I get my birthday cake... and eat it

Full-frontal Frangipane

This is my version of the infamous Page 3 from the newspaper proprietor none of us care to mention any more (not that many of us ever did).  It's shameless I know, the out-there, in your face, Frank Gallagher of a Frangipane, strutting its stuff, regardless of what its neighbours think.

So, here are some of the neighbours who probably should be worried but don't look as if they are to me. 

If you like cake, you'll love these

OK, ok, now I'm anthropomorphising cake.  Enough already.  And it's not just cake, they have the occasional tart as well.  That's a tart which dresses as if it's always an occasion - basically a tart you could take anywhere - you could even take it home if you were so minded.

But we were in Boulangerie Bon Matin, which Dalston and I have visited a few times since it's opened, but this was the first time for local Kam the cook.  You can tell when a woman (or a man) is that good at making puddings themselves (mmm, I remember the halva well), they will have a real feel for making a good choice.

The very tiny helicopter pilot flies again with camera on board

And that's what Kam chose: an orange sponge with a chocolate drizzle.  Let's take a closer look at the sponge.

Spongy sponge

Now, it sounds a little silly to caption something 'spongy sponge', but you'll know from what may or may not be extensive experience that a sponge can sometimes disappoint.  Not this one though, it had a lovely moist, coherent crumb.

Moist crumb speckled with strands of orange

If I were to have taken the photo a few moments earlier, you would have seen a tiny person walking off to the side of the sponge, you might just be able to spot them by looking for their shadow on the left-hand half of the sponge, right at the very top - do you see him?  What do you mean, you don't?  Now, come along, you must surely know that there are very small people who live in delicious, freshly-made, good quality food.  You'll never find them in mass-produced pap filled with preservatives because as they're so tiny they find them incredibly toxic.  You only find them in fresh, flavoursome food.

You're just kidding me now, aren't you?  Look, here's the evidence of the tiny people so that you can examine it at your own leisure.  They're like baby Borrowers or Lilliputians and they're very, very shy and retiring.  Unlike my frangipane, which was anything but.

Gather ye almonds while ye may and put them in a cake for me, you - everybody

Yes, probably everybody could do with a bit of frangipane - and let's face it, even if you don't bury your face in my frangipane - it always comes up trumps with the money shot.  Vielen dank, Kam, für mein kaffee und (geburtstag) kuchen.

You can do your würstchen (but you're not doing mine)

Piggy-packing porker

I had to do it, I really did.  It was the sight of Skinny Bib's latest dispatch from the Old Street front line, based at the Big Apple Hot Dog HQ which stripped the stiffness from my upper lip, rendering it all a-quiver.  I asked Scarlett if she could come but prior commitments to, I don't know, all sorts of things like pig cheeks and lentils, meant that she couldn't make a firm date until the week after next.  So, I tweeted Abiye just to make sure he was there and set off on the long trek South (in reality this takes about 25 minutes door to door if I use the train rather than the bus).

I was all set for a lonely dog but what I found were a couple of really great guys, Abiye of BAHD and lending a helping hand, Ed of Meat and Two Veg, fun, interesting, enlightening conversation - it was particularly good to hear from Abiye how he'd come to set up BAHD and his early days.  And it's not as if I forgot to eat either!

My starter

I started with the Big Dog, with onions (more about them later).  This is the pork and beef one.  It burst in the mouth, luscious, juiciness washing over my tastebuds, anointed with a bit of mustard and ketchup.  It was really good.  The buns are local and perfectly formed, soft, yielding, slightly sweet. 



Well-dressed Big Dog makes to set off for Shoreditch High Street

Just a quick word here about the ochre glow in which the dogs are bathed.  You'll doubtless remember how Roxanne didn't have to put on the red light.  Neither did the sausages.  However, the umbrella was up as the sun was shining which meant that most of my photos came up a little - how can I put this? - rosy or blushing if you prefer.  Nothing wrong with it, I'm partial to a touch of slap myself, but next time (and believe me there will be a next time), I'll take them out into the light so you can appreciate their full technicolour glory.

Big Dogs to the left, Mega Polish on the right with Franks to the (right hand) side

Side by side by sausage.  It's just like Sondheim, don't you think?  Come on, admit it, if you were a sausage wouldn't you like to be lolling about there with all your mates, knowing that when you get chosen you'll be going to a happy home, bringing joy into someone's life?  The sausage meister provides the goods.  He's local.  He uses 90% meat, and it is meat.  That is, it falls into strands, and separates into chunks.  I'll illustrate what I mean.

Look deep into my Dobry Polski (Good Polish) sausage

This is the piggy-packing porker with which I followed up my Big Dog.  Honestly, I could have eaten more but I thought I'd save myself for another time.  There's a lot to be said for delayed gratification.  Besides by that time myself, Abiye and Ed were deep into food-related conversation.  How we love good food.  How good food doesn't have to be expensive food.  How we dislike 'pile it high, sell it cheap, rip off the suppliers and people who would make good food if given the chance'.  How said supermarkets would find it really difficult to categorise us through our shopping habits as they're so erratic (and relatively infrequent).  How quality products, like great sausages, perfectly formed buns, and well-cooked onions will soon take over the world.

Abiye nurtures his caramelising onions

See, look at the love and care going into those onions.

Onions which have been loved and will be more so

I hope I'm not giving away any secrets here to say their natural allium goodness is enhanced with a few grinds of black pepper, fresh thyme, and a few sprinkles of soya sauce, which Ed then carefully...

Abiye and Ed

placed in the bun, with my prime Polish porker.  Do go, Tuesday to Friday, 12-6pm, outside 239 Old Street.  It's delicious, sustainable (the buns are baked and the sausages made locally, Abiye lives a couple miles up the road), and you will meet some great people - and that's just if Abiye and Ed are there.  Support your sausages, because if the bun were in the other hand, they'd do the same for you!

These sausages need you!

It's Franklin's with friends, preceded by kitty and cocktails

A fine forkful - find out of what further down

So, here I am, in Stroud Green, being virtuous and updating my blog (and having a rest day from the gym).  I'm listening to my birthday present from Dalston, magical violin sonatas by Biber.  I'm a very lucky woman.  And what better way to illustrate this than to describe the delights of my birthday, spent with Scarlett, Rhett and, you know who...

Misty

It was a day which, like Mary Poppins [don't you just love Julie Andrews?  I do] was practically perfect in every way.  Dalston was in Deutschland, admittedly, but I was consoled for his absence with wonderful company and the odd...

Passion fruit Martini

cocktail (or three).  First up was the passion fruit Martini, made with vodka (at my request), by Scarlett.  Truly scrumptious.  A teensy bit difficult in the pouring from the shaker due to the presence of the passion fruit seeds.  So, for the second bite at Difford's #9, we went for the margarita. 

Margarita

Scarlett apologised for the lack of margarita glasses and asked if I minded drinking from a martini glass.  Do you know the answer to this very polite question?  I bet you can guess if you've read more than one of my posts!  Of course not, said I.  I'm dedicated to being a very obliging guest.  It's not even a sacrifice really, it just comes naturally to me.  Margaritas, dangerous things, delicious, but dangerous.  I only got the one (good thing too), because next it was...

Misty

Oh no, it wasn't.  That's Misty again.  I know, fluffy, it's very tiring being so beautiful, isn't it?  Actually, I don't know.  If she were a human, she'd be a supermodel keeping us all in a style to which we are sadly unaccustomed.  Oh yes, the final cocktail was a Vesper.  Utterly delicious.  So, we were well set up to stroll across the common to Franklin's in Dulwich.

Great Vesper

The à la carte was tempting, however, the set menu had sufficient on it to satisfy our requirements which were...

Scarlett's starter

Rabbit liver with frisée and (looks like salsify but isn't) radish.  Tasted very delicious as did my and Rhett's...

Sprats on toast

I found them a bit dry, but they were juicy, well-cooked, and totally edible.  It was simply that they needed something to give them a lift and lubrication.  Not lemon juice.  I'm thinking of tartare sauce as someone who shouldn't and it's not that, but something creamy to oil the wheels.  Just as an aside, there's no-one who reads this blog who's going to try and bone a sprat, is there?  Besides, they are oily fish, crammed full of healthy omega-3, and as with the slightly larger sardines they'd have grown into if we hadn't eaten them, the bones are not only edible but good for you. 

I'm going to make a confession now.  You know how one sometimes wishes one had ordered what others' have instead?  Or is it just me?  On this occasion, I wish I'd done the rabbit livers and what Rhett was having.  Not that Scarlett's and my ox heart with chorizo, chicory and capers (not non-pareil one though, or at least my non-pareil capers are much smaller than these ones) wasn't delicious.  It was.

Ox heart with chicory, chorizo and capers

Look.

See what I mean about the capers though?

And we had it with the usual, absolutely perfect, crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside..

Franklin's perfect chips

And for extra vitamins...

Buttered cabbage

But just take a gander at Rhett's...

Main course

That's a ham hock hash with a fried duck egg.  Perhaps it is just me.  And we do share, you know, so I do get to taste things.  It's just a very luscious dish.  Here, I'll show you what I mean.

Luscious ham hock hash with fried duck egg

It's something one could conceivably cuddle up to (in the autumn perhaps, but I'd do it any time) gastronomically rather than literally speaking.  The puddings were more than up to scratch.  I have a theory about Franklin's which is that they do tarts very well.  Hence my choice of...

Butterscotch tart with cream

Scarlett's a baker and she told me that my pastry was as perfect as it's possible to get tart-wise.  The butterscotch was yummy, the edge of the pastry perfectly crisp and melt in the mouth.  I could have eaten all the cream (and I'm not usually a big fan of cream - except ice cream of course), but I didn't.

Rhett chose the fool.

Scarlett focuses on Rhett's gooseberry fool

 And Scarlett went for the lemon cake.

Cake with vanilla cream

We'd toyed with the idea of and ordered a cheeseboard to share (and to round things off).  Unfortunately, the cheese was not up to standard.  It consisted of three cheeses, including a Montgomery (I think, although it might have been Keen's) Cheddar.  Now, we know our cheeses.  Rhett and I, in particular, are cheesehounds.  The ageing process generally produces what might be termed an age line, a dark, discoloured area, which can run through the cheese.  Really good cheese shops like La Fromagerie and Neal's Yard Dairy who truly understand not only about sourcing quality produce, but also storage and, in the case of cheese, the affinage or maturation process (bringing a cheese on to its peak condition) excise this bit of cheese.  In fact when I was buying Christmas cheese for Scarlett, Rhett and myself at Neal's Yard Dairy in Borough Market before Christmas, this was very carefully done - and it's worth saying that all parts of the cheese which were not up to the mark or were simply the ends of the cheeses concerned were chucked.  What neither they, nor restaurants who understand good cheese, do is serve a stale, old bit of cheese, hidden under some flatbread.  Nor when we sent it back do the chef have a conversation with his sous about how we don't understand cheese and come back with pentagonally-cut long oblong of the same.  By this stage, quite honestly, I'd gone off the whole idea anyway, because it wasn't fun any more.  A shame.  I'm sure I will be delighted to go back to Franklin's, but I won't be ordering the cheese again.

What it couldn't do is dampen the wonderful experience of spending my birthday with very dear, kind and loving friends.  I know I seem to spend a lot of time saying this on my posts but really - lucky, lucky me.  So, here's to you, with many thanks just for being you.

Rhett and Scarlett

and of course,

Misty and Scarlett share deep thoughts on life, love and the pursuit of catnip bananas

A canine deficiency is remedied by Kulu Kulu Sushi

Look deep into my ebi tempura temaki!

But before you look deep into my tempura prawn hand roll, I'll rewind slightly.  The day before, in the lead-up to my birthday (nope, we still haven't quite got there yet), I met up with E who sadly couldn't make lunch on the day itself.

Lovely woman, she very generously treated me to lunch at Frederick's.  I had a classic vodka martini with a twist - very good, well-made, with Wyborowa (Polish) vodka as an aperitif, and followed that with a glass of really very delicious Côtes du Ventoux.  I'd plumped for the chicken liver parfait with foie gras, but alas and alack [sorry about that, but I'm listening to 18thC music], the parfait hadn't set.  So, it was the gazpacho with guacamole and Dorset crab (white meat) arranged in three sizeable quenelles with a soup which tasted of summer.  We were sitting outside and it seemed only fitting that E had the classic prawn cocktail, with nice big juicy tiger prawns - I know, because she kindly donated one to me.  Then it was the steak, medium rare (and, I could see and later got to taste, perfectly cooked), with good chips, spinach, green beans with crunch.  I had one of the specials, a whole baked sea bass - again perfectly cooked.  Then it was La Fromagerie cheeseboard for me.  It might not sound like it, but this was a preventative measure.  That is, it prevents me from stopping off at La Fromagerie (it's a brisk 25 minute walk from home to the Highbury branch) and buying a very large amount of cheese, not to mention a good-sized (that's a generous 150g to you) container of their rilletes d'oie.  This wouldn't be a problem if I could exercise portion control, but I find it very difficult.  I have managed sometimes to save some of the cheese to eat the next day, but it's tough.  E had what looked like a gorgeous banana split.  But alas, having fitted in the gym and then bathed, scented, dressed, trotted down to Finsbury Park, and thence bussed to the Angel, I'd forgotten my camera.  We'll have to do it again, I said to E, and indeed I hope we will.

Anyway, back to my canine deficiency.  It was the next day and still pre-birthday when I had a date to meet up for drinks with my friend, Mike - it's always a pleasure.  I had a bit of business to do at the Angel so, I thought I'd complete that, stroll down Old Street, make my way to Big Apple Hot Dogs and have a munch before meeting up with Mike.

But woe, there was not a dog, hot or otherwise, to be seen!  Thankfully, I'd eaten some chicken and fruit post-gym, otherwise I would have been woozy as a result of the two large and very delicious Appleton rums and diet coke imbibed with lots of ice and a slice.  This is another one where I blame Skinny Bib myself.  No, not because the cart wasn't there, but because of reawakening my sausage thing.  They have to be meaty (which BAHD's are - 90% in fact), and plump, and juicy.  It's not everything beginning with 's': sashimi, sushi, sausages.  After all, cheese doesn't begin with an 's'.  But I am a long-time sausage lover and proud of it.  However, I do have to watch myself, otherwise I'm apt to over-indulge.  The ever-gorgeous Scarlett has offered to dog it down to Old Street with me, having tweeted Abiye the owner, to make sure he's there (she tweets and I'm a non-tweeter).  This could be a good idea for more than one reason because as with Martinis, Scarlett could ensure that I didn't allow my sausage obsession to get out of control.  Just had a thought, I could take some kind of wrapping facility with me so that if I were to (over)indulge, I could secrete any surplus sausage and eat it later - followed by a trail of animals all the way back to Stroud Green no doubt but it could be worth it.  Mind you, if we went for cocktails afterwards in Hoxton/Shoreditch, then she might object to lingering sausages.  I know, an airtight container.  That's what I'll do.

Having concluded our drink at the Water Poet, Mike headed off back to the wilds of East Anglia and the three beautiful females he lives with and I...?

To be honest, I was still feeling distressed by my lack of dog (I'd been planning on having a double dog and had even done that bit extra in the gym as pre-compensation for the sausages I intended to eat).  So, I decided to sublimate my sausage (lack of) with sushi - because sushi always works - well, it does so far anyway.  Liverpool Street just happened to have a No.23 bus waiting for me, which was heading in the general Kulu Kulu Shelton Street direction.

Unagi (grilled eel) sushi

This is not Sushi of Shiori and it really would be unfair to compare them.  Both Kulu Kulu and Sushi of Shiori are very good at what they do, in their own way.  As Sushi of Shiori is very much like small restaurants one finds in Japan, so Kulu Kulu is very much like a good standard kaiten-sushi restaurant (and in fact, I preferred it or, at least, found Kulu Kulu to be just as good as the kaiten-sushi place I visited in Tokyo).

Sake toro (fatty salmon) sushi

The fish is fresh, good quality, well-prepared, and delivered.  The sizes may not necessarily be even, however, they are generous, as you can see from this luscious piece of salmon belly.  As delicious in its salmon way as the o-toro of tuna, the sake toro is based on the same principle, the cut from the belly of the salmon, it is ribboned with healthy omega-3 oils, which has been cited to have positive health benefits in relation to cancer, cardiovascular health, the immune system, conditions such as arthritis and even depression.

Aji (horse mackerel) sushi

You will have noticed that the plates have different patterns.  The plate pattern (or colour) denotes the cost of the plate.  As with tapas, the number (and in kaiten-sushi establishments, the colour) of the plates determine what you will pay.  Incidentally, Kulu Kulu Sushi in Shelton Street operate a 10% discount on the total amount payable!

Sake (salmon) sashimi servied with daikon and cucumber

The only sashimi they serve as a matter of course is salmon sashimi (and very nice it is too).  However, on request, I have seen tuna (maguro) and other types of fish served sashimi style.  Incidentally, Kulu Kulu sushi is not the place to go for more unusual/high-end sushi such as o-toro (fatty tuna), although they do very nice scallop sushi and also, amaebi (sweet prawn) sushi as well as more familiar types of sushi - salmon (sake), mackerel (saba) etc.

Inside-out salmon, avocado and crabstick with tobikko

Their rolls are very good.  Both the inside out with tobikko (flying fish eggs) and with sesame seeds...

Inside-out roll with salmon, avocado and sesame seeds

are sizeable.  I can fit a whole one in my mouth, but it is definitely not an elegant sight and, always a giveaway this, I wouldn't do it if I were in company (although strangely, other customers don't count).  The rice is nice, and the components well put-together.  If the rolls aren't all exactly the same size, really, once it's in my tummy - do I care? [you know the answer to this already, I think].

Ebi tempura temaki with avocado and sake

That goes double for the prawn tempura hand roll with avocado and salmon - best when they are just made so that the prawn is still warn.  Speaking of which one can occasionally get a little shock when eating miso aubergine...

Nasu no Miso Dengaku (grilled aubergine with miso)

if you get it when it's just come out of the kitchen and are not expecting it to be, not piping hot exactly, but still a lot warmer than the sushi dishes!  Utterly delicious.  Love me, love my aubergine.

Actually, love me, love my ice cream.  I've written about it, but this time I had my camera on me - yes, Abiye, for that double dog I didn't get to eat.  All is forgiven, I suspect it will be double so once I get down with the dogs on Old Street.  Besides, as Scarlett so correctly pointed out, it's an artisan product, I just can't expect it to be there when I want it.  And there's a lot to be said for that old-fashioned notion of delayed gratification. My sausage will be all the juicier and meatier I'm sure when I eventually get my teeth sunk into it.  Whatever.  I'll keep you posted.  And I suppose in the meantime, as I don't tweet, I'll just have to follow BAHD on Facebook then, hmmph!

Nil desperandum (that's a gerund for you), I had the camera so it was the perfect opportunity to finally photograph the Scoop gelato.  This was of course, my sole reason, for purchasing...

Cioccolata Extra Fondente and Nocciola

otherwise I would never have entertained such an idea.  Yeah, as if!  Did I mention that their chocolate is grand cru, single origin?  And their hazlenuts come from Piedmont (their cinnamon comes from Sicily), the provenance of their ingredients and the way they are prepared are impeccable.  The ice cream pictured is, incidentally, the small cup, costing £3.  Yes, I will repeat that.  This is the small cup, costing £3.  What can I say?  It's owned by Italians, run and staffed by Italians.  They love and are proud (justly so on both counts) of the food they produce and think that it should be served in generous (but not excessive) portions so that it can be enjoyed by those who are the lucky recipients of their care and hard work.  If only we could spread this sentiment around - perhaps get Scoop ice cream and cover the UK in it liberally - we would be a lot happier people, a kinder and more generous society, although without increasing exercise, we might be a little bit fatter.  Although I doubt it somehow because if you're eating food of this quality, you don't want to gorge on it.  It's the difference between being a gourmet and a gourmand.  And it's the difference between respecting the bounty that this planet has to offer us and the dedication and hard work of people who provide for and care for others: striving to be the best humans we can be, often failing, sometimes succeeding and serving with a generous heart and spirit.  It's not only about food, it's about life - and a parabolic ice cream.

The ice cream which tells a story

Let's all have some figgy pudding...

Figgy pudding

and get some in here.  The here being the wonderful Algerian Coffee Stores in Old Compton Street, conveniently located a block or two down from the amazing Gerry's Wine and Spirits.  The panficato was a pre-birthday present from the lovely Dalston [see what I mean about my birthday having a season - shorter than the Grouse season unfortunately, but commencing at pretty much the same time].

You can see all the good things that have gone into it: dried figs, almonds, chocolate, honey, cinnamon and so on.  As with its cousin, the panforte, it was dense but moist and chewy.  Far, far from those panfortes which can be dry, this was a fine example of the Algerian Coffee Stores' sourcing, which is really exemplary.  And like John Lewis, they are never knowingly undersold.  Their pricing is keen and commensurate with the price at the original.  I know this because they stock, for example, products from the utterly delicious Rococo, and their prices are exactly the same as in Rococo stores and online.

A distinct slice of coffee heaven, if you are in London and in the area, I would urge you to go in.  They also do marvellous tea, and you can buy a shot or two of espresso.  To be honest, whatever you do, it's worth going in for a sniff (if they could bottle the smell, it could be the launch of a whole new sideline in room fragrance).  However, I do think it highly likely that you will be unable to walk out empty-handed, and if you do succumb rest assured that your money will have been very well spent.  There is a reason Algerian Coffee Stores have been a going concern since 1887 and it shines through.

Back to the panficato, we polished it off, with some delicious tea (herbal, with hints of orange and giner) which suited it perfectly, rich, warming, fruity.  What a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon.