Travelling Gluten Free in Italy

Being gluten intolerant I was a bit wary about venturing to Italy, the home of wheaty goodness. But my fears were unfounded, as it turns out that Italy was coeliac friendly. In fact, coeliac disease is a recognised condition in Italy, with all Italians being tested for the disease at a young age, meaning that asking for  “Senza Gluten” is quite common, and not met with the often blank stares you frequently get in certain London establisments. 

In fact, as a recognised disease, bigger pharmacies stock an abundance of snacks, croissants cereals and breads, rivalling the range of the bigger UK supermarkets. My carry on luggage was loaded with biscotti and fancy looking pasta on our return!   

But everywhere we ate in the Eternal City, there was at least 1 Gluten free pasta

Going Gluten Free (sniff)

For those of you who may have known me 10 years ago, you would know that even the thought of "gluten free" would not enter my mind.

Working at the iconic Natural Foodstore on the Sunshine Coast, I scoffed loudly at the fools spending ridiculous money for wheat free cake and gluten free lasagne sheets. And here I am, at the ripe old age of 29 doing exactly the same. It would seem that in fact, Karma is officially a bitch. 

After a constant battle with my eyes to stay open at my desk, looking bloated enough to get offered a seat on the train and the requirement to be within running distance to the loo within an hour of eating a pizza I decided, perhaps this wheat intolerance thing isn't baloney after all. 

So a small test to cut wheat out of my diet had miraculous results. Energy! A flatter tummy! Regular bowel movements! 

I wish I could be thrilled about this decision but I am not. For anyone who suffers similarly to me, you will know that gluten free versions of our favourite foods, do in fact taste like arse. In fact, Sainsbury's don't even bother to insult our intelligence by calling their Free-From bread "bread" - they call it LOAF. 

And while the pizza base I made from The Gluten Free Student Cookbook was an excellent substitute, when The Boy arrived with his glutenous pizza, and I saw how much better his looked I wanted to cry.

I do honestly feel that my years of attrocious eating habbits have finally caught up with me, and I can hear my former Natural Foodstore colleagues saying I told you so, despite them being on the other side of the world. 

So wish me luck in my continual battle. Because as much as anyone tries to deny it, giving up a delicious slice of fresh white bread, a wedge of Victoria Sponge or the odd Domino's is a very hefty price to pay for your health.

Afternoon Tea - Review

Sometimes I find the time to drag myself away from my blog and write for other people...

Here's a little recent review of Afternoon Tea at The Mayfair Hotel I wrote for the lovely team at Afternoon Tea

Go to article at afternoontea.co.uk


xxx

My Latest Obsession

Since arriving in London I have a new obsession. Cupcakes.
Not the cupcakes that The Ex used to give me (that sort of cupcake involves farting into your hand and then holding it up to your unsuspecting girl’s face), but delicious gourmet, overpriced cupcakes.
My quest for the perfect cupcake has so far seen me venture to The Hummingbird Bakery, Northcote Road and Selfridges Food Hall. But a perfect cupcake isn’t just about the icing, decoration or the moistness of the cake,  it’s all about the packaging. 
The Hummingbird Bakery on Portobello Road was full to bursting with Japanese tourists on a Saturday morning, however my vanilla cupcake (yellow icing this time) came perfectly wrapped in a chinese-food style box, and sealed with a sticker, just so I wouldn’t forget where it was from.
The markets on Northcote Road, Clapham Junction are full of tasty treats for yummy mummys and their brats, and my vanilla cupcake with purple icing was delicious, however by the time I got it home in its brown paper bag the icing had stuck to the paper and my cake was squashed. Fail. 
But what takes the cake (no pun intended) was Lola’s Designer Cupcakes in Selfridges Food Hall. They delicately placed my two cupcakes (one vanilla with pink icing, one lemon for the man) in a tray, and then folded tem into a delightful carry box. To be fair – at £2.50 each they were by far the most expensive cupcake on my quest so far, but by far the best.
So this Saturday I shall once again venture on my quest to find London’s best cupcake. If anyone has any suggestions, this girl would be delighted to hear them.

Fine Dining

My dining experiences have mainly been limited to chains, or cheapish restaurants. But in this day-and-age, with bargain basement deals flying into my inbox quicker than I know what to do with, and being in one of the best cities for eating out in the world, fine-dining is at last an option.
So last Saturday, the man and I headed to the Kings Road for a bit of meaty goodness at Marco Pierre White’s Steakhouse. Clutching our voucher we joined the cue of diners waiting to be seated (who were also clutching their vouchers) and proceeded to spend a very pleasant hour and a half eating yummy food and being waited on by smart looking European men dressed in black.
The steak was delicious, as was the sides. I enjoyed my water being poured in a wine glass. I also enjoyed the said men in black magically appearing to refill my wine  (which was also very good). All this was rubbish in comparison to the exquisite crème brule that I devoured before I had to share too much with my other half.
There was cloth napkins, crisp white tablecloths and the toilets were, of course, lovely,  but I have to say, I would not go there again unless it was with another deal. The fact is, the food was just not worth the full price it commands. Am I cheap? Maybe, but in the Kings Road Steakhouse you’re not paying for the food, you’re paying for the brand.

Kitchen Snobbery

My recent dietary revolution has left me irritable, tired and longing for the deliciousness of a symphony of E-numbers deep fried in delicious batter.  Then wrapped in pastry. And maybe battered again.  Then dipped in chocolate. 

What my diet has done is left me a finer appreciation of the food I love.  With countless celebrity chefs and the popularity of Masterchef, you may think that this is some fine sort of fancy food, fit to grace the television screens and appear on the glossy pages of a $49 cookbook. 

You would be mistaken.  Give me fish fingers, meat pies, steak, mashed potato and oh sweet lord give me some chicken nuggets any day of the week.  

They may be processed, refined and full of nastys, but they are delicious and I have rather come to despise the food snobs who look down their nose at me when they see me heartily devouring a cheeseburger. 

There was time long ago, when fish fingers and chips were considered a treat.  So please leave me be to enjoy my crumbed frozen meat in peace.

Crazy Health Nuts

For as long as I can remember, my eating habits have been the topic of much discussion in my workplaces. 

It all started when I worked at on Organic Foodstore when I was at University.  They tried and tried to convert me to organic this, supplement that, fruit fruit veg veg.  And after 7 years of working there I did not change.

When I worked in London my “London Mummies” as I like to call them (the lovely ladies who worked in my department) used to despair over my dietary choices.  However my dietary choices during these years of my life were mainly made on the basis of “what can I buy for 50p?”  In the end they bribed me with a star chart (I’m rather easily pleased) and I would get a star for every piece of fruit I ate. 

Now I work in a company where the directors are very eco-conscious, health conscious etc. I see my boss look at me in disgust when I proclaim that a Chico Roll is a tasty treat after a night out. 

But you know what – I KNOW perfectly well what is healthy and not healthy. I KNOW my diet is not perfect, but I am trying to do better.  I do not like fruit very much. I will at vegetables because I have to, not because I want to. My weekend diet of Vodka and chips suits me just fine. 

Yes it makes me a little bit fat, yes I’m sure that I’ve got mercury poisoning from eating tinned tuna (for CRYING OUT LOUD can’t we do ANYTHING anymore?). I don’t care!  I like delicious fatty tasty food. Preferably in pastry.  If I had my way I’d live on a diet of red meat and potatoes. 

So please stop pestering me. I am doing just fine!

New Years Resolutions

New Years Resolutions.  Made in good faith this time every year and destined to be broken by February.

My list is similar each year and somewhat resembles one of my favourite heroine Bridget Jones’.  Each year I fail miserably.  It was on the news just the other day that it is pointless to make them because 90% of people don’t stick to them. 

2010 is looking like a promising year for me so my resolutions this year are going to reflect my new full and happy life.

1. Lose a bit of weight.  Which was successfully achieved during 2009, however have put it all back on again during the birthday/Christmas festiveness.

2. I would like to complete the Beginners Italian CD course that I purchased on a New Years resolution whim in 2005. 

3. I will astound my new bosses in my job, and strive to do my very best at all times. Even when hung over and all want to do it crawl under desk with a pillow.  I will not be lazy and avoid doing work by doing tea rounds, but tackle everything head on.  After a year on unemployment and working in a supermarket I will not complain about having a lovely office job ever again.

4. I will stop letting men sleep with me whenever they want and instead try this “hard to get” business I hear so much about. 

5. I will try and eat more fruits and vegetables. This is on the list every year and every year I fail because I just don’t like them. Broccoli – Blugh!

6. I will move out of my parents home.  As it is just depressing to be living at home at the age of 27.  This will also lead to family relations improving, stress levels decreasing and an improvement in my love life. 

7. I will make more of an effort to catch up with friends, instead of idly laying in bed watching DVD’s and moaning about being bored.

8. I will spend less time on facebook and on my computer farting around, unless I am actually doing something productive like writing for the blog or writing my book. 

9. I will save all my pennies to enable travel to the UK to visit my lovely London family.

10. I will not sulk about being single, but develop inner pose and authority and sense of self as woman of substance, complete without man, as best way to obtain man*

Auld Land Syme!

*This is stolen directly from Bridget Jones Diary by Helen Fielding.  I think this is one of my favourite resolutions of all time.

No, I’m Not Pregnant, Just A Little Bit Fat

I am currently on a bit of a diet. Which started when one of the butchers at work said to me that there was a rumour going round work that I am pregnant.

This is the wrong thing to say to a woman for two reasons:

1. She will automatically feel fat
2. She will start doing period math in her head and wondering if perhaps she is pregnant and start to panic.

So, with the extreme unlikelihood that I am actually knocked up (heaven forbid, touch wood!), I must come to the conclusion that I am just a little bit fat. I have developed a wine baby. 

The only plus side to putting on weight is my boobs and cleavage are truly spectacular and this does tend to detract from the protruding belly and wobbly thighs.

Anyway, I am struggling. My problem is I like to eat food and drink alcohol.  I don’t eat fruit and I don’t like vegetables. So diets are difficult.  The only other solution is to exercise more, but I don’t belong to a gym and its far too bloody hot to go walking these days.

So in the week lead up to my Christmas party (Where I am wearing my lovely Ann Summers Santa’s Little Helper outfit) I have decided to go on a minimal food diet. Which yesterday consisted of a caramel latte, chicken sandwich (multigrain bread though), dim sim, Smiths BBQ Chips, Vitamin Water, Sugar Free V, McDonalds Snack Wrap, half a pizza roll, pasta salad and a hamburger pattie. Today I have eaten about half a dozen of Ma’s homemade shortbread.

The solution to my dilemma? A pair of spanx.