Having Reservations...

Yesterday I went out with some friends of mine to see a show followed by some drinks and dinner. 

We had a great time. Handbagged was witty, topical and a lot of fun and with a few drinks under our belts (there may have been three grapefruit Cosmopolitans involved...for me), we expected that dinner at American-eatery-in-Soho, Jackson and Rye, would contribute some worthy state-side vittels to finish off our evening. 

And the verdict? My inaugural grits (a kind of polenta porridge) were weird, pleasant-ish but not right with shrimps, my sea bass with apple and fennel slaw was light and lovely and the pecan pie was mmm...mmm scrumptious!

But I digress. You see, Jackson and Rye don't take reservations which is a pet peeve of mine. And I am coming across this situation in London with greater and greater frequency. 

A catch-up dinner with a friend at no-bookings Italian 'tapas' joint Polpo last year was planned around being there just before 7pm to ensure we got a table rather than when we were actually hungry or what was convenient for us. And looking for somewhere to eat after the theatre with Lil Chicky last October was fraught with queue after queue.

(We eventually found a table at Tuttons right on Covent Garden which was lovely...and for future reference, book-able.)

I remember when Jamie Oliver opened his sans booking restaurant chain Jamie's Italian in 2008 and we thought we'd head down to the one in Kingston to give it a try. We queued outside - no room inside for waiting - for a barely acceptable 15 minutes. I've been to Jamie's Italian once since when we were lucky to have only a five minute wait. 

To say I was put off is putting it mildly. I accept that if I haven't booked then I have to take what I can get but this we-don't-take-bookings nonsense is all getting a bit much for me. I don't want to have to trawl Soho post-show because of this growing 'no booking' policy. What ever happened to looking after the customer? Couldn't they at least allow some tables to be booked, leaving some free for these apparently all-important walk-ins?

Polpo's website offers an explanation of sorts, saying that their casual Venetian 'bacaros' are designed to encourage the locals to pop in for a bite to eat and to build a sense of community amongst their regulars. There are 3 Polpos and 1 Polpetto in Central London, none of which take bookings. Who are these 'locals' I wonder?

In any case it would appear these places are doing rather well and that the standing in line has become a badge of honour - after all, if you've queued (or waited in the bar) for at least an hour, the food had better be rave-worthy, or at least good enough for you to tell everyone about. I don't know about you but after an hour, my palate becomes a little less discerning, swamped by a-drink-(or two)-while-I-waited or the sounds of my stomach growling with hunger...or both.

Luckily last night's drinks were at one of our favourite drinking holes, the Freedom Bar, just two doors down from Jackson and Rye so The Umpire kindly did a recce before we gave up our pre-dinner perch. And the meal was delicious.

But if I'm really honest, I have my reservations as to how long I really would have waited for it.

A Town Called Snohomish...

I have been travelling this week and with work taking me to the US of A for a few days of meetings, I decided to add a few days more and pay a visit to Team-M in Seattle. 

It's been eight months since I last saw Seattle-A and all of her boys and while I turned up ready for an intensive cuddle top up, as far as the little dudes went, well young memories are not so long it seems and it's taken few hours before screaming and suspicious looks were replaced by a cuddle (O) and cheeky grin or two (R).

Today was crisp, cold and clear so we bundled everyone into the car and headed off to the small historic township of Snohomish. Yes, it is a real town, founded in the mid-1800s with a population of less than 10,000 people (2010 census). 

Anyway I felt the afternoon was already looking promising when we crossed paths with this Waffle Wagon on the way there...

...so as soon as we arrived it was off to the Snohomish Bakery for a spot of lunch.

We then meandered down the main street, lined with antique shops and stores exhorting passersby to 'buy local'. The flat-fronted buildings really gave it an old frontier town feel and I particularly liked these two.

A short stroll off the Main Street gave us a different perspective on the town, surrounded as it was by stark and beautifully pristine scenery...

...while this totem by the water presumably gave a nod to the local Native American tribe, sdoh-doh-hohsh, for whom the township was named.

And just as we were heading back to the car, we came across the Snohomish Pie Company. It would have been rude not to pop in, so we did emerging five minutes later with a bag of goodly vittels and some words of wisdom...

...and yes, yes it did. That chocolate pecan pie did indeed fix everything (including fixing a few more lifetimes on my hips!)

So that folks was my afternoon in Snohomish. Now, back to Operation Cuddles...

Sour Grapes...

It's the 1st of February. Where did January go for heavens sake? It's only just begun and the year is already whizzing by.

As promised, with the heralding of the new month comes the next installment of the 2014 Calendar Challenge and February's funny finds inspiration in the language of our childhood...

Image Source: Simon Drew's Famous Phrases Calendar 2014

Now come on admit it. Your pre-school world was full of moo-cows and baa-lambs wasn't it...

Anyway the sketch of these woolly warmers gassing over a vino or two reminds me that today is National Pisco Sour Day.

I know. Who knew?

Pisco is a powerful grape brandy created by both the Peruvians and the Chileans and forms the basis of the potent Pisco Sour cocktail. Each nation has a slightly different recipe but Peru pay homage to their national tipple on the first Saturday in February - today. And if you are in London, the kind folk at Londonist have published a list where you can sample the best/most authentic manifestations of this South American delight - just click here. If not, you'll have to google your own list.

I first discovered the joys of pisco during a girls night out at the then newly opened Ceviche Peruvian Bar and Kitchen in London about 18 months ago but rather than sour grapes, it was passion that I found at the bar. Or rather Pasion de Ceviche: A delicious blend of ginger-infused pisco, passionfruit juice, prickly pear liqueur and honey that was so smooth and delicious I had four that night, firstly transferring from an early allegiance to Toro Mata (a cocktail combo of coffee, pisco and sugar syrup) and then duly convincing my three cocktail-ing compatriots to join me.

Unsurprisingly sour grapes were in short supply at our table that night.

Note to self: Must go back. Soon.

In other alcoholic news, just yesterday Lil Chicky posted this on Facebook...

 Buy this at http://www.flaschengeist.com.au/

It's chocolate port...in a glass shoe-boot. 

*Excited squealing*

What's a girl to do? It's just leading this 'sweet' Aussie lamb to alcoholic slaughter.

Baaa-mmer hey...

A Litany On London Largesse...

Since coming back from holidays just over five weeks ago, I have been struck by how many great things there are to do in London, particularly when it comes to activities of the stage variety. And I have to admit that I've been a little lax in sharing this largesse with my lovely Gidday-ers so I thought I'd make this post a litany of my recent cultural adventures.

I'd been back not much more than a week when I popped down to Sadlers Wells to see Matthew Bourne's Sleeping Beauty. Regular readers might remember my first Matthew Bourne experience last year and I was really looking forward to his take on this traditional tale.

And I was not disappointed. A combination of modern irreverance and gothic spirit cast their magic over the story and I found myself enchanted by Bourne's mastery all over again. There were moments of laughter and darkness and beauty throughout and I left the auditorium wondering whether I'd get an opportunity to see the balance of Bourne's Tchaikovsky triumvirate - Swan Lake and The Nutcracker - anytime soon. Sleeping Beauty has left Sadler's Wells and is touring so you may have the chance to see it somewhere near you.

Sunday before last I went to see Argentinian company Tango Fire's show, Flames of Desire. This had been inspired by a half price ticket deal in The Metro on my morning commute earlier the same week. 

For two hours the auditorium thrummed with passionate pas de deux, fleet feet and erotic attitude as the five couples, musicians and a rather smooth crooner brought the milonga (late night dance hall of Buenos Aires) to life. It was heart-stoppingly, breath-takingly brilliant. And when the cast - musicians, singer and dancers - took their curtain calls at the end, their absolute delight in the thunderous applause from the audience was as wonderful to see as the performance they had just given us.

And most recently, it was dinner and a show last Friday night with a friend. Again a deal dropped into my lap a couple of weeks ago and after a fabulous feed at Italian restaurant  Polpo near Carnaby Street, we took our seats for the greatest of musicals, A Chorus Line. 

While I'd seen the 1985 movie starrring Michael Douglas, I'd never seen the show. I am thrilled to report that this oversight has been corrected.

Because thrilled I was.

Every foot-tapping, fractious moment held me in thrall. The individual stories laid bare on the stage before the darkened auditorium: the pert, the cynical, the world-weary and the hopeful. The rediscovery of tunes I knew but had buried themselves in my memory. The cleverness of the choreography, entwining itself around the differences in shape, size, style and attitude of each dancer to create a whole truly greater than the sum of its parts.

And the culmination of all of this in the finale, 'One'. One moment in the presence of an amazing cast and the most quintessential show tune of all time - a 'singular sensation' of glamour and celebration and synergy. Which took A Chorus Line to my all-time top 3, sharing my trinity of musical favourites with Les Miserables and Chicago.

Such is London's largesse that I've managed to see all of these in the space of a month. Life may not always arrange itself so supportively - and cost-effectively - around my cultural interests, but let me assure you that I intend to grab every 'moment'.

Tis The Season...Party Feet

With the big day fast approaching (only 17 sleeps to go peeps), attention has suddenly turned to collaborations of the festive kind. And this week has seen me celebrating with considerable commitment to the Christmas cause, the result being that I am ensconsed on the comfy couch at Gidday HQ today after last night's work Christmas party. Amongst today's priorities is resting my aching feet, having kicked off my dancing shoes *slash* drinking boots in the early hours of this morning before pouring myself into bed.

It was a fabulous night, starting with a drinks-style mingle (with a spot of champers, of course) and delicious dinner table conversation under the majestic Rubenesque ceiling of the Banqueting House in Westminster. Commissioned by King Charles I and installed by Inigo Jones, the ceiling comprises the only canvasses from the old Whitehall Palace to remain in situ. Flemish painter Peter Paul Rubens painted them in his studio in Antwerp, shipped them across for installation in March 1636 and was paid the princely sum of £3,000 for his efforts.

Eyes up at dinner - what a spectacular view!

After dinner it was down to the Undercroft for a spot of drinking dancing. Designed as a drinking den (how appropriate!) for James I, the area went on to host lotteries after his death, which sounds kind of akin to some (alright, most) of the moves on show under the temporary disco lights last night. And a big shout out to DJ Jeff who kept the floor packed with swinging, singing partygoers - and at whose feet I lay the blame entirely for my scratchy throat and tender tootsies.

But this was not the only celebratory collaboration as earlier this week, we turned to team-building of a whole different kind. On Tuesday night we found ourselves in the south London suburb of Wandsworth for a night of culinary negotiation at Venturi's Table. Split into three teams, we kneaded, chopped, stirred, dipped, chatted and laughed under the careful supervision of Anna Venturi's team of patient chefs before sitting down to a fabulous three course meal - fresh pasta, chicken ballotine and a super-scrummy pannetone pudding. Oh and a few drinks. (There may also have been a bit of singing. Yes it's true.) This is not the first time I've done something like this (see my post on Hot Chicks & Hens) and let me just say right here and now, it won't be my last. It is such fantastic fun.

And last but by no means least, I managed to squeeze in a catch up with three colleagues from workdays past and over a bottle of wine (or two) and a cheap and cheerful meal at my local Italian, we shared the news, reflected on 2012 and speculated on what changes 2013 might bring.

It starts again this week so right now, I'm feeling rather grateful for today's respite. But not for too long. After all, it is the season to be jolly...

...and my drinking boots still have plenty of tread.

Going Global...

Here we are at the last bank holiday in the UK before Christmas and I am ensconsed at Gidday HQ catching up on a whole lot of the must dos after a few days of fun to-dos (and not a small amount of alcohol). The washing machine is whirring in the background, the ironing pile is lurking within eye-shot - which I must address one way or the other (ie. iron or put away in the cupboard) - the UKHot40 is playing on the telly and my water bottle is within reach.

So let's start with Saturday: a day of short sunny bursts and bouts of torrential rain under a largely grey sky. And an evening of cocktails and mighty fine cuisine as four work friends painted the heart of London's Soho multicultural - at a Peruvian restaurant. This is what happens when a Turk, a German, a Frenchwoman and an Aussie, all obsessed with food, get their heads together for a girl's night out.

After a flurry of emails late on Saturday afternoon, a plan was hatched and a few hours later, four happy expat ladies were sitting at the bar in Ceviche, watching the intermittent drizzle against the window with cocktails in hand. Ceviche is new to the London restaurant scene, having only opened in February this year, and has had some terrific reviews (including one by yours truly over on Weekend Notes after our super Saturday soiree). I won't repeat here what you'll find elsewhere - suffice to say we left four very happy ladies. And it wasn't just the cocktails.

Sunday morning dawned and after a kick-start of croissants, coffee and copious amounts of water - how is it that so much drinking can be so dehydrating - I was off again, this time to the Edinboro' Castle in Camden for a farewell do.

You see, in just under two weeks time, A-used-to-be-down-the-hill will become Seattle-A. Yes, she and hubster are moving state-side to the land of the free, the home of the brave and city of highest rate of sunglasses purchases per capita in the US. They've bought a fabulous new pad, booked the movers and are starting their own round robin of goodbyes to old London town.

And yesterday, under the canopy of trees in the sun-dappled beer garden at the Edinboro' Castle, was a gathering of their wonderful circle of friends. Almost ten hours of repartee and reminiscing, of howls of laughter and a little just-between-friends political incorrectness, of re-connecting and fond farewells, to wish them well in this next exciting chapter...and to book our respective berths at Palazzo Seattle.

So this weekend has been a poignant reminder of the power of my expat friendships, both old and new, and the importance of trusting my instincts in reaching out amongst the myriad of connections I make each day, week, month, year.

Saturday night heralded the start of a 'four girls from four nations' friendship.

And while my own personal farewell with A is still to come, Sunday was a celebration of a friendship that began just two weeks into my expat journey. That's more than eight years of life in the UK together. Opening the pages of this next chapter in our friendship has me feeling a little sad, but excited about the possibilities that will follow for both of us. 

You see we, my friends, are going global.

The Land Sans The Long Black...

This morning I met up with an Aussie friend of mine for brunch. S travels a lot for work and since he has the next 2 weeks in London before his next round of jet-setting, we decided to grab the bull by the horns - so to speak - and catch up over some scrumptious vittels and good coffee at The Modern Pantry in Clerkenwell.

S and I used to work together and as such, he is a fellow afficionado of both the Melbourne coffee scene and that bastion of Italian yummy-ness, Lygon Street. Way back when we worked together, we were fortunate enough to share premises with the barista training school of a very well-known Italian coffee brand. As such, there was no schlepping around with freeze-dried instant or filter coffee for us. It was punchy espresso with gorgeous caramel-coloured crema, warm milky-smooth lattes and luscious foamy (not frothy people - there's a world of difference) cappuccinos. Let me tell you, we knew our Robusta from our Arabica.

Then we came to London. And caffeine confusion reigned.

You see there are two types of coffee that are ubiquitous in the Land Down Under (and for that matter, in the Land of the Long White Cloud) but as rare as hen's teeth in Ol' Blighty. 

The first is the Flat White. It lies somewhere between a warm milky latte (a flat white has less milk and is served hot) and the foaming cappuccino (the flat white has less/no foam). It's hard to find in London but with the likes of The Australian Times providing a handy list of good flat white-rs in London Town alongside a little Antipodean word-of-mouth, it's possible. But most places here will translate the Flat White into a white coffee (a black coffee with cold milk), completely ignoring the craft of creating a steaming Long Black before adding a large dollop of warm milk.

Which brings me to my second point - the Long Black. In non-barista terms, it's a shot of espresso poured into hot water to preserve the crema.

Simple right? Not nearly as complicated as the Flat White one would think.

But apparently so.

Just ask for a Long Black here and watch the bewilderment appear across the face of one's waiter. Then try to explain it ie. a shot of espresso with hot water (and that's not getting into the size of the cup it should come in). In most places, the response is 'oh so you want a black coffee?' No. Not if you are going to stick my cup under the coffee filter for 5 minutes.

Some will respond by correcting you calling it an Americano, grinning proudly at you as they successfully navigate the lingo of yet another of the half million or so Antipodean immigrants living in London. Well no actually - but at this stage, an espresso topped up with hot water is starting to sound like an acceptable (and considerably less stressful) compromise.

But all I really want is a proper Long Black. I want a lovely shot of espresso - that's right, like you normally give one who orders an espresso - poured into the cup with hot water. Rich and smooth with a velvety crema. No bitterness, no acrid aftertaste. Understated yet still packing a caffeine punch.

Just like the one this morning.

Anna Hansen may have been 'chef-fing' all over the globe - and let me tell you the food was really, really good - but for the coffee alone , The Modern Pantry gets my vote.

Smooth, rich and velvety. Exactly the way I like it.

Nuremberg Post Script...

So last we corresponded I'd been in Nuremberg and I revealed that there had been some wining, dining and generally sociable behaviour. I also mentioned we'd been to Peruvian restaurant, El Encanto to celebrate a busy and successful week.

The following is the result of what happens when combining two hysterical tired females with cocktails and arm them with a camera while they are impatiently waiting for their food....

My small contribution to Movember...

These napkin rings look like ears!

Look pigtails! (aka Heidi Hair, the closest I'm likely to get...)

Bringing out my inner devil...

Here endeth the lesson.


London...On The Cheap(side)...

I had lunch with some great friends of mine today who moved to the UK permanently two and half years ago. We were chatting about how long it takes to feel 'settled' and they reminded me that, in their early expat days, I had said to them that it took me somewhere between 18 months to two years before I'd started to feel like I had actually 'built' a life for myself versus the feeling of being a long staying tourist.

Did I really say that?  I can't really remember...

But what I do remember is my initial shock at how expensive things were and a big part of feeling 'settled' for me was finding ways to do things cheaply - most expats in the UK can reel off a whole variety of discount 'opportunities' - and I soon learned that if you look hard enough, there are lots of ways to do this.

For example, today's lunch included a 50% discount off the food bill and was booked through toptable...and my travel to our fab foodie feast was courtesy of Oystercard (which almost halves the bus fare).  I have also booked a 70min massage for a few weeks time through Groupon at a whopping 66% off and I have had countless 2-for-1 meals with friends using vouchers from newspapers like the Metro, email newsletters (Giraffe, gbk and Pizza Express are particular faves) and voucher websites like vouchercloud and vouchers.co.uk.

So the key to London 'on the cheap' is this - Sign up for as many things as you can.  You may fill your inbox to overflowing but when it comes to getting the deals, it really is a numbers game.

And you can also rest assured in the knowledge that you'll never go hungry - if all else fails, supermarket-brand baked beans are only 19p a can!

Ker-ching!

ps...for you Londoners that might be interested in some terrific Turkish fare, get yourself down to Cirrik in Richmond...via toptable of course!

Life is Sweet...One For The Girls...

Following our nefarious shopping adventures of yesterday, we were off this morning for some serious pampering...here's the short version of what happened...

There were massage chairs...one for each of us...

(Look at those very smiley faces...aaaahhhh!)

...and much scrubbing, rubbing and painting to produce very pretty paws.

 

It was then time for a tad more shopping followed by some sweet, sweet sustenance at Theobroma Chocolate Lounge...here's the short version (again) of what happened...

Before, there were chocolate covered waffles and ice-cream...

Later, the chocolate covered waffles and ice-cream were gone...

...and then there were two extremely satisfied (if slightly nauseous) customers.

So definitely a day of sweet treats for the girls...

...and for any of you blokes who happened to read this post all the way through, I can only salute you for your patience / curiosity / ability to be in touch with your feminine side!

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous...

A significant part of squiring said Mother and partner around town is weaving an interesting (and largely unplanned) trail of meals and snacks.  Last Sunday we were off to tackle tourist things again and after another excellent trip on the London Eye (my 4th), we were somewhat stymied in our plans to visit Westminster Abbey and St Pauls Cathedral (apparently they do services, being Sunday and all, and out of respect, rubber-neckers are not welcome...) and decided to console ourselves by lunching at the cafe in the Methodist Central Hall Westminster, just opposite Westminster Abbey (http://www.c-h-w.com/cafe/index.shtml).  So down to the 'crypt' we went...to be surprised and thoroughly delighted by nice comfy seats and delicious great value food (my pollock in courgette and mushroom was fantastic and the roast of the day looked excellent too)...with drinks it was all about £7-8 each...what a bargain!

Later in the afternoon, having made our way to that other great London tourist mecca, Harrods, we stopped for a coffee in the Ca'puccino cafe down in the gift shop.  It's got these really awesome white Alice in Wonderland chairs and an extremely indulgent list of coffees...anyway, we decided to lash out on a Custard Cream coffee (him), a Pannacotta coffee (said Mother) and something that I couldn't pronounce that had layered liquid dark chocolate, coffee and soya (to replace the milk).  They came in glasses not much bigger than something that you'd swig a large shot of tequila from (which, in deliciously rich hindsight, was about all we could manage anyway) and were so-o-o pretty to look at...the bill, on the other hand, came to about £16.

And like naughty children, we loved every sublime minute...

Happy Days...

So Mum is here for a visit and since her (and her partner Alan's) arrival last Wednesday, it has been a busy time with little chance of the daily blogs I'd planned to keep you all appraised of our Days Out (and In)...so here's a little summary thus far...

Wednesday - Arrival Day
Much chatting and catching up over their best coffees since the start of their trip on May 9th (Go London...yeah!).  Checking them into the local hotel, marvelling at how big the room is compared to everything else they have stayed in and then off to The Boaters Inn on the riverbank in Kingston to eat fish and chips, drink wine and gaze dreamily at the Thames (which, on Wednesday, was dappled in soft Autumn sunshine).  My specialty Spag Bol for dinner...with more wine.

Thursday - Lewes-and-Brighton Day

Off to the county town of Lewes this morning to see all the places that Alan remembered from his childhood there...as with all nostalgic meanderings, he said everything seemed a lot smaller than he remembered.  We also walked around the castle, through the gardens at Southover Grange and visited Anne of Cleves cottage before walking back up Keere Street...very steep cobbled street that apparently the Prince Regent who became King George IV drove his carriage down on the strength of a dare...and they say his father was the mad one! 

Then it was on to Brighton and a visit to the Royal Pavilion, the pleasure palace of King George IV whilst he was Prince Regent (is there a recurring theme of reckless behaviour here?) This was my second visit and I had forgotten how truly spectacular and OTT this place was so def. worth visiting and taking the audio guide on your visit.  We then wandered along Brighton Pier before deciding that we were rather peckish so we found a fab Italian place in Brighton's The Lanes and waddled out of there for the drive home at about 8.  Speaking of the drive home, we had a little trouble finding the turn off back to the main road and took a scenic drive along the coast for a while hoping to find another connecting road...Plan A having failed abysmally, we turned around, drove back to Newhaven and found the turn off...

Friday - Hop-On-Hop-Off-Bus Day
Friday was tourist day in the capital and I have to say that I enjoyed the top deck of the hop-on-hop-off bus very much...it was really quite relaxing to be absolved of the need to take any photos (because it wasn't all new and overwhelming like last time) and to just enjoy the ride in the sunshine (yes, sunshine again!  Very blessed we were...)  After a couple of hours of winding our way through the busy streets, we 'hopped off' at The Tower of London with enough time for lunch at gbk (scrumptious burgers) before meeting the Yeoman Warder (more widely known as Beefeaters) for our guided tour.  He had a few grisly stories to share, a typically English (dry) sense of humour and a 'way' with the ladies...but did you know that they come highly qualified for the job?  They have to have served a minimum of 22 years in the Army, Air Force or Marines and have reached the position of Sergeant Major and they (all 35 of them) live in the Tower of London with their families until retirement at 65...needless to say they kind of inspire 'good behaviour'!

We then 'hopped on' a river cruise back to Westminster Pier - more witty commentary and interesting facts - before 'hopping off' and wandering past the Houses of Parliament, up Whitehall (past Downing Street and Royal Horse Guards), into Trafalgar Square and then along Constitution Hill to Buckingham Palace... again I was struck by what an 'ordinary' looking building Buckingham Palace is, particularly when compared with Westminster Palace (aka Houses of Parliament) but if you are ever here in July-August, def. check BH out the inside - it's amaaaaazing!...

...and then the only thing left to do (well that we had any energy left for) was to 'hop on' the bus home....and have Chinese takeaway for dinner...

Saturday - Day-Off Day
Saturday was my relaxing, houseworking, catching up day so J was despatched with said parent and partner to buy satnavs and posting boxes (look out chicky, there are a-comin') before the visitors decamped to Hampton Court Palace nearby...in the drizzle...so I can't really tell you what they got up to other than that there was jousting, a mock wedding and a lost umbrella.  Then it was pizza and Eurovision with J and the kids last night...makes you realise how small these flats really are when there are 6 people in them!

Sunday - Getting-Organised-For-All-The-Other-Days Day
Today the sun has finally broken through the clouds and we are all just puddling around here at the flat and the travellers are having a little breather before they set off on their big NW odyssey tomorrow morning...

So there you have it...a longer blog than usual but consider yourselves updated!

Date Night: Alice & El Peyote...

Being free of any commitments this weekend (beyond chores that is...ugh!), J and I decided that it was time to have a Date Night and what could be a more traditional choice than a movie followed by dinner...

So we hit the cinema for a 3D journey down the rabbit hole with Alice to Wonderland.  All the elements from the original story I remember were there but Tim Burton did amazing things to twist the story and make it more 'grown up' and relevant.  It was a darker Wonderland for sure but the cast was brilliant and the 3D-ness really worked with this flick (unlike Avatar in 3D which left me distinctly under-whelmed).  It always was a slightly 'trippy' story anyway but it does seem that this particular trip is a match made in Tim Burton's style-heaven...go see it on the big screen just for the experience!

And then it was off to a new (Mexi-terranean) restaurant in Kingston, El Peyote.  We found out it had only been open 6 weeks but let's hope it's open a whole lot longer than that because we had the best burritos...ever!  (And my prawn kebab starter - marinated in chilli and lime juice with a mango puree - was pretty scrumptious too.)  Fab food, quirky decor and great service - Long live El Peyote I say!

So that was date night...and now it's Sunday and chores still await. So until next time...

Adios Amigos!

Let Me Eat Cake....

With yesterday afternoon off, I was walking happily down Theobalds Road to start my tube journey home when I decided to return a missed call from my friend-who-became-a-Mum-on-Australia-Day-and-I-haven't-seen-her-since, A.  As it turned out, she was heading in my general homeward direction with baby N so we arranged to meet up half way for a spot of cake and coffee.

Well, it turned out to be a rather LARGE spot...

A has this favourite place for cake & coffee in Fulham called Del Aziz which not only has the most astronomical selection of cakes, pastries, breads, slices, tarts and pies I have ever seen but the slices come in my-eyes-are-too-big-for-my-belly proportions. 

(In mulling over what should make our shortlist, despite it not making it to the Final Cut,  I chose this one to help whet your appetite...

...see what I mean?)

I did not have the presence of mind to take a photo of my particular gastronomic delight but suffice to say it took lingering for 2 hours over both it and some lovely catching-up-and-cooing-over-baby-N conversation to empty the plate...and I enjoyed every richly deliciously scrumptious forkful.

Jealous yet??

On the down side, I did have a bit of a sugar headache and felt slightly ill afterwards.

But only a little bit...

The Adventures of an Emergency Handbag

This weekend I had two days of idle bliss planned - nowhere I had to go or be in particular and a whole lot of rather indulgent reading on the agenda! 

But at 1.30 on Saturday afternoon I got a call, an emergency handbag call requesting my presence that evening as a 'work-do-date'. And far be it from me to disappoint a friend in need: so 2 hours later I found myself driving with my friend A into the wilds (maybe not so wild) of Hampshire to stately home,Tylney Hall.

Gorgeously frosty surrounds made this morning's post-brekky stroll around the grounds (you know, the stroll you need to put a spring in your step after the 'night before') absolutely delightful...beautiful clear skies and a slight mist made it all look a bit ethereal...and we were also fascinated by a few of the more frozen aspects of our little meander!

How's that frozen fountain?  And the frozen puddles? Pretty cool eh?

So despite the short notice and ensuing lack of sleep that followed, it was another fab adventure for this last minute 'date'...you might want to stay tuned for another Emergency Handbag Adventure coming to this blog sometime soon...ish!

News Flash...Elvis Sighting in New Malden...

I caught up with a friend for dinner on Thursday night and she had booked us a table at a local curry place that neither of us had been to before (Sesame in New Malden if you are absolutely dying to know).

So I arrived a little after my friend and as we embraced and said 'hello, it's good to see you' and all that, she tells me that, unbeknownst to her upon booking, tonight Sesame is trialling a little something new to accompany its traditional Indian & Thai menu...

Elvis....

...yes, we looked at each other like that too!

Anyway, we ordered a drink, made our selections from the evening's menu and had started out on almost a year's worth of catching up when all of a sudden there was a flash, and Elvis had entered the building (albeit via the kitchen).  Surrounded by a number of groups celebrating birthdays, Christmas and anything in between, we looked bemusedly at each other, tucked in to some great food - actually the food was fantastic and I want to make sure that I make that point in the midst of all of the wittering on about Elvis - settled in to watch the show.

And what a cracking show it was!  The voice was excellent and Elvis' charm and swagger had us all Returning to Sender and Viva Las Vegas-ing before we knew it.  Hit after well-known hit followed and after an hour of belting out those tunes, Elvis took a little break - which then resulted in some 'here's the highlights' style catching up for us before his imminent return 30mins later.  Another hour of faves ensued - like Suspicious Minds, Burning Love and Can't Help Falling in Love - and it was 11 o'clock when Elvis took his Final Curtin and left the building (again via the kitchen).

So what was supposed to be a sedate catch up between friends turned into a bit of a riot (in a good way of course) and we left agreeing that it was both completely surreal yet fabulous fun.  The compromise we'd had to make on having a good ol' natter was definitely worth it and we might it even make it the next girl's night out that we have!

'Open Sesame' really did produce a gem of a night...

Hot Chicks & Hens...

Last night 10 lovely ladies (or as we prefer, hot chicks) gathered to salute the last single days of our gorgeous girl, A-down-the-hill who, in two weeks time will 'I do' and morph from S...d to M....y-dom.  So how does one do this with appropriate pomp, circumstance and little finesse in this day and age?  Well being a bunch of foodies and self-titled gourmands (ie. basically little piggies), we all went cooking...

The Underground Cookery School lies beneath St Mary's Church just behind Finsbury Circus and London Wall and allows participants to drink, prepare a 3-course meal, drink, eat the meal they have prepared, drink and...drink.  Last night, under the watchful eye of Missa and Happy (our two chefs) we made tagliatelle, sea bream with roasted potatoes and salsa verde, and souffle.  And let me tell you, it got competitive right from the get-go starting with pretty vigorous dough-making and followed by some serious pasta-machine action.  

As with any daunting enterprise (ie. 10 women ranging from mildly tipsy to seriously 'sociable' preparing a 3 course meal that they are willing to eat at the end of it all), an early victory can be quite motivational and cries of success soon filled the room as each of us produced a proud little bundle of pasta ribbons.  So what's next, we asked...

There was sea bream filleting (getting those pesky bones out is more difficult than it looks!) , then tomato-(for the pasta sauce)-and potato-(for the sea bream)-roasting, salsa verde-making (again for the sea bream), Thai green curry prep-ping (for the vegetarians in the group) and finally the piece d'resistance, the raspberry souffle.  But lo and behold, how did that ramekin of salt end up in the saucepan of raspberries - it wouldn't have been one of we enthusiastically helpful ladies who thought it was the sugar that Missa requested, would it??  Just as well Missa had some other fruit 'out the back' so we did not have to go 'souffle-less'.  Dear oh dear...

After over 5 hours of underground cookery and a delicious meal (with more wine), we bid our patient chefs a fond and rather noisy farewell and moved on for a cheeky cocktail at Lounge Lover in nearby Shoreditch and a quick boogie-on-down in Beach Blanket Babylon next door before dispersing for home - which for three of us was a rather nice hotel - Club Quarters opposite Leadenhall Market.  We agreed that this had two distinct advantages: (1) it was significantly better than dealing with a long trip home and a large cab fare and (2) it provided a rather fabulous opportunity to continue our festival of foodie fun into a rather scrumptious breakfast at The Modern Pantry in Clerkenwell (see right).  Seriously people, the best coffee I've had for a long time, really yummy scrambled eggs with haloumi, spinach and tomato and then a shared plate of pancakes with berry compote and creme fraiche...you London-ers reading this must go!

So that's the night (and morning) that was - a tribute to friendship amongst fabulous women and a fitting farewell to singledom for our fair foodie friend.

Cheers....

Angels & Demons...

After being a bit disappointed by the movie version of The Da Vinci Code (particularly after loving the book) it was with a mixture of excitement and apprehension that I entered the darkened cinema on Sunday to see Angels & Demons - the book that came first and the story I loved best. And I am pleased to say that, despite some slight script tampering to pretend that The Da Vinci Code story came first, Ron Howard did a fantastic job. A great race against time with that amazing twist right at the end, we ran all over Rome with Robert Langdon, reading the symbols and absorbed in the 'legend' of the Illuminati right to the end. So exhausted were we from our thrilling adventure that afterwards, we decided to refresh ourselves Italian-style - at Pizza Express. Buona salute!!

To see the trailer itself, just click on the blog post title