Fanciful about Food...

Reader, when it's breakfast, I am deciding what to have for lunch. When it's lunch, I am deciding what to have for dinner. When it's dinner, I'm working out a way for us to have snacks later without me being the one to overtly suggest it. I am obsessed.

The first thing I ever baked in my current flat

The thing is, food really does shape my life-most of my memories as a kid are tied around food-the worlds best banana pancakes in Bali when I was 3 that spoiled me for all other banana pancakes forever, ranbutans [sic?] eaten from paper bags in muggy hotel rooms with my parents whilst in Asia then being horribly disappointed by them back in the UK, my dad's ice cream floats (drunk on our front doorstep with all the neighbourhood kids), my Irish nan's roast potatoes that I will never be able to fully replicate and my English nan's date slice (for which I have the recipe, kept safe in a book, written down by 11 year old me and with everything spelt grossly, luxuriously wrong).

I knew I was head over heels for my boyfriend when I didn't even think about food on our first date, then on our second insisted on taking him to an Irish pub so that he could try red lemonade. I wanted him to be able to taste the drink that was the memory of so many childhood trips to Kerry because I knew he was important, even then. I was so delighted when he liked it that I threw my arms around him and kissed him.

For me, food means more than just nutrition-it's logged with emotion, nostalgia and memories. I've never been great at dieting for that very reason (which is a shame given that staying trim is part and parcel of being a screen actor). I grieved when my favourite Chinese take away closed down (I've never really recovered that particular betrayal).

In recent years more layers have been added-I know that at some point I want to have kids, so I know I have to keep my body fit and well, which means not only avoiding the wrong foods, but making sure I eat the right ones too. The past few years have had be eating meat and fish, discovering that my severe anaemia (despite my 17 year old protests) was linked to my vegetarianism and that steak is delicious. I don't just eat veggies because I have to now, I eat them because I love them and feel pretty rough if I don't. I make sure protien happens in every meal and that it's not always cheese. The older I get, the less food I can get away with eating without drastically changing size and shape. Which isn't to say that I don't still have huge pizzas and burgers-of course I do-but they had better be worth the damn calories. Frozen pizza doesn't cut it these days, it has to be the real deal or I feel cheated.

I can't tell you any dates from history but I can tell you what I ate the day we went to my first ever football match (smiley faces with soy sauce and ketchup-we were out of salt), or what me and my housemates talked about the first night we got drunk together and ate free buttery toast from the Christian tent ('Sorry man, we don't want to talk about god, we're mostly here for your food'). I can tell you the first meal Rob and I ever went out for (Thai food, which we barely ate because we were too busy laughing and doing Eddie Izzard impressions), what was served my first day on a proper TV set (veggie chilli and rice and loads of treacle sponge to ward off the cold), what I ate after my first proper break up (quorn hot dogs, one a day for 2 weeks. I lost almost a stone and looked DREADFUL), what I ate my first night in New York (TGI friday popcorn shrimp), what I ate when I found out my great uncle died (a really bad pizza from Pizza Hut), the drink my dad made me when I got mugged (very sugary tea, even though I hated tea, he said it was good for shock), what I ate the first time I was hungover (beans and chips, which I then threw up).

I feed people when they're sad-mashed potatoes, as Nora Ephron once said, are the best thing to treat melancholia. I also feed people when they're happy, celebration recipes stolen from Delia or Ottolenghi. I feed people to express my love for them, making Rob poached eggs on spinach and avocado is often my way of saying 'thank you for being incredible', cooking for my mum when I visit is my way of saying 'thank you for giving me a day job and being great at advice' and my dad's favourite carrot cake spells out how grateful I am for him putting up with all of my madness as a child (the man cut toast into pirate ships for me for god's sake)

So what's the moral of this blog post?
God, I don't know. I must be hungry. I think it's probably that food is a beautiful and special thing and we're lucky we have so much of it or something. Ask me again after lunch.
Ash
x

Earlier and earlier every year....

So Reader, if you've followed my blog for a while, it will come as no surprise to you that Christmas is my most favourite time of year. I get craft crazy, bake all the time, generally wander round with a face like a child in a Dickens novel who's just been given entry to a toyshop.

To make sure I don't go too mad I generally instate a rule that I can't do Christmassy stuff before the 1st of December. Which means no Christmas music, food, films or decorating. Every year though, my addiction takes hold a little more, and I find excuses to get the season going earlier and earlier. Going to the annual Taste of Christmas fair with my gorgeous make up artist friend SJ (remember her? from the cake blogs?) in late November now gives me an excuse to get outrageously excited a bit early. Going to my boyfriend's hometown to have Advent Sunday dinner with his family and old friends is also going to allow me to have mince pies in November (because it would be SO RUDE not to) and the fact that I have an enormous Irish Catholic family who keep having babies means I have had an excuse to start shopping and crafting since the first of November. Last year I spent a week filming in Portugal in December so I managed to convince my housemate that we had to decorate the flat in November so we'd still get the full levels of Christmassy vibes.

Don't get me wrong, I'll still be mostly sticking to my rules-no Christmas films before 1st December (and yes, that includes Christmas TV-re-runs of Kirsty Alsops homemade Christmas and Nigella's Christmas specials are like crack to me), no christmas music on the ipod before 1st December, no opening Christmas magazines (now sat tantalizingly at the end of my bed) no reading A Christmas Carol or putting a Christmas theme on my laptop....

but...

I may have already burnt a Christmas scented candle or three....
and made Christmas pudding....
and have my home made wreath on my bedroom door...
and given my boyfriend a 'Christmas decoration starter kit' for his flat...
and coerced him and also curly one to let me come and help decorate the second they want to feel Christmassy....
And read all the Christmas catalogues from all the supermarkets and planned all the food (because they don't count...right?)

Oh dear...

Elf
x

Erm...I mean,
Ash
x

It's actually pretty easy being green...

Ok Reader, I'm about to do something I never do. You've heard me wax lyrical about cakes of all shapes and size, I've shared my indulgent recipe for three cheese and caramelised onion tarts, I've even talked about the joy of comfort food. But today (on my 200th post no less!) I am going to wax lyrical about something I never thought I'd be praising.

A healthy food choice.

Not just a healthy food choice Reader-green smoothies.

I know! Vegetables, as a drink! Not even a juice, a chunky, takes forever to drink, liquid MEAL in fact! How could I possibly, as a foodie, be praising something so gym-bunny dull?

Well here's the thing Reader.

I love food. Scratch that. I am obsessed by food. I am a brilliant cook (I know that sounds up myself, but I really am, it look lots of hard work and messing up and making rubbish food, but years of having to cook for veggies, wheat intolerances, vegans and people on diets plus your usual picky folk, means that I now know how to make most things taste awesome). I spend my days dreaming of stodgy roast dinners, fabulous Moroccan feasts, smoky American BBQ'd meat and diner food, piles of ice cream and almost any kind of Asian food you could mention. I'm also a complete snackaholic. Generally, I need a few snacks in the day, else I get a bit dizzy and grumpy.

All of this is fine, but it means that my weight is a constant struggle, because I have one internal voice that is going 'EAT ALL THE FOOD' and another reminding me that I have to fit into a bridesmaid dress, or various costumes, or play a role where being a UK size 10 is mentioned in the script. Inevitably, I therefore find myself a constant victim of Feast or Famine. I will eat everything that takes my fancy for months, put on lots of weight, briefly enjoy having a bottom that bounces, then remember that I need to be a size smaller to fit into my clothes comfortably. So then I undertake a diet. I've tried them all, Slimfast (chemical awfulness but quite handy when your lifestyle is as crazy as mine), High Protien, no carb (I gained weight-I ate a LOT of cream and cheese on that diet), Weight Watchers (lost weight but put it all back on and then got obsessive about calories), Rosemary Connelly (probably the best of the bunch as their ethos seems to be 'cut out the processed shit, eat less, do a zumba class once a week'.) Inevitably I lose the weight (or sometimes don't lose it, annoyingly) feel ill and deprived whilst doing so and crave every other kind of food whilst doing so.

Reader, last week I was in Tuscany. The week prior to that, I'd been doing slimfast, so I'd feel less guilty about eating everything in sight in Italy. I'd spent the week with an awful metallic taste in my mouth, a weird tired feeling and a breakout of spots. I hated it, because it's such a terrible, chemical, processed way to eat and as a foodie, goes against all my instincts, but I'm so busy at the moment, I don't have time to count calories or do food maps or even fill in a food diary. While I was away, I was reading Good Housekeeping (I only ever read that, Woman and Home or Red-they're targeted at older women and are far more interesting than the awful, sadistic magazines targeted at 20-somethings in my experience) and came across an article about a young woman who had completely changed the way she ate, and, as a side effect, her life.

Now, this young lady also has a really brilliant website, which you can read here . Essentially, after months of feeling tired, fat, bloated, dizzy, crampy and nauseous, she decided to stop eating processed food, wheat, dairy and refined sugar. I read the article and enjoyed it, but then couldn't stop thinking about it. Now, there is no way I could be vegan 100% of the time. I've tried that, but the thought of never having cheese again just...no. Nor could I be wheat free the entire time. But maybe if I developed an 80/20 method, I might find it easier. That way, I could save eating wheat etc for holidays to Italy where I couldn't resist the home made pasta and pizza, really incredible meals in London and dinner parties.

Even so, I didn't really think that it would work out for me. When I arrived home (feeling sluggish and knackered) I had a night in with my girlfriends and sat about eating every kind of cheese you could possibly imagine, bread, crisps, ice cream and by the next morning, I felt dreadful. Bloated, tired, wrung out. So I got up and went to Asda and got some basic ingredients I'd seen on a green juice and smoothie website. I picked up avacados and celery thinking 'Really?' I nearly gave up when it told me to buy kale and spinach. 'For DRINKING?!' I though, aghast. But I decided to give it a go anyway and if it was dreadful, just chalk it up to experience.

The first smoothie was made. It was a dreadful, murky brownish green and I was convinced it was going to be horrific. But actually, due to the fruit, you couldn't taste the veggies. And I was so full after, I couldn't have dinner. So now I've been making vegetable smoothies for a week. I have them instead of two meals a day, and have now perfected the balance so they're a bright, vibrant green rather than that weird murky colour. I feel amazing, I've never been fuller, I'm not snacking much at all and when I am it's a handful of nuts or a spoon of almond butter. My skin is clear, my eyes are bright and I'm feeling slimmer already. I've been so full of energy that I've been waking up at 7.30am each day naturally and at night can't sleep till the wee hours. I'm even finding that I'm drinking more water and less diet coke because the smoothies taste sweet enough to me that I don't need the artificial sweetners as much.

It's weird because normally by now I'd be passing restaurants and lingering over their menus, or trying to justify to myself why it's totally ok to have a bag of chips, but actually, I just don't want them at the moment. My current diet is so natural and clean that it seems wrong to have things that aren't, and I can feel the difference in myself. Last night I had a peanut butter cookie my housemate made. It was delicious, but within an hour, my stomach was hurting and I felt a bit gross from all the sugar. Normally I'd be the one in the corner eating a whole plate of the things, so this felt pretty odd!

I'm not preaching Reader, just giving you my experience. You never know, by next week I might be sick of them (I somehow doubt it though, each one tastes so different, I'm not sure you could get bored!)

Look at the bottom of this page for my recipe for my favourite energy burst smoothie!

Tarrah!
Ash
x

Energy Burst veggie smoothie

(makes 4 servings)

Two handfuls spinach
Three handfuls kale
Small handful frozen raspberries
Half an avacado
One Banana
Two stalks celery
One apple
Juice of one lime and one orange
Enough coconut water to fill the blender up by a quarter
One Tbs Almond Butter (get the natural, no added anything one)
A Third of a Pineapple

Whiz up in a blender and enjoy!

Ten happy things...

Reader, I've been doing the '100 Happy Days' Challenge now for just over a month and it's really nice. At my low moments, I can look back over the pictures I've taken and know that even in stressful times I've managed to find time to make myself happy each day, if only for 5 minutes. I'm an avid believer in the idea that if you share happiness you'll be happier yourself, and today I am feeling rather tired and a little doleful (I don't cope with tired particularly well). So I thought that I would share 10 happy things with y'all that should give you a flash of the warm fuzzies!

TEN HAPPY THINGS!

1. Otters hold hands when they sleep so that they don't float away 

Look at them. Look at their little faces and their upright arms and the fact that they are HOLDING HANDS. This is so freakin' cute. I would like an otter please. Bonus cuteness-otters play catch with stones when they're bored!

     2.  Sloths have a poo dance 

You know what that gif is? That's a baby sloth, in a babygro, doing a poo and being REALLY HAPPY ABOUT IT. You're welcome.

     3. Carly Rae Jepsen is 28 years old

And she still managed to have a teenybopper hit. I initially thought she was 18 and was quietly grumpy about younger people than me doing so much better, but 28? 28 is ENTIRELY ACCEPTABLE. And in the video for her song, 'Call me maybe', she is being totally juvenile. It's not just us guys, it's all twenty somethings....phew!

    4. This tiny lizard exists. And he is beautiful.

 

LOOK HOW TINY. SO TINY! THE LITTLE TAIL?! GAAAAWW....

   5. This pie is a real. We could eat it.

Look at that glorious bastard. It's a brie and cranberry pie. Holy moley. I want it in my belly THIS INSTANT.

    6. Animals wrapped up like burritos

LOOK AT THE BATS AND TELL ME YOU ARE NOT HAPPIER KNOWING THEY EXIST.

7. This baby is doing a Patrick Stewart impression. And doing it well.

8. Cows have best friends

Sometimes I remember this and it just makes me happy. Cows form friendships and spend each day with that other bovine. They will seek them out in a crowd. Their mood is better when they're around their chum. GAW!

  9. This child has just discovered bubbles and he think's they're FUCKING ROCK AND ROLL!

He might explode at any second. He is THAT happy.

10. This little boy talking about love

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UehSJlOQj2I

Isn't that just wonderful? His little face at the end!

Well, I hope that brought you cheer Reader,

Have a wonderful day, and remember to let yourself laugh! Remember to watch my latest vlog, in which I do the Dating Profile Tag which you can see here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8j3LCZSh4uc

Ash

x

Ten reasons it's great to be closer to 30 than 20....

Reader, I am officially now in the 2nd half of my twenties. The day before my birthday, I got I.D'd (and despite my protests that I am happy to be the age I am now, the thought that I still look younger made me very happy) and I've had chocolate for breakfast twice this week, but I am quite zen at the prospect of getting closer to the big three-oh. And here's why:

10 REASONS IT'S GREAT TO BE CLOSER TO 30 THAN 20

1. Going clubbing is no longer something you are expected to do

So very much of my youth was spent enthusiastically donning teeny weenie dresses and checking I had cab fare and planning what to do when the friend who vomits and cries whenever you get drunk does the inevitable. Hell, I was even the Social Secretary of my Drama Society for a year. And I'd always be eyeing up my bed, thinking 'If only I could stay in and eat Thai food whilst watching episodes of Buffy instead'. But I'd shove my thoughts to the back of my head, because I WAS YOUNG. And young people must go and live and dance and get drunk and do all of the silly things! Now don't get me wrong-I loved going out with my friends. I still do! But clubbing is something I rarely feel the need to indulge in. You can't hear your friends, a sweaty dude in a bad suit grinds up against you and by the end of the night you've spent more than you would have on this month's council tax bill. And because you're a bit older, hangovers are SO MUCH WORSE. Now that you're closer to 30, you can leave all that nonsense to the young uns and go sit in a pub or in a nice cocktail lounge. You can dance at the inevitable million weddings you'll be invited to and no one will judge you for not knowing the moves to the latest X-factor winner's song. Or you can stay at home and not wear any make up at all whilst you watch Saturday Night Live and eat Boursin out of the foil.

2.    You don't have to follow anyone else's rules

You know when you're 20? And you're living with your parents and they say 'Wash up your dishes before you've eaten' and you say 'But then my food will get cold!' and they tell you that you are living in their house so must abide by their rules? Or when you get a 'wake up call' from your mum at 8am on a Saturday? Or when you don't do something because you think people wouldn't approve and you worry what they'd think of you? When you get a bit older, you just think 'Sod it' and do whatever you want to do. Like staying in bed till 3 on a weekend watching American true crime shows or wearing a boob-tastic dress. (Living away from your parents helps a great deal with this). You just sort of stop giving a damn. 

3.    You get taken more seriously

You know what's really strange? When I was 21 and had just come out of University, people would ask me what I wanted to do as a career. I'd say 'Act' and they'd laugh at me. Now, people ask me what I do, and I say 'Act' and they get all impressed and ask lots of questions. And they listen to what I have to say like I'm actually an expert on the subject. Younger people ask you for advice. Elderly people don't think you're a threat to society. It's all rather nice.

4.    You have way more confidence

At 18 I was a size 8 with E cup boobs and hair halfway down my back. And I have never been so lacking in confidence. I was convinced that I was King Kong ugly and had an abnormal body compared to everyone else. And I did not know how to talk to boys in any way that wasn't jokingly insulting them or stammering a great deal. Now, I don't even care. I am fatter. I have more wrinkles. I have cellulite and some seriously cray bags under my eyes. But if I fancy someone I can flirt my bum off. And when I feel good, I STRUT. Because it is only going to get worse from here on out. Also, I increasingly realise that beauty and sexiness isn't about being tiny and perfect, it's about loving yourself and allowing others to love you. Fo sho. Sure I still have ugly days, where I try and avoid anyone seeing me but my wonderful housemate (who would love me even if I shaved my head and tattooed my face with the lyrics to The Ketchup Song) but most of the time I just don't care. It's more fun to like yourself and assume others do too and work it. Baybeee. (on a side note, if you need to feel sexy, pretend you're on set and someone is filming you for an underwear advert and yelling out 'work it! Move that thang! Shake what ya mama gave ya!' It may not make you feel like Kate Moss, but it is much fun.)

5. You understand that food is freakin' good, and most of your social events now revolve around it

'Shall we go for drinks?' 'NO let's go for cake!' You realise that you're attracted to men based on how much you can eat in front of them without them judging you. I realised how much I liked the guy I'm  dating when he was IMPRESSED when I ordered two kinds of carbs to go with my pulled pork. A number of my friends are currently on bridal diets and this means that I am often the only one at the table with food that is not green and leafy. I care not for this. When people come to my flat, they know that they will be fed. Sometimes they even leave with packed lunches. When people don't offer me snacks when I visit, I tend to be shocked and appalled (although, let's face it, this could be down to the Irish heritage and our obsession with food based hospitality)

6.  You can still do something wild and not have it be attributed to a midlife crisis or young person hi-jinks

Want to go work in another country for a year? Do it. New tattoo? Fab. Making out with someone entirely inappropriate? You go, you wild thang. Re-building a car? Go Greased Lightning.

7.  You can spend your money how you want to

I spend mine on cheese. And 50's dresses. And 2nd hand books. BECAUSE I CAN. 

8.   You know how to get crap done

You know what I did this year that I'm really proud of? I changed the light pull in my bathroom because the old one was grubby. You know what I would have done when I was younger? Let that thing rot off its string. I wash out my kitchen bin every fortnight and I empty my hoover when it stops working as well. I renew my Spotlight membership ahead of time and I've even planned what my next tattoo is. Procrastination? SUCK IT. I do stuff now that I didn't even know had to be done when I was younger. Like council tax. And making a file for my household forms. BOOM. Which means there are less nasty surprises. And when you're an actor/writer and earn very little, that makes life a lot easier!

9. You don't have to follow fashion anymore

Let's be honest-I've never really been a fashionista. I know what suits me, and that's well structured dresses and vintage prints. Jeans don't look wonderful on me, tulip skirts are my idea of hell and you can keep anything neon or acid coloured far from my eyeline. When I was younger I would try my hardest to do the whole fashion thing, but now I just buy things I actually like. Which means I have bypassed the whole pink coat thing that was so big this year (reminds me of my nan) and laugh gaily as I pass dungerees on the rack at H&M (I had a pair when I was 15 which I wore to V fest with a red bikini and Doc Martins. Never again.) Saying that, apparently frumpy, comfy clothes are coming back in fashion. In this case I may well become an avid follower of the catwalk. Pass me the slanket and my knee high socks. I am ON IT. 

10.  Dating is really great. No, but seriously.

I love dating. Dating when I was younger meant either awkwardly going to the cinema and avoiding eye contact (age 17) or going over to their house to make out under the pretense of watching films (age 18-22). The second one still happens, but dating when you're closer to thirty seems to be way more-for want of a better word-datey. I've been taken to swanky cocktail bars, to hip eateries, to concerts and recently bowling and on a ghost tour of London (SO AWESOME). You actually go on proper dates! And if you choose to go home with your date, or invite them back, no one judges you! Recently a 27 year old friend called me and told me about her amazement when she went on a date with a 23 year old and he not only hadn't planned anything for the date but then also said she couldn't stay over because 'it would be awkward with his housemates in the morning.' Erm...what?  The nice thing about dating later in your 20's is that not only are the dates more fun, because you both have slightly more money and can therefore afford to do exciting things, but you are also more honest. None of this pretending you're just mates till you have a snog nonsense. Also, you still get to talk to your mates about it afterwards and giggle like teenagers. Only this time, you do it over mimosas in a swanky bar. AWESOME. 

So yeah. Don't worry about getting older Reader. It's pretty darn groovy.

Ash

x

Post Christmas food coma...

Hello Reader! I hope you've had a wonderful festive season, whether it was Christmas, Hanukkah or Kwanzaa you were celebrating! I have just arrived back at Bag End, where I am currently avoiding unpacking my suitcase and playing with all my lovely Christmas pressies instead. I got a sewing machine! Which means lots more home made presents for my loved ones, and hopefully some hand made clothes for myself once I get the hang of it. So far I've worked out how to sew in a straight line. And re-thread the needle. Complex stuff for a gal who normally hand sews everything! Me and my godson's mum are already planning a series of 'Stitch and Bitch' afternoons where we mend things and set the world to rights. Possibly with hairnets on.

I also got a beautiful camera, which means that as soon as my external disk drive and memory cards arrive, AshActingUp will also extend to a YouTube channel near you! Keep an eye out for links in the new year. If any of my readers fancy making me a little intro clip with music to use on the vlogs, I'd be very grateful-I'll make you something wonky on my new machine!

So I'm assuming the rest of you, like me, are so bloated with food and booze that the prospect of fitting into anything other than smocks is looking like an impossible dream. I've been full on gorging myself with Boursin and Disaronno since November, so now is most definitely the time for eating lots of veggies and walking EVERYWHERE. Apart from NYE, obviously. Because I intend to eat A LOT of Chinese food and chocolate then. But yes, eating must be slightly less of a blood sport for the next month, as at the end of January I'm off filming for Sky again and need to fit into skinny jeans and a strap top. And look a bit bad ass. May need to head off for some aerobics classes in the mean time (god save me!). Luckily, I knew this time was coming, so I made sure I stuffed myself full of food over the Christmas period so I didn't feel like I'd be missing out in January. Sarnies filled with turkey, cheese, pickles, butter, crisps, stuffing and cranberry sauce were a particular favourite. As were my home made Gruyere and caramelised onion tarts (I made 12 just to be on the safe side). And of course, it's terribly important to polish off all those cold roasties with chutney and a dessert of ice cream with biscuits. I don't think I saw a food that wasn't smothered in either butter or cheese for most of December! So now all I want is a carrot with some humus. And a peppermint tea. I've had to hide all my crimble chocolate away so I don't get tempted and shove it all in my face at once-it'll be a lovely treat in February when I'm depressed by how cold and gloomy it is here in London!

I do realise too, that I shall have to take down the Christmas decorations at Bag End relatively soon. But given that I only just arrived back, I feel like that can wait. After all, the tree still looks so pretty and smells so nice! I feel that my housemate The Curly One may put her foot down if it gets to after New Years Day and the tree is still up though. Quite fairly!

Right lovely Reader, I am off to play on my sewing machine a bit more and maybe think about unpacking my suitcase (groan!),

Eat up those leftovers while you can!
Ash
x

My coconutty confession...

Reader, I am a terrible person. Why? When I got back from tour the other day, there was a full Tupperware container full of my favourite Irish biscuits, sort of a soft base with coconut covered pink marshmallow layered on top with a strip of neon red jam in the middle (it looks vaguely naughty from certain angles, but I've only just worked that out from trying to describe it without it sounding like a lady's secretive parts). Now the Tupperware is empty. For a while, I tried to convince myself that other people had been eating them too, but I must face the truth. It was me. I ate at least 15 biscuits in two days without really realising. I have a wheaty food baby and am on a strange sugar high and I'm pretty sure I've smeared marshmallow somewhere on my hair that will only be discovered when at the newsagent's tomorrow. This is also not the first time this has happened. By a long shot.

There was also the time I accidentally ate all the Christmas chocolate coins. All four bags. My reasoning was that it was officially after Christmas so I should really be congratulating myself. And before I knew it, all of the coins were buried treasure. And the time I melted down all my Eggs to make into fridge cake, so I could share it round and save myself from the calories. Silly idea, without the foil in the way there was nothing stopping me. The poor, innocent little fridge cake lasted less than a day. The Lad insists he only had three chunks, but surely he must be fibbing...

The thing is, I'm very good at sort of inhaling food. If it was a contest, I'd be an Olympic gold medalist. In fact, if they made it part of the games, I'm pretty sure I'd be able to give Britain a chance of winning this year. It's why I tend not to have nice treat food in the house. Because I don't realise I'm eating it until it's gone. And then I mourn it's absence. When there's only healthy food in the house, I eat very healthily. The other night at The Lad's new flat I had low fat aubergine bake. With no dessert. And no carbs. Ok, so I may have slightly grumbled about it, but I survived and was probably all the better for it. When I have my own place, there are certain foods that will just have to be outlawed. They are the following:

1) Bread-because if drunk enough or hormonal enough, I could eat a whole loaf.

2) Chocolate-obviously

3) Crisps-because I always think-oh, I'll just have half the bag, and then I eat the whole thing and sit in a smug salty pile of chubbiness.

4) Supernoodles-too easy to eat for a lazy lump like me (as in 'Hmmm....I could make a healthy tofu stir fry with all these veg....or I could have supernoodles on toast.....')

5) Chocolate or Honey nut based cerial-because I will treat it as a non-real-food product. In other words, consume it like air.

6) Biscuits-I think as the first paragraph mentions, I can't be trusted not to eat all of them by accident in one sitting

7) Salted nuts-See crisps

8) Dried Pineapple-even if massively healthy version. Have a strange addiction to it and WILL work my way through a family sized bag if left to my own devices.

9) Nutella-we had some in the house once, and then I discovered how good it was on a spoon and it vanished very very quickly

10) Processed cheese and onion pastries-don't judge me!

The fact is, if I have healthy food in the house, I am a very clever cook. I make a mean spicy ratatouille. And my garlic leeks in low fat cream cheese are sensational on top of a jacket potato or just with a bowl of greens. I do things to aubergine that make them taste like something that should be very very bad for you and I know how to make pancakes low fat. But I am a sucker for nasty, sugar filled, salt drenched, abjectly fake food. I think I may have to accept that my addiction to fatty fabulousness is just part of who I am and be proud of it. After all, everything in moderation, right?

Now I just have to work out how to shift the blame about those biscuits...
Ash
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Sweetness and light

Reader, I am one of those people that stockpiles naughty things to eat on long journeys. I'm not ashamed, in fact, I'm quite proud. There's something wonderfully sinful about creating a cosy little corner of Rocky road bites, brie and cranberry sarnies on white bread so processed it sticks to your teeth and share size packets of skips. It's slightly disgusting, like a little piggie munching away and ending up with food on it's cheeks and ears, but I meter out the treats so that the journey (whether it be by coach, train or plane) is interdispersed with my own personal tasting menu, and frankly I've always been a pig fan.

I just can't understand the travellers that are able to go long distances with just dried fruit (surely the unhappiest of foods? No one can take pleasure from a manic depressive dried mango. You can imagine the poor thing trying to sell itself 'I don't taste very good, but I'm healthy! Oh...well, yes, I am quite full of sugar but....no....no, I won't fill you up for longer than ten minutes. Ok. I'll just sit at the bottom of your handbag, chatting to your tampons and snotty tissues then.') And those that claim simply not to be hungry have clearly never experienced the joy of journey-munching. It's not about hunger. I don't think I've ever been hungry on a coach, or a train or a plane. I always have a good breakfast. But that's not the point! It's not about filling a hole, It's about decadence, enjoying something slightly wrong and sordid, because yes, eating junk food on a coach going to Yorkshire is vaguely sordid. Sitting there, hunch backed, your arm rounded so that no one can see just how trashy your magazine is while you shovel cheese and pringle sarnies into your gob, and the size 4 stick insect a few seats ahead looks horrified as she talks to her travelling companion about her very small dog and how they're both on a diet of celery and lime juice. It's like watching Jeremy Kyle when a documentary on women in politics is on the other channel. Yes, it makes you a chav, but it's so much more fun.

When you leave the coach, the aim should be to feel sticky, fat, a litttle nauseous but also a little smug. Because what could have been a very dull journey was a culinary delight. And yes, you might have to have a bowl of leaves for dinner that night so you don't develop diabetes or have a sugar based brain explosion, but as you grin, bread teethed at skinny girl, you can at least be assured that your quality of life on that journey was a great deal better than hers.

Today, I am feasting on chocolate raisins and salty popcorn, mixed together in a savoury/sweet swirl of goodness whilst listening to the Abba Gold album. And you know what? I wouldn't exchange it for dried mango and reading the financial times for the world.

Right, time to hit the trashy mags,
Ash
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Wibble wobble wibble wobble, belly on a plate!

Reader, Norwich is not doing good things for me. In two weeks, I have gone from having close to washboard abs to having a jiggly just-had-twins belly. I blame the really nice food places. And staying with people who know how to cook and do it on a nightly basis. And there being loads and loads of celebrations going on at the mo.

Ideally I need to cut right down on nice food and stick to carrots, slices of lemon and nettle tea. And other such nasty tasting food. This is slightly unlikely since a) tomorrow I am being taken to Norwich's best pizza place and b) there is a massive box of baklava in the kitchen. Both of these things have enormous power over me. Maybe I'll start being healthy again on Tuesday? *sigh* I am destined to be jiggly. The Lad loves me however I look, so long as I have pokemon cards and scratch his back. He is like a cross between an 11 year old and a dog. He is also slightly part of the problem. We celebrated a late Valentines together on Friday, and he made me an enormous chocolate pudding cake (I was impressed!), got me gourmet popcorn and fed me Chinese take away (as well as giving me a stunningly gorgeous bunch of cream tea-roses). The Lad clearly knows me very well. And then it was my lovely Dad's birthday and of course we went to our fave Italian and had deep fried cheese to celebrate! However, by the end of the weekend, I was stretched out with food like the kid in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who turns into a giant blueberry. Maybe I should try and take up jogging again. And stomach crunches. And eat celery for breakfast. How do A-listers do it? Drugs? I have to say, the thought that they're all on some kind of diet pill that gives them all gross bum-discharge makes me feel slightly happier. All those gorgeous film stars wearing tena lady under their Alexander McQueen dresses, mwa ha ha!

Or maybe they all just say no to the third peanut butter and dark chocolate cookie....whoops....

Oh well. I'm still smaller than most of the shouty american women on Maury. Mostly. And I don't have 18 potential fathers for my unattractive baby, so that's a plus. Maury really is great viewing. If you haven't seen it, it's basically where a middle class grandfather listens to prostitutes talking about red necks and unemployed men being the fathers of their kids, and then when the men say 'uhm....naw....' they start screaming and pointing at an oversized photo of said ugly child going 'Look at these here ears! They HIS ears! Look at this stupid frowny forehead! That HIS forehead! I am TWO BILLION percent positive he's my baby daddy' then the audience does a collective 'booooooo! hiiiiissss! He A PLAYAAAAA' sort of thing. Then when the dna results come out saying that he is not in fact 'the baby daddy', the woman runs off the stage screaming and says she doesn't understand, when it's really all quite simple, she slept with more than one person without a condom, so it's possible it's someone else's problem. Then she comes back on the show 17 times, each time with a different man. I always think at that stage....how on earth did you find the time to have all that sex? Because presumably it had to be within a certain time period if she had a baby by one of them? Of say, three weeks or so? That's practically a man a day! When did she find the time to shave her legs? Or change her bedsheets? And where did she meet them all? I assume that they were not all long term partners, because if so her life would have been highly complicated (well....more highly complicated) and surely they would have mentioned that on Maury. Maury, by the way, usually sits through all this with a sort of pained 'I'm 70 years old, I'd rather be at home with a shortbread biccy watching Golden Girls' and says sensible things like 'why don't you leave that chap that keeps sleeping with transvestite 16 year olds? He's obviously not an ideal match for you' to which the women always go all gooey eyed and say 'but I loooooove him'. This is before they lamp the man in question for cheating on them yet again of course. I once went to be in the audience of Trisha. It wasn't nearly as scandalous, but I won a tee for asking the best question of the day (if you're interested, it was to a girl who was so obsessed with Harry Potter that she was convinced he was real and was saving herself for Daniel Radcliffe. I can't remember what the question was, but it was searing and witty and probably highly political. I got a round of applause and looks of admiration from all round. Trisha invited me round for tea after. This may be a slight exaggeration, but only slightly.)

Anyway, back to rehearsing tomorrow after my lovely weekend. Normally going back to work is a chore after such a great time away at home, but to be honest, I'm loving every second of it! In fact, the director isn't even in tomorrow, so we could have just chilled out in local pubs, but Haversham, Young Pip and I decided to crack on and practice some vaguely dangerous blocking on some stairs and do some line learning. My job is brilliant! Here's a sneak peak at what the show's looking like so far...

Pretty exciting stuff eh? If you want to find out more, go look up the Baroque Theatre Company. I'm not doing your job for you, go, look! It's pretty cool though, you'll kick yourself if you don't come see it. Not that I'm biased or anything. Obviously.

Hope you had a great weekend too Reader!
Ash
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Ash and Gunther against the world!

Reader, I have moved to Norwich for the month for my rehearsals. I am currently living out a few dreams of mine,

a) Being a full time actress and getting paid for it (obviously, did I even really need to put that down?)

b) Living with one of my oldest friends (something we said we'd do when we were about 11 but never got round to what with boyfriends and careers and things)

c) Living in the countryside again (I'm going to skip through some fields, y'know, when the snow goes away)

d) Doing a friggin' DICKENS story!?!

Yep, it is a good time. Of course, there are also a few negatives

a) I am away from The Lad. It is the first night and already I miss having someone to put my cold cold feet against

b) My friend (and host) and her boyfriend are brilliant cooks. And are determined to feed me up. I have to stay the same size so I'll fit in my costume. These things do not go hand in hand. In fact, they don't even nod at each other as they pass on the street. They live at the opposite ends of opposite town, one in a very nice neighbourhood with big terraced houses, and the other in the artists quarter, with posters stuck up with blue tack on the walls. I cannot, repeat, CANNOT be a rotund Estella. This would not be ideal, and everyone would be confused as to why Estella was squashing Pip. (Answer, because it is Miss. Havisham's revenge on men)

c) I am living in the countryside again. Last time I did this it caused me to take up smoking, get a tattoo and become a raging drunkard. The countryside has that sort of effect on me.

Me and my stuffed penguin Gunther are having a lovely time, despite the negatives as described as above. We were made curry and given chocolates (see point B), watched some seriously trashy tv (which made us feel smug about how much better our lives were than the teens we were laughing at) and then some 30 Rock (which made us hopeful that one day we would be as wonderful as Tina Fey who we love), talked about ancient Grecian-Egyptian relationships (in other words, old fashioned bonking) and I unpacked all my stuff to discover that I haven't forgotten any chargers (surely a first for me?) and have even remembered to bring both night cream and deodorant (I am so organised right now that I'm practically the Prime Minister of Iceland's PA-high hopes Ash). Now, we're in bed, reading some Manga (so old school) and mentally preparing for meeting a whole room of new people. Am willing myself not to say anything offensive/mind numbingly stupid/pompous out of nervousness but it's highly likely that I will do all three. Eep. I will have to make cakes at some point to appease everyone, just in case.

Anyway Reader, sleep calls, it's been a long day of trudging through snow and being on coaches and trains!
Ash
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Last meal....

Reader, I was thinking today about what my last meal would be. You know, if I didn't have to limit myself by getting full or anything. I know, it's a bit morbid, but if I DID become a crazed serial killer in America and got caught and put on death row, and then got offered a last meal it would be the following:

Deep fried brie with cranberry sauce. Not just little measly bits, a big old wedge. And it has to be really hot, so hot the cheese is like liquid lava. Proper fish and chip shop style chips on the side to dip into the last drips of the melty cheese. And warm french bread with cold salted butter (which has to be one of the most delicious things in the whole world).

Next, I'd have home made veggie lasagne (with three kinds of cheese, mozzarella, cheddar and parmigiana). Obviously, overflowing with veggies like asparagus, spinach, artichoke, onion, black olives, chilli and garlic. My breath would have to stink after. So much so that the executioner would probably have to stand back a bit when they pushed the button, or the syringe, or...erm...ok, so I'm not great when it comes to semantics of execution, but still. 

Even though I'm a veggie, I'd have aromatic duck pancakes with all the trimmings (except for cucumber, no one wants that), I mean, it's my last meal right? Surely by not eating meat my whole life I'd have earned the right to eat one measly duck by then (apart from all the murders to warrant having to have a last meal of course). I'd also have salt and pepper aubergine and veggie noodles. And prawn crackers. There would be a bowl of rice (steamed, obvo) some veggie korma, tarka dahhl (is that even how you spell that) and something brilliantly spicy. An naan bread. Garlic. (More fun for the executioner).

There would also have to be a bowl of very buttery, peppery mashed potato. And maybe some pesto pasta (that tricalore stuff, I love multicoloured food). 

For pudding, it's all about a peanut butter and blueberry jam sundae. Or a 7 layer chocolate pudding cake from Insider Tart. Or a lemon tart, with ice cream. Or a really moist sticky toffee pudding, complete with dates and loads of syrup, with ice cream. Or Ben and Jerry's ice cream, with ice cream. Or a chocolate trolley. I'm pretty sure those exist. With ice cream. I would also have to have some fresh doughnuts, and blue candy floss.

Then some mint humbugs. Just so I don't burn the executioner's eyebrows.  Everything would be washed down with really cold diet coke. Or lucozade. Both with ice. 

I'm hungry. I'm going to go have a not last snack. With ice cream.

Ash

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Hermitisation...

Reader, today I had my last day of work of the year. I was really tempted not to go because

a) I've twisted my ankle and so have a ridiculous limp (and the job involved lots of walking)
b) I had a crazy allergic reaction and one of my eyes was so swollen when I woke up I could barely open it
c) I'd had 3 hours sleep

but I went anyway because my boss is lovely and it would have been ridiculously hard to find someone to cover for me at such late notice. Also, because it was the last day, I knew it would be lovely and everyone would be full of high spirits! This turned out to be true of my co-workers, but not so much the  po-faced business people we were trying to give flyers to. But nothing could shake my optimism, because it's Christmas really really soon and the woman who won our big prize draw was both pregnant and had a hubby in the armed forces which meant she might be spending the holidays alone (well...actually, she was wearing a Help for Heroes badge, so I just sort of assumed all the rest, but it certainly made it more special when she won £500 in vouchers!). And now I'm free Reader! Free to spend my days watching film after terrible film on the Christmas24 movie channel and sneaking chocolates off the tree! Free to attempt to make a card holder (might leave that to my dad actually, his card holders are the stuff of legend. They don't always work, but they always look interesting. Like a piece of conceptional art from the 90s)! Free to make yule logs and try and make my hair get the Nigella bounce!

Today I got to watch It's A Wonderful Life with the parents (and a glass of something alcoholic and orangey) at which I cried (as I always do), plus we got to crack open the first box of chocolates of the season and I was introduced to The Graduate which made me cackle like an old biddy. How have I not seen it before? It's such a class act of a film, and so not what I expected. I even had a chance to tidy my room and get halfway through Jane Eyre (one of my fave winter books) whilst also planning my Gran's Yule log (I'm making the desserts for her Christmas dinner this year) and managing not to fall over my pathetic limpy foot. And to be honest, I'm planning on not leaving the house (with the exception of dire emergencies like more cream being needed or running out of brie) till we go to visit family on Christmas Eve!

On that note Reader, good night! Hope your dreams are full of mince pies and crackers!
Ash
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Children steal the covers

Reader, last night my seven year old cousin stayed over (largely to allow her parents to go to a Christmas party) which gave me a taste of what it must be like to have kids. As it's me doing the looking after, of course, there was quite a bit of baking, which mostly involved me making her wash her hands every five minutes because she's got a cough. Also there was lots of 'Can I lick the bowl?' 'No, it's got raw egg in it', 'what about this bowl?' ' That bowl too' 'what about this one?' 'That's got flour in it' 'But can I lick it?' (thinks about it) 'go on then'....'GAH! It tastes horrible!' Life lesson learnt there. Not sure what life lesson, maybe 'not everything in a cake bowl tastes like cake' but I feel like that's some serious parenting right there.

The other thing that came about was that little cousin taught me some life lessons. She tried some cookie dough *what is it about kids having to try everything* and went 'OW' then told me it was far too hot and she'd burnt her tongue. Being a smug grown up, of course, I tried some, only to yelp when my tongue singed. So what life lesson is that 'believe kids when they tell you not to do something'? To be fair, this is the same girl who won't use our loo without someone standing guard outside because there's a mermaid picture in there that freaks her out, she claims when she looked at it, it widened it's eyes at her (she watches a lot of Dr. Who), to try and calm her down, I told her the picture granted wishes, but she just said 'you can have my wish then'. Clever girl.

Because little cousin wanted a proper girly sleepover, we snd set out the sofa bed in the gym, where we watched Hoodwinked (which she loved). The only thing was, little cousin got to sleep pretty early and slept through all night, whereas I was up about four times, checking all the tree lights were off, checking Dad had got in ok, at one point I even got worried the little one might get hypothermia, so I went and got another blanket out to lay on top of us. Clearly little cousin had no such similar concerns for me, as when we woke up in the morning, she had turned herself into a sort of blanket larvae, and I was shivering like a little frost bitten match girl. At which point she was cheeky enough to go 'It was lovely and warm last night, wasn't it Ash?'. No, no it bleeding wasn't. Currently, she's pretending to be a spy with my dad, who's telling her she needs a fake tache as a disguise. She's convinced spying just involves hiding, but she is clearly wrong.

It just reinforces the idea in my head that I don't need to have kids yet. I have more than enough young cousins that I can look after them for a day, get my parenting fix and then pass them back to their parents when I need alone time. Easy peasy. None of this having to sort them out when they misbehave nonsense, just the fun watching cartoons bit.

Also, last night, my friend Kate popped over with her lovely mum and gave me some home made truffles. Am I excited about eating them? I've been thinking of little else since they arrived. Today is my last weigh in before Christmas, which means I can actually enjoy Christmas food from now on! Hurrah!

8 more sleeps till Christmas Reader!
Ash
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P.s. hopefully you'll be getting the festive cake blog soon!

Another cake day, another cake blog entry...

Well, the response from my entry on mine and SJ's cake exploits has been fantastic (thank you all for your messages and tips!) so we've decided to make it a semi-regular occurrence! This may mean that by the end we'll be as fat as hippos (hippopotomi? That sounds vaguely sciency.) but will be delightful degrees of fun. And guess what? We did another one this week!

So here it is

ASH AND SJ'S SOHO/COVENT GARDEN AUTUMN CUPCAKE SHOP ROUND UP! (bit of a long title but oh well...)


1. PATISSERIE VALERIE'S BLUEBERRY CUPCAKE

First and foremost, I think it's important to point out that we love Patisserie Valerie. It's not only pretty, but it's cosy. And they do really pretty pastries, which we've really enjoyed in the past (indeed, as much as we love love love cupcakes, when we went in it was all we could do to not gobble up their flaky goodness instead).
And when we saw this cupcake, we were just as excited. I mean, look at it. It's blue. It has a white chocolate star on it for crying out loud. Someone's casually but professionally drizzled a cheeky bit of chocolate over it. Even the paper casing had a little frill. It was a bit like seeing a fittie on the tube that you know is a bit out of your league but is looking at you with sultry eyes none the less. But like in that situation, you know that there must be something slightly off, like an STD or a girl's dodgily tattooed on their bum that sours the deal. After all, surely something that looks that good can't taste as fabulous? It's like a trap or something.

And in this case, our theory was right. When we ordered it, our server looked a bit shocked, like 'Seriously? You only want one? You're crazy...' Which was a pretty great way of up-selling because a) we felt instantly guilty and b) we thought that meant that the cake would be so good we'd want way more. But we managed to resist. Now, it is also important to point out that we didn't actually know what the flavour of cupcake was when we got it. Our choice was made by going 'oohh blue, pretty!'. The cakes weren't clearly labelled, not that there was much in the way of choice of colours anyway. When we tasted it, we were both confused as heck. I tasted what I thought might be lemon, SJ picked out a grape flavour, but we were both in agreement that it was sickly as anything. The server was the one that told us what it was supposed to taste like, but neither of us could actually taste any blueberry in the icing. The sponge was almost brioche-like, on the verge of savoury, which turned out to be a good thing because if the icing had been any sweeter we'd have lost teeth. It balanced it slightly. Because of the sickly nature of the icing, it would benefited from some fresh fruit like bitter blueberries rather than chocolate as a decoration to offset the sweetness. We agreed that we'd probably not have been able to finish a whole cake ourselves, and we're pretty greedy.

So although the cake was aright, it didn't set us on fire like some have in the past. A resounding 'MEH' for Patisserie Valerie! In the end, it got 20 and a half out of thirty.

2. CRUMBS & DOILIES PUMPKIN AND CREAM CHEESE CUPCAKES

SJ had sent me a link before we'd set off, that led to the Crumbs and Doilies website. I've got to say, I was pretty excited. They seemed passionate about their cakes, a passion that I recognised pretty darn well. And I loved the sound of their cake flavours. I mean, who could possibly have a problem with salted caramel right? And when we got there, we were excited to see that they had a seasonal cake. Pumpkin and cream cheese! How twee! How fabulously autumnal! With visions of smokey bonfire flavours and that lovely sharp tang you get with pumpkin flavours, we dug in our pockets for the £2 required (a little steep for a stall cupcake, but it sounded so great we thought it would be a bargain). The guy running the stall hadn't actually tried it yet, but was about to sink his teeth into one as we arrived. We can only wonder what his response to it was. 

But before we talk about flavour, we have to mention a bit of a pet peeve of ours you may have noticed from our previous blog entry. No box. Ok, so they included a paper doily. Which was a nice touch, but the paper doily was no excuse for the cake being just put in a plastic wrapping (not even a flat bottomed bag!) so we had to carry it around all day like a bleedin' newborn. Luckily the cream didn't smoosh up in the wrapping. 

Right, now we've got that out of the way, we need to move on to the next problem. It looked a bit boring. Which isn't a massive issue, because grown up, boring looking cupcakes can be seen as elegant (although we prefer ones that look like cartoon pictures by a five year old, with lots of glitter and nicely piped icing). But this one had icing that had clearly just been spooned on and some half hearted pistachio (why not pumpkin seeds by the by, it would have kept with the theme far more!). It looked like the cupcake equivalent to water crackers. Yeah they're minimalist, but we prefer sparkles thanks. Or at least a small flag.

On the taste side of things, we actually had to double check what the flavour was. We'd been really excited about this one, thinking it was a truly unusual flavouring. But firstly, the 'cream cheese' frosting, didn't taste anything like cream cheese. It tasted like soap. We decided that this was probably down to too much icing sugar being used, an easy mistake to make but it was cloying and quite unpleasant. The cake itself tasted of carrot cake, so much so in fact that we got SJ's sister to come and do a blind tasting so we could see what she thought. Like us, she was pretty sure it was carrot cake. Which was nice for her, she loves carrot cake. But since we were expecting pumpkin flavours, we were seriously unimpressed. Saying that, even though the cake had been carried around all day, it still tasted fresh, with great texture. Overall we gave it 13/30. It would have got more if we'd thought it was a carrot cake, but Reader, it lied. IT. LIED. 

3. HUMMINGBIRD BAKERY'S CARAMELISED NUT CUPCAKE

Oh. My. God. We want to live in The Hummingbird Bakery. We want to bathe in the Hummingbird Bakery icing. We frankly, quite like it.

Walking in, the décor was lush. It was like seeing where good cupcakes go after they die. Lovely wallpaper, a calming atmosphere, a glowing pregnant woman behind the till. And the cakes! Wow. They looked like you could have got them from Tiffany's, like they were carved from clouds. They were a bit pricey, but for what looked like luxury items, it was a brilliant deal. Plus, even though we personally ate in, we noticed that they provided individual cake boxes should we have wanted them. Heaven! 

The choices were sensational, but we decided on the caramelised nut flavour because it looked so shiny and it was the 'Taste of The Day'. The nuts were golden in their caramel casing, the icing fluffy and soft. When we cut it in two, the sponge slid apart like Moses parting the sea. And the taste. Oh man. The taste was so glorious that it left us speechless, our eyes wide like saucers. It passed SJ's goosebump taste. They were so wonderful that they made us think of childhood Christmases, sugar plum fairies and  bedtime stories about royal banquets. They were really generous with the icing and nuts and in the buttercream, there were tiny flakes of caramel which melted on the tongue with an electrifying crackle. And best of all, although the icing was super sweet, it managed to not be sickly! For the first time, we awarded a cake 10/10 for price, and it ended up only being marked down on price (because it was pretty pricey) and staff (because they didn't really make any effort with us).

4. COX, COOKIES AND CAKES BANOFFEE MAN CAKE

When we first talked about doing a cake blog in SoHo, the sin district of London, Cox, Cookies and Cakes was one we knew we had to try. We'd walked past it many times and had seen the queues of people buying rude cakes and the dance beats streaming from it. Patrick Cox, the fabulous shoe designer, started the firm, and we are so so glad we did. Cox Cakes is like the Sex and the City of the cupcake world. It's risqué, camp, urban and utterly charming. When we walked in, we were greeted by the (frankly adorable) server who donned a pvc studded apron and made great recommendations. Unfortunately, they were out of their famous mint chocolate c**k cakes, so we decided to go for a banoffee man cake instead. It was gorgeously decorated with fudge bits around it and the pink chocolate torso poking salubriously out of the saucy icing. We were slightly outraged at the £4 price-tag but our shock was MUCH lessened when the server told us we got a free hot coco each for eating in, served elegantly in tall shot glasses. If you look at it that way, for two drinks and a cake, £4 seems paltry. The cream was particularly wonderful, whipped cream cheese tasting with a buttery edge. We couldn't taste much in the way of banana, but we didn't really care. The cake had style, it tasted wonderful and the texture was to die for, and just eating in the shop was an out of this world experience. Patrick Cox is one of our new heroes, he's clearly put his stamp on the place and we're so glad he did. At 27/30, he was our winner for the day (and props to the server, who got the place a score of 10/10 for staff!)

Plus of course, I was even tempted into bringing a cake back for the lad, which he hugely enjoyed...Bravo Cox, Cookies and Cakes. Your naughty cakes have brought joy into our hearts and fat into our arteries.

5. GREGG'S CHOCOLATE CHILLI CUPCAKE AND HALLOWEEN CUPCAKE

As you might recall Reader, we are very interested in finding a cake that's more available to the masses nationally, one that you can try whether you live in London or Liverpool. So we always make sure we test a high street variety. This week, we decided upon Gregg's. After all, they make a damn fine cheese and onion pasty, so why wouldn't they make great cupcakes? We were excited by the prospect of the chocolate and chilli cakes in particular, with thoughts in our minds of the glorious film Chocolat and Heston's brilliant creations. Then, we noticed that there was a special deal on where you could also get the Halloween cupcakes (in orange and purple) for 70p a cupcake! So, loving a good deal as we do, we got one of each.

Reader, we've never been so gutted over a cupcake before.

The service, first and foremost was dreadful. The server didn't know what cakes we were talking about, nor about the deal, then tried to shove them into a far too small paper bag (they're cream topped for crying out loud!) before we intervened and begged him to put them in a box. From the way he acted you'd think it was the maddest idea ever.

Now when we got them home, we got the chance to really look at them. Well, the past the pretty test at least. They were nicely piped, unusually decorated and we liked the novelty of the colours and flavour ideas. That's about where the good things end.

We'll start with the lesser of two evils, the Orange Halloween cupcake. Well, for a child, who likes bright things, this cupcake might work. But the icing is acidic tasting and extremely artificial, with a sharp overly sherberty taste to it. If we were kids, this was a cake that would probably have ended up mashed in our hair rather than settled in our bellies. The sponge was slightly salty and dry and even the gummy worm on top tasted of bland sadness. Saying that, it might keep a child entertained for a few seconds. And at 70p, it's not that big a deal if they don't eat it. We wouldn't recommend trying it though, it tasted of cheap penny sweets, the kind that you find at the very bottom of the cinema pick n mix bag after you've eaten all the gummy worms and quality street and you can't remember why you got them, because they even LOOK poisonous.

 And now for the second one. Reader, a cupcake has never made me feel physically sick before. This one did. The cake was ridiculously hard to cut, which is never a good sign. And as soon as we put the thing in our mouths, the reaction was visceral. Words like 'argh!' 'No!' and 'Wrong!' were bandied around. We could only compare the flavour to a misguided pizza attempt, or mouldy monster munch. Not only did the cake contain chocolate and chilli, but also red pepper and lime (???) and for some reason, the makers had decided that rather than combining the chocolate and chilli in the sponge and then making like a chocolate chilli ganache for the icing, the'd make a dry, almost sandy chocolate sponge with an icing of chilli, red pepper and lime. It was so wrong. Naughty Gregg's. Naughty. 70p may be cheap, but it got 0/10 on our scale. Why? Because you should have been paying US to eat that monstrosity. In fact, it was so awful that our faces couldn't even possibly show how terrible it was. We had to ask a friend's cat to come and do it for us. So here are our scores, and Oscar the Cat's reaction on our behalf.

Next time on our cake travels, we'll be testing Department stores in London for their cake stakes!

Sugary kisses

Ash and SJ

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Falling in love again...

Oh Reader, today I fell in love so many times my head is spinning. I've got that hot flush of excitement that only comes when you've got a massive crush and I'm pretty sure it's the start of a beautiful relationship. It's going to be an expensive one though.

It all started when I was supposed to be writing another blog on cakes with the wonderful SJ *see the last blog*. I turned up to the station, just in time to get 3 texts and a voice-mail warning me that she was on the train back to visit her parents because she'd thought I'd meant next Thursday (bloody technology eh?). So I decided to spend my newly free morning doing a spot of shopping. I got a disastrous swimming costume from Primark (got home to discover a) it was so tummy controlled that it took half an hour to get over my thighs, b) the colour makes me look like an 80s exercise loon and c) the shape gets rid of my waist and boobs so I just look like a weeble's wobble) and then went to have a look round Selfridge's. And that's where it really began. First I went to have a little look round the underwear section. It was like seeing what I could be if I starved myself long enough and exfoliated more often. Agent Provocateur was amazing (can I have some of their silk stockings please?) but some of the leather contraptions were a bit scary. I even saw a pair of pants by Stella McCartney for £300. Who spends that much on something you put on your bum? Foolish foolish people. Then (feeling slightly less excited about my £5 Primark lingerie)  I went down to the clothes level and came across the Viv Westwood bit. The tailoring was sensational. I think the people working there started to get a bit worried that I was a bit wrong in the head, I kept moaning in vaguely erotic ecstasy over the gathering on the dresses and in particular one red tartan jacket (very Clueless). In the end I had to leave because I had a tear in my eye (mainly due to the prices, yikes!). So off I went to the food hall. Oh the food hall. It was like being in an even better version of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. There were so many options for veggies, sushi, proper cupcakes with real buttercream, massive meringues and Italian style deli's. There were so many kinds of cheese I nearly had a seizure. At one point I caught myself cooing at some asparagus salad. They even had a special american aisle where they sold kraft mac n cheese (which I so so nearly got) and the most amazing veggies you've ever seen. By the time I went to meet Kate at The Museum of Everything on the bottom floor, I was drooling. They had to mop the floor after I left.

Kate was unimpressed with how gobsmacked I was by Selfridge's (probably because she gets to see it every day) and promised me that if I liked Selfridge's then I'd LOVE Liberty. So we met up with Katy (confusingly similar names, very different people, both fabulous friends) and we went for an inspection. Reader, we got to the jewellery section and that's as far as we went. We spent 45 minutes looking round most of the room, then discovered an amazing concession by a woman names Annina Vogel. She takes antique and vintage jewelery (usually gold, hurrah!) and turns it into some of the most gorgeous jewellery I've ever seen. We literally stood there, alternating between gasping at the gorgeous charms and gossiping with the lovely lovely concession attendant for about an hour. It flew by. There was even a little penisandballs charm in gold! *I particularly wanted that one. You could say I had penis envy! Hohoho* If you want a look at how fab Annina's work is, you can check out her stuff here but I would recommend actually going to Liberty to see it, as the girl who runs the concession has a great eye and really knows her stuff. Plus, the range is a lot wider and there are some fantastic pieces not displayed on the site. Pretty much everything there is either a one off or severely limited edition, so much nicer than something off the high street like H.Samuels or Links!

Anyway, I shall be going to sleep and dreaming of a future where I'm rich and skinny enough to wear Stella McCartney pants under my Viv Westwood dress, eating some Selfridge's food and dripping with Annina's jewellery!
Night Reader!
Ash
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You can tell I'm happy by the cartoon birdies...

Reader, I must apologise. I have been re-reading some of my most recent entries, and dear god, I've been boringly down in the dumps. But I am in such a better mood now! I think it's a combo of all the goat's cheese I've been eating and the sunshine and the avoiding nasty processed crap, but I feel sickeningly happy. All is well in Ash-land this week, I've had a whole collection of skinny days (most girls' idea of heaven), I get to eat chocolate every day, I'm seeing my girlfriends on Friday for dinner and drinks, I get to make cakes during the day with my adorable child-minding charges, I'm getting a new phone on Monday (a HTC Sensation in case you were interested) PLUS I'm having a dinner party on Saturday.

 Now, dinner party is perhaps stretching it, it's more having a couple of people over to eat vast amounts of cheese and potato, but still. Now, throwing dinner parties isn't something I do every week Reader, don't get me wrong, but I do love it. The excuse to bake lots of cakes is always good (and yes, even though there will only be 7 of us MAXIMUM I'm still making 3 kinds of cake). And they're people I practically never get the chance to see, let alone impress with my mad skillz in the kitchen. Now obviously I will be spending a whole two days in front of a stove and have had to take a day off work (lucky I am babysitting that day also so it will not be utterly devoid of the quids) but it is SO utterly worth it for the noises of munching and delight that will occur on Saturday.

Am watching a lot of a Vlogger called Katersoneseven on youtube at the moment. She's really addictive to watch, so give it a go. She's basically an English girl in America and she reminds me a lot of my circle of friends. I'd very much like to hang out with her, because she is awesome and very fun. This is unlikely to happen because she lives in America, and is a famous Vlogger, and also mainly because I don't know her even a little bit, but still. Katers, if you're reading this: you are one cool jelly bean, let's be buddies.

And with that fan moment all done,
Bye bye!
Ash
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