!t's The Agency* 1st birthday bash!

Last night, Tuesday 28th June, my friend Nikki invited me to the first birthday party of an events agency, !t's The Agency* (www.itstheagency.co.uk).   It was held at Haberdasher's Hall near Holborn, which is a venue with a garden furnished with giant toadstools, huge sweet chairs and a fountain. 

As we walked through the great, black gates, we were greeted by a bubble machine and clowns on stilts.   As with all these events, we needed to go to get our name badges.   Normally Nikki tells whoever is asking that her friend from work couldn't come, so she has brought another one (me) and everyone says that this is fine and I get a make-shift badge.   This time, when I was asked my name I felt incredibly put on the spot (was it Michelle? Amanda? Naomi? ...) but luckily Nikki was on hand to save me with her usual spiel.   The door man was very nice, but he asked me to come with him so that he could make me a new badge.   So, we went to the badge making machine and he asked if I had my business card (no ...) and then proceeded to ask me to sign the register and tell him which company I worked for.   Again, my mind went completely blank as I had forgotten Nikki's company, so I quickly scanned the list and chose ... London Business School.   It worked, and he merrily typed me out a name badge: phew!   It would have been mightily embarrassing if I had been caught out.   I wonder, in this situation - is it best to tell the truth? (my inclination is that when there is free food and booze available ... no.)  

Anyway, once I had got through that ordeal, Nikki and I circulated the room and picked at the canapes.   There were mini burgers with tomato and onion relish; champagne, truffle and mushroom risotto in square, glass jars; mini pizza slices served in boxes; mini hash browns served in fryer baskets; and raw tuna sashimi, along with other delights.   It was all delicious, and an interesting difference from the Claridge's event, which was more typically glamorous.   There was a band in the garden belting out hits and clowns and magicians milling around, entertaining the crowd.   At 8.15pm we were ushered upstairs for speeches and the 'desert stations'.   What are they? I hear you cry.   They were tables with mounds of chocolates, sweets, lolly pops and cupcakes.   On the other side if the room there was a large table, where the caterers made 'food art' - artistically smearing and throwing about glacier cherries, honey comb and various sauces.

At 8.30pm Lady Gaga took to the stage.   Not the real one, no, but an impersonator with long, peroxide blonde hair, and not very many clothes on.   She belted out the hits very tunefully, and, although I generally hate impersonators, she was pretty realistic.  

The dance floor filled up quickly and Nikki and I danced crazily with our fellow eventers.   Once the shapes were well and truly being thrown, I decided to subtly take my London Business School badge off as I didn't want to tarnish their reputation ... (although, personally, I think I could have only boosted it!)

Wyndstock, the Country House Party

On Saturday afternoon (26.06.11) my two friends, Heather and Emily, and I went on a car trip to the New Forest. Why? For an event called Wyndstock http://www.wyndstock.com/, hosted by the eponymous Mr Viktor Wynd (probably not his real name).

Driving through the beautiful countryside, through flat moorland housing horses with their foals, the weather was easy, breezy and wonderfully warm.   As we drove through the gates of Pylewell Park (an enormous country house, think Pride and Prejudice) I was struck by how wonderfully small-scale the actual party/festival was.   Having been to a few festivals in my time, I much prefer smaller ones, the ones that don't require a life-jacket and four days worth of pants just to get from your tent to the music.   This festival took over one field, with 500 party people, two small music stages and a food area and an amazing view over the sea towards the Isle of Wight:

We first of all chose our camping spot (away from thistles, trees, mounds and cow pats), a surprisingly tricky task.   The girls and I started unpacking our tents with gusto, but within five minutes we were all flumixed, so were rescued by some heroic country gents who proceeded to take the task into their own hands.   Once the tents were up we went for a stroll around the venue.   It seemed a lot like a private garden party, I lost count of the amount of people who asked me 'who do you know here?' 'how do you know the family?' etc. to which we mumbled rubbish about the Internet, which felt a little lame in the grand scheme of things.  

Incidentally we found out about this through The Last Tuesday Society http://www.thelasttuesdaysociety.org/ (Viktor's events company), so, although we had paid £60 for our tickets, we felt a little like gatecrashers.   As the sun sunk, so did the social conventions of a polite garden party.   People became more friendly, and we met lots of lovely guys and gals all up for a jolly good shindig in the country.  

Included in the ticket price was afternoon tea, dinner and breakfast.

Afternoon tea was cakes, scones and cucumber sanwiches all beautifully presented on a mish-mash of cake stands and floral plates:

Dinner consisted of local venison (shot on site) spit roasted:

Licking our lips at 8pm, we joined the queue for our dinner, but, alas, it took two hours to get to the front, as the organisers had miscalculated the amount of time it would cook the food (they were doing it all themselves, which is admirable, but also perhaps slightly over-ambitious!) When we finally got to the front of the queue all the venison had run out, as had the (cooked) baked potatoes, so we ended up eating tough-as-old-boots lamb, freezing cold, raw potatoes and lentils (which were tasty, thank goodness).   By this point I was hungry and rather grumpy, so I did eat it, as, under those circumstances it would take a lot for me not to!  The evening then became brilliant, with bands playing and everyone getting down on the dance floor.   I would love to tell you about the rest of the party, but if I did, I would have to kill you ...

Lorraine Pascale

In Sainsbury's today I saw Lorraine Pascale, the model-turned-TV chef (you might have seen her programme, Baking Made Easy, BBC, 2011).   Let me describe how I recognised her: a very tall black lady walked past me with a short, white, bald man.   The man is entirely irrelevant in this story, but I instantly thought (terribly of me, perhaps) 'how on EARTH did he get her?!'   I caught up with the dynamic duo around the butter and cream section, and, as soon as I saw Lorraine's face, I recognised her.   As said in one of my previous entries, I can spot a celebrity from a mile away, and I particularly recognised Lorraine from her teeth, and the fact that she has that very definite 'model look' (tall).   I to'd and fro'd between going up and saying hello, but she seemed a little stressed, and, as the self-service machine broke down in front of her, I thought it would be probably best to...um...not.

Lorraine particularly interests me because, as far as I can see (from my extensive google research), she is the only British black female TV chef.   We have Ainsley Harriet, who despite the name, is quite clearly a man, whereas the women chef contingent is represented primarily by homely Delia and sexy Nigella.   I wonder why this is?   I say Britain needs more ethnically diverse female TV chefs please!

If you are interested, here are some of Lorraine's recipes:  http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/chefs/lorraine_pascale 

Is the only way Essex?

When The Only Way is Essex (TOWIE as it is now so fondly referred to) screeched onto our television screens on 10th October 2010 it was an instant success.   What was on offer was a group of utterly pampered princes and princesses with a penchant for all things fake (boobs, nails, tans ...) and the party lifestyle.

From the first time I heard the theme tune, to my first view of Mark, Lauren, Amy and co. I was hooked: each episode was jam-packed with the escapades of a group of people who, in terms of their stereotype, were just as you would imagine.   Thankfully the 'characters' don't take themselves too seriously, which makes it all the more compelling to watch - the episode where Sam, Amy and Joey go 'glamping' was hilarious, with Joey strutting around in tighter than tight jeans and bright orange Uggs, trying to make a toilet in the ground using a stick.

Moreover, Amy is clearly a clever girl (head girl at her school, and runs her own, successful beauty salon), yet she is happy to appear as a ditz for the entertainment of the world at large, and yes, I do believe it is an act!

I like how the episodes are filmed only a few weeks in advance of airing, so the subjects are relevant to us, e.g. their Royal Wedding party, where Nanny Pat produced a very special royal sausage plat, was shown the day after we too, had celebrated the union of Kate 'n' Wills. 

Another thing that has been great to watch played out on screen are the complicated love lives of these people: Lauren taking Mark back (in spite of his painfully obvious lack of respect for her); Lydia and Arg and their never-ending 'should we, shouldn't we get back together' and the sweet-as-pie relationship between Joey Essex (his real name) and Sam Friars.   

So, my initial question was, 'is the only way Essex'?   No, clearly it isn't, but it certainly is a way, and an eye opening one at that, which I am grateful for.   The new series starts in September, and I cannot wait!

Claridge's, darling!

My very good friend Nikki invited me to an event at Claridge's in Mayfair this evening, Thursday 16th June.

It was organised by the Maybourn Hotel Group, entitled Claridge's Speakeasy, a 1920s themed night held in the newly refurbished ballroom.   As we swept through the circular doors into the marble hallway we were ushered to the reception table which was filled with name badges.   We swiftly got ours and were directed towards a bookcase and told to knock.   We oblidged and it opened!   It felt incredibly grand, and a little 007, I almost felt we would be greeted by Ms Moneypenny (wouldn't that be amazing?!)   Instead (thankfully) a bevvy of waiters welcomed us offering us glasses of champagne and pink cocktails in martini glasses.

The room was huge and dimly lit by gigantic chandeliers and tea lights, and was filled with beautiful business types dressed in black and adorned in glitzy necklaces and sky-high heels.   We circulated the room briefly before deciding to station ourselves on a dark sofa in the corner with a mirrored table in front of us.   As we sipped our champagne the waiters hovered and filled our glasses whenever they threatened to be any less than seven-eighths full.

Then the waiters started bringing the food out: teeny-tiny portions of beautifully presented, delicious food.   Nikki and I soon realised that we were in the prime spot of the room, as it was at the beginning of the waiters' route, so they came to us with the choicest canapes.


We had:


Hors d'oeuvres:

• Mini fish and chips with tartar sauce served in newspaper cones

• Gazpacho served in square shot glasses

• Devils on horseback (prunes wrapped in bacon, which proved to be an amazing combination of sweet and salty)

• Wild mushroom vol-au-vents

• Fillet steak (chunks of prime beef, which were melt in the mouth) on wooden skewers

• Goat's cheese mousse on an almond biscuit, topped with quince jelly
• Fois gras topped with a fruity jelly (this was the second time I had tried it; it was ok, but still not my 'thing')
• Thin pastry boats filled with pea puree, topped with a miniscule asparages spear

Mains:

• Pasta bolognese (I couldn't believe they were attempting to serve al dente pasta to a crowd of hundreds, but they managed it, hot, not over cooked, and tasty)

• Fish pie, served in mini china turines, filled with chunks of fish and topped with mashed potato 

• Moules frites

• Risotto flavoured with anise

• Caesar salad (a very welcome break from meat and carbs)

• Waldorf salad

• Prawn cocktail

Sweets:

• Chocolate and vanilla macaroons (black with a white filling; it left my mouth and tongue a dark purple, not attractive by any means, but still delicious!)
• Chocolate sponge with a white chocolate shard

• Mini ice creams, including chocolate, strawberry, mango and raspberry

At the end of the evening we were given a goodie bag each - containing four Pret-A-Portea chocolates, a mini bottle of Jack Daniels and a Claridge's apron.   It was a superb evening!

The Great Chicken Challenge

At the beginning of last week I cooked a roast chicken, and lived off it for the rest of the week.   It was fantastic, as I felt that not only was I saving lots of money on weekday suppers, but also it meant I had a cooking challenge for every evening, which was hugely therapeutic after inevitably long days at work.   So, I have done it again, and decided to blog about the different recipes/meals I have created.   Enjoy!  

Roast Chicken:
I like my roast chicken quite simple.   People use lots of different ingredients to flavour the meat, but I quite like it erring on the side of plain.   I do, however, always place the chicken on a bed of roughly chopped onions as, at the end, they produce dark, gooey gunk which turns into the most delicious gravy when mixed with water (no need for gravy granules here).   For this chicken I had a hankering for a lemon flavour so I stuffed the cavity with lemon wedges, after having rubbed one of the lemon wedges onto the breast and legs to aid moisture and flavour.   The whole thing was topped with olive oil and salt and put into the oven at Gas Mark 7.  

Chicken Stock:
I was particularly proud of the chicken stock I made as it was the first time I had created it (tending to throw the carcass into the bin, shock horror!)   After boiling the carcass for two hours, I sieved the juices into a jug and popped it into the fridge.   I was pleased with the beautiful deep yellow-ochre jelly that was covered with a thick, white layer of fat (my mum knowledgeably informs me that this is the best type of stock).


Below: The boiled up bones all mushed up from squeezing every last drop of stock from them!

Below:   The stock made from same bones

Brown rice risotto:
I used the stock to make a simple, very rich risotto of brown rice, with lemon juice and parsley sprinkled on top.   I usually like to grate cheese on top of risottos, but I didn't need to due to the fantastic quality of the stock.   I decided to use brown rice as I enjoy the nutty flavour (and the feeling of self-righteousness when not eating white carbs).   It must be noted, however, that it did take a lot longer than normal risotto rice does, and the texture was slightly more al dente, but it suited me fine.    


Chicken pizza:
I used a very quick pizza dough recipe, taken from http://www.greatpizzarecipes.com/Pizza-Recipes/pizza-dough/quick-pizza-dough-recipe.php although I adapted it using brown flour.


Below: Me spreading the dough into my pizza base tin.  

I topped my pizza dough with plain chopped tomatoes mixed with tomato ketchup (this is all I had, ideally I would have used some sort of Pesata), with a selection of left over antipasti, including green and black olives, sun dried tomatoes and mini mozzarella balls.   I sprinkled the garlicky, herby oil from the antipasti over the top, to give it more flavour.   And then, the piece de resistance was some torn chicken breast, taken from the roast chicken, of course, on top.   I didn't have any other type of cheese, but if I had had some Cheddar I may well have grated that on top too.  


Below: The uncooked pizza ready for the oven.

Packed lunch:
I packed a nutritious and delicious lunch of chicken drumstick and thigh, iceberg lettuce, tomato, a lemon wedge and a dollop of mayo.   It all fitted neatly in a left over takeaway tub, and was perfect for a quick work-day lunch.

Chicken and avocado salad:
I felt like having a salad, so this is what I produced: iceberg lettuce, avocado, chicken with an olive oil, balsamic vinegar and lemon dressing.   Simple.

A side note:
If trying to make lots of meals from one chicken, I would suggest you buy the best quality one available to you.   Mine was a Sainsbury's, free range, Taste The Difference one.   I have roasted chickens and used the meat for other meals in the past using 'own brand' chickens, but the tasteless, flabby meat really put me off, so I have tended to go for the better quality version, for only about two pounds more.

Come Dine in Medway? Yes Please!

I am a fan of Channel 4's Come Dine With Me.  Always have been, and (probably) always will be.  I feel compelled to write because there was an unusual occurrence in last week's cooks from Medway in Kent: they were nice!  Yes, actual nice, funny, sociable people who were there to have a laugh, eat some food and win a grand.  
The diners were (from left to right in picture): Nina, the 67 year old African lady with a penchant for the gym and who can claim the most infectious laugh in Kent; Patrick, the 21 year old posh art graduate with a superb ginger moustache; Laura, the bubbly, blonde bar maid who practically had a panic attack whilst crushing biscuits for her lemon cheese cake; Michael, the dad of one and semi pro footballer who nearly wept on day 2 because he wasn't getting as much attention as Patrick; and Esther, the straight-laced police communications officer who, by the end of the week, had cut her loses and stooped to the others' 'level'.  All loud, all brash, all brilliant!

Although I loved their personalities and the fact they 'got on', it was warming to observe them doing their best to eat the food (including scooped out cucumber with corned beef and 'unethical' foie gras), regardless of the hideousness of it, and being polite about it if they didn't like it: Michael, who hates fish, cheese, mushrooms, foie gras...you did a stirling job!

Unfortunately, politeness is a rare occurrence on the programme: I have been left open mouthed at the rudeness of contestants in the past: rushing to the loo to spit something out or craftily passing it over to baying pet dogs.

This focus on the social side (and the disintegration) of the dinner parties was less prominent at the beginning of its airing in 2009, where the focus was on (generally) middle class people cooking (generally) tasty meals for a few strangers.   Now it so often descends into the culinary equivalent of The Jeremy Kyle Show.   Funnily enough, the programme has never been more popular.  

Sampling in the Square

Today I indulged in one of my favourite past times: wandering around the Saturday food market in the Duke of York Square, Chelsea.   The market is a relatively small one with roughly thirty stalls displaying a whole host of culinary delights, from fresh, green coconuts to sea-salty oysters to intricately detailed cupcakes.

The first stall I went to was Galeta, a cookie and brownie stall, aptly described as 'Cookie Heaven'.   I had a sample of their chocolate brownie, and goodness me, it was DELISH: baked on the outside and beautifully rich and gooey in the centre.   I also tried their tiffin, which is a version of the classic fridge cake (broken biscuit mixed with dark chocolate and golden syrup, and whacked in the fridge for a few hours).

Next was Peggy's Cupcakes: a beautiful range of home baked, gourmet cupcakes topped with swirls of pastel coloured icing and sugar flowers.   Absolutely stunning and a great treat for the discerning cupcake lover.

I then decided to venture into the savoury and landed upon Conscious Food's stall: "an Indian organic food company producing hand baked, artisan snacks since 1992."   Their range of goods are gluten, dairy, wheat and yeast free, and only use 100% natural ingredients.   So what do their snacks taste of? cardboard? absolutely not!   I tried their Cashew Nuggets, Sesame Chews, Finger Millet Dippers and Sorghum Millet Crackers with Hummus.  Power Snacks by name, Power Snacks by nature.

My final stop was at the Rainha Santa Portuguese Foods Ltd stall where a range of condiments awaited.   I by passed these, favouring the smoke and air cured sausages (chouricos).   The chouricos are marinated to take on a range of flavours, including red pepper, garlic, wine and spices.   Their website suggests eating these chouricos in stews and soups, or fried and eaten with chunks of bread, olives and red wine: yum.

SPOTTED!

I saw Chris Eubank this evening in the Soho branch of Vodka Revolution.   My friend Kate made the very valid point, "what the hell is he doing HERE?!"  

He happily posed for photos with fans, and seemed pretty chuffed with the amount of recognition he was receiving.  

He was looking very dapper with a crisp, pink shirt and turned up jeans, and the obligatory man-bag.  He was surprisingly handsome and seemed in fine form.   Hurrah.

Katie Piper

Speaking of good role models, I met Katie Piper last night at Fez Club in Putney.   On 31st March 2008, Katie's life changed for ever when her boyfriend, Daniel Lynch, threw acid on her face, leaving her permenantly disfigured.  We chatted for about fifteen minutes and she seemed like a very sweet girl, who hasn't let this hideous experience ruin her confidence, or her life.   Congratulations my darling!

White Teeth

Q: What jumps out at you when you look at these two pictures of Girl's Aloud's Nicola Roberts?

A: Indeed. Her huge, gleaming white veneer enhanced teeth.


Nicola is a very pretty girl, whose natural good looks have always been celebrated.   A few years ago she was the pioneer for encouraging girls to embrace their natural beauty: she was the positive role model mothers were screaming for, yet where has this ethic gone? Apparently into her cosmetic surgeon's pocket. 

Veneering teeth involves sanding down the natural teeth and placing porcelain covers over the top.   After two weeks of temporary veneers, they are replaced with the permanent version.  It is not just women who feel the need to posh up their gnashers, Professor Green, the 27 year old rapper from Hackney, underwent the procedure because he wanted to change his (apparently) ugly six front teeth.   Teeth veneers were his best option because he "...couldn't rap with a brace." (Heat Magazine, issue 631).   Can you spot the six pearly whites below? Of course you can! They stick out like sore thumbs.