Archive for April, 2012

More is more

Was it Coco Chanel who said “Less is more”? I wonder what she’d think about an above the knuckle ring from Wired Jewellery.

Make a wish...

Sterling silver wishbone £10

Perhaps she’d think it was one accessory too many… but then I’d imagine she’d reconsider when she saw just how delicate and pretty they were…

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“So what did you think of the new Murakami?”

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Despite Stylist‘s Nigella cover (yes Nigella, we know you like food. Stop thinking you’re the only one. And I hope that caramel was  bugger to get out of your eyelashes) giving me rage, when I saw Domestic Sluttery‘s sea salted caramel sauce recipe, I just had to give it a try.

Sea salted caramel sauce,  home made

The result? So good that I had to cover the left overs with washing up liquid to stop me eating it with a spoon. I’m sure Nigella would be proud.

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(Not Rachel) Khoo-king

I don’t recommend trying to cook while watching Rachel Khoo’s The Little Paris Kitchen… not only are your ingredients bound to be wrong but you won’t have that cute blue casserole dish either.

Pepper, feta beetroot, rocket

Having said that, this was dinner last night while I watched The Little Paris Kitchen on iPlayer. The recipe came from a genuine Frenchie, which definitely helped. And I wore some polka dots too.

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Blind tasting wedding bubbles? What a civilised way to spend Easter weekend.

Prosecco, Cava, Champagne

Chin chin.

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Ruby’s Bar

It’s not like I don’t already live within hopping distance to a ton of pubs, cafes, bars and restaurants… but I can’t complain when another bar opens up.

Especially when the new bar in question serves the best Blueberry Mojito in town.

And located only 5 minutes walk from Threesmallapples HQ (in flats)… I might have to cut up my debit card.

Ruby’s Bar, 76 Stoke Newington Road, N16.

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As weird as it may be, I really love IKEA. I love the feeling of irrational optimism that you get in IKEA, that feeling that tells you that “this new flat (because you only go to IKEA when you’re moving into a new flat) is going to be awesome. I love the cream sauce that’s served with meatballs. I love stocking up with a million tea lights and candles before hitting the till.

But… as with all things that are a bit hyped up, the reality never quite lives up to your expectations. The new flat is never quite as much fun as you think it’s going to be (although this is obviously in the days when I lived with flatmates… life at Threesmallapples HQ with soon-to-be Mr Threesmallapples as well as twosmallcats is totally awesome), they’ve started serving gravy instead of cream sauce with the meatballs, and I really don’t need any more tea lights or candles.

This chair is one of the many hyped up IKEA ideas that has been haunting me since I purchased it (and 3 identical chair friends… so that’s 4 times the haunting in total).  The brilliant, ridiculously easy, “would be totally idiotic not to” idea was to buy the chairs in the cheapest, most boring fabric on offer and then re-cover them myself with nothing more than a simple staple gun!

A year later, and the idea has obviously fallen apart, not because I don’t have a staple gun (I have 2) but because trying to find a fabric that 2 fabric buying members of Threesmallapples HQ like (the cats don’t get a say) is harder than leaving IKEA without 3 bags of vanilla tea lights.

Three rejected choices so far:

He hated it.

I hated it.

We hated it.

But look!! we both like this one… AMAZI.. oh wait a minute, its £70 a metre…

The search continues.

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For someone with quite an impressive (and aesthetically pleasing) cook book collection, you’d think I’d be a bit better at cooking. Feelings of nausea induced by contact to raw meat don’t help…

But I’m getting better, at both cooking and meat contact.  Practise makes perfect after all.

Sophie Dahl, Rose Price, Nigel Slater, Dan Lepard

And while I might not turn into Rachel Khoo any times soon, (my new chef crush. She wore 3 different polka dot dresses in the last episode. I think that means we’re soul mates) at least I’ve stopped retching when walking past butcher shops.

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