Oops #3
As off today, I’m out-of-office-ish.
You see, I’ve walked under a sky made of Union Jack buntings. I’ve sipped through golden glasses of mint tea, served just like under that Moroccan tent I slept in years and years ago.
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PS. Ben Spalding at the loft project
Marylebone, London, early August
It was a Wednesday. We walked through Manchester square; looking at trees turning to that golden shade we all long for. Then three hours later, we realised there was something else we longed for.
Something that Roganic – and his head chef Ben – just delivered to us in the form of a six-course meal.
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Roganic
19 blandford st, W1U 3DH
http://www.roganic.co.uk/
http://www.roganic.co.uk/
Ben Spalding has puzzle pieces tattooed on his arms. Eating at Roganic did feel like putting all those bits together. One at a time.
We sat at the table, with rescued wine bottles as water glasses.
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Caravan
11-13 exmouth market, EC1R 4QD
http://www.caravanonexmouth.co.uk/
http://www.caravanonexmouth.co.uk/
My playground love. With his blue eyes and boyish smile. With his barefoot habit in the winter and his cute front teeth.
Yes, Caravan is just like this. A slice of home outside a home.
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China town
gerrard street, W1D 6JN
I’ve been living in a world made of pillows, blankets and duvet covers. It could be the most cosy place in the world – and usually feels like it – but right now, I dream of a trip to China town.
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NOPI
21 warwick street, W1B 5NE
http://www.nopi-restaurant.com/
http://www.nopi-restaurant.com/
The perfect day needs no more than a person I love as much as he finds me annoying, and enough drinks and food to keep us going – let’s be honest, mostly drinks.
It might get even perfect-er with the addition of bright-green grass to lay on, and a sun just warm enough for our skin to feel the heat.
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A trip in nothingness, through the pentax
I don’t really know where to start about my – our – recent getaway to Cornwall. I have seen landscapes so beautiful my eyes hurt. I have eaten food so delicious my taste-buds remember. I have driven so much I feel the speed of the motorways at night.
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Somewhere, outside
A couple of days ago when Stephanie thanked me not to be a food snob, I think she didn’t realise how right she was. The proof lies in the bowl of rice I’ve just had. It was meant to be pilaf, the kind of rice you stir with a little oil then cover with water and let to cook until a perfectly golden crust forms at the bottom of the pan.
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