Category Archives: food

Aug 24 0 comments
doodlings, fashion, food, music

cleaned a lot of plates in memphis

Oh, how can I make up for the fact that I’ve been absent so long? I haven’t a clue what the answer to that is, but I do hope you’ll forgive me anyway. I haven’t got any fabulous excuse (you know, like moving to New York and being inundated with an exciting flood of work projects, à la Garance (author of the staple in my blog-diet, don’t you know)) except for the small Southern excursion which consisted entirely of cocktails, food, wine and a few sore heads. Oh and the obligatory trip to the haven that is Beyond Retro. Always fruitful.

I haven’t even got any fun things to report since my return (for how much fun can one have when ones hand is permanently attached to the end of an umbrella?). I’m so not up for this winter lark, especially this Northern winter lark. It cuts deeper than this Southern girl can take. I need a new pair of boots and fast.

I’ll be back tomorrow with something worthwhile – promise. Now I’ve got to trudge through the rain to get something or other to put in the fridge, ugh. Meanwhile, below = the most addictive birthday present ever. Thank you, the boy.

philspector1

Apr 15 1 comments
food, music

i was playing soft while bobby sang the blues

Now, I wouldnt want anyone to be under any sort of illusion, so let me make it abundantly clear: it is still very much scarf weather, my friends. Seriously, who are these loons in vests? Vests and sandals. Utter lunacy. I am yet to leave my scarf at home (read: I’m not a loon). The moments of warmth are so dependent on other factors: you must be standing in direct sunlight and firmly out of the wind (and preferably behind glass). If you are lucky enough to find yourself in said moment of warmth, it will be entirely fleeting (and, in fact, it actually feels even nicer when you’ve got your scarf on because then you’re even warmer!).

I don’t want to spend too much time berating the nutters on the street, so allow me to get down to more important things. The Glastonbury line-up has been officially announced today – as in, it’s on the actual Glastonbury website, as opposed to the array of pretend websites which like to spend all year speculating (glastowatch, glastomania, glastoloons etc.). There’s still several TBAs and TBCs and ifs and maybes. I’m mostly underwhelmed, but there’s a few jewels scattered in there (Toots and the Maytals? Yeah, nice one, Eavis. I’ll have that. That’ll do. Ok, I’m done now – won’t be needing to see anyone else, thank you kindly! I’d better get my dance moves brushed up). I’ve said it many times before and I’ll say it again now, I’d probably be one of those loons who would go even if there was no music. What can I say, I’m a sucker for the farm.

Ok, I must go because the kitchen is calling me. I’ve bought some apples, oranges, kiwis, plums and grapes with the intention of peeling/chopping/shaping them into something of a fruit salad! Retro, I know. But I recently realised that I’ve never made a fruit salad in my life and this surely needs to be rectified with immediate effect. And what better day to do it; it’s sunny after all (through the glass) and I’m bound to need more than my five a day to get myself safely through the fiasco on telly this evening – a bunch of loony buffoons bickering like schoolgirls.

the-ska

Mar 28 0 comments
food

away above the chimney tops, that’s where you’ll find me

Sunday, 16:45. (Yeah but, it’s actually 15:45, like, in real time.) My day has so far consisted of the paper, a lengthy catch up with my good friend, who goes by the name of BBC-iplayer, and several mini-eggs too many. I have been left with both a strong desire to watch The Wizard of Oz and with every intention of launching the rest of the mini-eggs off the balcony (this will never happen, fat chance). Did I mention that the duck-egg blue ones are my favourite? I have now.

In other (admittedly more weather-related) news, it’s mega windy outside. Like super ruins-your-hair and chills-you-to-the-bone windy. And it’s Monday tomorrow! Boooo. Way to rain on my mini-eggs. Rather than hiding myself indoors, away from the wind and the imminence of yet another Monday morning, oh how I wish I could be relaxing my wind-chilled bones upon a uniform wicker chair in some casual Parisian cafe, chattering away en Francais between sips of strong coffee, and wearing canary yellow in an expectant ode to summertime…

kaycampbellparisP

Mar 14 0 comments
doodlings, food, music

i use a cobra snake for necktie

Well, my holidays are coming to an abrupt and wholly uninvited end. I’ve had a lovely time, but don’t they go quick? In a flash, one might say. So, in an effort to combat the blues, the countdown to Glastonbury now begins, proper. It’s like 14 weeks away. That’s like nothing. Speaking of which, we booked our coach yesterday (cue lots of excitement about the reality of the situation) – let’s hope it doesn’t take the 15 hours that it did last year (no, seriously, it took fifteen hours, proper), not least because they are showing the football at the Pyramid Stage at 3pm on the Wednesday. I can’t miss it, it wouldn’t be right.

In other news, the wardrobe is still shiningly/spankingly/stupidly tidy. Two plus two definitely equals four in my wardrobe. (If you don’t already know, that was a beautifully subtle reference to the fact that I: a) tidied my wardrobe earlier this week, and b) went to see 1984. Not so subtle anymore, huh?) I hereby vow to run more and shop more. The two are inextricably linked, don’t you know.

So far today I have cooked a pot of chilli (beyond impressive, I know) and bought the paper and April’s Vogue. The boy has tidied my desk for me; it’s ever so immaculate. I love nothing more than an immaculate desk, the Sunday paper, the new Vogue and bowls of fresh chilli! That’s my Sunday afternoon sorted then.

By the way, the soundtrack of the week has been Francoise Hardy mixed with a touch of Bo Diddley. Did you know that no-one makes me want to be French more than Francoise? You do now.

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Bo Diddley

Jan 21 0 comments
food, music

all over people changing their votes, along with their overcoats

There’s not much in the world more satisfying than walking along to the sound of The Clash. It’s (almost) enough to inspire narcissistic tendencies, in an I’m-walking-down-the-street-listening-to-much-better-music-than-you sort of way. It’s definitely enough to make me accidentally take a detour into Zara and buy a cheap, stripy and rather lovely top (admittedly, you can’t really go wrong with anything that’s cheap/stripy/from-Zara) when I was actually on my way to buy apples. Meh. The Clash + the new top + I still got the apples = I’m a winner, regardless of accident.

So, I’ve been away for a few days – I popped down South to help celebrate my Mum’s birthday, which she incidentally shares with Dolly Parton, and (also incidentally) involved extreme levels of indulgence (hence the apples). We celebrated accordingly, as you can imagine, with Dolly on a loop and wine on a loop. Larrrvely. I also managed to get a cheeky hair cut squeezed into the birthday schedule (I’ve lived away for over four years now and have still never had my hair cut in Manchester… I’m sorry, but no-one else is touchin’ my hair, I’m a Leo!) and also, for the first time ever-ever-in-my-whole-life-ever had my hair dyed (yeah, ok, it’s just one of those shampoo-in ones and it’s basically the (exact) same colour as my natural hair but still, it’s a big step!) because the ends were a little bit faded. Faded ends = no, no, no.

As you might expect, I’m feeling quite drastic and spontaneous, what with the dying of the hair and accidental buying of the stripy Zara top, and what could be better, on top of all this, than a compliment? I was walking past the Big Issue man who stands outside Selfridges (uh, the irony) and I got the traditional “Big-issue-love?” and gave back the traditional thanks-for-offering-but-no-thank-you-sorry-it’s-just-I’m-carrying-loads-of-apples knowing smile, and then, once I had passed the Big Issue man and had my back to him, heard the not-so-traditional, “I really like your hair, yeah, I do!”. I spun round and gave him a big smile and a big thank you. Maybe he didn’t mean it (I mean, we are talking mullet here) but whatever, he said it and he didn’t have to and so on. Just like the Barnado’s man the other week, this Big Issue man has made my day.

Well, I hope Dolly had a good birthday and while we’re on the subject of hair…

dolly2

Jan 14 0 comments
blogs, food

what a life it would be, if you could come to mine for tea

On Tuesday, I made lasagne! Wow. This is an absolute first. You don’t even want to know about my bloody lasagne, do you? Well, I’m sorry, but I’m tellin’ you anyway! It was wonderfully/scrumptiously/successfully delicious and, well, lasagne can’t fail to look impressive, can it? We had it for dinner on Tuesday and again yesterday and I’ve just polished off the dregs for my lunch today. It’s safe to say lasagne gets better with age. I’m making a mental note to do it again soon, even if it was extremely time-consuming (what with the buying of the ingredients and the cooking of the individual parts and the building/constructing/sprinkling/spreading and the cooking in the foil and then the cooking not-in-foil and then the putting on the plate). I reckon you should all get your cooking clothes on and build yourself something layered and lovely.

Oh, by the way, today I was lucky enough to make an appearance on the rather wonderful blog, What Katie Wore. Thanks, Joe and Katie! Now, I’m tempted to post a picture of my lasagne (of course I took a picture!) but I’ll save you from inanity and post a picture of Katie instead. She’s sporting a rather cool hair-do in this one.

what-katie-wore-for-the-long-week-ahead-646x1024

Nov 14 0 comments
food

if i knew you were comin’ i’d've baked a cake

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: never, I repeat, never leave the house on a Saturday. If it doesn’t involve cocktails, I can guarantee it’s not worth the trip. Everything takes five times longer than usual and everything/everyone/everywhere is ten times more annoying than usual. There are far better ways to spend a Saturday; baking cakes, for example. Once you’ve licked the bowl and that delicious baking aroma beings to spread, have a good old polish, make the place nice’n'cosy, get your socks warming on the radiator, get the coffee a’brewing, and before you know it you’ll be nestled on the sofa eating home-baked treats, drinking coffee (go mad – pull the Tia Maria out!), toes all cosy, watching The Railway Children. Much better than facing the general public on a Saturday. But, can I just add (in case you do decide to follow my cake-baking-on-a-Saturday advice), here’s some more: make sure the exercise is semi-altruistic….in other words, don’t eat all the cakes yourself. Knock on your neighbours’ doors and share the wealth! Cakes make the world go round, after all.

I talk a good cake-baking game, don’t I? But I am, indeed, all talk. Of course I haven’t baked any cakes today (for that would’ve involved going to the shop to get the ingredients – no, I’m not the kinda gal who has flour and cake tins and all those other cake-baking sort of things casually lurking in her cupboards). Nor have I managed to polish anything, get the place cosy, or treat myself to some warmed up socks (I don’t have any radiators). The most I’ve managed is a quick hoover, an instant coffee, a slice of toast (or four) and a Coronation Street omnibus. Oh, what a wholesome life I lead! Let’s hope the rest of evening holds more cosy hope…

homebaking