Photos from a Dalston basement a loooooong time ago (December 2007).
Thursday, 26 July 2012
Tuesday, 24 July 2012
This post has been rather a long time coming. I finished the onesie (or playsuit, if you prefer) months ago, and waited patiently for a sunny day so I enact a photshoot featuring the onesie and I frolicking in the park. This being London in 2012, the rare sunny days seemed to fall on days when I was at cooped up inside. So I settled for my hospital-blue bedroom wall instead.
The item in question came about relatively easily - a Frankenpattern involving my trusty bodice block and the highwaisted shorts I made around this time last year. The darts were moved to meet up at the waist seam, and the waistband of the shorts where removed before joining it up with the bodice. Lapped zipper at centre back to get in and out, finished off with a hook-and-eye at the top to prevent any embarrassing mishaps. Still not the most convenient of outfits to wear if you find yourself needing some...relief, though.
Hat - Topshop, Onesie - selfmade, Belt - vintage, Tights - Sainsburys
You know what the best part of this outfit is? Besides the fact that it is a onesie, that is. It was practically FREE! The blue chambray-looking (but actually most likely polyester) fabric came from my mother-in-law, while the blue and white nautical-themed collar come by courtesy of the divine Miss Valentine.
Wednesday, 11 July 2012
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
As I mentioned a couple of posts back, we took a daytrip to France two Saturdays ago. The ferry arrived in Dunkirk around lunchtime - perfect. After a quick sandwich, the three of us wandered around town and had a look at the market before we spotted Botteau. Time for dessert!
Its display cases were filled with dainty, delicious jewel-hued pastries, drawing us in like a siren song. What to choose? Everything looked too good, too colourful. It took me an age to decide on one, and even then I wanted more.
Our travel companion J choose a flan, without really having a clue what it was. He seemed a bit disappointed by his choice, but I thought it was great. Creamy, slightly sweet, and rather light too.
I finally decided on a frangipoire - a glazed frangipane tart with sliced pear, topped off with a chocolate button inscribed with 'Boutteau' in gold. It was wonderful, sweet and moreish, with a slight tartness provided by the glaze.
Manbacon went with the chocolate bombe, a huge, round sugar grenade of a dessert. The meringue core was surrounded by a layer of chocolate, and coated with more chocolate, and finally dusted with icing sugar. Spectacular looking, but rather too sweet for me.
19 Bart Jean Bart
Sunday, 8 July 2012
Some photographs of manly men engaging in manly activities - making a human pyramid, posing with arms at an angle, boxing, and posing in front of a crooked backdrop. The last is a real photo postcard, and his manly holiday greetings can be found here.
Friday, 6 July 2012
From one of the best restaurant in Calais, to one of the most disappointing food experiences. EVER. That's saying a lot, especially since I'm usually easily pleased with whatever's placed before me. Ok, now you've read the verdict, you can skip this post if you want to. Or, you could read on to find out why...
To begin from the beginning - Manbacon and I, together with his colleague J, went over to Dunkirk and Calais for a daytrip last Saturday, with the intention of stuffing our faces with fine French food and returning home with plenty of wine and cheese in the boot. We detoured to Calais in the hope of enjoying a late lunch/early dinner at Histoire Ancienne. It was, unfortunately, closed at that time of the day (around 4pm, I think), like most of the other restaurants around the town centre. We wandered around for a while, until the guys spotted a crowd of people seated outside Le Centaure, and decided to eat there.
|Fish and chips|
The next warning sign came when the fish and chips arrived - huge plate, but a tiny piece of battered fish clinging sadly on to the side. Well, quality over quantity, as they say (and we thought). However, that old adage proved untrue in this case - quality AND quantity were both lacking. In fact, J said that the fish tasted like the chef had purchased some frozen fish from Iceland (the supermarket, not the country) and quickly defrosted it.
Eagle-eyed readers may also notice some strawberries lurking among the salad leaves. What's all that about?
The tongue-twisting potjevleesch arrived on another large plate, tantalising glimpses of meat and aspic peeking through the mountain of chips. It looked good. Until Manbacon pushed aside the chips to reveal...a whole lot of chicken and no other types of meat. Which was not at all what was promised on their menu - and not at all what potjevleesch is - a terrine-like dish with three or four different kinds of meat. Three or four? Nope, only one here...I think the chef may need some lessons in counting. Cold, aspic-covered chicken was just not mindblowing enough for any of us to forget that they had left out the other promised meats.
My salmon ravioli arrived with little mussels, as well as a little physalis berry sitting on top. The ravioli tasted like it came from a supermarket packet - tough dough, filled with a generically pinkish paste inside. Just generally unexciting. I passed most of it off onto the boys.
I wonder now if the kitchen had just purchased most of the items from a supermarket, and just heated everything up when the orders came through? It certainly tasted that way. The whole meal was less than mediocre, and certainly left us walking away feeling grumpy and disappointed.
11 Place Armes