Photo-ready Tea at The Biscuiteers, Notting Hill...

One of my favourite, and yet equally, most frustration-inducing parts of living in London, is without a doubt how essential the camera of my much dropped, truly battered phone is to my daily life. And most of all, a fundamental part of almost every meal time...

Much to my boyfriend's despair (he doesn’t even know how to pronounce instagram, let alone use it...) said phone is whipped out before anything passes my lips; breakfast, lunch, dinner, coffee, cake, midnight snack- Whatever the food stuff, it must be greeted with a filter, blur and hashtag before it vanishes into my hungry, not so patiently waiting mouth. It is just so damn tempting. And, it is not just me. Irresistible to many a foodie that is spied rearranging candles, artfully ruffling napkins and standing on chairs to get the perfect aerial view of their rapidly cooling food before they can even contemplate building that first forkful. In our world, a flat battery before the food arrives is what disasters are made of.

Yup, this is an obsession that has the capacity to become a serious problem; we halt conversation midway to snap our partners panacotta, grabbing their menu to get the perfect table shot before they have even read through the bread and olives section, all with a slighty crazed look in our eye and an evil glare just waiting for anyone who even dares to knock our elbow mid-photo. Yes, our obsession with instagramming our plates is not only pushing the boundaries of acceptable dinner-time behaviour, but a sure-fire way to wind up dining partners until you have to start asking for a table for one. No wonder some restaurants across the Atlantic have started banning this phone-foolery for ‘ruining the ambience’. But stop I will not, this is an addiction from which I don't want to be freed...

A couple of weeks ago, resisting all temptation to keep my phone in my handbag and see things with my eyes rather than the lens; I had one of the most photogenic days in a long time (since the speckled eggs and glistening hot cross buns of Easter, as you can read here). The phone was in more demand than ever; snapping bacon and cheese smothered burgers and strawberry shortcake concretes at Shakeshack, stormy skies and billboards in Covent Garden and a pop-art hued Miley swinging from a wrecking ball on a wall in Hammersmith; it just seemed to be that every which way I turned offered another photo opportunity.

But one of the most coveted photos of the day had to be the red and white stripped cake stand that graced the shiny glass table-top in the overwhelmingly cute, cartoon-kitch Biscuiteers shop and tea-room in Notting Hill. Adorned with perfect, razor sharp triangles of smoked salmon sandwich with lemon and dill cream cheese, the brightest raspberry and blueberry macarons and topped off with the amazingly decorated, intricate biscuits for which this place is famous; I would challenge anyone not to whip out their camera. Even if only for the fact that Adele (yup, the actual one) was sat on the table next to us icing a gingerbread man.

But enough about that (and yes, I did resist the snap-happy temptation on this occasion...) what I am really interested in is, of course the food. The super-cute tea has a decidedly British theme, with crisp, black pepper specked cucumber sandwiches cosying up to perfect squares of Battenburg and delicious, lemon scented angel cakes. Brownies crowned with iced underground biscuits, a bright red phone-box gingerbread and those crisp, fruity macarons; all washed down with as much English breakfast tea as you can handle, this was one sugar-rush I could most definitely justify.

Usually going for £40 for two, the tea was included in the Emerald Street Afternoon Tea deal; an absolute snip for half the standard price. Perfect, and with enough to spare for a little black and white box illustrated with the super-cute shop front full of leftover treats, it is well worth a trip, even just to ogle at the iced bacon rashers and yellow yolked sunny-side up eggs in the English breakfast biscuit selection, or to wait out for Adele... 

The Devil in Pastel Clothing...

Crisp, shiny shells, cracking as you bite to reveal a mallow soft, chewy centre and a rich, tooth-numbingly sweet hit of the richest buttercream- Macarons may look innocent as they line up like pastel hued polka dots jumped off a Mini Boden party dress, but don’t be fooled- They are the devil.

A little while ago, during the first few nervy weeks of foraying into the world of product development, I was given the unenviable task of rustling up a big old batch of these little horrors for a (rather important) customer presentation. No pressure then...

No exaggeration, a batch of about 6 macarons took me around 8 hours. As my frustration reached fever pitch, many of the cracked, burnt and unrisen met their fate in the deep dark hollows of the bin, many more were hovered up by my less fussy colleagues as they prowled through the kitchen looking for an afternoon sugar boost (a daily occurrence, and this was a very good day for the more human-hover inclined of the office...) My life started to pass in a blur of food colouring stained fingers, bowls of stiff-peaked egg whites held over my head, and, high on sugar, wondering if I had finally, spectacularly, gone mad.

Overmixed, undermixed, enough to make you want to never look at a bag of ground almonds again; I finally and quite triumphantly, cracked the recipe at about 5.15pm. And here ensued an obsession. Determined to get these little buggers looking like they have jumped from across the channel from a candy striped boulangerie in Paris, I spent the next few weeks churning out perfectly round macarons like a sugar obsessed geometrician (real word, I promise).

Spiced rum and caramelised pineapple, Clementine and dark chocolate, coffee bean, white chocolate and vanilla, sour cherry and pistachio; the flavours were the easy part. The downfall was almost always the mixing. Macarons are without a doubt one of the most sensitive, needy delights to ever grace a cake stand. The key is to finding the optimum moment, where the almonds are folded into to the fluffy pillows of whisked egg just enough, but most definitely not too much. As Mary Berry says, the mixture should be the consistency of ‘shaving foam’. And it would be madness not to listen to her...

But really, the most important thing is practice. And a very large portion of patience. Keep having a  go; any that go wrong can just be put down as flavour testing, and you are sure to find many a willing helper to assist you on that front. Just keep thinking of that wondrous moment when you take a tray of perfect, crisp, shiny disks of delicate almond treats out of the oven. I imagine it is very much like lifting the winning an Olympic gold. Or maybe having your first child...

But the most exciting part, once you have mastered the mixing, are the endless flavour combinations you can conjure up with macarons as your canvas. Orange zest, vanilla, coffee, dark chocolate; filled with passionfruit curd, white chocolate ganache or bitter Seville marmalade- There are no limits to what you can create. Maybe just leave the bacon and egg combo at the kitchen door...

On this occasion, after many un-photogenic attempts, I went for delicately fragranced pistachio and rose water combination, and a zingy lemon number, bursting with lemon zest and curd. Sweet, soft, crisp, creamy and drop-dead delicious all at once; don’t let what I have made sound like an unnerving difficulty level put you off. Follow this recipe, remember Queen Berry’s word of wisdom (just chant shaving foam, shaving foam, shaving foam as you fold) and you will be on to a winner. Smug smiles at the ready...

Macarons, makes about 12

For the Macarons

135g ground almonds (or 75g almonds and 50g ground pistachios/hazelnuts)

175g icing sugar

3 egg whites

2 tbsp caster sugar

Pinch of salt

Your preffered flavouring (lemon zest, orange zest, almond essence, vanilla extract etc.)

A pinch of your chosen powdered food colouring

-

For the butter cream

150g butter, softened

300g icing  sugar

Your preferred flavouring (lemon zest, rose water, vanilla extract, cocoa powder, crushed raspberries or strawberries..Go mad!)

-

Preheat the oven to 180^oc

Blend the ground almonds and icing sugar briefly in a food processor until fine and well combined

In a large, clean bowl, whisk the egg whites with a pinch of salt until stiff peaks form. Add the caster sugar and whisk again until the mixture forms stiff peaks

Gently fold in the almonds, icing sugar, colour and your chosen flavouring, until the mixture is the texture of shaving foam- Be careful not to over-mix, but make sure everything is properly blended!

Pipe evenly sized rounds of the macaron mixture onto lined baking sheets and leave the macarons to form a skin (essential for a shiny top!) for at least an hour.

Bake in the preheated oven for 10-15 minutes, or until the top of the macarons are crisp and dry.

Leave to cool while you make the buttercream. In a large bowl whisk together the softened butter and sugar until light and fluffy, before beating in your chosen flavour and colour.

When the macarons are cool, sandwich with the buttercream and any other extras you fancy- Think lemon curd, jam, chocolate ganache!

Brixton Bites...

Now, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again (most nights, when a big plate of the smelly stuff appears to snuggle up next to a nice glass/bottle of wine); there is nothing better than cheese. Yup, the smellier the better, blue, yellow, the creamiest of whites, soft, crumbly, flecked with salty delicious crunchy bits; I just can’t get enough.

So when a recent outing took me past the charcuterie strewn front of Champagne + Fromage in Brixton Village; the fine, stinky, drop-dead delicious Reblechons and perfect, milky skinned rounds of Camembert were well and truly calling my name. Well, Charlotte is très français as prénoms go- what did I really expect?!

Beckoned by the rickety folding chairs, dotted with tartan cushions and clustered invitingly around brushed steel tables, several already boasting slender flutes of softly bubbling champers; this place is straight from the pages of my holiday album circa ’04 (without the dodgy tie die tankini, or even more dodgy henna tattoos). With most glasses of bubbles on the menu obligingly offering you change for a tenner, and the selection of cheeses and saucissons giving many a deli across the channel a run for their Euro, Champagne + Fromage is the perfect place to commence a night exploring the never-ending delights of the bustling, achingly-cool, foodie-destination into which Brixton Village transforms after the last of the daytime fish, meat and random cookware vendors pack away their wares and close up their shutters.

Now, be warned; the menu is not one for the lactose intolerant/vegetarian/- Plates of peppercorn specked, fat rippled charcuterie cosying up next to big wooden boards of fruity Brie de Meaux and blue veined Roquefort, and an extensive list of meat and cheese draped, olive oil drizzled tartines on the crustiest artisanal baguette, this is French food at its finest.

But, for 3 girls giddy on a couple of glasses of reasonably-expensive pop, on this occasion the only way to go was hunks of bread dipped into the ooziest of baked camembert. With options ranging from garlic and herb, to rounds flecked liberally with crunchy nuts, we opted for our wheel to be spiked with figs and thyme.  With just enough sweetness from the fig to cut the richness of the cheese, and fragranced perfectly with earthy thyme, the speed at which the whole cheese was demolished pays absolute testament to just how perfect this place is, whether it is for a quick aperitif or to take full advantage of the amazing French fare on offer. They even do afternoon tea complete with homemade macarons. C’est un triomphe.

Snuggled in blankets, the tables bordering the crowd of hungry revellers filling their faces with delicacies ranging from Japenese Okonomiyaki and crepes bursting with caramelised bananas and homemade butterscotch, to buns dripping with pulled pork; Champagne + Fromage well and truly cemented Brixton Village as my favourite foodie destination in London. Top the evening off with a legendary sour-dough pizza at Franco Manca and several lemon cheesecake martinis in Seven at Brixton and you have pretty much my perfect evening.

Food, friends et fromage. What more could you want?

Snappy Easter...

I am going to say something controversial. Not quite Miley gyrating her flesh coloured granny pants on Robin Thickes crotch at the MTV awards. Not even as shocking as Susanna Reid flashing her pants AGAIN on BBC breakfast (Yeah, yeah I need to stop reading the Daily Mail on the tube...), but pretty damn risque.  

 So here it goes, don't say I didn't warn you. Here goes the revelation that made my mother gasp last weekend...I reckon, hand on heart, that Easter is the most photogenic festival of them all. Yup even beating Christmas. Hands down, with a giant foil wrapped bunny and a six pack of Creme Eggs...

Now, I know the last weekend is about a lot more than pastel flecked chocolate eggs and glistening hot cross buns on a gingham table cloth, but I'm afraid that's just how it is. So, having lived the weekend through the lens of my instagram app, stopping sporadically to gobble down a few (bags of) mini eggs and butter a hot cross bun, I thought I would share a few snaps to back up my slightly strange argument.

Sure, Christmas has fairy lights and flaming Christmas puddings, but, really, nothing quite matches up to big jugs of Daffodils basking in the Spring sunshine, or an embroidered table cloth adorned with summer pudding, lemon cheesecake and my Granny's totally retro (but even more delicious) coffee pudding. Stuffed with layers of rich butter-cream and sponge soaked in coffee liquor, this devilish regular on our dining table is covered in the whitest of cream and a scattering of toasted almonds. Just perfect, and one of the many reasons I love this time of year so bloody much.

But, in all of this chocolate and Easter bunny induced madness, I must not forget the star of my Springtime show. The glorious, one and only Hot Cross Bun. Yup, becoming a baking obsession almost as soon as the Creme Eggs appear on the shelves, this year I finally (and totally) cracked it. Frangranced with cardamom, rich with the almost toffee like flavour of muscavado sugar and flecked with caramelised orange, this recipe is an absolute winner. Glistening, perfectly risen, light buns of joy; just leave off the crosses and hey presto, Easter-time happiness all year round. Instagram won't know what's hit it...

(Recipie to follow, I promise!)

X

Choc-o-Block

I can’t help thinking that Easter might just be the only time when being a chocoholic is not a burden but a much-envied blessing, when being able to handle more than a miniature tube of mini eggs becomes an achievement of Olympic proportions.

But, there comes a point when all this fun has to stop. When avoiding a sugar-rush of epic proportions becomes number one priority, just after finding a pair of elasticated trousers to fit your rapidly expanding waist-line. Yup, unfortunately, after too many evenings spent in a cocoa induced daze, there becomes a point when it all has to stop. In my house, it is usually when I notice my bedside table slowly beginning to transform into an exact replica of the supermarket confectionery aisle, or maybe when my handbag begins to resemble that of an overweight shoplifter with a serious sweet tooth. But, most sadly of all, is when I realise my ability to even look at a crème egg without feeling queasy has finally begun to dwindle; then I know that it really is time for all this chocolate to find another home...

But what to do with your glut of foil wrapped goodies when your sweet-tooth has finally given up the ghost? Hide it in your sock drawer for an emotional crisis or nuclear disaster? Experiment with chocolate facials? Nah, I reckon the only use for all those neglected eggs and bunnies is to smash them up, melt them down and bake the whole lot into something entirely delicious.

And look no further than this devilishly moreish throwback to my favourite way to use up all those goodies who somehow escaped your Easter bonneted rampage over the long weekend. There is simply no better way to start your chocolate spring clean than with these wickedly delicious Turkish Delight and Pistachio Rocky Road bars; delicately flavoured with neon pink chunks of Turkish delight and flecked with desiccated coconut. The crunch of pistachio nuts is the perfect contrast to the pillowy softness of pure white marshmallow, but throw in a bit of whatever you have lurking in the cupboard; raisins, honeycomb (inspired by a bloody delicious Jamie O creation I munched on in the departure lounge of Heathrow recently- immense), almonds, dried cranberries, sour cherries. Get stuck in to the ingredients cupboard and then tuck in with a vengance- They won’t hang around for long...

Pistachio and Turkish Delight Rocky Road, (makes 12, feeds 2...If you're lucky)

100g milk chocolate, chopped

100g dark chocolate, chopped

100g butter

150g golden syrup

250g rich tea biscuits

50g desiccated coconut

50g glace cherries

40g mini marshmallows

100g raisins

50g pistachio nuts

3 Frys Turkish delight bars, chopped

A pinch of sea salt

-

Line a medium sized baking tray (about 24cm square or equivalent) with greaseproof paper.

In a heatproof bowl set over simmering water; melt the butter, golden syrup and chocolate until smooth and glossy.

Put the biscuits in a freezer bag and break with a rolling pin, until you have medium sized pieces.

Mix all the dry ingredients into the chocolate mixture and stir until full combined. Tip into the lined tray and refrigerate for about 2 hours or overnight.

When completely set, cut into squares and get stuck in!

Nuts for it...

 Growing up. Yup, those dirty little words that spell the end of 4pm lie-ins, foam parties and nipping to the shops in your PJs, are becoming an all too frequent utterance in my life. From the day I realised I knew more about the bin-collection schedule than the line-up of the local club, to the sudden interest in the National Trust, and a certain penchant for floral crockery; it seems to have crept up on me. And I am afraid it might just be entirely unavoidable Yes, no matter how tightly you grip on to Teen Vogue; certain teeny-weeny changes add up, and suddenly you own 5 pairs of reading glasses (of which you can find none), have bought a 3 bedroom house, drive a Volvo estate and are a fully fledged adult.

 Ok, ok; maybe it’s not quite that drastic, but as suddenly dawned on me as I helped my Mum delicately slice bitesize morsels of smoked  salmon and fill miniature Yorkshires with blushing roast beef, I might be nearing one of those seemingly insignificant milestones myself. No, I have not quite traded in my oyster card for a family car, but as the vast majority of my friends settle into the 9-5 and are forced to get to grips with the hoover after several glorious years spent living in student houses that saw less of the broom and more of the bottle; I have realised that it is only a matter of time before the big one. Yup, I am ready for it- waiting with baited breath for the day a good night out becomes less dancing on the tables and more restocking the Kettle Chips and circulating the hummus...

Now, despite becoming a dab-hand at hosting dinner parties before I had even tied my first upper school tie (well, someone’s got to eat the ridiculous amount of food I churn out), I know that the time when it is unacceptable to turn up to an event with only a tube of lipgloss and a bottle of cheap wine is not entirely imminent. And yet, I am ready. And to be honest, despite desperately trying to cling on to the idea that I could still work a scrunchie or rock dungarees- I am not entirely afraid of this crudité wielding, bilini grabbing era to burst into my life and banish the Jaagerbombs forever. Well, maybe not forever, let’s not be too hasty now...

But I am suitably prepared. I already know that when the first drinks and nibbles invitation arrives, these out of this world, Honey and Spice nuts will be top of the list of party-food offerings. Crunchy, spicy, bursting with rosemary and red chilli and the perfect balance of both salty and sweet; these will guarantee your invite to the next civilised affair. Perfectly nibble-able (it is still OK to make up words when you are a grown up, right?) they are as easy as mixing, throwing onto a baking tray and bunging into the oven; perfect if you need as much time as I do to make yourself presentable for a night of champagne quaffing and canapé nibbling. 

And they will be equally quick to disappear. Particularly when accompanied by a nice glass of something cold and fizzy. And I am not talking about a Cheeky Vimto, we are grown ups remember...

Party Nuts

400g mixed nuts (cashews, pecans, hazelnuts, walnuts, almonds, etc. etc...)

3 tbsp honey

Squeeze of lemon juice

1tsp cinnamon

1 tsp mixed spice

A grating of nutmeg

1 tsp dried rosemary

½ tsp dried chilli flakes (or more if you like them hot!)

A good pinch of sea salt.

Preheat the oven to 180^oc. Line a baking tray with greaseproof paper.

In a large bowl, mix the lemon, spices, honey, salt and herbs. Add the nuts and mix everything up until evenly coated.

Spread onto a baking tray and bake for 12-15 minutes, stirring halfway through cooking, until golden.

Serve with a tipple of your choice...

The £10 Challenge...

This week, owing to a very unfortunate sequence of events involving one night out, one morning after and one vanishing debit card, I have set myself the somewhat ridiculous challenge of living on £10. In London. And avoiding starvation...

 

Yup, in the immortal words of Peter Andre, you would not be wrong in screaming ‘this is INSANIA!’ at this point, but thus far, 3 well fed days in, I am (sort of) on track. And that is not to say that I have not had essential purchases to make- I experienced the usual sinking feeling when my can of hairspray greeted me with the dreaded fruitless spray on Monday morning, scraped the dregs from my moisturiser bottle on Tuesday, and then blew a bulb to top it all off this morning. Drama.

But all is not lost; I live opposite a 99p store, remember. Which is a whole 1p better than Poundland, and every penny counts this week.  But, no matter how wonderful that budget wonderland is, I have still managed to avoid constructing my meals from limited edition kettle chips or multipacks of Haribo. Although I may start, that sounds delicious.

But anyway, stop getting distracted- Where was I? Oh yes, avoiding the dodgy looking ham in the 99p store chiller cabinet (yes, that does exist), and instead working my way through the contents of my overflowing fridge; something I probably should have done a long time ago. I just can’t resist a bargain you see- I spot a pack of half priced smoked haddock and it pretty much leaps into my basket and straight into the freezer, I am a sucker for offers, get excited by dented tins of tomatoes, and have a ridiculous urge to buy anything under 50p. Yup, I just can’t say no to a reduced sticker, no matter what random ingredients I end up stuffing into the depths of the freezer drawer. I think it may be an illness.

But this affliction does have its advantages. And these muffins are one of them. After raiding the fridge and emerging triumphant with a courgette, a funky looking piece of feta and a couple of eggs this week; I decided it was time to unearth the baking powder, dust off the cake tin and whip up some of these amazingly yummy muffins. Crammed with pumpkin seeds, rich with rosemary and bursting with a little sweetness from a handful of sultanas; these are, in my eyes, perfection on any budget. Eat warm, dripping with butter for brunch, tuck into your lunchbox for a mid-morning treat or just all in one go, straight from the oven. Who said you can’t have fun for a tenner?

Well, maybe ask me again at the end of day 7, and keep your fingers crossed that nothing more dramatic happens than £2 can cover before then...

Courgette, feta and rosemary muffins (Makes 12)

Adapted from this brilliant Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall recipe, these deliciously moist and flavoursome savoury muffins tick all the boxes; particularly good for drowning your sorrows when the £10 turns to £0...

200g plain flour

40g jumbo oats

2 tsp baking powder

½ tsp bicarbonate of soda

A good pinch of salt

A few grinds of black pepper

1 tsp dried or fresh rosemary

60g feta, crumbled plus another 20g or so to sprinkle on top

2 eggs

250g yoghurt

4 tbsps olive oil

200g courgettes, coarsely grated

40g pumpkin seeds

40g sultanas

Preheat the oven to 200C and line a muffin tin with 12 cases.

In a large bowl, mix together the dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, combine the eggs, yoghurt and oil until smooth. 

Fold the wet mixture into the dry, along with the feta and courgette and mix until just combined.

Spoon evenly into your muffin case, sprinkle with the remaining feta and a little rosemary and bake for 15-20 minutes, or until risen, golden and a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean.