The Sugar Bar

Picture from The Malthouse

Last weekend, I was in Shrewsbury visiting a friend and by the end of my visit, it had me purring like a cat (I’ll get to why I was purring later). When it comes to visiting friends I’ve not seen for a while or going countryside, there’s only two words on my mind. And that is: pub food. Somehow my brain immediately identifies the country with - not just the calming and beautiful landscape - pub grub. It doesn’t help that I probably think about food more than sex or shoes or clothes in the day. My whole nom nom obsession is simply exacerbated.

On the Saturday, we visited the first iron made structure ever constructed - the Ironbridge. The weather wasn’t too bad in the day but by the time we’d got there after a thorough walkabout through the Victorian town Blists Hill, the sky was just miserable. It was grey, it was freezing cold, the winds were so strong it was a real challenge to walk in a straight line and the rain was all pissy and furry - the type that was so thin and fine it soaked right through to your bones I bet. You couldn’t escape this sort of rain or you could die trying, really. Thankfully we had a bit of relief from the rain when we stopped at this lovely, comforting pub for lunch. It was one that appeared most welcoming to us (also because our car was parked very conveniently in their driveway) and called The Malthouse, beckoning us with these luscious, seductive interiors.

If you’ve seen the first picture, you’ve probably already gotten a general idea of what this was like and why I say it provided us our much sought-after escape from the outside icky weather. Think lush interiors, like really lush, bordering on decadent. Velvety surroundings and a boudoir-ish ambience, Victorian style furniture with animal print or flocked upholstery and lots of red candles and carpeting. Sounds tacky and a bit cheap? On a sunny day when I’m happy, dry and well-fed I might think just that. When I’m a sodding drowned rat, shoulders aching from hunching against the wind and ankles so cold they’d literally failed the rest of my body and stiffened into ice blocks, I think this was like coming home to a warm hearth and a plate of hot food after a long trek in the woods. The Malthouse was seriously like the light at the end of the tunnel for us. And I was nearly moved to tears when they sat us down at our table, all friendly and smiley and attentive to their windswept customers who’d arrived before the dinner crowd.

Like a cat, perfectly comfy in her skin, and luxuriously stretching its limbs, I did a nice big stretch after chucking aside my wet brolly and removing my coat still icy from the wind. Then, I took another look around and I think my face just lit up and glowed from being warm and dry and sat down. I was utterly comforted by the fact that we were about to be fed. And I simply couldn’t help being appreciative of the quirky bits in this pub house like, the day’s menu written on long panels of chalkboard, pictures of hearts framed and stuck on the walls and oh, this bit I thought was so cool - black chandeliers with opaque black beads dangling very sexily from the bulbs. I know I know…that’s not to everyone taste and it’s so flashy contemporary it kind of hurts your eyeballs. But I could have just thrown myself into the interiors, sinking into it like a waterbed with a sort of post-erh-hum satisfaction, so sue me.

Smoked Salmon Baguette

If I’ve made you quite jealous of our experience, then I’ve been quite successful. If I haven’t, don’t worry I won’t try again. Instead, I’ll change my tactic and move on to Plan B. The food.

Chicken & Onion Rings Stacked Burger & Chips

S’s mum had a nice smoked salmon baguette and the rest of us ordered some hot food - dramatic pause here - some hot proper pub food. It was real nice to see the menu being separated out into starters, pub food, mains, soups, salads, desserts (I think that was how it was for the last 3). What I’m trying to stress is the separate category the humble pub fare was given and that really brought a smile to us. I think we all privately reminisced the cheap student pub food from our undergrad years (which ended only just last year) and anyway, I think everyone has a special place in their heart and stomach for the simple yet very much loved pub grub. We’ve all had good pub food, and bad pub food. Even if at that point of time it was a real torture to swallow that plate of pure grease and cheap butter, I can only say that general entity known as ‘pub food’ is always quite fondly thought of. Of course there wasn’t much to worry about here because the food was excellent!

Bangers and Mash

My food was the last to arrive. Although the last, it was definitely not the least by miles! The picture of it might explain why. It was huge! The portion of chips was generous and the battered fish about the length of my forearm. My lunch partners were a little worried and all ready to ask for doggy bag to take home the leftovers.

Fish and Chips

I think my reaction to that was a big ‘errr…there’s no need’. I ate it all. It didn’t defeat me.

Am I disgusting or just a real trooper with a bottomless pit for a stomach? The fish was fab and so fresh. And thankfully it wasn’t just all made up of batter. The chips were nicely seasoned and real yum with a good bite to it. I quite dislike mushy peas. I think the look of it and the texture just puts me off completely so I never ask for it. If it’s on my plate, I push it away as far from my chips and fish as possible (and I really ain’t that kind of fussy eater. Just mushy peas, paté and black pudding I can’t stand). I don’t know if it was the red candle induced happiness or boudoir ambience that had gone to my head, I ate mushy peas.

Yes I really did. And I liked it. I normally don’t. But this one was good. And it had whole peas in it too. Maybe that’s what made it worked. I didn’t have it all, thank goodness. But I had some. And that’s progress. The Malthouse was a real success and I take the mushy peas as proof of that.

Even though the rain had let up and we were getting sleepy from being so well-fed, we were sad to leave and drive away from Ironbridge. Good times though. Great weekend.

The Malthouse
The Wharfage
Ironbridge
Shropshire
TF8 7NH
Bar-Lounge-Rooms-Live Music
Tel.: 01952 433712

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.

My room’s being consumed by a tsunami of clutter. How has it happened again? The rate at which things accumulate (along with the dust bunnies) astounds me and I can never see or understand how that happens. What, do these things just appear whilst I sleep?! Who dreams ‘em up and then just chucks it in my room, on top of my bed, next to my make-up counter which serves as a study desk when the need arises. Where did all these computer/phone wires come from? Crap, was my wardrobe always that stuffed, threatening to spill out in waves and eat up the room completely? Or shall we just go back to square one and blame it on the room being the size of a miniature igloo (or worse). The collage I created through food photographs, magazine pages, a map of my uni campus, random shots from Gradball 09, a Vivienne Westwood postcard from a friend and some A/W 09 catwalk shots - beautiful and quite breathtakingly so since it’s the backdrop of my work desk - seeks to increase the confusion and ‘noise’ of the room. You can say my collection of things is a real eclectic mix - something I’ve always hoped to achieve in any room I live in and out of. Boudoir-ish, roccoco elements, bits of random vintage jewellery hanging about, interesting Indian fabrics draped from one corner to the other whilst candles melted into twisted monstrous shapes and sizes dot the room. I think this year I’ve quite achieved that with a purple/navy theme going on, quite different from my room last year in Birmingham which was full of Venetian masks and greens and blacks. Sometimes I just sit back, nod approvingly and give myself a pat on the back for managing to make my room almost homey and as eccentricly artsy as the area I live in. On bad days, I feel like burning it down.

On lazy days, I just hide under the covers and wish away all that clutter. Of course it never happens. And ranting about it doesn’t help either. The fact that I try to blitz my room almost twice a week makes me think I’m quite the independent and fairly neat 22-year old. The fact that the kitchen is so small and almost always cluttered with food and splashes of grease gives me a bit of headache. But blame it on London being too expensive to live in!

A change of perspective helps sort me out though. A bit of sunshine, which we had loads today (THREE CHEERS FOR THE FLIPPIN’ SUN!), also injects a bit of optimism into anything. If London’s that great, why the heck am I sitting in my room complaining about the clutter when I should be out there soaking up some good ol’ sun and exploring the fantastic eats in this gorgeous city?

And so I did. After a strong coffee. And some furious bbm-ing (if you don’t already know, Blackberry speak for our version of phone messaging) with Su-yin. A Lantana breakfast was so the right way to celebrate TGIF and wind down to our weekend. Su-yin totally deserved it after all her night shifts and although I haven’t done much to deserve it, I did score a 1st class for one of the essays I handed in after Christmas. So that’s probably something to be happy about. Anyway here’s what we ate. Delicious beyond delicious. And glad we didn’t even have to queue!

Corn fritters stacked with crispy bacon, avocado and roast tomato salsa, rocket and lime aioli

Bubble and squeak with fried egg, chorizo, rocket, tomato chutney and buttered sourdough

Happiness is breakfast.

Full up and very pleased with our meal and service, we strolled to Heal’s for a quick gander about the kitchenware and a gift for my dear sister. Couldn’t have had a better start to my Friday morning.

Lantana Cafe
13 Charlotte Place
London
W1T 1SN
http://www.lantanacafe.co.uk