Yoghurt Ice Lolly

(This one has two skewers in it, but there’s no need for that.) 

Befitting my brief and rather sporadic blogging recently I have found myself a snack whose making and eating take similarly little time and effort. When I say found, I mean found somewhere on the backroads of my memory… This is something my mother used to make when were children and for some reason it popped up in my mind the other day, forcing me in turn to force poor Jimmy to accompany me to Tesco Express in the middle of the night in pursuit of Fromage Frais – at least that’s what they seem to call them over here. To me they’ll always be Fruchtzwerge. My mum used to have special, colourful plastic moulds (which have now no doubt been thrown out due to their aesthetic non-pleasingnes) to make these ice lolly yoghurts in, but since we have no such thing here, we’ve used halved wooden skewers instead. But sucking on wood isn’t very nice so I recommend you source an alternative.

 

All you have to do is vigorously force a the half skewer (i.e. a wooden BBQ skewer or something either chopped, cut or snapped in half) through the yoghurt lid and put it into the freezer for at least five hours. After that, take the yoghurt out again, run it (still fully packaged) under warm water for thirty seconds and then push with your thumb against the yoghurt pot bottom ’till the lolly pops out. And that’s it. Less than fifty calories and under 17p per lolly – these make a great alternative to ice cream, not least of all because the eating time is also a lot longer this way than when not frozen! 

(This by the way, is now scheduled to arrive here on 30 April and is available at Amazon for £3,50 with Free Postage and Packaging)

Weekend Food

Essay writing has once again determined my absence. I have a weekend of delicious food behind me but refuse to write about it. Words are premium goods at the moment and I am not squandering them on non-assessed work. Pictures will have to do,

Friday Night’s Pizza in Bed whilst catching up on the awful! new season of Game of Thrones. A Jamie’s 30 Minute Meal and surprisingly easy to make, this pizza dough does not require proving. However, you’ll have to search the web for further instructions yourself. My tips though: Reduce the tomato sauce considerably before putting on Pizza! Add Mushrooms! Use less dough!

Saturday’s Mussels in white wine sauce. Enough Mussels for two people for £2.99 at Sainsbury’s at the moment – however, the considerable amount of broken shells do lessen the eating pleasure somewhat…

Watching Liverpool host Chelsea with plenty of chocolate to provide coco relief. Anyone expecting a pun on Suarez and chocolate chewing should think again. This morning’s Metro’s headline ‘Bite Club’ and last night’s Twitter trending of ‘SuareztheCanibal’ have demonstrated that no such thing can be achieved gracefully.

(Sunday’s evenings Fish Tacos. 1 kg of fresh Cod Loins for 3.99 and the Sainsbury’s reduced section scramble has definitely payed off)

 Thursday’s Parmesan Crusted Cod with Poached Egg and Creamy Spinach Pasta.

(Sunday’s extended Breakfast, Scotch Pancakes, Maple Syrup and Bacon with Telly on. The only way to endure programs like Masterchef..)

Jam Sandwiches and Margaret Thatcher’s Dead Body

It seems strange to make so much noise and fuss around one dead woman’s body. After all, she’s not in it anymore, and you certainly don’t see thousands of spectators gathering outside her former home right now. Having said that, today’s funeral procession which saw Margaret Thatcher’s coffin (not just the coffin – I strongly suspect her body of being in there) be carried by a gun-carriage which was drawn by six black horses along the Strand, past Fleet Street and up Ludgate Hill to St Paul’s Cathedral wasn’t strange enough to perturb me from standing in the cold for two hours to see it being marched by. Other than two brightly coloured, forty-plus and scantily clad red heads parading a rather compact sign deploring the taxpayer funded funeral costs, there were no protests to be heard or seen (at least not from where I was standing). Since any potential dissidents would have chiefly been students, I presume the prior-to-noon scheduling of today’s event must have been the cause of their absence. Instead of boos then, the coffin was greeted with muffled cheers and modest applause. And given the expected demographic of the former prime minister’s supporters any reaction more enthusiastic than this, surely would have looked suspect.

I don’t have much of an opinion on Margret Thatcher either way – which is fine since no one seems to be much interested in other people’s opinions on this matter anyway. Which makes me wonder, is anyone ever interested in anyone else’s opinion unless it’s to be challenged, plagiarised or ridiculed? Probably not. But that’s a different matter entirely.

Anyway, whilst I wasn’t much moved by the passing of the union flag draped and white flower wreath topped coffin, I’d like to think my morning was well spent nonetheless. Besides, the only other realistic alternative to today’s historic excursion would have been lying in bed and pottering around the house till both noon and my aching conscience would have finally bullied me out of the front door. This way, I was granted two hours of quality entertainment from sundry pretty horses, hoards of beefeaters (who all really seem to be struggling with that nasty golden bonnet strap btw!) and an excellent marching band. Coupled with constant elbow exercise (a first row spot doesn’t maintain itself!) and a soggy jam sandwich, my morning couldn’t possibly have been more enjoyable..

…unless I was one of these two of course.

Library Times

Other than slowly and painfully pulling off my little toe’s toenail in an act of utter boredom, running to the toilet as often as possible, refreshing Facebook every five minutes and thanking heaven for the false fire alarm which granted five minutes of legitimate relief, there is really little else to do in the library other than eat. And drink.

To make things easier and indeed life cheaper, I’ve decided to take as much food to the library as possible. Unfortunately, my plans were thwarted last night when Jimmy spied the size of the giant salad I was in the midst of preparing for today. On hearing that I also planned to make myself some egg-mayo sandwiches, he immediately -like a small child!- demanded he get the same and I, more stingy than greedy, was forced to do without them, so long as it meant Jimmy would have to do without too.

Anyway, I most certainly won’t let the same thing happen again tonight, since this way I was forced to buy myself additional victuals in the library (admittedly, the purchase of the such did entail the inevitable leaving of my seat in order to travel down to the cantine which was a rather pleasant and distracting journey, I should say). On top of my salad, four BelVita biscuits, small packet of maltesers, apple, can of diet coke and three 200ml orange juice cartons then, I treated myself to a packet of cheese and onion crisps and a deliciously smooth galaxy chocolate bar..

(Whilst this is not me purposefully trying to recreate childhood memories of going to Greek restaurants with my parents and sisters, overeating in the library today, nevertheless, has led to that rather nostalgic side-effect..)

Summer Greens Lasagne

I spent most of my weekend being sad about not being able to enjoy the gorgeous weather due to the horrendous masses of course work I have looming. Of course, none of the course work was actually done, but nor was any weather indulging either. A weekend wasted one might think. And I’d agree.

As most (or at least, what I very much hope are most) students will know all too well, having to meet deadlines is a life changer. Indeed, a life spoiler. Nothing fun can justifiably be planned, or done, until the dreaded deadline day has been successfully overcome. Whether or not the void which fun has left is in fact filled with conscientious essay writing is a different matter all together. Having a deadline doesn’t encourage actual revision but moreover generates an ever swelling cloud made up of muffled guilty-conscienceness whilst simultaneously limiting procrastination solely to non-fun activities (mainly cleaning the flat or robotically refreshing Facebook over and over again). It’s as though there exists an inner conviction that a superficial fun fast will somehow make the essays write themselves. Ganz nach dem Motto, ‘Suffering not thinking will get me a distinction.‘  

Anyway, once I’d decided that missing out on a bit of sunbathing this weekend was the least I could do to promote the completion of my assignments, I granted that I should leastwise cook myself a little bit of summer instead. This light (light here perhaps more in terms of colour than calorie count) lasagne was inspired by a Jamie Oliver 30Minute Meal recipe and is a yummy vegetarian alternative to the classic Italian meat lasagne – without actually trying to replicate the taste or texture of beef that is.

Serves 4, Preparation Time 20 Mins, Cooking Time: 30 Mins You will need :

12 Lasagne Sheets

1 Bag of fresh Spinach

200g Green Asparagus, stalks chopped up, leaving the tips and 2cm of the top whole

200g Green Beans (frozen will do too) chopped into 2cm long sticks

150g Frozen Peas

1 Bunch Spring Onions, chopped

1 White Onion, chopped finely

4 cloves Garlic, chopped very finely

3 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped

300ml Vegetable Stock

50g Butter

50g Flour

600ml Full Fat Milk

200ml White Wine

1 whole Mozzarella Ball

Fresh Basil Leaves

Good Olive Oil and Seasoning

150g Cottage Cheese

50g grated Parmesan

Once you’ve chopped and got all your vegetables ready, begin by frying the white onion, garlic and chopped asparagus stalks in butter. When they have softened (two to three minutes) stir in the flour. Now add the white wine and bring to the boil. Let the wine simmer for a couple of minutes before adding the vegetable stock and milk. Now turn on your oven to 200C. Using a whisk, stir the sauce for at least three minutes or until all the flour lumps have been incorporated into the sauce. Once the sauce has thickened, add peas, green beans, spring onions, parsley and spinach to the mixture (you could also add broccoli or broad beans or anything green that you fancy. Indeed anything not green that you fancy too.) and let simmer for another two or three minutes before taking off the heat. Using a large spoon, pour a third of the sauce into the bottom of an adequately sized baking dish, followed by a sprinkling of parmesan, followed by a layer of lasagne sheets (I used four sheets per layer). Repeat the process another two times making sure to finish with a layer of pasta. Now fry the asparagus tips in olive oil for approximately three minutes. In the meantime spoon all of the cottage cheese over the top layer of lasagne, followed by the fried asparagus tips, followed by some basil leaves, followed by mozzarella (you should simply tear it up with your hands), followed by a drizzling of olive oil and some salt and pepper. Place the dish into the middle of the preheated oven at 200C for 30 to 35 Minutes and serve with crusty bread and salad..

Carmelite Cafe

Tucked down an alley which is cheered up by bright, radiant (for sale) flowers right by Bow Church in East London, lies Carmelite Cafe, part of Bow Arts’s contemporary art space The Nunnery. (By ‘contemporary art space’ I assume a gallery is meant.) On our way home from another Nathan-and-Me-day-out, in the midst of changing buses, we were forced to seek refuge from a sudden torrent of rain in this charming little cafe. Any excuse for Kaffee und Kuchen being welcome of course. Bow Arts is an East London Arts Trust which supports community renewal through arts and creative services. After briefly browsing through Bow Arts’ rather intimate gallery’s The Nunnery, which is currently hosting ‘Geometric Figuring’ by Artist Ben Washington (soon to land at Saatchi – or so I am told!), we settled down for some much needed drying, some Victoria Sponge, some warming-up, tea, coffee and a cheese and ham croissant. Filled with homely, oddly matched wooden furniture and more artwork (again for sale, this time by Alistair Gordon who uses locally reclaimed wood as a canvas), this cafe feels cosy, relaxed and blissfully good-causy. Despite its jumbled selection of moveables and unavoidable connection with the arts, this place does not feel pretentious or cluttered simply for the sake of being cluttered, or indeed for the sake of pleading for a part amongst the hodgepodge hipster commune.

As Nathan helpfully reminds me right now, Carmelite Cafe serves delicious Nude Espresso – not that I care for, or understand, coffee but I’m led to believe that for some, this minor detail may be of consequence when selecting coffee shops and I should therefore include the information. Michael Needman, Carmelite’s proprietor, sources most of his produce locally or from independent suppliers – as it the case with the coffee.

With regard to matters of actual importance then, Carmelite Cafe’s selection of food is limited but sufficient. Serving a range of cakes, biscuits, tray bakes, soups, bagels and even pies, this place should really hold something edible in store to everybody’s liking. My Victoria Sponge was nice – unlikely to win prizes, but nice nonetheless. Having said the cakes are baked by local women (why not men?) which immediately makes me guilty for not having given them a better review. The staff is friendly, helpful and whilst only having opened last year, staple elements of good service seem to already be key here: Nathan’s and my food was brought out together despite mine being ready much sooner than his, the beverages were held back until the food was nearly ready to be served, the plates were not cleared until we had both finished and having just returned from herb shopping (much of our day-out was spent at a lovely little garden centre in East London named Growing Concerns) the staff immediately, and without prompting, helped us stow away our tray of fresh greenery. It’s the little things that matter. Well, at least that’s what three years of working for a tyrannically run patisserie from hell as a teenager have successfully forced me to believe. Having said that, I don’t think my teaspoon and teacup handle were perfectly in line today..

(Today’s herby purchases)

Palm Court Brasserie

Palm Court Brasserie on King’s Street near Leicester Square is a safe bet. It’s always busy (you should book ahead!), it’s not a chain, it’s affordable (between £10 and £18 for a main), the food is exactly what it promises to be, the service is friendly, the menu features an adequate variety (perhaps not for vegetarians though) and it’s easy to get to. My single qualm is that Palm Court Brasserie is a bit too lively (probably due to the attendance of a disproportionate amount of pre-theatre goers) and thus a bit loud. Still, other than our beautiful French waiter, this place offers me little to rave about. And besides, his attention was entirely devoted to Opa who insisted on speaking French to him throughout.

 Despite the staff being helpful and attentive then, this place is simply too big and full to feel personal. And whilst I’ve credited it with not being a chain, it feels like just another Cafe Rouge nonetheless. Admittedly, since finishing my main of Moule Marineire last night, I have not been able to stop thinking about or indeed googling mussels; of how to make them, when to make them, where to buy them, etc. They were delicious – as was my Tuscan cheesecake dessert. Perhaps that’s also why this place gets such spanking  reviews on the internet. 

Anyway, my grandparents will leave London to return to Germany this afternoon, which means that my week of delicious food, far too scarce family time and legitimised procrastination has come to an end. I’m currently sitting in the library wondering if I can justifiably open another pack of biscuits in the next hour and whether I should have Ramen or Rice tonight..

Gallery Mess

I like where I live. I’m in Zone One, I have a decent sized living room, I am a two minute walk away from the underground station, I have plenty of light around me, my surroundings are loud enough to have warranted a considerable rent-reduction and I’m only two tube stops away from Tuesday’s pub quiz. Modest but valuable considerations. Nevertheless, having recently repeatedly ventured beyond the East End, has begun to have the unpleasant effect of me liking home that little bit less every time I am forced to return. These particular feelings of vexation started with a brief excursion to Fulham last week Tuesday, got worse when Inga and I travelled to Notting Hill for the day on Friday and finally reached their zenith this afternoon during a trip to Chelsea with my grandparents.

Not unlike that baffling feeling of stepping off a self-contained plane into a warm Grecian blanket of hot air after having boarded only hours before in a wet, dark, cold England, journeying from East to West London is like exchanging one world for another. That the houses, shops, people, streets and cars would inevitably feel different in these areas is perhaps no more than to state the obvious. However, little did I think that they’d make me feel this different. Indeed, hobo may be the new boho, but I’d prefer cleanliness and a feeling vaguely resembling that of small-town security over trendy East End grime any day. Well, at least that’s how I feel following today’s temporary escape from dirt to pert – so not necessarily any day, but definitely on this day.

(Oma)

After less than two months of living only a stone’s throw away from the ‘oh so cool Shoreditch area and closer still to hipster’s paradise Brick Lane, I can confidently say that I’m over it. Been there, seen it – I’d like like to leave now please. Admittedly, my new affinity for these posher parts of the capital may have been somewhat furthered by the company, the nature of activity, and not leas of all, the quality of food with which I associated during today’s far too brief stay in Chelsea. Prior to our fascinating visit of the Saatchi Gallery then, my grandparents took me to lunch at Mess Gallery, part of the selfsame gallery as well as fellow inhabitant of the Duke of York’s tremendous HQ. Mess’s food was delicious, even if the service was average (an awful lot of things were being dropped) and the restaurant’s interior with its diverse mixture of magnificent art adorning the walls felt rather sophisticated (for want of a better word of course). I’m a student who ate Smoked Mackerel Rillette, Potted Shrimps, Smoked Salmon, Crème fraîche, Quails Egg & Sour Dough Bread from a white table cloth in Chelsea this afternoon. Wanting to leave Whitechapel in exchange for Knightsbridge or Fulham is the only next, logical step.

(The lunch that managed to throw me off track slightly..)

Founders Arms

My grandparents are currently visiting London for a couple of days so I’ve asked them to come to breakfast tomorrow morning. After having earlier furiously run up and down Sainsbury’s bread aisle in the vain hope of finding something that vaguely resembles bread or a bread rolls for tomorrow’s breakfast, I eventually conceded defeat and opted for the only other feasible alternative: I’ve decided to bake myself. I’m currently in the process then, of making Cinnamon Buns. It is now one o’clock in the morning, I’ve been ‘baking’ for an hour and have not even made it half way through the rather time-consuming procedure yet. Indeed, perhaps I should have read the recipe first, or perhaps I should have simply employed common sense, but little did I expect to be confronted not only with one wait of 90 minutes for the dough to prove, but indeed a second one of 45 mins shortly after. I am currently sitting through my first wait which means these things won’t be ready till four o’clock at the earliest which, however, leaves me with plenty of time to give you a quick review of the Founders Arms on London’s Southbank. 

(The view from our table)

After having spent a chilly but sunny day walking along the Thames, popping into the Tate, having cream tea, wandering over to the Shard and casually flaunting my now expert knowledge of the nearby Globe and Rose theatres to the grandparents, Inga and I were taken to dinner at the Founders Arms. Situated somewhere between Blackfriars Bridge and the Tate Modern with plenty of outdoor seating and an excellent view of St Paul’s and the river, the Founders Arms is unavoidably busy and getting a table in between six and nine o’clock at the weekend can be difficult. However, not to bother if you happen to be German, possess excellent elbow-skills and altogether lack any sense of common decency or British decorum. 

The price is affordable (especially when you’re not paying) with the cost of a main meal reaching from £11 to £18. The somewhat compact menu largely features burgers, steak, pasta and fish and chips style meals. Nevertheless, for what it is, the food seems to be made with care, the portion sizes are good, there’s something for vegetarians and the rather well-fried chips are delicious. Whilst I began with good intentions and ordered yesterday’s special, Swordfish on Caesar Salad, I was unfortunately so overcome by food envy when my fellows’s fish and chips arrived that I had to add a portion of chips and garlic mayo myself. No regrets there! With its sundry pots of rosemary strewn over the terrace and lots of colourful, oddly matched chairs cluttered around little wooden tables the Founders Arms has a warm, cosy atmosphere to it. The place feels distinctly pub-like – perhaps not least of all because it is a pub. Should you ever find yourself on the Southbank and in search of somewhere to eat then I recommend this place, especially since other than the fabulous Swan situated only a little further east down the river, it appears to be one of the few eateries on this stretch that can still claim not to be owned by a chain…

(An Extra of Chips and Garlic Mayo costs £3.50)

Easter Spices

Today saw the arrival of my final Easter gifts – just in time to fill the gap which my mother’s, now entirely devoured, easter eggs had left less than two days after their arrival. By this morning Inga and I had reached a chocolate drought so that my dad’s shortbread, Cadbury Cream Eggs and chocolat easter bunny couldn’t have come at a better time. Unfortunately, in the space of less than five hours, these have now also been fully consumed and we’ve consequently had to turn our attention to Anna’s Easter gifts from us instead; that’s four packets of Cadbury’s Mini Eggs in total (Terry’s Chocolate Orange is safe as of yet). 400g of chocolate now no longer on their way to Germany but safely stowed in my belly instead. Anna, apologies. 

Moving on, luckily, today’s Easter items not only consisted of chocolate and sweets, but also included an incredible array of Sri Lankan spices and cookey things from my dad and Lara who travelled there some months ago. Whilst they almost definitely won’t last forever, they certainly sport a longer life expectancy than their chocolate fellows (the spices that is, not daddy and Lara. Well, they too perhaps). Anyway, words can’t express how excited I am about finally owning these elusive little cloves things which have consistently made various recipes ostensibly impossible to make. Whilst I’m not quite sure what to do with them just yet (gammon springs to mind), I’m pretty confident that I won’t be able to mindlessly scoff them on the sofa. Something which instantly sets their fate apart from that of the late chocolates. 

Mit von der Partie were real live cinnamon sticks, popadoms, entire nutmegs, a herb chopping board, turmeric and a whole host of other yet to be identified powders and seeds. My new spice basket then, is one of the most beautiful as well as useful souvenirs I’ve ever received. Dear Jimmy in China, good luck.