[Event - Fair] Glutton for Punishment? Certain as Thai; Amazing Thailand Festival at Secrett's of Milford

Location - Secretts Garden Centre of Milford, Surrey [UK]

Little more than two weeks after the dessert-based destruction of physique I had submitted myself to following a Thai Festival, here I am again perhaps in an all too familiar case of Deja vu', retrospects' delinquent relative. At a Thai Festival. Having experienced back then seemingly an entire chapter of the oceanic expanse that is Thai Cuisine's repertoire, I ventured forth onto this potential coronary event with considerably less culinary obfuscation. Or rather, less complete ignorance. As well as approaching with another motive. I must now, expand. Not physically [well, not of my choosing at least], but figuratively, expanding what I had experienced then. I would also learn, to use the freezer for impulse purchases to avoid the glucose onslaught of the previous occasion. One small step for man and all.
So I departed, soon after having my mid-morning salad in a vain attempt to at least imbue my digestive system with a modicum of fibre to facilitate the expulsion of the calorific blockade of Thai delicacies that would soon start flooding in. I affronted this latest of events with particular optimism, assuming that in being based within the grounds of a garden centre that space, and thus choice, would be limited. As will shortly be evident, that was a rather foolish presumption to make. The fair, was essentially a Food Fair. With a mere couple of diverging stalls. Much in complete about-face to the previous one. My streak of relentless succumbing to temptation was going to be severely tested.

The procession blocking my path to gastronomic annihilation. The rudeness.

Miscellaneous prettily arrayed foods

A literal endless road of food stalls. This wreaked havoc on my notions of restraint.

Walking across the central pathway, I was rather suddenly daunted by just how many food stalls there were. The more I walked, the more they appeared, seemingly never ending. Even looking away from the pathway, food stalls crept into view just about anywhere the eye cared to rest. This was not good. Yet again, my hopeless attempt at restraint consisting of camera in hand in the providing of some respite of food catapulting into the bin receptacle of a mouth lasted only three pictures before I came across a temptation that rendered any attempts at establishing my ludicrously inept willpower, effete.

• Khanom Buang [ขนมเบื้อง] - Sweet Crepes with Meringue & Assorted Filling

I came across these, and as simply as that, all notions of persisting until "lunch" were immediately vanquished. What solace I tried grabbing was in their minute size, and once sampling them [rather promptly], I had to get the hell out of there. They were delicious - delightfully petite and as thin as paper, yet whilst initially being crunchy gave way to a soft and chewy centre with the filling. The taste was peculiar, sweet but not overly so and I have no recollection of what the toppings were. Before I skedaddled though, I thought it opportune to purchase a little box of Sticky-rice based Khanoms. There is no need to explain the actions of the purchasing of sticky rice. It is a requisite.

The next purchased item was a bit of a dubious one at this point in time.

• Gluay Kaek [กล้วยแขก] - Sweet Banana Fritters

Just got here and straight for dessert? Hath I no shame?! I don't, just copious building reserves of flat that should make me ashamed, but no. These were for later. Despite the deviously high glycaemic load of bananas. There is no sense in gorging, but at least I gorge smartly! Sense the clear delusion. Quickly getting the hell away from that stall before temptation dealt me a cardiac event, I was yet again stopped in my footsteps, this time by a particular morsel that instantly spoke to me. 

• Khanom Krok [ขนมครก] - Coconut Rice Mini-pancake Dumplings

Coconut. DONE. Everything else included in the description was inconsequential. These mini-pancakes were being churned out freshly, and despite still being an hour or so early before I would duly be "hungry", I caved in yet again. Particular restraint was required not to devour the vendors' arm either. Immediately after sampling them, I was overcome with bliss - a delicate cup of coconut pancake was filled with an absolutely decadent and rich coconut cream. Being just made, it was extremely fresh and natural tasting. The highlight came with the variety of toppings, from corn, to..I forget. They added that salty, earthy note that, which I've mentioned a plethora of times before and shall do so again, instantly adds a dose of epic. Just as quickly as they had appeared into my life, they had also been vanquished. At this rate I may as well have just considered an "Italian Lunch", lasting for the rest of the day. Off again to inevitably more temptations. I had not even drawn any money out at this point, subsisting on the coinage from the cars' coin tray collection.

Moseying on I thus attempted to achieve what I had originally sought to do and scout, with out putting something in my mouth, the remaining food stalls in order to form some form of structured plan for my eventual lunch. At this point it was all semantics as I had blown that notion a couple of food inhalations ago, but I figured the thought would count. A lot of the stalls offered the same dishes, with few offering notable variances, figuring that consuming industrial amounts of the identical dishes would be a wasted effort. Achievable, but certainly wasted. I soon came across some familiar sights, including the abominable bane of my waistline that was the Rumwong Stall from the last festival whose Khanom Wans I destroyed. I rather speedily sidestepped away this trap. Whereupon I came across another familiarity. This was essentially the same stall and set-up of that I first encountered at Danson Park. With epic Sticky-rice Lady at the front again. Who promptly recognised me and issued me with the ubiquitous handful of epicrice. She also had new stocks on her table. Drats.

They were also Takoh, one of my favourite of the desserts I sampled last time. This time made by Sticky-rice Lady. And she had two variations. Damnations. Last of the coins handed over, this time the meals being reserved later, get the hell out of there. Not before I was recognised by another of the ladies, who promptly issued me a handful of Barbequed pork. Argh! My gluttony, it has benefits but its also haunting me! Yet again I promptly had to plan an escape before consuming humans, finishing the round of that same stall of the previous fair, fulfilling my inquisitional deliberations of my quest for Durian by sampling a taster of Durian Ice-cream [rather nice] and making a mental note of destroying some later, I crested my way towards the back of The Stall Road directing towards the last of the observed food stalls. Meandering towards a tent, with a sign denoting of "Healthy" foods, much in that at this point any notion of healthy eating were largely facetious, I figured no further harm can be done. Lunch was just an ideal at this point, of what could have been had I had a backbone. Immediately displayed were an assortment of weird, wonderful, and not that mysterious fruit, ranging from rambutans, to guava, mangosteen and dragonfruit. Alas, I had run out of my taxi fare collection. 

The fruit was free. YAY/BOO! It's all fibre anyway, I'll be fine. Encouraged by the chirpy attendant girl, first off I sampled was the rambutan, which rather astonishingly when looking and feeling like lychee, also tasted like lychee. Unlike lychee however, the seed was soft, and I promptly made a mess and consumed half of it. The guava was uninteresting, tasting like a bland, sour apple, then I came to the mangosteen. Which became my newest object of desire. What a peculiarly composed fruit, and what a deliciously different flavour. Fruit in general are lovely, and refreshing, imparting a sweetness which is enjoyable rather than lusty-worthy. As much as I love mangoes and the like however, this was incredible. Deeply sweet with hints of honey and awesome and more unbelievable things, it was unlike anything I had ever tasted. I immediately fell in love. Yet, some had to be left for the other thousands of visitors so I promptly left, vowing to purchase some from one of the stalls - not before sampling some dragonfruit which tasted as per the one I purchased a month earlier, of water. Ironically, most of these fruit are a common site in Saudi Arabia, only now have I been enlightened to their awesomeness. So essentially, 25 years wasted. All I say to that is, at least its not 26 years, or more. HAH. Optimism. It's delusional. 

Deciding that the last final stalls behind the Road of Dieters' Worst Nightmare were not worth much, I made a final recognition tour through the pathway, largely to give an overview of what I should try when I had money in hand, so as to not fund their children's college funds with overindulgent spending. That did not last long, for after drawing the money I was confronted with a quaint little ice-cream stand, away from all the Thai based festivities, nothing of interest I thought to myself.

No idea why I bought it. Actually, I do. I was guilted. Guilted by the vendor with Alopecia and his slightly camp ways. Groan. It was nice though, the bits of ginger especially so, it is however, very much beyond the point.

Awash with incredulous hate of my ineffective power of will, I gingerly [infused by the ice-cream, obviously] made my way back to the gates of the fair. With its myriad of bustling, devious, delicious calorie traps. Firstly requiring a drink to quench my...well, not thirst, as I think its now academic to claim that I consume by need, I headed towards the first of my restraint downfall enabling stalls for something that had caught my eye. 

• Lod Chong [ลอดช่อง] - Jackfruit & Pandanus Noodles in Coconut Milk

Essentially the same as the drink I had tried at the last fair, this one however included Jackfruit - enough variation to warrant sampling, if any excuse were needed. This was unfortunately rather mediocre, tasting oddly of barbecue lighter fuel blocks more than anything, which was perhaps slightly ironic as some Health & Safety minions were interrogating the stall when I was ordering. Which distracted the per son serving me from including any of the pandanus noodles. The predominance of ice cubes also robbing away much inclusion of any coconut milk, in stark reminder of University bar serving mannerisms of drinks. Yet I would return back to them later on.

After my gasoline infused beverage however, I was still left particularly parched, so I descended upon an area of previous interest, that had escaped my former round of scouring by dint of my squandering of my coinage. Not content with buying normal, mundane, drinks, I chose what sounded the most enticing/least likely to induce diabetic epilepsy.

• Nam Grajiab [น้ำกระเจี๊ยบ] - Roselle Tea

Served in a small plastic bag with a straw inside, I was rather intrigued, and also slightly perplexed at the practicality of this serving method, instantly giving up all thought of taking its picture, settling for just the container. Drinking away, I found it rather quite ok; refreshing, and not overtly sweet. It had a slight tannic [really, from TEA?!!], almost hibiscus-like quality to it. A quick search on Wikipedia would also verify that Rosella/Roselle is a genus of the hibiscus family. And now I know. Quite a subtly pleasing drink, and only noticing now that it really did quench the thirst. Apparently it rejuvenates body and mind. Both lost causes in my case.

This latest of purchases thus signalled my official, though largely meaningless at this point, pursuing of lunch. Which promptly began with this.

•  Sai Krok Naem [ไส้กรอกแหนม] - Slightly-fermented Thai Sausage

Beginning with the "starters", I initiated with these Isaarn Sausages, which I believe to be slightly fermented, a notion enforced by the vendors noting that they are "slightly sour". And they were. Other than that, there was nothing particularly outstanding about them. They certainly will not ward off vampires like the sausage from the last fair. A case in point evidenced later in the day, when there was a group of happy, black leather clad individuals that did not vaporise as I walked past them. Regardless, they were inoffensive enough, and so I progressed along the line of stalls.

Before I lost further focus, I progressed further to appease this initial stage of this abominable feast, struggling for choice and attempting to restrict ultimate volume somewhat. Not helped by the fact that several stalls had decided to group their starters in an appeal to cause a chain of gastrointestinal explosions no doubt. Being denied with this fact of breaded crab claws, I came across this following morsel.

• Tao Hou Tod Sod Sai Moo [] - Deep-fried Bean Curd stuffed with Minced Pork

Generally in the past I had avoided any form of tofu, passing it off as hippy food [well, rightfully so] and essentially tasteless and not worthy of my consumption. Obviously a rather well informed and open-minded individual at that point, not basing opinions on the treacherously bland and inane variants of tofu included in cheap Asian food. Never. However, in a quest to de-ignorant myself, I have lately broadened on this notion, starting with a delectable Tofu dish at Tombo at the Sake Tasting of Destiny. And this. It was deep-fried. Therefore, viable. In saying that though, beyond adding crunch the tofu itself did not add much to the pork filling, but it was pleasant nevertheless, in essence being similar to a spring roll, but crunchier and without the slight doughy taste of the pastry. Which is a shame, as I heart doughs and pastries. I loathe the starch though. 

Leaving the stall behind, I ventured out for perhaps another starter or two, before I create an intestinal blockage for the main course. 

I then came across this vendor, ready to devour some shrimp. Then I decided that I had already finished my starters after consuming the metric tonnage seen above and walked on.

• Tao Hou Tod [] - Deep-fried Tofu

That notion did not last terribly wrong, happening upon the ebullient barbecue pork lady. I figured it would be rude to not at least ingratiate her recognition with another purchase, so I went with something different. Moar tofu. Whilst ordering, I also noticed that she gave me an extra tofu block, though for the price, almost rightly so [/end ingratitude]. Pleased, and into the mouth. Where again, a nice crunchiness gave way to a nicely springy texture of. Not much. Perhaps a little earthiness, but inherently little else. Not to say it was devoid of any notion of interest, it is strange, it is a pleasure to eat more through its texture and obviously by dint of being deep fried, rather than of any spectacular notion of taste. Or even a hint of one. With that swiftly devoured, exclusive of the bamboo skewer - I have a modicum of standards - I figured now was as good as time as any to proceed to the main course. 

Not just a good time, a necessity. Or I would find other excuse to keep adding to my "starters". Ending with giving birth to a food monstrosity in the coming week. Which is where the issues came in. In comparison to the fair at Danson Park, this was far grander in scale, and quite contrarily to what I thought would be the case, offered much less choice. Almost all the stalls offered the usual ubiquitous curries, sides and rice dishes. Not a single place offered anything much distinct, no viscera soup anywhere! Though in saying that, one stall did have a variety of "meat" soups which seemed to contain parts rather than meat, though the vendor was being rather coy and shy and denying me of hunger gratification. Perhaps with the larger scale, the need to be more mainstream rather dullened the spirit of authenticity and adventure in the cookery. Despite this, the uttering of how particular dishes looked and smelled was noticeable, only serving to uphold the general narrow mindedness of the country. I am a fan n'est pas ^_^.

In the end my choice fell down to two - one stall offering a Catfish & Bamboo Shoot curry, as I had never tried catfish, and there was no mention of a traffic light curry listing, and another stall offering a yellow curry and thus falling back into choosing from the traffic light curry listing. The slight pessimism in that connotation should pave the way to my ultimate choice. 

• Gaeng Som Plah [แกงส้มปลา] - Sour Yellow Fish (Catfish) Curry with Bamboo Shoots

[The Upper One]

Ruing the decision to go with rice immediately, in all its evil high GL glory, I took a moment to savour the aroma. It was. Interesting. Rather potent. Fragrant. Evocative of a fish market. Lovely. And attacking a spoonful of the bamboo shoot, I at once experienced, a facial implosion. It must be said that I had no idea that this was actually known to be a Sour Curry when choosing it. Holy Carp if that is a perfectly literal description. It was Deputy of sour. Almost caustic. Yet, almost additively so. Not sure what it is about sourness that just stokes my taste buds - perhaps this curry should be done with bitter melon, it could then be used as a weapon, or an industrial acid. Moving onto the fish, I was less impressed however, being filled with bones - yes, littlest violin playing to my quip - and providing some of that previously mentioned aroma to the palate. It was not atrocious, but as a whole the curry was perhaps rather less enjoyable than the divinity coconut-based curries. Though, I suppose it is another curry experienced and now noted. I have to seek what other variants exist, as I literally have not a clue of the variations, other than one [possibly yellow] being maybe peanut based. Hmm. 

Figuring I had been enough of a glutton thus far, and restricting myself to the one main course, it was obviously, time for a dessert. Or twelve. For now trying to keep the Rumwong stall out of mind. Not helped by the boxes of Khanom Wans left out on display, several of them new to the hoard I had previously purchased. Heathens. Not before however, I washed down the meals of Christmas Eatings just passed. So I returned once again to the stall that started it all. That initiated the incessant fire of greed in my belly. And who now were tied for a win and a lose from the prior two visits. 

• Chao Kuai [เฉาก๊วย] - Grass Jelly Drink

Seemingly a pervasive sweet treat in a lot of South East Asia, grass jelly is something that has always perplexed me. In being made of grass, why is it not green? Why does literal breakdown of its name not figure? It does not compute, and when savouring the grass jelly "bubbles" from the Bobacha a few weeks ago, I did not note grass. Just a hint of something, "fresh". Maintenant, my curiosity was peaked, and I figured I should just go ahead and actually purchase everything this stall had to offer. It was a small stall, honest! Surprisingly, or maybe not, it seems the memory of my gluttony persists for weeks as evidenced by some of the vendors, the stall recognised me and promptly issued me the drink for free. Again. Gluttony. Merits. Word. Again, the drink was made of ice, and slurping away, I was met largely with what I met with the Bobacha pearls. Albeit sweeter. And in liquid form. I have a knack for this stating of the obvious. Which is to say it did not pose any surprises, and once the glacier's worth of ice was disposed of, the jelly noodles provided a touch of entertainment. "Thirst" quenched, focus redirected to shedding a limb or two through diabetreats! 

Again, ignoring the existence of the Rumwong stall of Khanom Win for now, no stall was actually offering up sweet treats, barring the couple. So it would make sense to test their wares and get into a seizure. The first stall I approached offered up two options, which were duly ordered. 

• Khanom Krok [ขนมครก] - Coconut Rice Mini-pancake Dumplings

Yes, more of those delightful coconut-infused pancakes. I had reason this time round. These ones were green. Ordered amidst a litany of giggles at my foreigner-ravaged pronunciation [I never understand why pronunciation can be cause of such hysteria, I just find it tenuous. I'm not pride-hurt.], and denying the offending vendor of inclusion in the picture, I quickly devoured just the one whilst my second dessert was being readied. This one was slightly different in composition, being more of a pancake to the other ones' little pastry cup. As such it was immediately fuller in form, with a rather enticing prevalence of onion, creating a rather interesting melange of flavours. It was also more of an omelette type pancake, providing more substance and just being a different delight to the one sampled before. Thus, devouring, justified. Only the one however, I had already consumed five of the other. 

Following round to the side of the stall, I was then introduced to the second of my objects of desire. 

• Roti [โรตี] - Southern Thai Flat Bread (with Taro filling)

Roti. I.e. flatbread. I've reached the zenith of adventurism. In a quest to administer some authenticity I also opted for the taro filling, which came in a rather delightful shade of lilac. Whilst not certainly being a complex dessert at all, it certainly was enjoyable. Especially so. It would only be obvious to state that I essentially inhaled this dessert too, struggling to be patient enough to place the plate down for the picture. Whilst not entirely sure if the roti was actually freshly made or reheated from a packet [not particularly caring], it was regardless lovely - just crunchy on the outside, whilst the inside was soft. The taro paste was lightly sweet, and a bit rich, like a sweet potato, which lent itself well to the lightly toasted flavour of the roti. Apparently roti's are quite a popular sight on Thai Streets, with vendors offering up myriad toppings, according to a random lady, perhaps working at the stall. 

Contented with the added sweetness to the growing intestinal blockage I had been creating throughout the day, I braved the prospect of returning to the Rumwong stall. For a purchase. Backbone, do not abandon me now. In saying that though, in the circa 4 dozen times I stalked, stared, and forced myself to walk on from the Rumwong stall, I noticed - gleefully! - that there were few new choices abound in their stock. Which made the drawing up to the stall a much more painless procedure, selecting the three treats that were new and untried as of yet, saying much about the destruction I wrought previously seeing as I could only find such a minimal number not yet experienced treats out of an entire stalls' inventory. With that purchase culminated, and walking past the same gargantuan of Ruam Mit casting its heinous, tempting aura, I emerged, painlessly. Surviving that, I felt confident for another hit of sugary sustenance and went to uphold a former promise, largely of substantiating ongoing waistline expansion construction works.

• Itim Thurien [ไอติมทุเรียน] - Durian Ice-Cream

Despite not being of the fresh variety, I was enamoured enough with the insight given by the previous tasting to give the ice-cream a try. Again, "convincing" is predominantly just for superficial value. I figured as well, should my quest for Durian become a bust, the ice-cream would at least provide a modicum of retribution. More delusions. In tasting, it was quite different. I am rather notoriously useless at articulating hints and nuances of flavours when sampling a drink or food, and this time is no difference. I could say the ice-cream was particularly creamy, and then confirm that water is also indeed wet. I cannot really pinpoint the flavour of the ice-cream, but it was regardless enjoyable. That's not just the sugar talking either. As to how indicative it is of the taste of durian, I do not quite know, as there was no putrid aroma to make me bow to my knees, and it was certainly not home-made, or at least I do not think it was. 

Walking along, enjoying the ice-cream, I walked past the epic Sticky Rice lady once again, this time with no actual intention of purchasing anything [I had already done so], whereupon she dragged me over and handed me yet another enormous handful of sticky rice, insisting to my feeble attempts at refusal - I was just being polite. Just like that, I then had. 

• Khao Neow Ma-Itim Thurien [ข้าวเหนียวมะไอติมทุเรียน] - Durian Ice-Cream with Sticky Rice!

Mo' Sticky Rice. Mo' Better! The facepalmfull of stick rice quite obviously worked in divine harmony with the ice-cream, providing the added texture, slight coconut-nuance, and mixing-in of savoury hints the inevitably led to the concoction in palm meeting my face. Once again, despite being a cardinal sin, on this day, I have evidenced that gluttony, truly has its merits. Just keep me away from any mirrors. 

This brief insight into the growing obsession of durian was not enough though, and I needed the authentic article. I need to sample the most vile smelling of foods, and after having eaten viscera soup, I was more than confident of being able to stomach it. Unfortunately, the only stall selling wholesale fruits sold the durian as a whole. At £12. No thank you. No mangosteens either. I had that much money, but it could be important should I happen across an emergency dessert or other object of desire. As a last resort, I ventured towards the fruit tent of before in a hope that at least they would sell me some mangosteens. However, the fruit was not for sale, it was merely for giving out samples of, despite the towering boxes abound. In recognition of my audacious need to eat, and possibly fearing for her consumption though, the chirpy girl graciously handed me a couple of mangosteens as a gift. Need I mention. Merits. Etc. With that obtained, it was time for one last walk through the parade of broken stomachs, after buying a treat for a friend, before I departed from this most exaggerated of feasts. I did however, have an ulterior agenda. 

Seeing as how this festival was in relatively close proximity of one Rumwong Supermarket, the originator of the stall of destiny/death by dessert, I figured it would downright rude, if not opportune, to seek out perhaps a hidden Khanom Wan or twelve, straight from the source. Hopefully also stumble across some durian. Carpe Diem et al. Duly arriving but a mere 15 minutes later, I walked into the diminutive store, whereupon I instantly questioned the cashier - "Durian, WHERE?!". Tragedy struck when he clamoured that they had none in store, producing only a tube of durian paste as a frankly atrocious alternative. Undeterred however, I walked round the store to investigate for my other motive. There, I happened across a small bar fridge, wherein were stacked a few familiar boxes. Peering closer, slightly salivating, I was let down by the recognition of having already tried those desserts. I don't think I quite apprehend the scale of what I destroyed that first Thai Festival, as it would seem I would struggle to find something I did not consume. 

Questioning the well-spoken youth behind the counter, I came to find out that it was actually his mother than made the desserts. By hand. Each and every one. Specifically for the festivals. Instantly, admiration flew through. She basically subsisted my greed for two festivals in a row and created a beast of obsession. In between words I also noticed a few boxes in the refrigerator of that odd looking familiar yellow flesh - I did not need to creak open the box and faint to recognise that I was in the presence of durian. I will have to unleash some durian breath onto the cashier for attempting to sell me toothpaste. Professing my love/disdain for the individuals' mother, I confessed my burgeoning loving long-time of the shop, and its creation of a new stalker in me, before skipping away happily with my piece of stinkfruit. I will. Be back. I finally returned home, to bask now in the temptations of what I had brought back with me. 

~ Those which made it back ~

Moderate restraint - now with added fruit

• Mangkhud [มังคุด] - Mangosteen

Immediately enamoured when I sampled them at the fair, ecstatic when I got a couple to savour back at home. Perfect timing for my afternoon fruit snack as well. Deliciously sweet, slightly floral, all awesome. 

• Gluay Kaek [กล้วยแขก] - Sweet Banana Fritters

Despite being composed of banana, strangely enough, and thus being of high Glycaemic Load and all things evil and questionable manhood, I still figured it should be something that needed trying, considering especially its ubiquity. Not expecting much, seeing as beyond being a battered and fried piece of banana, there was not much else to it, I was pleasantly surprised. And disgusted as a result. Despite being a few hours away from purchase, they remained gloriously crisp, giving way to a sweet and soft banana filling [yes, the obvious, I state it] which was generously aromatic. Then the highlight - the little sesame seeds embedded into the batter combined their smoky, toasted flavouring to the whole ensemble, creating a delightful aroma. The sesame seeds seemingly lifted this beyond the merely nice, to the outright pleasant. The sesame seeds made this fritter disgustingly addictive.

Even several days after purchase now, they still remain crunchy. And hard to resist. My ruination, it is quite obvious. 

• Khanom Krok [ขนมครก] - Coconut Rice Mini-pancake Dumplings

Nothing much more to add, other than them tasting just as delicious when cold and slightly aged. Perhaps maturing into a fine aged krok ^_^.

• Khao Neow Ping Sai Puak [] - Steamed Taro-filled Sticky Rice Parcel in Banana Leaf

Not yet sampled, tentatively waiting in lieu of devouring in the freezer, though I'm fairly aware of what to expect. Sticky rice, therefore, awesome. Not a hasty judgement at all, just a premonition. 

• Thurien [ทุเรียน] - Durian

*Gasp*. True story about the peculiarity of the smell of Durian. It smells dead. Which to an extent, it is. It also looks rather unborn. This was all expected however and undeterred, I sectioned off some of the oddly creamy flesh. This creaminess quite strangely continues on into the taste, with a peculiarly milky sensation. Unfortunately some of the "delightful" aroma carries on as you eat, the fruit right at the tail-end but not to a degree that makes you gag and faint. It is extremely rich, ever so slightly almost sickeningly so, no doubt bolstered by that fierce perfume, but in as well, almost decadent. Pinpointing a familiarity was difficult, perhaps a slight hint of mango in the tail flavours, but everything else is unique, in the creaminess and downright heavy richness.

Prospects much improved a couple of days later when most of the vicious smell had subsided, including the resultant aroma. This fruit is begging to be tried in fresher examples, and perhaps with sticky rice and coconut milk, to at once, add epic to the already creamy and rich fruit. 

• Khao Niew Tua Dam [] - Black Soya Bean in Sweetened Coconut Milk with Glutinous Rice

Another of the new detainees from the Rumwinong stall, a not overtly elaborate dessert but certainly a very hearty one. Seeing as how it had leaked everywhere, the only sampling I got thus far was in the "clean-up", licking up the overspills. It. Was. Delectable. No more has to be said about sticky rice than what is already known, but the sweetened coconut milk this time steeped with black soya beans had gathered an altogether earthy, bean-quality, which made it a rather comforting sort of dessert. I am saving this one for a breakfast, as with all the carbohydrates and the added protein of the soya beans, it can only surmount as an epic morning meal. 

• Khanom Chun? [] - Pandanus & Coconut Jelly

Not entirely sure what this dessert is, and in not trying it, have no judgement - likely exclusively appraising - on its nature. I believe the vendor girl mentioned that it is not made of rice flour like with khanom chun, and thus not as sticky, thereby leading me to think it could be a jelly variant. Nevertheless, its devouring is nigh. 

• Khao Niew Sangkaya [ข้าวเหนียวสังขยา] - Sticky Rice with Custard Topping (plus two others with shrimp and onion toppings respectively)

One of my first purchases of the day, from the stall that would see me purchasing one of each of their entire inventory, and no doubt influenced by the epic variant of which I tried from the last fair, these cute little morsels had the added benefit of variance. More choice, more better. Trying all three however I was left perhaps somewhat disappointed. Maybe they were just too petite to impart too much of an indulgent lashing of flavour. Or perhaps they were just lacking, but not much was experienced from any. A slight sweetness of the rice met a rather bland custard in the sangkaya version, a slight onion hint with the black rice version, and not much in the yellow rice version topped with the shrimp. I will reserve verdict till I try them again, perhaps my tongue being overwhelmed by the gorging of other delectables at the time, but these were on the whole rather disappointingly unmoving. Meh.

• Takoh [ตะโก้] - Coconut Cream Jelly (with Water Chestnut & Taro fillings respectively)

Epic Sticky Rice-Lady provideth again. This time she provided dessert. She over-provided. Not even dropping them and making a mess, and thus allowing scope for a sly pre-taste, could deter the treats from being absolutely spectacular. Much the same as the versions I tried from the Danson Fair from the Rumwong stall, these were a divine amalgamation of indulgently creamy coconut custard, giving way to a sweet, scented jelly. However, the differences came in the toppings. Whereas the previous versions included a few sporadic kernels of sweetcorn, these contained water chestnuts, and taro. Whilst the ultimate nature was not significantly altered, they did imbue their own character. The water chestnut takohs delivered that rather curious crunch from the water chestnut, with its slight bamboo shoot like taste/texture giving way to the same awesome of the takoh. Similar the taro-filled version replaced the crunch, with the chewiness of the taro, with its light starchy earthiness making for a sublime treat. Currently eating these one at a time with breakfast, it is as much as I can do to refrain from devouring them whole. 

~~~~

So concludes yet another fair. Yet another enlightening experience. Yet another excessive indulgence. And for all its grander scale and content, this fair was perhaps a slight disappointment in regards to the eye-widening experience of a couple of weeks ago. Obviously you would not tell by the sheer volume consumed in my voracious scouring as depicted above, but I felt that as a broadening of the exploration of Thailand's cuisine, this event was perhaps more lacking. In its scale, it also seemed to cater more to the scale of the clientele - it was seemingly aimed at mainstream tastes and notions of what is known of Thailand's food. And as such, not much was found beyond the ubiquitous, the well known, and the generic. Granted, it was not exclusive as such, but for the sheer size of the event, I found there to be much less variance than the much smaller event at Danson Park. Surprisingly, this made obvious by the son of the epic-dessert lady of Rumwong, who clamoured when I questioned if any special or different treats were available, that they typically don't venture too far from the "normal" desserts, by dint of the customers not knowing what they are. And naturally, predominantly not trying - not everyone is as driven or greedy as I.

Perhaps this is a mixed blessing, as I know with the lack of restraint shown today, I certainly would have created an explosion large enough to create a gravitational void and a resultant black hole in my wake, had I been provided with variety. And whilst I did further some insight into the culinary scene of Thailand, albeit from the tenuous notions of aimless eating, and as an outsider, away from the country of origin, I still leave amidst a pang of disappointment. It is not all lost though. Au contraire. This just fuels my need to continue exploring, to continue venturing. To keep experiencing the multinational delights available. And whilst my waistline has suffered greatly at the hands of these fairs - and more directly, at my complete lack of restraint therein - it was also rather evident, that these greed, came with its merits, or fans as it were. I now require an extended absence of leave from these food fairs, disastrous as they are to enabling my lack of forceful restraint. Well. After tomorrow's Caribbean Carnival..

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[Restaurant - Modern Indian] Aacha!; Cinnamon Club of Westminster

Location - Westminster, London [UK]

Influences. Objects, occurrences, people, vegetable, minerals, pamplemousse, all with the ability to move and create intent in an individual. Seemingly lately also, my downfall, as the merest whiff of an influence is enough to get me convinced/concede on impositions of any type. I am obviously proud of my willflower. Yet again this time, I was drawn in by the mellifluously-type sweet nothings on a menu, and some rather enticing, beautifully taken, almost edible pictures posted of the eatery's creations from bloggers. Damn them and their knowledge of my weakness. With the crux of this latest display of backbone desertion stipulated, the feeble justifications shall follow.

I had been meaning to dine at the Cinnamon Club for a while, but most recently, and perhaps the ultimate culprit for the eventual dinner, was a recent "Specials" Menu. The restaurant seems to do a monthly theme, and the sheer innovation and "the hell is that?!" 'ness of their "Mango Madness" menu really did much to waken the beast of incessant needs. My stomach really approved. However, trying to fit this restaurant in to our schedule of exploration, when there are such a myriad of choices to get our greeds over relegated it to an upcoming date. Then I witnessed the latest of special menus. It had to be consumed. The more deliberation that transpired, the more I needed to sample Cinnamon Clubs' offerings. DONE. It is happening. What was on the menu? Bah, of little importance, it is to be. And on the day I had envisioned this taking place, I was deserted by my eating partner on the tail of next day flight plans. This would not stop me, and he was duly replaced.

Another motivation, if any were required, was that I have further never sampled a decent, nay, above substandard Indian eatery in the UK, ever, having made do with the abominations known as take-outs or Pub-fare atrocities, obviously not by choice. This being frankly an insult to my 1/8th Indian heritage. I was however slightly troubled by the notion of "Haute" Indian cuisine, as the bold, loud flavours inherent in such would seem contradictory to the refinement and delicacy of a modern, haute setting. I also very much require my food to be significantly spiced, particularly of the Indian variety, a factor I feared haute cuisine may dull for the sake of decorum of the eater, as I would not think a face engulfed by flames is very becoming. I like hot food. This decision as well was not taken lightly, as I was aware it would take place after a long day of shopping, gorging at the shopping location, and trudging through the perpetual wretched bane of my existence that is the M25. Forgetting for a moment the financial strain of the aforementioned. Though in saying that, a day of financial excess may as well be ended with more financial strain. MOAR!

With this in mind, the plan was set. Afternoon Tea in Oxford concluded, arrived in London in good timing amidst uncharacteristically benevolent traffic. Parking of my car a good distance away to allow for a 40 minute skipping to my loo to further my blissful naive notion of dousing the calorific annihilation of the day/forthcoming, and it was time to feast.

~ Starter ~
- Amuse Bouche

First to arrive at the table, we started off with this amuse bouche - it was not amusing, but really rather quaint. As per usual I did not pay much attention to what was described, though not by dint of being sabotaged by a ruthless aperitif, I think it had some combination of potato. Something else may have been included. Biting in and. Still quaint. Essentially a croquette of sorts, which even the blind amongst you can quite obviously ascertain, I am not sure what it contained other than there were a variety of textures, but it melded well with the mellow cream sauce. The sauce itself had a light hint of fenugreek. Not much else to recount. Enough of the teasing, I need food.

- Seafood Soup with Melon & Rice Wine

Awaiting something extravagant, the first of the courses were presented to us. It certainly did not leave too much to the imagination, essentially comprising of 4 or so visible ingredients, with the broth being poured in separately, much to the impressing of my friend. Sampling the ingredients separately bolstered that staid image. The soup was rather meek, quiet in flavour, strength or much else, providing if anything though just a savoury note. Likewise was to be found in the morsels of the seafood, having been simply boiled and rather amazingly, tasting as such. Hmph. 

The melon on its own, rather enigmatically also tasted of melon, though warm in this example. Combining everything together though rather improved the forecast of this turbid outlook. The savoury and slightly salty note from the soup itself blended well with the sweetness of the melon, which itself brought out some flavour out of the seafood. It made for a compelling mixture of flavours, but ultimately was rather light-hearted and not particularly distinct. Not that I was expecting to be romanced by the inclusion of "rice wine" in the heading, hoping to be swayed off my feet by my Prince in shining Sake. I realise that rather puts my sexuality in question. Sake seems to have that effect of surreal movement on me. The soup however lacked any noteworthy or exalting flavours, perhaps suiting best as a pallet cleanser. Except nothing has thus far been consumed to warrant that. NEXT.

- Coriander Cruster King Prawn with Shrimp Stuffed Lychee

Receiving the second of the starters, I was getting a bit preoccupied with the portions. Granted I've been gorging like a black hole of late, and should be contented considering there were yet three more courses. Observing my friends' conscious coma, I was made aware that he was certainly approving. Starting with the shrimp stuffed lychee, or rather, a higher class breaded popper, I was too pleasantly surprised. First off, where does the idea come from stuffing a miniscule lychee fruit?! I would have thought it would be the opposite to be true, not that shrimp have much body to stuff - well, certainly not the ones found here. Again the wonders of sweet and salty combinations reared their head, with the lightly sweet and slightly floral lychee flesh combining with a slightly sweet, creamy shrimp infused savoury sauce, or bisque. It was not explicit in its flavouring, but quite lovely and delicate, despite being a popper. 

Moving straight on to the King Prawn, I was immediately put into the context of my friends' "o-face". This, was rather quite splendid. The most obviously spiced of the dishes yet. Quite obviously also tasting of coriander. A lovely combination of spices with the perfectly cooked prawn also worked well with the sweet and slightly tart sauce underneath, which allowed the spice to accentuate the sweetness. There were many facets to the combination of flavours, and being so copiously spiced made every bite rather enticing, compared to the monotone soup previously. The salad was also nice. 

~ Main Course ~
- Baked Skate Wing with Onion "Sambal", Green Apple & Lentil Sauce

The next dish arrived in a peculiar plate that seemed like an upturned sombrero, providing much more plate than food. This was a dish that was a bit different and a bit of a shame - seemingly verging off into diverse fish species to give respite to the endangered ones being "Fish 'n' Chip'd" to death, it would seem skate is a burgeoning species of the plate, or at least to me. The shame in being that they generally don't do anything when I see them in the Red Sea [well, stingrays, same thing], occasionally teasing and annoying them when I'm bored. Anyway, it is now food, so it was too slow. Not knowing what to expect, I started with the "sambal", which, obviously blissfully ignorant, looked to just be some finely cubed carrots, cucumbers and other assorted vegetables. So it was, with a rather predominant presence of ginger. Especially so. Exclusively so. 

Progressing onto the rollerskate, I was rather confounded with what I found. An awkward bone structure that looked like a harp, and some oddly textured flesh, which was similar to overcooked fish, in that in was that kind of soft and flaky composition. It tasted rather like fish, a startling discovery I know. Otherwise, there were no real surprises. Combined with the "sambal", it was more of the same, just punctuated by quite a lot of ginger. Copious amounts of ginger. Perpetual ginger. As well as the crunch of the other myriad vegetables, fruit, forest creatures and so on. I did not really take notice of the lentil sauce either; perhaps there was an added earthiness that helped subside the ginger overload of the "sambal" to a minimal extent, but otherwise, it was a background note. 

- Steamed Red Snapper with Black Chickpea & Coconut Relish

All thoughts of being left hungry were soon abolished when this monstrosity landed in front us, immediately posing as the antithesis of the previous dish, its mass having seemingly created a crater in the plate. I was obviously eating my subconscious words from before, and they tasted like fish. This was a rather epic portion of Sea Bream, or Red Snapper, I cannot remember now as the menu said one, and the waiter the other. So again, I attack the different constituents of the dish before plummeting my face into the plate. Whilst coconut is ambrosia and thus lifts anything with its inclusion to divine status automatically, the relish only had a hint of coconut, making it rather light and delicate rather than dear god rich and decadent. A slight earthiness was also imparted by the chickpea, but on the whole it was rather gentle. The fish itself, as much as can be expected from steaming, was rather bland. However, what did stick out was just how clean the fish tasted, which I would believe would indicate the freshness of the fish. It was cooked well, and had a noticeable lack of fish aroma, which lent to a very hearty fish. 

This lent itself well when combined with the relish, with its light influences not overwhelming the fish and vice versa, complimenting each other in splendid unison. However, light, delicate, bland, lack of aromas. These are hardly words to describe a collection of face exploding awesomeness. It was enjoyable for its lack of drama, but also seriously unexciting. For its lack of drama. Super cereal. Though it did throw a surprise. A sneaky bundle of noodles hid underneath the slab of fish! Damn those carbohydrates. I did not need to eat them, no, but..well. No buts. They got eaten. 

~ Dessert ~
- Banana Porridge with Sweet Potato Doughnut

Now dinner begins. It was obviously this dish that drew me to this specific menu in the first place, the mention of a doughnut, made out of sweet potato, sending my incessant desire to devour to rather elevated levels. The banana porridge and anything else was just a distraction. And whilst disappointed in not receiving an inner tube sized example of such with the plate, I was rather delighted at the presentation. Especially of the peculiar yellow strand sprouting from the Banana porridge. It would seem in the usual pretense of creating visual drama in such establishments, that the chefs had gone through the trouble of roasting a banana "vein" just for the sake of creating a centrepiece. I was sold. Gravitating straight towards the Banana Porridge first, I was rather surprised by a lack of. Porridge. It was a rather milky mush with a slight hint of banana, very slight, crunching with what I thought were cashew nuts sprinkled on top. It was very lightly flavoured and did not immediately make sense, so tried the little unmentioned compote being indicated by the slide of banana vein. My usually perpetually talkative friend was actually at loss for words for trying the compote, anything with that power must be something special. It was. I think composed primarily of banana and ginger, it was rather explosive, sending shards of awesome everywhere. Everything the compote was paired with, at once gathered meaning and depth. Combined with the banana porridge, suddenly brought out the banana flavour and spiced the concoction to a delightful extent. 

Much was the same with the sweet potato doughnut - being rather infuriatingly hard to section when being provided with fork and spoon, it was rather pale in isolation. Before I broke down in tears, I tried the compote of destiny with a little section of the doughnut, and immediately it was transformed. Obviously the compote also contained cinnamon as this hint became rather evident when combined with the doughnut, bringing retribution to its initial disappointment. The surprises did not end there though! Beyond the great combination of the Tokaji wine, in particular with the Banana Porridge, the Roasted Banana vein/slide/string was also rather delectable! Another one of those dishes that was greater as a sum of its parts.

- Espresso & Petit Fours
Rather surprisingly, the espresso also came with its selection of Petit Fours, which included the smallest and most darling [yeah that's right, DARLING] little Macaron ever, no bigger than a marble. Which was consumed by my friend. The heathen. What I did have however was a jellied peach or apricot candy, which was rather enjoyable, with a persistent and natural tasting flavouring, and a likeable soft texture. I also had one of the minute chocolate balls, which was rather deceiving. Despite being almost invisible to the naked eye, in the mouth it soon became a creamy torrent of extravagantly decadent chocolate. It persisted. And persisted some more. Was it a tardis of chocolate?! It was a moment that seemingly did not want to end. I approved. It was wonderful. And tarted up the otherwise clean and uneventful espresso ^_^.

~ Drinks ~
- Disznóko Hegyalja: Tokaji Aszú, 5 Puttonyos [2002]

Ever adding to my extensive repertoire of null, a dessert wine was chosen, naturally to suit the main course of the meal. Not knowing much beyond Sauternes, Moscato and Passito wines however, I left the choice to the waitress, who had selected a Tokaji Aszu wine. Not Essencia, but inching my way closer. Well. I'll need to afford it first, but at least I have an inkling of what to expect. Or perhaps not, considering the extraordinary excess that is Essencia. In comparison, this glass was delightful, but rather light hearted. Slight honey notes, and similar to a Sauternes in many ways, but perhaps with less prominence of fruit, like peach if I can remember. It was rather elegant however, with a clean finish that did not give way to alcoholic haze like in some cheaper wines, but light of body. It combined rather well with the dessert, as suggested by the waitress, and in particular with the banana porridge, being rather light in effect like the porridge and thus supporting its flavour with gentle sweetening rather than pummelling it with its own. 

~~~~

And so drew the end to day of extravagance, excesses, indulgences. Expectations were raised, indulgences were had, money was spent, more money was spent. More money again. And then some more. The dinner at Cinnamon Club serving to top the events with a final indulgence, fulfilling my need to dine here, but also leaving me with some questions unanswered. The dinner, in its presentation, and composition was generally splendid. I do not usually place too much importance on neurotically intricate aesthetic values of food nor the procedures or etiquettes of serving, as they are not quantifiable items that can be eaten and thus satiate me. However, they were pleasing in this case, serving to draw a certain atmosphere. The execution of the dishes were generally well done, but ultimately meek. The flavours were simple, clean, inoffensive, bland, boring, and other perhaps slightly unflattering descriptives, with only a couple offering some aural titillations [teehee]. What  all dishes did provide though were well thought out combinations, with each case working better as a combination of its constituents rather than as the single entities in the plate. Ultimately however, what notion I had of experiencing a new take on Indian Cuisine was only in influence. A hint of a spice, or a method of cooking or a certain combination, drew the mind to a certain connection, but it certainly was not defiantly of the nationality. 

Granted, the menu was an Indo-Malaysian special, myself having neither experienced variation of a theme of the one, and much of anything of the other. Most importantly, generally not having a clue or knowing any better with regards to authenticity, in my bright-eyed newbie state of current. However, what I do recognise is the innovative use of ingredients - the typical combination of sweet and salty being rather epic as always in particular, and just the general scope of the other combinations. This and more, is easily enough to push me for a repeat experience. As a brief reading of the special Diwali event has already spurred me into. So, a pleasurable draw to the theme of the day's excesses, chosen over a free home meal. Well. Had I been allowed to pay naturally. 

No idea why I'm being spoilt so much recently, beyond being the perpetual bum, but I cannot complain. I gladly skipped the 40 minutes to the loo back to my car to burn away those calories in excess.

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Shopping for Taste

Shopping. A necessity for most. An indulgence for many, and an addiction for some. The simple act of purchasing for subsistence or pleasure has many facets in its nature, enterprising and structure. It is also subject to many stereotypes, predominantly of which being that it is inherently a de rigeur undertaking and passion of the fairer sex. I heart shopping.

 Mind though, being of the other sex [questionable at times, I know], I do follow the generally accepted male version of shopping; that is of knowing what is wanted, seeking it, and buying it. No dilly dallying, no incessant, infernal window shopping, no mindless browsing. Just seek, purchase, depart. However, I for one on occasion can be found wanting for decisiveness. Ok, I always am found wanting for decisiveness and as such shopping can occasionally burn away for time. It is this aspect that I appreciate the least [or perhaps the most, were I not so rigidly entrenched in my empty daily routines], and perhaps one of the reasons why I have not indulged in a little purchasing bout in the last. Well. Ever. Beyond online purchasing and the occasional food shopping when required, my expenditures have predominantly been carried out [excluding automotive, which is an inordinate amount] on exercises of the feeding kind. This time would be different. I actually require a shopping journey to fulfil a need for aspects other than those surrounding my appetite. I would need to purchase a suit. This suit would be required for a tasting event. So, not travelling that far from my norm! ^_^

Considering the sheer number of stores at my disposition at the Bicester Retail Village, the destination of this shopping journey, I figured it would be wisest to expend a full day at the location, leaving straight after breakfast. Why such a relatively far away location, awash with stores which would only serve to enable and thus aggravate my feminine indecisive streak? I had been meaning to go for a while. There were also a lot of discounts. The creperie and ice-cream parlour were also particularly enticing. It would also give scope to drop-by Oxford on the return journey and engage in a modicum of exploration, if only for a spot of Afternoon Tea. Long overdue, considering I lived there for around three years. Slow learner, obviously. Most importantly of all, there was less choice for eating at Bicester. Having choice is a dangerous leverage for someone so devoid of willpower as myself.

No, I will not be recounting my shopping trip. This isn't a shopping diary. Though it was a fab-u-lousth day! I will however, recount what transpired in yet another minor exploratory day of indulgence. Both in the filling of my stomach, and other wallet emptying fripperies. Onwards!

~ Creperie Amelie - Crepe Cafe Stall ~

No sooner had I entered the Village and I was immediately on the hunt for some crepes to fulfil my mid-morning snack, which were duly found cresting the corner from the entrance of where I parked. You try convincing me that this was not an obvious sign of fate. At once I was also besieged by my mortal enemy. Choice. Infernal. Choices. A choice of which had tormented me for a day prior. And after around 30 seconds I had figured I should try a savoury crepe option as breakfast at some of the other intended options in the coming month would give scope for the sweeter option. With that monumental effort over and done with, I tallyhoed to obtain some capitol for the forthcoming gorging whilst the lady set to work crafting, yes, crafting the wondrous crepe. I had never before seen such a method of making a crepe, ladling the mixture onto the flat stove top, skimming it with the enormous spatula, then immediately flipping what is the thinnest pancake I had ever seen. 

Epic Crepe in the Making

Unfortunately I was not around to see the culmination of the Epic crepe, so instead I was just presented with this. 

Epic Crepe Made -Savoury Crepe with Salmon, Cream Cheese & Rocket

If anything wanted to be devoured any more, I have not seen it. The frayed fringes of nearly transluscent crepe with the golden hue of the crepe contrasted with the decidedly different [for me at least] cream and salmon filling, with the aroma of rocket making itself known. Looking at it was not going to achieve anything, so, nom. Christ. Crunchy yet delicate at the same time, with a richness of butter of the crepe were absolutely astonishing. Then came the onslaught of cream cheese, salmon, and the rocket punching through to further meld into an indulgent melange in my mouth. It has difficult to avoid inhaling this crepe whole, for whilst very rich in flavours, it was not heavy in the slightest, perhaps helped by the sheer slightness of the crepe. It was finished in short order, the grease on my finger tips defying this most deliciously of indulgent "snacks". Now for something sweet for my burgeoning waistline.

~ Amorino - Ice-Cream Parlour Stall ~

On my path of seeking one of the more authentic Italian Ice-cream parlours in the London area, I came across this company upon the Bicester Retail Village website. One factor was immediately apparent, as of this moment of writing, so a good several months after trawling the website. "Gelato" is not mentioned. Anywhere. Indeed, why would they bother writing ice-cream in Italian to describe their wares, when it can be just as well done in the language currently being spoken. Perusing through their available flavours, I gave up and figured I would just wait when the choices were presented in front of me as surely a stall would have fewer, infernal choices. Denied. I did however to settle to trying three different flavours from the attractive stall girl, possibly questioning the motives of getting ice-cream at this hour of the day. Or not, seeing as the stall was already open. The choice fell between Madagascan Vanilla, Salt Caramel and Yoghurt. I think the choice was obvious, really.

Salted Caramel Ice-Cream. Nom. 

The salted caramel was just the most interesting out of the others with the Divine flavour phenomena known as the Reese's Pieces amalgamation of sweet and salty, and its inherent rightness. This ice-cream, was right. Exceedingly creamy, yet not outright sickly rich, sweet yet no dropping of limbs through flash diabetes. It was a very good rendition of an Italian ice-cream, if not ultimately as rich or clear of flavour. The crunchy caramel pieces were lovely too, adding some gratuitous texture and a hint of saltiness to breakup the creamy mouthfuls. The flavour did wane a bit in the bites without caramel, but it was otherwise delicious. So far, the most convincing of the ice-creams I have tried in the UK. Which would mean, out of the 3 ice-cream parlours I've tried thus far [excluding restaurant fare]. Now with the requisite calorie build-up required for shopping and spending hideous amounts of money steadily diffusing in my body, it was time to burn up the three hours before lunch. 

~ Jamie's Fabulous Feasts - British Cuisine with International Influence, Stall ~

After three hours I had got bored, and barely even made it through half the length of the Retail village, so I sought respite in calorific supplementation. Not presented with a generous choice, two of them previously experienced in the past, and rather lambasted [Busaba Eat"Thai" and Villandry Kitchen], the other seeming a rather dry-breeze interpretation of Italian cuisine [Carluccio's Cafe], I had settled on trying out the bane of my interests. A celebrity chefs' restaurant. I do not judge on experience or pretense of knowing any better, they just do not interest me. Especially when fooled by an exuberant menu listing on a website, only to be presented with a small stall with a sandwich menu at our disposition. Damn those carbs. Nothing particularly sounded extraordinary, and certainly not as ebulliently flavoursome as the "Southern Fried Happy Chicken" and other copiously worded items on the online menu. In a quest to go for the more left-field choice as always, I opted for the following

1/8lb "Tortano" Sandwich filled with Roasted Vegetables and Cheese

An 1/8th pound "Tortano" Sandwich, with a filling of Roasted Vegetables [Courgette, Bell Peppers, Sweet Potato and a few more] and some cheese, may have been Gruyere or similar. I was also rather stunned by the embodiment of 1/8th of a sandwich, though I suppose years of eating 1/2 pound and more, of burgers have numbed my ability to judge mass; vegetables, light in nature AND mass! Biting into it, I was suddenly overwhelmed by...Not much. The vegetables were all rather muted in flavour, being there, but no more, being as vague as I can. There was pleasant presence of pesto which tied in and cut through the cheese with everything else, though even that was not particularly prevalent in its voice. Once again lambasting more carbohydrates and little added protein, the enormous slices of bread, however agreeable, compared to the vegetable filling made my rue my decision. As essentially every one taken in these recent binges. Guilt I think it is called. Which would be substantiated further with yet another enabling of my sweet teeth, jaw, mouth, cells, molecules, atomic structure, being. 

Glutton Cake. Poppy Seed & Lemon Drizzle Cake

Again, in a slightly contrived excuse of trying new, I pined for the aforementioned drizzle cake, having never tried poppy seed before, not that I was expecting much beyond the possible failing of a drugs test - it's fine, I did not envision driving for a few hours yet. Now usually, I do not make many overblown statements, unless they are about zigni, passito or similar otherworldly artefacts. And this is not not one of those cases, sponge cakes being the must yawn-inducing to me [a yawn that inevitably gets filled with food, and a chewing action, yes]. However, to merit, it was a very nicely grained, and quite memorably moist cake. The glazing as well was not blindingly sweet, the lemon drizzle playing off nicely with a welcome amount of tartness. However, it also did not throw up any surprises. Nothing. Not even any hallucinations or out-of-body experiences from the opiate topping. It did satiate my sweet tooth though, and draw in hoards of annoying bees. Much to my chagrin [I minced away from them]. 

Continuing on with the remainder of the shopping dues, I had then decided that being mere moments from Oxford, that it would be rather opportune to engage in a spot of some traditional Afternoon tea. A light touch before the dinner meal that would await, and in a rather fitting environment too. Choosing was a rather clueless affair of searching on Google for the "best tea spots", obviously lending itself to much subjective nullities of opinion. Thus I went for the oldest sounding establishment, figuring that if anyone would be retentive enough about the correctness of their Afternoon Tea, it would be the Rich Octogenarians that would frequent similarly composed venues. 

~ The Randolph Hotel - Afternoon Tea ~

Parking in the wretched [paid parking]/delightful [proximity to "nice" Oxford] Banbury/Woodstock Road meeting, off to the Randolph I gleefully skipped along. It was however fully booked, and with the Parking Nazi's ever-intent on issuing me my tenth or so parking ticket accumulated in my years at Oxford, I decided not to dilly dally. So I promptly minced across the road to the Ashmolean Museum instead for some rooftop tea, on the suggestion of the jolly Maitre' D at the Randolph.

Stairs. And even more stairs on the inside. Excellent, moar calories to burn! I was loaded with carbohydrates anyway. After much deliberate musing, a choice of cake was made, a spot on the rooftop was chosen, and I lay in wait for my tea. This was perhaps the most anticipation I have ever created for a cup of tea. It shall not happen again. And yes. Yet another sweet-tooth moment to be satiated.

Bland & Reasonable - Salmon/Cucumber/Egg Finger Sandwiches & Raisin, Walnut & Apple Slice

In quite the about-face of the crepe at the beginning of the day, if any morsel of food could induce more disinterest for the act of eating, it was the rectangle of finger sandwiches and the cake slice presented to me. I however, had a metabolism to, well, stoke. The sandwiches certainly lived up their comatose description and appearance, essentially being the essence of bland. I was slightly bemused by how flavourless the cucumber sandwiches were in particular expecting, perhaps somewhat foolishly, more than just a couple of pieces of bread and a couple of slices of cucumber to its constitution. Oh well. More bread, at least this time though it was brown, and reduced in size. Some added protein as well for kicks. The walnut slice however was rather appetising. Containing apparently the world, the slices of apple in particular were rather lovely, being still crunchy and just sweet enough, with a nice tartness to cut through the dense cake. This played off nicely with the raisins and the slight profusion of spice in the cake. The tea then duly arrived.

Earl Grey. 

Something missing? The atrocious, no, ABHORRENT absence of scones was not lost on me either. This was, a travesty. The tea was nice though. Quite startlingly so. Or maybe I have not had Earl Grey in a while, but it was rather refreshingly besieged by bergamot and lemon, despite still being a teabag brew. The cake slice also happened to work rather well with the tea, with the lemon hint adding to the tartness of the apple, and the gentle sweetness of the cake helping me to rid of another useless limb/soften the slight astringency of the tea. Time was of the essence however, and as much as I had wanted to rant to myself about the denial of the scones, the near coma-inducing of the sandwiches and the delightful gale-force winds brewing, I had a parking attendant to combat, so rushed off to my next plans. Mince mince mince. 


I was actually rather timely, arriving at the car just as the parking attendant was about to spot my just expired parking ticket. From here on I would then travel into London for a grander culmination of day's gastronomic excesses, if not financial, choosing to engage in an Indo-Malaysian special Menu at Cinnamon Club of Westminster with a fellow "Brown" friend of mine. Seeing as I'll have separate review of that restaurant, I will just state that whilst not the utmost in outright face-melting flavours, it got many things right. Not least, yet again satiating my predominantly glucose-constituted being. 


Shopping. It would stand to reason then why it is not an activity I engage in too often, as my lack of restraint when it comes to ingesting calories is rather preposterously reflected in the lack of restraint on expenditures as well. I did however, buy plenty of taste on this day, though I can only speak of the literal, rather than of the figurative. Rather!

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[Restaurant - French Modern] A tale of Deux Pied; L'Autre Pied of Marylebone

Location - Marylebone, London [UK]. 

Delays - tedious at best, generally inconsequential, and usually my modus operandi in the rare occasions where I am expected somewhere, through no fault of my own naturally. A week had passed since the last outing and as such, another meal was due. However, in lieu of some rude Ruffians in an aimless London-wide rampage of idiocy, plans were halted, from two different groups, denying me of two chances to exercise my jaw. Which saw retribution in a couple of overindulgent atrocities of the calorific kind. The rioters should be ashamed of this travesty unleashed unto me. Which added ever more importance onto the eventual date with the next night of indulgence, at Pied a Terre.

On arrival however, I was left comprehensively blind-sided - this was not Pied a Terre. This was not Pied a Terre at all. What is happening?! Seemingly still pedi-centric, and located in the same locality, apparently we were scheduled for L'Autre a Pied, which instantly sent me into a wild state of perplexed indifference, instead pondering on the aura of foot fetish suddenly permeating in this neighbourhood - does Marylebone have an obscure S&M connotations? Or am I stepping on a few toes with this slightly contrived notion ^_^. Little did I know at the time, that I would thoroughly dine on my foot as it would turn out that these two eateries kicked around as sister restaurants. Touche'. No real thought process went into selecting the restaurants - randomly rattling off a list of names I could recall, I was unaware that George had just gone and booked the restaurants as quick as I could recollect them. Unfortunately, having been aimlessly pondering at the wrong menu for the better part of a week would mean that I would now be fraught with a complete stranger of a menu. Heavens. 


On entering the restaurant we were met with a rather quaint and formal-ish looking setting, being led to our table I was left rather amused. Set up with me sitting in the middle of the table opposite the couple, I was overcome by notions of my Mafioso Godfather stereotypical preconceptions that I do so adore. I just needed to ask the restaurant to substitute a grand winged back arm chair and it would be perfect. Moving on, much deliberation on procrastinating from looking at anything other than the dessert menu resulted in two out of three of the group wanting the 8 course taster menu. Which was rather boring and contained nothing out of the ordinary, not even anything living in a shell or a cave. And if I were to decline, then they would be denied their entire table menu. Extortion. Damn you. I was supposed to be the Mafia boss here.

~ Starter ~

• Salad of Heirloom Tomatoes, Gazpacho Consomme, Lemon  Oil

Slightly hesitant at the prospect of facing eight courses when I have been supplementing the fat reserves in my body seemingly to prepare myself for an exploration of the winter harsh lands of Pluto, I was immediately put at ease on the arrival of the ornate thimble sized serving of this starter, initially mistaking it for a token amuse bouche. It was a rather lethargic representation of what the description portrayed, being no more than four different coloured half slices of tomato sprinkled with some incredibly finely chopped chives and olive. Gazpacho? That would be the tomato water then. Refreshing but rather boring going from the anticipation created from the title - Tomatoes avec Eau du Tomates could have sounded just as enticing to those not French literate.

• Chilled Courgette Veloute, Feta Cheese, Hazelnuts, Roscoff Onions, Basil Oil

Thimble removed and the next plate promptly arrives. Do not recall this one, a sprinkling of what seems to be goat's cheese and a tiny piece of squid with some hazelnuts dotted around? It all had a very prominent aroma of basil which was rather enticing, not even requiring proximity to capture. Then the waiter returned to douse the composition with a pea-green emulsion. Ah, so it's the veloute. Which would mean the previous dish actually was the Gazpacho. Oh dear.


However, on first sampling, I was overcome with the inherent need to inhale this concoction. It was delectable. For a veloute' it was exquisitely light yet fragrant, that basil aroma permeating evidently yet not overpowering, providing a delicate and refreshing touch to the dish. This fresh and excellently flavoured veloute' also melded well with the tartness and slight saltiness of the Feta cheese, not to mention the added crunch provided by the hazelnuts. The piece of squid, which actually was a slice of onion, was rather random, and lost. And consumed with no idea as to its purpose.  

~ Main Course ~

• Soused Cornish Mackerel, Avocado Creme Fraiche, Radishes, Citrus Vinaigrette

First of the mains arrive, and we were presented with a collection of seemingly standalone morsels arranged on the large plate, all looking as exciting as a British Summer sky. In isolation, this boredom would translate into the general composition of the dish [you eat with your eyes apparently, thus see with your mouth?] - the radishes contained raw or lightly cooked fish of some sort I believe, and otherwise were rather uninteresting, likewise the "soused" mackerel which did not really taste of much beyond mackerel, without even a gentle hint of the "sousing". However, the miscellaneous green creme fraiche was delectable. So much so, that it seemed to have a Kryptonite-like ability to mutate the mundane into the exquisite, infusing a richness into the mackerel which instantly upped its excitement-quotient. Well, perhaps not excitement as there's only so much excitement that can be drawn from food [that isn't dessert and loaded with sugar and therefore awesome], but I certainly released a pleasure grunt. 

• Pan-fried Cod, Saute' of Baby Artichokes, Wild Celery & Crab Emulsion

Second of the fish plates and yet more dry-breeze inspiration, though to be honest it is rather difficult to create enticement, a fish I find rather comatose, perhaps why it can be so profuse in all the fish & chip parlours of the country. True, it is a delicate fish, but, anyway. At this point I had forgotten completely what the menu items had consisted of, and so just went on an exploratory round of the separate components. The Cod was harmless, on its own it was anodyne. Then again, pan-frying doth not miracles create. The baby artichokes were nice, with the typical sharpness permeating slightly, and the crab emulsion [I somehow though it was morel mushroom, shows how much I know ^_^] was subtle but pleasant, with an appropriate creaminess and hint of earthiness. Combined, miracles were not created but certainly the dish came together well - the artichokes added some interest to the cod, which cut through the rich sauce to create a well flavoured melange. Still dry-breeze, but pleasant. No more. 

• Pressed Belly of Suckling Pig, Tender Stem Broccoli, Bergamot Lemon Puree, Pink Grapefruit Emulsion

Then there was solace. Meat. Healer of wounds, resolver of wars. The only protein that counts. A minute slice of pork belly with a delightfully crisp looking crackling was presented, with a little quenelle of potato, some sparse pieces of broccoli, another green dollop of something and some haphazard dottings of random emulsions. Controlling myself just long enough to avoid devouring the pork belly and plate whole, I found the broccoli to be rather fragrant though not overly so, the mashed potato was good but short of the levels of starchy divinity I have experienced elsewhere - a tiny bit dry, which was not an issue, but which tied in with the fact that it was not as creamy as some. The green sauce, though different to the concentrated awesome that came with the mackerel [not that I knew at the time] was again light yet delightfully rich, leaving the emulsion for last. Which was essentially just acid, on its own just serving to implode my face.


Combining the sauces however just further supplemented the pork belly of destiny, not that much is needed to improve pork belly anyway. Obviously with the former whole-face puckering acidity of the grapefruit sauce, it worked well with the relative greasiness of the pork belly, cutting through the flavour nicely. The bergamot puree further added to this, adding a subtle richness to it all. As an amalgamation of all its constituents, this dish was fabulous, though pork belly can never be less than such. Ever. Unless perhaps if it were raw.

~ Dessert ~

• Cheese Selection 

Onto the most important meal, which is to say the desserts. There would be three of them. ^_^


Unfortunately I did not pay much attention to the selection of cheeses that were provided, with the aperitif champagne doing its best to ridicule my susceptible empty mind and render it largely useless more useless. In saying that, I know that the first of the cheeses was a goat's cheese and another was a three milk cheese [cow, goat & ewe] with a herb crust. I cannot recall much specifically other than they were all pleasant, one of the last choices being particularly so. The portions were a bit sparse, which was not of complaint considering the duration of the meal and the fact that we had several bricks of cheese to devour back at the apartment, but even so it did not avoid the peaceful couple from squabbling over who should have the most calorific size. So I soldiered ahead.


Of note though, were one of the provided crackers - one of which was seemingly a sesame-encrusted digestive cookie, quite similar to a McVities but far more refined, it was truly delectable. It was actually an event on its own, and I did not wish to sully it with cheese. Or vice versa. 

• Fromage Blanc Mousse, Blueberry Compote, Yoghurt Crunch

Done with the formalities of the cheeses, it was now time for the beginning of the dinner's Quintessential Course. The Centrepiece. The Highlight. THE CRUX.

What is this pitiful small cup with a berry within doing in front of me? THIS is my dessert?! HEATHEN. No sense in souring grapes, and thus I commenced inhaling the dessert. The blueberry compote was not terribly enticing, being rather sour. Something I had noticed with blueberries of late anyway, and no amount of magic could alter it would seem. Digging deeper into the thimble I had a bit of the blancmange, or fromage blanc mousse, or pannacotta, or variation of a theme of other bland cooked creams, and again I was presented with no surprises. A subtle creaminess was evident, but otherwise it was rather bla. When combined however, the sour grapes Blueberry compote suddenly mellowed its tone, the Fromage Blah was suddenly suffused with a gentle sweetness and tartness, and the whole thing picked up a bit. It was still over too soon however, and generally not of the face melting variety of delectable. An interesting particularity were the yoghurt crunch bits. Which were crunchy. Not much else. They did add variety of texture though!

• Glazed Custard Tart, Lime & Olive Puree, Raspberry Sorbet

Being left rather underwhelmed by the former dessert, more through volume than through quality, this forthcoming treat would have to rectify the travesty of such an injustice of my greed. Oh. My. Dear. Jeebus. Has my life been re-affirmed yet again? Is there so little to my being that mere dishes can transcend beyond the terrestrial and affect me on a spiritual level? Does that even need asking? That one fateful spoonful of this dessert bombarded me with futile questions of its composition. Was it cheese? Cream? A divinity's congealed essence? Why are these thoughts occurring at such crucial point in time - they are denying me of the next spoonful! 


Obviously, this is just faint praise, but with each spoonful, I was being overwhelmed by a higher state of dessert gloriousness. A microscopic layer of glazing gave way to an impossibly soft filling before reaching the millefeuille-esque base, creating a delectable contrast of textures, which tried in vain to out-awesome the flavour of the tart. It was rich, certainly more than me [not difficult], but not overtly so, proving delicate at the same time and very well supplemented by the glaze and light base. Almost the entire tart was consumed before I so much as even noticed the raspberry sorbet, which was rightfully shunned. It could offer no game to the tart. It was a bit sour, and a bit of a distraction, so devoured and continued with the rest of the tart. Likewise the puree was not of any real notice, adding precious seconds of separation from the tart. 


This was truly glorious. Most definitely rectifying the relative evils of the unfulfilling previous dessert. And then some. And some more. And more again. Ad infinitum. 


~ Drinks ~
- Aperitif Champagne
Perhaps a mistake to order, not by any wrongdoings of its own but rather by us being all on an empty stomach and not having so much as exhaled from entering the restaurant. The champagne promptly proceeded to deviantly incapacitate us and leave us slightly idiotic, all before the meals had arrived. Nevertheless, not actually knowing what the champagne was, it was rather pleasant, slightly sweet, which was just as well as I am not usually an appreciator of sparkling wines. I cannot recall much else other than a slight cask note in flavour and aroma. Otherwise, it made quick work as an aperitif. Plotting to reduce all forthcoming dish descriptions explained by the waiter to sweet nothings


- Chablis Wine
Leaving the choice of wines to an individual that had so much as a clue, amongst the generally ignorant [me] and the helpless [a girl], a Chablis wine of some description was chosen to match George's predilection for fruity and light wines. Whose brief was matched by this wine, quite so. Light & not too fragrant, it was a nice fruity background wine, otherwise not being of any special mention. Other than to carry on the work started out by the champagne to render us ever more impaired.



- Bodegas Olivares: Jumilla Dulce Monastrell
Not paying any particular attention, or rather not being able to by dint of the above two servings of liquid-stupid, a selection of three dessert wines were provided to us, and being the receptive/perpetually-indecsive individual, I went for the different choice. Or rather was left with it. It was a Port-style wine, excellent I thought, with much rancour for despite being a former appreciator of Port, I have found it to be a rather short-lived pleasure [at least the ones I had tried], with the first rich, fruity sip giving way to face-pummelling alcohol annihilation. Not so this wine - dense, rich, interesting & lingering. These were the characteristics it retained throughout its duration. Quite unlike ports that I had thus far tried. 


It had a rather odd aroma, George's other likening it to cough medicine - obvious how the Russians cure their ailments. I was not quite of the same mind, but it was definitely exceptional. A very full-bodied dessert wine, and quite the pleasant one.


- Espresso & Petit Fours
A requisite end to the perpetual meal, and what a pleasant surprise on its arrival, just whilst I was in mid-sentence of exclaiming how this wrong-footed choice of restaurant would deny us of the Petit Fours served with coffee. Only to have Petit Fours served with coffee. More food? Mo' better! The espresso itself was unremarkable, quite light-bodied but very clean of finish. The trio of minute chocolates however were rather delightful - extraordinarily light and just the right amount of sweetness. The second one however was different. It had a hint of "something" that instantly melted a heart that surely by now is mostly composed of chocolate. Is that a hint of Cardamom?! At least I think it was and now Saudi Arabia was on my mind. Until I had the last delectable Petit Four [or is that Three]

~~~~

Fin. The dinner in the company of the menage a trois had culminated, with nary a wrong footing along the way, despite the at times quasi-feudal couple. Fitting the billing of a Michelin-starred establishment, the experience was as expected, with the requisite, immaculate and slightly pompous presentation and serving rituals, the delicate flavourings of the food, and the surmounting costs, indubitably assisted by the treacherous mind-debilitating champagne aperitif. Despite the severe transgression of having been so cruelly deceived of my notions of dining at the sister restaurant of Pied a Terre, which conspired to stoke a growing feeling of general indifference, I was rather quite pleased.

Not being my first choice of menu, the dishes were all rather appetising, with the one shaking my notion of existence to the core. Which seems to happen every time I consume a particularly delectable dessert. I therefore exist for/as a dessert. However, as far as exploratory gains or novel experiences, the dinner was rather mundane and did not push many personal boundaries. I did not sample any diverse animal or a platter of internals, or anything out of my usual norm. I suppose it is fine, but it leaves me rather empty, figuratively, not literally [perhaps a smidgen more room for some of that tart], and not that every meal should be intended to tick off another explored avenue. Though it is always nice to broaden perspectives. I guess I am just tainted by having eaten the viscera soup a few days prior, and just as in that case of deception, I came away rather pleased. Who knows, the soup may have even included foot too, making it rather current with the choice of restaurant.  

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