Where in the world? Part 1 - Rocking the Kasbah

In under 3 weeks I've flown to Africa and back. Asia and back. Tomorrow I'm flying to the US. 5 days later I'm back in London. Two days later I'm back in the US. And so on and so forth...

Even though I've literally worn out the wheels on my suitcase and slept twice in my bed over the past few weeks, I wouldn't trade my recent adventures for anything in the world.

Part 1 - Marrakech.

KC and I took a cheeky long weekend to Morocco (Marrakech) for a few days of eating, not much drinking, and relaxing. Mission accomplished on all three fronts.

Highlights?

1. Discovering how much I love mint tea, particularly when served in silver teapots and accompanied by Moroccan sweets oozing with chopped peanuts, honey and coconut. NB: Discovering the tradition Moroccan sweet made with Orange Blossom was NOT a highlight. It was exactly what I'd imagine soap or hand cream might taste like if I was so inclined to give them a nibble.

2. Ordering the vegetarian dips 'appetiser' only to be served up 2 meals worth of deliciousness such as smoked roasted aubergine, carrots with cumin, pumpkin, mushrooms, courgette - each delicately prepared and tasting in their own right like they should be on centre stage.

3. Giving in to the pushy food sellers in Djemaa el Fna (I've never felt so loved by the attention I was receiving). So what if it was mainly because they wanted me to eat a kabob from their stall? I may not know who she is, but being told I look like 'Donna from East Enders' MUST be a good thing no? We may have passed on the silverware they gave us to use - doing it up old school with our fingers and bits of bread, but it was still an amazing experience - and one I'd suggest for those that aren't obsessed with cleanliness.

Discovering Le Peche Mignon

I interrupt whatever you are doing to inform you of a special news bulletin.

I’m officially a dummy.

It should be clear by now that anything of the artisanal / gourmet / foodie variety makes me very, very happy. I don’t haggle over prices, worry about depleting bank reserves or even question my sanity when occasionally spending more on food than rent (ok, a slight exaggeration). I think about food every day and map out meals days or even weeks in advance. And a little secret that’s probably not so secret, that ‘dream job’ that everyone has? I’m torn between hosting my own cooking show (yes, I’ve auditioned on two different occasions) and ultimately having my own sweet little bakery / cafe full of the best baked goods, signature salads and sandwiches and a few other special surprises that would make it oh so very Dana.

So, last week when I discovered Le Peche Mignon, a stylish little French delicatessen, serving a selection of soups, sandwiches, pastries and other take-away delights (Italian figs covered in white chocolate anyone?) I was blown away. LITERALLY it's a 4 minute walk from my flat (2 doors down on a side street from my dodgy GP on the shady stretch of Holloway Road). How was it possible I'd missed this little bijoux? It wasn’t new, it had been there for the 3 years I've been living right around the corner! How this had happened is actually beyond me. Maybe it's that when I walk that stretch of Holloway Road I try to get through it as fast as I can, not stopping to look left or right down those pesky side streets.

There’s a clear shady north London and cool hipster north London divide right about where I live. I think I’ve officially found the demarcation line in Le Peche Mignon.

The lesson learned is that even sweet little cafes needs good PR. Can you even imagine what they would have made off of me alone if I'd been tapped into this 3 years ago?

Springform says, kiss my bundt.

For Curley’s birthday last week I offered to make any cake her little heart desired. I had emailed through a few suggestions and while her general response was one of ‘surprise me’, she suggested a few delights that were some of her favourites, one in particular, Angel Food Cake (AFC).

Now a few preliminary comments regarding AFC:

1. AFC doesn’t exist in the UK, a few folks have heard of it; likely from being mentioned on an episode of 90210 or the Hills, but it’s not something you can pick up in the store or in a bakery
2. AFC (for those that don’t know) is a fat-free cake make with an exorbitant amount of eggs whites, which should ideally result in a light and airy type cake. Sometimes it’s then garnished with frosting or whipped cream
3. AFC was the one thing my mom always bought in a store. When I gave her a call to find out if she’d ever made AFC before she said: “Honey, I made one about 30 years ago – it stuck to the pan and I couldn’t get it out. Never again. It wasn’t worth it when the store ones were pretty good.”

Always up for a culinary challenge, I decided to go for it. I found a recipe with decent reviews that called for 9 egg whites (many others listing up to a dozen). I figured if nothing else it would be a bit of an adventure to make.

So with not much to go on I did a bit of research. Apparently AFC requires a special AFC pan. It looks somewhat like a Bundt pan but it has 'feet' for it to rest on. Some have removable bottoms like Springform pans. It’s critical (apparently) that you don't use a non-stick pan so the batter can grip the sides and pull itself up.

I was surprised and had a few chuckles over how many discussion boards there are on this topic. Shuffling through all of the research and opinions I felt like I was embarking on a science experiment.

So with no AFC pan in sight I basically had two choices – a silicone Bundt pan or a Springform pan (not non-stick). Many opinions I'd read said that you needed the hole in the middle of the pan for the cake to ‘rise up’. However, if a non-stick or silicone pan was used it would be flat and listless. Having to buckle down and make a choice, I went the Springform pan route thinking that avoiding a non-stick pan trumped using one with a hole in the middle.

And I'm happy to report that for whatever reason, it did actually work. Contrary to many naysayers who'd posted messages that said, without a AFC pan your AFC "will be a disaster."

Who knows, maybe they just didn't have the special 'touch' required?

All of that said, was it remarkably better than the store bought ones of my youth? Will I make it again anytime soon? Probably not. But once slathered in chocolate frosting, was a super crowd pleaser for Curley and her friends.

Ready Freddie?

January’s Guilty Pleasure’s theme was the fantasmical “Night of One Thousand Freddies," marking the 40^th anniversary of Queen. Ah-mazing.

To give a bit of background into falling in love with this theme; when I was a wee one I got a massive Sony 5-disc CD changer for my 12th birthday. With my shiny new present unwrapped, clearly the next step was to head down to Caldor’s to buy a few CDs and give it a test drive.

Contrary to my cheesy taste in music back then, it wasn't the Bangles, NKOTB, or Salt ‘n Pepa that I headed straight for. Yes people, heavily influenced by 3 older siblings and growing up on a diet of Classic Rock and Entenmann's - it was Queen’s Greatest Hits I.

Considering the homage that was due, I was posed with a basic (but difficult) question. What on earth type of cupcake might represent Freddie? Could I dress it up in drag ala I Want to Break Free? Frost them in black and white in honour of Freddie's magnificent outfit in We Are the Champions…

Thinking about it long and hard (about 10 minutes whereby I made the question my facebook status and waited for suggestions), I decided really – was there anything more iconic than Freddie’s beautiful moustache?

With that I prepped some Yellow Buttermilk Cupcakes (a nice staple, erring slightly on the dense side) from the Martha Stewart Cupcake cookbook, used some Vanilla Buttercream which was leftover and had been in my freezer for about 6 weeks (still tasting...parfait), and whipped up some Chocolate, Sour Cream, & Cream Cheese frosting (also from Miss Stewart but with reduced fat SC and CC instead) for the perfect 'stache.

The chocolate frosting ended up a little thinner than normal, making the consistency similar to that of a thick pudding (which then became a self-fufilling prophecy as couldn't stop shovelling it into my mouth like it WAS pudding). I bordered on disgusting. I was feeling a little Chunk-like from Goonies. Particularly because I'd forgotten to reduce the recipe by 3/4 (as originally planned) and had a massive bowl that could have frosted about 4 dozen cupcakes let alone decorate 2 dozen with mini-moustaches. Good thing using up the Vanilla Buttercream freed up that space in the freezer, eh?

Dinner party cheat

I’m naughty. I cheated. Tsk, tsk – I know. But before you go ahead and judge, let me explain.

Last weekend I had a dinner party for a few friends, co-hosted by the lovely AW. The thing is, because it was at AW’s beautiful 2-bed Notting Hill flat and not my rented Holloway abode I was able to:

• Not do much prep work or cleaning
• Simply direct our main course (goulash) virtually since it needed to be prepped the day before
• Rock on up 2 hours prior
• Sneak away late-night leaving poor AW and Studd a cacophony of dirty dishes (I blame this entirely on the heated debate over the Kindle Reader which took us way past midnight)

So yes, I claimed equal parts glory on what was an absolutely lovely evening and meal – but let’s be honest my role really entailed:

• Steaming some green beans and roasting some potatoes (not exactly climbing Everest here)
• Dancing around to some fabulous 80s cheese, funk, and jazz and voting yay or nay for our dinner party play list
• Reducing and doctoring the goulash sauce (not exactly rocket science but of considerable value add since we needed to work with a whole lot of acidity) … brown sugar really is a miracle worker
• And last but not least, making and serving up one of my new favourite desserts…which if you replaced the butter with a non-dairy substitute would even make the recipe vegan (not that I’ve any strong desire to use anything else besides delicious lightly salted French butter)

It was a really fantastic night – filled with great banter and of course lovely food. I’m looking forward to the next AW / DB dinner party. I’m even happy to host in Holloway, as long as we have that amazing playlist!

Fig (lounge) Bars

So this was actually the second batch of these lovely ladies I’d made during a six-day period. The first I’d just done for a bit of fun, convincing myself they were healthy (oats, figs, nuts) and hence didn’t need to feel bad about eating 2 a day for 5 days straight.

Seeing as it was a Saturday night out, I wanted to gussy them up a bit - I figured that if I could wear something that made me sparkle – well so could they.

Unlike earlier in the week when they were just unwrapped from a bit of tinfoil, when serving them for the dinner party I cut them into larger rectangles, heated them back up in the oven ala fig-crumble like, and plated them with some lightly-sweetened whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. That night AZ made a comment to one of her friends about my modesty when it came to my baking, which I actually found quite sweet (and funny). Now, I’m the first to admit when I’ve made something and it just hasn’t turned out quite right – but there was no error in these little gals. I actually do believe there was moaning (of the good variety) around the table upon consumption.

If you can - use real butter and please, swap out those unattractive walnuts for toasted pecans. Other than that, the reheating and whipped cream is entirely up to you.

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Oatmeal-Fig-and-Walnut-Bars-356871

NightmAIR

I couldn’t make this shit up even if I’d just completed a 2-year creative writing course. Now I know the main point of this blog is to share what I'm eating and drinking, but this tale of woe must be told. Even if the food / drink doesn't play centre stage.

This week, Wednesday morning to be exact, I flew on British Airways from Boston to London. Things started out very well – I had a complimentary upgrade, I’d checked my overweight bag in on a belt with a broken scale (“yes sir, I’m sure they are less than 50 pounds each”) and had plenty of snacks (pineapple, a blood orange, yummy cherry oatmeal cookies) to get me through the morning / afternoon flight so as to not be subjected to the dead-awful airplane food (styrofoam eggs aren't really my thing).

Things seemed to be going very well, when just about the time I expected to be told we were approaching London, the pilot came on and told us he had something different in mind. Due to inclement weather (um, about 1 cm of snow) we were being diverted to Newcastle. “Not to worry folks, we’ve already arranged ground transportation for you and after we land we’ll have a 3-hour bus ride down to Heathrow.” So hover over Newcastle we proceed to do until, Cap comes back on…

“Sorry everyone. Conditions have deteriorated in Newcastle. We’re going to Glasgow now.” So hover over Glasgow until Cap comes back on for a third time…

“Um, sorry about this. Looks like a few other planes have thought to do the same thing. Look out the windows; you’ll see lots of planes. Ha-ha, don’t worry objects are farther away than they appear! We’ll, um…will be diverting and landing into Prestwick, on the coast of Scotland.”

I’d like to say that this was the worst of the experience…but BA had more in store for us. When we finally landed and collected our baggage from Prestwick airport (a one terminal dinky airport) we then proceeded to queue for over an hour to get on busses and be shuttled to a hotel 1-hour away. Unfortunately the lucky folks that were at the end of the queue (yours truly) we’re sh*t out of luck. They didn’t have enough busses for all of us. So we proceeded to sit in the freezing airport with no food or drink until about 90 minutes later when they were able to procure one for us. 60 minutes later, at 1:30 am, we were finally at the Marriott.

Happy to finally be checked in, around 2 am I called down for room service. Clearly BA would be covering a bit of food, right? Well no. And seeing as this Marriott only had 4 things on their 24-hour menu (lamb, chicken, shrimp, and veggie curries) I had no desire to spend £20 out of my own pocket. Instead, for what ended up being my lunch and dinner I ate some lemon pound cake. I’d made this (quite scrummy cake) for my mom the night before I'd left. She’d suggested I take some with me and I very nearly declined. How glad was I that I didn’t? Stressed, cold and not very sated, I still managed to fall asleep around 3 am.

The next morning I was woken up at 8 am with a message that the bus would be picking us up in an hour and that we were heading back to Prestwick to board our plane and fly down to London, Yippy!

So arrive at Prestwick we do – me and the other approximately 299 folks from my flight. All checking back in at the same time. As well as two other diverted flights from the US. Remember I said the airport was tiny? It was absolute chaos. After about 45 minutes of waiting in line an announcement was made:

“Sorry everyone, but Terminal 5 at Heathrow has been closed and we will no longer be flying you down to London. We’re arranging coach service which should arrive in a couple hours. The drive will take about ten hours.” Seriously, shoot me.

If mayhem hadn't already been ensuing, it starts now. To add salt to the wound BA tells us we won't be reimbursed for taking trains or renting cars. A 10-hour coach journey is our only option if we want to avoid incurring any fees. Honestly, no wonder BA is going under. What a dumpster company.

However, things then improve (before they get worse again). Another announcement that Terminal 5 is back open – YAHOO! So back into the queue we go. Things run smoothly for about 10 minutes when after a bit of time we all start to notice that we’ve not moved in the line. Why? A check-in / baggage system failure.

Unable to accommodate so many passengers the airport’s check-in system crashes. It’s another 45 minutes before it’s back up and running. Then about 40 minutes of successful check-in…(I’m very nearly there!!!)…. when the airport alarm bells go off. We are then evacuated from the airport due to what turns out to be a burst water pipe. Once resolved, back in the queue we go.

Right so fast forward 45 minutes more, I'm checked in, I'm through security, a rubbish “ham and cheese toastie” has been consumed. I think I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. So be it that we won't depart for London until around 5 p.m., I’m getting home at a decent hour tonight!

Or not. The rest of the evening proceeded something like this:

1. The gate we were meant to disembark from had a frozen / stuck plane. Joy. Rectified after only 1 hour.

2. Disembarking the plane at Heathrow: We needed to be shuttled to the main terminal on busses. Surprise surprise, BA had only arranged one bus for 300+ people which meant that only about 60 odd people could disembark at a time. Then we would have to wait until the bus drove over, dropped people off, and drove back again to the plane. Again, only another hour.

3. Luggage: I waited at the luggage belt for 3 MORE HOURS for my bags. With no word from BA on where they were or what the issue was. A promise of bottled water while we waited to then be told they’d run out. A customer service rep walking around wearing a sweatshirt that said “Can I help?” which when I asked about our bags he proceeded to say, “Um, I don’t know no one has told me anything.” And finally….

4. 5 hours after having landed I met the driver of the car I'd arranged for a pick up only to be told that because he’d been waiting so long my £50 cab was now going to cost me £126.

I can't think of any other time I've been as happy to get home as I was that night.

Essentially Nothing

The past 7 days have been some of the worst since I had Mono (Glandular Fever for you Brits) back in 2005. It’s also the first time I’ve needed to take sick off of work since then too. Told early in the week by the doctor that it was a chest infection I returned with additional symptoms on Thursday to be told that actually it might also be piggy flu. Even though I do have some residual symptoms I can finally see the end of the tunnel – and am finally starting to feel quasi-human again.

Needless to say my food consumption this week has been refined to the glories of water, tea, Lemsip, chicken stock, and a few other really fabulous items like Dioralyte.

So in an effort to find a bit of humour in a really not-so-funny situation...here are my top 4 reasons why it’s good to have the swine flu (I wanted a top 5 but for the life I can’t think of a 5th, so if anyone can shed some light – please do).

Top 4 Reasons it’s good to have swine flu:

1. Instant diet: Can’t think of any other way I would have lost 6 pounds in 6 days
2. Instant Money Saver: Lucky me (not) I had to cancel lots of fun plans – savings estimated at around £120
3. Lying in bed, in misery, staring at the ceiling is actually more exciting than my current project
4. To the inappropriate man who last Saturday thought it was acceptable to pull me off the stage and land one on me without so much as asking. SERVES YOU RIGHT. I called you a pig at the time. How apropros.