London has been experiencing an unusual bout of summer lately with temperatures reaching well into the high twenties, and public annoucement systems advising the townsfolk to keep hydrated amidst this “heat wave”. Coming from the sunbaked shores of Australia, I can attest that this most certainly is not a heat wave. But it is warm, and it does provide an excuse for me to visit Itsu for its delightful frozen yoghurt three days in a row this week.
When we went to Nobu, Park Lane, for the first time last September, we ordered the Chef’s Recommendation, which is a six course degustation of the tastiest offerings from the menu. Included in the menu was one of Nobu‘s signature dishes – the black cod in miso, which was hands down my favourite course (only beating the chocolate fondant with green tea ice cream by a whisker!). I slowly ate my black cod, tasting every morsel of the fish and sauce (heavenly!) willing this dish to never end. And when it did I was overcome with the urge to lick my plate clean; I mean would anyone really see me? I did think about it.
I first discovered this miniscule parcel of joy at the Lindt Cafe in Sydney, and marvelled over this half-biscuit half-cake creation with a delicate shell and soft, sweet centre. I’d never seen one in my twenty-something years alive, and little did I realise the impact it would have on my life and the repeated trips I would take to Ladurée, Burlington Arcade, London, in search for the taste of one, just one, pistachio macaroon.
Without fail, every single weekend (at least those that I actually spend in London) I wiggle my way out of bed shy of midday, and make my way down to Le Pain Quotidien on Great Marlborough Street, Soho. Usually I ignore the wet-from-the-London-drizzle outdoor seats and head straight indoors towards the large communal tables (or smaller private tables, if that’s what you prefer), all made from reclaimed or reused sources.
Last night we had a couple of friends over for dinner, for some good food (I hope!), good vino and good conversation. The evening turned into a competitive, physical, sweat-inducing tournament of Wii Tennis instead, but hey I hope the food was still good!
When I went to Barcelona, Spain for a weekend last October, on the first day we ate Mexican food. Yeh I don’t know why either. And on the second day, I was hit by the mother of all flus, and had I actually been able to squeeze a morsel of Spanish food past my tonsils (which felt like they were the size of baseballs) I would have done, and probably raved on about it. But alas, I painfully swallowed my cold and flu tablets, and stayed in bed…
So this time round, I wanted to get in as much as I possibly could in the two days we were there.