As well as blessing us with the drunken little pixie that is Kirsten Borst, American has come up trumps on it's sheer innovation in the culinary world. Never has a country managed to think of so many uses of sugar as has America.
We are all pretty familiar with Oreos and Lucky Charms, they are super tasty, but nothing new. I was not aware however that you could also get chocolate Lucky Charms! How amazing is that? Marshmallows in your breakfast, and they turn your milk chocolatey. That's certainly more than that obnoxious little money hawking CoCo Pops can offer!
Sticking with the marshmallow theme, a jar of Fluff came into my possession last week. Fluff, a kind of liquid marshmallow in a jar, is perhaps the most wonderful substance I have come across in recent times. But what to do with it? Spread it on toast, make it into fudge as the jar suggests? Nah, eat it from the jar with a spoon, trust me, it is amazing. What I also love about this product is the unashamed declaration on the packaging that Fluff contains Corn Syrup. Americans just don't care do they.
As proof of their commitment to the junk food cause, the aforementioned yank demonstrated the best way to consume Fluff: Spread on a 'Smores' Pop Tart. On the other side of the atlantic, a Smore is melted choclate and marshmallow melted between two crackers (or biscuits to us sensible people). Those genius' at Kellogs have gone and stuck this marshmallow and chocolate concoction in a Pop Tart, and it is truly beautiful.
While these yank foods are available here, only at an extortionate price, so here is my very own Smore recipe for you to try:
- Spread two rich tea biscuits with a generous helping of Nutella.
- Sandwich two big marshmallows between the chocolatey biscuits.
- microwave for 10-20 seconds or until the marshmallows have gone gooey.
- Enjoy whist humming 'the star spangled banner'.
Geography, and science and all that shiz dictates that the further a place is from the equator, the colder it will be. FACT! You would then think that accordingly, the colder the area you are in, the more clothes you would therefore wear in order to keep warm. WRONG!
This weekend, I braved the treacherous crossing of the M25 and left London for the smokily northern city of Manchester. Wild I know, but there is nothing like visiting the north to remind you of why you pay so much to live in London. Despite being only 200 miles (a pifling distance to anyone but the English, but hey, I am English) or so further north, Manchester is considerably colder than London, and I chose to equip myself for a night's drinking with a coat, cardigan, scarf, and thick tights. In addition to my other clothes obviously!
Imagine my shock then when the train into town was filled with masses of white dimpled skin, exposed to the elements, defended only by whimsical shorts and minimal vest tops. Fashion it seems has developed a strange backwards microcosm above Birmingham where the colder the weather seems to mean less clothes. Perhaps they have all been watching Neighbours too much, those Australians do love a bit of skin!
Another week passed, and all I am left with is a brimming inbox of confusing emails, a small list of gripes and a headache.
I have had a headache, on and off since Monday night, and I am incredibley displeased by it. Copious anadins, Neurofens and pints of water have passed my tonsils yet still the little veins in my forehead continue to throb. I have decided to rule out the possibility of the Brain Tumour though. When Dr Greene in ER was suffering with such neurological ailments, he was unable to stick his tongue out of both sides oh his mouth, which I am thankfully able to do. I have decided therefore to take an eyetest. At least glasses would add another level to accessorising, and would most certainly make me look clever. Unfortunately my often bemused expression and bottle blonde hair can lead people to believe the contrary, though dont be fooled...
Outside the world of my visual health, all sorts of things have been going on! Most notably, (well probably not really, but most notably in my little world) the predictable, self-congratulation, borefest that is The Brits took place. There's not really any point in discussing who won what, as it was in no way based on merit, the awards were rather a big corporate pat on the back to all their favourite puppets, especially those the Brit school had themselves cultivated. Having spent many months carefully perfecting her trendy Mockney, Kate Gash was one of the many to be applauded by the school that had spawned them. Refusing to play the game were Arctic Monkeys, whose acceptance speech parodied the gushings of the Brit School Graduates. While I am not usually a fan of The Arctic Monkeys, for no better reason than they're just not really my thing, I warmed to the Sheffield Quartet on Wednesday, when they drunkenly stumbled onto the stage and stuck it to the man!
Of the performances, Kylie's stock electropop routine was present. Not offensive, but also not especially notable. What she lacked in performance however, Kylie made up for in outfits, most notibly a strapless, knee length, sparkely dress.
Rhianna collaberated with The Klaxons to bring together the two difinitive sounds of summer 2007 by combining The Klaxons' Nu-Rave style with Rhianna's huge hit Umberella.
Paul McCartney recieved the Life-time achievment award and treated the by then Osborned-out audience to a selection of Beatle's songs, including everyone's favourite, 'Hey Jude'. McCartney's performance was pretty special, although I can never help thinking when watching him perform that he is only the best Beatle by default now that poor old George has died.
Despite being hideously overlooked for her music credentials, Bat for Lashes' Natash Khan made sure she didnt go unnoticed with amazing, Rainbow make up, starting at her eye and leading right down to her neck.
In further news this week, I was angered by Delia Smith. I am still pretty angry about this, because no matter how much better Nigella is, and how much harder Nigella tries, Delia will always capture the old bastard fleece wearing market, and believe me, there are a LOT of them.
So here's to next week, so far set to be filled with female folk music, vegetarian food, and hopefully no more headaches!
“The thing about Abdul, right, is that he’s got all these cool trainers but he’s got weird feet…banana feet. So they just end up looking weird on him. Know what I mean?”
“Yeeeah, clown feet.”
I have never been a fan of Delia Smith. A cookbook should offer you creative alternatives to what you could think of yourself, but there has always seemed to me to be something dull, stale, and uninspiring about Delia's books. When the patronising old crone decided to tell people how to boil an egg, or make toast (which in my opinion she did wrong anyway), the deal was sealed. Delia Smith had souffleed her way right out of my bad book, and onto The List. I did not think I could despise a television cook more.
Until now. Having not polluted bookshops with anything new for over 4 years, Delia Smith returns with her new book, 'Delia's How to Cheat at Cooking'. The book contains over 140 recipes for people 'who love to cook but don’t always have the time; people who don’t like to cook but have to; and simply for people who are afraid to cook', except the recipes featured don't show people how to cook at all. Instead they show you how to combine a wide selection of branded, pre-prepared ingredients, including Marks and Spencer's tinned minced lamb, and Aunt Bessie's frozen, ready-made mashed potato. Waterstones claim that 'Delia's How to Cheat at Cooking' is set to be a 'monster', so the manufacturers of these products must be rubbing their hands together with glee, although reports suggest that Delia is not receiving payment from the leading supermarkets, whose products she features, for the endorsement.
I agree that preparing healthy, fresh food can often be time consuming, but I think that Delia's excessive use of ready made foods in 'Delia's How to Cheat at Cooking', seriously misses the point of cutting corners. As use preservative and salt laden ingredients like the ones she recommends, you are no better off than eating a ready meal. The only difference between Delia's Shepherds Pie and a fully ready made one is that you assemble the ingredients yourself and serve it in a proper dish. That is not home cooking. The recipe is designed for people 'who don't have time to peel, boil and mash potatoes', but is making mash really that much of a time consuming hardship? You could be doing that whilst browning your mince for a fresh and tasty Shepherds Pie, and probably in the same amount of time as it would take to knock up Delia's 'cheats' version.
Instead of championing such laziness, Delia should take a leaf out of Nigella Lawson's (cook)book, and show people how it can actually be very easy and quick to make good, homecooked food from fresh ingredients. Nigella is a champion of lazy cooking, but her recipe for Ragu, from her most recent collection, 'Nigella Express' manages to be quick and fresh. Like Delia's latest offering, 'Nigella Express' is a book designed to show busy people how to create good food in as little time as possible. While Nigella also uses some ready made foods, for example a jar of caramelised onions in her Ragu, the emphasis is still on fresh ingredients and pre-making food yourself when you do have the time. The Ragu recipe is a case in point that a good meat sauce can be made from fresh meat and canned chopped tomatoes, and ingredient with little else added, in less that half an hour, rendering the use of the cooked tinned mince in Delia's recipes useless. It is most likely that Nigella's freshly made version is a whole lot tastier too.
The issue lies deeper than whether the fresh or pre-prepared version tastes better however. Already supermarkets have reported increases of up to 50% in the sale of some of the products Delia features, fully demonstrating the power of the 'Delia effect'. It could be somewhat damaging then, that someone with as much influence as Delia is promoting the use of less healthy, ready made food, when the nation is facing an obesity crisis due to the excessive consumption of such products. Whats more, last week, Delia was slating 'food trendies' such as Hugh Fearnly-Whittingstall and Jamie Oliver, who have recently been campaigning against the mass sale of badly treated battery chickens. Delia claims that while ethics are a nice idea, her decision comes down to taste and cost at the end of the day.
An increased awareness of what goes into our food, and where our food comes from is important in improving our health, and increasing the production of ethically made food, and this shouldn't be slated as yet another fad. Since Hugh and Jamie's chicken campaign aired in Channel 4 at the beginning of January, sales of Organic and Free Range chicken have risen by 36%, an incredibly positive move, but will Delia's stronger influence sway people back towards unethical chicken and ready made food?
If you go to the website for any popular outdoor wear brand, you will be bombarded with images of all sorts of strenuous outdoor activities. Biking, mountain climbing, tight roping between cliffs whilst balancing a flame thrower on your head. You could easily think you had stumbled upon a tampon advert if there weren't so many pictures of men!
Fitting as this may seem, 'active wear' is presumably designed for such activities, the manufacturers are failing to advertise the primary use of their products: clothing every boring, middle-aged bastard under the sun!
Old women in particular are guilty of this, and like a uniform they don some sensible flat M&S shoes, tapered but loose polyester trousers resting just above, NEVER below the ankle, a short 'not too much hassle' hair style, and to top it off, the evil Fleece. The Women's Polarplus IV IA, pictured, is especially popular. Always in a sensible colour, nothing too garish.
This is perhaps the most boring item of clothing I have ever seen. Its lack of shape, style, or any redeeming feature for that matter, makes the fleece the ultimate dullard item of clothing. Why then are so many people wearing them? Perhaps old, fashionably challenged women are dazzled by features such as 'Interactive zip feature', and tricked into thinking this makes it a young, hip fleece. Be assured over 50's, there is no such thing as a 'cool, hip' fleece! In fact assigning words such as 'cool' or 'hip' to an item automatically voids it of these qualities.
I imagine that dullards are choosing this hideous crime to fashion for its functional warmth, but since it is priced at a whopping £70, you'd be better off cosying up in a far more aesthetically pleasing Pashmina.
If Vogue have any sense of social responsibility, they will be sending a copy to every last member of the Women's Institute ASAP.
It is not often that you can visit a restaurant, and the very next day, fancy going to the same type of restaurant again, but I find that eating curry only reminds me of how much I love it, and makes me want to eat even more curry. I have often heard that you should never trust someone that doesn't drink, as it probably means that there is a sinister part of their personality that they are trying to keep under wraps by not getting drunk. While curry does not have the same Jeckyll and Hyde effect on a person, I would feel the same distrust of someone who said they don't like curry. I met a person that didn't like curry, and he was indeed a bad egg.
On Thursday, I was lucky enough to visit The Bombay Bicycle Club, a rather fancy Indian eatery in London's Holland Park. Here, I was treated to an unusual creamy dish, Murgh Multan, featuring smoked chicken. I have never eaten smoked chicken in a curry before, but the combination of its deep, woody flavour with the tomato infused creamy sauce was really something quite special. Accompanying this, I sampled Shahi Bagyan, a spiced roasted Aubergine dish. The onions and garlic in this dish soaked into the porous aubergine to create almost meaty chunks of curry heaven and provided a tasty contrast to the creamy chicken dish.
Contrary to The Bombay Bicycle Club's offerings, I am often surprised in Indian restaurants that not a lot of interesting vegetarian dishes are available, especially when you consider that in India 31% of the population are vegetarians, compared with only around 5% in the UK. Shahi Bagyan is a shining example of why more restaurants then should offer a wider selection of vegetarian Indian food, as Indians (or at least the chefs of The Bombay Bicycle Club!) really do excel in meat free cuisine. For particularly authentic Indian vegetarian food, Dosa Chennai is definitely worth a visit. Humble as the surroundings, may be (an almost greasy spoon style environment in East Ham), it is probably the only restaurant in London where you can get food served on a banana leaf, as is customary in the South of India. At around £4 for a vegetarian Thali platter, which includes a selection of vegetable dishes, rice and chapati, it's a bargain too!
My partner in crime La Rue had been in San Francisco for the past two weeks, where the yanks, with their penchant for everything deep fried and sugary, have failed to embrace India's finest in the way us Brits have, so when she returned on Saturday, she was unsurprisingly craving a vegetable Korma. Despite my feast on Thursday, I was in no way opposed to accompanying her to Shepherds Bush's finest, Rajput, on Saturday night. While The Bombay Bicycle Club is a fine Indian restaurant, it is so good, that its prices reflect it, and it therefore best reserved for special occasions. The Rajput, on Goldhawk Road has everything you could ever want from an Indian Restaurant: amazing food, friendly local feel, and super cheap prices. Until last night, every time I visited, I had ordered the Haryali Chicken, a dish with a sauce of coriander and mint, because it is one of those dishes that is so good, you are scared to order anything else in case it doesn't live up to it. But last night I branched out and ordered the Achari Chicken Tikka Massala. This dish is made up of pieces of barbequed chicken in a sweet, spiced tomato based sauce. The sweet tomato perfectly complimented the smoky barbequed chicken and left me feeling wonderfully satisfied and full of curry!
A man once commented that during a 30 night stay in Shepherds Bush, he ate a Rajput meal for 27 of these. This my friends is my ultimate dream!
When I walked onto the platform at Holland Park tube station last week, I was confronted by a ten foot picture of a man's smug face, mindlessly gurning back at me. 'I don't like that man's face', I thought to myself, then went back to innocently thinking about rum or champagne or lush or whatever else was lurking about in my mind that day.
It wasn't until the next day that I actually read what the poster said:
"Chris had a long face. The wife wanted a new family car and this had the potential to blow a huge hole in his finances, not to mention the other plans he had for his money.
A little bird told him to get down to Cargiant where he bought a quality used car that kept the wife more than happy and saved himself a tidy little sum in the process. Just enough for a wicked weekend in Paris…
… with the girlfriend, tweet tweet!"
As Fucking if! Since when has it been acceptable to use adultery to advertise cheap cars! And that's not the worst of it. 'The Wife', is seemingly just a figure of nuisance in this man's life, getting in the way of him spending money on luring women into his filthy man-trap. Who were the people who came up with this advert aiming it towards? Is the adulterous male really that much of a captive market for shit old cars?
To top it off, just in case you are not disgusted enough by the hideously immoral theme of the advert, Chris' goony face, or the nastily chauvinistic tone, they have used the phrase 'tweet tweet'. Tweet Tweet? What the fuck does that even mean? So now the advert is degrading to both the wife and girlfriend. Nice.
Cock Off Cargiant.
Today I was innocently perusing the blog of a fellow Laura, and decided to add a nugget of wisdom regarding the necessity of the 'Mind the Gap' message on the tube, from which Johnny Foreigner derives so much amusment. (I once saw a man fall down the rather sizable gap at Bank station, and have since taken the instruction to 'Mind the Gap' rather seriously. Safety is important after all). To return to my point, delivering this snippet of information required me to sign up to Vox, something that made me feel more than a tiny bit disgruntled.
But in the name of public safety, I did it anyway and have now been lured into yet another opportunity to while away the hours between 9.30 and 5.30.
Internet, beware my wrath, as this will undoubtedly become a platform for many a rant! Thus I have chosen the rainy background to illustrate. Watch this space motherfuckers!
