We all do different things to unwind. I can’t fathom going for a run to clear your head, or playing first person shooting games for hours. But one of my old post-work rituals was befitting of someone about 40 years older than me and the opposite gender – a nice quiet pub, a pint of ale, and a book. Shoes off and feet up on the sofa like I lived there, it was a sanctuary away from work stress and, crucially, out of the tiny flat I lived in. It’s also where I became “a beer drinker”.
There’s this idea, somehow, that women don’t drink beer, that all we really want is a white wine or maybe a G&T. But, although an adolescence that featured only Fosters or Boddingtons should have put me off, I can attest firmly to the fact that we quite like a pint, too.
So of course, when an email landed in my inbox about the Ladies Love Beer night at Neighbourhood, near Stratford, I was quick to confirm that I’d be there with bells on.
I went into the event a little sceptical – purely because my taste is quite specifically the darker, richer end of the spectrum. I’m not into “hoppy”, or “citrus”, and I’m certainly against lagers, which to me often taste more like they should be in the back room of a doctor’s surgery in a sample pot. So I headed off to Very East London, and I was pleasantly surprised. Read More
-l-l. Lemon and lime loaf would have been a much more pleasing name for this easy-peasy cake, but we can’t miss out the gin drizzle. Really, even lemon, lime, and gin loaf isn’t its proper name – since I dreamt it up on a rogue afternoon off work, what I’ve called it in my head is Victorian malady cake, with scurvy and mother’s ruin in mind. And it’ll certainly have you saying, “Please, I want some more.”
It’s possible I’ve binge-watched too much Dickensian.
In a distinctly non-austerity move, this cake calls for real butter. Almost a whole block of it! I was pro-margarine before, mostly due to its significantly lower price, but you really can’t beat butter* for the flavour it gives, not to mention that oh-so-tempting yellow colour.
The gin, meanwhile, isn’t a boff-you-in-the-face taste, but more of a back-of-the-mouth hint. Just enough to subtly evoke summer days. If you want the gin flavour to feature more? Increase it in the drizzle by a tablespoon or two.
This cake is an easy flash-forward to sunny afternoons, a creation you can whip up without any real elbow grease at all. A beat, a mix, a fold, and a drizzle, and you’re done.
Move over, all other variations, for I have found the most warming, accidentally-boozy, rich hot chocolate out there. Even if you make it with low-calorie drinking chocolate, we’re talking thick, dark, and creamy. This is serious business. Meet caramel spiced rum hot chocolate.
e’ve all been there – the end of summer is nearing and your calendar features more barbecues than it does weekdays beginning with S as us Brits clamber to get the last of the rays before they disappear for another six months. Caught up in the traditions, the Pimms is flowing and beers are chilling, and it’s fruit juice only for the designated drivers and non-drinkers. But skipping out on the alcohol doesn’t have to mean making do with warm lemonade hastily dug out from the back of a cupboard. Read More
I think it’s about time we got some healthy living up in here. I’ve loved the recent parade of cakes and pastries, but it’s hard not to feel guilty when you realise that your Instagram feed looks remarkably like a bakery’s shop window.
You may have noticed already, but I’m all about trying to pack as many of my five-a-day into one glass as possible. I’m a bit of a fussy eater – my allegiance lies with Pink Lady apples and no other – but blitzed up with honey and yoghurt, fruit doesn’t have to feel like a chore. It can even feel kind of like dessert.
In all honesty, this isn’t really a recipe, more of a flavour combination suggestion. You know when you get a mango that maybe is a lower grade than is ideal for just eating? Sometimes, when the flesh of a mango is fibrous or doesn’t quite have the right sweetness, you just need to throw it into a smoothie and be damned with any other plans.
1 banana, peeled and cut into chunks
150g fat-free yoghurt
1 small mango, peeled and cut into chunks
1tbsp desiccated coconut
1 tbsp honey
2tbsp cold water
Using a blender or immersion blender, combine the banana and yoghurt until smooth. Add the rest of the ingredients, blend, and serve cold.
Sprinkle crushed up speculoos/Lotus biscuits on the top to be extra fancy.