Supernova

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

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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Too many cooks…

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.

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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Half measures

As successful as my last baking attempt was, I was left with the usual cake-based problem: What to do with 12 portions of cake?! The obvious answer is to eat it, but with only 2 people at Three Small Apples HQ, that means 6 slices of cake each before it goes stale. We’re looking at 2 slices of cake a day for 3 days. Not going to happen. I’m as big a cake fan as anyone, but I was looking at cake overload. The solution? Not feeding (stale) cake to guests (not because it’s a bad idea, but because I wasn’t allowed to), but half a cake in the bin. I may as well  have plugged up the oven and thrown my whisk over the wall. Or something like that.

But a couple of weeks later, and with a bit of spare time on my hands, I decided to retrieve the whisk from the other side of the wall.

Now, I know cupcakes have been done to death, but they still appeal to me. Not because Carrie and Miranda ate them that time. Or because of the pretty one-cake boxes they come in when you buy them from Hummingbird. But because they’re fun to make, easy to give away and they can be baked in tiny batches.

Yesterdays little batch of 6 amaretto flavoured cupcakes not only satisfied my sponge making urge, but should be easy enough to finish, without that Gawd-Must-Keep-Eating-Cake feeling.

The result: cake success!

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Nicer ice cream

Some things are so much better when they’re kept to the realms of fantasy:

Romantic ice skating dates – it’s not romantic, it’s scary. And no one enjoys the fake “that didn’t really hurt” laugher that you have to do, while holding back the tears, when you inevitably faceplant on the ice.

Fried egg sandwich – the yolk gets on your fingers and you feel a bit sick.

Watching horror films – spending the next 3 weeks awake is not fun.

Eating ice cream from the tub – I blame American TV shows. It looked fun when Monica and Rachel shared the Baskin Robbins… In real life, the carton gets soggy and makes the ice cream taste like garlic cardboard.

And that’s not to mention the fact that you’ll probably vomit from ice cream overload later on.  I’m all about a one-scoop.  You can indulge in it at any time, and it’s not going to spoil your appetite, or the rest of the tub.

There’s no chance of garlic ice cream over at Threesmallapples HQ, not when I’ve got the prettiest ice cream dishes in town.

Spotted (and quickly purchased) from online store Three Jelly Moulds and a Wardrobe, this set of 4 (the other 2 are hiding) dessert glasses are perfect for those occasions when you want to serve slightly stale, leftover cake (with custard! Credit crunch and all…) to your guests, but your boyfriend won’t let you, so you serve ice cream instead and it still managed to look fancy!

Three Jelly Moulds is run by blogger, foodie and thrift shopper extraordinaire Elizabeth, who decided to put her ‘passion for rummaging’ to good use, and found a range of really cute items so I didn’t have to.

Thanks to her, my biggest dessert challenge is going to be waiting patiently for the ice cream to soften, so I can scoop the perfect shaped ball.  Hundreds and Thousands, anyone?

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Beet that!

I’ve always been a fan of the colour pink, so it’s not the biggest surprise that I like beetroot. It’s not a ‘bit pink’ like a radish or rhubarb, instead it’s SO pink that it’ll dye your plate, your mashed potato and your clothes (watch those beetroot juice splashes). The only problem with a bit of beetroot-lovin’, is that not everyone at Three Small Apples HQ is as big a fan as I am and there are usually 3 or 4 beetroots in a packet. What to do with the uneaten beetroot? Yeah, you could roast them, add them to salads, stick them in pasta. I didn’t do any of that. Instead, I put them in a cake. A CHOCOLATE cake.

Doesn’t it scare you when you’ve got to add oil to a cake instead of butter? It does the same job, and you don’t notice it in the cake but it’s just the thought. Oil. Mmm…(!)

Proof that I really did put the beetroot into the cake.

Red tinge?

Topped with some chocolate icing and complimented with some sugar flours.

And the verdict? Chocolatey with a hint of super food. So chocolatey that even Mr Three Small Apples couldn’t complain. Beetroot? What beetroot.

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Jam Companion

I live with a jam consuming fiend. If there’s jam at Three Small Apples HQ, it’s already between 2 slices of bread. So imagine my surprise when I found a lone jar of home-made blackberry and apple jam…! I thought I should mark this monumental, unlikely to be repeated, occasion, and there’s no better way to eat jam than with scones!

The recipe was meant to make 8-12… how come I only ended up with 7 (plus a midget scone)?

So easy that if I wasn’t sickened by the amount of clotted cream I consumed (probably 5 times the amount above), I’d bake these every week!

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(Fred &)Fran-tastic

I think most people know I spend far too much time in Starbucks. And I’ve got a Gold Level reward card to prove it.  But super sweet coffee (“Can I have a tall, skinny hazelnut latte please?” Yes, I know what I sound like) and free Wi-fi? There isn’t actually a better way to spend lunchtime while at work. Although that might be because I work in a slightly disappointing area of West London.

Thankfully, I don’t live in the aforementioned disappointing area of West London. Instead, I live in an area of North London that is so bloody amazing that I honestly dwell on how great it is ALL THE TIME, as well as constantly wonder out loud why I didn’t move there sooner? (Answer: I didn’t want to. I’m reminded of the answer every time I do choose to wonder out loud within earshot of the people who tried to convince me to move…).  And in this amazing area of North London, not only is there NOT a Starbucks nearby, but there is such an abundance of coffee shops, tea rooms and cafés, that I probably wouldn’t visit even if one was to crop up.

Fred & Fran is one of the abundance. Found on a quiet residential road, a minute away from Stoke Newington Church Street, Fred & Fran is a small, simply decorated and cosy ‘Artisan Coffee House’, serving, as well as Square Mile coffee, a good selection of drinks, homemade sandwiches and cakes.

Free serve yourself water, so you can hang round and rehydrate while you ogle the food choices of others.

My chocolate, mandarin and almond cake was worth braving the rain for in itself. Sweet and tangy with just the right amount of almond, I was a bit sorry that I had to share this with Mr Three Small Apples. If I hadn’t borrowed the money off him (it’s cash only) to buy the cake and coffees in the first place, I might have told him to get him own.

Fred & Fran:  55 Kynaston Road, London N16 0EB

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One sugar please, darlin’

Perfect when you’re thirsty, perfect for dunking biscuits and perfect for cold hands, tea does it all. I’ve got so many teas at Three Small Apples HQ that not only do I have a shelf for them, but it takes me ages to answer the seemingly simple question “Cup of tea?”. Oolong? Earl Grey? White Tea with rose buds? It’s not a decision to take lightly.

These gorgeous floral mugs from Anthropologie are almost a bit too pretty to be stored away in the mug cupboard… but they are going to make for the prettiest (and girliest) cup of builder’s tea.

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Feline fine…

(groan, sorry!!)

Where’s the best place to take a cocktail-loving, kitten-obssessed girl for her birthday? The Mayor of Scaredy Cat Town of course!

Hidden beneath The Breakfast Club, a stone’s throw (if you know where you’re going…you don’t want to get lost around here, it’s Jack the Ripper territory!) from Liverpool Street Station, this tiny cocktail bar is found down a secret passage behind a Smeg Fridge…  So far, so good. Once through the fridge, and down some treacherous stairs (maybe it was my heels that were treacherous… but who wears flats on their birthday?!) we found ourselves in a dimly light basement bar, filled with polished wood, high tables, kitschy decor and friendly staff.

On the table sat the cocktail menu, found on a scroll of paper, tucked into an empty ‘cat food’ tin (not suitable for cool cats or fat cats) and was a simple list of around 20 cocktails, separated into classics and specials. Small but perfectly formed.

A bit of happy sampling took place, and the results?

My Alpine Fizz was the perfect blend of gin, elderflower liqueur and champagne, fruity, fizzy and subtle, whereas the tongue-twistingly named Ian Kane’s Yang Tao Smash managed to be sweet, sour, minty and refreshing in one go.  The Pear and Cardamon Sidecar was to die for, and the Tom Collins? Well I think that might have to be my new ‘must drink, will drink’ drink (and not just because Midori drank it in Norwegian Wood… although that does makes me love it that tiny bit more).

With its cat paraphernalia, its fake bathroom exit (don’t leave through the Smeg or you’re in trouble) and it’s Shoreditch location, The Mayor of Scaredy Cat Town might sounds a bit too cool for school but it’s not. It’s lovely. You should go.

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