The Sugar Bar

I haven’t stepped out of the house much other than for groceries, heading to the library or for work. There hasn’t been much venturing towards coffee shops and I have missed that coffee shop atmosphere, the scent of beans brewing, the bustling back and forth by waiters from tables to bar and for neat freaks like you and I, the sight of assorted cakes, cookies, breads all perfectly laid out on trays or stands behind glass covers. I’m a coffee shop girl through and through; and I like bringing work or reading with me to a coffee shop because the atmosphere always gets my motivation going. I’m not going to deny the romance of a smooth black cuppa, and the flaneur-esque peaks I take out of the window whilst sat at a table all to myself. I’m always at such peace in a coffee shop, pensive and sometimes a little relieved (maybe because of the temporary escape from city-paced walking out on the streets). Time seems to slow down to the beats of dripping filtered coffee, ticking away within its own coffee shop universe that is as uncomplicated as a scone, jam and clotted cream. I heart it, and surely many others of you do.

But hanging out in London coffee shops sometimes is much too much effort. The cost of travelling to one (the Starbucks here in Old Street ain’t that bad but it’s just a little too squishy for my liking and hasn’t anyone realized that Starbucks coffees aren’t that impressive) is not great for a poor student like me, walking to the amazing quirky little ones which stock Monmouth coffees out in Shoreditch is just too distracting sometimes, especially when your table-neighbours are wearing lame silver leggings, have streaks of bright green in their hair and this is all some time before midday. And then there’s the cost of sitting in the coffee shop. It’s not the coffee that’s expensive. It’s the other stuff that I can’t resist ordering. I can’t nurse a lone coffee. I’m just not that type of girl. I’d need a cookie, or a pannetonne, or a fruit tart, or a scone, or even lunch and the whole shebang. I’d be broke by the end of the month if I kept up my coffee shop habits like I normally do back home or during my undergrad days (when I got free coffees through a friend).

Things changed this week though. I handed in one essay 4 days early and I thought this sort of behaviour just had to be rewarded! So I visited Le Pain Quotidien in Goodge Street for a little sit down with my library books. No food photos I’m afraid but I was thoroughly impressed with the atmosphere and the communal dining table. I didn’t order much except an iced black coffee (which came extremely milky because the dude with dreadlocks who took my order was ditzy to the core), a flourless oh-I’m-in-love-type of brownie (which was expensive for the size of it but worth ever penny because it was seriously good) and an Americano after. The coffee was really good and I loved that it came in little bowls – true Frenchness gets my thumbs up.

And then today, I nearly lost my job. It’s a real long story but let’s just say the good news is that I didn’t lose it in the end. And I’ll have to thank my Mama’s fighting spirit that I’ve inherited for that. Well after the whole meeting, my brain was all a little fuzzy and my stomach – which had not stopped growling all through this serious meeting – was about to throw in the towel. Hence, my 2nd coffee shop trip/treat of the week was well justified. Again, I had no camera on hand. But from the outside, the stylish brown Princi sign was like light at the end of a dark tunnel. Stepping through the glass doors into this underworld of glorious breads, the sound of excited chatter, the smell of flour and cheese, the clinking of wine glasses, the spitting and hissing of opening cans of soft drink – it was truly my safe haven. And the interiors don’t get any more chic than Princi’s.

I ordered a slice of woodfired margherita pizza and an Americano (which wasn’t as impressive as Le Pain’s I’m afraid), had a great big chat with the mates at work on my Blackberry whilst this beautiful man next to me flipped through a Tom Ford folder. The lady on my right was reading the paper. The sound of the pages turning was quite comforting and reminded me of my Dad who reads the paper every morning religiously. Although there are quite a few tables and communal ones about, I was attracted to the bar at the back. I love bar stools so naturally I zoned in on that area quick as anything. The zen water feature of running taps in front of the bar tables was very nice too. See what I mean about the safe haven?

I’m loving this place so much I can’t wait to visit again. On my next visits to Princi and Le Pain Quotidien, expect more pictures! Til then, check out what I took home with me: Tiramisu and Olive Bread. You so have to love Princi for making their cakes in neat little rectangles!

Princi
135 Wardour Street
London
W1F 0UT
Tel.: 020 7478 8888
Opening hours: Mon-Sat 7.00-00.00 Sun 9.00-22.00

The one most important thing which foodbloggers do best is giving/sharing food. Sometimes the effort put into that is enormous, requiring days of preparation or a massive journey, and sometimes it only takes the smallest bit of time. But even that shouldn’t be discounted because of the amount of thought that went into it. Either way, to see the recipient break into a big grin is the best reward and the happiest moment we can wish for. And an occasion without food is simply the end of the world for us, now isn’t it? Doesn’t food just make the occasion completely?

A fellow friend of mine, much loved and adored, is about to leave to travel the world in a couple of weeks. The next two weeks ahead are slightly busier than usual due to a research proposal deadline, of which I have very little confidence in successfully producing one I’m satisfied with due to the lack of preparation. Been too caught up with other things and my two presentations this week. Because a send-off at the airport just isn’t feasible and a farewell meet-up closer to her fly-off date wasn’t wise when the aforementioned deadline contributes a lot to my Masters degree and looms scarily close, I copied A’s move to train it up to Shrewsbury for the weekend with S. Felt wrong to go empty-handed, especially when I wouldn’t be seeing her for about half a year so I made some lemon curd-filled chocolates the day before and made a trip out to LOLA’s before uni on Thursday afternoon for some mini cupcakes. Sad to say, even though I’d gotten only the small ones, they got a little banged up on the train to and fro uni and home. The ‘epic’ cross-country journey up didn’t do them any good either. Buttercream bruises aside though, it seemed the taste and moistness wasn’t at all affected. Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me. Unless the folks were lying. Jokes.

On a cupcake note, I was surprised to find this month’s new flavour to be Pink Champagne: Pink Champagne-laced cupcake and buttercream frosting topped with a ball of coconut-covered white chocolate champagne truffle. LOLA’s always surprises me with simple, exquisite flavours. They’re never over-the-top and I quite like that they pull it off with quality ingredients and not whacky over-indulged combinations. I really enjoyed every bit of my pimped out Valentine’s Day cupcakes from Hummingbird but this pastel pink and lightly silver glittered cupcakes were a nice change and easier on the eye, I must admit. Also, it gave me a few more ideas for my contribution to Meeta’s Monthly Mingle. The ingredient for that is champagne and the deadline is 16 March. If the proposal goes well, I should be able to submit a post for that fingers crossed!

Although it was only a short stay that I had, we managed to pack in quite a bit. A lovely dinner with cocktails at a British restaurant Mad Jack’s, English pancakes (I had mine with golden syrup and bacon) the next morning with two lovely cuppas made by the bestie, and a good ol’ roadtrip with Mama S. behind the steering wheel in Shropshire. Oh and did I mention that getting away from the concrete jungle meant I finally could see some greenery? That helped majorly with my grey withdrawals I think. And my fav cat no.2 (no. 1 reserved for bestie’s black persian Mortimer) Jasper did bring quite a bit of sunshine and furballs into my life. Gave him a big kiss on the neck and felt a purr vibrate up through my lips (which resulted in quite a bit of fur stuck on the lips and down the throat). He might’ve taken part in some cupcake eating as well. What a cutie.

All sugared up and ready to face the world, we wrapped up as warm as we could (I forget it’s always freezing up north), bundled away into Mama S’s snazzy black car and zipped back in time – into the Victorian town of Blists Hill. I like period dramas. I like anything historical. So this was so much fun! A, a geographer by degree, was thrilled! Stepping back into a Victorian village, visiting the old pub (bestie got serenaded to), peering through the glass into the grocer’s, chatting to the nice lady in the local draper’s, teasing the piggies by the pork pie shop, discovering the clever magic of the candlemaker in his dark workshop, etc. There was so much to learn and see – it was both entertaining and educational. We sound like geeks now don’t we? I suppose we are! But it was such good fun. And yes, the people who work or volunteer at Blists Hill are in full costume and character! It’s so brilliant!

The local drapers and the bakery were my two favourite, not surprisingly. The blacksmith’s was pretty cool too. Although I’m not going to share with you my giant haul of photographs because that may simply bore you, check out the rustic homeliness of the local bakery. With 2 ovens the size of single beds, this bakery could churn out enough cakes, breads and biscuits to feed the whole town! The candlemaker makes 1000 animal fat candles (which are a lot brighter and wind-resistant than our usual parafin ones) in 90mins. The level of subsistence of the town to self-provide was amazing. When we visited the bakery, there wasn’t much left on the shelves but the pretty baker was busy cutting up some sort of cake or flapjack. We stood eagerly by the door hoping to be the first ones to buy those warm treats but to no avail. She ignored us. Gah, so gutted!

We waited and waited. But she didn’t get those cakes out. So we settled for what was already on the shelves. As if we would have been disappointed anyway!

Cinnamon-perfumed Fruit cob for S.

Light and crunchy Ginger biscuit for moi

Despite the grey, the wet and the freezing cold, we had such a great time. I honestly had a really good back-to-the-past experience in Blists Hill and it made me forget about the depressing drudgery of the big smoke. Felt a little Jane Austen-y as well. That always helps with a bit of literary inspiration I hope which is much needed at the moment. And because it’s about time I continue working on tonight’s presentation, I must love you and leave you.

Watch out for the next post on some yum country pub grub.

If you kept up with my Twitter updates, you may be familiar with the moments in which I was cordoning off the kitchen with police tape to protect my ripening bananas. Keeping them off-limits to the family is rather a struggle, especially when the family is quite fond of bananas, you literally have to fight and throw them off the fruit bowl. Although I was much tempted to hire samurais to guard the bloody bananas, I did not. And neither did I resort to leaving 3M sticky notes to declare my ownership of them. In the past, my sisters used to justify taking my stuff with this excuse: “I didn’t see your name on it. So it’s not yours.”; I honestly feared for my life that the bananas would become communal fruit and did consider scribbling my name in capitals on the outer skins with a thick fat black marker pen. The hilarity of it! Well, I resisted that urge as well and thankfully, on the decided day, there were 3 chubby over-ripe bananas ready to be mashed for my utmost pleasure. After nearly 22 years, I suppose the family now understand that when it comes to food, baking and cooking, I mean business and you honestly, do not want to mess with me.

Funnily enough, I’m not big on bananas. I’d eat them in cake but on its own, it’s always a begrudging affair. I have a similar problem with cooked salmon. I’d die for sashimi but poached, panfried salmon blah blah is just mediocre for me. I’d eat it cause I know it was good for me, not that I was particularly in the mood for it. So anyhow, I wanted to make a banana bread I could have for tea. And I knew it would be a great choice for a teacake since it is and will always be my mum’s favourite cake. Somehow I just couldn’t let these fabulously ripened bananas go down the traditional banana bread route. I could feel this itch to jazz it up with something diva-ish. And yes, what more could we desire for than a wicked splash of booze? I’ve got to thank Nigella for this beauty of a recipe. Initially, I wasn’t too sure about raisins in banana bread. It just seemed a little bit of an extraneous ingredient but now that I’ve tasted it, I’d say this would be one of the better banana bread recipes I’ve tried and will stick to in the future. Don’t panic, this isn’t an Adults-Only recipe as you cook away the alcohol, which adds a great bang of flavour in my opinion. Welcome to the dark side, there’s no turning back now.

The original recipe uses 100g sultanas, and chopped walnuts. I didn’t have any of the latter ingredient lying around and I wanted my banana bread to be nut-free but feel free to stick to the original recipe if you like. Because I’m still on my summer holiday before term begins late September to October, I’m pretty much doing jackshit every day. My daily existence involves lazying about watching cooking shows on Discovery Travel & Living, reading Murakami, re-decorating my bedroom, preparing lunch and dinner, etc. Really mundane things and yet, I’m quite enjoying this life and feel a little bit like I’ve walked straight out of some sort of Southern film: sitting on the front porch in an old rocking chair with a cold one and my happy chappy dog watching the sun rise and set. It’s awesome. Except I’m on the patio out in my garden by the koi pond; sitting in one of those foldable fishing chairs with a double shot Pimm’s & lemonade, a slice of boozed-up banana bread, surrounded by my family of dogs hovering eagerly around me for banana bread scraps. Not quite the same, but awesome just as well.

Think I’m lazy? I might agree. But I’m thinking since the love life took a bad turn, I deserve to treat myself and be awfully, disgustingly lackadaisical for a little while. Waking up to Chris Moyles on BBC 1 Radio and listening to the deejays chat about jalapeños and jalapeñises, participating in a ping-pong game of banter with my Northern scally friend on Facebook chat, lazying about on my bedroom floor on comfy cushions with a bottle of water, cold can of coke, magazines and books within easy reach is the life! That’s the life for now at least until I find this mundane, laid-back, sedentary existence boring, to which I’ll later find the drive to sort my life out and get with it.

Until then, I expect to be a real lazy Epicurean, whatever. Hopefully, that involves more cake posts on The Sugar Bar!

Bourbon Banana Bread
(adapted from Nigella’s Banana Bread in How to be a Domestic Goddess)
Ingredients

60g sultanas
75ml bourbon or dark rum
175g plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/2 tsp salt
125g unsalted butter, melted
150g golden caster sugar
2 large free range eggs
3 medium very ripe bananas (about 300g weighed without skin), roughly mashed
1 tsp vanilla

Place the sultanas and bourbon in a small, heavy-based saucepan and bring to the boil. Remove from heat, cover and leave for an hour if you can, or until the sultanas have absorbed most of the liquid, then drain.

Preheat the oven 170d Celsius. Grease and flour a loaf tin.

Place flour, baking powder, bicarb and salt in a bowl. I did not sift the flour but simply gave the mixture a good whisk by hand.
In another bowl, mix the melted butter and caster sugar, beating until blended with a wooden spoon. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then the mashed bananas. Stir in the drained sultanas and vanilla. You may add extra nuts like walnuts or pecans if you like.

Add the flour mixture a third at a time, stirring well after each addition. Pour into loaf tin and bake for 1 – 1 1/4 hr. Mine was perfection at 1hr so you might want to start watching it slightly before it hits 60mins. Remove from oven and test with a toothpick inserted down the middle of the loaf. It should come out clean.

Leave in the tin on a wire rack to cool but remember to serve this warm, with a nice cuppa tea!