And Now, For Something Completely Different

Geffrye Museum, July 2010

Best Price

Warning, gentle readers - This post will most likely turn out to be a massive rant which includes the kind of swearing a Russian stevedore would blush at. It may or may not also include jibes at Barbour jackets, tourists, overpriced coffee and of course, Uggs. Look away NOW if you think you'll be offended. 

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Things around here have been fairly hectic recently, which is why I haven't posted much. I've had a semi-permanent spot at the Tea Rooms since the end of October, and I enjoy being there a lot more than most of the other craft fairs I've done this year, so it is fairly likely I will return there next year.

However, the one thing that puts a damper on it, are the customers. Well, the non-customers, actually. What really pisses me off is that fact that, because the Tea Rooms is billed as a 'Brick Lane market', the people who shop there often expect ridiculous discounts, or just want things for stupidly cheap prices. I've tried to grow a thick skin and just brush it all off, but a couple of experiences this past Sunday really got to me, and I figure if I let it all out into the interwubs, then I can let go of my rage and behave in a civilised manner next weekend. 

Anyway, incident one - Home Counties* family look at a shawl I have on sale (but not SALE!) for £10. I'm hiding behind my display stand, keeping a surreptitious eye/ ear on them. Teenage daughter is trying on the shawl, tying it various ways. I don't expect them to actually buy it, because, let's face it, they're just here for the 'Brick Lane Experience'. Then, I heard Daddy saying to darling daughter 'Ask her what her best price is, go on, ask her what her best price is'. 

Seriously, What. The. Fuck?! My best price is a fucking knuckle sandwich to your teeth, how about that? I'll throw in a set of knuckle-dusters to the groin for free! 

Darling daughter ended up deciding against the shawl, which left me both relieved and disappointed. Relieved, because I didn't have to yell in public, and disappointed, because I wanted to tell them that my 'best price' was the price on the tag, no more, definitely no less.

They then proceeded to browse the stall across from me, Daddy picked up a globe costing £8, and of course, used his favourite pick-up line on the stallowner. He, of course, has been dealing with these idiots for a lot longer, and told Daddy in bored manner '£5'. That's a huge percentage off, and you'd think Daddy would be pleased with that. Guess what happened? 

'How about £4 for it instead?'

How about a bull crushes your two Land Rovers and shits all over your Barbour jackets instead, darling Daddy?

*Barbour jackets (on both Mummy and Daddy), public school accent, puffy hair, puffed out chest, general smug demeanour. 

Incident two - similar incidents have occurred before, but, this just joined forces with everything else to help turn the day into a huge turdball.

Two tourists - short shiny plastic jackets, huge-arse cameras (possibly more on that later), hyena giggle. They look around at my display, spy the Cat Power! postcards, and shriek 'Ohhmygodthisissonice!' Which of course pleases me, because I am vain and neurotic and constantly seek the approval of others. Why the fuck do you think I have this blog?

So, you'd think the fact they said 'Ohhmygodthisissonice!' is a good sign, which will lead to them buying the card and paying me with cash money for a card with a cute kitty and rainbows on it, right? You're so innocent. 

Hyena girls: 'How much is this card?'

Me (aka dark mass of seething hatred for humanity, but still with a smile on my face): 'They're £1 each.'

Hyena girls (faces fall, eyebrows rise): 'Oh' (puts card down, exit stage left).

Why does this piss me off? Because the same thing happens so often - like card, exclaim loudly, ask price, don't want to buy card anymore.

Dudes, I know £1 for a postcard is about 70 pence more than a postcard of the London Eye, and I'm not about forcing people to buy my shit (I don't even like trying to make small talk with potential customers cos I always think they'll think I'm just trying to sell them stuff. It's also why I prefer to hide behind a huge stand instead of standing in front of my stall). BUT, you obviously like it, and I know because you said to your friend 'I really like this card' or 'Ohhmygodthisissonice!' or something else very similar, with some variations. 

But come on, out of all the money you spent at Brick Lane that day, my postcard isn't worth £1 to you? How much do you expect it for? 10p? Free? It costs me about 70p to produce each one, and after paying rent on my stall and bus fares and everything else, it's not like I'm even making any sort of profit from these cards. I'm just wanna get some fucking rainbow cats out there!

Now, I know that most people associate 'buying things from a market' with 'having to haggle for the best price', probably because some guidebooks told them to. But, the Tea Rooms is quite obviously NOT a flea market/ car boot sale situation. There's quite a bit of rent to pay, plus we have to spend hours making and/or searching for the items we sell, then cleaning them, often researching their history, and ferrying them to and from the stall. Even if we do make any sort of profit at the end of a weekend, it may simply mean we're making 50p an hour. That's waaaaaayy lower than minimum wage. 

So if we ask you for £10 for that framed print, it's not like we're trying to rip you off. We're just trying to make the rent, and be able to keep doing this next week so you can gawk and bring your huge cameras here to capture some of that exciting (but not really) 'Brick Lane Atmosphere'. Will that measly £2 you've saved by haggling with us change your life in any way? Will you give it to charity, or even one of the homeless guys shambling around asking for change?

Another thing - I wonder if Home Counties Daddy dares ask the checkout chick at Waitrose what her 'best price' is when paying for his weekly groceries. Does his daughter go to H&M, pick up a blouse priced at £12.99, and then tells them she only wants to pay £7 for it? Somehow, I suspect they don't, because that would be so declassé of them. Obviously, we're not 'proper' shops though, and therefore our prices don't deserve any sort of respect. I wonder if they ask the manager at their local Barbour outlet (is there such a thing as a Barbour outlet?)  for a discount? 

If you're going to say 'But the customer is always right', then don't say it to me, because lucky you, it's very likely you've been fortunate enough never to have been on the retail front-line. If however, you want to send me stories of stupid/annoying customers you've encountered, then I'd love to hear them. Okay, rant ends, now. Thanks for putting up with this incoherent stream of rage, but I do feel slightly better now. 

Bleeding Ghoulies

While the cool kids were out trick-or-treating this past Saturday night, I was holed up in my kitchen, cackling in glee as I knelt in front of the oven. The reason? I was waiting for my little ghosties and jack-o'-lantern cakes to come out so I could devour them. (But the real reason is that I'm way too uncool to be invited to any Halloween parties, and I suffer from acute social phobia.)

These little cakes are an homage to the Satan cakes Googy and I used to bake while we lived in the Pony Club - so named because they were devilishly delish. They're gooey chocolate cakes with a spoonful of Nutella hidden in the middle, and a far cry from the sickly, vapid fairy cakes supermarkets tend to offer. 

I've been sworn unto death not to reveal the secret of Satan cakes, though, and these ghoulish cakes were the result of me throwing some ingredients together, so I haven't got a recipe for you. What this post is, instead, is a kind of 'how-to assemble your own bleeding ghostie cake'. 

The silicon ghost and jack-'o-lantern moulds came from Sainsburys, but it's not a big deal if you can't find them. You can always bake them as regular cupcakes, then draw scary faces on afterwards.

You'll need:

Ghost/ Jack-o'-lantern silicon moulds (if you can find them)

or

Cupcake liners

Your favourite chocolate cake recipe

Your favourite red jam (I used a raspberry conserve)

100gm white chocolate

50ml milk (I used vanilla-flavoured soy milk*)

1. Preheat your oven if needed, and grease the silicon moulds. Make up the chocolate cake batter.

2. Drop a couple of tablespoons of cake batter into each mould, then add a teaspoon (or 2) of jam on top. Add more cake batter until each mould is about 3/4 full.

3. Bake for time required. Remove cakes from moulds and let them cool.

4. Once cool, start preparing the white chocolate ganache for the top. Finely chop up the white chocolate, place it into a heatproof bowl and heat up the milk. Pour the milk over the white chocolate and stir until you get a smooth, homogeneous mixture. Pour or drizzle the mixture over each cake, leaving a thin layer of ganache on top. 

5. Try and wait til the chocolate cools before eating. Watch as they magically disappear into your tummy! Spooky!

*The combination of white chocolate and vanilla-flavoured soy milk makes the ganache taste like condensed milk. I'm a fan. 

Buttons!

Went over to A's flat on the weekend, and came home with these! This is only about half of what was in the bag. They were coated in a weird brown gunk, so I spent ages washing them off, but still, whatever - it's a bag of buttons!

Old Cold

Since it's getting colder now (and I'm taking a break from sitting on a freezing floor cutting out fabric) here are some photos from last winter. 

 Thai takeaway +  Caddyshack on in the background = A great night in.

Candied Pomelo Peel

The Manbeast and I have been a little pomelo-crazy lately, ending most of our meals by devouring at least a segment of this dino-sized grapefruit-ancestor. While the giant, juicy sacs were perfect for quenching an after-dinner thirst, the rind and pith, with the texture (and probably, taste) of building insulation, had to be binned. I didn't feel so good about chucking all that away though - surely, but surely, something could be done with it? 

A little digging around on Google, and I unearthed several recipes for making candied pomelo peel. I love candied ginger, so the idea of candying some pomelo peel sounded good to me. Here's the recipe I ended up using - Patricia Yeo's Candied Pomelo Peel. I've taken step-by-step photos too, for those of you who are interesting in trying it out. 

1. Fill a pot with water (I found it much easier using a large pot),  then bring it to a boil. Add the peel to the pot, and, after bringing the water back to a boil, let it boil for about 10-15 minutes. D

Drain the peel, discard the water and repeat this step another two times. This helps removes some of the bitterness, and makes the peel easier to remove.

You'll find that the pith has turned translucent after the first boiling. You can remove it then, or wait till after the third boiling.

2. Drain the peel, and try and scrap off as much of the pith as possible, leaving only the green parts. Cut the peel into thin strips (about 1/4 inch thick). Sorry, no pictures of this step, it's a two-handed job.

3. Add 500 ml water and 500 gm sugar to a pot. Dissolve the sugar in the water, bring the syrup to a boil, then add the peel and cook over a low heat for about one hour, until most of the liquid is gone. 

You can see in this photo how the peel has changed in colour, it looks translucent here. 

4. Okay, this bit takes a bit of coordination and concentration, you don't want to be burnt by hot sugar so be careful! Add about 200gm granulated sugar into a bowl or plate. Place a wire rack over a baking tray (to catch any drips), then remove a few strips of peel at a time and drop them into the sugar. Coat the strips of peel in the sugar, the place them on the rack to dry. Repeat until all the peel is used up, you may have to add more granulated sugar every now and then. 

I used a pair of tongs to pick up the strips, but then found it much easier using a pair of chopsticks instead. Try and persuade someone to help you here, so you can pick up the strips and drop them into the sugar, and the other person can do the coating and drying.

Let it dry overnight, then keep it in an airtight container, or put them into little cellophane bags and give them to friends. 

The candied peel have a slightly bitter aftertaste, which I really enjoy, but not everyone might like. I asked the Manbacon to test them out on his colleagues, and they all hated it because they found it too bitter for them.