle of red and Zombie (standard!) down, we wobbled up the stairs and over to the Hawley where my lovely sister(at heart, not in real life) and her friends were waiting, only to be joined by my FGM. Suffice to say we had a VERY jolly time, taking our boisterous noisiness to the Barfly for late night 'dancing' (at this point I don't think any movement I made could possibly be construed as actually dancing as we know it) with the Russian dropping the tunes.

The last I heard FGF and FGM were actually threatening to go to the Marathon Bar!

All in all this was the most perfect way to enter redundant life; surrounded by friends and family ensuring I knew exactly how not redundant I actually am.

Frankly, the next day I was good for nothing, so good for me that I had some packs of game casserole in the freezer to rustle up this one-pot wonder*:

Game Stew*

SORRY THERE'S NO PICTURE, BUT THE RUSSIAN GOT DRUNK AND HIS PHONE WAS 'STOLEN'

50g butter

2 x 340g packs Waitrose Game Casserole

200g pack smoked bacon lardons

225g whole chestnuts

2 onions, roughly chopped

25g plain flour

150ml port, red wine or do like me & and use Mulled Wine!

300ml hot chicken stock

2 tbsp redcurrant jelly, plus extra to serve

1 small orange

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 170 deree centigrade

2. In a flameproof casserole add half the butter and (briefly) brown the game in batches on a high heat (couple of mins will do!) Remove and set aside.

3. Add the lardons, cook briefly, then place with the game.

4. Add the remaining butter to the casserole and fry the chestnuts for a couple of mins until softened and browned, remove and reserve.

5. Add the onion and fry over a high heat for 3-4 minutes, until softened.

6. Return the game and bacon to the pan, sprinkle in the flour and gradually blend in the mulled wine, stock and redcurrant jelly. Bring to the boil, stirring, then add the whole orange.

7. Cover and cook for about one and a half hours, or until the meat is tender.

8. About 15 minutes before the end of cooking, add the chestnuts.

9. Remove and reserve the orange and allow to cool slightly.

10. Halve the orange, then push it through a sieve, collecting the juice and pulp in a bowl. Gradually stir this juice into the stew to taste, then season.

*an adapion of a trusty Waitrose recipe, I served this with very garlicky mash (my cure for all ails) and buttery steamed kale with more very thinkly sliced garlic.

I leave you with this lovely bit of nonsense

from Armstrong & Miller