A delightful lunch at Bread Street Kitchen, St. Paul’s.
“Doesn’t taste like Newark”.
Excessively enjoying a conveyor belt of cheese and charcuterie at Pick & Cheese at Seven Dials Market.
The European stopped at a charity shop and got beaten to a Chinese tea set by the fastest old Chinese lady in the world. What a hipstery afternoon it was.
Because I would prefer to line HMRC’s pockets buying Italian food rather than American candy and Froot Loops.
Remnants of the Tartufo and sausage pizzas made for an exciting working-from-home lunch the next day.
“Ms. Galetti, it’s genuinely wonderful to meet you, but my pigeon is getting cold!”
Crappy weather. But oh, to be able to dine-in, even it is out!
Lauded by Michelin-starred chefs, this is the recipe that got me into baking.
A wonderful cake born out of fear and a lost bet. Poor me.