94. Elks of Islington

6th April 2014, Elk In The Woods, Islington, London

Camden Passage in Angel, Islington really is one of my favourite spots in London.

Adorable little vintage market, great interior design shops and some really cute and cool restaurants. Plus the exact right combination of weirdos, criminals, hipsters and posh people to give it that really fun and happening vibe that I love. Once when I was hanging out there about three years ago I was both mugged by a teenage chav and chatted up by a stock broker, all in a couple of hours. Now that's diversity for you.

Elk In The Woods is situated right in the middle of Camden Passage. Truth be told, the main reason this restaurant is on my list is that it has the word 'elk' in it. You know, being Viking and all that. I kind of really just like any place with a moose's head on the wall.

On the agenda for this Sunday morning was a long overdue catch up with my ultimate Adelaide Wharf flatmate. And this time, instead of getting off our heads on cheap bottles of prosecco in a City bar, we decided to be civilised and go for Sunday brunch. Granted, both of us were so hangover from the day before we could barely sit upright, but I'll still consider it progress.

As we tend to struggle to find the time in our crazy diaries to actually meet up and get the latest gossip on each other's lives, we also tend to squeeze a lot in during these catch up sessions. This particular time we managed to get through buying houses, quitting jobs, boy updates (or lack there of in my case), travels to the Caribbean and Australia and of course the standard trips down memory lane. Seriously, considering that we only lived together for four months, we've managed to accumulate a ridiculous amount of craziness (the week of the juicer anyone?).

So about restaurant itself... I have a feeling it's more of a lunch or dinner place. I've heard so many great things about it and the main menu looks amazingly rich and rustic, plenty of game and fish which I love. I refuse to believe it's all that bad.

My full English however - not so great. It was all kind of mushy and chewy and not in a good way. I'm honestly not quite sure how someone can fail at scrambling eggs and frying bacon.

Next time I'm eating the moose instead of observing it on a wall.

A very unsatisfying fry up.

 A very cute little venue though.

93. Happy Hippie Food

4th April 2014, Shoreditch, London

Other than lobsters and champagne, I also absolutely love lentil soup.

Lentil soup is probably one of the least sexy foods out there, along with black pudding and just about anything with marmite on it. But unlike both black pudding and marmite, lentil soup is yummy and comforting and I do not care if people judge me for loving it just as much as I love a good surf and turf.

Considering that I go through about 3 cans of Heinz Lentil Soup every week I thought it was time to learn how to make my own. Especially seeing as I currently have all that time on my hands from not working and considering that if in three months I have still not figured out what I want to be when I grow up, it may just be the only food I can afford.

I'd like to name my variety of this dish 'Everything I had in my fridge plus lentils and 6 hours later you have soup'. Turns out if you try to eat it after a mere 4 hours of intense boiling, it will be all the wrong sorts of chewy and crunchy. It also turns out lentils are not like spaghetti that you just chuck in water for a few minutes. Nope, you're apparently suppose to soak them overnight. Seriously? I know I said I now have extra time on my hands, but I'm not Doris Frickin' Day. 

Also turns out that when you chuck all vegetables from your fridge into a pot, it's enough soup for you and about 89 of your closest friends. Seeing as I can't fit 89 people into my flat, eating lentil soup for 5 days straight it was.

I may have time on my hands, but Tesco does 5 cans of soup for £3 and I think that's a better deal than wasting another 6 hours waiting for my lentils to be edible.

Just kicking off, blissfully unaware of the wait that is ahead of me.

Four hours later - still not finished.

And six hours later - my lunch had turned to dinner.

92. Fabulously Fancy and French

4th April 2014, Shoreditch, London

I have a confession to make. I have never really fancied macarons.  

These lovely looking little pastel beauties that have boomed and taken over the world where cupcakes used to reign, simply does not do it for me. It's just way too sweet and sugary. And believe me, I like a fair bit of sugar.

Friends, foes and random strangers have however all told me that if I try a macaron from French luxury baker Ladurée it would both blow my mind and change it.

Through some level of divine intervention, my lovely friend Gollum (oh yes, there is a story there) took time out of his busy schedule as a dad to come and celebrate my 29th birthday and bring me a whole little case of colourful Ladurée goodies on behalf of him, the girlfriend and their gorgeous little guy at home. Not only did they help me with something to tick off on the list, they've saved me a trip to good old Paris.

On my first day of freedom lounging around the flat in my best Calvin Klein pyjamas, I decided to celebrate my new found lady of leisure status with this gorgeous little box of sugar and a cup of Earl Grey. I do after all have English culture to defend against this French invasion.

Consider me converted. Oh goodness, it was an epiphany and the cookie orgy to end all cookie orgies. One would go in my mouth and was even more amazing than the prior only to be beaten by the next. One minute my favourite was the zesty lemon one only to in the next minute be replaced by a mint and chocolate miracle. I landed at the pistachio one as the ultimate macaron, but to be far, that is most likely first and foremost because I ate it last of all.

Sorry cupcakes, we're finished. Can we still be friends? And remember, it's not you - it's them.

 

French Pastel Princesses along with the English King Of Teas.

 

 

91. The Leap

3rd April 2014, Canary Wharf, London

Sometimes the hardest decisions turns out to be the easiest ones. Kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid.

I have genuinely loved working in my industry. I've been doing 80 hour weeks and sleeping with my Blackberry since I was 20 years old but I have truly loved most of it. It's crazy challenging and faster paced than anywhere I could imagine and I have met some fantastic people along the way, some of which are now my closest friends.

Since about a year, I haven't loved it so much. Without going into any detail, I have been a miserable old cow for some time now, and enough had to be enough. And somehow, one year of feeling awful about work and reflecting this in all other aspects of life, came to an end in a decision that took me exactly 5 minutes and a bucket of Ben & Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup to make. 

It was a crazy and rash decision but most certainly a necessary one and the minute it was made I felt like a completely different person and a better one at that. So yes, I have a fair few things to think through, but ultimately I am going to enjoy being a lady of leisure for a little while. Besides, I think at the age of 29, maybe it's time to figure out what you want to do when you grow up. 

I can honestly say that I have no regrets or second thoughts as fair as calling it quits, but I will surely miss some of my lovely girls from the office who have been the most awesome colleagues and friends a girl could have wished for. And although one of these lovely ladies told me on my last day in the Wharf that people always say they'll stay in touch and they never do - she and the others are stuck with me.

Leaving drinks were hilarious but most definitely a tad sad and my soppiness only got worse the next day when my office partner in crime delivered a very funny and sweet leaving speech in the extremely Irish accent I've come to love (and be able to interpret almost perfectly!). This along with The. Best. Card. Ever. Not only due to the amazing cover, but all the adorable little notes and my very own leaving poem by our very own in house office Poet made not just my day, but my year.

Now how long before this lady of leisure starts climbing the walls...?

The most fabulous leaving card ever along with my super cool new leopard clutch!

90. All These Girls

1st April 2014, Shoreditch, London

I have adored Lena Dunham since seeing her masterpiece of a debut flick, Tiny Furniture in 2010.

It is hard to deny her genius. At the ripe age of 27 the woman is taking over the frickin' world. Between handling writing, acting, directing, Vogue covers and getting it on with the beautiful Patrick Wilson, she also delivers some hard truths to the world on a frequent basis and pushes people to actually think for themselves.

In spite of my slightly creepy infatuation with Miss Dunham, I was yet to watch the full first season of Girls.

Having seen the odd episode or two, I have struggled to make myself endure all of them. Partially and officially because I find the character of Hannah incredibly annoying, but also that the recognition factor is just too much to bear.

Even if Hannah is the most annoying character out of the bunch, they all get on my nerves. But the more I think about it, the more I realise this is probably because they are the most honest and real characters on any screen for a very long time. My generation have been bombarded with the unobtainable Sex And The City style expectations as far as screen role models go that when what could reflect actual reality is portrayed it freaks us out a bit.

I can honestly say that I have met hybrids of all the characters in real life. The girl who can not stop herself babbling away even after a date rape jokes slips out mid job interview, the girl who aims so hard for perfection she doesn't notice herself falling apart along the way, the guy who does treat your heart like it's monkey meat and only gives a toss when you've already stopped caring, the girl who hides her own brokenness by being the quirky, crazy and impulsive person that no one can rely on, the naïve girl who is clueless but brighter than all the rest put together and the guy who never learned that nice guys do finish last.

These highly imperfect people are all around and Lena just brought them out to play in the playground of perfection. And for that I love her. But there's no use denying it, at least once during each of these 10 episodes, I did hide my face behind a cushion in utter embarrassment on behalf of Hannah, Marni, Jessa or Shoshanna.

Last but not least; never make a date rape joke in any kind of civilised company. It will never go down well.

89. Lounging at the W

31st March 2014, W Hotel Bar, Leicester Square

So I have a little teeny streak of the Fear Of Missing Out syndrome.

Get me right, my FOMO is nowhere near as bad as for some of the other representatives of my generation. However, certain places I will become semi obsessed with purely because more people than one have checked in there on Facebook. OK, so maybe I have a decent amount of FOMO in me.

W Lounge is one of those places. No real idea what type of  place it was, but the other children were playing with it so obviously I needed it.

All said and done, on my 29th birthday and being in the area Hell's Bells and I had to pop in there.

We started off by not finding the bar. Why do hotels not just mark it on the stupid lift buttons? Ground floor, first floor, second floor, alcohol, fourth floor. It should not have to be so god damn difficult.

It may be that this was in the middle of the afternoon and the great vibe they're known for was not quite up to speed. But I really couldn't quite see what the fuss was about. Yes, it's a very chic venue, great art work and really well considered interiors, but the way people have talked this place up lately - I was expecting something a bit more edgy.

Never the less, it was the first glass of rose wine for the season which means it is now officially spring and for this we thank W Lounge.

After our wine and about a million Agrinion olives we were ready to head off and wrap up a day of festivities. On the way out I spotted their Rock'n'Roll themed afternoon tea and now I will definitely be making another appearance at W Lounge.

Hell's Bells and a the W collection of fabulous plates

Welcome spring!

88. Where Lobsters Come To Die

31st March 2014, Riding House Cafe, Fitzrovia, London

My favourite Floridian often speaks of having specific food weaknesses where it's basically impossible to resist certain dishes should they be on the menu.

If hers are mac'n'cheese and sticky toffee pudding then mine are definitely lobster and Eggs Benedict. Which is why I've been dying to try Riding House Café's Lobster Benedict for absolute ages now.

The concept is simple yet genius; same English muffin, poached egg and hollandaise as with Eggs Benedict but instead of ham - half a lobster and some caviar.

And, it was purely orgasmic. Like seriously, I didn't even finish any of my extra pancakes because they were suddenly not as delicious following the amazing eggs and lobster. Also, I didn't even eat any of Hell's Bells side granola on the side of her side pancakes. I think the waiter was genuinely concerned for my well being.

Turns out - lobster for breakfast is a winner.

I will never have anything else for breakfast again.