I'd often associate foods with feelings. My boyfriend's petname for me is "Potato" - supposedly, back in his country, calling someone a potato is a good thing, it means that they are... Versatile. You know, a potato can be turned into a mash, rosti, latkes, chips, crisps, it can be anything. And if I could associate the different forms they take with the different feelings I have, well, I unfortunately don't feel like these glorious salt and vinegar potatoes right now - these are new potatoes that are boiled in vinegar and water so they have that lovely sharp tang, and they are then cut in half and fried in plenty of oil so that they're crispy and rich. Topped with plenty of maldon salt and chopped herbs and it's a side that stands proud in any meal. I don't feel like that now. I feel like a bland pile of lumpy mash. Like a school dinner mash. Yes, my current emotional state is school dinner mash.
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
Sunday, 24 April 2016
The Little Viet Kitchen (Angel, London)
I had a dirty napkin down my collar as I nibbled away the remnants of the lamb chops, sucking them dry, licking my fingers. I slurped in the noodles and the broth all too quickly that I was half in tears because of the heat but I kept going and by now my napkin had fallen and my dress was dirty --- let me backtrack.
Saturday night I went to The Little Viet Kitchen -- the Vietnamese restaurant owned by the infamous ex-supper club host Thuy Pham-Kelly. We go in and we are greeted by Chris - your East London man with suspenders, checkered shirt, bow tie, mustache and an iPad mini. He shook our hands, introduced himself and led us to a table by the window. The restaurant is of white, pastel green and washed wood, with beautiful chandeliers and plants and flower pots -- Scandinavian minimalism if you may, a restaurant you'd imagine East London Chris to work in.
Saturday night I went to The Little Viet Kitchen -- the Vietnamese restaurant owned by the infamous ex-supper club host Thuy Pham-Kelly. We go in and we are greeted by Chris - your East London man with suspenders, checkered shirt, bow tie, mustache and an iPad mini. He shook our hands, introduced himself and led us to a table by the window. The restaurant is of white, pastel green and washed wood, with beautiful chandeliers and plants and flower pots -- Scandinavian minimalism if you may, a restaurant you'd imagine East London Chris to work in.
Tuesday, 5 April 2016
Chocolate and Ginger Toast
Something easy today. I feel deflated - like one of those sad limp balloons on the floor. I miss the air, the energy, the excitement. I have an app I use to track my period, and it's times like this when I check my app and have a sigh of relief - it's okay, I'm allowed to feel like this. And eat chocolate.
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