Five gauges of success – El Ganso

I’ve been learning lately about the relative perceptions of success. Six year old me thought that ‘making it’ was being prima ballerina Margot Fontaine. When I was in high school it was getting grades as good as my sister. After finishing university with a fashion degree I saw it as becoming head designer at Dior….

Truffle’s beef shin nuggets at Broadway Market

It’s saturday and the sun is shining, unusual for London. I have become used to the grey and my unmistakeably ghostly pallour. Now the sky is bright and I feel a warmth across my back. I am wearing slippers but I soon discard them and walk barefoot around my small patio. At intervals I bend down to pull up weeds from…

A Food Adventure – Double Pie Dinner with a side of Jellied Eel

Another day, another eating adventure. Ordinarily, I would think that a soft pie with gummy mash covered in a radio-active green parsley sauce with a side of jellied eels sounded unappealing. This time though, the little elderly lady that was serving it too me was so adorable, (in a tough East London sort of way) that…

Hill and Szrok

One thing I miss about living in London is the prevalence of really great butchers. Any butcher really. In Australia, you can buy meat at the supermarket of course, but why would you, when there is usually a butcher’s shop right next door. Where I live they seem to be few and far between, and…

Butchies – Fried Buttermilk Chicken

I was stuck in a cycle of food choice indecision this one morning, but then I saw Butchies. It didn’t take much for me to decide to try it. It had me at fried. The queue for this place was impressive. People just kept coming, and as many people as there where in the queue…

A Short Trip to the Middle of a Fishy Scotch Egg

I have a strange relationship with scotch eggs. You see, I always want to eat them. They look delicious, and sound delicious but they are always pork. I don’t eat pork. I always feel sad to be missing out on the enviable scotch egg experience. The other day, I was at a market, and I…

Poco

London can be difficult sometimes. You can have a million friends around one weekend and the next everyone disappears to the French Alps or something and there is no-one. This is generally okay, I’m pretty good at self entertaining, and, especially when I’m trying to write, it’s not very productive having someone talking in my…