The original Bakewell pudding

And...relax. I've only just recovered from an intense week which involved driving 300 miles across the country to interview a rather lovely lady for work. Despite being no specialist in oral history, I was somehow nominated to lead on interviews for my project (how?), and spent last week in the Peak District. Though beautiful, that part of the country has more green space than London, so was a lot grassier, muddier, and general squelchier underfoot than I am used to in my urban cocoon.

A small ray of sunshine in the trip (apart from my interviewee, who was charm itself) came in the shape of the original Bakewell pudding shop, just a stone's throw from our hotel.

As a girl who was happily raised on the Mr. Kipling monstrosities - and still retains a soft spot for them - I was more than a little intrigued by this wholesome original. What makes it a pudding and not a tart? And why does it look so, er, rustic (or splat on a plate, as my colleague so kindly put it).

Well the pastry is puff and not shortcrust, lined with jam, and has a crunchy base from the caramelised sugars that have seeped through. Lovely. And instead of a thick layer of child-friendly icing, it's topped with an almondy custard, giving it an unfamiliar wobble. My verdict: tasty, but tooth achingly sweet. One to be enjoyed in thin slivers with a pot of tea perhaps, and not bolted down instead of breakfast in an otherwise bare kitchen, the morning after returning from a trip away. My mistake.

New ingredients: Sweet tamarind

This little fruit caused quite a stir in my office when I took some in last week, so I thought I should introduce it here too: sweet tamarind.

When I grabbed a handful of these to nibble at my desk for breakfast, I had no idea that they would become the centre of attention. Cue curious looks and manhandling. Although lots of my colleagues were familiar with the type of tamarind that is used in curries as a sharpening agent, no-one had come across the sweet version before. There was lots of interest, and plenty of inuendo. Yes, they look suspect, but they taste delicious.

In the immortal words of my boss, "this is going to sound stupid, but it tastes like...tamarind". Yes, it does taste like tamarind, only far less sharp, almost jammy in fact. The texture is something like a date, slightly fibrous but also squidgy. There is a mellowness to it that is absent in the cooking type.

Getting into them can be tricky - the bark is hard and brittle, almost like a shell, and needs to be cracked open. The fruit inside is covered with a thin, spidery branch-like structure, which should also be removed before eating. Watch out for the shiny brown pips inside! To be honest, if I'd had a banana in the house, I would have taken that for breakfast instead, but I was having a disorganised start to the day.

If you fancy trying them in the convenience and privacy of own home, boxes are widely available in Asian stores in London, or here online. Just don't show them to the people you work with.

Soggy biscuits

For the biscuit-a-holic in your life.

I wish I'd found these brilliant cushions before Christmas, they would make excellent gifts for people with children. Designer Nikki McWilliams showcased these little beauties off at the Top Drawer trade show here in London a couple of weeks ago.  I think they hit just the right nostalgic note, riding the same wave of golden childhood memories that have made retro sweeties so popular for the past few years.  Best accessorised with a tea stained sofa...

Diamonds are a girl's best friend

It's hard not to be excited about the Diamond Jubilee in June -not only do we get an extra day off work (hooray!) but there are all sorts of Queeny bits and bobs gracing our shelves in the lead up.

I love this wind-up musical Jubilee biscuit tin from Fortnum and Mason which plays a twinkly nursery version of God Save the Queen. Marvellous stuff. I discovered it whilst hunting for a classy biscuit gift for my partners' aunt, who is kindly lending us her apartment in Portugal next weekend (and requested a delivery of PG Tips). You can take the girl out of Britain, but...

It has a proper old world feel to the metal tin - like a toy from childhood - and the biscuits are a suitably trad Cornish clotted cream digestive. Plus you've gotta love a dancing lion/unicorn combo haven't you?

Makes me come over all teary eyed for her Maj it does. Sniff sniff. Gawd bless her!

B-logging into the new year

Happy new year! Apologies for the lengthy silence, I was struck down with an unwelcome bout of festive flu and have since been luxuriating in the wonderousness of my own full health. Sometimes it's enough just to feel normal again...

People keep asking what my favourite Christmas present was this year, so here it is: a grow-your-own wild mushroom kit, imaginatively gifted by my other half (thanks lovely x)

The kit consisted of three types of plug, each impregnated with a different mushroom mycelium (the spore that mushrooms grow from). To grow the mushrooms, all we had to do was insert the plugs into freshly cut logs, drilling holes and then knocking in the plugs with a hammer, before sealing with a protective log wax.

Drilling holes for the plugs

Adding the mushroom mycelium

Sealing the surface with wax to prevent contamination

We foraged three lengths of freshly cut oak from a nearby wood that had been cut back, which we plugged and are now settling in under a bush in the garden.  With luck, I will have a bounty of shitake, oyster and lion's mane mushrooms sometime around Autumn.

It's a lengthy wait I'll admit, but half the fun was putting it all together and waiting for it to grow. Who says you have to choose between delayed gratification and instant pleasure?

Pampered with hampers

At this time of year I start to fantasise about the much-anticipated rest ahead - lazy lie ins, breakfasts in bed and possibly even the occasional afternoon nap in front of some Christmas tv. And the only thing I can imagine that would make any of these activities any more alluring would be a magnificent hamper of culinary goodies to tear into.

This week, I have mainly been daydreaming about...

The Bompas & Parr Adventure Hamper, £699, from Selfridges (limited edited of 5)
Not so much a hamper as a survival kit - this includes antimalarial cucumber and quinine gele, pickled shallots and juniper for jellyfish stings, raspberry and violet jam for altitude sickness, plus some kendal mint cake in case you get lost between the bed and the kitchen. Not sure what I'd use the pick axe for over the Christmas holiday but I do love a practical gift.

Hamper for two with lobster and crabs, £75, The Colchester Oyster Fishery
Ever since my trip to Essex and my first taste of their delicious oysters, I've wanted more, more, MORE! If I had this hamper, I could sip champagne and oysters on Boxing Day morning. Bliss.

Annabel's Limited Edition hamper, £3000, The Mount Street Deli
The best of everything, with a Christmassy bias towards panforte and hot chocolate. I can't hope to ever receive this under the Christmas tree so I should probably start saving now.

Dry and mighty

Clockwise from top left: Live by the sun Love by the moon by knifeinthewater; Peony tea towel by Bloomsong; Kereru bird by melinamartin; Tea On The Go by slidesideways

The never-ending onslaught of yuletide cheer has brought back a recurrence of last years wet and wild teatowel fantasies, with these little beauties at the top of my wishlist for stylish drying in 2012.

Yes, at least one friend, family or unsuspecting secret santa receiver will be gifted tea towels this year.  Apologies if it's you.  But this seemingly dull present is, I think, forgivable for its solid pragmatism.  When William Morris demanded - 'have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful’ - he was bang on the money.  

For me, these comely teatowels tick all the right utilitarian boxes, and best of all they're available through that most diverse site, the lovely Etsy.  Thanks Etsy, I don't know how I'd do Christmas without you!

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Please, please, please could you find me one of these gnocchi boards for sale in the UK?

I've looked everywhere but there's nothing. I promise that I'll be extra good in 2012. I'll sort out my spice rack, my dishes will ever be spotless, and my shoes always polished.

Just let me have authentic, soft pillowy gnocchi with ridged edges for my sauces to cling to, without international postage costs.

thanks Santa, you're a star x
thanks in advance

Irv x

The London Honey Company

Ah, the sweet smell of accidental success! I stumbled across the London Honey Company's open house at Maltby Street a couple of weekends ago, not entirely on purpose. But what a wonderful accident... Their office doubles up as a workshop where they cut the honeycombs and coax honey from wooden frames.  The air is thick with the intoxicating scent of busy bees work.

Steve the beekeeper is on a mission to get us to try London's delights, bringing us honeys from the breadth of this city and beyond.  I chose a sticky wedge of honeycomb from Wapping.  Ask nicely and they might direct you to their stash of bee pollen.

It was a decent chunk of comb, hand cut and prettily boxed, but unfortunately so delicious that we were unable to stop ourselves gobbling up the whole thing in one sitting, one sliver at a time, with a loaf of sourdough.  Heaven.

If you're passing their way on the last Saturday of the month, I highly recommend that you pop in for a visit. They're extremely friendly and patient - and didn't seem to mind explaining to me where honey came from...

-----

The London Honey Company
Open studio at Maltby Street on the last Saturday of the month
54-58 Tanner Place, 9am-2pm

Going conkers for chestnuts

I've been humming Christmas songs to myself all week, which I guess means the festive season has well and truly started. Selfridges opened their Christmas shop in August this year, so I figure that I am now fashionably late to the party.

Thanks to Amber for bringing this wonderful, but not entirely necessary, chestnut roasting pan by Hunter Gatherer to my attention.

Not since the woolley stocking has an object so captivated my seasonal imagination: can't you just picture yourself sitting in front of a roaring log fire with the scent of roasting chestnuts filling the room...? Bliss.

Eat me drink me

I felt equal parts disturbed and fascinated to see this perfect replica of a baby at the V&A's new show, The Power of Making.

Made from cake, marzipan and icing by Sussex maker Michelle Wibowo, it is a captivating object of craft that strangely repels and attracts in equal measures.

It reminded me of the pink lipstick-smudged aunts who insisted on kissing both my cheeks when I was a little girl, because "you're so pretty I could eat you all up!".

Ice cream for stormy weather

photos: © Dezeen Limited

Well it's certainly not ice cream weather here in London this week. I'm already regretting the decision to bare my legs today and I haven't even made the journey home yet.  Bah!

On the bright side, I think I've found the perfect place to indulge on a wet and windy day. Polka Gelato is new (and therefore bright and shiny), within handy cone-licking distance of my office in Bloomsbury, and has a slightly sombre, monochrome interior which won't upset my sun-starved eyes. All very welcome things on a dour day.

Go forth and lick! I'll race you.

Urban style

I’m loving the new season of kitschy home wares at Urban Outfitters, especially these Bird Salt & Pepper shakers and set of Regency Cake Tins. It’s almost enough to make me start my Christmas shopping a mere five months early. Almost.

A fine romance

Yesterday, I fell in love in Paris. No, not with a dashing Gallic man with flashing eyes and tousled locks. Of course I fell for the food, namely some stand-out fabulous patisserie.

I was in Paris for a meeting (a one-off moment of glamour in my otherwise London-based life!) which catered for our lunch from "a little bakery down the road". Of course when you work in Paris it is normal to have an historic patisserie next door, naturellement? And so we were treated to simply the most incredible spread of charlottes, macarons, tarts, mille feuille and other sweet concoctions that I've ever seen, courtesy of Pâtisserie Stohrer on Rue Montorgueil.

Since it doesn't do to eat more than one dessert at a work meeting (honestly, it broke my heart) I made my choice carefully: just one, but my god it was delicious. A crisp, buttery pastry tart base filled with pistachio mousse and topped with fat, glistening strawberries. It makes my mouth water even now to think about it.

If you're ever in Paris, I urge you to seek out this place. Go with an empty stomach and leave a few pounds heavier but very, very content.

___________________________________

Stohrer - pâtissier traiteur
Magasin au 51 rue Montorgueil
75002 Paris
Open 7 days a week, 7:30am to 8:30pm

Like to lick?

I'm loving these spoon and jewel ice cube trays from Muji - perfect for filling with sweetened strawberry puree for mini ice-lolly nibbles. Summer on a stick.

Jamie Oliver's Recipease: Knife skills

I'm not always the most coordinated person in the kitchen - I had a close call last month which involved the tip of my nail, a small amount of blood and a lot of cursing. So when a charming man asked if I would go with him for training in knife skills, of course I said yes.

Clapham is pretty close to my neck of the woods in South London and has one of the two Recipease Kitchen and Food shops run by Jamie Oliver in the UK. The other is in my home town of Brighton, which I took as a geographical hint to book myself in.

We arrived - literally - under a dark cloud. The heavens opened on the journey over and having made the rather fatal decision to go on a motorbike we were both completely soaked by the time we got there. But still smiling. Thankfully the store was warm and inviting, with Mr Oliver's tasteful kitchen nicknacks and recipe books scattered around deli-style foods for sale.

Our teacher was very patient as she showed our small group the basics about selecting knives and sharpening, then how to chop, slice and dice the various ingredients for the Thai prawn and mango salads which we later ate. I love that I can now correctly slice an onion - it's all about perfecting the strange hand claw that chefs use to safely slide their knuckles along the chopping surface. I'm not speedy yet, but soon...

My top tip for home cooks: use a teaspoon to scrape the papery skin from ginger, retaining all the juices that sit close to the surface, and also to remove the seeds from fresh chillies. I'm afraid the complexities of the claw cannot be shared here, you will have to discover that one for yourself.

Recipease
Clapham Junction
Battersea
48-50 St Johns Road
SW11 1PR

Dancing in the street

I should probably stress again that I'm really not obsessed with the royal wedding, but I did get a little giddy when I saw these regal paper plates and bunting on Talking Tables.

Our right-on local pastor has organised a street party for the big day (T-minus 3 days...and counting) when the road will be closed off and since I live directly opposite the church, I will probably be attending wearing my finest red, white and blue.

In my fantasy street party, I want this bunting. I'd also like to be dressed in a perfect approximation of a 1951 housewife, but that's rather unlikely so I'll settle for these fabulous paper plates - are they super classy or kitschy tacky? Who can tell, but I know they'd look rather fine loaded up with fairy cakes and scones on the big day.

A Right Royal cuppa

I have successfully resisted the royal wedding fever that has been sweeping the nation (ok, the tabloids) but these WillKat teabags from Liberty are testing my resolve. And I always thought a posh cuppa just meant ditching the teabags for a pot of loose tea.

I'll be dunking a good old-fashioned custard cream into my brimming cup of Wills and saving my jammy dodger for Kate. Gawd bless 'em.

Liberté, fraternité, égg-alité

Well it's not Easter without at least one bad egg pun is it?

I love all the fuss surrounding this time of year - egg rolling, egg painting, egg eating.  If it's oval or a chocolate related activity, I'm on board.

My rose-tinted memories of primary school include the annual Egg Tableau competition, where pupils would battle to eggs-hibit the most punning creations; I won in 1988 for my impressive Eggs-plorers on an Eggs-pedition to Mount Everest. Very subtle use of cotton wool I thought.

The Liberty Easter Egg Hunt is basically a nostalgic, grown up version of the creme egg hunt in your local park. Except you can use it as a pretence for rifling through four floors of delectable fashion that will surely make your mouth water as much as the Prestat eggs that are up for grabs.

If you're lucky enough to live or work near here then hurry down before the 21st April to be in with a chance.

Morning glory

I'm still recovering from the weekend.

Not because I was out dancing all night or at some glamorous event that trailed on into the early hours. No, I was up at 4am on Saturday morning visiting Billingsgate Market, home to 1001 species of fish - about half of which I'd never seen before.

Billingsgate is located slap bang next to Canary Wharf. It's an incongruous piece of old London still alive and kicking in London's financial hub, a fish-gutsy anomaly amidst all the gleaming glass and steel of the city. Everyone loves a survivor don't they?

I was lured out on this uncharacteristically early jaunt by a friend with new-found culinary zeal and the promise of buying sweet, juicy crabs. But like true shopaholics, we ummed and ahhed our way through the bewildering range before eventually coming back with a pair of crabs, a kilo of enormous unshelled prawns, 2 kilos of mussels and and a cluster of oysters. Something to nibble on while we prepared the crabs apparently.

Ok, I wasn't that hard to convince.

Some tips for visiting the market:

1) Wear sensible shoes. Definitely don't wear ballet pumps like I did, as you will find yourself followed by a mysterious fishy odour for days afterwards...

2) Take an ice pack for keeping things cool on the journey home

3) Don't name the crabs that you will have to plunge a knife into later on. The look in Freddie's eyes as we lifted his tail to deliver the killing blow...I will take it with me to my grave.