Primrose Bakery - an olfactory time machine

Anyone in the know about bakeries and other such things in London will have heard of Primrose Bakery. With two branches, in Primrose Hill and Covent Garden, their cakes have always been on my list of culinary goodies to try, as their cookbook has always been on my list of books I must own.

Imagine my combined joy and anger recently then, when I discovered that the Primrose Hill branch is a mere two minute walk from where I been working for the past two months, and where I spent last summer working too; joy that I could now make my long-intended pilgrimage, but anger that I had been missing out for more than a year. In hindsight, my waistline and bank balance will both have benefited from my ignorance, so it's not an entirely bad thing.

Naturally, I visited at the first chance I got. Situated among the beautiful terraced houses on the edge of Primrose Hill, just a stone's throw from Regent's Park, lends an aspirational air. Walking down these streets, you want to live here. You want to be part of the Primrose Hill set who can pop into the bakery on a whim, on a quiet Tuesday morning. The location makes the bakery feel secret, as if only a select few people know about it and you are privileged to be one of them (the success of the Primrose Bakery cookbook suggests otherwise, but a girl can dream).

Entering the bakery, the dream continues. Your senses are overwhelmed by the smell of cupcakes baking. Real, traditional, home made cupcakes, the very same smell that lingered in your kitchen when you made cupcakes as a child, an olfactory time machine transporting you back to a sprinkle topped, icing drenched childhood. I've been to more than my fair share of cupcake bakeries, and written about many of them, but I never realised until now, none of them have THAT smell, a smell that you can relate to, and that people all over the world will instantly identify as fairy cakes or cupcakes being baked. Sure, other bakeries smell of cooking, but more industrial cooking. Be it by accident or design, this made the experience even more personal for me.

I went for a chocolate topped vanilla cake, the same flavour that I had opted for a few days before at the Hummingbird Bakery in Kensington. En-route to work, I opted for the take away option and was delighted when my order was put in this cute box:

The joy thickened a few hours later, when, after a long shift at work I got on the train and opened the box, the smell of chocolate escaping instantly, to discover the cake nestled in a doily.

Unfortunately this picture does not do it justice, but the sprinkles were ever so brightly coloured, similar to those I remember on Dunkin Donuts in the States when I was little.  As anticipated by the smell, the cake had a certain home made flavour to it, although the icing did have the American donut frosting taste.

In terms of flavour and service, this is the closest I have come to filling the gap in my heart left by Sooty's when I moved back down South a couple of months ago. Contrary to other bakeries, they both feel unique and homely, a secret you have stumbled across and don't want to share. I only hope my bank balance can take the hit it's about to receive due to my daily proximity to such sugary delights.

Hummingbird Bakery, Kensington.

Around a year ago, I visited the newly opened Hummingbird Bakery in Spitalfields, and found it to be a bit of a disappointment. Maybe I visited on a bad day, but as a self-confessed cupcake connoisseur and all-round sugar head, I was left disappointed by my pilgrimage to one of the most famous cupcake bakeries going.

Recently, then, I jumped at the chance to visit the older and wiser sister, the longer established South Kensington branch of Hummingbird Bakery, and I'm pleased to say that this wonderful brand wiggled it's way back into my good estimations.

The premises of this branch seem smaller than the Spitalfields branch, and late on a Saturday afternoon, we managed to grab the last available seats. The cozy and limited seating arrangements give it an air of exclusivity, particularly when coupled with the desirable postcode in which the bakery resides, and the constant flow of customers creates a more lively atmosphere than that which I experienced at the Spitalfields branch.  The recognisable pink and brown branding confirms that this is the infamous bakery synonymous with the cookbooks I always eye up in WHSmiths but which somehow never make it onto my Christmas list. Maybe this year.

Not the best photo- the lighting was quite dim, and the dark wall colours didn't help. It was beautifully decorated though, with cupcakes images lining the walls and the brown and pink theme adhered to throughout.

I opted for a chocolate cupcake with vanilla icing for £2.30 and my friend went for the biscuit bar (a rocky road type concoction). The cake was delicious, the icing creamy, smooth and moist with a good flavour, and the sprinkles made the perfect texture.

The whole experience was a massive improvement on the Spitalfields experience and I think I may have been to hasty to judge this brand. Had I visited the Spitafields branch on a weekend, perhaps the atmosphere may have been more lively. I guess my only option is to visit the Soho, Notting Hill and Islington branches to get a full brand experience. Perhaps even a return visit to Spitalfields now that it's been open for a while longer to see if it's improved. *Sigh*. It's a tough life but someone's got to do it.

Unfortunately, so excited was I at the prospect of my next stop (Harrods) that I forgot to take a photo of the   bakery. But it's pretty hard to miss. Just follow your nose.

A bitter-sweet disappointment: Candy Kittens

As well as the Olympics, London played host to another supposedly big event this summer - the much anticipated (in certain circles) opening of Candy Kittens.

Conceptualized by Jamie Laing, star of reality TV show Made in Chelsea, viewers of the show have had the chance to watch the development of the business from conceptualization to the all important auditioning process for the Candy Kittens themselves. Yet it is still not clear what this business IS exactly...and a visit later, it's still hard to tell.

Jamie's original idea seemed to be a sweet shop run by scantily clad models  (hey, it's in Chelsea so that makes it classy...right?). However, following Jamie on Twitter and seeing that he was personally making milkshakes and smoothies for customers one weekend suggested that it was more of a cafe than a shop. More on that later.


The first problem was actually finding the place. Situated on the rather glamorous Kings Road (where else?), the website fails to give an address*, however this crystal clear map gives a very precise location on the corner of Flood Street and Kings Road.

If you are planning a visit, DO NOT TRUST THE MAP, MY FRIEND, for it is all lies.

Taken from Candy Kittens website

If you  follow this map, you will find yourself in front of Anthropologie, a lovely shop, but not a whiff of the promised sugar in sight.

This map, adapted from Google, shows the real position of the store, approx. 400m away from where it should have been.

Real position.

LIES.

It is even on the opposite side of the road from where they said it would be. It's as if they don't want customers. Perhaps making you work for it is a marketing technique to sift out all the riff-raff so that only those who are really worthy of it are allowed to experience the, er, disappointment. Maybe it's a Chelsea thing.

Either way, a disappointment it was. Having gone for an ice cream whilst we figured out our next plan of action, googled Candy Kittens and found another blog giving the real address (336 Kings Rd) we set off on a long walk from our current position outside 58 Kings Rd.

And what a journey it was, not least because we casually WALKED PAST HUGO AND NATALIE FROM MADE IN CHELSEA. If you don't watch MIC, you won't care about this. But then again, if you don't watch MIC, you probably stopped reading a long time ago, because really, this is just a blog about another posh kid setting up a sweet store with mummy and daddy's money, more of a hobby than a business, really.

So yes, Hugo and Natalie. Casually strolling down Kings Rd at 3.30 on a Saturday afternoon. He was on his phone (I'd really like to think it was Spencer on the other end), casually announcing that they'd only just got out of bed. This after I'd been up since 4.45am to get to work that day. How the other half live.  He was really tall and she was really small. They went into Habitat. We considered following them but I've already spent too much of my life following celebrities around Habitat (Antony Cotton, on the off chance you're reading this, I was one of the three 14-year old girls who followed you around Habitat in Tunbridge Wells about 7 years ago. Habitat is no longer there, but my bus ticket which you signed the back of is still stuck firmly in my autograph book alongside the likes of, er, Mickey Mouse and Pocahontas.)

So having done some real life sleb-spotting (I think we played it quite cool), we finally reached Candy Kittens (at the "wrong end" of Kings Road, apparently), and were disappointingly underwhelmed. 

Walking into a very small shop, the smoothie/milkshake bar is in front of you. However, half of the flavours (about 8 in total) were sold out on the day we went.  They also sell cupcakes, but further disappointment came when I overheard one of the staff telling another customer that they were ordered in from an outside company. The only other thing upstairs was a small table with largely overpriced Candy Kittens merchandise- notebooks, Iphone cases etc.

Following the sign downstairs to "Jamie's bedroom", the walls of the staircase are lined with photos of Jamie's childhood - school sports team pictures etc. Downstairs, another small room consisted of a bed (on which sat what I guess was one of the "kittens" but who actually looked more like a rabbit trapped in headlights.) On greeting us, we were informed that all of the items of clothing which were folded in piles a la Abercrombie and Fitch were also available to view in the wardrobe, so we didn't have to rummage. Rough translation: do not mess up the clothes! They mainly consisted of £20 t-shirts with Candy Kittens logos or phrases from the show. I quite liked the "Yea Boi!" one, but I barely have £20 to my name at the moment, so that was that.

We left, despondent and disappointed.

So that was it. No "sweets everywhere (literally covering every surface)" as promised in Tatler magazine's review of the opening. Further confusion abounds. Candy Kittens has largely been branded in the media as a "pop-up store" suggesting that it is open for a limited time only. Some sites state that it was only meant to be open for 3 weeks from 2nd August, yet it was 1st September when we visited. There is no mention of temporality on the official website, only that "The sweets are currently in the production phase at Candy Kittens HQ and will be with us this summer!" 

Furthermore, the official Kings Road website describes the shop window was "a feast for your eyes, deliciously styled with hanging sweet jars filled with tasty treats. The shop floor even has a milkshake bar with velvet seating, decorated with lanterns and lolly-pop shaped trees to create a fun, summer time garden feel." This was certainly not the case when we went, suggesting that we had missed the "Candy" part of Candy Kittens entirely, although I have read elsewhere that it will be reopening for Halloween. Whether the shop will be closing between now and then is a mystery that nobody seems to have the answers to.

 So overall, a very confusing and disappointing visit. I would be intrigued to go back if the promised sweets materialise, as the idea has the potential to be something quite exciting. As it was, we were forced (yes, forced) to take a trip to the Hummingbird Bakery to cheer ourselves up and get our anticipated sugar fix. 

*The website also fails to give opening hours, unless you look really closely on one of the blog posts, and the phone number they give may be a false one as I repeatedly got "This call cannot be connected at this time". When I emailed, the opening hours they gave me were: Mon - Sat: 10-7, Sun: 11 - 5. You're welcome.

The Harptree Court Treehouse - yes please!!

My current internship has led to me researching unusual dwellings for an upcoming magazine feature. As someone who is fascinated by this sort of thing, it was quite an interesting brief, but it became even more exciting when I started stumbling across unusual hotels. Being a bit of a sucker for a good hotel - mostly dreaming about visiting rather than actually doing so at the moment - and also being a bit of a romantic at heart, my imagination was captured when I stumbled across this treehouse hotel in Bristol. I thought such things were relegated to the over-active imaginations of 12-year old boys in Enid Blyton novels, so was thrilled to find that such a place exists, and even more to learn that it is in England (typical British weather not withstanding!)

Described as a "boutique cottage in the trees" by one guest, it is a private en-suite hotel room located, quite literally, in the trees. Sounds like heaven, and certainly somewhere I'd love to visit given the chance!

A rusty jewel in the American breakfast crown

My culinary exploration of American breakfast options took a turn into the unknown this week, as I cracked open a pot of Apple Jacks. This is one American cereal that I never tried on family holidays (back in me yoof, like). The idea of a combination of cinnamon and apple flavours is just about acceptable in a pastry, a cheeky danish in the afternoon perhaps, but I was expecting the combination of flavours to be too overpowering for a breakfast cereal.

When I opened the pot, the shape of the cereal resemble the culinary Deity that is Froot Loops, however the colours were disappointingly underwhelming. It may seem obscure to pre-emptively judge a breakfast cereal based on the brightness of colour, but I've come to learn that when we're talking American cereals, brighter colours=more e-number = happier Lau.

Happily, when milk was added, the colours appeared brighter, although still nowhere near the Froot Loops spectrum. The flavours however, were very bland, proving my fears of overpowering flavour to be unfounded, and resembling a lightly perfumed cardboard, as opposed to the slightly more mature sibling in the Froot Loops family that I had been expecting.

It is my conclusion then, that Apple Jacks are the rusty jewel in the otherwise shiny crown of American breakfasts.

Too much of a good thing?

My fascination with American imported food has taken off recently, mostly due to the increase of shops selling these products. Naturally, London has a plethora of these shops, my favourite of which is the Cyber Candy chain. On a recent trip to London, I visited the Camden chain and made a few purchases. The next day, on a trip to Brighton, I stumbled across another of these shops, Hardy's,  and bought a few more bits and bobs to keep my sugar levels up and my nostalgic fibres happy.

A few days later, a trip to Tunbridge Wells revealed at least three shops within the town centre where you can get hold of Lucky Charms, Froot Loops and other American goodies (if you're willing to pay the price). Whilst the trips to the shops in London and Brighton excited me, the number of American food retailers in Tunbridge Wells saddened me.

It took me a while to suss out why this made me sad,  until I realised that it was several fold. What was once a rarity  - the joy of finding my favourite, mainly unobtainable foods - is now occurring in every town. Not only does this mean that the novelty is wearing off, but it also means that they are becoming accessible to more people. Perhaps it's selfish, but I remember, with a bizarre sense of nostalgia, the days when you could talk about Lucky Charms in the UK, and very few people would know what they are, mainly only people who had visited the USA themselves. Somehow having everyone discussing these foods makes them less special, and as they are some of the fondest culinary memories of my childhood, I resent this.

Experimental cooking: chicken and mushroom stroganoff

When I cook, I don't tend to follow recipes too closely. Baking, I follow the recipe to the letter - there is too much potential for things to go wrong otherwise- but cooking tends to be largely experimental.

So when I was left in charge of dinner and I  told my mum we were having [imagine the voice of Jean from Eastenders] "Sausage surprise ....the surprise being that there are no sausages", she looked a tad worried, but left me to it nonetheless.

 My plan was to attempt a chicken and mushroom stroganoff. I tried a creamy beef stroganoff once before, and although the flavour came out well the beef was too tough.

I began by cutting two chicken breasts into thin strips and frying them in oil on a low heat. A few minutes later I added sliced closed cup white mushrooms (a generous amount to allow for fry shrinkage), and began to add in double cream and white wine (approx. 2:1 ratio) and stirred. It's best to add a little liquid at a time and replenish slowly as it evaporates, rather than adding it all at once. I added a couple of teaspoonfuls of gravy granules- it sounds bizarre, but it's an old trick to add both flavour and colour- and a pinch of ground black pepper. I left this simmering on a medium heat for around 15 minutes, stirring near constantly to avoid the cream and wine separating, and meanwhile set the basmati rice on to cook. Finally I added some sweetcorn to the stroganoff and left it to simmer for a further couple of minutes before serving.

The final outcome was disappointingly bland. I realise that the sweetcorn was a strange choice, but whilst cooking it I felt that it needed a little extra something than just the mushrooms and chicken. Onions were considered, but the texture of onions combined with the texture of mushrooms is enough to set even the best pearly whites on edge. I also thought about peppers, but thought that would subtract from the creamy taste/texture I was going for and venture further into fruity territory. However, even with the addition of the sweetcorn, the final product needed salt and pepper to add some ooomph (ooomph, I've come to realise, is an essential ingredient to any meal). Perhaps using a different variety of mushroom such as a chestnut mushroom would have given a stronger undertaste. Even so, a herb of some sort would not have gone amiss. Lesson learned for next time!

JB's Diner, Brighton

Wandering aimlessly on a lazy day in Brighton with a friend recently, we had agreed to stick to our usual mantra of cheap and cheerful, reducing our food options down to two choices; Wetherspoons or Pizza Express (we had vouchers!).

Then wandering down a backstreet towards the seafront, we stumbled across a place called JBs. Initially thinking it was a typical seaside chip shop, we then realised it was an American Diner, and were both inexplicably drawn to it. Having a quick glance at the menu outside, the prices seemed reasonable, and we agreed that it was an option. Fast forward a couple of hours, and a few fairground rides and a couple of air hockey matches later, I was still thinking about the burgers on the menu, so we headed back to JBs, not too sure what to expect.

At around 5pm on a dull Tuesday afternoon, only about four tables were occupied, so we were seated and served immediately. The drinks menu, normally the easiest decision for someone as indecisive as me, provided the first hurdle; Dr Pepper as on the menu - one of my favourite drinks, but not usually available in restaurants. But then I saw one of the most exciting things I have ever seen listed on a menu- a Lucky Charms milkshake! I was seriously tempted, but at £5 a pop, it took some serious consideration, to the extent that I had to ask the waitress to return a few minutes later to take our drinks order. In the end, I decided against the idea of the Lucky Charms milkshake, purely based on the price (my heart was saying yes, but my head was telling me I could get almost a whole meal for that in Wetherspoons!).This is a regret that I will live with until my dying day, or at least until the next time I am in Brighton with money in my pocket.

Onto the food, and despite my thoughts of the burger which had drawn me back there, I went for the scampi, and my friend went for the Blues Brothers burger. The food arrived within about 15 minutes, although the episodes of Tom and Jerry being shown on the TVs made time go a lot faster, simultaneous reverting us to our childhoods and, in our exhausted states, causing us to laugh way more than two 20-somethings should have done at a children's cartoon. I wonder if today's children will still be laughing at Spongebob Squarepants when they're in their twenties?

I digress. The food arrived, and we were thoroughly impressed. The portion sizes were very generous (it felt like the fries were multiplying as I was eating them, in a relentless cycle). The side salad, with dressing, was delicious, and far more effort had gone into it than the usual limp lettuce leaves that are half-heartedly placed on the plate.

Stopping halfway through our epically sized meals, waiting for second wind to strike, gave us a chance to fully take in our surroundings. Decorated like a stereotypical American diner, t-shirts from films such as Back to the Future and Ghostbusters hung from the ceiling, whilst the walls were adorned with the usual film star posters, and car number plates and American road signs.  I was particularly enjoying the electronic Coca Cola sign with a countdown to the millennium clock, until I realised that although this felt like very recent history to me, the turn of the millennium had taken place before the children at the next table had even been born. In a quick act of emotional self preservation, my eyes reverted back to the episodes of Tom and Jerry still being shown on the TV screens, allowing me to go back to the innocence of childhood.

Although the food was delicious, the large portion sizes meant that we both left some food on the plates. At this point I was glad that I had not gone for the milkshake, which no doubt would have been even more filling. Although I was upset a not getting a chance to try the Key West Key Lime Pie (something which I have always wanted to try but never got round to), the food I had was more than adequate to sedate me.

The bill came to around £20 for the two meals and two drinks, an absolute bargain considering the quality and quantity of the food, and cementing my intention to return here next time I visit Brighton.

On the way out we noticed that there was a small retail kiosk selling other American memorabilia, however fears for our hastily dwindling finances prevented us from looking too closely.

Owing to my food induced comatose state, I forgot to take a photo when leaving the restaurant, but if you're even vaguely familiar with Brighton, it's pretty easy to find, situated on the seafront about halfway between the pier and the cinema. Alternatively, set your Lucky Charm radar to "milkshake" and you'll find it within seconds.

Party people: Nelly Shoes at Whisky Mist

The well-heeled fashionistas of London dusted off their party shoes last night, and despite the weather turned out in style to celebrate the launch of Nelly shoes in the UK.

The event was the culmination of a nationwide tour which saw Nelly shoes taking in the cobbled streets of Bristol, the seaside party town of Brighton and the spires of Oxford, among others.

The location was Whisky Mist, one of Mayfair's more indulgent hotspots, where the social elite come to wile away their time and part with their hard earned bucks. On this occasion though, it was less about the booze, all about the shoes.

Many were excited to see this highly coveted Swedish brand finally land in the UK, others were lured there by the promise of free shoes. Walking down the steps and into the venue, the cabinets of shoes on display told us we were in the right place; set up strategically ensuring a fine balance between luring us in far enough to want the shoes, but not handing them over then and there, leaving us wanting more.

 The result was a combination of excited shoe lovers, working themselves into a frenzy over which pair to opt for, and the calmer, more calculated attendees, who treated the choice of shoe so seriously, an onlooker could be forgiven for thinking the life of their first born child lay on the line. These were serious shoe addicts.

Attendees were also given well-received fashion goody bags, and a rather delicious strawberry cocktail, which served to get the social cogs turning and the conversation flowing, resulting in a successful event all round.

Welcome to the UK, Nelly. We're happy to have you.

Images courtesy of Felicity Main (@felicitymain)

My Yankophilia* continues....

If you've had a meander through my blog, you may have noticed that I am a fan of American food imports. This is not something I was aware of myself, save a penchant for Lucky Charms, until I started blogging. I became inspired by other blogs, such as the wonderful Gobble Monkey which has kept me entertanined for hours on end. It started with cereals, which, admittedly, the Americans do well (provided you don't mind sugar rot in your teeth come lunchtime.) Then, I rather impulsively tried the highly coveted Pop Tart resulting in disappointment and curiosity. More recently, I forayed further into the world of American confectionery, in the form of Hershey's Kisses. What a mistake to make.

As far as I can recall, I have never tried Hershey's chocolate before, but I've heard that it's not the nicest chocolate in the world. So when  I saw these in Selfridges in Manchester, I couldn't resist trying them to see whether the rumours are true.

They are.

The first disappointment was opening the pack to find a rather stingy six "kisses" at the bottom. Going on to eat them, things didn't improve- the chocolate was very sweet and sickly, similar to the cheaper brands of chocolate you get here in the UK. Suddenly I was understanding why there were only six sweets in the pack - anymore and you would have been sick. They lacked that moreishness that all true chocoholics can identify in a decently made piece of chocolate. For possibly the first time ever, I was eating chocolate and thinking "No more, no more".

I did, however, enjoy the texture of the cookie pieces embedded within the chocolate. I think I'll stick to Galaxy Cookie Crumble next time though.

Having reached the bottom of the packet, I was left mystified by one thing; why are they called "Kisses". They are not the shape of a kiss, nor the texture, nor the taste. Answers on a postcard please.

The Americans may do a fabulous job at cereals and hamburgers, but they should certainly leave chocolate to their European counterparts.

*Apologies if this term offends any Americans. Blame this.