Yesterday I turned the ripe old age of 31. That would plonk me well and truly in the realms of “my thirties”, not just fence-sitting on 30 and enjoying the excitement of a whole new decade. This time around there was no excitement, just a couple of new grey hairs and a ridiculous [...]]]>

Yesterday I turned the ripe old age of 31. That would plonk me well and truly in the realms of “my thirties”, not just fence-sitting on 30 and enjoying the excitement of a whole new decade. This time around there was no excitement, just a couple of new grey hairs and a ridiculous butt load of drinking on my birthday eve.

Hurrah.

I woke up yesterday with an almighty bitch of a hangover, still reeling from numerous shots of straight tequila / rum & kahlua / tequila & frangelico / no-idea-what-was-in-that-shot still swilling around my stomach. I mean, does it just get worse every year? Because I swear to you, last year on my 30th, I was nowhere near this hungover.

Panu, who was equally hungover, still managed to haul himself out of bed though and cooked me breakfast. Sausage and scrambled eggs. Wait. Make that sausage bits in scrambled eggs, one of my favourite simple brekkies.

I ate it. I managed to hold it down.

And then he gave me my cake, a slice of Hummingbird Bakery’s raspberry cheesecake brownie with one giant raspberry, flanked on one side by three candles (30)… and the other side by one (1). How cute is that? Panu’s brain works even when it’s hungover

I didn’t eat this one straight away because this I would not have kept down.

We decided that a bit of fresh air would do us both a world of good and so after breakfast (and a long hot shower and accidentally laying back on the bed and getting up again and finally getting dressed) we tubed up to Hampstead for a tummy-soothing tea at Ginger and White and slowly strolled back down towards Camden with the intention of having lunch. But boy oh boy, did the (normally awesome) smell of meaty, saucy, heavy savoury food turn my stomach.

Never fear! In all my hungover genius-ness, I realised I didn’t need to have a big fat steak sandwich for lunch. What about ice cream? Ice cream is totally ok for lunch, right? I mean, especially since it’s my birthday and all (and even when it’s not)?

It all worked out rather brilliantly anyway because I’d been wanting to check out Chin Chin Laboratorists for a while, a new ice cream joint in Camden Markets where something of a mad scientist blasts liquid nitrogen with a custardy compound and voilà! You have ice cream!

I know it’s gimmicky, but I had to check it out. The mad scientist dude is a bit of a character and explains the process of cooling nitrogen, mixing it with the “ice cream base” to a certain temperature and producing a silky smooth treat of vanilla or chocolate ice cream. His whole explanation is entertaining, but it does cause quite a long queue to form…

The result is a smooth and rich ice cream (with toppings of your choice) but for £3.95? Not quite sure if I paid for the ice cream or the show.

I did like the swings outside though.

With an ice cream lunch in my tummy, we slowly rolled on home and I took my obligatory birthday nap. After Saturday night’s drinking, I never thought I’d be hungry again but it’s amazing what a good nap does. I woke up famished and hello world, I’m back. A whole roast duck for dinner? Are you kidding me? We ordered two.

Chin Chin Labs
49-50 Camden Lock Place
Camden, NW1 8AF
0788 560 4284
website

I’ve been told that when you meet “the one”, nothing else matters. That when you meet “the one”, the world around you blends into a deliriously gay pastel mess but you don’t care. Because there in front of you, in striking focus, is “the one”, crystal clear in all their beauty and it’s [...]]]>

I’ve been told that when you meet “the one”, nothing else matters. That when you meet “the one”, the world around you blends into a deliriously gay pastel mess but you don’t care. Because there in front of you, in striking focus, is “the one”, crystal clear in all their beauty and it’s all you can do to contain your urge for just one touch, one taste.

When this happens, you know you’re in love.

Or lust. Whatever.

I know it sounds like an urban legend, like something that only happens to “other people”  because believe me when I say awesome stuff that happens to other people never happen to me (ok ok, except for that one time when I won a holiday but seriously? That was all karmic energy mishmash because the universe remembered when I was that desperate that I caught a taxi to the beach and decided that hey, let’s give this girl a fucking break and by “a fucking break” I mean “a holiday to Egypt” but that’s not what we’re here to talk about).

Right. Where were we?

Oh yes, so it’s an urban legend this love [lust] at first sight, right? I thought so too but WRONG. It’s real, it exists, it came right up to me and bit me square in the ass on Wednesday night.

Introducing Bocca di Lupo’s brioche sandwich of pistachio, chestnut and hazelnut gelati. Or as I like to call it, The Ice Cream Burger.

“That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet…”

And I’m now quoting Shakespeare. Love does this to you, man.

So. Wednesday night and I’m having dinner with the elusive Laissez Fare, who’s packing up and heading stateside in a week or so. Dinner at Bocca di Lupo is well above par, with flavours ranging from…

… the clean and eclectic salad of shaved radish, celeriac & pecorino salad with pomegranets and truffle oil…

… to the delightfully fresh and sweet crudita di mare (raw sea bream, red prawn, langoustine & scallop with rosemary oil)…

… the immensely meaty rustic pork & foie gras sausage with farro & porcini…

… to the fat and juicy grilled scallops with gremolata…

… and the orecchiette with ‘nduja (extremely spicy home made salame), red onion & fresh tomato, which yes it was spicy indeed.

For dessert we shared the bombe calde, a freshly fried donut with chocolate cream…

But love (or maybe it was deep, throbbing, dirty lust) didn’t hit me til I laid eyes on this, my heaven, my everything, my goddamn ice cream burger.

In all of my years of existence, in my all of my journeys and pilgrimages (like, when I went to Rome to eat gelato), no one had ever presented me with the gloriousness that is not one, not two but three scoops of gelato ensconced within two sweet, fluffy and perfectly crumbly pieces of brioche.

It came to me. Laissez Fare dissolved into the pastel surroundings and I, I only had eyes for the burger and my urgency to touch it, to bite it, to linger slowly in each mouthful. It was all too much, I surrendered to carnal desire and gave myself to the burger.

But I took a photo first. I mean, what kind of food blogger would I be if I didn’t?

Bocca di Lupo
12 Archer Street
Soho, W1D 7BB
0207 734 2223
website

Here I sit, in London’s business district, flanked on one side by the monumental St Paul’s Cathedral and on the other by London’s star-bright West End. Some might say they envy where I am right now, I mean it’s even sunny in ol’ Londontown today, but all I wish for right [...]]]>

Here I sit, in London’s business district, flanked on one side by the monumental St Paul’s Cathedral and on the other by London’s star-bright West End. Some might say they envy where I am right now, I mean it’s even sunny in ol’ Londontown today, but all I wish for right this moment is to be back in Santorini. Even in London’s sunshine, it just doesn’t compare.

I mean, there are no donkeys in London!

Anyway, as I wallow in the depths of post-best-beach-holiday-ever-depression contemplating the pulpy mess I might create should I take the metaphorical gun and shoot my metaphorical self (pulpy? Do humans even do pulpy? Or have I been watching too much True Blood?) I decided that the best cure to any ailment is to face my fears.

And my fears right now? Sifting through the 300 photos I took last week and facing the God-awful truth that I am no longer lazing on the beach/pool/deck and am rather now sitting in a stale, air conditioned office, wearing my trousers which are undeniably much tighter this week than they were last week.

Sigh. It’s a tough gig, but the truth must be faced.

Anyway, because I really did take over 300 photos, and also because I am a true believer that an image speaks a thousand words, I’m going to relinquish the story telling in this post and hand y’all over to my trusty Canon s90 camera…

View from Family Taverna, Kamari – our first lunch and one of our favourites

Mythos beer in super frosted beer glass at Family Taverna

Iconic architecture in Fira

Panu and I in Fira

A Greek salad overlooking the Greek Islands. There is no other way to live.

“Our milkshakes bring all the…”… yeah

White-washed buildings in Fira. I want to live here.

Oia by night

Chilled fruit juices in Fira

Fried calamari ~ 6 out of 6 days, baby.

Looking at the calderra

Adorable donkey! I want one!

The calderra (volcano) ie. a big pile of rocks

Sun starting to set in Fira

The famous sunset ~ magical and sublime

Best Moussaka on the island at Naoussa Tavern, Fira

Heading up to the Thira Ruins

On top of the world in the Old Thira ruins

Prickly mofo impaled my big toe

Slow cooked lamb at God’s Garden, Perissa Beach

Sunset at Amoudi Bay (Oia)

Fried zucchini (courgette) at Sunset Tavern, Amoudi Bay

Flip flops on Kamari Beach (damn pebbles)

Ok, so I could totally post another 288 photos, but at some point I just need to stop my trigger happy fingers.

One thing I like to do though, in my travel posts, is to share with you guys my restaurant recommendations. Usually this comes with a restaurant name, address, phone number and a website if they have it. Now what totally shat (control freak) me about Santorini is that places don’t have addresses. They just DON’T. And don’t ask me how they get their mail because that totally beats me! Their addresses read something like “Acqua Vatos Hotel, Central Street in Kamari”.

So, here are my restaurant recommendations and best of luck finding them!

Kamari
Family Taverna, on the beach front slightly to the south of where the central road in Kamari meets the esplanade. Best Greek salad we had, with creamy smooth feta. Also the best fried calamari and potato chips, and according to the boys, the best frosted beer glasses on the island. Our favourite.

Oia
Sunset Tavern in Amoudi Bay, this one’s easy, just drive all the way down to Amoudi Bay and it’s the last restaurant on the end. This is a seafood restaurant and probably pricier than any old tavern but the food is fresh and the ambience is magical at sunset.

Melevia Cafe Patisserie, on the main sunset esplanade of Oia, selling homemade Greek sweets and the most gargantuan slice of baklava I’ve ever seen.

Avoid Kasteli Tavern, though it looks like a nice traditional tavern, the food is bland and servings are tiny! We were bitten

Fira
Naoussa Tavern, not on the main sunset esplanade of Fira, but about two “lane ways” back, parallel to the esplanade.  Recommended to us by some friends, this tavern is family run and makes the best moussaka on the island.

Perissa
God’s Garden, slightly off the main drag on a street adjacent to the beach. A little humid without the seabreeze but their slow cooked lamb more than makes up for that.

We managed to eat about five main meals a day in Santorini, starting with breakfast at our hotel, Acqua Vatos. Our meals were then supplemented with numerous ice creams and milk shakes everyday because… well, it’s hot. And we’re on holidays. And I love Snickers ice cream bars.

We ate so much that by the last day, we weren’t even hungry anymore. Do you know how insane that is? It’s CRA-ZEE.

Anyway, now I’m back, back to reality and struggling to un-love this beautiful island that I’ve just gone and fallen in love with so quickly. The only thing motivating me to do any work is that I have my boss on my ass and I need this job to pay for more (more! yes, more!) trips to anywhere but here.

ps. We had a car and travelled all over the island from tip to tip, side to side. Each area of the island is quite different so if you’re planning on going there, drop me a line and I might be able to point you in the right direction.

pps. And I might come with you.

ppps. If you want to see some more (mainly silly) photos, check out my facebook.

While I’m away sunning myself on the gorgeous island of Santorini, my friends from far and wide have chipped in to help keep you hungry little readers occupied. Meeta, author of the stunning blog What’s For Lunch Honey?, knows me far too well. She’s gone and combined matcha and ice cream and cherries [...]]]>

While I’m away sunning myself on the gorgeous island of Santorini, my friends from far and wide have chipped in to help keep you hungry little readers occupied. Meeta, author of the stunning blog What’s For Lunch Honey?, knows me far too well. She’s gone and combined matcha and ice cream and cherries and created the deliriously amazing matcha cherry swirl ice cream!

Read on to enjoy Meeta’s blog post

*****

I actually started this post differently, but see something happened last Friday that made me change the bulk of it.

Twitter is a waste of time, I am not going to deny it! But boy, do I and many of my dear friends spend an enormous amount of time on this sweet waste. While in front of the scenes we laugh and joke about so many things that move us, the really juicy stuff happens behind the scenes via Direct Message (DM). No do not even think for a moment I am going to tell anyone what that stuff is!

Then you make a mistake and send a DM meant for her eyes only, through an oversight, to her! When you realize, it’s too late and all you can do is hit your head hard on the table and wish the floor would rip open and swallow you.

But then Catty is cool! I let out a sigh of relief that it was her that received that DM and no one else. It led to a lot of giggles, emails and more DMs and while I already knew she was cool, I began to realize that there’s more. I really like her.

We’ve met in London, albeit for a short time but it was enough to get the right vibes and Twitter kept our discussions alive. A wrong DM to the wrong person, made things go the right way for us and now we are really enjoying getting to know each other on a different level. I hope to visit London in November again. There will be many highlights during this visit for sure, one of them will most definitely be getting together with Catty and having more time for face to face giggles and some juicy talk. In the meantime we have Twitter and a lot of off the record DMing behind the scenes

I am really excited to be here at The Catty Life and sharing a recipe with Catty’s favorite ingredient – Matcha. She loves matcha flavors so much that she invited all of us to take part in her Matcha Madness a little while back. As I got her DM regarding the event – I was fairly sure what I wanted to do for her. See Catty enjoys ice cream a lot. In particular soft serves and so I thought I’d treat her to two of her favorite things. While this is not really a soft serve, the texture of the ice cream is deliciously smooth and creamy. My favorite part is of course the cherries that have with poached in sugar and spice and add a lovely fruity highlight to the entire matcha experience. Be sure to use a good quality matcha powder and adjust the taste according to your own personal intensity. Mine is a concentrate high quality powder and a small amount goes a long way.

I hope Catty likes and you enjoy.

As this post goes to air (thank you Mr. Scheduler), I am sunning myself on the most gorgeous caldera in the world ~ Santorini. I’m probably having the time of my life, but this time last week I was most definitely not having the time of my life.

In the interest of not boring [...]]]>

As this post goes to air (thank you Mr. Scheduler), I am sunning myself on the most gorgeous caldera in the world ~ Santorini. I’m probably having the time of my life, but this time last week I was most definitely not having the time of my life.

In the interest of not boring you to smitherines and oh, that little rule about “not talking about my work on my blog”, well, I’m just not going to talk about my work on my blog. But needless to say, last Thursday was one of those days that I would have liked to have just taken and shoved up the nether regions of Jabba the Hutt’s ASS, never to be seen or heard from again for all of glorious eternity.

It was a crucifyingly stressful day, and at 5pm I slinked out of the office in one long exasperated sigh, ready to… I don’t know what, go home and cry? Actually no, at that point I hadn’t wanted to cry yet, but trying to order a matcha soft serve at Wasabi at 5.30pm and being told they shut the machine down at 3pm really did make me want to cry.

And then going to Tesco to buy supplies for brownies and finding out they’re shut for renovations; that also made me want to cry.

I was in such a state that on Friday, I decided that I had hard-earned my goddamn right to have whatever the fluck I wanted for lunch, and so it was with great wisdom and responsibility that I decided my lunch was going to be a serve of avocado & honey sorbet from Gelupo.

Why not, right?

Gelupo
7 Archer Street
Soho, W1D 7AU
0207 287 5555
website