Things I’ve learned about moving…

Looking at Gumtree every day causes a black hole of despair for the hope of humanity.

People seem to believe that sharing a bottle of wine together bonds flatmates… Let me tell you about the countless bottles of wine consumed in my presence  by an ex-flatmate and the accusations and tearful life secrets that followed. Like an episode of Springer.

Is it really advisable, in an ad for a flat, to say that they have a few ‘un-official’ residents? So it’s a commune then?

And in the same ad, to say they have had to get a cleaning lady to solve a few hygiene problems. Sounds amazing, when can I move in?

Many, many people believe themselves to be creative and are seeking other like-minded creative types. One ad described themselves as into ‘slow food, Kurt Vonnegut and Spanish films’. If people were really as creative as they believe, we’d be stuck in a perpetual Renaissance period.

There must be a huge demand in the market for brown velvet couches and black leather couches. Note to self: new business venture?

People in Brick Lane have no living rooms. How sad. Must be why they clog up the streets with their pretentious, twat behaviour.

Apparently you can go to Speed Flatmate nights, where presumably you meet and mingle with these people and go home with a suitable new flatmate. Can anyone see where that might go wrong?

When an ad describes ‘two working girls’ looking for a fun, male flatmate and shows a picture of said girls, instead of room, it is almost a given that it is an ad for sex. http://www.gumtree.com/london/85/43403485.html

Estate agents are liars.

There are a lot of weirdos out there and I am certain that I am more afraid of them than they are of me.

The word ‘near’ is grossly misused.

And the realisation that soon I will be living in a cardboard box.

Joey doesn’t share food!

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2009/aug/10/manners-ettiquette-sharing-food

So it’s not good manners to share food eh. Oh dear, I knew I’d never be invited to Buckingham Palace, but I didn’t think that leaning over and forking up some of the Duke’s mash would be my downfall.  People ‘clearly just not feeling comfortable with such intimacy’.  Is this a British thing? Maybe it’s the people I hang out with having absolutely no fear of ‘germs’ or good manners, but eating off each other’s plates seems to be de rigueur. Of course they’ll preface it by saying ‘ah we’re all friends here’.

But I’ve friends of ten years that I would never dream to eat off their plate. Actually I would dream of it and have sat there, dying to reach over and grab something particularly tasty. But I don’t, why? Probably because I fear that they were better brought up than me and would be horrified by my appalling crassness.

Growing up with my sister gave me a little insight into how these people feel. She would wilfully grab a chip from your dinner plate and then swipe it through your ketchup… the feeling of violation still gives me the creeps. If you’re stealing chips, dip them in your own ketchup, don’t plate rape me.

Clearly in my house there were no rules about elbows on the table or drinking water and eating at the same time. I have heard stories from upper class friends of having their dinner whipped away for the slightest transgression. Nowadays that Jamie Oliver ideal of sharing food and eating family style is trying to eradicate these ‘good’ manners and I love it. Enjoying eating out is all about trying what everyone else is having, if you’re stuck to just eating your own dinner,  how can you ever educate your palate?

Now, are you going to finish that?

London is in dire need of spiritual guidance … who ya gonna call?

Have you seen these ads in the Metro? I think they’re wonderful. Look at all these talented spiritual guides coming to London to help out the good people here. 47 years experience, talented since birth… what more could you ask for? Seems a bit unusual that so many of these ‘healers’ have flocked to the city, maybe we are just crying out for help more than all those fortunate African people.

No matter how difficult your problem is, Mr Madiba, a gifted African spiritual healer can help. Thank God, because Mr Madiba I’ve played a bit fast and loose with the company’s finances and I could really use your help.

If you are thinking I’m worried these kindly men might turn out to be total shysters and steal my money, never fear. They allow you to pay after you get positive results. Yes, I’m sure that’s true.

Crazy Austrian Cuisine

I promised this post a while ago and while it’s not like I am disappointing my legion of followers (ha!) I thought I better cough it up, if only to warn future visitors to Austria. These are a few foodie snaps from our not so recent snowboarding trip to St. Anton, Austria, oh and one of me in action!

No offense to the Austrians, but let’s face it… they’ve never met a carb they didn’t like. Our trip was characterised by meats wrapped in other meats, breads, dumplings and assorted noodles. Fruit never really gets a look in and salad, my staple go-to meal, was tainted by odd apple sauce substances, too much mayo and pickled things.

Breakfast was assorted breads with cheese and sliced meats, lunch was a choice of some kind of dumpling, meats or meaty soups and dinner was more of the same or fondue. After every meal I felt like I was swimming against a tide of food. I just don’t know how the Austrians do it… they all seem healthy and strapping, but their insides must be breaded and fried.

Schnitzel, sausage wrapped in bacon.

Fleischkase – which possibly translates as meat cheese, but is actually some slab of meat, often with a fried egg on top.

Gah, Weiss Schnitzel and pretzels

See what I mean about the salad.

Yes, this is actually food. It’s Spinach Dumplings with a Gorgonzola sauce or known as Indigestion Waiting to Happen.

Rosti with bacon, chips and a fried egg.

Fondue, eugh always seems like a good idea at the time but translates as big ball of cheese sitting in my belly.

Saltimbocca Romana – or a hot mess. Classic Italian dish, translates as hopinthemouth, veal wrapped as prosciutto with risotto balls.

Chocolate bunny. I didn’t let him hop away.

Creamy, appley pastry thing.

They like to dye their boiled eggs, I don’t know why.

Apfelstrudel!!!!!

Since I am a vegetarian, it is weird that I have so many pictures of meat, right? But the Austrians are not so fond of vegetarian food, so you mostly just get pasta or strange salads.  I did enjoy seeing my holiday companions chow into their bizarre lunches and not end up curled up in the foetal position on the Alps, rocking back and forth.

Homemade Cupcakes

Because I just wasn’t getting enough sugar this Easter weekend, what with the copious amounts of Ben and Jerry’s and chocolate eggs consumed, I decided to make cupcakes. Yes … make not buy! After a disastrous attempt making chocolate cupcakes off an online recipe, I followed the basic cupcake recipe from the Good Mood Food Blog. Mine are not as creative as those pictures! The cakes came out perfectly light and airy, but the icing was just a little off. Too buttery perhaps, just not like the ones you get from delicious bakeries. I felt a bit ill after two buttery, sugary creations.

Sigh! Plus I got icing like everywhere. Icing bags are truly a nightmare and you seem to need twice the amount the recipe suggests, since it goes everywhere.

But aside from those issues, it was a relative success and I will attempt again with less buttery butter.

Food must be in towers, towers!

Veggie Camembert Burger

Huddle round veggies and hear the tale of a giant burger! Normally when you chance a veggie burger, you get some form of unidentifiable veggie mush patty but not at the Gourmet Burger Kitchen. Call me a food snob, but this is one of the only chain restaurants I would recommend to a friend. After visiting Sunday Upmarket, which is lege by the way, we ordered up a gut full of food at the GBK in Spitalfields. As it was our first visit there, when I was ordering the Veggie Camembert burger the description had a lot of ingredients in it, (sweet potato, Portobello mushrooms, roasted red pepper etc) so I assumed it would be mashed to a pulp and deep fried. But no, it arrived with a fanfare of rocket in a giant tower. The people at the next table sniggered, I look shocked, it tasted goooood!

I did have to deconstruct the tower to eat it and then it was like a burger/salad bonanza. I’ve included a pic above in case you don’t believe this fairytale of burger heaven (in the background you can see the normal sized Avocado Bacon Burger the bf ordered). A couple of downsides to GBK you have to order at the till and pay beforehand, service then is quite slow and erratic as clearly they don’t expect to be tipped with this payment method. Also if you want to order an extra portion of sauce it costs a whopping £1.55. Jeesh!

Have you been Snogged?

A sinful Snog down Soho way? Go on then! The frozen yoghurt phenomenon has finally hit central London with the recent opening of a branch of Snog Pure Frozen Yoghurt on Brewer Street.  Stylish and sassy, Snog is a boutique style shop, white with hot pink accents and cute illustrations on the wall.  They even sell Snog jewellery and merchandise, so you can let everyone know you’re a Snog slut.

Snog is one of those new breeds of cutesy businesses, a bit like Innocent, and it was evidenced by the little pink van with Beep if You Like Snogging on the side outside the shop. It’s always a bit intimidating to enter a place where you don’t know the menu system, but I marched to the counter and started to peruse the selection. Snog do three basic flavours Chocolate, Green Tea and Natural and the toppings; fresh fruit, cookies, nuts, granola, brownies… brownies? I went for a Little size of Chocolate with brownie topping… oh come on it’s fat free!

The Snog-Mobile

The frozen yoghurt is sweetened with Agave nectar (?) and boasts itself to have no fat, no artificial sweetners, low in calories and probiotic. Forget about that, you want to know what it tastes like, right? Like your first kiss at the local disco, Snog ticks all the right boxes, but might leave you feeling a little unsatisfied. On a blind taste test I would probably identify it as chocolate, but there is a strong kick of that lightly sour natural yoghurt taste. No way would you confuse this stuff with real ice cream. The mini brownies were fab though, moist and nutty.

Snog’s prices might give you second thoughts in these recessionary times. Sizes go from Little to Massive with cheapest being £3.55 for a Little with 1 topping and priciest: Massive with 4 toppings £9.90. Doubt even I could manage almost ten pounds worth of ice cream but I’ll definitely be back to try the other two flavours.

Snog Soho
9 Brewer Street
London W1F ORG