Now she's stealing my cherries

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Paolina Thai Cafe

When I was 25, I spent a year living and working in Bangkok. Why Thailand? Is it wrong to admit it was because I've always loved Thai food and because I heard that beer was sold cheaper in Thailand than in Malaysia (which, because of my love of Malaysian cuisine, was my other choice)..? I don't even drink beer these days! My fellow ex-pat English teachers and I had lunch virtually every day at what we only knew as 'The Lunch Place' which was a small family run roadside stall that had been fashioned into a functioning outdoor 'restaurant' with a few cheap plastic tables and chairs, surrounded by bamboo trellis. When venturing into the touristy hubs of Bangkok with their menus priced considerably higher than what I was used to (but still cheap by Western standards), we were always presented with good, but not great versions of Thai food we had become familiar with, and we always found ourselves comparing it to The Lunch Place, both in quality, quantity and price.

At the time I was vegetarian, and day after day I would enjoy green curry, red curry, pad Thai, or stir fried vegetables. Not once did I grow tired of the cuisine, and I doubt I ever will. I was lucky enough to take part in a vegetarian and vegan Thai cooking course at Mai Kaidee's during my time in Thailand, her cookbook still a prized possession in my cooking arsenal.

These days, I still find myself comparing any Thai restaurant that I happen upon to The Lunch Place. I always feel cheated when I have to fork out over £20 for a good, but not great meal, knowing I've been taught how to make it taste better at home, and that the pricey menu is more reflective of the ambiance and flashy lighting rather the quality of the food that they present.

This brings me to Paolina on King's Cross Road. It's certainly never going to win any beauty contests, and when I bring friends there, I almost feel compelled to give them a disclaimer and warn them beforehand just in case they expect something a little more glamorous. The food, however, is where Paolina excels. No, they don't put flowers in your drinks or garnish your plates with vegetables carved into roses, but the portions are generous, the prices are always consistently low, and the taste is authentic, spicy, satisfying and super tasty. There is no alcohol served at Paolina, instead it is BYO while they charge £1 corkage per person.

Le Sacre Coeur

My boyfriend's office is based in hip and homely Islington, where restaurants and pubs are never in short supply. From standard larger chains to the smaller, lesser known independent companies, Angel covers it all. A short walk from the tube station down a side street sits  Le Sacre Coeur, a cosy traditional French bistro hidden away from the bustling foot traffic of Upper Street. Nat's colleague had suggested La Sacre Coeur to him, and as we have a long weekend in Paris coming up in June, I was very keen to dine there to inspire me. While still at work, Nat and I scanned at their online menu and were both instantly struck with a dilemma that would plague us during the next few hours: how could we possibly decide on what to order when there were so many dishes we wanted to get?? Should I get the chicken or the duck? Should he get the rabbit, beef, steak, pork or duck? or We were torn.

 

After a lengthy deliberation, we finally made our decisions. I, rather predicatably, went for the confit duck, while Nat opted for the rabbit casserole. For starters I ordered shrimp, as I usually adore shrimp cooked in garlic and butter so I figured I couldn't go wrong. Unfortunately, I wasn't terribly crazy with the shrimp that Le Sacre Coeur had to offer as it was too "meaty" for me, and I couldn't figure out if it was just the texture or the taste. As I have previously been a vegetarian for over 10 years, this may have been why I was a bit thrown. I'm also not the hugest fan of rocket, but I can't fault a restaurant for my fussy palate!

Cider Love

I must say, I am extremely fortunate to work with a great team of people who appreciate, and are well-versed in good food and good drink. I am even more fortunate to work a stone's throw away (well, a mighty generous throw) from Borough Market, the vibrant and bustling food market located at London Bridge that has sold a variety of fruit, vegetables, baked goods and meat since as far back as 1755, making it London's oldest fruit & veg market. Each Friday around noon, we head down to the market, where we split up and follow our stomachs before meeting up at our favourite cider stall for a cheeky pint. I am usually the last to rejoin the group, as the vast number of stalls offer an endless range of hot or cold meals, leaving me overwhelmed by choice. I stare at fellow market-goers for inspiration who clutch their prized selections in their hands as they push their way through the crowds, and as I weave my way through the stalls I am forever getting wafts of teasingly good smells which renders me indecisive. I have a certain weakness for confit duck, and despite my efforts to try something new each time I visit, I spot the stall selling duck confit rolls, I succumb, and with ginormous roll in hand, I join my fellow colleages at the the cider stall.

DIY Easter

Last week, my best friend Anton and I were lucky enough to go to a Chocolate Festival in Angel, North London. Inspired by the numerous samples we were given, I couldn't help but think "I could try doing that," or even, "I could do that better!" Err, I'm aware how incredibly arrogant that sounds, but I mean really, in one of the stalls, my gaze fell upon what appeared to be a hardened blob of melted chocolate with a handful of hazelnuts sprinkled on top. Despite that, Anton and I were full of awe, wandering around the hall with immense food envy, stuffing our cheeks with samples and pointing out all the impressive displays, wondering which stall to look at next. 

Live to Eat

I am a self-confessed foodie, guilty of posting every meal on Instagram and tweeting about a great restaurant. I pin hundreds of recipes to various Pinterest boards. I collect cookbooks. I dream about food. I live to eat.

I used to be somewhat snobbish towards ‘fusion’ cuisine, but the fact is, I was eating it from as far back as I can remember. Having an Indonesian mother and an English father while growing up in New Zealand, I wouldn’t exactly call the food we ate on a daily basis typical of what others my age my age were eating. I suppose it’s not necessarily something you hone in on at such a young age, but I do have early memories of sleepovers at my best friend’s house and her mother would be preparing “risotto” or “pasta” from a pack. I remember thinking “My mum doesn’t use packs like that” and looking down at my plate and seeing things that didn’t really look or taste much like what I knew rice or pasta should taste like.

My mother was, and still is, a fantastic cook. My introduction to cooking from scratch started from an early age. I would crouch on the kitchen floor helping mum grind various spices and shallots into creamy pastes with her giant pestle and mortar in preparation of making my favourite Indonesian dish Ayam Opor. I would help her toss plump chicken pieces in flour, beaten egg and seasoned breadcrumbs that she would later bake and serve in little baskets lined with paper towels (No KFC for us). I would peek out the back door and watch her scale, gut and behead large fish, slicing them into fillets ready to be grilled. I would, on occasion watch live crabs reach out from the kitchen sink, hoping to find their way back to the coast, but instead only finding their way to the bottom of a boiling pan. I would lean over the stove stirring sauces, stir fries and soups, all the while my mum would pass on little nuggets of information that I would hold on to and remember for years to come.

Coming from a bicultural family meant we had a few interesting dishes that appeared regularly. My dad’s favourite dish, and my least favourite, consisted of steak, fried eggs, baked beans and chips. We also had chicken paprika that was served with rice, tuna casserole that would be served with lettuce cups, and steak and kidney casserole served alongside, weirdly enough, prawn crackers. This was all very normal to me, and it was really only recently when I was discussing steak and kidney pie with my boyfriend that it popped into my head that perhaps prawn crackers were not the usual accompaniment to steak and kidneys at all!

I definitely have my mother to thank for my early introduction to cooking, and my great appreciation of food. Having said that, it’s because my mother is such a good cook that I find replicating her recipes more than just a little intimidating. I remember her watching me make peanut sauce and her comment “That’s… interesting…” still lingers in my mind and I can still picture her hovering behind me, noting how my recipe or techniques vary from hers. Still, I persevere, and though I don’t cook as much Indonesian food as I’d like, you will find my versions here, alongside various other cuisines that I have made, bought or eaten.