Sunday 29 June 2008

MOOD FOOD: Sleepy summer salad

Anyone who's suffered from insomnia will know that getting through a day at work after a bout of nocturnal turning and tossing is an ordeal, but going out and making conversation with friends at the end of the working day is impossible, no matter how much you love them.

Mattress moulding, blind shutting, duvet tossing, work worrying, surreal thought drifting, cat in kitten heels pacing (must make that vet appointment for the nail clippings) ylang ylang on pillow resorting, my night of sleeplessness couldn't have been any worse. Imagine my delight therefore, when, wilting after a day at work, Charlotte phoned me to say that we weren't going out after all, we were staying in for dinner with some treats from John Lewis Foodhall.

It turned out that going out on a Monday night was not the most appealing prospect for our local friends (I'd be the same) and that Charlotte and her mother were tired after their excursion around town.

So 40 winks after getting home, and another 10 winks for good measure, I sloped downstairs in my pyjamas to see what Charlotte had rustled up. A lidded pan was bubbling on the stove and I was sent out to get some mint from the garden. I was too tired still though to be kitchen detective and numbly I trundled out into the fresh evening air to snip some exhilaratingly fragrant leaves from the plant on the patio.

Returning to the kitchen, I watched the kitchen queen tear some rocket leaves onto a large plate and then open a series of exciting deli pots. Because Charlotte's mum hates both the seeds and skins of cucumber, the slender green vegetable got subjected to some harsh penetration by the apple corer by mum bought me from Lakeland. It worked a treat though and this was then chopped into small chunks, flung into the rocket along with an assortment of other ingredients and within minutes the plate was magically transformed into a pile of treasures, glistening with some mouthwateringly fragrant dressing.It was the perfect antidote to my drowsiness - fresh, fragrant and hydrating, with enough variety of textures to keep me awake just that little while longer. Plump, juicy artichoke hearts, rich sun-dried tomatoes, the occasional caper, goat's cheese crumbles, cucumber chunks, tasty dressing and the perfect accompaniment, minted, buttered new potatoes.

G-Cups and Sauces

I'm currently counting down to Next Saturday, a big day in our calendar.

Because we're two gay girls living in London you'd assume that I'm referring to the annual Gay Pride celebrations, but no. You see, there's one thing (in fact, you could say two things) forgiveably bigger than Gay Pride for us gay girls, and for those gay boys too.

Dolly Parton. Singing her heart out in venues throughout the UK this week, she'll be performing at the O2 at the weekend and we're going to see her on Saturday night. We saw her in concert last March at Wembley and instantly got hooked on the Dolly drug, ravenously consuming her extensive back catalogue, her film repertoire and her autobiography over the subsequent months. In fact, the hunger was so great that it had us heading to Dollywood and Nashville last autumn. Does this make us sound like obsessive fans? I guess it does, and admittedly at times like this week we probably are.

So, to honour our hunger for all things Dolly and mark the countdown to Dolly Day, Charlotte and I will be having a week full of Dolly Dinners. Will it be pink iced buns toped with glace cherries and big round blancmanges or will it be southern-style barbecue sauces and other delectables from the little lady's own cookbook, Dixie Fixin's? Well, you'll have to wait and see. We're off to Sainsburys now and later today will be munching our way through the first delicious Parton Plate.

A culinary landscape

I've been celebrating my new found freedom this week, whilst I take a sabbatical between jobs. This offers the opportunity to take advantage of London's rich culinary landscape by partaking of some of my favourite meals out as well as sampling some new restaurants.

I began the week with one of my personal indulgences, which unfortunately Beth doesn't share - dim sum. I always head for the Imperial China in Lisle Street. It's a traditional place, and not quite as glaringly contemporary and trendy as some recent additions to the area but it suits me none the less. You enter over a little wooden bridge spanning a small pond and then indulge yourself in a heady world of succulent steamed char sui buns and a perfectly crisp Vietnamese spring rolls. To me it's perfection.

The next day, my mum and I headed down to the Horniman Museum in Forest Hill and then decided to have lunch at the Rosendale in West Dulwich, voted London's best gastro pub last year. The lunch menu was sufficiently creative and we feasted on a shared platter of barbecued meat and prawns on skewers. The quality was great and washed down with half a Leffe, it certainly hit the spot.

Later in the week Beth had a day off work, and so we ventured into town again. This time our destination was Ottolenghi in Islington, somewhere I had desperately wanted to visit, so much so that I was willing to haul my cookies into North London for the pleasure! Did it live up to expectations? Well the answer is..I don't know! But one thing is certain, the service is crap. We waited ten minutes to be seated in a half filled restaurant, despite there being an abundance of staff. Our anxious looks were ignored, whilst "supposedly" more trendy and affluent North Londoners' needs were swiftly catered for. Eventually we saw them clearing a small table for us, to then see it being nabbed under our noses by someone already seated at the communal table. No apologies, nothing. Were they aware that we were going to probably spend a nice sum of money, plus splash out for a bottle of lunchtime vino? No idea, but somehow I just think our faces didn't fit.

How did it end? We headed down to the safety of South London. Borough Market to be exact. We feasted on chargrilled burgers in Black and Blue and experienced swift, friendly service throughout. And yes the place was full of suits, but it didn't matter, everyone was treated as an equal. As they say "it's grim up North!"