CPLD

Chris, Christophe, CPLD. 33 today.

Happy Birthday.

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THIS AUTUMN FEELING

The changing colours, the bright crispness, being enveloped in wool, getting cold on long walks, coming inside to find warmth. The last week or so has been picture perfect October, the dark starts and foggy breath made better by the promise of sunshine, the days so clear that if you find just the right bench, out of the wind, you can sit outside and breathe Autumn in. On Saturday we sat in Princes Street Gardens, and on Sunday, while I fed waffles, bacon and maple syrup to friends, Chris walked to the Gallery of Modern Art with Euan and they sat outside for as long as they could. Later I walked across town to meet them, the sun in my eyes.

But all week we watched the forecast, the forecast that said yes it's sunny and bright and cold and perfect but don't get too comfortable just wait until Thursday, on Thursday it will RAIN. It held out until just after lunchtime and then it rained, and it rained, and it rained. I had taken my swimming costume to work but as I left I realised that I didn't want to go swimming, I just wanted to be at home. I wanted to turn the heating on, to make dinner, to bake a cake, to paint my nails dark blue and that, all of it, is what I did.

A couple of weeks ago I roasted a butternut squash with thyme, toasted some hazelnuts in a small pan, and threw it all into some couscous with goats' cheese for a quick meal. Last night I did the same, just with pasta and pecorino instead. Next time I think there will be big pasta shells, filled with squash, thyme and nuts, topped with crumbled goats' cheese...

21ST SEPTEMBER

At the start of the Summer, before New York, when we decided to get married in City Hall, we also decided to throw a party. I'm not sure that either of us knew exactly what planning a party for about 90 people would involve but there were many hours spent collecting and cleaning glass bottles and jars, making table plans, place cards and cake flags. There were flowers (and a flower-related injury when I cut myself with very sharp secateurs a few hours before the party), there were 96 cupcakes.  But, most of all and best of all, there were family and there were friends. Friends we have known for just a year or two and friends we have known since we were very small. Friends who flew up just for the party, friends who drove 500 miles to celebrate with us, friends who chose to make our party their first night out since the birth of their daughter, friends we see every few weeks and those who we would love to see more. There was a first dance, a second dance, and many more until midnight. There were dancing groups, dancing couples and a very small girl breakdancing in her pink dress and purple shoes. There was a double rainbow and a bright red sky while we stood outside drinking prosecco. I'm told there was a sky full of stars and meteors as we danced inside. It was a great evening with amazing people. We're so very lucky to have them all.

Oh, and the cupcake recipe? It's my new favourite, the cake itself isn't too sweet so it works well with the icing. I found this quantity made 12 cupcakes but enough icing for 24.

WHEN IT HAPPENS TO YOU

 

I finished reading this late last night. I knew I would love it when I was one story in, after two I didn't want to put it down.    

A DAY OF PERFECT MEALS

In the evenings we stand in the kitchen. Me by the oven, at the hob, standing with one foot flat on the floor, the other crossed over it, on tip-toes. Chris at the worktop, making our sandwiches for the next day - salami, cheese, salad, cornichons, mustard, Dijon for me, English for him. The sun setting, the sky turning from blue to pink, then getting darker and darker. Last night we listened to Spilled Milk, as we often do, and, while I made pasta with bacon, peas, parsley and parmesan, Molly and Matthew talked about their day of perfect meals. When the episode finished we tried to decide what our perfect food day would be. It's tricky, you start with one thing and then you remember a sandwich you used to eat, the breakfast roll from an Edinburgh cafe long since closed, a plate of freshly caught scallops, rotisserie chicken and crisps on a roadside in France. So what would my day of perfect meals look like? It would be something like this.

Early Bird granola with milk and a New Orleans style iced coffee from Blue Bottle for breakfast.

Spicy squid and grilled pork bún from Song Que with a watermelon agua fresca from La Superior for lunch. 

A nata and an iced coffee from Fernandez & Wells as a snack.

A white pie from Delancey for dinner with a bottle of the Bandol rosé that we drank with lunch at Petersham Nurseries on my 29th birthday.  

And for pudding? A scoop of chocolate ice-cream that I ate in Paris in 2003. It was from a small place on the Left Bank, Rue de la Bucherie maybe? It's closed now but is still the best chocolate ice-cream I have ever tasted. And with it, because that perfect food day definitely needs two scoops of ice-cream, a scoop of the mint ice-cream that we ate at Marlow & Sons in 2011.

I considered custard doughnuts from St John, gozleme from Stoke Newington, and lobster rolls from Maine but I guess the thing about the perfect food day is that it is bound to change, reflecting the tastes you have right now, in this moment, influenced by where you are, what you want from a day. And this food day, rich with memories of meals eaten alone and with friends, sounds pretty much perfect to me.  

AUTUMN BECKONS

We haven't had much of a Summer this year, it seems wrong to wish it away, but I'm feeling the pull of Autumn as we reach the last week of August.

First there was the September issue of Vogue.

Then the first of the Toast Autumn catalogues.

A knee length cord skirt, silk long sleeved top, thick tights.

I started to think about a mustard scarf, a new leather bag, jumper dresses and navy blue moccasins.

I'll embrace Summer while it lasts, will gladly take any fleeting opportunity for bare arms or legs, for sandals, for painted toenails. I'll sit outside for as long as I can, I'll drink in the long days and hope for an Indian Summer with bright, warm September days but Autumn is reeling me in and I'm powerless to resist.

From top: Essie Stylenomics nail polish, Uniqlo dress, Uniqlo cardigan, Rib and Hull Heirloom Tote, Minnetonka moccasins.

STRAWBERRY SEASON

Before we left the strawberries were just appearing, not yet quite ready, picked too early.

In New York, Brian had tiny strawberries in his apartment. I would spoon maple yoghurt into a bowl, top it with grape nuts and a handful of those deep red berries and sit back with my iced coffee. In Maine, a day that started with strawberry muffins, continued with lighthouses, lobster rolls, and local strawberry soft serve. That night we ate burgers outside, coming in when the bugs started to bite to eat strawberry shortcake. We were well looked after.

When we got back I was keeping my fingers crossed for good Scottish berries not knowing how this wettest of Summers would affect them. Sylvie, Sylvain and Ellie came for lunch that first Sunday. We ate frittata and a salad of fennel, celeriac and pumpkin seeds, which we had eaten the Sunday before, sitting in Frankie's Spuntino, enjoying the AC and a meatball sandwich before heading back out into the heat. A week later, on a much cooler morning, I had baked a vanilla sponge. A softly simple cake that I would usually cover in vanilla buttercream, and sometimes, if it's a birthday and these things are called for, dolly mixture, they just seem to fit. This time I made buttercream but, instead of vanilla, I pressed a few strawberries through my smallest sieve, maybe six or seven in all. The icing turned pink, strawberries and cream against the vanilla of the cake. We watched the final of Wimbledon, balancing slices on our knees.