It’s like I’m going crazy.
Just when you think things cannot get any worse around here, they do.
Exhibit A: just as I thought how last week’s interview was a breeze and how the interviewers seemed duly impressed, they call this week and say ‘the position has been filled by someone more suited to it’, followed by ‘could they wish me good luck for my future?’.
Bitch. I am not amused.
Meanwhile, to rub salt over the wound, summer’s gone and fall hasn’t even arrived yet. Its just drafty, cloudy and wet all around with sudden bursts of indecisive sunshine. I suspect the sun is not amused either.
My habit of stalking people over the internet is at its strongest when I’m depressed. And yesterday as I furiously went through blog after blog, I came across Athena Plichta’s work. And man, that girl can cook. Stunning, is all I have to say.
Exhibit B: aka, How the Universe Conspires Against You When You’re Broke.
Right at this moment, when I’m surviving on leftovers, wrenching myself away from Miu Miu’s mouth-watering store display, Garance Doré, the beloved trendsetter, has let Elle & the Coveteur photograph her stuff.
And she’s got stuff I could mindlessly kill for.
Take a look at those red Lanvin shoes. The brazennes of the colour apart, just the curve of that heel is enough to suggest the certainty of a great fuck.
I should probably rename the post title to “Chocolate cake for unemployed singles”.
I get compulsive and impulsive and all sorts of other ‘-ulsives’ when I’m bored or disappointed. And most of the time the solution to all that, involves food. If you need evidence, you need only to look at my ever-increasingly wobbly backside.
And boring has been happening a lot lately. Since I left my last job, I’ve had a whole week’s worth of free-time on my hands. And guess what. I’ve been going around town visiting all the specialty food shops I can find – an activity which had only been dream until last week. Usually, my daily routine includes a visit to Waitrose on my way home from office and a tour of the Selfridges Food Hall on the weekends. Don’t you dare look down on me because I visit “food halls”….Selfridges has an Italian porchetta collection to die for.
But I digress. I’m not here to talk about porchetta, I’m here to talk about the 300gm-bar of Valhrona 70% that I bought from the chocolate section. It features in my Gâteau Au Chocolat. Now it has been ages since I’ve baked. Not since, I packed up my kitchen and left for a three-month tour of India. So when one of my housemates left a wire whisk on the kitchen counter, the temptation was too much to resist. However, I realized that I’d almost lost the confidence to bake. It’s not really like riding a bicycle…or a bicyclist *wink*. I’ve lost the patience to measure the ingredients, the strength to whisk the whites, the rules to remember while melting chocolate and I’ve forgotten to not be afraid of folding egg whites into batter. Whisked egg whites can smell fear.
And that’s why the the cake turned out flatter than normal, and downright soggy than lusciously moist. It was like the cake was ratting me out to be a novice baker!
The chocolate however, did not disappoint. The only irony is, the recipe comes from Green & Black’s.
Claudia Roden’s Gâteau Au Chocolat
from Ultimate Chocolate Collection
250gm dark chocolate (70% at least, please)
100gm unslated butter, plus extra for greasing
6 large eggs, separated
75gm caster sugar
100gms ground almonds
Flour for dusting
Pre-heat the oven to 180 deg C. Grease a baking tin and dust lightly with flour to prep it. Melt chocolate and butter on a double-boiler (or microwave) and cool for a couple of minutes. Meanwhile beat the egg yolks with sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and almond flour to the chocolate mixture and mix well. Beat the egg whites till stiff and fold the mass into the chocolate mixture, gently but with confidence! Pour into the tin and bake for 20-30 minutes (depending on how your oven heats up) or till a skewer inserted in the middle comes out slightly greasy. The cake does not rise much and the middle should still be a little under-baked when you take it out to cool. Cool. Cut up in slices and serve with lightly whipped cream, berries, or nothing at all.
I always get excited when I stumble upon videos on London. It’s the curiosity of finding out what others think of my beloved home.
I wake up every morning and go to work. Through the train-window I stare at the Gherkin sparkling in the sun or glittering in the rain. At the station I’m engulfed by the crowd, all suited and booted, rushing towards their workplaces. They don’t have time to stop and notice the city. On the way back home I shake out my umbrella and curse the rain. I stare at couples on their uncomfortable first dates sitting at coffee tables. They stare back at me trying not to look at their partners. But I don’t notice the city. The weekends are filled with hauling around colourful shopping bags and smirking at the attractive woman with chipped fingernails sitting across from me on the tube. The city goes to sleep without a goodnight kiss from me.
And that is why when I come across movies on London made by others, I look. I envy visitors. I envy Londoners who take the time to get to know her. I play the videos over and over again and again, and try and spot all the details.
This movie is by Cyrill Oberholzer.
It doesn’t feel like October here. I’m reporting dank, drowsy and drizzly from London. And here I am, with the first full-fledged food post on The Subjectivist.
I need a place to store everything that catches my eye. Everything that sounds in my ears and fills my tummy to the brim. I need to write. I need to photograph. I need to cook and make. I need to sketch and dance every one in a while. And I need to share it with all of you. But there is only so much a single girl can do or remember. And hence, a blog.
While I drool over Ralph Lauren’s fall-winter collection this year, I sit in my white-washed room trying to chose between two crossroads. Should I continue walking alone along the platforms of Liverpool Street, straight to my day-job as an Architect? Or should I head back to India, back to my family, back to my old friends? Back to an old life?
But while I contemplate all that over a steaming hot cup of coffee and a virus-infected laptop, let me tell you how Nigella Lawson has helped me improve my mood.
Strawberries still dot the shelf at the supermarkets. So I stuffed a couple of boxes in my bag and came home trying to decide between a berry crumble or a strawberry sauce to accompany cakes and meringues. In the end, the weather convinced me to go for something hot, gooey and chocolatey (insert sarcastic quip about fickle-mindedness here).
The strawberries stared up at me forlornly from the shopper bag. So as an immense act of gluttony, I dunked all of them in a lusciously honeyed serving of cream. Some of them even made it to the top of the hot pots. The recipe can make about 4 hot pots, although I had to downsize the quantities to make for one.
Nigella Lawson’s Chocolate Hot Pots
1 cup of chocolate chips (or chopped dark chocolate about one and a half 100gm bars)
1/2 cup softened unsalted butter
3/4 cup caster sugar
3 tbsp all-purpose flour
Icing sugar, to dust
Strawberries and cream, to garnish
(The original recipe calls for 3/4 cup of dark chocolate chips and 1/4 cup of white chocolate chips, but since my addiction to dark chocolate leaves no room for its white cousin, I’ve used up a whole cup of dark)
Pre-heat the oven to 170-180 deg C. Grease 4 ramekins and place them on a baking tray. I find that leftover butter-wrappers, or fingers dipped in olive oil work best for greasing ramekins/tins.
Melt the chocolate and butter in a double-boiler and set aside to cool a little. Combine eggs, sugar and flour in a bowl and mix in the chocolate mixture.
Divide the mixture equally into the ramekins and pop the tray into the oven. bake for about 15-20 minutes or till the tops are cracked . On inserting a toothpick or skewer, it should come out greasy and smothered in chocolate goop.
Sprinkle the tops with icing sugar. Garnish with strawberries and serve with some lightly whipped cream.