Pump Street Bakery

Hello everybody,

When we lived in New York, one of our favourite weekend pastimes was to have brunch.  There are so many places for this in Manhattan, ranging from chi chi restaurants with massive queues outside to old school diners where everything is supersized and you don't need to eat for a week afterwards.

So, I was a bit worried when we decamped to the house by the sea that we'd have nowhere to get our weekly fix of excellent coffee and tasty treats while we flicked through the sunday papers.  I need not have fretted.  Because not very far from where we live is the lovely and amazing Pump Street Bakery.

You know you're in trouble when even the lighting excites you

Their sourdough bread is just delicious, and they do a fab bacon rocket and lemon mayo bap.  Their savoury snacks really are good - fresh ingredients, locally sourced, with perfectly balanced flavours.

But the real treats, the things that keep us going back there time after time, are the sweet treats.  Doughnuts filled with jams - rhubarb or raspberry - or creme anglaise, or brownies or meringues.  Eccles cakes don't normally have me salivating at the sight of them, but one bite of these and I was hooked.  Every time I go, I debate whether to have an Eccles cake or a Portuguese nata (I'm a sucker for custard...)

There's a fire in winter and outside seating in the summer months.  And the simple decor perfectly complements the good simple food...

But the best bit for me is Cedric.

From Wednesdays to Sundays, Cedric can be found around and about, selling bread and treats to those who can't make it to the bakery.

So, you see, I needn't have worried.  Brunch is taken care of wherever we are.

And you needn't take my word for how good Pump Street is.  The bakery has a finalist in the BBC's Food and Farming Awards.  Hope it wins.

C.x

ps I have no affiliation with Pump Street Bakery.  I just like their stuff!

When only a pork pie will do

We love living in Manhattan.  Five minutes from our door there's a row of restaurants selling pretty much every cuisine under the sun.  We are utterly spoilt for choice when it comes to eating out, and the only taxing part is the choosing, and having the discipline to stay in once in awhile... 

But every now and again, maybe on a cold or rainy day, or maybe when one of us is feeling a bit homesick, or maybe just for the hell of it as we did last Sunday, we will find ourselves by 'accident' in the West Village at a shop on Hudson Street that's done out like a 1950s English grocers.

Forever England...

To give you an idea of the kind of territory we're in, the West Village is not just any old run of the mill neighbourhood; the grocery shop is a couple of streets away from this:

We're talking seriously chi-chi.  But Myers of Keswick is resolutely, self-consciously, old world.

I could tell you we go there for the tea...

... or the sweets we used to eat as children...



 ...or the rather fab brown betty teapots...

... or the inevitable tins of beans...

... or the syrup and treacle....


...but none of that is quite it really.  We have our own private dance in this shop, Mr. P and I, where I will tell him that I'm there for the Fairy Liquid (I find the washing up liquid here a bit cloying) and he will tell me that he's there for the marmite.  But we both know why he's really there.  And that's just fine.

Me?  I'm there for the custard....

(And just in case you're curious, we have no affiliation with the store, but I really feel we should have.  For the amount we spend in there, we must be entitled to some shares by now...)

C.x

Busy bee

My weekends are normally sloth-filled affairs.  Speaking frankly, Mr. P and I are idle creatures.  But this weekend has been a shining exception.

On Friday, we went to a cocktail party on HMS Gloucester, docked in Manhattan for a few days and due to be decommissioned shortly.  This sounds more salubrious that it was, and involved me trapping myself in the ship at one point when I went to the loo instead of sipping cocktails on deck.

On Saturday, I went to my first sewing class at Purl Soho.  I can't tell you enough good things about this shop.  Like being dropped into a rainbow.

There's so much inspiration wherever you turn, whether it's baby bibs...

...or felted figurines...

... or cashmere scarves...

... or these exquisite Liberty Tana Lawn samplers...

(such a simple idea, but such a lovely display just inside the front door).

They have a blog (Purl Bee) with regular project ideas (the quilts next to the cashmere scarves in the photo are some recent examples).  And the staff are friendly and helpful (but I think I've mentioned that before).

And best of all, there's a woman who's going to teach me how to sew.  Those of you who have read this blog before will know that my New Year's Resolution includes the Merry Christmas project  (to sew letters and stuff them).  But I actually want to get a bit beyond that.  So I signed up for sewing classes.  I haven't quite decided yet if I want to make clothes, but I definitely want to learn how to use a sewing machine, and maybe make cushion covers or simple curtains.  After that we'll see.  Mostly, I just want to conquer my fear of sewing machines.  Yes indeed.  Now, I am afraid of spiders and dark alleys and the usual list of panic-inducing bogie- men, but I must also confess to a fear of sewing machines.  Now, admittedly, I haven't used one since I was thirteen, and it's not like I lost a digit, or sewed my hair to the apron I was trying to make.  I have no traumatic memories to justify this fear.  But I think  it's to do with the noise and the feeling that it and not I am in control of the process.  As though it will literally run away with itself if I don't sit rigidly paying attention to what's happening.

I haven't told this to my teacher yet.  And I was relieved to see that yesterday, she took her time and explained everything six times, and gave lots of snippets of interesting information.  And although she took a sewing machine out towards the end of the lesson, she didn't actually let us loose on them.  Instead, she talked soothingly of feet and soles and ankles and arms as though the machine was a friend of hers who could be our friend too.

We are going to make bags.  I knew this before the class, and I had a vision of a simple rectangle of fabric sewn on three sides with the extravagance of a handle to finish.  A bit like a pillow case with a string attached.  I wasn't terribly enthusiastic about this as a project, but had put it down to wanting to run marathons before I could crawl.  But the bag we are to make is a bit more presentable than that.  I will let you know how I get on, but in theory it will be reversible, and have pockets inside and out with a magnetic clasp.  This is the fabric I've chosen:

As you can see, I have even acquired the tools of the trade.  Of course, I have no clue what to do with them...  Anyway, we spent most of the class cutting our cloth.  This involved a self-healing mat (I LOVE this concept and want to apply it to all sorts of things...).  And a rotary cutter.  Hmmm.  Not at all sure about this contraption.  I'm sure I will come to love it, but for now, I can't seem to be able to cut through four layers of fabric at a time.  And I am left-handed so I kept having to flip everything around.  I am used to this.  But my right hand is weak and kept allowing the rule against which I was cutting to slip around.  Not great if you're trying to cut a straight line.  But I am determined to master it all and will be back for more next week.  Stay tuned.

Having been out and about so much yesterday, I wanted to hunker down today.  Mr. P demanded scones.  So I obliged.  (They are fast becoming a staple in the house of no knitted knickers.)

I have mislaid the scone cutter that's the right size, but have discovered that a wine glass is just as good.  My ulterior motive for making these is this beauty...

... purchased on holiday and carted back across the world by hand in the manner of ancient traders.  So, I decided to do it right and have afternoon tea.

And then, because I was on a roll, I made stewed rhubarb.  I LOVE rhubarb.  I think it might be one of my desert island foods.  But I digress....

I use a thumb of finely-grated fresh ginger and the juice of half an orange as well as the sugar.  It gives it depth (and besides, I love ginger, so any excuse...)

And to cap it all, while rooting around in the freezer for some worthy fish, Mr. P unearthed some bangers that he'd TOTALLY forgotten about....  So, we had bangers and mash for dinner.  Which was really just a base for Nigel Slater's onion gravy with marsala.  Heaven on a plate.

Oh, and I made two more granny squares.

(And if you hadn't already guessed it, the abundance of foodie photos in this post is down to the fact that I am learning to use my tripod.  The one I've had for 10 years and never learned how to use.  It's amazing what blogging drives you to...)

So, you see really, I am glad the weekend is over and I can return to work for a rest.

Have a good week.

C.x

Snow on snow

It has snowed.  And snowed.  And snowed some more.
 

   

And the ice has come down on the river from Canada.  The first year we lived here I thought the river had frozen over, but apparently not.

I am taking a couple of days off work.  I should be doing all sorts of admin (we're trying to sell a flat and buy a house at the moment), but instead I have made berry crumble.  Perfect for a day like today.

 And you've got to love a diet that allows for treats like this, even if it is on the knitted knickers side of worthy puddings (think oat flakes, sugar substitute and wholemeal flour), but it tastes delicious.

And I've been learning chain stitch from Granny Squares 101 here .  I bought the loveliest wool in Purl Soho last weekend.  And the woman there actually pretended to believe me when I told her with a straight face that I was going to make granny squares.  She was kind enough not to point out my ignorance when I asked for a crochet hook and she had to guide me through the sizings.

So, now I am the proud owner of five skeins (if that the right word) of Cascade Yarns 220 100% Peruvian Highland wool and a size H hook with a rather fetching brown and cream handle.  I would tell you what weight the wool is (4 ply? 8 ply?) but I'm not sure and don't know how to read the label.  You begin to see the level I'm at...

BUT, I am learning.  And today, I have learned how to make a slip knot, and practiced my chain stitch a gazillion times.  It's a start. (Where I got the pink wool from is a story for another day.)

And I've loved winding the wool.  It's quite trance-inducing.  And I found the perfect skein-holder for it.

And at the end of it, you end up with this.  

A snowball!

Claire