The UAE is a country of contrasts. Souks and Supermalls. Camel Markets and Ferrari World. Desert and Skiing. Jon was working at NYU Abu Dhabi and I was along for the holiday ride.

This is a dry country that encourages you to cover your knees and shoulders for the sake of modesty, then invites you into extravagant hotels, to sell you crazy strong cocktails flecked with gold.

Gold is essentially pointless in cooking. It tastes of nothing, it’s completely inert. It’s pure decoration. It’s an extravagance. It’s a thoroughly bizarre thing to do.

Still. Gold topped cosmo?

Yes.

At the Emirates Palace hotel in Abu Dhabi, gold is something of a specialty. The world’s first gold vending machine is there, for example. In case you’re caught short without a bit of gold, and don’t have time to pop out to the shops to get some, presumably. The ceilings are gold, the columns are gold, the cutlery is “gold colored, not actual gold, are you mad?” said Ingyin as we settled into our gold chairs and ordered our gold topped cocktails.

Once you’ve come to terms with the idea that putting metal scrapings onto things you’re going to ingest is a reasonable thing to do, gold is a super easy way to transform pretty much anything into a celebration.

Gold dusted profiterols. Gold dusted cappuccino. Gold dusted strawberries.

Not cheap. Not subtle. But awesome.

Classic Cosmo (per glass)

• Mix in a shaker and pour into a martini glass.

The stars aligned last weekend. 2 separate ideas coming together to shape the inevitable future.

Firstly, Duncan, a friend and a chemist, conjectured that it would be possible to calculate the exact mineral make up of San Pellegrino mineral water, then mix together a powder that could be spooned into fizzy water to replicate the taste.

And then Anelia mentioned that Heston Blumenthal had made his own perfectly passable champagne by carbonating Blue Nun.

We bought the soda stream.

Here’s how a soda stream works: You fizz water. You add flavor. That’s it. Of course that would be it. What made me think there’d be more to it than that?

So the key to interesting soda is syrup. Indeed, the soda stream comes with a bunch of syrup packets meant to simulate the flavor of various famous branded drinks. Or, and this is where things get interesting, you can make your own.

Rhubarb Syrup for soda streaming, or Rhubarb Gin and Tonics

• Cook the rhubarb, sugar and lemon (and split vanilla bean if using) gently in the water for 10 – 15 minutes until the rhubarb is soft.
• Strain through a sieve (or a sieve and a sheet of muslin if you have one / have the patience). If you want a clear cordial, leave the fruit to drain on its own overnight. If you don’t mind a bit of cloudiness, press down on the fruit to extract as much juice as you can. 
• This cordial will keep for a week in the fridge.

The leftover fruit is lovely stirred into lightly whipped cream or topping Greek yoghurt for breakfast

I use it in the proportions 1 part rhubarb to 3 parts fizzy water, or I make rhubarb gin and tonics, adding a shot of cordial to the mix.

If you work in an office you will know that there is literally nothing more exciting than a co-worker returning from a holiday with chocolate.

I work in an office that is especially snack rich. We have free breakfasts, a free coffee bar, beer hours, pizza lunches, treat baskets. But still, the gravitational pull of a box of Swiss chocolates From Switzerland, or a Duty Free Toblerone, draws people from their desks in moments.

On my last trip to the UK I came back to work with a tin of M&S chocolate biscuits. They were gone in under an hour.

That said, I’m with people on the Toblerone front. I think it’s because a giant Toblerone, though undeniably delicious, is not the kind of thing that you buy for yourself.

When my sister was 8, cousin Emma brought a boyfriend to her birthday lunch. He brought a Toblerone as a last minute gift. It was the best present ever. Imagine for a moment that you are 8, holding chocolate that’s bigger than your own arm. Nice feeling, right.

The only thing that can top Chocolate From Abroad is a really good homemade baked good. The kind of crazy delicious sugar bomb that changes lives, and brings harmony and love on a slow afternoon.

This is that.

Chocolate Pretzel Peanut Bars

This recipe is a combination of the classic homemade Reeses Peanut Butter cups recipe that my friend Sara of NYC NOM NOM made when we went to her house for dinner, and a butterscotch bar recipe that’s been going around Pinterest, and comes from www.bhg.com

• Line a small baking tray (12 by 9 ish) with non stick mat, or foil.
• Spray with cooking spray
• Mix the peanut butter, powdered sugar and melted butter together. Crush up the pretzels, then stir in 2 cups, then press this mixture into the tin. (to make peanut butter cups, you basically just swap in Graham cracker crumbs for pretzels, press into mini muffin trays and top with the melted chocolate)
• Melt the chocolate and cream together gently, then pour over the peanut butter mixture
• Sprinkle the rest of the pretzels and peanuts over the top. Refrigerate to set, then cut into bars with a warm knife (dip in hot water)

It was a busy afternoon in the office, and we were in need of a moment of calm. That’s when Jon sent me the gif of a cat jumping off a bed into a beanbag.

It was the right video at the right time, I guess.

My colleagues gathered around my desk to watch, and then, after several minutes of cat face-planting, they started to suggests new cute fixes – “there’s a cat that’s dressed up as a shark riding on a Roomba chasing a duck – Google that. It’s awesome.“

“I’m following a dog on instagram.” Angelina admitted. “That’s how stressful my life is, I need to follow a cute dog to get a daily moment of calm.”

She opened up a series of pictures of a pomeranian doing things like sitting up, lying down, sleeping, sitting up again, and wearing a hat.

“He’s just so adorable,” she squealed. “Here he is hugging his own paw. His own paw. Can you imagine. So cute!”

“Totally cute!” agreed Mattias, who only wears black, only eats organic vegan, and usually looks on the more serious side of life. We all smiled happily. Our shoulders unknotted, our brows unfurrowed.

What did people do before we had such innocent ways of tamping down tension and stress?

“We drank,” said Paul.

And that totally still works.

Gin Gimlets

• Shake over ice.

I recently went to the dermatologist about what turned out to be a perfectly ordinary freckle. She tool out a lens, and looked closely at every inch of my skin, making notes on a clip board before deciding that I was, basically, fine.

“Though we could definitely improve the appearance of these enlarged pores on your forefingers,” she said. Almost in passing.

What enlarged pores on my forefingers? I had never noticed them before. Wasn’t that just what a forefinger looked like?

“I think a laser treatment would really improve the look!”

Back at my desk, back at my computer, suddenly all I could see my forefingers, pistoning up and down on the keys. Forefinger pores danced before my eyes, getting larger and larger. By the end of my email, my fingers looked basically polka dotted.

I made the appointment.

“Are you insane?” My friends wondered.

“No.” I told them. I have enlarged forefinger pores and I am going to get them lasered. Look.”

“I have those too,” said Katherine. “They’re not enlarged. That’s just what a forefinger looks like.”

“I don’t know,” Libby was unconvinced. “Mine look like that. Maybe I should get mine done too. Is that a thing we need to worry about now?”

A half hour stirring a risotto, and a healthy dose of perspective later I can confidently assert, no. It is not.

Mushroom Risotto

It’s not only the gentle stirring that makes risotto feel like kitchen therapy – radio on, or music on, glass of white wine in hand. This risotto is, in the nicest possible way, beige. It’s a very relaxing, unchallenging color, smooth, creamy, plain, almost austere, very minimalist-ly beautiful.

• Preheat the oven to 425f
• Brush the mushrooms to clean them, and slice any really large ones in half or quarters.
• Put the mushrooms into an oven dish with 1 tbsp of butter and a splash of olive oil. Add the thyme sprig, grate over the garlic and the zest from about half the orange (zest the whole orange and set the rest aside).
• Season well, then cover with foil and bake for 15 mins.
• Get started on the risotto (more detailed notes can be found here)
• Dice the onion, season well and fry gently with the pancetta in a little splash of olive oil until soft
• Add the rice and stir in the heat to toast lightly. Pour in the wine and the juice from the orange, and scrape up the brown bits from the bottom of the pan into the sauce
• Start stirring. Add stock a ladle full at a time, keep the heat low and stir it in gently until the rice absorbs it. Add another ladle full.
• When the mushroom timer goes off, turn off the heat, and leave the mushrooms in the oven out of the way to say warm.
• Keep going for about 20 – 25 mins, until the rice is soft but still has a little bite, and the stock is gone (you may need slightly more, in which case, hot water is fine). The risotto should have a texture somewhere between a fork and a spoon.
• Stir in the rest of the butter and most of the cheese. The risotto should become really creamy. Stir in the mushrooms, and let the risotto sit off the heat for a couple of minutes to relax. It seems strange but it makes a difference.
• Scatter the reserved cheese over the top, along with a little of the reserved zest.
• Serve in warmed bowls.

I’m just going to tell it to you straight. I love my cape. I love to sweep around the city like fashion batman. I like to wear it as often as possible.

Usually, this is about twice in Spring, and twice in Fall. Capes are tricky. And it’s profoundly sad to be out and about in the world, cape-less, and realize that you missed a perfect cape opportunity. Well, profoundly sad, for a given definition of profoundly sad that’s probably a bit closer to slightly miffed.

To avoid this, Jon designed an app for me for my birthday last year:
Is it cape weather?

Mostly, the answer is No.

Wrap up warm, advises the app. Too cold for capes. Or Take an umbrella, It’s going to rain – no cape today. Or Hot! You don’t even need a cardigan!

And then it happened.

It’s officially Spring. Celebrations abound!

Spring Pea Pasta (serves 2 – easily extended for more)

At Union Square Farmers Market last week I bought a punnet of pea shoots – the very essence of Spring – which I added to this pasta at the very last moment – pasta cooked, added to sauce, pea shoots in off the heat, turned on the sauce, done. It’s also good with just peas. Mostly, frozen ones.

• Bring a large pot of water to the boil. Salt liberally and cook the pasta for about 1 min less than the packet instructions.
• Meanwhile, fry the pancetta in a tsp of olive oil until beginning to crisp – a few minutes
• Add the wine, and bubble off the alcohol for a minute. Add the cream.
• Grate in the zest from half the lemon, and squeeze in half the juice.
• Add the peas and cook for a few minutes until the peas are thawed and the sauce is reduced.
• Drain the pasta and toss in the sauce, adding the pea shoots if using.
• Serve with plenty of ground black pepper.

My grandma is a big fan of the afternoon movie. She has stacks of videos arranged by the television. A treasure trove of old favorites – Singing in the Rain, Oklahoma, Annie, Some Like It Hot, Calamity Jane. All fabulous, fabulous ways to spend an hour or two with a cup of tea and some kind of baked good.

But her favorite is The Student Prince.

The Student Prince is the semi-operatic tale of a Prince who becomes a student, falls for a barmaid, tries to kiss her, gets her fired, commands her to return, and somehow persuades her to fall in love with him by singing straight at her face really loudly. Then – spolier alert – he breaks her heart by going back to being a Prince again. It stars one handsome American guy as the titular Prince, and another unseen Italian opera star (Mario Lanzo) as the Singing Voice of the Student Prince. This is kinda genius. Everything else about the movie is pretty much a nightmare.

If it’s possible that you’ve managed to live your whole life and Not experience the unique mystery of The Student Prince, this YouTube clip will surely only strengthen your resolve.

I think my Grandma knows how we all feel about The Student Prince, because she sells it hard. “What’s this film? Is it the one about a Prince who’s a Student? I haven’t seen that one in years. Shall we have a look at that one? I don’t think I’ve seen this one before. It’ll be something new. This is a good one. Is this the one you like?”

I give in. Last time I was in Wigan (2 days) I watched Student Prince twice.

My sister is less of a pushover. Evidence? This email from over Easter weekend – a mere three weeks after my own Student Prince marathon:

FROM – SARAH

TO – KATHERINE

SUBJECT: Deja vu

“Grandma: Heidi found a tape at the back of the telly, (pause), its one I’ve not seen in years, (pause) a favorite …

Me: What is it?

Grandma: One about a prince …

Me: A Student Prince?

Grandma: Yes, I haven’t seen it in years shall we watch it?

Me: No”

Now you see, I would never do this. I hedge, I compromise, I try to please. I’m easily led. I end up eating Thai food when I’ve been craving pizza all day.

But bravery and resolve ultimately did not go so well for my sister.

“What happened?” I asked her.

“We ended up watching Mrs Minever”.

Lancashire Cream

Jon scoffed when I proposed making this – recipe given to me by cousin Emma from an old cookbook. But we made it – and with less mess than the recipe warns. Probably because when I stood on a bar stool to pour the cream out I used a huge deep salad bowl, so less spattering potential. This is very fun. The way cooking felt when you got to skip maths class to make fairy cakes with volunteer mums in primary school.

The next day the cream had the texture of mousse. Light and lovely. Not a joke vintage recipe at all. Worth an experiment.

“I was covering a golf party at the Playboy Mansion,” said Rhett, casually. Rhett is a sketch writer, and son of infinitely awesome parents, naming-wise. He’d been interning at a paper in LA, he said, and had been sent out to note and observe.

“Actually, the Mansion was a bit of a disappointment. It wasn’t all that. The biggest celebrity there was the dude from The Blindside, and he was having a good time, but he might have been the only one. I wouldn’t go in that pool. You never know.”

He shook his head wisely.

“After the game, there was a pajama party, and I though, if I’m going to get noticed by the girls, I need to be original. Everyone else would be there in Heff-style silk dressing gowns. So I bought a onesie. With hamster ears.”

He brought out his cell phone and pulled up a picture to show us. We goggled.

“How did it go?”

“Well, I got noticed. But I didn’t get laid.”

Sounds about right.

Sex on the Beach

Some weeks need a cocktail with a stupid name to jolt them out of the run of the mill. This is that drink. Obviously.

Fill a tall glass with ice, pour in the alcohol. Top up with cranberry and orange juice. Stir.

“I can’t come out after the rehearsal,” said Kathleen. “I promised my friend I’d see her Belly Dancing. It’s her first ever show.”

Well, that should be fun! We encouraged.

“Possibly. But she takes it really seriously. On a scale with the Bolshoi on one end and Swinging around a poll on the other, she’s right up with the Bolshoi. Also, she thinks she was Turkish in a previous life.”

“I did Belly Dancing once,” said Lisa. “The class was in this Lebanese restaurant. I slipped on a kalamata olive and twisted my ankle.”

Zucchini pancakes (serves 4 – 6)

I’ve been a big fan of the zucchini pancake ever since I read about them in Claudia Roden’s fantastic book New Middle Eastern Food.

Ideally, you’re looking for smaller zucchini because they don’t have such a large seed core. But it’s not a big issue. In my Turkish cookery class we grated the zucchini after cutting it in half and taking out the seeds. I don’t do this at home. Instead, I grate into a kitchen towel then wring out the zucchini to get rid of most of the water. It works just fine. Though especially traditional Turkish Grandmothers would apparently take umbrage at this, so bear that in mind should you be making these for one.

Another thing just to note; Turkish red pepper flakes don’t have the seeds in, so they’re much more mild than regular red pepper flakes. If you’re using Turkish red pepper, double it here.

• Grate the zucchini and wring out to get rid of the water. Tip into a bowl
• Add the pepper flakes, the cheese, the herbs and onions / chives, then season well
• Stir in the egg, and mix in the flour
• Fry small patties – I make mine about 1 tsp each, though this takes a bit of time – in a hot pan for a couple of minutes per side until golden
• Drain on kitchen paper. Eat, or reheat in a medium oven for 5 mins until warmed through
• To serve, grate the garlic into the yogurt and put a dollup on each plate, or in a bowl for dipping

I recently started writing for a sketch comedy team at the Pit in NYC. We write late, and rehearse later. Consequently, I’m staggering home at 11pm, lacking the energy to tackle any significant cooking, or indeed, any significant eating.

You know, the kind of extreme laziness that makes crunching through a bowl of muesli or a crisp spinach salad seem like a step too far.

Luckily New York, the fabled city that never sleeps, literally never sleeps. On my walk home I pass pizza joints, burger places, a 24 hour French Cafe, a couple of falafel hole in the walls, a famous hot dog shop, a couple of Thai noodle restaurants and sushi counters.

The only problem? Sometimes I’m too sleepy to be decisive, and walk past all of them wondering about what I’d like for dinner, only to find myself back at home, standing by the fridge wondering the same thing.

It’s time for breakfast for dinner food, scrambled eggs on toast, bacon sandwiches. Toasted things: crumpets, scotch pancakes, tea cakes, marmite on toast with a slice of tomato (my mum’s favourite no-time dinner). For quick cooking noodles with a splash of sesame oil, a handful of rocket, and a few red chili flakes. A mug of tomato soup. Or this easy, superfast fresh tomato pasta.

• Boil a kettle of water, pour into a pan, salt liberally then add pasta – go with something thin like Angel Hair, or small, like ditilini, or fresh like tagliatelle – that cooks in under 5 mins flat
• Grab a handful of cherry tomatoes and put in the processor. Add a pinch of salt, pepper and a glug of olive oil – good olive oil. Blend to a puree
• Toss the drained pasta with the tomato puree. Add extra black pepper and Parmesan if you like. Eat. 

If you want to / have time to fancy it up a bit

• Add half a clove of garlic to the processor and blend in with the tomatoes
• Add half a clove of garlic to the processor, a couple of anchovies, a few tsp of capers and a pinch of chili flakes
• Or just a pinch of chili flakes
• Throw some frozen peas in with the pasta water
• Stir a few handfuls of rocket into the hot drained pasta, clamp the pan lid on and let them wilt for a minute
• Top the dish with: olives, a few slices of Palma Ham, a handful of spinach, some slivered almonds or toasted pinenuts, some torn mozzarella  a sliced artichoke (from a jar) or a few sundried tomatoes