I think it takes at least 3 repeats for something to become tradition. And the Christmas dinner for all our uni friends is now firmly cemented as such. And everytime a new mini tradition is added - secret santa presents, certain drinking games, brownies for pudding, etc.
We never manage to get everyone every year, but there is always a good number and every year there will be someone new (new boyfriends or girlfriend, new housemates, or colleagues) but it never matters - the philosophy has always been the more the merrier.
This year, in true festive spirit the snow came down thick and fast the morning of the dinner. It looked wonderful. But it did make the walk to ASDA a little more problematic. Though not as bad as the day before. When I fell over. Carrying 8 (yes EIGHT) carrier bags of food for the dinner (I had decided to do the booze and mixers on the day, so there were no bottles, however I was carrying all the potatoes, carrots, parsnips, etc - basically everything bulky and heavy) I had carefully balanced myself with four bags of equal weight in each hand. Clearly the planning was not so great as I really did fall totally flat on my back. Carrots went rolling off, broccoli florets were bouncing across the frozen tarmac. And a line of traffic had to stop while I picked myself up. In fact three people FROM SEPARATE CARS (two were the actual drivers) had to get out of their vehicles to pick me and the shopping up. One even got some spare bags for life out of his boot. And to top it all off I still had over half the walk home, and am now sporting a rather impressive bruise on my bum. Great.
The walk on Saturday was slightly less eventful (I only fell down once, and the Wiganer was on hand to pick me up, also a hedge was blocking the view from the road so the humiliation was lessened). And luckily the Boyfriend picked us up in his brand new car (RIP the micra...).
But we were running really late - it was 3pm and the turkey was not even in the oven, and we were apparently eating at 6.30. No chance I hear you snort, but actually we were not far off that. Because we have an ingenious, foolproof, and most importantly, a lazy way of cooking the turkey.
Ingredients:
Turkey
4 Carrots
2 sticks of celery
2 Leeks
3 Onions
4 cloves of garlic
Seasoning
White wine (about half a bottle)
1 1/2 pints of chicken stock
Stuffing
First stuff and season your bird. Then roughly chop all the veg into fairly large chunks. Place in a large disposable aluminium roasting tray and put the turkey on top. Place on the hob and pour in the liquids. Bring to the boil on top of the hob and then cover with two layers of bacofoil and pop in a pre-heated oven (200 degrees) for 2 hours.
That is it. No basting, no need to check it. After two hours take it out, have a look and pierce it with a knife - juices run clear and no one should die. If there don't pop it back in for 20 minutes.
Once it is cooked take it out. Mix together some honey, a little butter/marg and some lemon juice. Using a pastry brush paint it all over the top of the turkey and then sprinkle with thyme. Into a hot oven for 20mins until crispy and brown. Take out and rest for 20mins until ready to carve (or be hacked apart by inexperienced Boyfriend).
We did the usual veggies and trimmings (homemade sausage meat stuffing was my piece de resistance). And rounded it all off with brownies and choc sauce, mince pies and creme fraiche, crackers and secret santa presents. And then we played games and danced and drank and eventually went out (but would not get into the cabs until some people had started a snowball fight).
We went to a club and danced. And got in at 3am to turkey and stuffing sandwiches and leftover brownies. Another tradition. Yum.
Showing posts with label Jessica Howe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jessica Howe. Show all posts
Monday, 20 December 2010
NYC....
....is my new favourite place in the world (apart perhaps from my sofa with the Boyfriend and Elf on TV).
We were there for 5 days. In that time we did as much as is humanly possible.
It was -8 and really cold. Bone chillingly cold. But the good thing about New York is that there are coffee shops and cafes on every corner, between every street, in fact every other place sells some sort of caffinated beverage.
We went to the Top of the Rock (amazing, much smaller queue than the Empire State Building and you can look at the Empire State Building - you can't see it if you climb it!) and Grand Central Station, New York Library and Times Square.
We walked across Brooklyn Bridge and got the Staten Island ferry. We drank in a speak easy and ate in a diner. The Boyfriend drank buckets of beer and ate greasy chicken wings. I went to the Magnolia Bakery and re-lived Carrie's Sex and the City cupcake eating. We went shopping and saw Elf The Musical on Broadway.
We stayed with a friend, who is still a true Croydoner, but is also slowly becoming a New Yorker. He took us to some hidden gems (Whiskey Town - free shot of whiskey with every drink and truly delicious whiskey sours, PDF - old speakeasy hidden behind the wall of a rather scrubby looking hot dog stand, ESS Bagel - best bagel place in New York and when we went inside were accosted by a local asking us how we knew about the place and that we were lucky as it really was the best bagel place in the city).
We got the ferry to Ellis and Liberty Island (FREEZING) and saw the Statue of Liberty up close. And watched a very informative film about the history of New York immigrants and Ellis Island. We also went to the History of New York Museum (bit rubbish apart from the BRILLIANT film about the history of the city, starting with the Native American tribes that lived there, then the Dutch settlers, right through to the modern day).
We wandered through Chinatown and the Boyfriend nearly went to the Chinese McDonalds. We went for dinner in Korea Way (apparently containing the highest number of Koreans outside Korea). Dinner was a BBQ sunk into our table and platter after platter of raw, marinated meat and fish were bought over for us to cook ourselves. It was delicious and also such a novelty!
We wandered through Central Park, went ice-skating, but avoided the extortionately over-priced horse and carriage ride. We went to Bloomingdales (Bloomys) and had frozen yogurt and tried on stupidly expensive outfits. We visited wall street and saw the big bronze bull from the film "Hitch".
While the boys indulged in the constant sport shown on every TV in every bar I wandered the streets of Soho and Greenwich Village, trying on vintage one-offs and restraining myself from buying 101 trinkets. In fact it was the wandering of the city that were perhaps my favourite part of the trip. It is just the best city for that - not too big, easy to navigate thanks to the ingenious grid system and just FULL of amazing things at every step.
We were there for 5 days. In that time we did as much as is humanly possible.
It was -8 and really cold. Bone chillingly cold. But the good thing about New York is that there are coffee shops and cafes on every corner, between every street, in fact every other place sells some sort of caffinated beverage.
We went to the Top of the Rock (amazing, much smaller queue than the Empire State Building and you can look at the Empire State Building - you can't see it if you climb it!) and Grand Central Station, New York Library and Times Square.
We walked across Brooklyn Bridge and got the Staten Island ferry. We drank in a speak easy and ate in a diner. The Boyfriend drank buckets of beer and ate greasy chicken wings. I went to the Magnolia Bakery and re-lived Carrie's Sex and the City cupcake eating. We went shopping and saw Elf The Musical on Broadway.
We stayed with a friend, who is still a true Croydoner, but is also slowly becoming a New Yorker. He took us to some hidden gems (Whiskey Town - free shot of whiskey with every drink and truly delicious whiskey sours, PDF - old speakeasy hidden behind the wall of a rather scrubby looking hot dog stand, ESS Bagel - best bagel place in New York and when we went inside were accosted by a local asking us how we knew about the place and that we were lucky as it really was the best bagel place in the city).
We got the ferry to Ellis and Liberty Island (FREEZING) and saw the Statue of Liberty up close. And watched a very informative film about the history of New York immigrants and Ellis Island. We also went to the History of New York Museum (bit rubbish apart from the BRILLIANT film about the history of the city, starting with the Native American tribes that lived there, then the Dutch settlers, right through to the modern day).
We wandered through Chinatown and the Boyfriend nearly went to the Chinese McDonalds. We went for dinner in Korea Way (apparently containing the highest number of Koreans outside Korea). Dinner was a BBQ sunk into our table and platter after platter of raw, marinated meat and fish were bought over for us to cook ourselves. It was delicious and also such a novelty!
We wandered through Central Park, went ice-skating, but avoided the extortionately over-priced horse and carriage ride. We went to Bloomingdales (Bloomys) and had frozen yogurt and tried on stupidly expensive outfits. We visited wall street and saw the big bronze bull from the film "Hitch".
While the boys indulged in the constant sport shown on every TV in every bar I wandered the streets of Soho and Greenwich Village, trying on vintage one-offs and restraining myself from buying 101 trinkets. In fact it was the wandering of the city that were perhaps my favourite part of the trip. It is just the best city for that - not too big, easy to navigate thanks to the ingenious grid system and just FULL of amazing things at every step.
Friday, 10 December 2010
The tree!
The Boyfriend and I have put up our enormous tree. It is a 7 footer (not as big as Louise's at 8foot but the Micra was not going to cope with another inch, let alone foot). It comes with a state of the art stand (the Boyfriend was possibly more excited by this than the actual tree, demonstrating its merits to me a total of 4 times) and the Boyfriend got a LOT of lights.
The tree decorating got off to a wonderful start. We twined the lights round, taking the time to place them the correct distance from the centre of the tree, but not too close to the edge, evenly spaced as they ascended the tree, and finally twirling the last few around the top. We switched them on and.... nothing. We tried everything (including changing a fuse, and checking every bulb) until 30minutes later when I suggested that perhaps they were broken, and needed to be returned.
So back to Homebase, who were very obliging and even gave us a further £5 off (the already half price lights - bargain!). And set two worked perfectly - twinkly and multi-coloured and magical looking.
On went the decorations, and tinsel, then off came the tinsel as I disagree with it on the tree and despite the Boyfriend's attempt to sneak it on, it is not inconspicuous enough to be overlooked. It went over the picture frames and the window. Much better.
It looks amazing. Though it is minus an angel at the top. This is partially due to the argument of angel (me) versus star (the Boyfriend). And the result has been the purchase of neither. And also, as we are off to New York tomorrow, I'm harbouring a secret hope of getting a statue of Liberty wearing a Christmas hat to pop on the top.
The tree decorating got off to a wonderful start. We twined the lights round, taking the time to place them the correct distance from the centre of the tree, but not too close to the edge, evenly spaced as they ascended the tree, and finally twirling the last few around the top. We switched them on and.... nothing. We tried everything (including changing a fuse, and checking every bulb) until 30minutes later when I suggested that perhaps they were broken, and needed to be returned.
So back to Homebase, who were very obliging and even gave us a further £5 off (the already half price lights - bargain!). And set two worked perfectly - twinkly and multi-coloured and magical looking.
On went the decorations, and tinsel, then off came the tinsel as I disagree with it on the tree and despite the Boyfriend's attempt to sneak it on, it is not inconspicuous enough to be overlooked. It went over the picture frames and the window. Much better.
It looks amazing. Though it is minus an angel at the top. This is partially due to the argument of angel (me) versus star (the Boyfriend). And the result has been the purchase of neither. And also, as we are off to New York tomorrow, I'm harbouring a secret hope of getting a statue of Liberty wearing a Christmas hat to pop on the top.
Monday, 6 December 2010
Christmas shopping
I'm doing rather well on the Christmas shopping front so far this year. And not just because I have completed a fair amount, but also because (given my dire financial situation - reconciling lifestyle and salary has elluded me for the last few months) I have managed to not pay full price for a single present.
It could just be me noticing for the first time, but I really don't think it is. Every high street shop seems to be offering some sort of discount. Our Christmas decorations, courtesy of Debenhams were 3 for 2 AND 10%. All department stores seem to be having weekends of 20% off, or matching the cheapest price elsewhere. Even smaller shops have discounts if you can be bothered to do a bit of hunting, or do day specific shopping (much easier if you finish work in central London by 2pm I know, but hey, I need some perks for the rubbish hours and low pay)
Online discount codes and free delivery has also helped me out, as has internet checking for the cheapest deals. All in all I'm feeling a little smug. And ready to totally NOT be frugal on my upcoming trip to New York City.
It could just be me noticing for the first time, but I really don't think it is. Every high street shop seems to be offering some sort of discount. Our Christmas decorations, courtesy of Debenhams were 3 for 2 AND 10%. All department stores seem to be having weekends of 20% off, or matching the cheapest price elsewhere. Even smaller shops have discounts if you can be bothered to do a bit of hunting, or do day specific shopping (much easier if you finish work in central London by 2pm I know, but hey, I need some perks for the rubbish hours and low pay)
Online discount codes and free delivery has also helped me out, as has internet checking for the cheapest deals. All in all I'm feeling a little smug. And ready to totally NOT be frugal on my upcoming trip to New York City.
Festive baking
I have found a cheap, quick, low fat and practically fool proof way to make mince pies.
All you need is a pack of ready made filo pastry sheets, a jar of mincemeat and some milk.
Get a sheet of filo pastry and fold it in half. Cut it into 4 and place a teaspoon of mincemeat at one end. Flatten it out and then roll up the pastry like a cracker. Pinch the ends and repeat until all the pastry and mincemeat are used up (should you run out of mincemeat substitute with jam - especially if the Boyfriend has recently purchased some fancy stuff from Borough Market).
Place on a baking tray and brush with milk. Bake for 8-10mins until golden brown.
Leave to cool as molten mincemeat is hotter than the sun.
All you need is a pack of ready made filo pastry sheets, a jar of mincemeat and some milk.
Get a sheet of filo pastry and fold it in half. Cut it into 4 and place a teaspoon of mincemeat at one end. Flatten it out and then roll up the pastry like a cracker. Pinch the ends and repeat until all the pastry and mincemeat are used up (should you run out of mincemeat substitute with jam - especially if the Boyfriend has recently purchased some fancy stuff from Borough Market).
Place on a baking tray and brush with milk. Bake for 8-10mins until golden brown.
Leave to cool as molten mincemeat is hotter than the sun.
Perfect weekend
I have been ill for the last three weekends. It has been rubbish. And this weekend was the first one I felt like a normal person.
Friday - had friends round for a drink and a catch up.
Saturday we bundled up nice and warm and went to Borough Market. It was fun and festive, and we had a chippy lunch (warm chips, cold hands, equals perfect match). We returned home with beer and jam (both chosen by the Boyfriend - how quaint!).
Went to coffee house The Black Lab in Clapham to see my sister. We drank tea and gossiped, and laughed and laughed and laughed. Friends came to meet us, and they laughed (mainly at us I think) and then it was time to go home and even though it was dark it wasn't late and the walk back was chilly but not freezing thanks to a bellyful of warm tea.
Train to Wandsworth town, and appreciation of a beautiful Christmas tree accompanied with a gin and tonic. Dinner was Thai and then drinks at The Ship (big bizarre and beautiful pub right on the edge of the river). And then things got hazy and there were cabs and shots and dancing, unexpected friends and a broken tooth (not mine). And then home and bed and a long long sleep.
Sunday was lazy. There was tea and scones (a McDonalds for the Boyfriend) and a walk and some baking, christmas cards, fajitas and then X Factor.
Everything just came together to make the weekend exactly what I needed
Friday - had friends round for a drink and a catch up.
Saturday we bundled up nice and warm and went to Borough Market. It was fun and festive, and we had a chippy lunch (warm chips, cold hands, equals perfect match). We returned home with beer and jam (both chosen by the Boyfriend - how quaint!).
Went to coffee house The Black Lab in Clapham to see my sister. We drank tea and gossiped, and laughed and laughed and laughed. Friends came to meet us, and they laughed (mainly at us I think) and then it was time to go home and even though it was dark it wasn't late and the walk back was chilly but not freezing thanks to a bellyful of warm tea.
Train to Wandsworth town, and appreciation of a beautiful Christmas tree accompanied with a gin and tonic. Dinner was Thai and then drinks at The Ship (big bizarre and beautiful pub right on the edge of the river). And then things got hazy and there were cabs and shots and dancing, unexpected friends and a broken tooth (not mine). And then home and bed and a long long sleep.
Sunday was lazy. There was tea and scones (a McDonalds for the Boyfriend) and a walk and some baking, christmas cards, fajitas and then X Factor.
Everything just came together to make the weekend exactly what I needed
Sunday, 5 December 2010
Tree Envy....
The Boyfriend and I have come to a disagreement regarding the Christmas tree. He wants to get it now, I want to wait until we return from New York (is there much point having a tree when we can't see it? Especially when we risk returning home to a tree with no needles?). He however, is adament that it is vital to get the tree as soon as December commences.
This weekend we went round to our friends' house. They too have had an argument regarding a tree. Needless to say it was won by the female, and there is now an 8 foot (yes EIGHT!!) tree wedged in their living room. The furniture has had to be moved, and you can only see half the TV but this tree is actually one of the most beautiful I have ever seen.
It is red and cream and twinkly. There are little wooden decorations, big glass baubles, and glossy silk stockings. There is even the odd poshy chocolate. My moral stance on Christmas trees has totally vanished. The minute the Micra is rescued from snowy Croydon we are going straight to Homebase, home of the festive tree.
This weekend we went round to our friends' house. They too have had an argument regarding a tree. Needless to say it was won by the female, and there is now an 8 foot (yes EIGHT!!) tree wedged in their living room. The furniture has had to be moved, and you can only see half the TV but this tree is actually one of the most beautiful I have ever seen.
It is red and cream and twinkly. There are little wooden decorations, big glass baubles, and glossy silk stockings. There is even the odd poshy chocolate. My moral stance on Christmas trees has totally vanished. The minute the Micra is rescued from snowy Croydon we are going straight to Homebase, home of the festive tree.
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
Festive preparations....
Obviously, any of you that actually know me either in person or via this blog will be aware of my potentially unhealthy obsession with all things festive.
Being ill has meant that my unwillingly forced pre-crimbo detox has only heightened this excitement to new levels. I have two advent calendars. One choccie courtesy of the Boyfriend who pitied my father's choice of a picture only calendar (which I secretly LOVE - a remnant of our mother's incredibly strict views on confectionary). The Boyfriend and I have bought a lovely selection of Christmas decorations (thanks to his sister's generous housewarming vouchers) and even looked at Christmas trees this week.
I'm currently putting the finishing touches to the preparations for the annual Christmas dinner with us and our friends (secret santa organisation takes time!) and have just invited some friends round to ours for an evening of festive songs, mince pies, mulled wine and (a newly discovered favourite last year) Winter Pimms (normal Pimms but with wintery clove flavours and a lot of brandy served warm with apple juice - AMAZING).
I shall be making my own mince pies, and found a lovely Delia recipe using filo pastry and making the mince pies into mince crackers! For me this sounds very exciting and shall be debuted next week. I shall let you know the results.
I am also going to attempt my own Yule Log (basically a swiss roll surely?) and although I have missed stir up Sunday, I may even attempt a Christmas cake.....
Oh the possibilities are endless!
Being ill has meant that my unwillingly forced pre-crimbo detox has only heightened this excitement to new levels. I have two advent calendars. One choccie courtesy of the Boyfriend who pitied my father's choice of a picture only calendar (which I secretly LOVE - a remnant of our mother's incredibly strict views on confectionary). The Boyfriend and I have bought a lovely selection of Christmas decorations (thanks to his sister's generous housewarming vouchers) and even looked at Christmas trees this week.
I'm currently putting the finishing touches to the preparations for the annual Christmas dinner with us and our friends (secret santa organisation takes time!) and have just invited some friends round to ours for an evening of festive songs, mince pies, mulled wine and (a newly discovered favourite last year) Winter Pimms (normal Pimms but with wintery clove flavours and a lot of brandy served warm with apple juice - AMAZING).
I shall be making my own mince pies, and found a lovely Delia recipe using filo pastry and making the mince pies into mince crackers! For me this sounds very exciting and shall be debuted next week. I shall let you know the results.
I am also going to attempt my own Yule Log (basically a swiss roll surely?) and although I have missed stir up Sunday, I may even attempt a Christmas cake.....
Oh the possibilities are endless!
Cake Boutique
Sundays should be exactly as mine was this weekend. The Boyfriend and I got up (hangover free! as we had gone straight to bed after dinner - me recovering and him jetlagged) and got all wrapped up in coats and jumpers and hats and scarves, and even dug out some (rather grotty looking) gloves and then we went out.
We wandered down to Battersea Park and went for a big walk round the whole thing. It is a gorgeous park - big, wide, tree-lined avenues, bits of landscaped garden, a boating lake, another lake, a sub-tropical garden, outdoor gym and even a zoo (didn't go in as it was closed). There were also of lovely dogs (one of which we tried to adopt as it did seem to prefer us to its acutal owner).
The park is the perfect size to walk around in the cold - by the time we were starting to get seriously chilled we had done a full circuit and headed back homewards (via a newsagent - the Boyfriend got a paper and also some pic and mix).
We bypassed the flat and carried on up to Lavender Hill and went into the Cake Boutique.
I've walked past numerous times, and even popped in but never actually had anything. It is a lovely little cafe that sells cakes, both homemade and ready to eat, or you can commission them to make personalised baked goods from cupcakes to muffins to gateaus and birthday masterpieces. They also, a little oddly though lovely nonetheless, have a beautiful selection of rather grand mirrors for sale.
The Boyfriend and I spent a good 10minutes surveying the gorgeous range of homebaked cakes. I opted for the carrot cake (moist, sweet and very big slice - cream cheese frosting was a little cheesy and at first it put me off, but acutally was quite nice as the cake was really sweet) although deliberated for ages between that and a lovely looking apple crumble slice. The Boyfriend went for a full english, but swapped the egg and mushrooms for extra bacon and sausage (which they took very well - often places seem a little peeved at all the swapping that inevitably happens when people personalise their great english fry up). He also had a coconut macaroon on the side (his sweet tooth never ceases to amaze me - nor his ability to consume so much and yet never gain weight).
My earl grey came in a teapot with a tea strainer as the tea was real loose leaves - for me a real treat and something so hard to find! The English Breakfast was really good - proper sausages, good quality bacon and some proper farmhouse toast, served with butter NOT marge.
The prices were reasonable for somewhere so nice, and so close to the catastrophically expensive (and rather pretentious) Northcote Road. The service was quick, but not too quick to make you suspect microwaves instead of proper cooking, and the atmosphere was calm but not dull. All in all if you are in the Clapham vicinity check out this South London gem.
We wandered down to Battersea Park and went for a big walk round the whole thing. It is a gorgeous park - big, wide, tree-lined avenues, bits of landscaped garden, a boating lake, another lake, a sub-tropical garden, outdoor gym and even a zoo (didn't go in as it was closed). There were also of lovely dogs (one of which we tried to adopt as it did seem to prefer us to its acutal owner).
The park is the perfect size to walk around in the cold - by the time we were starting to get seriously chilled we had done a full circuit and headed back homewards (via a newsagent - the Boyfriend got a paper and also some pic and mix).
We bypassed the flat and carried on up to Lavender Hill and went into the Cake Boutique.
I've walked past numerous times, and even popped in but never actually had anything. It is a lovely little cafe that sells cakes, both homemade and ready to eat, or you can commission them to make personalised baked goods from cupcakes to muffins to gateaus and birthday masterpieces. They also, a little oddly though lovely nonetheless, have a beautiful selection of rather grand mirrors for sale.
The Boyfriend and I spent a good 10minutes surveying the gorgeous range of homebaked cakes. I opted for the carrot cake (moist, sweet and very big slice - cream cheese frosting was a little cheesy and at first it put me off, but acutally was quite nice as the cake was really sweet) although deliberated for ages between that and a lovely looking apple crumble slice. The Boyfriend went for a full english, but swapped the egg and mushrooms for extra bacon and sausage (which they took very well - often places seem a little peeved at all the swapping that inevitably happens when people personalise their great english fry up). He also had a coconut macaroon on the side (his sweet tooth never ceases to amaze me - nor his ability to consume so much and yet never gain weight).
My earl grey came in a teapot with a tea strainer as the tea was real loose leaves - for me a real treat and something so hard to find! The English Breakfast was really good - proper sausages, good quality bacon and some proper farmhouse toast, served with butter NOT marge.
The prices were reasonable for somewhere so nice, and so close to the catastrophically expensive (and rather pretentious) Northcote Road. The service was quick, but not too quick to make you suspect microwaves instead of proper cooking, and the atmosphere was calm but not dull. All in all if you are in the Clapham vicinity check out this South London gem.
Monday, 29 November 2010
Tom Illic
Tom Illic is a restaurant literally around the corner from the flat. It is at the end of our road, and since we have lived in the flat for a month now we felt that it was definitely time to try it.
It seems to have won every award going, from Square Meal to Toptable, to a Michelin recommendation. It was a surprise dinner from the Boyfriend as part of my weekend of spoiling. We got there at 8pm on Saturday and it was packed. With a lively but not obnoxious crowd of all ages - there were elderly couples, big families celebrating birthdays, several tables of young couples and even a family of four with two kids under 10.
The atmosphere was fun. The service was swift, polite but unobtrusive. The menu looked a little pricey, but there was also a very reasonable set menu that looked just as good.
I started with chicken livers pan fried with caramalised red onion and artichoke. It was delicious. Flavoursome without being overpowering and the chicken livers were tender and rich and perfectly paired with caramalised red onion. The bread which came to the table meant that I could spread some of the chicken as a pate - and it went wonderfully with the nutty walnut brown bread.
We both had the sea bass with crushed new potatoes and broccoli. On the face of it this sounded a little dull (fish, mash and greens). But it was far from that in reality. Covered in a well seasoned and mildly spicy dressing the whole dish worked brilliantly. The broccoli was firm and not over cooked, the sea bass steamed to perfection, and the crushed new potatoes were well seasoned and a little crispy on the outside - just perfect.
The Boyfriend had pudding - pineapple tarte tatin with coconut ice cream. He loved it, though it was a little tangy for me (I don't really like pineapple so it was never going to a winner). Being nosy however, I had a good gander at the puddings around and would definitely have gone for the assiette of derserts - a mini portion of each.
Being full of antibiotics meant that alcohol was off the agenda, but the wine list was a good'un. I would have pushed either for a bottle of the Chablis, or, as we were celebrating a nice bottle of prosecco.
It seems to have won every award going, from Square Meal to Toptable, to a Michelin recommendation. It was a surprise dinner from the Boyfriend as part of my weekend of spoiling. We got there at 8pm on Saturday and it was packed. With a lively but not obnoxious crowd of all ages - there were elderly couples, big families celebrating birthdays, several tables of young couples and even a family of four with two kids under 10.
The atmosphere was fun. The service was swift, polite but unobtrusive. The menu looked a little pricey, but there was also a very reasonable set menu that looked just as good.
I started with chicken livers pan fried with caramalised red onion and artichoke. It was delicious. Flavoursome without being overpowering and the chicken livers were tender and rich and perfectly paired with caramalised red onion. The bread which came to the table meant that I could spread some of the chicken as a pate - and it went wonderfully with the nutty walnut brown bread.
We both had the sea bass with crushed new potatoes and broccoli. On the face of it this sounded a little dull (fish, mash and greens). But it was far from that in reality. Covered in a well seasoned and mildly spicy dressing the whole dish worked brilliantly. The broccoli was firm and not over cooked, the sea bass steamed to perfection, and the crushed new potatoes were well seasoned and a little crispy on the outside - just perfect.
The Boyfriend had pudding - pineapple tarte tatin with coconut ice cream. He loved it, though it was a little tangy for me (I don't really like pineapple so it was never going to a winner). Being nosy however, I had a good gander at the puddings around and would definitely have gone for the assiette of derserts - a mini portion of each.
Being full of antibiotics meant that alcohol was off the agenda, but the wine list was a good'un. I would have pushed either for a bottle of the Chablis, or, as we were celebrating a nice bottle of prosecco.
Being spoilt
One of the other upsides to being ill is being spoilt. For the first few days I was not really with it (mixture of a lot of painkillers and a general aneasthetic meant that poor sister had a lot of the same conversations, mainly focussing on Christmas. She was extremely good humoured and didn't seem to mind answering the same question umpteen times).
But after the first few days, when my brain started to function a bit more normally I fully managed to enjoy the spoiling.
I missed seeing Harry Potter due to surgery. And so was taken to the poshy cinema near Queen's Park with the uber comfy premier seats to watch it one afternoon.
My dearest Deeks popped over to see me and brought me some lovely jammies (M&S - must be sensible when you're ill) which were exactly what was needed (big tum meant expandable waistbands were a must).
My aunty brought me cake and yummy edible treats.
Pearse bought me good books and flowers and a lovely card.
Lovely step-mum Jennie took me to Bicester shopping village, and while shopping was slow, we did have lots of yummy coffee/cake/soup stops.
And the Boyfriend planned a low key but fun packed weekend of activities all designed with me at the centre. We went to Battersea dogs and cats home to look at potential kittens. And pottered round a little farmer's market. And got me a treat in Topshop. And watched X Factor. And went out for a lovely dinner. And had a yummy Sunday brunch with papers. Almost worth him being away for the illness for the pure pleasure and cosiness of the past weekend. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.
But after the first few days, when my brain started to function a bit more normally I fully managed to enjoy the spoiling.
I missed seeing Harry Potter due to surgery. And so was taken to the poshy cinema near Queen's Park with the uber comfy premier seats to watch it one afternoon.
My dearest Deeks popped over to see me and brought me some lovely jammies (M&S - must be sensible when you're ill) which were exactly what was needed (big tum meant expandable waistbands were a must).
My aunty brought me cake and yummy edible treats.
Pearse bought me good books and flowers and a lovely card.
Lovely step-mum Jennie took me to Bicester shopping village, and while shopping was slow, we did have lots of yummy coffee/cake/soup stops.
And the Boyfriend planned a low key but fun packed weekend of activities all designed with me at the centre. We went to Battersea dogs and cats home to look at potential kittens. And pottered round a little farmer's market. And got me a treat in Topshop. And watched X Factor. And went out for a lovely dinner. And had a yummy Sunday brunch with papers. Almost worth him being away for the illness for the pure pleasure and cosiness of the past weekend. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.
Sunday, 28 November 2010
A small pause
I have been ill. And not the sniffly, feeling chilly, want to snuggle up in duvet and a bit sorry for myself ill, but going into hospital ill. And on top of it all the Boyfriend was in Mozambique until two days ago. Poor him - he nearly flew home and had a thoroughly miserable and stressful business trip. Poor me - he wasn't there.
I've never really been ill before, and the whole experience has been a bit alien.
Poor Pearse (extremely good red headed friend) had popped round for a glass of wine and found me curled on the floor calling a cab to take me to A&E. Without hestitation he packed me an overnight bag, jumped in the cab with me and sat with me in St Thomas' A&E for over 3 hours.
I discovered that the best way to be rushed through A&E is to faint in the middle of the floor and that dry shampoo is the best invention EVER for a hospital stay.
After suspected appendicitis and a laparoscopy (camera in tummy) I was diagnosed with PID (Pelvic Inflammatory Disease - extremely broad umbrella term that seems to cover A LOT) and after 3 days was sent home.
I also learnt how much I use my tummy. Having any sort of surgery in the abdominal area is horrible. Coughing, laughing, sneezing, breathing, sitting, moving, EVERYTHING seems to use those muscles. And causes pain.
3 days on and I managed to dress myself (it did take the best part of an hour but I DID IT!). 5 days on and I managed a shower without my sister hovering nearby, and 6 days on I managed to wash my hair unaided. The dependency issues made me appreciate having a sister practically my own age, as any remnants of dignity disappeared the first time she had to help me put on clean knickers.
It was a fast forward to what old age must feel like - feeling tired and fragile, being a little slow and being unable to have proper independence.
I lost my appetite. They pump your stomach full of air so that the camera can see your insides - and it takes a while for the air to come back out ( "oh, you'll be windy" my dear Wiganer informed me) and it also gives the appearance of being in my thrid trimester of pregnancy. On top of it all, your stomach feels full all the time, and squeezing meals in is a struggle. I have however, lost an impressive amount of weight.
I'm still rattling with various pills, and will be until the end of the week. And they all have big scary warnings about mixing with alcohol. And so by the end of this week I will have been sober for the best part of 3 weeks.
So all in all, illness has got its positives - I've had an enforced detox in the run up to the festive period, and an enforced temporary gastric band, and so feel fully able to overindulge as of the end of this week. One must appreciate the small things in life!
I've never really been ill before, and the whole experience has been a bit alien.
Poor Pearse (extremely good red headed friend) had popped round for a glass of wine and found me curled on the floor calling a cab to take me to A&E. Without hestitation he packed me an overnight bag, jumped in the cab with me and sat with me in St Thomas' A&E for over 3 hours.
I discovered that the best way to be rushed through A&E is to faint in the middle of the floor and that dry shampoo is the best invention EVER for a hospital stay.
After suspected appendicitis and a laparoscopy (camera in tummy) I was diagnosed with PID (Pelvic Inflammatory Disease - extremely broad umbrella term that seems to cover A LOT) and after 3 days was sent home.
I also learnt how much I use my tummy. Having any sort of surgery in the abdominal area is horrible. Coughing, laughing, sneezing, breathing, sitting, moving, EVERYTHING seems to use those muscles. And causes pain.
3 days on and I managed to dress myself (it did take the best part of an hour but I DID IT!). 5 days on and I managed a shower without my sister hovering nearby, and 6 days on I managed to wash my hair unaided. The dependency issues made me appreciate having a sister practically my own age, as any remnants of dignity disappeared the first time she had to help me put on clean knickers.
It was a fast forward to what old age must feel like - feeling tired and fragile, being a little slow and being unable to have proper independence.
I lost my appetite. They pump your stomach full of air so that the camera can see your insides - and it takes a while for the air to come back out ( "oh, you'll be windy" my dear Wiganer informed me) and it also gives the appearance of being in my thrid trimester of pregnancy. On top of it all, your stomach feels full all the time, and squeezing meals in is a struggle. I have however, lost an impressive amount of weight.
I'm still rattling with various pills, and will be until the end of the week. And they all have big scary warnings about mixing with alcohol. And so by the end of this week I will have been sober for the best part of 3 weeks.
So all in all, illness has got its positives - I've had an enforced detox in the run up to the festive period, and an enforced temporary gastric band, and so feel fully able to overindulge as of the end of this week. One must appreciate the small things in life!
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
Italian eating
San Gennaro. Another near-flat eatery, recommended by fellow foodie and highly esteemed friend Irish redhead Pearse (whom incidentally we bumped into as we left).
It is a little Italian place on Battersea Park Road. They do a half price offer for those early enough to make it (not us) and the staff are all Italian (very authentic, although some confusion over ordering).
We started with bread (big chunks of warm ciabatta with oil and balsamic - YUM). The Peroni comes in the authentic Italian brown bottle, and the wine menu has some of my faves on there (Gavi de Gavi - delish). I had the seafood linguine, and it most certainly did not disappoint. A big steaming portion of tender linguine in a tomatoey herby sauce absolutely choc-a-bloc with seafood. Mussels, clams, prawns, squid, a giant prawn like thing (head, claws and all).
The Boyfriend had the Diavolo pizza (minus mushrooms to the confusion of the waiter - hence having to send it back). Once it arrived as he requested it was lovely. Properly Italian - thin crispy base, fresh tomato topping, flavoursome without being greasy.
Being the nosey so and so that I am, I couldn't help having a good look at the other dishes surrounding our table (and for a Thursday, the place was packed, and had a steady stream of takeaway customers). All the pasta dishes looked lovely - fresh and decent portion sizes. The risottos looked equally good, and the calzone was nothing short of impressive (nb. you need to be HUNGRY to go for that bad boy - it was enormous).
Too stuffed for a desert (the tiramasu on the other table did almost tempt me) we got the bill (again, very reasonable) and toddled the short distance home (bumping into aforementioned redhead).
Italian number 2.
For our dearest father's birthday (actual day, not weekend prior to) we found ourselves in the strange position of being a three (me, my sister, and the Birthday Boy). The Boyfriend has abandoned me for Mozambique (a work trip, and possibly abandoned is a little unfair) and my stepmother is off in France.
So Lucy and I were meeting our dearest Pa at 6pm sharp to try, once again to get into Jamie's Italian in Covent Garden. Now, I have tried and failed a number of times to eat there previously, always giving up on the queue (you can't book unless there are more than 6 of you) and so was rather excited when we got ushered to our table.
We started off with two antipasti boards (one meat, one veggie). They were delicious, but not big. Better value at Browns round the corner. But the bread was really lovely (unstable container though - managed to knock it on the floor at one point) and it meant we still had space for the mains.
Sister and Pa both had the Pasta of the Day (spaghetti with roasted veggies) which was lovely. Not too greasy, the spaghetti was nicely aldente and the veggies cooked but not soggy. I had scallops (one of my FAVOURITE foods). I got four, and they were delicious, but at nearly £16 it would have been nice if they came with a bit more (accompanied by a tiny side salad, and some tasty, but not liberally added tomato salsa - a bigger salad wouldn't have gone amiss). But yes, all in all the food was very good.
Perhaps the best part were the puddings. We had two with three spoons. Awesome chocolate and Espresso Tart with glazed figs and orange creme fraiche (totally wonderful, coffee prevented it from being too sickly, figs were ripe to perfection and the tangy orange again cut through the richness of the choc) and baked walnut tart with espresso creme fraiche and hazelnuts (possibly the best pudding I've ever had. It was slightly chewy, but crunchy with the hazelnuts, crumbly with the pastry and the cool creme fraiche was tangy and a great accompaniment.
I dashed off to the "loo" and paid the bill behind the Birthday boy's back. I think that was the best part of the entire evening - he was so touched, I felt like we were in a mastercard advert - look on Daddy's face: priceless.
It is a little Italian place on Battersea Park Road. They do a half price offer for those early enough to make it (not us) and the staff are all Italian (very authentic, although some confusion over ordering).
We started with bread (big chunks of warm ciabatta with oil and balsamic - YUM). The Peroni comes in the authentic Italian brown bottle, and the wine menu has some of my faves on there (Gavi de Gavi - delish). I had the seafood linguine, and it most certainly did not disappoint. A big steaming portion of tender linguine in a tomatoey herby sauce absolutely choc-a-bloc with seafood. Mussels, clams, prawns, squid, a giant prawn like thing (head, claws and all).
The Boyfriend had the Diavolo pizza (minus mushrooms to the confusion of the waiter - hence having to send it back). Once it arrived as he requested it was lovely. Properly Italian - thin crispy base, fresh tomato topping, flavoursome without being greasy.
Being the nosey so and so that I am, I couldn't help having a good look at the other dishes surrounding our table (and for a Thursday, the place was packed, and had a steady stream of takeaway customers). All the pasta dishes looked lovely - fresh and decent portion sizes. The risottos looked equally good, and the calzone was nothing short of impressive (nb. you need to be HUNGRY to go for that bad boy - it was enormous).
Too stuffed for a desert (the tiramasu on the other table did almost tempt me) we got the bill (again, very reasonable) and toddled the short distance home (bumping into aforementioned redhead).
Italian number 2.
For our dearest father's birthday (actual day, not weekend prior to) we found ourselves in the strange position of being a three (me, my sister, and the Birthday Boy). The Boyfriend has abandoned me for Mozambique (a work trip, and possibly abandoned is a little unfair) and my stepmother is off in France.
So Lucy and I were meeting our dearest Pa at 6pm sharp to try, once again to get into Jamie's Italian in Covent Garden. Now, I have tried and failed a number of times to eat there previously, always giving up on the queue (you can't book unless there are more than 6 of you) and so was rather excited when we got ushered to our table.
We started off with two antipasti boards (one meat, one veggie). They were delicious, but not big. Better value at Browns round the corner. But the bread was really lovely (unstable container though - managed to knock it on the floor at one point) and it meant we still had space for the mains.
Sister and Pa both had the Pasta of the Day (spaghetti with roasted veggies) which was lovely. Not too greasy, the spaghetti was nicely aldente and the veggies cooked but not soggy. I had scallops (one of my FAVOURITE foods). I got four, and they were delicious, but at nearly £16 it would have been nice if they came with a bit more (accompanied by a tiny side salad, and some tasty, but not liberally added tomato salsa - a bigger salad wouldn't have gone amiss). But yes, all in all the food was very good.
Perhaps the best part were the puddings. We had two with three spoons. Awesome chocolate and Espresso Tart with glazed figs and orange creme fraiche (totally wonderful, coffee prevented it from being too sickly, figs were ripe to perfection and the tangy orange again cut through the richness of the choc) and baked walnut tart with espresso creme fraiche and hazelnuts (possibly the best pudding I've ever had. It was slightly chewy, but crunchy with the hazelnuts, crumbly with the pastry and the cool creme fraiche was tangy and a great accompaniment.
I dashed off to the "loo" and paid the bill behind the Birthday boy's back. I think that was the best part of the entire evening - he was so touched, I felt like we were in a mastercard advert - look on Daddy's face: priceless.
Sunday, 14 November 2010
Le Pot Lyonnaise
My Daddy is turning 54 on Tuesday. To mark this grand occasion the boyfriend and I were due to go to Rye for the Rye Fawkes Bonfire Night. However, both being struck down by a dreaded winter lurgi, we had to bypass the trip and spent the weekend lying pathetically on the sofa, downing lemsip and watching a bizarre selection of films (culminating in Bedknobs and Broomsticks - the Boyfriend really surprising me by singing along, word perfect to "Bobbing along, singing a song").
Instead of a yummy Italian lunch as the Tuscan Kitchen in Rye, it was decided that en route back to Queen's Park, my parents and sister would stop off at the flat, and we would go for birthday lunch at the Parisienne style bistro across the road.
Le Pot Lyonnaise. DO NOT GO.
We turned up for our booking at 12.45. And were seated in the emptiest, gloomiest and coldest part of the restaurant (we didn't realise this until we went to the toilet, and wandered through into a far livlier area). We specified that we were in a bit of a hurry (haircut for the Birthday boy back at Queen's Park at 3.30) and so promptly gave our drinks/food order.
Our waitress was new and had not the foggiest about the menu. After looking blank at the third question she disappeared off to "ask the chef" never to return. In her place we got a surly looking, yet far more capable waitress.
So we ordered at approx 12.55. By 1.30 there was no sign of our food. By 1.45, having mentioned the considerable chill, and being met with the response of "Oh, yeah, it is cold in here - the radiator is a bit old" a glass of ice, ordered with our drinks an HOUR before turned up.
An hour after ordering, and we were starving, cold, and getting grumpier by the second. Birthday boy went to investigate. Surly waitress came to tell us, not how sorry she was for the wait, but that it was our fault for ordering the duck - it takes the longest (yet there is NO mention of this on the menu).
Finally, in dribs and drabs, the food started to arrive. The corn fed chicken was delicious, as were my Moules Mariniere (though the side order of crushed new potatoes with aioli was most definitely a form of instant mash potato). The duck was fine, if a little greasy. Sadly, Birthday boy's steak had a similar texture to old leather. It was cold, dry, and so tough that even the steak knife was making little headway.
He went to take it back, and the previously full restuarant appeared devoid of any staff. So he went into the kitchen to be met by a torrent of abuse from the authentic French chef.
By this point we had been there over an hour and a half, and my father had no food. Dreading another hour wait, he just picked off our plates, paid the bill (minus the discretionary service charge, and the fee for the untouched steak and chips) and we left.
The apology from Miss Surly was pathetic to say the least.
On return to the flat, we had lots of cups of tea, and a slice of delicious homemade coffee and walnut cake, and this seemed to successfully salvage any overhanging ill feeling.
My only advice is to avoid Le Pot Lyonnaise, unless you have buckets of time to spend in a freezing resutarant eating tough, dry and tasteless food. And if you do risk it, make sure you have a good homemade cake back at home.
Instead of a yummy Italian lunch as the Tuscan Kitchen in Rye, it was decided that en route back to Queen's Park, my parents and sister would stop off at the flat, and we would go for birthday lunch at the Parisienne style bistro across the road.
Le Pot Lyonnaise. DO NOT GO.
We turned up for our booking at 12.45. And were seated in the emptiest, gloomiest and coldest part of the restaurant (we didn't realise this until we went to the toilet, and wandered through into a far livlier area). We specified that we were in a bit of a hurry (haircut for the Birthday boy back at Queen's Park at 3.30) and so promptly gave our drinks/food order.
Our waitress was new and had not the foggiest about the menu. After looking blank at the third question she disappeared off to "ask the chef" never to return. In her place we got a surly looking, yet far more capable waitress.
So we ordered at approx 12.55. By 1.30 there was no sign of our food. By 1.45, having mentioned the considerable chill, and being met with the response of "Oh, yeah, it is cold in here - the radiator is a bit old" a glass of ice, ordered with our drinks an HOUR before turned up.
An hour after ordering, and we were starving, cold, and getting grumpier by the second. Birthday boy went to investigate. Surly waitress came to tell us, not how sorry she was for the wait, but that it was our fault for ordering the duck - it takes the longest (yet there is NO mention of this on the menu).
Finally, in dribs and drabs, the food started to arrive. The corn fed chicken was delicious, as were my Moules Mariniere (though the side order of crushed new potatoes with aioli was most definitely a form of instant mash potato). The duck was fine, if a little greasy. Sadly, Birthday boy's steak had a similar texture to old leather. It was cold, dry, and so tough that even the steak knife was making little headway.
He went to take it back, and the previously full restuarant appeared devoid of any staff. So he went into the kitchen to be met by a torrent of abuse from the authentic French chef.
By this point we had been there over an hour and a half, and my father had no food. Dreading another hour wait, he just picked off our plates, paid the bill (minus the discretionary service charge, and the fee for the untouched steak and chips) and we left.
The apology from Miss Surly was pathetic to say the least.
On return to the flat, we had lots of cups of tea, and a slice of delicious homemade coffee and walnut cake, and this seemed to successfully salvage any overhanging ill feeling.
My only advice is to avoid Le Pot Lyonnaise, unless you have buckets of time to spend in a freezing resutarant eating tough, dry and tasteless food. And if you do risk it, make sure you have a good homemade cake back at home.
Thursday, 11 November 2010
The Book Club
My lovely Deeks has upped sticks and moved from ultra poshy Vogue House, to working in an artist's old workshop in Shoreditch. She is doing a dream job, and I couldn't be happier, not only for her own well being, but for the new opportunities that have opened up for lunch.
Finishing work at 12.30pm yesterday, I was one of the lucky (well, if it's considered lucky to get up at 3.15am!) people to have finished work and still have at least 4hours of sunlight left. And due to Miss Deeks' new location, coffee at our favourite Starbucks followed by a mosey round Topshop was out, and so I walked to Holborn, and hopped on a bus to Old Street.
Now east London is not somewhere I pretend to know. I have been a number of times, but to specific locations which I have got to by following strict directions. Yesterday was the first time I've wandered through some of the little streets in order to find a friend.
I met my Deeks outside an Eat. There was also a Pret at the other end of the street. And in between were a medley of wonders.
We settled on The Book Club. It was warm (delicious compared to the practically sub-zero temperatures outside), looked fun inside (randomly collected tables, chairs, stools and sofas) and the menu was perfect for a cold November day.
I had a jacket potato with chicken fajita pieces and a lovely green salad. Deeks had brocolli and cauliflower cheese with maple glazed ham. Both were big and hot and delicious.
After nattering/gossiping like old ladies, we soon had to part ways. As Deeks wandered back to her office, I decided to walk towards the city as it was a lovely day (sunny, but chilly) and I could have done with walking off some of my enormous lunch.
Wandering the streets of Shoreditch I cannot claim to now know the area, but I definitely feel less of an alien there. Give it a few more Book Club lunches (or after work drinks - a very impressive cocktail list including one Garden named one with elderflower and prosecco YUM!) and I will definitely be feeling more at home.
Finishing work at 12.30pm yesterday, I was one of the lucky (well, if it's considered lucky to get up at 3.15am!) people to have finished work and still have at least 4hours of sunlight left. And due to Miss Deeks' new location, coffee at our favourite Starbucks followed by a mosey round Topshop was out, and so I walked to Holborn, and hopped on a bus to Old Street.
Now east London is not somewhere I pretend to know. I have been a number of times, but to specific locations which I have got to by following strict directions. Yesterday was the first time I've wandered through some of the little streets in order to find a friend.
I met my Deeks outside an Eat. There was also a Pret at the other end of the street. And in between were a medley of wonders.
We settled on The Book Club. It was warm (delicious compared to the practically sub-zero temperatures outside), looked fun inside (randomly collected tables, chairs, stools and sofas) and the menu was perfect for a cold November day.
I had a jacket potato with chicken fajita pieces and a lovely green salad. Deeks had brocolli and cauliflower cheese with maple glazed ham. Both were big and hot and delicious.
After nattering/gossiping like old ladies, we soon had to part ways. As Deeks wandered back to her office, I decided to walk towards the city as it was a lovely day (sunny, but chilly) and I could have done with walking off some of my enormous lunch.
Wandering the streets of Shoreditch I cannot claim to now know the area, but I definitely feel less of an alien there. Give it a few more Book Club lunches (or after work drinks - a very impressive cocktail list including one Garden named one with elderflower and prosecco YUM!) and I will definitely be feeling more at home.
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
Books
I have always loved books. My family are readers. So much so that every holiday there is one case purely dedicated to literature. Even if it takes us over the baggage allowance, as a family, the Howes will not back down.
I have always loved stories. One of the first things I learnt to say was "tell me a story". My poor father has told me more or less every single significant (and many many more insignificant) details from his childhood, adolescence, university life, even life as a parent to my sister and I. And despite having heard them umpteen times (indeed, despite living through a lot of them) they never get old.
The first book I ever read by myself were the Milly Molly Mandy stories by Joyce Lancaster Brisley. Absolutely nothing happens in these stories - the stories are entitled things like "Milly Molly Mandy goes for a walk" or "Milly Molly Mandy earns a penny" but I LOVED them. So much so that when told I could name our cat, I chose (you guessed it) Milly Molly Mandy.
I read everything as a child - the Narnia books, everything by Enid Blyton (the Magic Faraway Tree - oh the joy!) Jacqueline Wilson, Joan Aitken, Roald Dahl, Lynne Reid Banks, anything illustrated by Quentin Blake or Shirley Hughes, Peter Pan, Swallows and Amazons, Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass, any stories by Louise M Alcott, Mark Twain, E. Nesbit, I could literally go on for pages. Even now, if I'm ill or homesick the only things that can really make a difference is a Harry Potter or One Hundred and One Dalmations.
Since going to university (to read English) I not only accumulated a LOT more books, but I also became much more restricted on space. Student houses are not renowned for their size or grandeur, and nor are books known for their mobility - in fact they are the most difficult things to move due to their volume and weight.
So over the last few years more and more crates have appeared at my parent's house, and I have managed to keep the amount of literature in each of my various flats to an almost well-controlled minimum.
But now I have a flat with the boyfriend. A whole flat, not just a room in a flat which is our home. And (after many an evening of swearing and sweating) he has lovingly put up shelves, and driven crate after crate of books from Queen's Park to Battersea and finally, after nearly 6 years I have been able to unpack my little library.
It filled an evening (I don't have THAT many - I just kept getting distracted by things I hadn't seen or forgotten about) unpacking them, and ordering them to my satisfaction. The Boyfriend did try to help with this bit, but seeing as my sorting process follows no traditional method (alphabetical, chronological, etc) and is all down to personal preference, the poor boy was on a losing side.
The shelves are now done, and filled. And the living room, my living room finally, finally feels like home.
I have always loved stories. One of the first things I learnt to say was "tell me a story". My poor father has told me more or less every single significant (and many many more insignificant) details from his childhood, adolescence, university life, even life as a parent to my sister and I. And despite having heard them umpteen times (indeed, despite living through a lot of them) they never get old.
The first book I ever read by myself were the Milly Molly Mandy stories by Joyce Lancaster Brisley. Absolutely nothing happens in these stories - the stories are entitled things like "Milly Molly Mandy goes for a walk" or "Milly Molly Mandy earns a penny" but I LOVED them. So much so that when told I could name our cat, I chose (you guessed it) Milly Molly Mandy.
I read everything as a child - the Narnia books, everything by Enid Blyton (the Magic Faraway Tree - oh the joy!) Jacqueline Wilson, Joan Aitken, Roald Dahl, Lynne Reid Banks, anything illustrated by Quentin Blake or Shirley Hughes, Peter Pan, Swallows and Amazons, Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass, any stories by Louise M Alcott, Mark Twain, E. Nesbit, I could literally go on for pages. Even now, if I'm ill or homesick the only things that can really make a difference is a Harry Potter or One Hundred and One Dalmations.
Since going to university (to read English) I not only accumulated a LOT more books, but I also became much more restricted on space. Student houses are not renowned for their size or grandeur, and nor are books known for their mobility - in fact they are the most difficult things to move due to their volume and weight.
So over the last few years more and more crates have appeared at my parent's house, and I have managed to keep the amount of literature in each of my various flats to an almost well-controlled minimum.
But now I have a flat with the boyfriend. A whole flat, not just a room in a flat which is our home. And (after many an evening of swearing and sweating) he has lovingly put up shelves, and driven crate after crate of books from Queen's Park to Battersea and finally, after nearly 6 years I have been able to unpack my little library.
It filled an evening (I don't have THAT many - I just kept getting distracted by things I hadn't seen or forgotten about) unpacking them, and ordering them to my satisfaction. The Boyfriend did try to help with this bit, but seeing as my sorting process follows no traditional method (alphabetical, chronological, etc) and is all down to personal preference, the poor boy was on a losing side.
The shelves are now done, and filled. And the living room, my living room finally, finally feels like home.
Monday, 8 November 2010
The flat
So we have been living in the flat for just over a week. And it acutally looks like a home. Even the second bedroom (previously not dissimilar to a scene from Baghdad) looks like a normal (if rather messy) bedroom.
We are still missing a lot of stuff (wardrobe, curtains, bin and bathmat for bathroom - you know the things) but perhaps the main thing we (well, I) am desperate for are shelves. I come from a family of readers (and 4 literature degrees, including my own) and accumulate approximately 4-8books a month. I literally have crates of books (21 to be exact) and at the moment they are the main culprit for the state of the second bedroom.
My father's DIY skills rival those of a meerkat. They are non-existant. And should he ever attempt anything, the mess and destruction and temper that follows really do not make it worth it.
On the other hand, the Boyfriend's father is some sort of DIY diva. He can do anything, has a shed of power tools, and the patience of a saint (this is clearly the main component lacking in my own father).
So on Sunday the Boyfriend's dad popped over with several crates of scary looking tools, and settled down to teach the Boyfriend the ins and outs of shelf building.
It took a LONG time. After half an hour, with still absolutely no prospect of getting out the big drill (they were still measuring and drawing piddly lines with a special pencil and holding a spirit level (?) - sounded like something out of cheerleader film Bring It On) I got bored and started to watch X factor on catch-up.
Another hour later, and STILL no drilling. Patience is definitely a virtue in DIY.
By about 7pm the Boyfriend's dad went home, leaving the Boyfriend alone with the power tools. By 8pm we had no shelves, a lot of holes in the wall, and just three out of a potential 12 brackets hanging precariously out of the wall. The aura of calm had disappeared.
We have done nothing since. So the visually pleasing aspect of living room is no more. Although the Boyfriend does have today off, so they might be up and finished when I get home. Or I shall return to further destruction and a boyfriend with a temperament similar to mine with PMT. Wish me luck.
We are still missing a lot of stuff (wardrobe, curtains, bin and bathmat for bathroom - you know the things) but perhaps the main thing we (well, I) am desperate for are shelves. I come from a family of readers (and 4 literature degrees, including my own) and accumulate approximately 4-8books a month. I literally have crates of books (21 to be exact) and at the moment they are the main culprit for the state of the second bedroom.
My father's DIY skills rival those of a meerkat. They are non-existant. And should he ever attempt anything, the mess and destruction and temper that follows really do not make it worth it.
On the other hand, the Boyfriend's father is some sort of DIY diva. He can do anything, has a shed of power tools, and the patience of a saint (this is clearly the main component lacking in my own father).
So on Sunday the Boyfriend's dad popped over with several crates of scary looking tools, and settled down to teach the Boyfriend the ins and outs of shelf building.
It took a LONG time. After half an hour, with still absolutely no prospect of getting out the big drill (they were still measuring and drawing piddly lines with a special pencil and holding a spirit level (?) - sounded like something out of cheerleader film Bring It On) I got bored and started to watch X factor on catch-up.
Another hour later, and STILL no drilling. Patience is definitely a virtue in DIY.
By about 7pm the Boyfriend's dad went home, leaving the Boyfriend alone with the power tools. By 8pm we had no shelves, a lot of holes in the wall, and just three out of a potential 12 brackets hanging precariously out of the wall. The aura of calm had disappeared.
We have done nothing since. So the visually pleasing aspect of living room is no more. Although the Boyfriend does have today off, so they might be up and finished when I get home. Or I shall return to further destruction and a boyfriend with a temperament similar to mine with PMT. Wish me luck.
Presents
Since moving in with the Boyfriend people have been incredibly generous. It is totally and utterly not expected, but absolutely lovely, and greatly appreciated.
We have had gifts ranging from a hoover, iron, ironing board and various cleaning products/potions (the Boyfriend's mother), to a bed, wine rack and chest of drawers (my parents - although a lot of that has been inadvertantly stolen from various unused bedrooms) to rice bowls (lovely girl at work) and champagne flutes (old housemate). We've had flowers and plants and vouchers and cards galore, and the Boyfriend's sister (same age as my own) gave us a significant sum to spend in a well known home store, which really was incredibly touching.
On the other hand, my sister gave us..... the Harry Potter boxset. The Boyfriend has never even seen a trailer, let alone one of the films all the way through. So really it was just a big juicy present for myself. And I am faintly ashamed to say that I think it is my favourite.
We have had gifts ranging from a hoover, iron, ironing board and various cleaning products/potions (the Boyfriend's mother), to a bed, wine rack and chest of drawers (my parents - although a lot of that has been inadvertantly stolen from various unused bedrooms) to rice bowls (lovely girl at work) and champagne flutes (old housemate). We've had flowers and plants and vouchers and cards galore, and the Boyfriend's sister (same age as my own) gave us a significant sum to spend in a well known home store, which really was incredibly touching.
On the other hand, my sister gave us..... the Harry Potter boxset. The Boyfriend has never even seen a trailer, let alone one of the films all the way through. So really it was just a big juicy present for myself. And I am faintly ashamed to say that I think it is my favourite.
Sunday, 7 November 2010
Queenstown Road eateries
Since moving to a new place (albeit, less than 20minutes from my former location) the Boyfriend and I have decided that we must try out as many of the new establishments near us as possible.
On night one, we went to Bangkok Boulevard - a delicious Thai place on Lavender Hill. Despite not getting there until half 10pm, it was still lively. They brought over some really yummy prawn crackers (Thai style, so drier and less greasy than Chinese ones). We shared a starter of steamed pork and prawn dumplings, which were YUM (especially when washed down with Champagne - we had to have something to celebrate with). Then I had a chilli and garlic prawn stirfry with Jasmine rice. The Boyfriend had sticky rice and a spicy beef stirfry. The food was quick, piping hot and full of flavour - totally delicious and exactly what we needed.
We then tested a roast at The Victoria on Queenstown Road. Tender beef, crispy yorkshires, amazing homemade stuffing... the perfect hangover cure.
This week we went to Sultan's Kitchen - a curry house, again on Queenstown Road. Now, in the past we have had a few issues with curry houses, so much so we had given up, and only ever had curry when in Croydon, and could get a takeaway. Well, we have now found one that is not only tasty, but also remarkably cheap (poppadums, curry, rice, drinks = £25. Bargain).
Elephant on The Hill for a roast. Very tasty (but maybe not quite as good as the Victoria) but the staff were HOPELESS. Our food took over an hour, we were asked just once if we wanted more drinks, and it took half an hour to get the dessert menus, let alone the desserts themselves.
I have constructed a comprehensive list of other places to visit, including the Cake Boutique (you can design your own cakes! and they also sell a remarkable array of yummy teatime treats), San Gennaro (a highly recommended Italian) Le Pot Lyonniase (fun looking French Bistro) and the Boyfrind is DESPERATE to go to Santa Maria del Sur (apparently the best steak house in London) although that one may have to wait as sadly, I don't really like steak....
On night one, we went to Bangkok Boulevard - a delicious Thai place on Lavender Hill. Despite not getting there until half 10pm, it was still lively. They brought over some really yummy prawn crackers (Thai style, so drier and less greasy than Chinese ones). We shared a starter of steamed pork and prawn dumplings, which were YUM (especially when washed down with Champagne - we had to have something to celebrate with). Then I had a chilli and garlic prawn stirfry with Jasmine rice. The Boyfriend had sticky rice and a spicy beef stirfry. The food was quick, piping hot and full of flavour - totally delicious and exactly what we needed.
We then tested a roast at The Victoria on Queenstown Road. Tender beef, crispy yorkshires, amazing homemade stuffing... the perfect hangover cure.
This week we went to Sultan's Kitchen - a curry house, again on Queenstown Road. Now, in the past we have had a few issues with curry houses, so much so we had given up, and only ever had curry when in Croydon, and could get a takeaway. Well, we have now found one that is not only tasty, but also remarkably cheap (poppadums, curry, rice, drinks = £25. Bargain).
Elephant on The Hill for a roast. Very tasty (but maybe not quite as good as the Victoria) but the staff were HOPELESS. Our food took over an hour, we were asked just once if we wanted more drinks, and it took half an hour to get the dessert menus, let alone the desserts themselves.
I have constructed a comprehensive list of other places to visit, including the Cake Boutique (you can design your own cakes! and they also sell a remarkable array of yummy teatime treats), San Gennaro (a highly recommended Italian) Le Pot Lyonniase (fun looking French Bistro) and the Boyfrind is DESPERATE to go to Santa Maria del Sur (apparently the best steak house in London) although that one may have to wait as sadly, I don't really like steak....
Fireworks. Part 1
Friday was Bonfire Night. Which, despite being in my mid-20s, still fills me with an inordinate amount of excitement. We got all wrapped up (a little unnecessarily as it was acutally incredibly warm) and wandered up to Clapham Common. It was a free fireworks display, and really rather good. It was over 20minutes and there were so seriously big bangs.
Next weekend the Boyfriend and I are going to stay in Rye with my parents. And we are attending Rye Fawkes - their equivalent Bonfire Night. Apparently it is a little overwhelming as people march through the streets carrying flaming torches. I'm bringing some sparklers so I'll let you know how I fit in...
Next weekend the Boyfriend and I are going to stay in Rye with my parents. And we are attending Rye Fawkes - their equivalent Bonfire Night. Apparently it is a little overwhelming as people march through the streets carrying flaming torches. I'm bringing some sparklers so I'll let you know how I fit in...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
